by Harley Tate
Not get shot. Walter exhaled. He knew Drew was only looking for some reassurance. A little training would up his confidence, maybe even make him an asset instead of a liability. Walter thought back to his land navigation training. It had been more years than he cared to admit since Walter had needed foot-patrol skills, but he still remembered the key signals.
“Ready for a crash course?”
Drew nodded.
“First, keep a few steps behind me. Never get too close. Next, if I raise my hand in a fist like this,” Walter bent his arm at ninety degrees, fist straight up, “it means freeze.”
“Okay.”
“If I swing my arm up quickly with my palm open, it means come forward.” He demonstrated the motion until Drew nodded.
“You’ll be ahead of me, so what if you see someone or there’s a threat?”
“It’s the reverse of the forward signal. If you need to take cover, I’ll raise my arm and then drop it quickly. If I do that, get on the ground or hide behind a tree.”
Drew’s brow knitted. “All right. Can you run through those again?”
Walter demonstrated each signal a few more times until Drew seemed confident. He could tell the man was running the motions through his head over and over, trying to memorize them.
A two-minute course in silent patrol wasn’t easy for a civilian, but Drew was right—walking into a potential hostile situation without a means to communicate was a fool’s errand.
As they prepared to set off, Drew spoke up. “What means run like hell?”
Walter managed to keep his smirk in check. “The sound of gunfire should do the trick.”
Drew paled. “You think someone will shoot at us?”
Walter turned back to the forest. “Plan for the worst. Then you’ll always be prepared.” He raised his arm, palm open, signaling for Drew to come forward. With the sun setting any minute, they needed to get on with it.
CHAPTER FIVE
TRACY
Sacramento, CA
11:00 a.m.
Joe Travers lived in a tiny ranch less than a mile from the library Tracy used to work at five days a week. She couldn’t believe how much had changed in such a short time.
“How did you say you know this guy again?”
Tracy glanced over at Brianna with a smile. “He was a regular at the library. Always looking for a new thriller author to read.” Her sunny expression faltered. “If it weren’t for Joe, we might not be having this conversation.”
She focused on the road with a frown, willing back the tears that threatened to fill her eyes. Joe’s explanation of the effects of solar weather had been the reason Tracy loaded up on supplies. If it hadn’t been for him… She cleared her throat. “Solar weather was his hobby. He’s the one who explained Coronal Mass Ejections and EMPs to me.”
Tucker leaned forward from the back seat. “If he knew about it, why are we checking on him? Shouldn’t he be prepared?”
Tracy inhaled through her nose and exhaled through her mouth, barely able to keep her voice steady. “Joe is in his eighties and walks with a cane. Even if he knew about the EMP potential, he wouldn’t have been able to do much.”
Brianna and Tucker fell silent. She didn’t have to explain that four days without power could be the difference between life and death for a person that age. They didn’t need to see the bodies in the retirement community where Wanda lived or talk to the manager there to confirm it.
She just hoped they weren’t too late. The little Nissan Leaf cruised silently down the street, the battery powering the vehicle at low speeds. Tracy didn’t know how long the little car would last, but so far, so good.
As long as they kept their drives to a minimum, they might be able to rely on the car for a few weeks. Tracy glanced at the houses as they drove down residential streets—every one still mowed and maintained like the power outage was a blip on an otherwise ordinary week. All the husbands and wives were probably standing in front of their picture windows surveying their domains, thinking surely it will come back on tomorrow.
She snorted to herself. Not happening.
As they turned a corner a person caught her eye. The woman couldn’t have been much older than herself, blonde hair pulled back in a haphazard ponytail. Skintight athletic pants hugged toned legs. A tank top showed off arms tanned by the Northern California sun.
From a cursory glance, she looked like any other woman in the neighborhood. But as Tracy slowed the car, other tells became apparent. The dark circles under her eyes. The grease shining her hair more than usual. The hollow look to her cheeks.
She looked tired. Hungry, even.
Tracy turned back to the road, her grip tightening on the steering wheel. Was this the future? In a month would that woman even be alive?
Glancing at the two teenagers with her on this trip, Tracy frowned. Brianna with her golden curls and Tucker with his bright eyes and pale skin. They might have plenty back home, but other people would be hungry soon, if they weren’t already.
Most people Tracy knew only had a few days’ worth of food. Tiny houses meant tiny pantries. People relied on the corner grocery store or the nearest fast food restaurant instead of their own supply.
If all of the houses they drove by were almost out of food, what would happen in the coming days? If FEMA or a local charity didn’t show up soon…
Tracy shook off the spiraling thoughts. She could only control her own actions, no one else’s. As she turned the corner, she pointed down the street.
“Joe’s house is just ahead.”
Slowing the vehicle, Tracy scanned the mailboxes for Joe’s number: 126, 128, 130… 132. There. A tidy little white house with black shutters and a red door. Old school, just like Joe.
She pulled into the drive and killed the engine. “Are you two ready?”
Tucker glanced at his girlfriend before nodding. “I’ll stand watch outside.”
Tracy climbed out of the car with both kids right behind. Unlike so many houses they passed on the drive over, Joe’s front lawn sprouted with weeds. Fluffy white heads of dandelions waved in the breeze and blooming clover buzzed with honeybees. The place looked unkempt. Abandoned.
Maybe that’s his plan. A vacant house wouldn’t have anything worth stealing. It wasn’t a bad strategy, all things considered. Tracy made her way to the front door and pulled open the screen. Her knock sounded hollow as it echoed through the house.
Brianna shifted beside her, fidgeting with a lock of hair as Tracy knocked again. “Joe? Joe Travers? Are you in there? It’s Tracy from the library. Just came to check on you.”
Tracy cupped her hand around her ear and pressed her head to the door, listening. Nothing. Not a single sound besides her own breathing. The red door reminded her of her grandmother’s house. She only visited the woman once or twice.
The first time, Tracy had been so full of hope. Grandmothers were supposed to care. They were supposed to be plump, bouncy ladies with fresh-baked muffins and lots of kisses. The woman whose bony hand Tracy shook didn’t have a kind bone in her body, much less the humanity required for a kiss.
The second time, Tracy knew better. No one would save her. No one in the little white house with the same red door would take her in. She stepped back with a frown. She had a feeling they couldn’t save Joe, either.
“I’m walking around back.”
Brianna nodded, her teeth nibbling on her lower lip like a mouse with a piece of cheese. “Don’t take too long. This place is giving me the heebie-jeebies.”
Tracy stepped into the weedy grass, peering in every window she passed, but seeing nothing. The mini blinds kept the outside light out and her peering eyes from glimpsing the inside. A short chain-link fence separated the front from the back and Tracy opened the gate, pushing it just wide enough to slip through.
She scanned her surroundings. A worn privacy fence. Scraggly bushes. Small concrete patio with a county trash can and recycling bin. Nothing out of the ordinary.
The
back door appeared as solid as the front and closed up tight. Tracy tried the door handle, but it didn’t budge. She bent to the ground and fished beneath the mat. He had to keep a spare key somewhere.
After five minutes of fruitless searching, Tracy palmed her hips in frustration. She wasn’t leaving without getting inside. Best case scenario, Joe had packed up and left for greener pastures. Worst case, he was sucking in his last breath as she stood outside, fretting over what to do.
“Any luck?”
Brianna’s voice startled her and she jumped.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay. I was looking for a key, but I can’t find one. I’ll have to break a window.”
“You sure you want to do that? What if he’s just out for a drive?”
“Joe doesn’t drive. His license was revoked last year.”
“Oh.” Brianna pointed at the window by the back door. “That’s probably your best bet.”
The window stood just higher than hip level, with a single pane in an aluminum frame. Tracy stepped closer and peered in. Single crank to open it, no screen to speak of. It looked original to the house, which meant it wasn’t tempered. When she broke it, the glass would shatter in nasty, jagged pieces.
Tracy wished she had some tape or a blanket; anything to muffle the sound. But they didn’t think that far ahead and they were running out of time. This was only the first stop of the day. Walmart was next.
She turned around and surveyed the yard. A brick from the landscaping edging would have to do. After digging it out of the ground, Tracy hoisted it up. “If you see or hear anyone, come get me. Otherwise, wait out here.”
“You sure?”
Tracy nodded. “I won’t be long.” With a deep breath, she pulled back and launched the brick at the window. The glass shattered and the brick took the metal mini-blinds with it, clattering to the floor along with massive shards of glass.
Great. So much for being quiet.
Tracy knocked the remaining glass from the bottom of the window and after tossing her jacket over the sill, she hoisted herself up. It was a tight fit, but she made it, slipping into the dark house and landing on a pile of glass. It crunched beneath her feet, drowning out the rapid beating of her heart.
“Joe? Joe are you here?”
Tracy stood in the dark kitchen, blinking until her eyes adjusted to the dim light. As the room came into focus, she frowned. Stacks of cans sat on the kitchen table, alongside boxes of shelf-stable milk and pasta. A few kitchen cabinet doors stood ajar, revealing tidy stacks of plates and glasses, but no food.
Had Joe been preparing to leave? Did something happen? She called for him again, but heard no response. She would need to go room by room, searching. She exhaled. Here we go.
The kitchen opened into a small living room and breakfast nook, both neat and empty. Off the living room, a hallway led to the two bedrooms and single bath. Tracy braced herself. If Joe was still there, she hoped he was still alive. Please be sleeping. Or too sick to stand.
She could handle that.
Tracy reached for the first door handle, turning as she pushed the door open. An office. She exhaled in relief. She opened the next door and found a small bathroom with a pedestal sink, toilet, and tub/shower combination. That left only one door. The bedroom.
Before she opened the door, she knew. On some level, she’d known since the very first day. Saying goodbye to Joe that fateful day when the world changed… She knew, but she wasn’t prepared.
Tracy pushed the door open and her hand flew to her mouth, half because of the stench and half because of the sight. Joe lay in bed, hands on his chest, his skin gray from death. She walked around the edge of the bed, shoes silent on the plush rug, and stopped at his bedside table.
An empty bottle of nitroglycerin tablets stood beside a water glass, and a piece of paper sat beneath them. Tracy blinked. It couldn’t be.
She pulled the piece of paper out from beneath the glass and bottle and gasped. It was a letter addressed to her.
Dear Tracy,
I hope this letter finds you well. If you are standing beside my bed reading this, then take comfort in the fact that you have survived. From the moment I met you four years ago, I knew you were one of the good ones.
A person with more kindness in her than fear. A woman with an open heart and a backbone of steel.
When the power grid failed, I knew my time had come to an end. An old man who can’t walk more than a quarter mile without a rest can’t survive in a world without electricity. Instead of leaving at the wrong end of a gun or after days of no food and water, I’ve chosen the quick and painless way out.
Before you leave, please take the food I’ve stacked in the kitchen. There are also a handful of supplies in the office, along with a twelve-gauge shotgun and a box of shells. She hasn’t been fired in years, but she’s a dependable old gal, so you can rely on her.
The coming days and weeks will test you like you’ve never been tested, but you will find a way. You are a survivor. Remember that.
Take care of your daughter. She’ll need you to show her the way.
Until we meet again,
Joe Travers
P.S. Ignore that science fiction book sitting on my desk. I’ll always be a thriller fan at heart.
Tracy wiped at her eyes before her tears ruined the last words from Joe she would ever read. What a good man. He had not only warned her of what was coming, but he made sure her trip to his house wasn’t in vain.
She looked down at his peaceful form. How she wished she could bury him. But they didn’t have the time. It would take hours to dig a deep enough grave. If someone caught them…
No. Joe wouldn’t want her to risk it. As much as she hated it, Joe was in his final resting place. She leaned over and placed a kiss on his cold, wrinkled hand.
Thank you for everything.
Half an hour later, she unlocked the back door and walked out with a shotgun hanging off a strap on her shoulder and a cardboard box full of food in her arms.
Brianna stood up, brushing off the dust and dirt from the concrete patio. Her eyes bounced between the gun, the box, and Tracy’s puffy face. “Is he—”
Tracy nodded. “Took his own life.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Sloane.”
“So am I.” She hoisted the box a bit higher and motioned toward the front yard. “Let’s get on the road. I’m done here.”
Following Brianna back out to the driveway, Tracy said a final goodbye to Joe. She needed to put this morning behind her. They were on a mission.
CHAPTER SIX
TRACY
Walmart, Sacramento, CA
1:00 p.m.
Seven. They had only passed seven working cars during the entire drive across town to Walmart and four times as many abandoned on the side of the road. Tracy didn’t know what it meant. Was everyone else still stuck on the highways? Had most cars run out of gas already? Were most people staying home?
She pulled into the parking lot of the super center, wary and on edge. If the place had already been ransacked, who knew what unsavory types still lurked inside. On the other hand, if no one had broken in, would their attempts trigger a backup alarm? Would the police show up?
Tracy hadn’t seen a single police officer since the power went out, but Madison had relayed their run-in with a local cop. They couldn’t be arrested. Madison and the others needed them.
“I don’t see any activity.” Tucker sat twisted in the back seat, scanning the lot and building. “We should go around back.”
“Why?” Brianna frowned at her boyfriend. “The front doors aren’t locked down. The metal grate is wide open. I say we just ram a cart through them and go on in.”
“Tucker’s right. We need to keep a low profile. If anyone’s in there, breaking through the front doors is a surefire way to let them know we’re here.”
Brianna crossed her arms. “The back door won’t be any better. Aren’t they usually metal?”
Tucker
leaned forward, arms braced on the front seats. “I worked the stockroom last summer at the one in Davis. The loading dock will be the best place to break in. Half the time the rolling garage doors aren’t even locked.”
“Really?” Tracy found such a lack of security surprising.
“Most of the big Walmarts accept deliveries twenty-four hours a day. Why pay for a lock when the loading door is always open?”
If anyone knew about saving money, it was Walmart. Tracy followed Tucker’s suggestion and drove around the warehouse to the loading docks. She backed the Leaf into the bay against the far wall and shut it off.
“All right. We need a plan.” She turned to face the two college students. They were so young. Part of her hated putting them in danger. But she didn’t have a choice. She needed more eyes and ears and hands than her own.
“I say we split up. We’ll cover more aisles and be able to grab more supplies.”
Brianna glanced at the loading bay door. “That’s assuming we can even get in.”
Tracy nodded. “First, we check the doors. If there’s one that’s open, we go in, shut it behind us. We can spend the next few minutes scoping out the store. If it’s secure, we can split up. I’ll take camping and automotive. Brianna, you head for guns and ammo. Tucker, can you handle food and water?”
“You betcha.” Tucker rubbed his palms together. “If we run into trouble, what should we do?”
Tracy managed a small smile. “Scream as loud as you can and run like hell.”
Brianna let out a short laugh. “I like your style, Mrs. Sloane.”
“Call me Tracy, please.”
Brianna’s eyes lit up. “Okay, Tracy. After you.”
Tracy opened the driver’s side door and stepped out. Brianna and Tucker followed a moment later. They climbed up onto the loading bay and Tucker reached for the handle.
“Here goes nothing.” He tugged and tugged and tugged. “Guess this one’s locked. I’ll try another.”
On the sixth door he let out a whoop. “It’s open! Come on.” Tucker pulled the rolling bay door up just enough for them to duck underneath. As soon as they are inside, he slid it shut. They were cocooned in darkness.
