THE END - Book I - Of THE EVENT SERIES

by Marshall Huffman

  What did happen to society when a major event suddenly changed everything? Most of the people would probably pull together to get things straightened out but there are always that few. The ones who would see this as an opportunity to take advantage of no formal structures being in place. It had happened hundreds if not thousands of times over the history of man.

  He started to worry about Rachel and what would happen if he couldn’t protect her. It wasn’t a matter of romantic love, but she was his companion and friend. He would have to try to protect her no matter what. It was the first time he really started to think about what they were faced with. A part of his mind had already been working on that but he had managed to shove it to the back until Rachel’s question about the guns.

  The next morning they were up early and ready to leave. The plan was to get to Pittsburg before it got dark and find a place that could be used as a jumping off point each day as they searched for mines or anything that could have sheltered people. They ate snacks for breakfast and Randy siphoned gas to fill the Jeep’s tank.

  “We aren’t going to find anyone alive in Pittsburg are we?” Rachel asked as Randy maneuvered around a semi that had run into the back of a small SUV.

  “I don’t know for sure but I doubt it will be any different than Indianapolis or Columbus. I mean we didn’t look around very much but still, I think it will be the same. I honestly believe the only hope was for those pretty deep underground. Somehow that is the key to who lived and who perished,” Randy said.

  “God, all those people. How could something like this happen? And you think it may have happened worldwide?”

  “I think it is a possibility. I could be wrong. If fact, I sure hope I’m wrong but something this powerful would certainly have that potential.”

  “I hope it was quick.”

  “It was. Look at the cars and the way they were left. It happened before people knew what hit them.”

  “You said that before and I want to believe it but what if it took longer. Did they suffer? What happened to them?”

  “I doubt that we will ever know the answer to that. How could we? Everyone who went through it is dead. Just a melted glob of whatever that stuff is.”

  “But if you’re right, hundreds or even thousands could have survived. There are a lot of mines in the world.”

  “And caverns, caves and military installations and who knows what else? That’s why I’m so hellbent on getting to Pennsylvania and even into West Virginia. The chance of finding survivors is a lot greater there. Thousands of miners go down in coal mines and other mineral producing mines every day, not just in America but across the world. People have survived just like you and I,” Randy said.

  “Did God select who was saved and who died?” Rachel asked suddenly.

  “I can’t answer that Rach. I mean, there are millions of people that would deserve to be saved more than me. I’m just an ordinary guy who has done nothing spectacular or helped mankind in any way. I know God has a plan but I doubt he had me in mind when this happened.”

  “You don’t believe God sees all things and controls what is ahead for us?”

  “Geez, Rachel. How can I answer that? I don’t have a clue as to what God sees or doesn’t see. All I am saying is that a lot of people much better than me died in that split second. I can’t accept the fact that I was saved for some higher purpose. It was just dumb luck,” Randy said.

  “I think you are wrong. There is a reason for everything. God has it planned down to the last detail. I believe there was a reason for all of this,” she said.

  “You believe what you want and I’ll believe what I want. There is no way either can win this argument,” Randy said at last.

  “Fine, but in time you’ll understand,” Rachel said.

  Randy let it pass. They were getting low on fuel and he needed to take a leak. He pulled into a rest stop next to another car. He would empty his tank first and then fill the Jeep’s tank.

  “Glad you stopped. I was ready to go thirty minutes ago,” Rachel said as she climbed out of the Jeep.

  “Take a flashlight with you. It’s going to be dark in there,” Randy said, flicking on the flashlight to make sure it was working before he handed it to her.

  When Rachel came back Randy was just taking the hose out of the vehicle next to them.

  “How much further?”

  “Another three, maybe four hours,” Randy replied.

  “Then we had better roll. It starts to get pretty dark by seven o’clock,” she said, looking at her watch.

  “That reminds me, I need to pick up a watch. I’m not really sure why, since time is all we have, but I suppose eventually one would come in handy.”

  Randy started the Jeep and they were on the road once again. It was definitely lighter today than any of the previous days. They both felt better just because of it.

  They chatted about what it was going to take to rebuild the country and short term goals they both had. Nothing too serious or heavy, everything was kept in general terms.

  Pittsburg, just like every place they had been, was nothing more than desolate buildings and abandoned vehicles.

  “I was hoping you were wrong,” Rachel said.

  “Hey, have you ever known me to be wrong?” Randy said, trying to look surprised.

  “You don’t want me to go there,” she said.

  “Yeah, maybe it would be better not too. I never realized just how big Pittsburg is. I was only here once when I was a kid. My parents took me to Washington, D.C. and we stopped off here for the night. Didn’t really see much.”

  “I’ve never been here,” Rachel replied.

  “It’s strange how much of this country we have never seen. Americans in general don’t know much about their own country.”

  “We’re too busy trying to make a buck so we can buy a bigger house or fancier car.”

  “You’re probably right. I was guilty of that,” Randy said.

  “We all are most of the time.”

  “Then the first rule will be that all survivors have to visit at least five other states.”

  “Right. I’ll hold my breath till that happens,” she said.

  “Let’s find a place to work out of. Some place we can get to easily and can find our way back to without much trouble. We’re on I–279 getting ready to cross the Fort Pitts Bridge,” Randy said, glancing at the map.

  “You drive, I’ll navigate,” Rachel said, taking the map from his hand.

  “So, navigate.”

  “Stay on 279 and we will cross Fort Du…something bridge.”

  “Duquesne,” Randy said.

  “Sure, easy for you to say. Wow, what is that?”

  “Pittsburg Steelers play there.”

  “Baseball?”

  “Football, woman. Football.”

  “Sorry, then what’s that?”

  “Where the Pirates play.”

  “Two football teams?”

  “I get it now. God did spare me so I could be punished for all my bad deeds. I swear. New law. Everyone who has survived has to know football teams from baseball teams,” Randy said.

  “Sure thing. Think any games are going to happen soon?” she said.

  “That’s not the point,” he replied.

  “Anyway, just stay on 279 east. From the map it looks like a bunch of spaghetti is going to happen.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “A whole bunch of roads coming together. Looks like spaghetti on this map,” Rachel told him.

  “Then what?”

  “Look for highway 28 east and take that. I think it’s called the Allegheny Expressway.”

  “Good Lord, who designed this mess? Can you imagine being from out of town, zipping along at 60 miles an hour pulling a trailer and trying to find your way through this? It is worse than Atlanta and I thought their downtown area was a mess,” Randy said, trying to weave his way past cars and get to the turnoff. He finally made it on to 28 east and saw a sign tha
t said Blue Belt.

  “Now what is that supposed to mean?”

  “I think it’s all the same thing from what I can tell. Seems like 28, Allegheny Express and Blue Belt are just one big happy road.”

  “I’m glad some sadistic bastard is happy,” Randy grumbled.

  They drove for miles along the highway and Randy made some comment every time a different name showed up on a sign. At one point he was sure there were at least six different roads all going in different directions called the same thing.

  “How the hell do people ever know where they are going around here?”

  “I would imagine most of them are from around these parts.”

  “Still, visitors do come once in a while. Maybe this is why this isn’t much of a tourist attraction city,” Randy replied.

  “You can take it up with the mayor,” Rachel quipped.

  After a few more miles Rachel said, “You want to explore the mines around Pittsburg, right?”

  “Yeaaah.”

  “Then I hate to be the one to tell you this, but I think we need to be going more south instead of east. Pull over a second,” she said.

  Randy stopped the Jeep and she pointed out about where they were on the map.

  “We passed Nine Mile Island just a ways back. We are right about here. We want to be down here.”

  “Shit. How do we get there from here?”

  “The way I see it, we can’t. It isn’t possible. That is unless you want to go back into the center of Pittsburg and start over.”

  “No freakin' way. We are just going to go on to West Virginia then,” he said.

  “Sorry Boy Scout, you still have to head south. In case you forgot, Pennsylvania is above West Virginia for the most part.”

  “Who in the hell put it there? No wonder I flunked geography.”

  “So, here is what I suggest for what it’s worth. We keep going east until we hit I–76, the PA Turnpike. Take it south then…”

  “Forget it. We will stay in Pittsburg tonight and start again fresh tomorrow. I’m not going to go east to get south. We will fill up the Jeep, get something to eat and find a nice place to crash for the night. Everything will look much better in the morning.”

  “Cool. My butt is asleep. Besides, it will be dark soon anyway.”

  All of the progress they had made getting out of Pittsburg was for nothing as Randy turned the Jeep around and headed back. They drove to the center of town and it seemed even further going back.

  “How about there?” Randy said, pointing to a tall building near the center of town.

  “Is it a Hotel?”

  “Yep. The Omni. Parking shouldn’t cost much.”

  “No kidding. No reservations necessary either,” Rachel said.

  Randy snaked through the streets until they pulled up in front of the hotel.

  “Might as well leave it here,” he said.

  “I feel like the Beverly Hillbillies. Gosh pa, this here place is a big un,” she said trying to imitate Ellie May Clampit.

  “They’s got one of them concrete waterin’ holes too.”

  “So, let’s eat.”

  “That is the best suggestion I’ve heard all day,” Randy said.

  After they ate, they both took a dip in the pool. Rachel wasn’t as shy this time. They both got the best night’s sleep since the whole world turned upside down.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Washington D.C.

  Locating the Ronald Regan International Airport was exceedingly simple. All Webber had to do was follow the Potomac River and there it was. It wasn’t his first choice of landing sites. He had wanted to land on Eads Street which ran directly in front of the Pentagon. He circled the Pentagon, which seemed strange in itself. Being able to fly directly over the Pentagon after 9/11 was something that was simply not done.

  He knew in his heart it was a lost cause. No cars were moving and he could see hundreds of wrecks and huge patches of snarled traffic. Still, they had come this far, he wanted to check it out just to make sure.

  There was a huge underground section to the Pentagon and it was possible that some of the people had survived. He was almost ready to give up and land at the Regan Airport when he saw that the long circular drive in front of the Pentagon was void of all obstructions.

  “Let’s land right in front,” Webber said over the intercom.

  “Are you sure? That doesn’t look very big to me,” Franklin replied.

  “Piece of cake.”

  “Damned small piece if you ask me.”

  “Relax, I’ve landed on smaller,” Webber said.

  He came in low across the Potomac River and eased the plane down. It came to a stop with twenty yards to spare.

  “I honestly didn’t think you would get this thing stopped in time,” Franklin said as they were climbing down from the cockpit.

  “Neither did I,” Webber said with a straight face.

  “You’re kidding right? Right?”

  Webber didn’t answer; he just headed for the front of the building.

  It was dark except for the emergency lights operating on weakening batteries. Their footsteps echoed loudly as they walked down the polished halls.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To E Ring. There is an elevator that goes down to the Warfare Strategy Room. The elevator won’t be working but there are stairs we can take. It’s a fair hike.”

  “How far?”

  “Ten stories down.”

  “Good grief. Right under the Pentagon?”

  “Can you think of a better place?”

  “Guess not,” Franklin replied.

  It took them several minutes to reach the stairs and start the long descent. Emergency battery power was almost depleted and they cast long shadows on the stairwell as they descended deeper into the abyss below the Pentagon.

  They finally reached the bottom and a steel door greeted them.

  “How do we get in?” Franklin asked.

  “I have a card,” he said, pulling it from his wallet.

  “As long as there is battery or any kind of power, it is supposed to open the door.”

  He slid the card down the slot and nothing happened. He tried it again but the results were the same.

  “Now what?”

  “Bang on the door I guess,” Webber said and picked up a fire extinguisher and pounded it against the door.

  A loud clanging sound resonated as the metal clashed on metal. He waited but nothing changed. He tried it two more times before deciding it was hopeless.

  “No one’s home I guess,” he said, tossing the dented fire extinguisher on the floor in disgust.

  “Did you really think someone would be alive?”

  “Actually, I did. We’re almost a hundred feet underground and I certainly thought that would protect anyone down here.”

  “Is this place always manned?” Franklin asked.

  “Twenty-four seven. Every day of every year. Usually at least two are on duty even when nothing is going on, which is very seldom.”

  “Then someone should be inside.”

  “That was my guess,” Webber said.

  “Maybe they can’t hear us.”

  “They would have heard the banging. My guess is that they were here but at some point left to find out what was happening. I want to hang around the plane for another hour or so just in case they saw us and are trying to get back here.”

  “What about the White House or Congress?”

  “They both have bunkers and I intend to check them both out but I want to sit tight for a while to give anyone a chance to find us.”

  They started the long climb back up the stairs and finally left the dark building and walked back to the plane.

  “Does it look brighter today?” Webber asked.

  “A think a tad. The clouds don’t seem as thick,” Franklin replied.

  “Getting hungry?” Webber asked.

  “Sure am.”

  “I’m not sure about the condition of
the food but there are a bunch of vending machines if that will work for you.”

  “I’m not particular. Anything sounds good right now.”

  “Let go,” Webber said leading him back into the building and down one hall and then turning down another.

  “Take your pick, I’m buying,” Webber said as they stopped at a row of vending machines.

  “Don’t they have to have electricity to work?”

  “Not really,” Webber said and picked up a chair and smashed in the glass front.

  “I see, the subtle approach,” Franklin said.

  “Beggars can’t be choosy.”

  “In that case,” Franklin said reaching in and taking the Hostess Cupcakes and Cheez-Its from the rack.

  “Something to drink?” Webber asked.

  “Let me,” Franklin said and used a chair to smash in the front of the Coke machine.

  It had bottled water in it as well. It was warm but at least it was wet.

  ****

  “It’s been long enough. I don’t think anyone is coming. We might as well head across the river and see if anyone is alive,” Webber said, finishing his food and polishing off the last of the water.

  “It’s a hell of a long walk from here to the White House,” Franklin said.

  “Got something else to do?”

  “No but I think I can hotwire one of the cars in the parking lot. There have to be lots of them.”

  “You can hotwire cars?”

  “Well, not like on TV where some bozo touches two wires together and the thing starts right up. I used to have a car that had a bad ignition switch so I would jump around the starter solenoid directly to the starter. It wasn’t easy but I had to do it fairly regularly.”

  “Hell boy, do your thing,” Webber replied.

  It took them about fifteen minutes to find an old enough car that he thought he could get going. After several attempts and his entire vocabulary of military curse words he finally got it going.

  “My hero,” Webber said, climbing into the passenger seat.”

  “What? I have to drive too?”

  “RHIP. RHIP,” Webber said laughing.

  “Do you know how many times I have heard that? Rank has its privilege?”

  “No, but I doubt it will be the last time either,” Webber said, patting him on the shoulder.