American Exodus

by JK Franks

  47

  It was still three more days before they were allowed to leave the base. No handshakes or good wishes, just instructions to follow a corporal to a waiting Humvee. They were dropped off on the far side of the massive Army base an hour later. The corporal handed them each a rucksack from the rear compartment. “What’s this?” Steve asked confused. He knew they had lost everything in the river.

  The corporal just shrugged. “The major told me to kit you guys out with one of our three-day packs. It’s not a lot, but it’ll get you started.” He then gave them each several liter bottles of water, then got back in the driver’s seat and, with a brief nod, drove back the way they had come.

  The two of them stood there on the overgrown dirt road on the edge of an ocean of pine trees. “Well, JD, I guess we are heading to Albany; you good with that?” The boy had been somber since Gerald’s death, but he gave a nod. “If that pack pulls on your wounds too much let me know. Sergeant Lackey had given him precise instructions on changing out the dressings and what to look for in the way of infection. She had also slipped him a small container of antibiotics and some pain meds, including some that might help with his migraines.

  They left the dirt road and safety of the base, turning south onto the two-lane blacktop. While Major Kitma had assured them the federal militia wasn’t patrolling below the base, they still had to worry about local threats. Gerald had drilled them on what he called “situational awareness” over their weeks together. Now they found themselves doing it automatically. Looking for anything that seems out of place, unusual. Glance to your rear and sides regularly. Stop and listen, stay in shadow or deep woods if you think others are around. Essentially, make sure you see them before they see you. This approach slows your progress but can keep you alive. While they first thought it was a stupid routine, neither felt that way now. “Head on a swivel, right?” he asked JD. The boy nodded.

  “Mr. St . . . I mean, Steve, why did those people want to hurt us?”

  They had been walking for hours, the last two in silence. JD’s words shook him out of a memory. He knew that JD meant the people that shot him and killed Gerald. “I don’t know. Maybe they are angry at someone, scared, not sure what comes next or . . . maybe they were just always bad. Now they don’t have to fear the police or being caught and punished. It’s a different kind of world, JD. For now, we have to share it with those types.”

  “I hope we don’t see any more like ‘em.”

  Steve nodded his agreement. “We probably should have avoided that town, we were doing pretty good up until that point. I just wasn’t expecting them to be forcing people out of the cities and into the aid camps at gunpoint.”

  They walked on in silence for several more minutes before JD asked, “Are you really going to go to Mr. Gerald’s cabin?”

  “Yes. I wasn’t sure at first, but even if my home is still there, it isn’t safe. I have no supplies there.” How odd it was for him to be thinking in terms of tactics and strategy; how defensible the location was, how far to fresh water. “JD, I was totally unprepared for this disaster, hell, any disaster. It never even crossed my mind. I relied on others, assumed I would never be in a situation that I couldn’t buy what I needed. I wasn’t like Gerald; he was prepared. He…” His voice broke. “He should have been the one to survive—not me.” He walked on several more steps before continuing. “I think his place will be the best option for us all to get through this. We’ll go to my house and get my wife and son, maybe Elvis if he is still there, and head to the old man’s lake house.”

  The boy looked puzzled. “Elvis?”

  “My rescue dog, just a furry ball of fun.” Damn, he missed that mutt almost as much as he did his son. JD had told him where the cabin was. Steve figured it was a good eighty miles from Albany. That kind of distance would have seemed impossible until the last few weeks. Now it simply meant a couple more days on the road.

  They bypassed several small towns by a wide margin but had passed no one on the road. Steve wasn’t sure the travel restrictions scared everyone so much they didn’t venture out, or maybe no one was left down here. As the sun began to dip, they found a concealed spot to rest for the night. As he dropped the pack, he decided to see what was included in the Army rucksack.

  It was surprisingly well equipped with a first-aid kit, spare clothes, light-duty sleeping bag and rain gear, as well as knife, matches, chemlites, signal mirror, binoculars, paracord, and several food pouches, energy bars and six MREs.

  “I have to admit, I think this is the best equipped we’ve been since getting on the road. Thank you, U.S. Army.”

  JD was inventorying his supplies as well. “Can we eat one of these tonight?” He held up one of the MREs.

  “Why don’t we share one and split an energy bar? We probably want to make them last.” They had been fed well at the base, but non-stop walking all day had burned a lot of calories. “We also need to find water each day and any other food that we can.”

  “I know. I thought about that today, but I was . . . ”

  “You were what?” Steve asked.

  He shrugged. “I dunno.”

  Steve had an idea of what it was—the boy was scared. He was, too, and it was not going to go away. Fear is a tool, not a weakness when the threats are real. “We can stick together when we go scavenging, ok? Also, I think we need to make some weapons, even just a sharp stick. Right now, we have nothing.”

  JD jumped on that idea and went around the immediate area looking for suitable sticks. Steve had figured out the boy did better if he had a project, something to focus on. He made up his mind to come up with something new each day for him.

  They shared the cold meal, and Steve got ready for sleep while JD sharpened the end of a long staff. Tomorrow would be another grueling hike, and his feet were throbbing from today’s march. “Get some rest, JD. Another long day tomorrow.”

  “We probably need to keep a watch tonight,” the boy said without looking up.

  “Leighton taught you well, son. I think we are well concealed back here, but you are probably right. You want me to take the first shift?”

  “Nah, Steve, I got it. I’ll wake you when I get tired.”

  Steve smiled—the boy was maturing with every passing day. He would be a survivor. He owed it to Gerald, and he owed it to JD to make sure that happened.

  They were trapped. Neither had expected the threat, but they had been discovered and outmaneuvered. The second and third day back on the road had seemed ordinary, almost boring. That changed on that third night. They had walked until well after dark just to put some additional distance between them and a light industrial and residential area. The entire area had a dangerous feel to it and a lingering smell of decay. Both had gotten the bad vibes and wanted to keep going. As the cover of trees was nearly non-existent, they had moved into open pasture land away from the roads. JD spotted the first one, a dark shape moving fast through the weeds.

  Steve heard movement to his rear and side. Their path ahead was blocked by a shadow and then a growl. They now stood nearly surrounded by the beasts. Steve wasn’t sure if they were coyotes or just wild dogs, but the danger was the same. He pulled the hunting knife from its side sheath. In the other hand, he clutched the sharpened staff. JD was doing the same. “Back to back, JD. No sudden moves.” He felt the boy’s backpack as he backed up close. The animals were all snarling, and he could see their bared teeth. Find the alpha, came some memory from deep in his past. Hell, I can’t tell which is the leader in the dark. They all look terrifying. His mind raced for a solution as he felt the boy’s trembling turning into outright shaking.

  One of the animals moved in close enough for him to see it was a dog. In fact, it looked like a golden retriever. These were pets, their owners probably weren’t alive or could no longer feed them, so they were reverting back to become pack hunters. Another of the snarling dogs moved in close and snapped. It was a mixed breed, some terrier, and . . . something. It was compact and aggr
essive. Steve kicked out at it, and it went sailing. He heard JD yell and felt him lunge at something behind him. He caught sight of a large muscular brute charging in from the side. The dog was totally silent but had the face of a Rottweiler.

  He could be the lead dog. Steve lowered the long spear just as the dog came into range. The point pierced the animal’s chest with a violent thud. The animal’s retraction tore the shaft from his hands. Howls of pain erupted from the downed animal. The others fled in fear.

  Steve nervously walked over to the writhing animal. It was biting at the wooden spear sticking from its body. JD came up behind him excitedly. “You got him, Mr. Steve.”

  “Just Steve, ok? Keep an eye out for the others.” The dog was losing a lot of blood. The fight was all but gone. Steve saw a collar around its neck, Someone’s pet. As he reached to see if there was a tag, the dog turned toward his hand, not to bite, but to lick it. God, he hated this world. He laid a hand on the deep fur and felt the breathing begin to slow. He felt all the anger, pity, sorrow, everything encapsulated in this one poor suffering animal.

  He petted the animal and scratched behind its ears. The dog gave out a whimper like a puppy. “I have to end its suffering, JD. You may not want to watch.”

  “I know . . . but I probably need to.”

  Steve fought back rage and tears as he slid the knife across the dog’s throat in as quick a motion as possible. The dog spasmed once, then lay still.

  JD looked over his shoulder at the scene. “We going to eat it?”

  “Do you want to eat it?” Steve was taken aback, but deep down, knew it was the right question. He wouldn’t be able to do it, not yet anyway.

  JD looked away. “No, not really. I just know Gerald would have been mad at us for wasting supplies.”

  “It won’t go to waste; his friends will be back. He will be their meal.”

  48

  “The spears worked well against the dogs, but that’s not going to help us with anything more dangerous.”

  “I know, JD,” Steve whispered to try and let the boy know this was not the time. It wasn’t working.

  “I’m just saying, we need guns, dude.”

  Steve looked through the compact binoculars that they found in one of their backpacks. “We had guns if you recall. We never shot them, and in the end, they didn’t help us. Also, they are completely illegal right now.”

  “Who cares? There is no law, and the only reason our guns didn’t help is the bad guys had bigger ones.”

  He had to admit the kid had a point. His traveling companion had been somewhat obsessed with getting weapons since the attack several days earlier. JD didn’t like being scared; it seemed to push him to toughen up. Steve was more interested in avoiding trouble. The old farmhouse ahead was part of that plan. “Still no signs that anyone is there. I think it is abandoned.”

  JD was bored with the surveillance. “We have been watching it all afternoon. Of course, it is empty.”

  “We thought that last time too, remember?” They were within two days of reaching Albany, but they were out of the water and running low on food. Steve was somewhat familiar with the surrounding area and thought the owners of this farm had moved off and listed it for sale. “Ok, I am going to approach the house. You stay here, and if anything happens to me, stay hidden and get away when you can. Do you understand?”

  “Duh, I’m not a retard.”

  “Don’t use that term, please.”

  This was the second house they had surveilled hoping for food or water. The first house had looked abandoned except it wasn’t. Steve had gotten an uneasy feeling someone was inside. After watching it for several hours, they were about to approach when a man walked out with a bat, went into a side yard and swung at a small dog that had been tied to a tree. The wet smack of the bat and the dog’s head had lolled to one side, obviously dead. The man had picked it up by the hind legs and took it back into the house. He was glad JD has not asked what the man was going to do with it. It brought up fresh memories of the Rottweiler. He had had to kill that poor guy; it was survival. But this? Pets for lunch . . . what was next?

  Thankfully, he wasn’t getting that same vibe from this place. Standing up, he dropped his pack beside the boy and walked toward the white, two-story clapboard house. His hands were raised about halfway. Very non-threatening, Steve. We are all just friends here. Twenty feet from the front door he stopped and called out, “Hello, is anyone there? Not looking for trouble, just want some water.”

  Nothing . . . he tried again and got the same, no-response. He stepped up on the front step, a screen door separated him from a small covered porch and a solid wooden door on the opposite side. He knocked on the screen door and asked again if anyone was home. Finally satisfied, he opened the screened door, crossed and knocked loudly on the entry door.

  No sounds came from the other side. Nothing about the house gave any signs of life. Most homes they passed now that had people in them had several obvious signs they were occupied. Clothes drying on a line or tree limbs, refuse, piles of garbage you could smell from a distance and some sort of cooking fires of which the smoke gave away the location during the day, and the fire often did at night. Usually, there were other sounds or sights which revealed the presence of others as well. Not the case here. Steve agreed with JD that it was abandoned, but the rat side of him wanted to make damn sure.

  The door was locked but had a decorative side glass panel on each side of the door. Steve took out his tactical knife and flipped it around, so he was holding the blade. He used the metal knob behind the handgrip to break the pane nearest the doorknob. He knelt, still hidden behind the solid door and listened. Satisfied, he took a glance through the glass—open and very empty rooms were all he saw. He reached through the opening and unlocked the door.

  He opened the door and motioned back for JD to join him. He saw no sign of the boy, but he had told him to hide. Walking into the house, he called out again. “Hello, is anyone there?”

  “Just me,” came a voice from an open room ahead.

  “Shit, JD, don’t do that.”

  “Sorry man, couldn’t help myself. You never checked the back door. It wasn’t even locked.”

  Crap, the boy was right again. “You know, kid, I liked it better before you started talking.”

  JD smiled. “No water, I tried the sink. House looks empty.”

  “Let’s check it out, top to bottom. Make sure it’s safe. If nothing else, we can at least sleep inside tonight.”

  “I can’t believe you are going to do that.”

  Steve filled the water bottle, lifted it to his parched lips and downed most of it. “Aghhhh.”

  “That’s gross,” JD said.

  Steve thought of all the money he had wasted over the years buying bottled water. He had even ordered hundreds of cases with his company’s name on it just to give out to customers looking at cars. Now he was drinking from a toilet. “It’s not from the bowl where the poop goes. This is from the tank. It’s all fresh water, a bit stale, and I probably should boil it, but it’s clean.”

  “This was in Gerald’s notebook?”

  “Yep, one of several ways to find water in unexpected ways. Another would be the hot-water heater. I checked that too. It seems full of water, but I couldn’t get the water valve on the bottom to turn. We need a few tools for stuff like that.” Slowly, the boy’s thirst overcame his disgust, and he began filling his bottles from the back of the toilet as well.

  Dinner that night consisted of the last of the MREs. One was chicken with noodles, and the other was beef brisket. Neither was particularly good or bad. Actually, neither tasted like what they were either, but knowing this was the last of the food made them savor every bite.

  “You have any food at your house?” JD asked.

  “I did. Doubt there is any now. I would assume my wife and son have eaten most everything in our pantry.”

  “You don’t talk about them much.” JD’s statement was neither accusing o
r questioning. He simply stated it as a fact.

  “I know. I’m just not sure what I will find. I have been trying to brace myself for the worst.”

  “You think they’re dead?”

  This kid has no filter. “No . . . maybe, I don’t know. I told you about my son’s condition.” He stared down at his filthy hands, thought briefly of what he was having to do now just to survive. “ . . . I’m just not sure he can make it in this new world. He had a hard enough time in the old one.”

  “My mom is dead.”

  “Huh? That’s terrible. Why would you say that?”

  His shoulders shrugged. “It’s true, I just know. Not sure how to explain it. She ain’t the surviving type. Always had to have a man. One boyfriend after another. They all treated her bad, but she seemed ok with it as long as they didn’t leave. Someone like that, well . . . no way they can make it now.”

  Steve watched as the boy spread some oily peanut butter on a stale cracker and shoved the whole thing in his mouth. Again, he felt the boy was right. It hurt to let go of the niceties of the past, but what mattered now was facts. The truth was most people probably wouldn’t survive. He wasn’t even sure if they themselves would. The lack of electricity was bad, but the possible pandemic was worse, and on top of it all was what the government was doing. Their chances of getting through all this seemed to be diminishing by the day.

  The somber mood was lightened somewhat by having a roof overhead. JD was right on a lot of things. Staying smart was what Gerald called it once. Survival means outthinking death more than anything else. He wanted to survive, and he wanted to get to that cabin as quickly as possible. First, they had to go get his family. “Get some sleep, JD. I may have an idea on how we can speed this trip up some tomorrow.”