Out of LA

by Dennis Elder

  Mark acknowledged Susan’s comment and then said, “It’s a good question. But let’s focus on where we might go first. That might affect how we travel.”

  Susan seemed OK with Mark’s response. After a second Frank spoke.

  “We need to find a place with good protection. Someplace we can defend easily.”

  Junior followed up and said, “Absolutely. We’re a small force. We’ll need a place that has natural defenses. Someplace where a small group like ours could fight off a much larger group.”

  “Yea,” said Jake Oliver, the group’s resident cynic. “We get an army knocking on our door, we’ll need a way to channel their movements and direct their advance.”

  “Food is going to be a long-term issue too,” suggested Doc Martin. “We need a place where we can begin to grow food by next year in the spring. But no later than the following year.”

  “Like farmers?” asked Jake.

  “Just like farmers,” replied the Doc. “Grocery store canned and processed food will only last so long – especially as they are exposed to high heat or freezing cold. Contamination, botulism, spoiling – it will happen quickly too. We certainly need a place that we can defend but is also needs good, cultivatable soil where we can grow fresh food over the long term.”

  That comment brought silence to the group. No one spoke for a full 15 seconds.

  “When Tyron first suggested someplace warm I was thinking, right on brother,” said Boon. “The western US around New Mexico is nice most of the year. But I’m not so sure about that now.”

  “How so,” asked Mark.

  “Two reasons,” replied Boon. “First, my guess is the surviving HBs aren’t smart enough to put on a jacket. So those left in the North are more likely to die off after one cold winter. But those in the south would have a better chance of surviving the winter months. And, I don’t think they would travel north. And frankly the less of them we see the better.”

  No one responded for moment.

  “But I think we have a much bigger problem,” continued Boon. “If we survived this thing then there will be others who survived it too. And you know some of those survivors are going to turn out to be bad guys. They will join together in gangs. Once the larger gangs consume the food and resources in one area, they will move on. They will move from area to area, confiscating and killing to get what they need – like nomads. I also think initially the bad guys will stay south, where its warmer and the pickings are easier. I love the beach and the sunny weather, but I vote we go somewhere more remote, someplace where the bad guys would be less likely to travel to.”

  There was quiet for a few seconds. The group was trying to image such a place. Mark looked around and finally spoke up.

  “I have a suggestion,” said Mark. “After my parents went through their divorce, I spent two of my high school years living with my grandparents. They lived in a remote city at the south end of a long valley surrounded by high mountains on three sides. It’s a natural fortress with a freshwater river running down the middle of the valley.

  “Sounds like the garden of Eden,” said Doc.

  “Not even,” replied Mark. It’s in the high desert. Lots of winter snow.

  “Where we talkin?” asked Tyrone.

  “Utah,” said Mark. “In the Great Salt Lake valley.”

  “Utah?” questioned Randy. “Isn’t that where the Mormons live?

  “Not anymore,” said Jake.

  The group didn’t know what to make of Mark’s suggestion. None of them were familiar with the place. None of them had even been there. Mark could see the hesitancy in their faces. So, he sat forward in his chair and began to lay out the details of his plan. He’d been thinking about the idea since yesterday.

  “Here are some reasons why I think Salt Lake City would be a good long-term place for us,” said Mark.

  Mark picked up a three-foot stick of baseboard molding from the floor by his chair. He stretched it forward toward the middle of the group. The floor was thick with drywall dust that had not been swept up yet. He put the tip of the stick on the cement floor and began to draw a long oval in the dust.

  “The valley is about twenty miles long and about the same wide,” continued Mark. “Like I said before, it’s naturally protected. On the east there are eleven thousand foot mountains. The western mountain range is over eight thousand feet high. The southern approach has six thousand foot mountains with a small easily defendable entry point. The North is mostly blocked by the Great Salt Lake. Beyond the Lake is a desert void of any fresh water for hundreds of miles. The valley is completely isolated. Vegas is four hundred plus miles to the south with small mountain towns in between. Denver is the closest large city to the East and its over four hundred and fifty miles away. Reno is hundreds of miles to the west. North of Salt Lake City is populated with even smaller towns.”

  “I remember studying about the Mormons in my history class,” said Frank. “They left or escaped the Midwest in the 1840s or something and settled in Utah when it was just a desert.”

  “It does sound remote,” agreed Randy. “And probably pretty cold in the winter. The HBs would most likely die off after the first year.”

  “How come you know so much about this place,” asked Jake. “You got an old girlfriend there or something, boss?”

  Nobody laughed, but it got a smile out of Tyrone.

  “Like I said,” replied Mark. “I spent a couple of summers there during high school and an entire year as a senior at Granite High – just before I enlisted. And I had a great geography teacher.”

  Mark turned back to the floor and continued his drawing lesson.

  “The eastern mountains collect a lot of snow in the winter, suggested Mark. “Greatest snow on Earth they use to say. Important if you were a snow skier. There are several freshwater reservoirs up there and a large valley lake just south - plenty for farming and agriculture.”

  Heads in the room were bobbing up and down a little. They were beginning to see the advantages. Mark continued.

  “But the greatest advantage of heading to Salt Lake City is food storage,” offered Mark.

  “Food Storage?” questioned Susan. “What’s that?”

  “Almost every home in Utah has a basement,” began Mark. “When I was a teenager in Salt Lake City I made friends with several of the guys who lived in my grandparents’ neighborhood. In most of my Mormon friend’s basements there was a separate room set aside just for something they called food storage. Mormons were supposed to store a year’s supply for their families. Something in their religion.”

  “How do you know it’s in every basement?” asked Sam.

  “It might not be in every basement, but it should be in a lot of them,” said Mark. “Around 70% of Utah’s population was Mormon.”

  “Seventy percent,” reinforced Junior.

  “That is very, very interesting,” offered Doc. “Basements naturally stay cooler year round. And that quantity of food storage could provide a very large community with enough calories to easily get us through two winters, or until we could get our farming established.”

  “Exactly,” replied Mark.

  The group seemed more convinced that Utah might be the right kind of place for them to settle in. There weren’t any more questions. But Mark wanted to make sure he had their total support.

  “One thing though,” said Mark.

  “Here it comes,” reacted Jake.

  “I think the Salt Lake valley is definitely our best bet for a safe and defendable location. But I also think our best chance for long term survival is if we stay together. But that’s just my opinion. You guys may have other ideas.”

  No one said anything so Mark continued.

  “We know and trust each other. We were good together in Afghanistan and we’ve been even better since we got back. But the decision to head north needs to be something we all agree on. If somebody feels they need to go somewhere else, then we need to let them go with our best wishes.”

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nbsp; The group looked around at each other. It seems like no one wanted to do anything else. Frank looked at the group and then at Mark.

  “I think we’re all in,” said Frank.

  Mark looked over his group. They were good people, and very reliable. With the exception of maybe Susan, he could rely on any of them to back him up in a firefight. You couldn’t ask much more from anyone.

  “OK. Then we’re all in?” asked Mark one more time, as he looked over the group. “Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

  No one said anything. So, Mark started in again.

  “OK. All in then. Its Utah or bust,” said Mark. “Next point of business. The trip to Utah could take us weeks, maybe even months. We’ll undoubtedly run into a few Unfriendlys, or bad guys as Boon put it.

  Mark let a few seconds go by to ensure everyone was listening.

  “To maximize team and individual protection, I propose we adopt a military command structure much like we followed when we were in country,” said Mark. “We need it for several reasons. One. If a leader goes down a replacement needs to be ready and waiting to fill in. There may not be time for a vote on the road. Two. Democracy is a great concept when a border is secure. But it may be years before we see a secure border again. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a huge fan of the Bill of Rights. But until we find and establish a safe home base again, our group will need strong and decisive leadership. When it comes time that the heavy threats are gone, then I’ll be the first one to cast my vote for leaders elected by the people. But until then, I propose we command by military rule.”

  Mark looked into the faces of each person in the group. He wanted to make sure everyone agreed to the rules he proposed.

  “You thinking ranks again?” suggested Frank Jones.

  “Yes,” replied Mark. “Like this: I use major, same as before. Frank was a Captain, so he stays captain. If I go down, Frank is promoted to Major. We’ll go with two Lieutenants, 1st Lieutenant is Sam and 2nd Lieutenant is Junior. If Frank goes down, then Sam takes his place, and so on. Everybody else gets equal rank of Sergeant, including Susan.”

  Nobody objected. So, Mark continued.

  “Even with the ranks, we’ll stay informal like we’ve always operated.

  “What about picking up survivors. Maybe even adding a few to the group?” asked Doc.

  “Right now, I’m very hesitant to add anyone who might slow us down or reduce our survivability as a team,” replied Mark.

  “But if somebody or group did add to the team, I think we should consider it,” suggested Doc.

  “OK, we’d consider it,” responded Mark. “But we’d have to agree as a team to add anyone. If we couldn’t totally agree then I’ll make the decision either way and then we’d move on. No more arguments. Agreed?” continued Mark, as he looked around the group.

  Heads nodded. No one objected.

  “Alright then,” said Mark. He felt much better now that everyone was on the same page. Now it was time for Boon to do his magic. Nobody could organize and equip for a project better than Boon.

  “I’ve asked Boon to get us organized,” Mark said. “We’ve got a long journey ahead of us. It’s going to be hot in some spots and cold in others, and we’re most likely going to have to fight from time to time.”

  Mark sat back a little in his chair and then turned toward Boon. Boon took a deep breath and began.

  “Listen up,” started Boon. “If we’re traveling to Utah, we need to prep before we begin moving. First, we need to gather supplies. We’ll divide into four teams. Each team will have specific assignments. There will be conduct protocols. We’ll follow communication and reporting procedures. We’ll focus on four areas: Food, Clothing, weapons and transportation.”

  “There ain’t no transportation,” quipped Tyrone. “Trust me. Engines just won’t turn over. No spark, no nothing.”

  “We won’t be going by automobile,” responded Boon. There was a little silence and then Boon continued. “We’ll be riding bicycles.”

  The group didn’t respond immediately. Most of them were a little shocked. Then Jake said, “Bikes? We’re gonna ride bikes to Utah?” Jake guffawed at the thought.

  Boon just smiled and then continued.

  “Its 750 miles from here to the Salt Lake valley. There will be multiple rises and drops in elevation all along the route. Just between LA and Vegas there are several stretches of road that run downhill for ten miles,” Boon continued with a smile on this face. Then he looked directly at Jake.

  “Would you rather coast down those hills on a bike or walk down them?” questioned Boon.

  The advantages were obvious. Jake got it and so Boon continued.

  “Besides I estimate we can travel up to 45 miles or more a day on bikes, maybe even more. If we hike we might make 20,” said Boon. “And we’ll conserve more energy on bikes.”

  “You thinkin like a Mountain bike, Boon?” asked Randy.

  “More like a road bike,” answered Boon. “They are better designed for long distance over hard pavement.”

  “What kind of hard ground are we talking about?” asked Frank.

  “We’ll travel nearly the entire trip over the I-15 freeway,” responded Mark. It runs all the way from LA to Salt Lake City.”

  “I’ve done triathlons where we rode bikes for a hundred plus miles in one day,” suggested Susan. “Some road bikes can be fitted to carry a lot of weight. We could even tow lightweight trailers behind us.”

  Everyone was looking at Susan. She seemed to know a lot about bikes.

  The sudden attention made Susan instantly uncomfortable. So, she said, in her defense, “You know trailers…. like for carrying kids behind you.”

  Boon knew an opportunity when he saw it.

  “I’m going to make a change in one of the team assignments,” said Boon. “Since Susan seems to know a lot more about bikes than any of us, I’m putting her in charge of outfitting the group with bikes. She’ll be our new transportation sergeant.”

  Susan was obviously overwhelmed and spoke up, “Hey I didn’t say I wanted to lead anything.”

  Randy Phillips was sitting next to Susan and leaned over to her with a smirk on his face. “First thing they teach you in the Military is never volunteer for nothing.”

  That got a few muffled laughs from the group. Then Boon returned to the assignments.

  “Susan, Tyrone and Frank are on the transportation team,” continued Boon, as he read from notes scribbled on the note pad in his hand. “Food team includes Doc, Jake and Sam. Randy and Junior are on weapons. Major Harris and me will do the clothing.”

  Boon turned back to Major Mark Harris.

  Mark took over again. “We go armed wherever we travel. Nobody goes anywhere alone. No exceptions. “Keep an eye out for radios that might still work. We could really use a few of those. Maps too, LA area and between here and Utah. We’ll need multiple sets.”

  Then Boon spoke. “Each team needs to find some kind of a phone book. Check restaurants, look in motels, then homes. A map and phone book will lead you to what you need. Remember we need quality items. Forget the general merchandise stores. We’re preparing to travel for several weeks. Could be months. Think like you’re on the road already. Everything needs to be lightweight. The open desert will be hot, the mountains will be cold. It will undoubtedly rain, even snow. Everybody, without exception, reports back here by 4 pm every night – well before dark.”

  Mark quickly assessed the team. After seeing so much destruction and the hopelessness that naturally went with it, it felt good to have something to do and have a goal.

  “Any final questions?” asked Mark.

  Randy raised his hand.

  “Yea, Randy,” asked Mark.

  “You think we can really make it all the way to Utah, Major?” asked Randy.

  There was a pause before Mark replied. “I don’t know. It’s a long way to travel in the open, and everyday we’ll face unknown challenges. But, I also believe that if we stay here in
LA, we won’t survive. The sooner we get out of Southern California the better.”

  After the team was dismissed, individuals naturally gravitated to their assigned teams and preliminary plans were discussed. Notes were taken. Shoe and clothing sizes were recorded. Packs were slung. Within thirty minutes weapons were loaded and each team slowly and deliberately left the safety of the Police Station. People had their assignments. They moved with purpose and efficiency. Everyone knew what was at stake.

  Chapter 27: What’s with this guy

  Sylvia Harmon sat in a chair at the base of the basement stairs in the home that had come to be known as the Nest. Her trusty 357 magnum handgun lay across her lap. The sun was up now but the kids were still asleep in their beds. During the previous evening Sylvia had been unable to sleep much. Instead she chose to stand watch over her little chicks – especially after what happened yesterday.