by Alex Gunwick
“I checked your fuel. It’s at about half a tank. I wish I could spare some, but gas may become too hard a commodity to come by.” Bob rubbed the back of his neck. “She’ll probably get about fifteen miles per gallon on the highway, maybe ten or eleven on the streets. I’m guessing she’s got about fifteen gallons in a thirty-gallon tank. So you’re looking at maybe two hundred miles or so before you need to fill up.”
“I’m going to try to top her off as soon as I can find a gas station,” Luke said.
“There are a couple of stations up on Highway 33. You might have some luck there,” Mary said.
“All right. Well, I guess I’ll be on my way,” Luke said.
After Mary gave him a hug and Bob shook his hand, Luke climbed into the truck. He fired her up and turned down the dirt road into the orchard. He watched the farmer and his wife wave at him until they became distant specks in the rearview mirror.
With any luck, Bob’s makeshift early warning system would give them a leg up on any intruders. They were good people and they deserved to be safe. But in an unsafe world, a few guns and some flares might not be enough to stop criminals from taking everything they had.
12
Liz woke with a start. She grabbed the shotgun and braced it against her shoulder while searching for an imminent threat. A single lamp glowed in the living room. Kyle lay on the couch, sleeping. Outside, the orange light of sunrise irradiated scattered clouds across a gray-blue sky.
Justice trotted in from the doggie door in the kitchen. His dew-drenched paws left a trail on the tile. He sat at her feet and cocked his head to one side as if asking about breakfast.
She stood and checked the peephole. The front yard was empty. No one appeared to be walking around outside, so she abandoned her post to feed Justice. After pouring a cup of kibble into his bowl, she folded up the rest of the fifty-pound sack of food and dragged it into the garage. They’d packed the truck so well that she couldn’t find space for the dog food.
Fortunately, they had at least one hundred pounds of kibble stored at the cabin. When they’d planned for a possible Bug Out scenario, they’d included dog food. They’d also stockpiled medicine for fleas and ticks. Justice was part of their family. She’d never consider leaving him behind.
“Are we leaving?” Kyle walked into the garage while rubbing his eyes. His rifle dangled from a strap over his shoulder.
“Yes. I hope the safety’s on.”
“Yes, Mom.” He rolled his eyes.
“Last chance to pack anything else,” she said. “We’ll leave in ten minutes.”
“Okay.”
“Make sure you packed a jacket and extra shoes…and bring your photo album.”
Upstairs, she pulled her wedding album out of the closet. She flipped open the first page to a photo of her and Luke. They’d planned on celebrating their twentieth anniversary in Fiji next year. Somehow she had a feeling that wouldn’t be happening. At this point, she’d be grateful to celebrate it anywhere as long as Luke was still alive. He had to be alive. She couldn’t imagine life without him.
They didn’t have much room left in the truck, but she found a place to stuff the album. Kyle jammed his album full of pictures into the back seat.
“Ready to head out?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
The doorbell rang.
“Now what?” she asked.
She went inside and cautiously approached the front door. She peeked out to find Jennifer standing on the doorstep, alone.
She opened the door.
“Did Kent come to your house last night?” Jennifer asked.
“Yes. Come in so I can close the door.”
“He came over around ten last night and was screaming his fool head off. Frank told him to go away.”
“Did you find out what he wanted?” Liz asked.
“No. And honestly, I don’t care. He’s nuts. I don’t know why you talk to him anymore.”
“Did you hear the gunshots last night?”
“Yeah. I called Tiffany Schuller. Her house backs up to ours. Her neighbor Donald was shot last night. Apparently someone was prowling around and Don tried to call 911. But the phones are still down. Isn’t that weird that they’re still down? Shouldn’t they be up by now?” Jennifer asked.
“This whole thing is crazy,” Liz said. “Is Don okay?”
“No. He’s dead.”
“What?”
“It looks like someone robbed him last night. The house was ransacked. They stole his laptop, TV, all of his food. They even took his wedding ring.”
“Where’s his wife?” Liz asked.
“They tied her up in the garage. She’s still alive.”
“Did they…”
“They only tied her up, nothing else. Thank God,” Jennifer said. “Ted Olson heard the shots. The robbers fled through the fence on the side yard. He almost caught one of them, but they all got away.”
“Did the police ever show up?” Liz asked.
“No. Someone even drove over to the sheriff’s station. They said they’d add the break-in to the list of crimes they’re following up on today. Can you believe that? They’re too damn busy to investigate robbery and murder.”
“The system is falling apart.”
“It’s only been three days,” Jennifer said, exasperated.
“It doesn’t take much. Look at the LA riots in ‘92. Cincinnati, 2001. Katrina. Berkeley.”
“Berkeley?”
“They riot every time someone sneezes in the wrong direction.”
“They have a history of protesting.”
“There’s a difference between peaceful protests and rioting,” Liz said.
“True.”
“My point is, we’ve seen cities fall apart within hours, not days. We have almost no information about what’s going on. No internet connection. No phones. People are panicking and it’s only going to get worse.”
“What can we do to protect ourselves?” Jennifer asked with a frown.
“Stay inside and lock your doors. I don’t know what else to tell you,” Liz said.
For OPSEC, she wasn’t going to tell anyone she and Kyle were leaving, and certainly not where they were headed. In a WROL situation, secrecy could mean the difference between living and dying.
“Have you heard anything from Luke?”
“Nothing.”
“I’ll pray for his safe return,” Jennifer said. “I should be getting home.”
“Thank you for the prayers. Stay safe.”
After Jennifer left, Liz locked the door and deadbolt. She walked into the kitchen and used the magnetic letters on the fridge to spell BOLK. She jumbled the rest of the letters around it to make it look random. Anyone looking at it wouldn’t recognize the code, but if Luke or Sierra came home, they’d know she’d left for the cabin with Kyle.
She took one last look around before heading into the garage. Her heart clenched. They were leaving so much behind to head down an unknown road. She hoped everything would still be there when they came back. If they came back.
Kyle opened the passenger door. Justice hopped in and scrambled into the small space they’d left for him in the back seat. As she walked around to the driver’s side, she attached a concealed carry holster to her belt. She slipped her HK P2000 into it. Maybe they’d make it to their Bug Out Location without a problem, but she wasn’t taking any chances.
She climbed into the truck and hit the garage door opener. As the door slowly raised, shouts coming from a crowd of people caught her attention. She quickly double-tapped the opener to close the door.
“What’s going on out there?” Kyle asked.
“I don’t know, but we can’t leave right now. Not until the crowd is gone.”
“Should we go check it out?”
“No. We’ll stay here until it’s safe to leave. It might take an hour or so, but I don’t want an audience when we leave.”
Almost twelve hours later, the sun hung low on the western hori
zon. Liz peered out from behind the curtains in the living room. Several fights had broken out throughout the day. She’d cracked a window to listen to the men argue about whether or not they should pool their resources. The “discussion,” if you could call it that, had unraveled and a fistfight had broken out.
Only a few stragglers remained in the cul-de-sac. Everyone else had headed in for the night. Sunset was less than an hour away. Leaving now would put them outside after curfew, but she didn’t have a choice. If they didn’t leave now, they might not have another chance.
Sierra’s feet burned and her back ached from carrying the backpack. They’d been walking for two hours when they reached the intersection of Sand Canyon and Irvine Center Drive. Derek held up his hand. She stopped.
“Movement. Ten yards up, left side,” he whispered.
She peered into the darkness. A row of dense bushes lined the road, sectioning off an industrial area. Pockets of lightless black holes hid a multitude of places people could be hiding. Although they’d encountered a handful of people in the industrial area, none of them had been threats. They were just ordinary people trying to get home.
“Let’s check it out,” he whispered.
“Maybe we should just cross the road.”
“If it’s a threat, we need to neutralize it.”
Neutralize it? She didn’t want to know what that would entail. Killing someone who was trying to kill you was one thing, but hunting down a perceived threat was another. She stayed behind him as he stalked forward.
Up ahead, the bushes rustled. A blur of black fur burst out of the leaves. The dog barked and snarled in their direction. She backed up, ready to run if necessary.
“Don’t move,” Derek said. “If you run, he’ll chase you.”
She froze. When she was ten years old, the neighbor’s dog had escaped the yard and had attacked her on her front lawn. The scars on her arms had faded over time, but the memory of the dog’s vicious teeth hadn’t.
Derek pulled his gun out of a holster at his waist. Her eyes flashed between the gun and the dog. Was he going to kill it? The dog hadn’t even attacked them.
As they inched closer, the dog bared his teeth. He snarled and snapped.
“Go on,” Derek yelled. “Get lost, mutt.”
“He’s coming toward us.”
“I see.”
When he raised his gun, she grabbed his arm.
“Wait! Don’t kill him.”
“Let go of my arm,” he growled.
She released it. He pointed the gun toward the dog, but angled it toward the sky. He fired a shot. The dog raced into the bushes. Its claws scratched against the asphalt as it took off through the parking lot on the other side of the hedge.
“I wasn’t going to kill him,” Derek said as he holstered the gun. “But don’t you dare grab me again like that. Are we clear?”
“Yes, sir,” she said warily.
“We’re almost at the Great Park. Let’s rest there.”
He turned his back on her and took quick strides down the sidewalk. She had to hurry to keep up with him. They didn’t speak until they passed under the 5 freeway.
“We need to scope it out first,” he said. “I doubt anyone’s moved out of their homes yet. The power’s still on. But I don’t want to take any chances.”
“Sure.” Still shaken by the incident with the dog, she wasn’t about to argue with him.
When his hand dropped to his side, she flinched. He’d saved her from the men who’d attacked her, but why get involved? He could have kept going. And he hadn’t shot the dog, so he couldn’t be too bad.
“The buildings look unoccupied,” he said. “But let’s get behind them and stay out of sight of the road.”
She followed him. They passed several vacant buildings before reaching the information center building. It was the farthest building back from the road, not counting the unfinished soccer stadium.
“Why aren’t we going in there?” She pointed at the stadium.
“Not enough escape routes.”
“Yeah, but if no one knows we’re there, we won’t have anyone to escape from.”
“It’s not safe enough.” He dropped his backpack against the wall and sat down. “We’ll rest for twenty minutes then start walking again.”
She set her backpack on the ground next to his and sat on the concrete beside him. After fishing out a bottle of water, she took several long swigs. She bathed her parched tongue in the liquid before swallowing.
“I’ve got a couple of extra MREs,” he said. “You hungry?”
“What’s an MRE?”
“Meal, Ready-to-Eat.” He opened an olive-green vacuum-sealed pouch and grabbed a metal spork from his pack. “This one’s chili mac.”
“Seriously?”
“It’s good stuff.” He forked a spoonful into his mouth. “Want some?”
“No thanks.”
“Suit yourself.”
“Why are you helping me?” she blurted.
“Leave no man behind,” he said.
“You don’t even know me.”
“Doesn’t matter. Your dad’s ex-military, so you’re practically family. If you were my daughter, I would hope someone else would do the same for her.”
“Do you have any kids?” she asked as she dug a granola bar out of her pack.
“Nope. Never had the pleasure.”
“It’s not too late. You’re not that old.”
“Thanks.” He smirked.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” she stammered.
“It’s okay. How about you, any kids?”
“No. I’m not old enough,” she said.
“You have a narrow definition for when a person should have children,” he said, amusement in his tone.
“I’m still in college. My mom made me swear not to get married until I have my degree.”
“Smart mom.”
“Have you ever been married?” she asked.
“Once.”
When he didn’t elaborate, her curiosity got the best of her.
“What happened?”
“Filed divorce papers when I was in Afghanistan.”
“That’s a shitty thing to do.”
“Maybe. But she said she was sick of sitting at home worrying about whether or not officers would show up at her door with their hats in their hands.”
“I guess I can understand that,” she said. “But I always thought marriage was for life.”
“It should be. People give up on it too easily these days. When I said ‘until death do us part,’ I meant it. But that was years ago. I’ve moved on.”
She finished her granola bar in silence. Her boyfriend of three years had broken up with her right before prom her senior year of high school. The pain had nearly killed her and they weren’t even married. She couldn’t imagine what it would do to someone who had committed their life to the other person. She planned on waiting for the right man to come along. If she found the right person, she’d never have to get divorced.
“We should get back on the road soon,” he said. “We’ve got another thirty minutes to an hour before we get to the toll road.”
“Sounds good.”
When she stood, her swollen feet throbbed in protest. She’d tried to stick to her cardio routine since starting college, but studying seemed to get in the way more often than not. Now she wished she’d kept up her morning jogging routine. Packing on the first ten pounds of the “freshman fifteen” didn’t help either.
When all this was over, she vowed to get back into running and eating healthy. Her unhealthy obsession with macaroni and cheese in a cup would have to end too.
As she pulled on her backpack, Derek retrieved a small flashlight from his pack.
“I don’t want to have to use it, but I’ve got it handy just in case.”
“I probably have one in my bag too. Should I get it out?” she asked.
“No. We should be fine for now. The sun’s down, but the streetlights ar
e still on. We’ll reassess when we make it to the hills.”
As they headed back toward Sand Canyon Avenue, distant gunfire set her on edge. They were safe for now, but for how long?
13
Luke drove white-knuckled through the intersection of Badger Flat Road and West Pacheco Boulevard. Red flames and black smoke darkened the sky over the shopping center. The Walmart parking lot writhed with looters. Men with bandanas over their noses and mouths shot pistols into the air. Women with overflowing shopping carts elbowed their way through the bands of marauders. Absolute chaos spilled across the street to the Target shopping center.
As Luke continued through the melee, a woman ran into the street directly in front of his car. She held her hands up and hollered at him to stop. He swerved around her, narrowly missing a man with a shotgun. He sped past the group. Trying to get gas in a town overrun with criminals would be impossible. He had enough gas to get to Buttonwillow, provided the 5 was open. If the highway patrol hadn’t cleaned up the tanker truck spill, he’d be stuck.
He turned right on Pioneer Road and backtracked to Highway 33. As he crossed the California Aqueduct, he checked the water level. The recent droughts had decimated California’s water supply, but heavy rains earlier in the year had helped a bit. It looked half-full. Not bad. Worst case scenario, he could stop and refill his bottles later.
Two highway patrol cars blocked the northbound ramp of the 5 to Sacramento. They stood with their hands resting on their duty belts. They eyed him as he approached. He continued along the road onto the overpass toward the southbound ramp and another set of squad cars. He pulled to a stop a few feet from them.
The officers approached, one on each side of the car. Luke rolled down the driver’s side window.
“Road closed?” Luke asked.
“Yes.” The officer’s gold plate name badge read Franklin.
“I heard there was a tanker truck spill a few days back,” Luke said.
“That was cleaned up the same day.”
