by Harp, Wilson
EMP: Heading Home
By Wilson Harp
Cover art by Daniela Owergoor
SelfPubBookCovers.com/Daniela
Copyright © 2015 by Wilson Harp
All Rights Reserved
For my Denisa
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Epilogue
Chapter 1
I stamped my feet as Gary brushed the stone clean. It was a useless action as the snow was coming down steady.
"What do you think?" he asked.
What did I think? I thought she was finally at rest. She finally had full control of her mind back. I had hope she was with my father and I would see them once again when I passed on from this life. The stone read 'Abigail Hartsman - Beloved Wife and Mother'.
"It looks good, Gary," I said. "It looks real good."
"I'll get the dates carved in when I get the chance."
"I appreciate it." I looked up through the blowing snow at the thick, dark clouds. "We should probably get out of this. Looks like we're in for some serious flakes today."
Gary gathered up his tools and we started for the road. He had been busy the last several weeks. His family had come here from all the way out near Rolla about a month before. Most people who get to come to Kenton have some sort of skill the city council needs. Ike had convinced them someone who could work with stone would be a good addition to the town, so we sent word we were looking for a mason.
Gary had installed countertops for the last ten years and was good with stone. The primary reason for needing a mason was for some of the larger planned projects after the winter. His skill with marble had been brought to the attention of Luke, and soon he was part of the cemetery workers.
At first Luke wasn’t sure many people would want to pay part of their ration scrip to buy a tombstone for their loved ones, but Gary had been carving headstones from marble countertops nonstop since he set up his shop.
“I’m sure sorry about your mother, David,” he said as we approached the road. “I never got a chance to meet her, but I understand you stayed here to take care of her.”
“Thanks, Gary. I did. I miss her a lot, but I know she isn’t in pain anymore.” I pulled the coat closer to me and looked back at the cemetery.
“I know you’re planning on leaving soon. As soon as the weather lets up and I get some time, I’ll get your father’s stone done and get the dates on them.”
“I appreciate it, Gary. I’ll tell Luke to go through my dad’s tools and see if there is anything you can use. If there is, just take it. I hope to be back by summer.”
“You take care.”
He turned and walked down the road toward the house the council had arranged for him. His wife and two children were in a big room in a house with the Spencers and another family I didn’t know.
I headed in the opposite direction toward my parent’s house. My house now, I guess. Luke and Mabel had moved in right after Thanksgiving, and Mabel had been a great help in taking care of my mom during the last few weeks of her life. I knew when I left in a few hours, the Council would already have another couple, maybe even a small family, ready to move in. Whoever got the spot would be lucky. The house had been built with a fireplace and as one of the original members of the town, my mother had been entitled to one half of a cord of wood without giving up any of her ration scrip.
Of course, Mom didn’t bring in any scrip herself. I had brought in all we had from working in the fields and stacking and hauling firewood. The City Council had opposed the idea of using scrip to buy food from the common stock, but Major Davidson had insisted. It was a way to start the economy, he said, and would encourage people to work harder to keep Kenton alive.
I hated to admit it, but it worked. By the time the Army had reached us in late-September, there had already developed a group of people who did the bare minimum they needed to. They all received equal rations until the scrip system started. Then they complained and begged for extra food when they hadn’t done enough work for their scrip.
Some had tried to move out to Lester Collins’ place, but most had just started doing what they should have been doing all along: work for their food. When the first snows fell, the army brought in the first group of outsiders. Folks who had lost their homes to raiders and criminals, or who lived far enough from any secure community to feel safe.
Many in Kenton resented having outsiders come in and eat our food and live in our houses, but this was something else Major Davidson was insistent about. He struck a deal with the Council. They could tell him what skills the town needed, and he would find someone who would be an asset. In exchange, we would take in 20 more people for each expert brought in.
Even with the restriction on people coming in, Kenton had exploded in population. Housing was an issue during the winter, and ramshackle huts had sprung up where ever there was enough room. Heat was another issue, and there had been many stoves converted into wood burning fireplaces throughout the town. A lumber yard five miles outside of town had been the source for much of the town’s heat, but that wood would only last a couple of years at best. It had been secured by the Army as soon as they had discovered it was in good shape and they were in the process of trying to get the equipment up and going. A steady supply of lumber would allow more housing to be built in Kenton.
I glanced over at Missus Grants house as I neared home. Elise Grant had died in May, just weeks after the EMP had hit. But I would always think of it as her house. Two families from Poplar Bluff lived there now. Next door was the Dawson’s and their son’s family from Kansas who had made the pilgrimage. That’s what they called it and what everyone in town called those trips now. Traveling a long distance on a hope and a prayer you would find what you were looking for. Almost every pilgrimage discussed was to find family. Most people would never attempt their pilgrimage.
The snow was starting to build up on my coat as I walked. My hands were freezing even though I wore good gloves. I could see the house up ahead. It looked serene and picturesque. The smoke from the chimney tempted me with heat. I would get in, get warm, then grab my backpack and head out again.
The clouds hid the sun, but even so, I knew it was later than I intended. I picked up my pace as I realized I was out of excuses to go. If I waited until the sun was down, I wouldn’t be able to get to Shangri-la. The army would shut down the north road out of town unless you had a pass to go to the Collins compound. I wasn’t going to spend my scrip on a pass for the type of entertainment Lester provided.
I opened the door and slipped inside.
“Snow is really coming down,” Mabel said as she continued to fix dinner. “I’ll set a bowl for you so you can warm up.”
“Thanks,” I said. “But I really need to just get my gear and head out.”
“David, eat some stew,” Luke said. “Another ten minutes ain’t going to make a difference. If they close the gate up early, just tell them you’re heading to Ted’s. They know you’re planning on leaving.”
He was right. “Fine. Set me a bowl, Mabel.”
She already had. My protests went unheard. In many ways, she was like my mother.
I shucked off my jacket and slipped my boots
from my feet. I stood in front of the fireplace and warmed myself. The stew hung over the fire in an old cast iron skillet with a steel lid. We paid Keith Davidson to set our fireplace up with the steel hooks and then added hooks on my mother’s deep skillet when we finally ran out of propane for the stove.
The scent of rabbit, carrots and potatoes made my stomach growl as I looked into the fire.
“I think we’re ready,” Luke said. He reached in front of me and grabbed the handle of the skillet with an oven mitt covered hand. He unhooked the skillet from the hangers and carried the simmering stew over to the kitchen table.
I followed in his wake as I looked around the living room. I was taking it all in. Tomorrow I would be gone.
“You know,” Luke said. “You don’t have to go. You could stay right here.”
“I can’t Luke. I just have to go.”
“No one would blame you, is all.”
I felt guilty. The first time Luke had tried to talk me out of going, I was angry with him. He knew I needed to know if Lexi and Emma were alive or not. He knew I had to find out what happened to my wife and daughter. When he suggested they were probably dead, I wanted to punch him.
But then I realized my choice to go, my need to find them, hurt him to his core. He had given up on Doris sometime in the summer. She had been in Houston when it happened and the chances of her coming back were microscopic. He had resolved she was gone and had taken up with Mabel. She had lost her husband in June and needed some comfort.
“What will you do when you get there?” Mabel asked. She spooned a large helping of stew into my bowl.
“I’ll go to Oak Park and see what’s there. Even if they aren’t at the house, maybe there’ll be a message or something that will let me know where they went.”
Mabel sat a cup of cold water in front of me.
“Will you try to send us a message when you find out?” she asked.
“I will. Frank said they have telegraph communications almost as far north as Springfield. Hopefully they can push the lines even further while I am making my way north.”
“I thought that military base was north of Springfield,” Luke said.
“No, the air base is right across from Saint Louis. Springfield is another ninety miles north.”
“That’s going to be a couple of weeks of travel. And that assumes there won’t be no weather and the roads are safe.”
“I know, Luke. But if I don’t go now, before you know it I’ll feel like I have to stay to help with the planting. If I do go now, maybe I’ll be back before the first spring harvest.”
Luke grunted.
“I do wish you would consider what this’ll do to Anne,” Mabel said. She finally had finished getting me and Luke situated and sat at the table.
“Anne agrees with me.”
“She only agrees with you because you are stubborn and she knows she won’t win.” Luke said.
“You’re probably right. But this is what I have to do.”
Luke shook his head. “Did I ever tell you about the time me and your dad found that wallet in Memphis?”
I shook my head. “No. What wallet?”
“Well we had gone down to Memphis to buy a car when we decided to have some lunch and catch some music at a club. We sat down and he reached behind him and pulled up a wallet. We looked in it for some ID, but there wasn’t none. There was, however, over twelve hundred dollars in cash. Now in 1974, that was a lot of money. A brand new car was maybe twice that much. I wanted to just keep it since there was no way to know whose it was. Pat, though, he felt like we should try to find the owner. So he went over to the bartender and was telling him about it when some guy comes in and snatches it from his hand. He yelled at your dad and called him a thief. The man then stormed out.
“Pat comes back over to the table and sits down. When the waitress comes to take our order, she says the manager of the club saw what happened and was going to give us a free meal. Small consolation in my eyes, but Pat was happy. At the end of the meal, he drops two dollars for a tip. When I asked him why, he said the waitress did her job and deserved to get paid.”
“That sounds like my dad,” I said.
“That sounds like you, David.” Luke took a bite of stew and looked at me as he chewed. “That story could have been you giving back the wallet and no one around here would have doubted it. Your dad would be doing exactly what you are planning. He wouldn’t have agonized over it. He would have just done it because it was the right thing to do. You hold onto that. Even when no one else thinks it is worth it.”
The rest of the meal was eaten in silence. I never had thought about what I had really learned from my dad. He had taught me typical things as I had grown, but it was his belief in doing what was right which had burned its way into my bones. If I felt something was right, I would not compromise.
“Thank you, Mabel,” I said as I scraped the last of the stew from my bowl. “That was delicious as always.”
“You best get going, David,” Luke said. “You packed up?”
“Yes. Packed up before I went to see the stone.”
“I guess this is it then. I’ll let the folks they put in here know you’re going to be back in the spring. I’ll make sure they don’t mess too much up.”
I smiled at Luke. “Thanks. It’s good to know the house will be in good hands.”
I pushed back from the table and went toward the bedroom. My backpack was sitting by the bed, carefully packed with everything I thought I might need on the trip. On top was the pistol my dad had always kept in the nightstand on his side of the bed. I undid my belt and slipped the holster in place. I made sure the safety was on and slipped the weapon into the holster. Two extra magazines and two full boxes of ammo were in re-sealable plastic bags in the bottom of my pack.
“I sure hope you don’t need that,” Luke said as he watched me get ready.
“Me too, but better to have it and not need it—“
“—than to need it and not have it,” he finished.
I smiled at him and hoisted the pack onto my shoulder.
“You can manage the weight twelve hours a day?”
I shrugged at the weight. “Not six months ago, but it’s surprising how much stronger I am now.”
Luke smiled and left me to finish getting ready. When Luke and Mabel had moved into our house, they had taken my room. I had moved into my parents’ room and slept on a cot. Even the last two weeks with mom gone, I had slept on the cot.
I looked around the familiar room and sighed. We are never promised another day and when we go on a journey, there is always the chance we’ll never return. But now it is more a likelihood than a simple chance. I grew up in this house, and this room my parents slept in for decades had always been a touchstone for me. A place I could always see in my mind and come back to when I needed to be safe.
I left the last place of security I felt in the entire world and walked into the living room.
“Be careful, David,” Mabel said as I reached for the front door.
“I will,” I answered. “I’ll try to be back before the spring is over.”
Luke just nodded at me as I looked back at him sitting at my folks’ kitchen table.
I opened the door and stepped out into the snow.
The door shut behind me and the low light from the fireplace followed me to peek out the window. It illuminated a small area in front of the house, but beyond seemed the dark unknown. As I stepped out of the radius of the light, my eyes adjusted and I could see the night was indeed dark, but not as much as the glow of light around the windows of the houses warned me. The thick blanket of clouds did not allow any starlight to penetrate to the earth, but the thick flakes of snow caught and reflected the pale light from any source it could.
As I made my way along the road, I could smell and hear the warm houses on my right. The crackle and pops of wood as it burned created the sound of civilization. Man tamed fire to work for him, and although a dangerous and caprici
ous servant, the flames were needed to stay alive.
The older houses stood firm and solid against the wind and snow, while the huts groaned and creaked as the wind whistled through them. Most of the folk around here would make sure any children would be taken in to keep warm on nights like this, but not all folk.
The snow had drifted up to a foot deep in places as I entered the town proper. The trudge from home had chilled me, but my boots still felt warm and dry. I just hoped the road up to Ted’s place wasn’t too slippery. The worst thing that could happen would be to fall and lay injured along the road. The idea of turning back and spending another night at home poked at me from the back of my brain, but I had determined this was the day I was leaving.
The town square was nearly empty as I crossed through. A few small groups of men were huddled around small fires. Probably catching up on gossip or planning a hunting trip. Some of the hunters would be looking for game in the woods, while others would be searching for abandoned homes and businesses looking for supplies. Anyone doing scavenging was supposed to get prior approval from Major Davidson and report everything they found to the town council, but most assumed those men who risked going into uncontrolled areas did so for more than some extra scrip when they found something worth bringing back.
The army checkpoint heading out of town was lit by one of the few electric lights the town had. A small generator kept the single bulb burning on nights like this as a signal for any military patrols which might still be out. It was a symbol of a controlled town and a source of pride for the town council. Kenton was only one of ten towns considered safe by Colonel Johnston and his command based out of Cape Girardeau.
The light illuminated the snow as it fell in thick sheets. It also revealed two horses at the guard house. Since there were only six horses in all of Kenton, it was pretty easy to see they were Bonnie and Clyde. Anne’s horses.
I sighed as I continued on to the guard house. Anne had always said she was going with me when I headed to Chicago, and I had always just ignored her comments as something I would deal with later. But as Mom slipped further and further into the grip of Alzheimer’s, Anne’s statements made me nervous and angry.
