by Harp, Wilson
“I wonder how many soldiers are stationed here,” Ted said. The wind was loud now, and he had to shout.
“Don’t know,” I said. “Why?”
“That’s the fifth group I’ve seen,” he said. “I wonder, how many people they’ve taken in?”
It was a good question. They recruited some in Kenton, but only a few joined up. Frank said the army recruited heavily from most towns. Especially among the men who didn’t have much to contribute to their community. I know they tried to get Buck to join up, but he told them he was needed to lead the hunts. They agreed and gave him a brevet rank of sergeant in case they called up the militia.
Another group of soldiers was huddled together in a parking lot near a fire. How many had I missed?
“This town is crawling in uniforms,” Kenny said. “You think there’s going to be some action soon?”
“I don’t know,” said Ted. “Maybe this is what it’s always like here.”
“If so, it makes our little town seem quiet and quaint,” said Anne.
We made our way into the main part of town. There were several buildings which looked like they had been burned and abandoned, but repairs were underway and the town itself was crowded. Many more people than in Kenton, I was sure of that. We saw a military tent set up in a park, and made our way to it.
Several soldiers stood outside the tent, but they didn’t make a move to stop us. The tent was made of heavy material which kept out the wind and cold. It was lit by a lantern and several candles. Three tables had been set up and along the back wall was a mish-mash of filing cabinets.
An officer sat near one of the candles. It looked like he was filling out a form. He glanced up as he saw us enter and smiled broadly.
“May I help you?” he asked.
“We’re travelers, and are hoping there is a place out of the cold in town.”
“Where are you from?” he asked.
“Kenton,” Ted said.
“Have scrip on you?”
I thought it was an odd question, but nodded yes. Anne nodded, too.
“If you have army scrip, there is a place which rents rooms about two blocks from here. Ask for Vickie’s, someone can point you.”
“Much obliged,” Ted said.
We turned to leave when the officer spoke again.
“Where are you heading, if you don’t mind me asking.”
“Out of town tomorrow,” Kenny said. “Why?”
“Would you be heading north by chance?”
Ted looked at us and then back at the officer. “We might be, is there some reason we shouldn’t?”
“No, In fact, you might be able to earn some extra scrip if you are heading as far north as Cape. I have a report I need to send up there.”
The officer picked up the paper he had been working on and held it up. “I can send a note that will give you fifty if you deliver it.”
Fifty wasn’t much, about five hour’s work, but it was better than walking all the way for free.
Ted nodded. “Yeah, we can do that.”
“Great,” said the man. “Come back here tomorrow morning and I’ll have it ready.”
We thanked him again and left the tent. One of the soldiers outside knew exactly where Vickie’s was and pointed the building out to us.
Dusk had come on quick while we were in the tent, and the two block walk to Vickie’s plunged us into the dark. As busy as Sikeston was, there were less lights in the town than Kenton had. Candles and fires, although still dim, gave a soft glow to Kenton during the early evening hours. I realized most of Sikeston was open farm fields, while back home we had thick woods surrounding us. Firewood was probably still scarce here.
We climbed the steps to Vickie’s, which seemed to be an old apartment complex, and opened the door. A thin, blonde woman sat reading at a table just inside. A single candle in a glass gave enough light to see by, but I couldn’t have read without a headache.
“Welcome,” she said as the wind from the outside made the candle flicker. “You’ll be needing a room?”
“Yes,” said Ted. “How much are they?”
“Twenty-five for each of you, plus another twenty each for breakfast tomorrow if you are interested.”
I dug out my scrip and counted out two hundred. I handed it to her and waved off her attempt to give me change.
“You keep it,” I said. “Buy someone else a breakfast if they need it.”
Tears formed in her eyes as she smiled and nodded.
“Generosity is hard to come by these days. I know someone who will appreciate a good meal tomorrow. Thank you,” she said. “My name is Vickie, and this is my bed and breakfast as it were.”
The place really was an apartment building. The apartment she put us in was dirty, and smelled, but it was better than sleeping in the cold and wind.
“I’ll bring some fresh water directly. The privies are out in the back. I’ll serve breakfast in my place, number 12, around sunup. We will have eggs and grits,” Vickie said. “Ya’ll have a good night sleep.”
We said goodnight to Vickie and waited until we heard her walk down the hall.
Ted and Kenny then picked up the couch and moved it in front of the door. Kenny shut the dead bolt and Ted checked the other rooms.
“Do you really think that’s necessary?” I asked. “This seems reputable enough.”
“You don’t think sometimes, David,” Anne said. “We don’t know the people here and you are flashing around cash.”
“What? We have enough scrip. I have another five hundred myself. And we won’t need it once we cross the bridge anyway.”
“That’s not the point. Didn’t you see the prices? We were offered fifty to deliver a message. You make five times that in the fields. Breakfast is twenty? That’s two hours digging holes in Kenton. I would bet most people here don’t make a hundred a day.”
“If that,” Ted said. “It costs forty five for a room and a meal here. If scrip was easy to come by, there wouldn’t be any vacancies here.”
“But why?” I asked. “Don’t they get paid the same by the army?”
“Probably not,” Ted said. “The army bought a lot of our crops last fall. We assumed it was to feed themselves, but they could have been selling it to other towns. Like Sikeston. If things were tough here last year, they wouldn’t have had as much to trade for food.”
“You didn’t even barter,” Kenny said. “I respect your generous nature, but you do need to think about how it looks.”
I felt embarrassed. I had possibly put us in danger by not considering my actions. I had dismissed the cautious and careful way Ted had talked to Bill and Sergeant Morio as being a bit paranoid, but I realized now I was being naïve. This wasn’t a safe world anymore. No stranger could be trusted.
“It’s okay,” Kenny said. “You just need to count to three before you say anything or do anything. Alright?”
I nodded and found a good place to bed down for the night. As cautious as the others were, there was no watch set and within minutes we were all asleep.
I dreamed of Chicago that night. I dreamed of walking down at the pier with Lexi. I dreamed of eating a hot dog on the street with Emma. Those dreams bothered me when I woke. Sometimes Emma was a little girl, like four or five, and other times she was a teenager. I feared I was losing my idea of her. Like I wouldn’t recognize her when I saw her again. She would be seventeen now. I celebrated her birthday last November. I added some sugar to a loaf of bread I made for me and mom and we lit a candle. Mom didn’t understand what was happening, but I wished my little girl a happy birthday and blew the candle out for her.
I thought about my dreams for several minutes after I woke. My heart ached to hold Lexi and Emma again. I stood and moved the couch out of the way of the door and headed to the privy out back. When I got back to the room, Kenny and Ted had gone to breakfast.
Anne was sitting on the floor, still wrapped in her blanket.
“How bad was it?” she asked.
“The dream. I heard you call to Emma last night. It sounded bad.”
I was a little stunned because although I didn’t remember a nightmare, apparently I had been mumbling in my sleep or something.
“What’d I say?”
“You said ‘I’m coming, Emma’ and you called her name several times. Then you muttered ‘no’ several times. Then you sounded like you were crying. Didn’t sound pleasant.”
“I did dream of Emma and Lexi, but it wasn’t a bad dream,” I said.
“Oh.” said Anne. “I was just concerned.”
We headed to the number 12 apartment and met Ted and Kenny for breakfast. Vickie had put out eggs and grits and it smelled delicious. She handed each of us a plate and thanked me again for the extra scrip. Her eyes wandered over to an older man as she did.
“I told him I had some extra today. He doesn’t eat much anymore.”
We took our food back to our rented room and ate. The grits tasted off, not like I remembered them from before the event. Almost tasted like Vickie had used something to make the field corn stretch a little further. While we ate, we talked about what we might expect in Cape Girardeau.
“You can see the scars of riots here,” said Ted. “And from what I’ve heard, Cape has a lot more.”
“I heard the entire university is pretty much gone,” said Kenny.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Frank told me the first few vehicles in the town were old army trucks and the students at the university attacked them. They thought the army had caused the EMP. But it’s better now. Right?”
“I assume so. If you don’t have any food or water, it’s hard to riot and fight,” Ted said.
“I guess we’ll see when we get there,” said Kenny.
We finished our breakfasts and took our plates back to Vickie. She wished us good luck on our journey and offered to put us up again if we were back in town. For regular rates, of course. I considered her offer and thought Sikeston might not be a bad place to live when I brought Lexi and Emma back. It wasn’t quite as separated from the rest of the world the way Kenton was.
On our way out of town, we picked up the envelope from the officer we had met the night before. His name was Major Humphries and he was as nice that morning as he had been the previous evening. He gave us a note which would grant us 50 scrip and a promise for safe passage across the river. We bid him farewell and left Sikeston heading north along Interstate 55 to Cape Girardeau.
As we traveled, we saw several patrols coming in from Cape. They looked tired and haggard. The cold front came through the night before and the day had a sharp bite to the wind. It took a full day’s march to get all the way to Cape. We pushed hard and hoped there would be a place to stay when we arrived.
It was an hour after dark when we reached the outskirts of Cape Girardeau. There had been patrols up and down Interstate 55 all day and check points every half mile or so. Soldiers kept watch on the fields and woods on both sides and had reinforced their little stations with scrap metal and pieces of wood. More than one check point used an abandoned car to rest behind, and all of the cars showed signs of having been shot at. Some of the locals still blamed the military for the event and liked to take potshots at the soldiers according to some of the rumors. It appeared those rumors were not exaggerated.
I wasn’t sure if I had believed the talk of caravans of people and goods being ambushed along the interstate, but as we walked and saw the serious looks on the faces of the men and women who guarded this stretch of road, I felt certain the stories had at least some truth to them.
The further north we walked, the more I feared seeing what the city itself would look like. I knew it would be the first real taste of what awaited me in Chicago. I was terrified of what I would find, and wracked with guilt. Lexi and Emma had to go through the horror while I was in a secure little town. They would have faced terrors I was afraid to glance at, while I worked in safe fields among people I could trust.
The further I went from Kenton, the more I realized how special a place it was, and I knew why it was so special.
Ted Riggins walked beside me and he was the reason Kenton not only survived, but became an oasis of peace and tranquility in the chaotic world we walked through. If he hadn’t stepped up and taken charge that first day, I fear we would all have been scavengers, hunters, and bandits waiting for the army to come rescue us or put us down.
As the final light of the day faded, we came to a small village of tents. A wooden barricade surrounded the encampment, and guards armed with rifles were gathered at each entry point.
We approached the nearest guard station. We had been open with our approach, but none seemed to go out of their way to be friendly.
“Do you have business here?” one of the guards asked as we drew near.
Ted held out the envelope Major Humphries had given us.
“I have a report from Sikeston,” Ted said. “I was told to deliver it to Cape.”
The guard took the envelope and looked inside by the dim light of a nearby camp fire.
“Yeah, it’s Humphries’ report,” he said. “He’s always sending up civilians rather than his own men.”
He handed the envelope back to Ted and pointed toward the center of their camp.
“The colonel is somewhere in the middle,” he said. “And I’m guessing you’ll want to bed down for the night?”
Ted smiled and nodded. “We wouldn’t turn it down.”
“I’ll let Fulton know he has some guests to put up. Come on in.”
We entered and made our way toward a large tent set up in the center of the camp. The ambient heat of the many well-tended campfires knocked the chill off the air and the barricades and tents blocked the wind. The haze from the fires hung close to the ground and it was hard to see more than a few dozen feet. It was definitely a change from the air we had been breathing in Kenton for the last several months and it strangely made me homesick for Chicago. We were in better spirits than when we started the day. Warmer for sure, and happy to have found a place to sleep for the night.
Inside the tent were about a dozen men. A lamp with two light bulbs cast sharp shadows across most of the tables and chairs where men played board games or read books. A small generator hummed quietly, providing the energy needed for this small moment of civilization. I had anticipated an office, like the large military tent in Sikeston, but instead this looked to be their recreation center, a place where soldiers off duty could relax and enjoy themselves.
“Can I help you?” a voice asked as we looked around.
Ted held up the envelope. “I have a message from Major Humphries in Sikeston,” he said.
“I’ll take it,” said a man in the corner. “I’m Colonel McDearis and I’m in command here. Who are you and where are you from?”
Ted lowered the scarf from around his face and pulled the hood of his coat down.
“I’m Ted Riggins and we’re from Kenton.”
“Riggins. It’s good to meet you. We’ve chatted on the radio a few times,” McDearis said as he stood and came over to us.
Ted handed him the message as the colonel approached.
“I thought that was you,” Ted said. “Just been a few months and wasn’t sure.”
McDearis glanced in the envelope and slid it into his pocket. He held out his hand and the two men shook.
“Who are your friends?”
“This is Anne Franklin, Kenny Dawson, and David Hartsman,” Ted said.
“Nice to meet you. Welcome to Camp Cape Girardeau.” The colonel then fixed his eyes on me. “Hartsman? You’re the one who fixed the radio last summer, right?”
“Yes. Are you the one who answered?”
“No,” the Colonel said with a sigh. “That was Webb. He was our main radioman and one of our best engineers. He passed away in December. He was a good friend.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I said.
The Colonel nodded. “Losing people just seems to
be the way things go anymore, doesn’t it? Well, I’m betting ya’ll are tired and could use a place to bed down. Ah, here comes your bellboy now.”
We looked back at the entrance of the tent and saw a soldier enter. He smiled at us and the colonel.
“I’m Sergeant Fulton and I have prepared some quarters for you if you will follow me.”
“Good night, Colonel and thank you for your hospitality,” Ted said.
We all echoed Ted’s comments as McDearis walked with us to the entrance.
“It was a pleasure to meet you. Find me at breakfast,” he said.
We followed the Sergeant toward a group of small buildings. I had thought they would find a place in the camp to settle us, but instead we were led to a brick outbuilding.
“This is one of our guest shelters,” Sergeant Fulton said. “More comfortable than a tent on a cold, windy night like this.”
“Thank you,” said Kenny. “It’ll be nice to get out of the cold.”
“You’re welcome. Have a good rest.”
The shed itself was quite small on the inside, but it was warm and out of the wind, and those were the most important things. We were crowded as we made ourselves comfortable, but it didn’t seem to matter.
I fell asleep as soon as I closed my eyes and don’t remember any dreams from that night.
Chapter 7
A sharp knock at the door jerked me awake.
“Guest house two, it’s 0600. Time for breakfast.”
Ted staggered to his feet and cracked open the door.
“What? Why are you waking us,” he muttered as he suppressed a yawn.
“It’s 0600 and Colonel McDearis has requested your presence at breakfast.”
“Where?” Ted asked.
“The big tent,” the soldier said.
Ted shut the door and I heard him mutter under his breath. None of us were morning people, and Ted least of all.
“I guess we better go see the colonel,” he said.
We gathered our gear and made our way to the big tent in the pre-dawn light of the stars and the smoldering coals of dozens of dying campfires. The day would be cold again, and the frost crunched under our feet wherever a stray clump of grass had found the strength to persevere.
