EMP: Heading Home

by Harp, Wilson

  “Welcome,” a man said as he came out of a tent near the checkpoint. “Just need to get your names and destination, if you don’t mind.”

  The bearded man wore a sergeant’s uniform and his voice carried the sure authority of a man who was used to giving commands and having them followed.

  “Ted Riggins,” said Ted. “This here is Kenny Dawson, David Hartsman, and Anne Franklin. We are out of Kenton, heading across the river on a pilgrimage.”

  The sergeant wrote down our details. I noticed his name badge said Morio. “Where will your pilgrimage take you?” Sergeant Morio asked.

  “North,” Ted said.

  The sergeant looked up at him and then shifted his eyes quickly to each of us. He locked his eyes back on me.

  “David, is it? Where are you heading? This is family I assume.”

  “Oak Park, near Chicago.”

  The sergeant nodded as he jotted down the last information.

  “Let me get you a couple of tents and we’ll find you something to eat. You have a long road ahead of you.”

  Chapter 5

  I woke the next morning to the smell of coffee. I worked my way out of the tent and found Ted and Kenny already at a table eating breakfast. Sergeant Morio had questioned us for hours after he settled us in. Ted was reluctant to say too much, but the bribe of a solid breakfast of bacon and eggs was too much temptation for even Ted to refuse.

  Anne was in line at the mess and I went over and joined her. She let two of the soldiers cut in front of her so she could talk to me.

  “About time you got up,” she said. “Kenny was out of your tent before day break.”

  “Well, he snores and it kept me up last night.”

  Anne laughed. “You both snore, it was like a duet.”

  We gathered our breakfast from the army cooks and joined Ted and Kenny.

  “Morio confirmed it,” Ted said as he looked at his empty plate. “Interstate 57 is out. Bridge went when a tug drifted and plowed into it with a full load.”

  I nodded as I tried to focus on the taste of breakfast. The eggs had come from a powder, I was sure, but the bacon was fresh and crisp.

  “So we take the bridge at Cape,” Kenny said.

  “Is there a bridge south of 57?” Anne asked. “I remember taking one which hopped from Missouri to Illinois to Kentucky.”

  “That’s gone too,” Ted answered. “Same debris as took the 57 bridge.”

  The question we had always had was where we would cross the Mississippi. Frank had told us the bridge at Cape Girardeau was the only one standing from Saint Louis to Memphis. We had hoped he was wrong, because he described Cape in such bad terms.

  “The army still controls the bridge?” I said.

  “As far as Morio can tell. I think if they can hold it a few more months, they might be able to clean up the area.”

  “How far is it from the bridge to the air base?” Kenny asked. “About a hundred and twenty?”

  “There about,” Ted said. He pulled the map case out of his pack and found the Illinois road map. He traced his finger along a highlighted path. “If we can stay as close to this path as possible, we can avoid any major town and get there with minimal trouble, I think.”

  “Route 4 is patrolled by the army as far south as Ava, according to Morio,” Kenny added. “That’s on the path we’ve picked. Hopefully we can make it there with no trouble. It’s about the halfway point.”

  Anne and I nodded as Ted and Kenny talked about particulars of the trip. This was one of the reasons I knew I needed help. I had problems with directions using a GPS system. I had no idea how to read a map. Anne was better, but she still wasn’t confident in determining what direction she was facing unless it was early in the morning or late in the evening. When it was night, she was as helpless as I was in that regard.

  “You about ready to clear out?” Sergeant Morio asked as he sat down with his breakfast. I had seen him around camp earlier in the morning and assumed he had already had breakfast.

  “Late breakfast?” Anne asked.

  “I’m the last one to eat,” he said. “The cooks eat first, then the men, then me. Helps with morale and discipline.”

  “Your hospitality has been appreciated, Sergeant. But we are ready to clear out. We’re hoping to get near Poplar Bluff today,” Ted said as he stood.

  “That will take some moving, but you have good weather for it. Good luck to you, I hope you find the ones you lost.”

  We gathered our packs from the tents and headed east along the highway. The sun was bright as we made our way along the wide road. The snow had melted, and the grip of winter had loosened. My face was free of the scarf and it felt good to breathe the fresh, light air. The backpack didn’t seem quite as heavy, although I had checked each item the night before. A little food gone, but the canteens were full and the rest of the gear was intact. I had just grown used to the weight in the three days since I had left home. Three days gone, and we were about a third of the way to crossing the river. Crossing the river would put us a little less than a third of the way from reaching Chicago. I felt confident we could be done before we knew it.

  The sun rose ahead of us, occasionally broken by trees which grew high on the bluffs and stretched their limbs over the highway. The dappled shadows didn’t provide shade, but they did break the monotony. I thought we would talk as we walked. I imagined more conversation and bonding as we chewed through the miles, but I was focused on taking the next step, and idle chatter was not on my mind. I found myself thinking deeper and in a more direct way when I walked, a truism I had heard many people extol upon before, but one which I had never taken the time to explore on my own.

  We saw no one else on the road that day and reached Poplar Bluff by the time dusk had settled in. There were various campsites around the highway interchange which led south into the largely abandoned city itself. A few soldiers and some of the policemen who still maintained the Highway Patrol office nearby went to many of the small clusters of people to reinforce the idea the law was still in effect and theft was considered a serious crime.

  “You fella’s understand the rules?” The patrolman said as we set up our camp.

  “No stealing, no fighting, no stirring up trouble,” Ted said.

  “That’s right, and if you get lit up, we are within our rights to drop you in the box until morning. So easy on the booze and pot,” he said.

  We watched as he headed toward another campsite.

  “They seem pretty intense about their rules,” said Anne.

  Ted pointed to a deep shadow across the road. “They are,” he said.

  I looked to where he pointed and saw some sort of structure. Anne squinted. Suddenly, I understood. It was scaffolding with several bodies which were hanged by the neck.

  “What did they do?” asked Anne.

  “Probably thieves,” said Kenny. “Murderers would have been shot, most likely. You kill someone, you want to run. Thieves think they can talk their way out of a hanging.”

  I nodded. They are very serious about the law here. And public hangings are the way they get their point across. I thought about how Kenny had hanged Talley. He did it for the same reason.

  “Thieves kill just as surely as murderers,” I muttered. “Just slower.”

  As my eyes adjusted to the deep shadows, I realized one of the bodies was much larger than the other three.

  “Children?” I asked in shock.

  “No, women most likely,” Ted said. “They usually try to get out of their punishment by feigning weakness or searching for pity. The judge here must not buy their act.”

  “You think there’s a judge?” Anne asked.

  “Justice Halwell I hear. He was a judge in Poplar Bluff before the event. Kept his hand in the trade, I guess,” said Kenny.

  “How do you know?” asked Anne.

  “Some of Lester’s men had dealings with the law. Scavenging in the town without leave.”

  “Anything happen to them?” Anne
asked.

  Kenny shrugged. “It was the first offense. They had everything confiscated. Second offense is an “L” branded into your cheek.”

  “L?” I asked.

  “Looter,” said Ted. “Third offense is hanging I would guess.”

  “No,” said Kenny. “Public whipping. Looting isn’t quite the same as stealing. Almost, but not quite.”

  I shuddered as I realized the barbaric things they casually talked of. Branding criminals, public floggings. It seemed unreal we would have devolved to this. But in a strange way, these laws kept people in check. People like Lester Collins, who would be even worse than he is, were reined in by the swift and sure punishments meted out by men like Justice Halwell.

  Ted turned to me and held out his hand. “You pull first,” he said.

  I blinked at him and then looked at his hand. Four pieces of grass poked out from his grasp.

  “What are we drawing straws for?” I asked.

  “We’re going to set a watch tonight. First watch will go until a little after midnight, then the second watch will take over until dawn.”

  It made sense. With this many people around, we couldn’t risk all of us asleep at the same time.

  I pulled a piece of grass out, and it was pretty long. Anne pulled next and hers was about the same length.

  “Okay,” said Ted. “Looks like me and Kenny will be a team. You drew the long straws, do you want first or second watch?”

  I shrugged and looked at Anne.

  “Early watch,” she said. “I can’t imagine getting up at midnight.”

  “Let’s get something to eat,” said Kenny. “Then we need to get some shut-eye.”

  We finished setting up the camp and Ted made the fire. The campsites were pretty well established and it didn’t take long to clear the ground and unpack our food and water. Kenny and Ted ate quickly and then rolled up in their blankets. It didn’t surprise me they fell asleep almost immediately, I knew I too would slip into slumber as soon as I lay down.

  Anne and I talked quietly as the hours passed by. We listened to the scavengers return from their day of searching in the ruined town. Celebrations over the discovery of a hidden cache of canned food, medicine, batteries or working machinery was muted as no one wished to give away the nature of their luck and hard won treasure.

  The sounds of coyotes in the distance soon became the only real noise around the camps as those who weren’t up on watch drifted to sleep. The moon rose high above the trees as the evening wore on. I was never very good at judging time, but I looked for the North Star and lined it up with the pointer stars in the Big Dipper. I tried to remember how Ted showed me to tell time. I knew the months changed the sky, and I thought I had it figured out.

  “Is it time yet?” Anne asked. She yawned as she asked, and I knew she wanted to sleep as much as I did.

  “Not yet,” I said. “We wait until the big dipper moves to just past that tree.”

  We had lost the ability to hold any real conversation and just stared into the dying fire. I looked up in the sky every few minutes knowing the stars had not marched far enough to wake Ted and Kenny.

  My eyes grew heavy and I wondered if taking second shift might have been the wiser choice.

  I heard Ted stir, and he sat up and nodded to us.

  “You ready for some sleep?” he asked.

  I answered with a yawn while Anne nodded. I looked up at the stars and it was almost midnight.

  “Come on, Kenny,” Ted said as he poked the sleeping man. “They let us sleep in, it’s almost two o’clock.”

  I didn’t look at Anne as we left the fire and found our places to sleep, but I could feel her stare boring into me. I needed a refresher on telling time with the stars.

  Sleep came quick, as I knew it would, but it was troubled. I dreamed of a desolate city and endless searching. I called for Emma and Lexi, but never found them. Each moment felt like an eternity and each time I called their names felt like I was dying.

  I woke to the smell of rain. It was not the smell of a spring rain, where the earth welcomed the nourishing water and released the fertile smells of growing plants. It was the smell of a desolate rain, the type of rain which provides nothing good for anyone or anything.

  We packed our gear and headed down the highway, cold and wet and not knowing where we might find shelter if the weather turned worse. Several of the other camps broke about the same time we did and two small groups traveled east the same as us. Ted still had the rifles in their bags, but I saw him check his sidearm as we started. He raised an eyebrow at me as he did, and I nodded. I had my father’s pistol holstered where I could reach it if there was trouble.

  By noon, the sun had come out and both of the other groups which traveled near us had turned off of the highway. The hills had grown lower and less frequent the further east we had gone, and we made good time.

  As the sun dimmed, Kenny spotted an old barn set off the road a good piece. We decided to risk it, and found it was abandoned, but in pretty good shape. We built a low fire in the dirt floor and bedded down under a solid roof for the first night since we had left Kenton.

  The next morning, Ted decided we needed a rest. This was something we had argued about as we planned the trip. I had wanted no rest days unless it was absolutely needed, and he had said taking a day to rest when we found good shelter was just smart. I was a little irritated we were taking a day of rest before we even left Missouri, but I could tell he was correct. My body desperately needed a break and the barn was good shelter. We had heard some coyotes in the distance during the early morning hours, but Ted had seen a few rabbit tracks when he left to relieve himself at dawn and speculated we were likely not in an area where there was any danger.

  Kenny perked up when he heard there were rabbit tracks and we would be here for the day. Kenny pulled an air rifle out from one of the gun bags and left the barn. Less than ten minutes later, he came back with two fat rabbits.

  “There were a dozen or more,” he said. “But I think we just need two for the time being.”

  Ted skinned and cleaned one of the rabbits, and explained each step to me and Anne. I had a general idea of what was involved, but had never actually done it myself. Ted handed me the knife when he was done and I attempted to clean the second rabbit. It wasn’t bad for the first attempt. I wasn’t near as squeamish as I had been the year before, but it was still a bit odd to think I would be eating this animal in just a few hours.

  Kenny devised a spit to roast the rabbits as I unwrapped my feet from the layers of socks and warmed them near the fire. We had all seen what could happen if you didn’t care for your feet. With no antibiotics close at hand, even the smallest sore or infection could be debilitating or deadly.

  Anne had completely changed her clothes, not wanting to risk a cold from the wetness the day before. I smiled as I looked around at all of the clothing which made a little perimeter around our roasting rabbits. I thought this must have been how the early pioneers in this part of the country spent their winter days. Staying warm, drying out clothes, cooking and eating any small game they could find.

  Ted pulled out a book and started reading out loud. It was a book of Greek and Roman myths. He chose it because it held dozens of short stories which could be read aloud around a camp. They were interesting and also gave a perspective on how the ancients viewed the world. In many ways, our view had shifted back to their primitive one.

  The new simplicity of life had permeated every aspect of my being. When your primary goals everyday were food, water and shelter, and you were never sure if you would have enough of all of them, you tended not to speculate on the nuances of trivialities. There was what worked and what didn’t work, what was right and what was wrong. In many ways I felt free. Free from inconsequential decisions which I had lost myself in before the event. Now I had purpose, and every day counted toward that purpose.

  Which is why I felt bad about sitting in a barn as my stomach growled from the smell of roas
t rabbit. I didn’t think this day off helped get me closer to Chicago. And that was my true purpose.

  Chapter 6

  The next morning we made our way from the shelter of the little barn back to the highway. The western sky was dark and a sharp line of clouds looked poised to make a run at us. Ted said we should be able to get to Sikeston before the front hit, but I wasn’t sure that was the case. About noon, we all knew the cloud line would overtake us by nightfall.

  We walked on through the day, past fields which had been tended the previous summer. Little houses in the distance seemed normal and full of life. Smoke came from most chimneys as we continued and there were more people in the distance. Not travelers like ourselves, but people who belonged. After a week of walking through the wilderness, we were back in civilization. Frank had told us as wild as Cape had turned, and as lawless as Poplar Bluff and Wilcox had become, Sikeston, like Kenton, had pulled it together.

  “It’s been years since I’ve been to Sikeston,” Kenny said.

  “Me too,” answered Anne.

  “I’d never even heard of it before the army got to Kenton,” said Ted.

  “You’ve never been to Lambert’s?” I asked.

  Ted shook his head. “No. What is it?”

  “Seriously good food, man. Legendary restaurant,” said Kenny.

  “What kind of food?”

  “Down home, country cooking,” Anne said. “Just amazing.”

  We saw the town itself in the distance as the wind picked up and lashed at us. It didn’t have the feel of snow with it, but the temperature was dropping fast. We wrapped our scarves around our faces and pushed on as fast as we could. We hoped we could find a place to stay in town. If not, we could probably at least find a place out of the wind.

  A car slowly pulled across the road about half a mile in front of us, followed by several soldiers marching behind at a quick pace. We had several working vehicles in Kenton, but it was still odd enough to draw attention.