by Ison, S. A.
Several shop windows had been broken and shattered. One small grocery store had two men with shotguns guarding it. He noted that no one walked near them, crossing the street instead. He couldn’t blame them: those boys looked mean.
Garbage, plastic shopping bags, blew in the once-pristine streets. It has only been a day, for Christ’s sakes, he told himself again. Sweat popped out on his forehead, he could feel the uncomfortable prickling under his armpits and he noticed his hands shaking slightly. He smelled the sour stench of fear on himself in the small cab of the truck. He bit down on his lower lip, trying to stop the quivering that was starting from his gut and ending up in his face.
Down a side street, two men were beating the hell out of another man, a bag of canned food scattered all over the ground near them. He slowed his truck and watched, mesmerized and horrified. Harry had been right: hell was breaking loose. He was fairly sure these men had food at home, yet chose to beat the hell out of a guy just for some more.
The downed man stopped moving, and the other two scrambled to pick up the food and stuff it into a poke. They looked up at Earl, froze for a moment, and then went back to gathering up the cans. They didn’t give a damn that they’d been caught.
The hair once more rose on Earl’s arm. He knew he was seeing something very primitive, not just theft or a beating, something deeper, something base. His nascent brain understood perfectly clearly: survival of the fittest.
He jerked himself out of his trance and pulled away, heading toward the trailer park. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear the tears from his eyes. He knew it was brought on by fear. I should be afraid, he thought.
He pulled into the trailer park and noticed many people sitting outside their homes. Once more he felt his skin prickle under the gazes he received. He knew these people, yet their stunned faces held a kind of hopelessness, hollowed eyes he’d never seen before. Their blank stares reminded him of sheep, stupid and dull. The air was silent, eerily so. No children played and no dogs barked. No sound of humankind anywhere, just the breeze and the birds, yet these people were right in front of him. He almost felt he was in a movie, these things only happened on TV, it just wasn’t real to him. He had the urge to laugh hysterically, and put his hand up over his mouth to stifle the urge.
Pulling up to his trailer, he got out of the truck. His front door was standing open. He looked around him, looking up the road he’d come down and back the other way. No one was around. He stepped into his trailer and didn’t see the fist that plowed into his jaw. His legs buckled beneath him and he fell to the dirty floor.
Earl didn’t feel pain at first, though he could feel blood fill his mouth and run from his nose. In his peripheral vision, lights and flashes blended with dusty boots a foot away from his face. His thoughts were fuzzy and he couldn’t quite comprehend what had just happened.
“Whar the rat’s ass hella you’uns been, Earl?” a man snarled.
Earl shook his head, trying to clear the ringing and pounding within. The pain was starting to knock on his brain, wanting acknowledgment. He spat to his side, losing the accumulating blood and saliva and several teeth.
“Hobo? Wha’ the hell’s wrong wit’ you’uns? Why you is wuppin on me? You’uns knocked me sa hard, I cain’t see straight,” Earl said, touching his jaw gingerly, wincing at the discomfort.
“I’ll woop you’uns like a broke dick dog, you bastard. You’uns a said you’d be comin’ back. You’un dinnt come back. You’un juss lighted outta here, an’ didn’t leave no food, asshole,” Hobo snarled.
Earl felt the big man’s hand grab his shirt and haul him up. Hobo shook Earl like a ragdoll. Earl’s head rocked back and forth, and Hobo’s face blurred in front of him. On the periphery he saw Robby Rob sitting on his couch. He tried to grab at Hobo’s hands to stop the abuse.
“Confound it Hobo, what the hell? Stop it dag nabbit. I clean forgot ta come back,” Earl yelled.
Hobo let go of Earl and he stumbled back, catching himself on the table. His elbow hit just right on the funny bone and the numbing pain shot up his arm. He looked around his trailer and found it had been torn apart. “What the hell have ya’ll done did ta my home?”
“We was lookin’ fer some grub,” Robby Rob said, lifting his hip and ripping out a loud fart.
Earl looked at both men and knew they were coming off the meth: they had the same crazy look as when they’d stagger out of a bar or a party. They had hung together when his wife had left him years before and had been a help to him in recovering. They’d bolstered his flagging ego and had let him cry in his beer.
Both men had started up on meth since then, however, and that was a road Earl would not go down. The eyes of his friends were pinpoints, and he knew when they came off their high; they were mean, like mean drunks. He wished he’d listened to Harry and stayed at the farmhouse. Something in his gut told him this wasn’t going to end well for him. Once more the need to laugh hysterically overwhelmed him. He thought perhaps he was losing his mind. His mind began to race, and he began to slowly back out of his house.
“I was a comin’ back but couldn’t. Honest, guys,” Earl said, trying to placate them, his hands up in front of him as though trying to ward them off. He’d never seen them like this, or if he had, he’d been drunk and had not noticed their bizarre behavior.
“Well, we’s was hungry an’ we wants some vitals. You’uns got any in that thar truck?” Hobo barked.
“What? No. I left beers an’ some booze here.” Earl said, his jaw throbbing, matching the beat of his heart. He turned his head and spat outside the open door. He’d finally reached it, and was about to turn and run to his truck.
Hobo grabbed the front of his shirt and the big man shook him. “Well, I’m a takin’ your’un truck an’ I’m gonna find me some food,” Hobo laughed.
Earl started to protest and Hobo threw a hard punch into his gut. All the air went out of him and the dark began to swirl around him. He fell out of the door to his trailer and onto the ground.
He made it up on his hands and knees and retched violently. His arms were trembling and he tried to pull himself to the truck. There were people near him, but they were blurry. He felt a searing pain in his ribs and once more the air went out of him and he fell face first into the dirt.
Earl couldn’t breathe. It felt as though his ribs had been kicked into his lungs. He gasped desperately, and once more dark shapes gathered around him. He noticed that the dirt below his face was turning to bloody mud. He didn’t feel the boot to the head, nor the next kicks to his ribs.
Ӝ
It was late afternoon. Harry, Willene, Boggy, Marilyn, and Monroe stood around the freshly dug grave. Harry hugged his twin and kissed the top of her head. Willene had read from the Bible, John 14:1-4, her voice soft.
“Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in me. In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also. And you know the way to where I am going, Aman.”
The group repeated “Aman” and began to head back to the house. The wind was picking up and the clouds were drawing in, roiling and angry leaden slate battering rams. It had been brewing all day and it was finaly coming over the mountains. The vibrations of thunder roiled in the distance, mixing with the faraway gunshots. The group didn’t respond to the gunfire; it had become commonplace in less than a day. Harry looked up to the sky, the approaching cumulonimbus carrying petrichor to sting his nostrils.
Earl had left this morning after they’d finished building the blind. Harry knew that irresistible itch of curiosity. He felt it crawling all over him, and for a moment of madness he’d thought to go with Earl, but then thought better of it. He thought it was perhaps his many years in the military and the training he received. It was also due to his experiences in this feeling. He knew when to tamp it down and stay put.
He’d said he’d wait until dark, but something told him he’d better go look for Earl before it got dark. With the rain on the way, he didn’t want to be out on the streets in the darkness. When you can’t see what’s out there, it is hard to anticipate a defense.
Willene sat down at the kitchen table, looking over the tablet that listed their food supplies when he walked in. She looked up and smiled wanly at him. He thought she looked tired. He grabbed the keys to the truck and a cold fried chicken leg.
“Where are you going?” Willene asked, getting up from the table and following him.
“I’m going out to look for Earl. He’s been gone most of the day and he said he’d only be out a short while. I want to go look before night and the rain come,” Harry said, taking a bite off the fried chicken.
“It is dangerous out there, Harry. Do you really have to go?” Willene’s eyes filled with worry.
“I know, but I can’t leave Earl out there. I’d best get to it,” Harry said, walking out of the house.
“You got your gun?” Willene asked.
Harry grinned and patted his chest; he was wearing his tactical vest, which held several mags for his Glock. “Always.”
“Well, don’t stay out long, ‘cause you know I’ll worry. Don’t take any crap from anyone,” Willene said.
“Sure will. Is it your turn for watch?” Harry asked.
“Not yet. I’ll make dinner and then I’ll take the watch,” Willene called after him.
“If I’m not back before dark, my NVGs are on the hall table,” Harry said as he pulled out, and waved at his sister. Once down at the bottom of the drive, he got out of the truck and moved the barricade, then jumped back in and pulled the truck out. He got back out and replaced the barricade.
Ozone filled the air that came through the open window, the breeze humid, pregnant with the pending rain. The wind ruffled his hair, and Harry knew he’d need a haircut soon. He was use to wearing his hair short, practically the high and tight the marines sported. Now, however, he’d more than likely let it grow a bit.
Did he have any duty to the army now? Should he report to Fort Campbell? But the thought of leaving his sister and their guests alone in a world gone to hell was a non-sequitur. He could not leave. He’d been on the verge of retirement, and was, in fact, on terminal leave, essentially out of the army and on vacation. He’d not see any retirement pay coming his way anytime soon...he laughed at the thought.
Perhaps many from the army would desert and head home, but the single men and women might stay to protect the country. His stomach flopped, thinking of Fran in Germany, and all the other American service members around the world, separated from their loved ones.
They would never see their loved ones again. They would never know what happened to them, if their loved ones were dead or alive. And even if the military could bring them home, would their families be alive or would they be killed for what was in their cupboards?
He swallowed hard. He felt lucky to have been home when this went down. He’d never really thought about if or when the shit hit the fan. Had assumed there would be some kind of warning or something to let him know something was coming. There hadn’t been, except for his grandfather’s words. It had been quiet and complete. No fanfare, no bombs; just the world stopping in place.
He drove along Highway 52 toward Beattyville, encountering no other working vehicles along the way. There weren’t many dead cars, but he slowed around the curving mountain roads, anticipating blockages around the blind corners. He was careful; he didn’t want to damage his truck in an unforgiving world. The road went past infrequent farmsteads and homes. He had an idea where Earl might be.
He passed an old man walking along the road, and the old man raised a hand as he passed by. Harry returned the wave, feeling life was normal, then came to an abandoned car. Vertigo ensued as the two different worlds collided and normal met abnormal.
He slowed down when a dog ran across the road. He watched the dog and considered how they might now be endangered. When people got hungry, cats and dogs were more likely to disappear. He shivered in revulsion. He knew people in many countries with overpopulation and rampant poverty did eat dogs and cats, as anything was up for grabs. Now his country was facing the same challenges.
Pulling into town, he slowed and looked around. Two men standing a non-functioning stoplight watched Harry as he approached their location. They stepped off the curb and started toward the middle of the road, their intent clear.
On their faces were ruthless determination and cruelty. He stepped on the accelerator and sped up, aiming for the two men, who, in the typical self-preservation of cowards with too much power, turned and ran to the side of the street. They waved their arms and screamed at him as he passed.
Now wary, he pulled his weapon from the holster and laid it in his lap. He’d keep it ready. His eyes scanned the streets. He came up to the bar he knew Earl frequented. Three men were hanging outside, and Harry slowed down. Picking up his Glock, he held it low, beneath the window.
“Hey boys, ya’ll seen Earl lately?” Harry called.
Two of the men shook their heads and one pointed down the road. He raised his hand in thanks and sped off, not wanting to linger. Some way down the road, he turned down a residential street. Going up and down the side streets, he saw no children playing in the yards, no women hanging clothes on lines.
Curtains were closed, some windows broken. A few houses had plywood nailed up over windows. Here in town, life was more dangerous; there was nowhere to run, and he was sure there was nowhere to hide.
Turning down another road, he saw the Walmart two blocks away. Even from that distance, he spotted five armed men. It looked like someone had taken over the store; for the good of the town, he hoped, but he doubted it. Those who had the most guns ruled now. He turned onto another road, weaving around more stalled cars.
He finally came to the trailer park. Many of those living in the trailer park were very poor. They’d had nothing, and now they had less than nothing. They’d become the third world now, poorer than the meager among them.
If they thought the government was going to help them and were waiting for it, they were walking dead. If his grandfather was right, the solar coronal event had more than likely killed the planet’s infrastructures and crippled the governments, militaries and civilian law enforcers all over the world. No one was getting out of this unscathed, especially those who’d not planned and who didn’t have the resources.
Though he was sure many of the U.S. government agencies and players were in place with the continuity of government, as well as some military, the fact was there were over three hundred million Americans without power and little to no food in their homes. It was a disaster in the making.
Many Americans shopped every few days; he knew he did. In Germany, he’d never had more than two or three days’ worth of food in his house. His heart fluttered; he knew Fran was the same. He was sure she didn’t have much food either.
There was no transportation to move supplies to across the country, no power to get the fuel to the trucks to transport the supplies. Perhaps the steam trains should be brought out and used? He hoped some government entity would think of it and perhaps get the ball rolling. That would take time, time many people didn’t have. Within a week, people would become very desperate.
It might take months to get food to where it needed to go, and Harry was certain that the largest cities would be burning by now, chaos ruling the day. The lawless would see this as an opportunity to run rampant, with murder and rape at the top of their to-do list. He was glad he didn’t live in a big city.
CHAPTER TWELVE
It was only the second day, but Harry was certain the government, if there was one, was scrambling to figure out what was going on. They may have known already and simply decided not to tell their citizens. After all, what could they do to stop a coronal event? Telling the public would have sent them into a panic. However, it may have given
some the chance to stock up, perhaps tipping the scales between life and death. Or it could simply have accelerated the killing and raiding.
Had the government set up FEMA camps ahead of time? Had they staged readily-available trailers filled with supplies in anticipation of the EMP? He would more than likely never know. If they had, what a logistical nightmare that would be; he could just imagine all the rioting and hysteria.
They were so isolated in the mountains. He’d listened over the years to his grandfather’s stories of the old days. If you couldn’t walk the distance, you didn’t go unless you were willing to be away from your homestead. The Appalachian people had been a hardy people, and had survived and made do with very little.
He wondered at those now alive and wasn’t sure they were as hardy as those who’d inhabited this land a century ago. He doubted it. Did any of them keep up the old ways, the old traditions. Life had become soft, easy. Everyone was guilty of relying on electronics. Most families ate their meals out of boxes instead of making things from scratch. He doubted most kept much food on hand, and if it were in the fridge, that would be going rancid soon.
Harry had seen documentaries about the people of Appalachia. When he’d entered boot camp years ago, his accent had been heavy and he’d been teased. Some had treated him as though he were stupid. It was a misnomer about accents and IQs, yet it still happened. To many of his coworkers, he still had a heavy accent, but here he was somewhat out of place; people knew he was local, but he no longer sounded like them.
As he turned down the road to Earl’s trailer, he saw a body lying on the ground in front of the trailer. He sped up and pulled to a halt in front of Earl’s body. Taking his weapon out and holding it to the ready, he looked around. Earl was covered with blood, and his clothing was torn and dirty. Harry looked around and saw his neighbors watching. None stepping out to help the downed man. Rage flooded his body and he turned on them, holstering his weapon.
“Could none of you have helped this man, your neighbor? Could you not have at least covered him? Keep the flies and maggots off of him?” Harry shouted, the veins standing out on his neck. He could feel the heat in his face and heard the pounding in his ears. The scent of blood filled the air around him.
