“Glad to meet you, Tony. Let’s walk over, shall we? We have a lot, but it’s not going to last. Turnout’s going to be fantastic.”
Will led the way to the serving line, which was actually quite orderly despite all the kids. Most of the people who saw them initially frowned upon observing Vincenzo then brightened when they saw Will. Many of them called him by name, and the young deacon cheerfully returned their greetings.
When they got to the end of the line, Will gestured at Vincenzo’s packs. “Do you want to put those down for a while? Take the load off?”
“No, no. Not to sound like an ingrate or anything, but I need everything I’ve got. If something goes missing, that’s going to be a problem for me at some point.”
“Well, I doubt anyone’s going to be helping themselves to your gear. But if you did lose something, couldn’t you just pick up a replacement somewhere down the line? Once the lights come back on?”
Vincenzo shrugged. “Well, yeah. Maybe. If the lights do come on.”
“Trust in God, Tony. Trust in God. Tell me, are you a Baptist?”
“I’m a Catholic, actually. Should I step out of line?”
Will laughed as if that was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. “No, no need for that!” he chortled as they stepped forward. The line was moving at a sedate but steady pace. “We don’t discriminate against any religion or order here. We’re all brothers and sisters in the eyes of the Lord.”
“Okay. Good to know.” The recurring invocations of the Almighty made him feel a little uncomfortable, mainly because the last time he’d been in a church was for his unborn child’s funeral. Also, his attendance record in the previous two decades hadn’t been anything remotely approaching stellar. He hadn’t gone to church regularly since leaving New York the first time, and he was fairly certain he wouldn’t be dropping in on any services during his trip home.
“So where are you from, and where are you headed?” Will asked.
“Well, I’m from New York, both originally and recently. And I’m on my way to Los Angeles.”
Will’s eyes widened with surprise. “Seriously?”
Vincenzo shuffled forward a few steps. “Seriously.”
“Wow. I’ll bet you’re even more interested in the power coming back on than the rest of us are. Why are you heading to LA?”
“My family’s there. I moved back here to start a new job, and they were going to follow me out in the next few days. Obviously, that’s not going to happen. Thank God the movers hadn’t arrived yet.”
Will clucked his tongue. “Well, you’ll get on fine. How are things in New York? We’ve had some people walk through here, and they tell us things started to go bad quickly.”
Vincenzo thought of the man he’d killed. “Yeah, it’s not going to get any better. The Big Apple might not be around for much longer. At least, not the city I knew.”
“Sounds like things are going to get worse before they get better, then.”
“You got that right.” Vincenzo scanned the crowd again. He couldn’t believe he had suddenly grown so uncomfortable to being around people. Previously, he had thrived in social settings, initiating deals, sealing deals, making contacts, and just general networking. But he had developed an entirely different outlook. Being around people meant that he was vulnerable, that others could dictate what happened to him and, just as importantly, the meager belongings he possessed. You’re going to have to find a way to deal with it, man.
Most of the people were obviously locals, but some transients were in the pack, folks with backpacks and other gear. A man with a mountain bike towing a trailer rolled up and surveyed the scene from the street. The guy’s eyes were unreadable behind a pair of sunglasses, and his face was cast in shadow from his helmet. All the travelers had the same kind of body language, tense, as if they expected things to go to shit in a heartbeat. Vincenzo felt the same way. There were a lot of people around, and if they had malicious intent, setting up a temporary kitchen was the perfect way to draw people in.
But he didn’t get that vibe from Will. And as he drew nearer to the serving tables, all he saw were hard-working people trying to make the best of difficult circumstances. Vincenzo was flummoxed by that. Didn’t they know what was going to happen? In a matter of days, the neighborhood would be overrun with people fleeing New York and other larger surrounding cities. Resources would be consumed by greedy hordes as mindless as zombies. All they would think about was filling their bellies and providing for their families.
“Will, have you heard any news about the rest of the country?” Vincenzo asked.
“Actually, yes. Well, third-hand news. One of the parishioners has a radio.”
Vincenzo was surprised. “What, you mean like a CB radio? Ham radio?”
Will laughed. “No, nothing that elaborate. Just some windup radio. He’s a bit of a survivalist.” Will shot him a loopy smile, as if to say he knew such a thing sounded crazy. “He had this little radio in a microwave out in his garage. After the effects of the solar flare passed, he brought it out and turned it on. The government was broadcasting messages from the White House. Apparently, FEMA is going into action, and they’re going to mobilize support centers to all the major cities.” He slapped Vincenzo on the shoulder good-naturedly. “See, you left New York too early!”
“What else did they say on the radio?”
“So far, that’s all. The message was prerecorded, and the parishioner keeps the radio in his microwave. He’s afraid another blast from the sun would destroy it. He only brings it out at night. He says there’s less of a chance of something happening to it when it’s nighttime, something about the state being on the other side of the planet, opposite the sun.”
Vincenzo shrugged. He remembered it was night when the lights had gone out, so he didn’t think the time of day would really matter. Whatever charged particles had hit the planet had done their job pretty much right off the bat, as far as he could tell. But if what Will told him was true, then it was interesting that the radio had survived the effects of the corona discharge just from being placed in a microwave. That meant the government might actually have some tricks left up its sleeve.
Great, but you still had to get out of New York.
He was happy to accept a serving of pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, and hot coffee. Will led him to a small folding table where a petite, fresh-faced young woman in a bright sundress was waiting.
“Tony, meet my wife, Vivian,” Will said. “Vivvy, meet Tony. He’s from New York, and he’s passing through on his way to Los Angeles, of all places.”
“Wow! That sounds like a trip. How are you feeling, Tony? Good to meet you.” She extended her hand.
“Hello.” Vincenzo set his plate down on the table and held up his somewhat grimy hands. “Um, listen, my hands aren’t exactly suitable for shaking—”
Will laughed. “Vivvy’s tougher than she looks, Tony. Take it from me!”
“Well, one second.” Vincenzo pulled his knapsack around and reached inside for the packet of sanitary wipes. He used one to wipe his hands, cleaning off as much of the grime as he could. They wound up still a bit south of spick and span, but he felt they were clean enough to shake a dainty church lady’s hand. “Happy to meet you, ma’am,” he said, shaking hands with her.
“Won’t you have a seat?” Vivian said brightly, indicating one of the folding chairs beside the card table. Her wedding band and the rather large diamond in the matching engagement ring on her left hand sparkled in the sunshine.
“Thank you.” Vincenzo shrugged off his packs—Wow, that feels good—and sat down. Getting off his feet was divine, and for a brief instant, he considered rediscovering religion.
“So how are things in New York?” Vivian asked.
“Not so great, which is one of the reasons I left.”
“Oh? What other reasons did you have?”
“His family, of course,” Will said. “Let’s say grace and eat, all right, sweetie?”
&nb
sp; Vivian smiled. “Of course.”
She and Will bowed their heads and closed their eyes. Vincenzo lowered his head as well but kept his eyes open, staring at the meal in front of him. It was absolutely mouthwatering, even if it was somewhat pedestrian. I guess all those weekend breakfasts at Morandi are over with, now.
Will cleared his throat. “Father, we thank thee for the night and for the pleasant morning light. For rest and food and loving care, and all that makes the day so fair. Help us to do the things we should, to be to others kind and good, in all we do, in all we say, to grow more loving every day. Amen.”
“Amen,” Vincenzo and Vivian echoed.
“Okay, let’s dig in!” Will picked up his plastic knife and fork and went at his breakfast.
While Vincenzo had never been a huge egg fan, the scrambled eggs tasted delightful, and the pancakes were heavenly. The bacon and coffee were a godsend, and he couldn’t believe how much he’d missed them over the past several days. Despite the heat of the sun, the humidity, and the flies that buzzed around the table, he found the breakfast to be incredibly enjoyable. Don’t get used to it, he told himself.
“So, Tony, are you actually going to try to walk all the way to Los Angeles?” Vivian asked.
“If there aren’t any planes, trains, or automobiles, then yeah. I’ll have to.”
“But there are some cars still running,” Vivian said. “The police have some.”
“What, you mean like motorcycles and ATVs? I’ve seen some of those. From the way people react, they’re pretty rare.”
“Actually, the police have a couple of classic cars and trucks,” Will said. “The chief has an older pickup from the seventies that still runs, and another officer has an old Bronco. That’s what they’re using now for patrol. And a few folks here in town have cars that still run—older, restored cars they used to bring to auto shows and the like.”
Vincenzo nodded. “Makes sense. Anything without an electronic ignition should be all right.”
“Well, this will all be over soon, if what we hear is true,” Vivian said. “FEMA is going to be setting up in the area over the next few days, and the state is going to be calling up the National Guard. It won’t be long until things are back to normal.”
Vincenzo pulled off his cap and ran a hand through his sweat-matted hair. “Well, I hope you’re right, but I’m going to go on pretending that things are in the hopper for the long term.”
Vivian pouted, and her bright green eyes flickered in the morning light. “Why would you say that? You need to stay upbeat, Tony!”
“Ah, honey, Tony’s seen some bad things in New York,” Will said. He smiled at Vincenzo. “Vivvy’s a diehard optimist. I don’t doubt what she’s saying, but we haven’t seen what you have.”
Vivian harrumphed. “Well, that’s New York, of course.”
“I’m not the only one who’s left the city,” Vincenzo said. “When I came across the bridge yesterday, there were at least ten thousand people with me. As things get worse, more folks will try to leave. And the predators are out in force. They’ll be following along, taking whatever they want.”
“The police will stop them,” Vivian said.
“And take a look around, Tony,” Will added. “We’re not entirely defenseless. I don’t approve of it personally, but a lot of folks are openly carrying guns right now.”
“I see that,” Vincenzo said, “but I don’t know how much of a difference that’s going to make, especially once the winter season sets in. How many people are really prepared to rough it through a long, cold winter? One percent, maybe? And Jersey is a big gun-control state, right? Just like New York and California and Connecticut. There are a lot fewer weapons here, which means there’s a lot less deterrent. I hear what you’re saying about the police, but what happens if the government really can’t help in the long term? How long before the cops fade away? Not because they want to, but because they have to?”
Vivian clucked her tongue. “So much doom and gloom! Really, Tony, you need to let God take over for a while. He’ll sort everything out.”
Vincenzo picked up his coffee cup. “I sure hope so.”
Will laughed. “Wow, you really are a lapsed Catholic!”
Vincenzo only smiled and went back to his meal. He didn’t want to ruin the day for Will and his wife. They seemed perfectly content to put their heads in the sand and pretend everything was going to be fine. And he was perfectly content to let them think that way. In another few days, Will and Vivian and the rest of the holy rollers might get wise, or they might get a very unwelcome wakeup call from the hordes that would be marching into their idyllic neighborhood. He thought of the young boy down the street, still waiting for his father. Things would be tough for him, especially if his neighbor didn’t step up. So he listened to Will and Vivian chatter away, nodding and making agreeable noises when he had to. But soon after he finished his breakfast and found a bottle of water to wash down some more Tylenol, he was ready to go.
“Folks, thank you immensely for your hospitality, but I have to get back on the road,” he said, standing and reaching for his packs. “I appreciate you making me feel welcome.”
“Do you have to leave so soon?” Vivian said. “We still have lunch and dinner. The church is putting out everything.”
Vincenzo swung into his backpack then draped the knapsack’s strap over his shoulder. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ve got a long trip ahead of me. The sooner I get back to it, the sooner it’ll be over.”
“You think you have a chance of getting to LA before winter sets in?” Will asked. “You’re headed for some tough territory, and just in case the power doesn’t come back on…”
Vincenzo shrugged. “If I can get through the higher elevations before September, I should be okay.”
“We’ll pray for you,” Vivian said, rising with Will.
“And I’ll pray for you guys. Remember, a lot of people are going to be heading this way. Not all of them are going to be nice, and they probably won’t let you know that until the very last second. So keep your guard up.”
Will laughed. “You make it sound like all of Harlem is coming.”
Vincenzo considered that. “And maybe they are. But I want you to remember one thing: a man with starving or sick kids will do anything. Anything. Keep that in mind.” From the corner of his eye, he saw several other travelers getting up and heading back to the street. He would have company on the road, something he didn’t look forward to, but there was no way around it. Everyone was moving while the weather held.
“I hope you’re wrong about that,” Will said.
“Yeah, me too. But don’t count on it.” Vincenzo nodded again. “Thank you. And good luck.”
13
A few miles away, the road changed names again, from Degraw Avenue to East Main Street. The residential neighborhoods were slowly falling behind as he marched into an area a sign proclaimed Oscar E. Olsen Park. More people were milling about, lounging on the grass, and making use of whatever services they could find there. A small presence of state police were on duty, providing security for the small aid station that had been set up to dispense water and give first-aid treatment.
Vincenzo didn’t like being caught in a crowd. It made him tense, waiting for someone to attack him or to try to take his packs. But no one did. He smelled barbeque cooking, and off to his left, kids played softball in a field while a group of parents worked over several grills. Vincenzo wasn’t hungry, but he thought some barbeque might hit the spot. But he would have to leave the road and head over to see if anyone was in a giving mood, and that wasn’t happening.
The steel plank bridge that extended over the Hackensack River was a crowded affair as well, as hundreds of anglers had descended upon the span to try their luck. Some had hauled in eels, perch, and even sizeable striped bass. Vincenzo had never been much of a fisherman, but he had fished in Long Island Sound and, on rare occasions, the Atlantic. He found it encouraging that people were able to lan
d some decent fish, and he wondered if he should look for a small rod. He thought back to the TV commercials he had seen in the early 1980s that featured such a device, something he’d always thought was pretty stupid even back then. The Pocket Fisherman, that’s what it was. Could come in handy now, huh?
As he crossed the bridge, the heat of the sun beat down on him. He was sweating heavily, and the time was about right to take in some more water. It took him roughly five minutes to cross the three-hundred-foot span, and on the way, he noticed more people were picking their way across a railroad bridge several hundred feet to the south. Some boats were in the water, including a few with small outboard engines that puttered along. For an instant, Vincenzo almost allowed himself to be lulled into thinking that, maybe, things weren’t as dire as he thought they were.
Then he noticed the columns of black smoke rising into the air from somewhere around Teterboro. And he remembered the man who wanted to murder him on the GWB. That dispelled any fanciful notions he might have developed of finding a safe place to hunker down and wait for the lights to come back on. It wasn’t going to happen.
He reached a split in the lanes. In the center of a grassy median stood a blue sign that read:
WELCOME TO
HACKENSACK
Established 1693
Vincenzo took cover in the lee of a large building on the left side of the road and crouched to retrieve a bottle of water from his knapsack. He cracked it open and drank slowly. He was a little worried about the water situation. While he had more than enough for the moment, it wasn’t going to last for long as he traveled through the early summer heat. He figured he could make it last another three days, then he’d be up shit creek without a paddle.
He pulled out his map and checked his route. He would need to deviate to the south to Court Street before he resumed walking in a more easterly direction, picking up on Essex Street. He would avoid the more built-up sections of town and roughly parallel what he thought was another residential community. Once he made it to the Interstate 80 overpass, he’d change course once more, again turning south and walking along the eastern edge of the Riverside Cemetery.
Charges Page 13
