The basement came into full illumination, revealing a small-scale brewing operation.
“Wow Vilos, quite the setup you got here.” I marveled at the large copper kettles and fermenting tank that lined the wall.
“Well, a few years ago my wife pressed me to get into a hobby since I retired, and I had always been keen on brewing. I cut out a few acres on our land and grew some wheat, barley and hops and presto, beer! I’m going to try my hand at wine and spirits this fall when the grapes I got growing mature, but for now, beer it is!”
Viols made his way to a propane-powered refrigerator and produced 12 bottles of beer bearing the label “Pith Helmet IPA” with a British style pith helmet emblazoned on the front label. “My son came up with the illustration on the label, he’s quite the artist.”
We shut off the lights and brought the beer to the waiting guests. During our absence, another person had joined the group. Vilos introduced the newcomer as Geoff Ranes, the chief radio operator. He was going to give us some intelligence on the road ahead after dinner.
We popped open the bottles, and I took a long, cold pull of the IPA. The taste of pine needles and hops splashed over my tongue, reminding me of Sierra Nevada Torpedo, one of the finest IPA’s around. I complemented Vilos on his brewing skill and relaxed among the group of people sitting on the porch talking quietly.
Vilos’s son, a strapping young man named Ivan, finally arrived after tending to the rabbits and chickens. He had a large red fox gripped in his hand. “Dad, you were right, I laid the trap where you told me and bang, instant fox! We won’t be losing anymore chickens and rabbits to this character!” He threw the fox over the side of the porch and said “I’ll skin it after dinner for the pelt. Can I have a beer?”
“Sure can, unless these fine Police officers object!”
I laughed, “I don’t think that the age limit to drinking is one of our bigger problems right now, so enjoy Ivan!”
Ivan grabbed on of the beers and popped the top; he took a long pull and smacked his lips, “Ah, that’s great stuff dad!”
Jane came out on the porch with a pile of raw buffalo steaks seasoned with salt and pepper.
“Ivan! Vilos! These steaks aren’t going to cook themselves…Get to work!”
Vilos made his way to the massive grill in the corner and hit the spark switch bringing it to propane powered life. After letting it heat for a few moments, he laid the meat on the grill and soon the sound and smell of roasting meat drifted across the porch. After a single expert turn of the meat, Vilos announced that the steaks were ready. He signaled his wife in the kitchen, “Just about ready darling!”
Jane called from the kitchen, “Come on folks, soup’s on.” She led us to a table off the kitchen. Apparently, we rated the good china and silverware as visiting dignitaries. We tucked in around the table, and Ivan dropped a substantial buffalo steak on each of our plates. The root vegetables, including carrots, potatoes and parsnips moved around the table in a large bowl.
Silence reigned as we all dug into the wonderful dinner. The buffalo was incredibly lean and juicy, and the vegetables were roasted to perfection. It had been a long time since I had a home-cooked sit down meal, so I relished it.
Dinner finished quickly, and we were directed to the family room for conversation. Vilos took up residence in a leather winged back chair with Simone and I sitting on a small loveseat, and Geoff and Ivan sat across from us on a matching love seat. Jane joined us and sat on a rocker situated beside Vilos.
I rocked back in my seat, “That was an incredible dinner, thanks everyone!”
Vilos nodded, “Our pleasure, now let’s get down to business. Geoff, you have the floor.”
Geoff stood, “Ever since the event, I have been keeping tabs on our local area as well as the world. I’ve been a HAM for 25 years, and, thanks to my hobby, have made hundreds of contacts all over the world. Soon after this happened, I tried to contact my friends to see if this was happening everywhere. It appears all corners of the world are affected by this incident, as far south as Pretoria in South Africa, and as far north ad Fairbanks, Alaska. Rioting started almost immediately in the big cities, and some of my friends became victims of the chaos. One thing that I found strange is that none of my contacts has heard a peep from the Federal Government. Thanks to the Department of Homeland Security, many of us in the HAM community serve as vital communications links for the government on the local level. Even if the government went into hiding, they would still be issuing instructions from their secure locations for us to pass along to local authorities. So far, we’ve heard nothing; not even military commanders are communicating with eachother. My friends that live near large bases all say that the military has hunkered down and are waiting for instructions, with no movement in or out of the bases at all. This is a worldwide event, so we need to take steps to protect ourselves right away.”
Vilos grunted, “That’s being taken care of Geoff as you are aware. Please continue.”
“As for Southeastern Wisconsin, things are rapidly spinning out of control. Milwaukee has totally gone to hell, for lack of a better term. My friend on the near south side says he witnessed a mob of what appeared to be gang members burn the Sixth District police station to the ground. My friend said that the police put up one hell of a fight, but they were simply outgunned and overwhelmed by the gang members. The remaining officers were executed in front of the station as a lesson to anyone else that resisted. After finishing with the police, the gang then attacked St. Luke’s hospital and looted it for all of its supplies, then set it on fire. My friend barely escaped back to his home to report this to me. The same thing was repeated at several local police stations according to other eyewitnesses in the city. So, we can assume that law and order is non-existent within the city limits, so traveling there is not advisable at all. Your path to Eagle and Waukesha is relatively clear, there is not much activity on the roads, so you can probably pass without incident. I don’t know your final destination, but it appears that west and north of Milwaukee are the most stable areas for the moment. Your best bet is to go through those areas and avoid Milwaukee on your journey.”
Geoff sat down, and Vilos stood up, “Ben, I’m sorry about your friends, I can only hope that some escaped to carry on the fight elsewhere. Hopefully, they got back to their families and got out.”
“I hope so too Vilos. Geoff, can you get a hold of either the guys in charge of Waukesha or the Sheriff’s Department and tell them that one of their numbers is returning. Also where a good place to meet as soon as you can?”
“Sure, I’ll go right now and start working on that. I’ll let you know tomorrow morning before you head out.” Geoff then left to carry out his new assignment.
“Vilos, I think I am going to head back and turn in…Simone, you coming?”
“Yeah, we got a long ride tomorrow….thanks for your hospitality Vilos. Ivan and Jane, it was a pleasure meeting both of you. Hopefully, we’ll see you soon on the return trip.”
Vilos walked us to the door, “Sleep well my friends.”
I reached in my daypack, “I almost forgot, manners dictated that I come with something for the host.” I produced a pint of Myers and handed it over to my friend. “I hope you enjoy it.”
Vilos studied the oblong bottle, “Rum is my favorite, thanks so much!”
Simone and I then made our way back to the firehouse. As I crashed into my bunk, I couldn’t help but think of my friends at District six. I furiously hoped that they left a pile of gangbangers on the doorstep of Six before being overwhelmed. I hope that if they died they died for something, and not for the people who didn’t stand up for them. I drifted off to sleep praying that those who met their end had gone on to a better place.
Chapter 24
Simone and I rose early. I made my call back to Cambridge and outlined what had transpired at the dinner as well as the information provided to us by Geoff regarding the state of the world. We got the news that Geoff had contacted Wauk
esha County Sheriff and Eagle, and we were expected later that day. Our contact in Waukesha was Jeff Perkins, chief road deputy and we were to meet him at the Western checkpoint at Highway XX and the Les Paul Parkway in the early evening. We packed our bikes and had a hearty breakfast provided to us from our firehouse hosts. We met Jonas, and he took us to the opposite checkpoint and bid us farewell. We rode out of Palmyra with full bellies and high hipes for the next few days.
All through the morning we rode in silence wondering what the next turn would bring us. We saw a few people, and they waved at us from a distance, but made no effort to approach our little convoy. As the sun rose higher, the temperature rose quickly, straining us and making us sweat.
I pulled alongside Simone, “What do you say to a water break at the next crossroads?”
She looked up from her handlebars, “Yeah, sounds like a plan, we’ll be just shy of Eagle, so it seems like a good time to stop.”
We found an abandoned general store and stopped under the awning for the shade. It appeared that the store was looted for everything of value. We sat on the porch, sipped our water and nibbled on some Kind bars Jane had slipped us for the trip. Despite the pastoral scene around us, I couldn’t shake the feeling we were being watched from a distance, so I kept my eyes peeled as we rested. I looked out across the highway at a vast field of wheat that shimmered and moved in the slight breeze, and saw some movement that caught my eye. It appeared that a clump of wheat was moving in our direction with purpose. I touched Simone on the arm and pointed out into the field, “Am I hallucinating or is that clump of grass moving towards us?”
Simone shielded her eyes from the sun, “Yeah, it doesn’t look like it is going along with the wind, looks like it’s standing straight up.”
I lifted myself from the floor of the porch and made my way to my bike and unlimbered my AR-15 from its improvised scabbard and chambered a round. The bolt slamming home made a loud snapping sound, and the pile of grass stood up with his hands in the air.
He waved his arms, “Don’t shoot, I’m friendly!”
The wheat man crossed the road under the muzzle of my rifle. He stopped about ten feet away from me and put his hands down, “Are you Ben and Simone?”
“Who wants to know?”
“I’m Bill McKesson, I work for the town of Eagle and was directed to contact you while you were on the road. I happened to see you so I thought I would take a peek before revealing myself. I guess I don’t have this Ghillie suit thing right just yet, but I’m getting better!” He smiled a lopsided smile. We’re about a mile from the roadblock, follow me and I will take you in.” He produced a small radio from his pocket and said into it, “Shaggy to Scooby, I found the package and am bringing it in, over.”
The radio squawked, “Ask him who his best friend is.”
Bill looked at me sheepishly, “Who is your best friend?”
“The mighty Basset Hound of course!” This was the agreed upon verbal authentication for Eagle.
“Authentication confirmed, proceed.” Crackled the voice on the radio.
Bill led us up the hill to what he called the back entrance and were met by the Mayor. After a few pleasantries and confirmation on what supplies we were going to drop off to them on the return trip, we were led through town and passed through their second roadblock. With Eagle behind us, we set our sights on the checkpoint of western Waukesha twelve miles away.
Since we left Eagle, I noticed Simone picking up the pace a bit. I looked down at my speedometer and noticed that we were moving along at 17 miles per hour. Her long legs were like steam pistons pumping away at the pedals in measured and powerful strokes. I rode parallel to her and enjoyed the ride. Not many could move at such a pace, and only after years of hard riding on my part, I was finally able to keep a hard pace like this on a mountain bike. To watch a natural in action was a true pleasure. She danced on the pedals and moved along almost effortlessly. I watched her concentrate on putting all of her energy into the pedal stroke without mashing her legs down and crushing the pedals. Her back was straight, and her shoulders hardly moved, the true mark of an efficient cyclist. She was so smooth I thought I could have balanced a glass of water on her back, and it wouldn’t spill.
I pulled alongside her, “At this pace we will be therein less than an hour, right about three o’clock…just in time for cocktails.”
Simone smiled, “A banana daiquiri for me good sir!”
I laughed, “I’ll inform the concierge prior to our arrival good lady!”
She looked over at me, “I’m sorry I am going so fast, I just want to see my people and get off the road.”
“Understood, I’m looking forward to meeting them…and laying in a soft bed for the night!”
“That you’ll have sir, I assure you. Now let’s make it a big finish….we’re within two miles of the checkpoint. Simone poured on the power and in less than nine minutes we arrived. From what I could see it was a pretty orderly operation. The outer perimeter guards stopped us and asked who we were. When Simone identified herself and produced her identification, the guards visibly relaxed and waved a green flag at the main entrance. A large black man in a Sheriff’s uniform strode towards us. He was a mountain of a man, at least 6 foot 5 and dark skinned. A large black mustache bristled between his upper lip and nose, and he moved with an athletic grace. As he got closer, he squinted his eyes at Simone and ran towards her, scooping her up and giving her a bear hug.
“You made it back! I thought I’d lost you girl!”
“Now Perkie, you know you can’t lose a girl like me, we’re just too tough.”
Simone was dropped to the ground, and the giant turned to face me, “Are you the guy I’m to thank for bringing one of our own home to us?”
I extended my hand, “Sergeant Ben Smith, District Six, Milwaukee. At your service sir!”
“He gripped my hand and gave it a firm shake, “Jeff Perkins, Chief Deputy. I’m sorry to hear about your friends; it’s all over the HAM network.”
I sighed, “It’s a terrible loss for the citizens of Milwaukee, I can only hope they went out fighting and died well.”
Jeff grunted, spoken like a warrior cop. “Let’s get you inside the perimeter and get you some grub, I’m sure that you’re hungry after all that riding.”
We walked through the improvised gate and brought to a building called the Command Post, which was a vacated car dealership. People moved with purpose, shuffling paper and holding conversations about the subject of long-term survival.
I marveled at the activity, “It’s the end of the world, and we’re still shuffling paper…unbelievable!”
Jeff chuckled, “Yeah, it is a bit absurd, but things still have to be accounted for, schedules have to be written and defenses must be coordinated…..so paper still rules.”
We were led to a large, well appointed office that had a desk, chairs, and a large couch off to the side. Simone and I plopped on the couch, and Jeff took the office chair after moving it from behind the desk. Something in Jeff’s demeanor change when we entered the office, I had the distinct feeling we were about to get some very bad news.
Jeff looked at Simone, “Hon, I got some bad news. We found your grandmother and sister in their home. It looks like they were killed killed after the first night. We think it was robbers looking for a quick score while the lights were out. Your sister tagged one of them with the Glock you left her, but without DNA analysis of the blood pool, we’ll never be able to find out who did it. Looks like your grandma had a heart attack from all of the excitement and died in her room. I didn’t know how else to tell you….I’m so sorry.
Simone froze, and a single tear dropped from her left eye, “I should never have left to go to this fucking class. It’s all my fault!” She buried her head in her hands and began to weep.
I touched my friend’s shoulder. “Simone, it’s not your fault, those guys that broke in made the choice for your family. It wouldn’t have mattered if you were there or not,
we both know this.”
Simone sniffed, “Ben, Jeff, leave me for a few minutes ok, I need some time alone.”
Jeff and I excused ourselves so Simone could have those few moments alone. Jeff was interested in the details of the journey and pressed me for details. I summarized the trip and all of the adventures we had, ending with our arrival at the checkpoint. Jeff wanted more, I suspected he wanted to know if Simone and I are a couple, so I decided to give him what he wanted, but in a blunt fashion.
“Jeff, if you’re wondering if we’re fucking, the answer is no. Simone and I are friends, nothing more. We merely banded together because I was headed this way and knew she was too. If she’s yours, just tell me, she wasn’t very talkative on the subject of significant others during our time together.
Jeff dropped his head, “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Oh? Not to be rude man, but it sure seemed like it to me!”
“Look Ben, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you or put my brand on Simone. We were together once, but not for about a year now. Under the circumstances we’re facing, I would like that to change, you understand.”
“I certainly can understand that Jeff. Apology accepted. Now, what can you tell me about the local towns and road conditions around New Berlin.”
“Why New Berlin Ben?”
I hesitated for a moment unsure about just how much to tell Jeff, “I’ve got some stuff there I’m going to pick up and bring back with me to Cambridge.”
“I see. Well, in New Berlin, Jerry Kozy is in charge. I can radio him if you want me to and let him know you’re coming.”
When I heard that name, my blood froze. I had to play it off despite this devastating piece of news. “That would be great, but don’t tell him what I plan on doing. I’ll take care of that.”
“Will do. I’ll be back in about an hour until then could you comfort Simone for me.”
“Sure thing Jeff.”
I watched Jeff’s back as he retreated down the hallway, my mind in absolute turmoil. For fuck’s sake……Jerry Kozy in charge of New Berlin! I couldn’t believe it. I could only assume that the entire command staff, all 4 of them, got wiped out to leave Jerry in charge.
Lights out in America's Dairyland: An EMP Adventure Page 20
