by Bobby Akart
Sook continued to study Duncan’s work, learning every step of the way. After he removed the esophagus, the remainder of the deer’s internal organs came out fairly easily.
“Okay, now we allow the rest of the blood to drain out.”
Duncan wiped his knife on his shirt and replaced it into its sheath tied around his leg. Despite the cold, he took off his shirt, leaving only a Grand Canyon Skywalk tee shirt on, which he’d found at the Hualapai Airport.
Sook approached him and took the bloody shirt out of his hands. “I will go to the stream and wash this for you. We can dry it over the fire while you cook the meat.”
For the next hour, Sook organized their supplies and washed Duncan’s shirt. He skinned the deer and began to butcher it. Initially, he feared they would not be able to take all of it with them. He lamented that the best they could do was eat well that night and the next morning.
But his foraging in the building provided him an option. In one of the offices, Duncan found a soft-sided expandable lunch cooler. He packed deer meat and snow into it for the trip. There were also a couple of large ziplock baggies in the kitchen. He thought the remainder of the deer meat would provide at least four days of meals before they’d have to forage or hunt again.
After they ate, Duncan and Sook studied the maps hanging in the visitors’ area. The direct route home took them through the heart of the Gila National Forest, which consisted of hiking trails and a few dirt service roads. The paved roads led them around the forest but added over a hundred fifty miles to their journey, not to mention the likelihood of interactions with others.
“Sook, if we take this direct route, we can follow the trails and creek beds until we reach the other side at this point.”
He pointed to the map at Truth or Consequences, New Mexico. The small town, originally called Hot Springs, was renamed after the popular game show from the early days of television in the 1940s. The game show was known for its format in which players would be required to perform a task correctly, or they would suffer the consequences.
In a post-apocalyptic world, the rules were the same.
Chapter 37
December 8
The White House
Washington, DC
President Harman and her chief of staff sat alone in the White House on their first evening following the EMP and the nuclear warhead exchange with North Korea known in the international media as the Twelve-Hour War. Most government buildings associated with the nation’s defense, such as the Pentagon across the Potomac and the State Department located in the Harry S. Truman building, were running on newly restored power via large generators. As members of her cabinet and high-ranking officials returned to Washington, they were asked to come by the White House to meet with Chief of Staff Acton, and the president if deemed necessary.
“James, the outpouring of support from our allies in Europe, while appreciated, comes under a cloud of betrayal, in my opinion,” started the president. “Had they stood firmly by our side after the EMP, we might have considered a first strike against North Korea in retaliation. Instead, Kim Jong-un unloaded on us first, and we’re left mourning the death of millions of Americans.”
“Alani,” started Acton, who rarely referred to the president by her first name, “right now, we need to talk as old friends and longtime political allies. You have an opportunity to rise to historic levels among presidents.”
President Harman laughed. “You mean as the only president to preside over the demise of the greatest economic and political empire in history?”
“No, hear me out. It’s been said that all empires collapse eventually, and recent events confirm that America may be no exception. What lies ahead for us is arduous, but it is also an opportunity to unite the nation under your leadership. Alani, you can mold America into your vision because, in essence, the nation is starting over in many respects.”
“James, where do we start? Our infrastructure is in shambles. Society is collapsing before our eyes. We can’t get our military to enter the major cities that weren’t destroyed by the nuclear bombs, for fear of getting into a firefight with large gangs.”
“First, and this proposal is controversial, which is why I’m throwing it out there among friends, so to speak,” began Acton.
The president gestured for him to continue.
“We can only help those who want to help themselves. The best thing we can do for these cities in chaos is to contain them. The reports from our military commanders liken Detroit or Chicago to being in a war zone. Let’s cordon these metropolitan areas off so the violence doesn’t spread into the suburbs or more rural areas. Law-abiding citizens just trying to survive shouldn’t have to live in fear.”
President Harman leaned back in her chair and folded her arms, superficially giving herself a hug. “Aren’t we sentencing a lot of people within these cities to their death?”
Acton was blunt in his response. “Sadly, yes. But we both know we can’t save everyone. Why not focus on those who are willing to accept our assistance, and then also lend a hand in the recovery effort at the same time?”
She allowed an imperceptible nod of approval. “Under your proposal, at some point, the populations of major cities would thin out and, as a result, become more controllable. In the meantime, the rest of the country would sing our praises.”
The president was beginning to grasp the concept. There would be some pain and suffering in some locations, but those regions were out of control anyway.
“In theory, anyway,” he added.
“We still have the issue of logistics,” said the president. “It could take a year or more to repair our power grid. We don’t have enough operating vehicles to move supplies around, much less protect the convoys. Even in the countryside, there are reports of looters and armed thugs openly defying our military. They’re ambushing convoys and stealing supplies meant for everyone.”
“I have a proposal that will require a bit of détente, if you will,” said Acton. The president appreciated the fact that her chief advisor had considered all of these variables.
“I’m listening.”
Acton hesitated, then made his pitch. “Texas is the key.”
“Of course they are,” interrupted the president sarcastically. “I despise that woman, James. She took advantage of our nation in its moment of greatest weakness. Politically, at least for her constituents, it was a brilliantly orchestrated move. I don’t think her now former fellow Americans would agree.”
“I don’t disagree with any of that, and I’m sure Burnett is well aware of the ramifications of her blindside move. Therefore, what I’m proposing will help her out of a pickle too.”
“Go ahead.”
Acton leaned forward and lowered his voice although the doors were closed and the White House was mostly empty. “I have sources in Austin telling me Texas is beginning to experience significant food shortages. Their borders are being overwhelmed by increasingly desperate refugees, too. With the right nudge here and there, our people, meaning the CIA, could start a revolt in which her Texans grew disillusioned with their new country and President-designate Burnett in particular.”
“Don’t they have elections coming up?” she asked.
“Yes, so the timing would be perfect. What I propose is using Texas as a staging area for international relief supplies and replacement parts for the power grid. Their ports are temporarily closed due to the tsunami from the nuke off of Galveston, but dredging operations are already under way to open the channel. Their commercial airports stand empty without flights coming in or out. The military bases, which they took from us, contain more than enough personnel and operating vehicles to assist in the receipt and subsequent dispersal of supplies.”
The president shrugged and crossed her legs. After tapping her fingers on the chair’s arms, she responded, “I don’t know, James, we’ve already promised to leave them alone with respect to their secession. We’re paying them to take in refugees. What’s in it fo
r her?”
Acton chuckled. “I’ll liken it to airline travel. Have you noticed on commercial flights, all the passengers are very chatty during the flight until the flight attendants roll out the carts with drinks and snacks. Once you feed them, they quieten down.”
“Do you think Burnett will use her resources to help Americans in exchange for relief supplies to feed her own?”
“Absolutely,” started Acton in response. “Let me reach out to Austin and suggest a deal. If she says no, we’ll turn up the heat from within her borders and from those knocking at her door.”
“What does that look like?” asked the president.
Acton smiled. “We have plenty of political operatives within the state who are ready to stir up trouble for the former governor. All we have to do is give them the word. You know, the usual community activism and astroturf political rallies, which we’re so good at coordinating.”
The president was liking where this was going. No matter what she might say openly, she’d never forgive Texas for its betrayal. “You mentioned turning up the heat outside their borders as well. What do you mean by that?”
“I have it on good authority that a couple of days ago she asked for an assessment on their border security weaknesses around their very large territory. There are some areas, such as where the interstates enter Texas, where tens of thousands of people are amassed, demanding entry into Texas. Along the western borders, the crowds are sparse and so is the security. What we need to create is a dam break. I need to identify a point where the flood gates can be opened, and starving, desperate Americans can enter Texas looking for shelter, food, and medical treatment.”
President Harman scowled. “How would she react?”
“Best case is that thousands of Americans enter Texas and find a way to survive,” responded Acton.
“She’ll eventually seal the breach, right?”
“Yes, most likely through force and loss of life. Once word spreads of her tactics, she’ll face even more pressure, especially from the international community. We could reach out to our friends at the United Nations to declare a humanitarian crisis, for example.”
The president nodded. “Okay, put it in motion, but only if she refuses. If the worst-case scenario occurs, then we’ll offer to fix her problems, but then she’ll need to sweeten the pot. It will be an interesting negotiation.”
Chapter 38
December 9
The Gold Rush Byway
West of Julesburg, Colorado
“Welcome to Colorado, kids!” announced Cooper to his snoozing passengers. To make sure they were awake, he flicked the toggle switch on Red Rover and allowed the air horn a short blast. Cooper received grumbles and moans from his siblings. He understood where they were coming from. While Red Rover had proved to be reliable, steady transportation as they traveled across Wyoming and southwestern Nebraska, the front seat was tight for three adults, leaving them full of stiff limbs and cricks in necks.
Palmer appeared to come to life first, which was no surprise to Cooper. Riley had always been the last to rise in the morning. For that matter, he was always one of the first to sleep at night. The boy needed his sleep, Cooper thought to himself.
“Coop, you made great time since we looped around Sidney,” said Palmer, referring to a small town near Interstate 80 and the highway they’d traveled since leaving Wyoming.
“Yeah, traffic was light,” said Cooper with a chuckle. “I hated to wake y’all up, but it’s time for a fuel stop, and it’s also getting late in the day.”
“That’ll be the last of our stored diesel,” said Riley.
“Yeah, I know,” said Cooper. “We also have a town coming up, so I need the navigator to look at our options on how to avoid it.”
Riley pointed ahead, and Cooper began to slow the truck. The highway was about to intersect with another major road. He dropped the truck into third gear and slowed as they approached the road. As they entered the three-way intersection, just ahead of them was an interesting sight.
Palmer laughed. “Are they kidding? This is their airport?”
“It appears to be their local drag strip, too,” added Riley, pointing to a sign advertising Friday night racing.
“I guess that’s not so far-fetched,” said Cooper. “They’re both built alike. Before the apocalypse, I imagine folks from all over the world traveled to Julesburg, Colorado, and on the weekend, the local good ole boys raced their hot rods.”
They sat idling for a moment while Palmer studied the map. Cooper constantly checked the mirrors to make sure nobody was sneaking up on them.
Palmer looked up from the map for a moment and asked, “Do y’all know anything about airplanes?”
Cooper chuckled. “Ask Riley, he knows everything.”
“Screw you, Coop,” Riley shot back.
“I’m just kiddin’. Seriously, didn’t you used to talk to Dallas a lot about the planes in the military?”
“Yeah, and all I learned was that only a dang fool would jump out of a perfectly good airplane with nothing but one of those parachutes attached to their back.”
Palmer continued. “What I’m getting at is this. Maybe some of those crop-duster planes parked over there run on diesel. I mean, I don’t know, but it’s worth a try, right?”
“I agree,” said Cooper. “It beats sittin’ out here in the open. Worst case is we bunk down for the night in one of the hangars. Whayda think?”
“Let’s take a look,” mumbled Riley, who was still upset at his brother’s ribbing. He was the most sensitive of the Armstrong children, but also the first to stand up in an attack upon his family.
Ten years prior, the Environmental Protection Agency had set a goal of outlawing leaded aviation gasoline by 2020. The Federal Aviation Administration had opened up testing of alternative replacement fuels, including diesel, which was widely used in Africa, South America, and Asia.
Aircraft manufacturers like Cessna led the charge toward diesel engines being placed in their smaller aircraft. Prior to the collapse, certain rural markets, like Julesburg, were approved to test the new design.
Cooper drove around the locked gates, using Red Rover’s four-wheel drive to drive down into a drainage ditch, and up the other side. He slowly drove into the heart of the complex. Two large hangars flanked a double-wide trailer across from the dual-purpose stretch of asphalt.
As they drove toward the back of the property, they observed several fixed-wing airplanes parked off to the side. Three utility trucks were parked haphazardly in front of the buildings.
“Wow!” exclaimed Riley, pointing at the end of the runway. “Check it out.”
A single-wing Cessna had crashed short of the runway. It had apparently hit so hard that it cracked into two pieces, with the tail section thirty yards behind the nose, which had planted into a mound of dirt and turned the cockpit upside down.
“I bet the EMP killed its power,” said Cooper as he slowed to a stop. He shut off the motor. “Listen up, we need to make sure we’re alone before we start sightseeing. Grab your rifles, and let’s stick together. We’ll take our time ’cause we can’t afford any surprises.”
They spent the next thirty minutes methodically clearing each building, including storage sheds. Inside the trailer, they found folded-up cots that could be taken with them when they left. Mechanics coveralls were hung inside the closets and would help them stay warm as the colder weather moved across the Rockies. Two sets of binoculars were also found, adding to their ability to conduct surveillance on the final leg of their trip.
The best find was a fenced-in utility yard containing a fuel depot. A large cylindrical tank was marked—Aviation Diesel.
“Yeah, buddy,” exclaimed Riley, who immediately shouldered his rifle. He picked up the pace as they entered through the unlocked gate. “Let’s see if there’s any left.”
Riley grabbed the nozzle and squeezed the handle, but nothing came out.
“Dang it. Empty!” Riley quickly voic
ed his frustration.
“Hang on,” said Cooper. “The power is off, but it seems to have a hand pump up here.”
Cooper handed his rifle to Palmer, then walked between the diesel and aviation gasoline tanks. He hopped onto a platform and gripped a steel handle that was attached to the top. He began pumping.
“Try it now,” he said to Riley.
Riley squeezed the handle, and the diesel poured out.
“Awesome!” Riley shouted enthusiastically.
“It just needed the pressure built up,” said Palmer. “I wonder how many other people tried to get diesel out of that tank and didn’t try what Coop just did.”
Riley responded, “Hopefully, if they did, they left twenty or thirty gallons for us.”
Cooper jumped off the platform and rejoined the group.
“Well, now that we’ve found some diesel, even if it’s for airplanes, will it work in our truck?” asked Palmer.
“Here’s what I think we should do,” replied Cooper. “Let’s empty our cans and fill up Red Rover. We’ll refill our cans with this stuff, but I wanna plan on dumping it if we can find auto diesel. This is high-octane and may be too rich for our truck.”
“It might make him run faster,” quipped Riley as he slapped Red Rover on the hood. Of the three travelers, he’d become the fondest of the old Landy. “Heck, even if we could get him up to fifty, that would get us home faster.”
Cooper laughed and slapped his brother on the back. “I’m not sure it works like that, brother. Will you take care of the fuel? Palmer and I are gonna go through these abandoned trucks and see if there’s anything of use.”
“I’m on it,” replied Riley before adding, “Hey, keep an eye out for a toolbox. You know, wrenches, screwdrivers, etcetera. Ya never know when they’ll come in handy.”
Cooper gave a thumbs-up and led Palmer to the stalled trucks. They were typical utility vehicles with an open-bed pickup design and toolboxes mounted on the sides. Their foraging proved successful.
They found a toolkit that would please Riley, jumper cables, a portable jack stand that Red Rover did not have, a can of Fix-a-Flat, and a variety of quart-sized automobile fluids, including oil, transmission, brake, and coolant.
