by James Hunt
“It’s two hundred and fifty miles from here to Phoenix, which means it would be about an eight-day hike. That’s too long for the supplies that we have, so we’ll need to gather up some more food before we take off,” Jim said.
“Gather food from where? It’s not like they have a Wal-Mart on the base.”
“They’re not too concerned about the security around the rations, which is a mistake for them, but good for us.”
“So wait, let me get this straight. You want to steal food from the military, who are armed with some very big guns, without them catching us, and then take a camping trip to Phoenix?”
Jim gathered up the map and folded it back into his pocket. “If things are as bad as I think they are out there, then getting away from this place as fast as we can is important.”
“No. No, Jim. You don’t have any proof. You don’t have access to the same information that the Army, Navy, or CIA does. You want us to leave the first safe spot we’ve run into since we left San Diego on the basis of some crazy-ass theory?”
“Why do you want to stay here? Because the last military base we were at was so safe? I need to get to Phoenix and make sure my sister and niece are all right. If you’re too chicken-shit to come with me, then you can stay here.”
Jim shoved Coyle hard in the chest and sent him flying backwards. Coyle shoved him back.
“Fuck you, man!” Coyle screamed and stormed off.
A whirl of dust circled Jim as a hot breeze brushed his face and body. He wasn’t sure if his neck felt hot because of the altercation with Coyle or the sun. He was getting to Phoenix one way or another; with or without Coyle.
Chapter 5 – Phoenix on My Mind
Jim was right about the lack of security on the food supplies. He didn’t even have to be coy about walking up with his bag. There was only one security guard stationed at the front, and right after lunch he was able to slip in the back and grab enough rations to get him through the trip. He didn’t skimp on grabbing the good stuff either. There were thousands of dollars of MREs stacked up in crates. With these and the supplies he already had in his pack, he would be able to last for about two weeks if he had to. He wanted to take more, but his bag was filled to the brim.
He thought about checking the ammunition depot but didn’t want to press his luck. When he made it back to the sleeping quarters, he saw that Coyle had moved from the cot next to him over to the corner by himself. Jim rolled his eyes and slid the pack back under his cot. The only other thing he really wanted to get back was his guns.
Jim let Tigs out of her cage one more time onto the sand to take care of business, and then after she ran around for a bit, Jim put her back into her cage and set off to find out where they stashed his guns. He scouted the base as best he could, but the soldiers were keeping a close eye on him the further away he got from the civilian quarters, no doubt on the orders of Haggard, so Jim didn’t venture too far.
After a few hours of scouring the base, Jim decided it was a lost cause and headed back to the tent. The sun was getting low, and he wanted to be sure to gather his stuff before it got dark.
As he walked in and sat down, Coyle snuck up behind him and slumped onto the cot, causing it to sink a little closer to the floor. Coyle placed a poorly wrapped blanket onto his lap, and Jim heard the familiar metal clank of his AR-15 against the pistols. He looked at Coyle with astonishment, but Coyle kept his eyes forward.
“I couldn’t get the shotgun, but the rifle and both pistols are there.”
Jim’s mouth hung open as he tried to grasp what had just happened. Coyle looked at him once the silence had gone on for a bit. “What? You’re not the only one who’s good at stuff.”
“I didn’t mean to go off on you like that,” Jim said.
“I deserved it,” he replied. “All you’ve done for me is save my ass, and all I’ve done is be a pain in yours. If you’re going to Phoenix, then so am I. Besides,” Coyle glanced around and saw the nurse he had been flirting with the day before smiling and waving at him, “I think the nurse is getting a little too clingy.”
The two of them decided that they’d make a run for it tomorrow night after they scoped out the security detail to see when the best time would be to sneak out.
Night fell, and Jim and Coyle snuck out of the tents and checked the perimeters. There were Humvee patrols, sniper towers, and armed personnel at every gate with some patrolling in between.
They were both caught by an MP and escorted back to their tent, quite roughly, after they explained in unison that they were going to the bathroom and having a smoke at the same time.
After they were escorted back to their cots and the guard unit had been doubled at the sleeping quarters, Coyle poked his head out from under the sheets. “I don’t think we’re getting out of here anytime soon.”
Jim didn’t respond. He stared into the darkness of the sagging ceiling. The increased security wasn’t what stirred him in his sleep that night. It was the thought of where his sister was. Were they safe? Were they still in Phoenix? The worry in his stomach made for a restless night.
***
The night air was chilly, and at first Jim just thought it was Coyle’s snoring that had awoken him, but then he heard shouts and a commotion in the tent. Some kids started crying, and the murmured whispers of panic began to grow louder. Jim shot up and rushed to the front of the tent where a group of people had crowded.
“What’s going on out there?”
“Are we under attack?”
“Will we be safe?”
The soldiers at the tent entrance were doing their best to calm their fears, but with the tension in the air, they didn’t think it would take long for the rush of panic to finally break through. Jim’s eyes scanned the outside of the tent, and there was a lot of movement going on. Small units of men were rushing towards the exit gate.
Soldiers were packing up supplies in large trucks and stripping the base of anything essential or confidential. A young, female petty officer first class came running up towards the sergeant who was trying to calm the crowd.
“Sergeant,” she said.
The sergeant turned around and was handed a piece of paper. He folded it up and handed it back to the petty officer. He raised his voice so the whole tent could hear him. “Ladies and gentlemen, please gather up any personal belongings and be prepared to leave in five minutes. There will be trucks coming along escorting you further east at a new temporary location.”
Murmurs circled the crowd. People started running towards their cots and grabbing what little possessions they had with them.
“What’s causing the evacuation?” Jim asked.
“Sir, please just gather your things and be ready to move.”
“Sergeant, please, just tell me what’s going on?”
“You military?”
“Used to be.”
The sergeant looked him over and then leaned in so he couldn’t be heard by the other civilians standing around. “We got reports that the radiation from the blasts is heading this way. We’re evacuating further east to avoid the fallout.”
The sergeant marched off and Jim headed back over to Coyle, who already had the blankets with the guns and their packs stacked next to Tigs’ cage.
“What’d he say?” Coyle asked.
“Radiation’s coming from the blasts. They’re moving us further east to avoid the contamination.”
“Do you know how far east they’re taking us? Are we going to Phoenix?” Coyle asked.
Jim shrugged. He didn’t get that answer from the sergeant. It would make sense for them to head to Phoenix. It was far enough east and just north enough that the winds would probably miss the city and blow down over into Mexico or Texas.
Jim gathered the rest of his gear along with Tigs’ cage, who was meowing incessantly, and headed over towards the entrance with the others to wait for their transport. The commotion outside the tent had turned into a full evacuation of the base. Tanks, armored cars, and soldiers coordinated to
wards the exit. Three large transport trucks pulled up in front of them and six soldiers jumped down.
The first man was a heavyset fellow with a bushy mustache whose uniform hugged a little too tightly to his body.
“Okay, we need twenty to a truck,” said the mustached soldier.
Jim and Coyle ended up in the third truck and were sandwiched between the young couple they met yesterday and one very, very upset baby who Coyle had the privilege of sitting next to. The base faded into the night behind them as they journeyed onto the road ahead.
“Okay, everyone. We’re heading to Phoenix and we’ll be setting you up in a secure location until the situation has been contained. Once we reach Phoenix, you’ll be free to head off wherever you need to,” said the mustached soldier.
The baby started to scream again and Coyle leaned into Jim, speaking slightly above a whisper. “Are we there yet?”
***
Jim had drifted off during the ride but jolted awake just as the sun rose. He wasn’t sure how long he had been sleeping, but he rubbed his eyes and looked over at Coyle, who was slumped on his shoulder. The soldier riding with them was awake in the back, and Jim caught his attention.
“How close are we to Phoenix?” Jim asked.
The soldier glanced up with dark circles under his eyes. “We’re about forty-five minutes out.”
The trucks rumbled along the highway as the sun peaked further from the desert horizon. The orange glow started to shine through the canvas cracks of the truck, and its inhabitants began to stir.
Jim felt the outline of the pistol in his hands underneath the blanket. All of the events of the past few days began to replay in his mind. The attacks at the base, getting out of San Diego, the gas station, the road block, and now this. He was sitting in a military truck outrunning the fallout from the radiation blasts he had watched go off.
The exhaustion from everything that had happened was starting to take its toll on him. Jim rubbed his hands over his face and leaned back against the taut canvas behind him. There wasn’t anything on the road besides them. No cars, no people, no animals, nothing. It was eerily quiet on the road, and Jim’s eye caught a sign. He only saw it for a moment before it was out of view, but the road sign said “I-10 West.”
It took a minute for Jim to register what he’d just seen. Then he’d realized what was happening. They did go north, but they hadn’t gone east. They were heading back to California towards Los Angeles. Phoenix was in the other direction.
Jim elbowed Coyle, who jumped with a pissed look on his face. Jim pulled him in close.
“They’re not taking us to Phoenix,” Jim said.
“What?” Coyle asked.
Jim gritted through his teeth as his tone became angrier.
“They’re…not…taking…us…to…Phoenix.”
Jim jumped out of his seat and headed toward the soldier in the back. He knelt down in front of him and looked him in the eye with a calm, stern undertone in his voice.
“Where are we going?” Jim asked.
A few of the passengers next to the soldier began to stir awake. The soldier looked at Jim for a moment, not sure what to do, but then said, “Sir, please go back to your seat. We’ll be arriving shortly.”
“Yes, but where are we arriving?” Jim asked. “Because it sure as hell isn’t Phoenix.”
The gentlemen closest to them started to lean in with a worried look on his face. “What’s going on?” he interrupted.
Jim kept his eyes on the soldier. “Why aren’t we going to Phoenix? What’s happened?”
The soldier placed his hand on his rifle. “Sir, I must insist you go back to your seat.”
Jim glanced at the weapon and then back up at the soldier who had risen up out of his seat. Jim’s thoughts went back to the pistol under his blanket. Finally, Jim went and sat down.
The soldier kept his eyes on Jim for a while before returning them to the back of the truck and watching the road disappear behind them.
“Well? What’s going on?” Coyle asked.
“I don’t know. He wouldn’t give me anything.”
“Do you think something happened to Phoenix?”
“It could be anything. Phoenix might be compromised or they could have received new orders. They’re the ones controlling the information, so we’re at their mercy right now.”
Jim felt the outline of the pistol in his blanket more thoroughly. He kept it close to him as the truck rumbled westbound. The truck finally slowed down and came to a stop. Jim could hear voices shouting at one another outside the truck, then the truck crawled forward. There was more shouting, and then they stopped. Jim leaned his ear to the thin canvas to listen to what the people outside were saying.
“Business?” a man shouted above the diesel engine.
“Dropping off some refugees that were on the I-8 attack,” replied the driver.
“Alright, move it on through.”
The truck jumped forward, and Jim watched a draw gate lower from a guard station behind them. Through the dust the truck was kicking up, Jim saw soldiers with rifles and a machine gun nest perched on the sides of the road.
After a bumpy ride down the dirt road, the truck came to a halt. The soldier in the truck didn’t take his eyes off Jim the entire time they went down the road. Another group of soldiers came up behind them and lowered the truck gate, and everyone piled out the back.
When Jim got out, what he saw made his jaw drop. Thousands of tents were spread across the desert with almost as many refugees wandering around. There were medical, water, food, and sanitary stations set up sporadically throughout the camp. Soldiers patrolled through for security with automatic rifles at their shoulders as tanks roamed the perimeter with guard towers high above the ground.
Coyle was pushed into Jim as the soldiers who helped them out of the truck shepherded them into a tent with the word “Registration” labeled across the front. Coyle looked around.
“What is this place? Where the hell are we?” Coyle asked.
“We’re definitely not in Phoenix. We’re somewhere on I-10 Westbound, most likely by Joshua Tree National Park, judging by our drive time and the rock formations.”
“You know, sometimes your Eagle Scout shit comes off as condescending.”
A heavyset woman at the registration table called for the next person to move forward, and Jim stepped up.
“Name?” she asked.
“Jim Farr.”
She jotted down his name on a clipboard. “And your city and state of residence?”
“San Diego, California,” Jim said.
He leaned in closer as the woman continued writing his info, “Hey, do you have a Samantha Kearny that checked in here?”
Without looking up, she told him, “We have an updated list of folks that have come through here posted on the main board behind this tent every hour. You can check for your friend’s name there.”
Coyle stepped up to the lady who again kept her eyes on her clipboard. “Name?”
“Coyle Wain.”
“Residency?”
“Bumfuck Egypt?”
The woman slowly raised her head, and Coyle looked at her innocently.
“Oh, you mean my previous residency. I thought you were talking about my current location.” Coyle said.
Around back, Jim ran his finger down the list of refugees that had arrived. The name wasn’t on the list. Jim’s heart sank to his stomach. He sat there and wondered what had happened in Phoenix. Why had they brought him here? Was Phoenix even there anymore?
“Hey, so, be careful about cracking jokes. The people around here don’t appreciate good humor. I almost got thrown in tent jail,” Coyle said, catching up with Jim.
Coyle saw the worry in Jim’s eyes for the first time since they’d left San Diego. “Jim, what’s up?”
The dust, stress, and long days soaked through Jim’s face. “She’s not here.”
A woman who was carrying some blankets noticed Jim and Coyle out of
the corner of her eye and did a double take. She stepped closer to get a better look and then shouted his name.
Jim spun around and squinted into the glaring sun shining at him. He saw the outline of the woman moving towards him but couldn’t quite make her out.
“Jim!” she shouted, even louder the second time.
Samantha broke into a sprint and when she reached him, she threw her arms around him. She buried her face in his dirty shirt and he held her tight.
“We weren’t sure whether you made it out or not,” Samantha said with breathless relief.
