by Harley Tate
“You’re locking them in?”
The other guardsman answered. “Let them all shoot each other. That’s what Sergeant says. In a week, everyone will be dead one way or another. No point in getting shot for a hopeless cause.”
Walter couldn’t believe his ears. “What about all the people still trapped in the city? There have to be thousands of good people stuck in the middle of the riots. Aren’t you going to go rescue them?”
Havers snorted. “Who do you think we are? The Marines? Naw, man. You wanna risk your life, go ahead. We won’t stop you.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a photo. “I’ve got a little girl. She’s four. I’m not going in there so some thug can put a bullet in my head.”
Havers stuck the photo back in his pocket and continued. “This isn’t just a California thing or a West Coast thing. It’s national. Hell, it could be all over the world for all we know. The president is supposedly in some bunker somewhere barking out orders, but there’s no one left to listen. The state government’s a joke, the police are all gone. It’s over. Everything is over.”
Private Lewis kicked at the ground. “I heard since there’s no more computers, we can’t get paid. Everything used to go all automatic-like right into our bank accounts. No one knows how to do it the old-fashioned way.”
Walter exhaled. It was as bad as he feared. Worse. “If you all aren’t getting paid, why are you here?”
Havers spat on the ground. “That sergeant of ours is up my ass all damn day just waiting to bust me for leaving. But believe me, the minute I can get out of here and go home, you can bet your ass that’s what I’m gonna do. My daughter needs me. Screw everyone else.”
Walter turned to Private Lewis. “What about you? Are you going to go along with all this?” Walt stared at him, waiting for his answer.
After a moment, the boy nodded. “My mom needs me. She’s all alone. As soon as I can, I’m heading back home so I can take care of her.”
Walter didn’t know what to think. Five days without power and the National Guard was working without pay and merely told to “contain” the problem areas with no attempt to provide assistance. Was this what their modern day humanitarian aid looked like?
He thought about the way wars were fought these days, with nameless, faceless drone strikes ordered from the comfort of the Oval Office. This was just another order. Havers was right; the president probably sat right now in an upholstered armchair in some bunker below the ground, waiting for most of America to die from starvation or kill each other.
The government never acted fast enough. Never made the tough choices quick enough. He still couldn’t believe these soldiers were going to barricade people in and let them die. “Don’t you all care about this country? Don’t you have a sense of duty?”
Private Lewis glanced at the other man. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I gotta follow orders, sir.”
“Damn straight. No sense in sticking your neck out for someone who doesn’t give a damn about you. If we didn’t have plenty of rations, it would be worse. We’re already losing a few men every day. Soon it’ll just be the single guys with nowhere else to go.”
Walter shook his head.
He was too old to be of any use and retired long enough for no one to care about his opinions. But this whole thing boggled his mind. Barricading people inside the city instead of going in and establishing order? Keeping guardsman on duty when their families had no food or water?
This wasn’t a civil war fought thousands of miles away on a continent most Americans had never visited. This was right here. Right now.
He scrubbed at his face. “Do you know for sure how far the power is out?”
A third voice answered his question. “I’m afraid that’s classified.”
Walter turned around. Sergeant Hickman stood a handful of steps away, his thumbs hooked in his belt. Walter gawked at him. “That’s ridiculous. Whatever happened is done. It shouldn’t matter who knows it.”
“According to the higher-ups, it’s a national security issue. Afraid I can’t tell you more than that.”
“Do you know if any effort is being made to provide aid? Is FEMA mobilized? What about the other branches of the military? The Marines?”
Hickman snorted. “Bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Maybe you would get more information out of some old active-duty buddies.”
Walter didn’t know why the man had a bone to pick and he refused to take the bait. “I just want information. That’s all. My wife and daughter are in Sacramento and I need to get home to them. I would appreciate any information you can give me.”
Hickman inhaled, his nostrils flaring as he thought it over. “I can’t give you any more details. But we can give you a ride. It’s wheels up at 1300.”
Walter stared as the staff sergeant spun on his heel and walked away.
“Somebody sure pissed in his cornflakes this morning.” Havers spat another wad of crud on the ground before walking away. Only Private Lewis remained by his side.
“If I knew any more, I’d tell you, sir. But no one’s said anything.” He glanced at Walter with wide eyes. “That means it’s bad, right?”
Walter nodded. “Yeah, kid. I’d say it’s real damn bad out there.” He gave the private a quick pat on the shoulder before walking toward the building where Drew still slept. They needed to pack up and get ready. In a few hours, they would be home.
Chapter Seventeen
WALTER
Sacramento, CA
5:00 p.m.
The drive into town via a giant desert-brown convoy took hours. Walter’s impatience grew with every mile. Was his family in the middle of a war zone? Were they barricaded inside the tiny bungalow while people set the rest of the city on fire? Had Madison even made it home, or was she out there somewhere, trapped and alone?
Walter ground his fist into his palm over and over as the Humvee bounced down the road. If anyone hurt his family, he wouldn’t rest until he found the culprit.
“You all right?” Drew’s voice snapped him out of his waking nightmare.
“Just imagining the possibilities.”
“Don’t do that to yourself. We’ll find out soon enough.” Drew ducked to look out the window. “We’re only a mile or two from my place.”
“Where do you live?”
“Downtown. A little condo on N Street, about five blocks from the river.”
Walter glanced at the two National Guardsmen in the front seats. “Can you all drop us off downtown? Somewhere near the Capitol?”
Both Guardsmen looked at each other before glancing in the back. “That’s part of the containment area. We’re headed that way, but we’ve got orders to lock it all down.”
“What about the state government? Isn’t the governor and the legislature at the Capitol?”
The man in the passenger’s seat shook his head. “No. It fell yesterday. The major who came to brief us said the whole thing’s on fire. The dome and everything.”
The driver spoke up. “That’s why we got pulled back from Portland. We’ve got orders to contain the violence to inside the rivers and the highways. Everything from the Sacramento and American Rivers south to Highway 50 and I-80 is going on lockdown.”
Walter swallowed. “That’s all of downtown.”
“Midtown, too.” Drew scooted forward in his seat. “My fiancée is downtown. That’s where we live. I have to get to her and get her out.”
“We can drop you at our checkpoint, but can’t get any closer.”
Walter turned to Drew. “Are you sure she’s at home? You said yourself she could be anywhere.”
Drew ran a hand through his shaggy hair. “I…I don’t know.” He glanced out the window. “But I have to get home and find out.”
Walter nodded in understanding. Part of him wanted to wave as Drew set off for his place and turn in the other direction, but walking to their home from downtown would be difficult. He would never make it before dark.
“Yeah. A Jetta, why?”
“Will it be at your house?”
“It should be, unless Anne took it somewhere.”
Walter nodded. He could help Drew find his fiancée and they could all drive to his home in the safer, non-barricaded part of town. Walking through a riot to get to a car wasn’t the best idea, but leaving Drew didn’t seem right. Not when the guy had a twisted ankle and could barely walk.
“I’ll go with you to your place and help you find Anne, if you’ll drive me to my house when we’re done.”
Drew’s face broke into a smile. “Thanks, Walt. That would be great.”
Nothing about today was great, but Walter didn’t correct him. The Humvee slowed as the driver navigated a corner and pulled into a parking lot. He put the vehicle in park and turned around to face Walter and Drew. “This is the end of the line. We’re regrouping here before establishing the defensive perimeter.”
Walter held out his hand. “Thanks for taking us this far.”
The driver shook it. “Sorry we can’t get you closer.”
“It’s better than the forest you found us in.” Walter smiled and glanced at Drew. “Ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Walter climbed out of the Humvee and helped Drew down. Even with his ankle taped and his blisters bandaged, he still walked with a limp and at an old man’s pace. They would be slow-walking ducks on the streets of downtown until they reached Drew’s condo.
Walter checked his watch. “It’s 5:30. We’ve got maybe an hour of daylight left and at least a mile to reach your place. The faster we get there, the better.”
Drew nodded. “I’ll do my best.”
Walter grabbed both of their bags, slinging one over each shoulder. Drew needed to worry about his ankle and not his duffel. “Which way is fastest?”
Drew glanced around at the street in front of them. “North until N, then it’s five blocks east.”
“Let’s go.” Walter led the way, canvassing the street in front of them and every alley and darkened doorway they approached. Urban fighting was the worst. Besides having an endless number of places to hide, sight lines were limited. An ambush could be waiting around every brick wall or concrete pillar.
The first shop they passed had boards on the window and broken glass beyond. The second was a burned-out shell.
“This is unbelievable.” Drew looked around, eyes wide. “Why do people riot when the power goes out? It makes no sense. Do they want to live in chaos?”
“Mobs have a life of their own.” Walter glanced around and hitched the bags higher up on his shoulders. He picked up the pace a bit, willing Drew to walk faster. “Once something happens and the fuse is lit, the hive mentality takes over. Everyone is anonymous and part of this larger collective. It’s intoxicating.”
“You sound like you like them.”
Walter shook his head. “No. But I understand them. Ever been to a live sporting event like a college basketball or football game?”
Drew nodded.
“It’s the same sort of feeling you get when the crowd is cheering and the team is playing great, only times a thousand. The mob is running on endorphins. It’s a chance to strike back at the government, the police, anyone and everything.”
He thought back to the LA riots. Days of unfettered chaos that seemed to go on forever. “How old were you in 1992?”
Drew counted back. “Eight. Why?”
Walter snorted. “I was twenty-one and I’d just gone to Los Angeles to celebrate when the riots broke out.”
Drew hesitated. “You were there?”
“Yep. At a bar. The whole twenty-one-shot challenge.” Walter smiled. “I was young and stupid.”
“Were you caught up in the riot? How did you survive?”
Walter would never forget the sounds of the city that night. “It was chaos. I watched looters smash a storefront across the street and barge in while a cop car rolled right by, doing nothing.”
“Seriously?”
Walter nodded. “The bar we were in was a total dive. It had these metal accordion gates the owner could pull shut and lock, so he did that right away. After that, we helped him cover the windows with all the furniture in the place and we spent the rest of the night behind the bar taking turns with the shotgun he kept under the top.”
Drew shook his head. “I remember my parents talking about it and some teachers in school but I didn’t know it was that bad.”
“It was worse. People shooting other people for no reason. Setting fire to buildings. Tipping cars. Looting. You name it, they did it. Eleven thousand people were arrested. And that was over a jury verdict, not the end of the modern world.”
“How did you get out?”
“Eventually the crowds moved on from that area and we left.”
Drew waved his arms about. “Are they really going to barricade this whole area in? It doesn’t look so bad here. Sure these buildings have damage, but I don’t see anyone out on the streets now. Maybe it all died out.”
Walter frowned. “They wouldn’t be setting up a defense if it wasn’t still raging. From the looks of it, this part of the city has already been picked clean. The mob will have moved on to somewhere new.”
Walter motioned around. “When we walked out of the bar in ’92, it looked a lot like this.”
Which meant danger lurked around every corner.
Drew fell silent as the pair trudged down the street. Walter attempted to rein in his impatience while Drew struggled to put weight on his foot. Every block brought them closer to destruction. A burned-out cop car. A mailbox ripped from the ground stuck out a second-floor window. A building with nothing left but scorched beams and blackened rubble.
Five days. The amount of destruction in five days was unbelievable. With the National Guard not coming in to restore order, but merely to barricade the violence in, it would only get worse. People would become desperate.
Deadly.
They neared N Street and an explosion caught Walter off guard. A building several blocks away erupted in a cloud of smoke. “I think we’ve found the edge of the riot.”
Drew’s eyes went wide. “That’s right by my place.”
Walter nodded. They would need to brave the violence to reach his fiancée. “You ready for this?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Not if you want to find Anne.”
Drew closed his eyes for a moment. “Listen. If I don’t make it—”
Walter held up his hand. “None of that fatalist bullshit. You’ll make it.” Walter motioned toward the street. “I’ll lead.”
Chapter Eighteen
MADISON
Sloane Residence
7:00 p.m.
An entire day had passed and they were still going around in circles over the man tied up in the master bedroom.
“We need to talk to him and assess the threat.”
Madison wrapped her arms around herself. As soon as the sun set, the temperature inside the house dropped ten degrees. They would get through the summer all right without power, but how would they survive the winter?
The more she thought about the future, the more it scared her. It was easier to focus on getting home or getting supplies. One task to accomplish or mission to complete. When her mind wandered, she shut down.
She glanced up at her mom. “You sound like Dad.”
A week ago, her mom would never have talked about a person as a threat or contemplated the use of force to obtain information. Now she leaned back on the kitchen counter, tactical pants bulging with extra magazines and a pistol shoved in her belt.
Madison missed her old mom. The one who baked muffins and hugged her good morning and never, ever saw the bad in people first.
“Your mom is right.” Brianna pulled her hair into a tight bun on top of her head. “We need to get it done. He needs to eat and drink and go to the bathroom
. Now’s a good time to ask him some questions. Starvation’s a good motivator.”
“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”
“You’re the one who tied him up.”
Madison glared at Brianna. “What else was I supposed to do?”
“You could have used Wanda’s gun to finish him off. It would have saved us a lot of trouble.”
“That’s enough.” Madison’s mom pushed off the counter. “No one is killing anyone unless it’s in self-defense.”
“He attacked us. He broke in. I’d say anything we do to him is self-defense.”
“Not according to the law, it isn’t.”
Brianna threw up her hands. “Who cares about the law? It’s not like we have a country or a state anymore.”
“Of course we do.”
“Then where is it? I haven’t seen a single aid truck or police car or military vehicle drive by since this whole thing started, have you?”
Peyton spoke up. “There was the one cop we ran into.”
Brianna scoffed. “Mr. Dudley Do-Right? He doesn’t count.” She shook her head. “He’s probably rotting somewhere near that park right now, his corpse half-eaten by—”
“Don’t be gross.”
Brianna turned on Madison. “I’m not being gross, I’m being realistic. While all of you sit around here with your thumbs up your butts trying to drum up the courage to do what needs to be done, someone out there is plotting a way to kill all of us and take our supplies.”
Madison’s temper flared. “You don’t know that.”
“It’s what I would do.” Brianna pointed toward the bedroom where the man was held prisoner. “It’s what he was doing. Don’t be naïve. It’s survival of the fittest now and I’m not weak.”
Madison’s mom held up her hands. “No one is saying you’re weak, Brianna. You’ve demonstrated time and again that you’re more than capable of handling yourself. But we need to be rational about this.”
Brianna scowled, but didn’t respond.
“The more information we can get out of him, the more prepared we will be.” Tracy clapped her hands. “Enough talking. I’m going in. Who wants to cover me?”
