Charges

by Stephen Knight

  “We had cops out front for the first week after the event,” Guardino said. “There was a bit of trouble. Lots of citizens came to the stationhouse for aid we couldn’t give. There was a bit of a riot about to occur, so the cops had guys assigned to us. But now that things are heating up in other parts of the city, we’re kind of on our own.”

  “You guys don’t have any firearms?” Vincenzo asked.

  The fireman all looked at each other, as if uncomfortable with the question.

  “Well, we’re not exactly authorized for that kind of equipment,” Guardino said.

  “So that means no one knows you have anything,” Vincenzo said with a smile. “Your secret is safe with me, guys.”

  “We do have the ability to take additional protective measures,” Guardino said, “though we really hope we don’t have to do that. We’re about saving lives, not taking them.”

  “I understand.”

  “You see any trouble out on the road?” Lonnie asked.

  “A bit.”

  “You mind giving us a rundown on what you’ve seen so far?” Guardino doled out a large helping of lasagna, serving each of the men like a father carving up a turkey for his family.

  Vincenzo told them about his nights in New York and his decision to flee. He described the run-ins he’d had, including the death of the black man who had attacked him on the George Washington Bridge. That story raised some eyebrows.

  “Pardon me for saying so, Tony, but you don’t exactly look like the killing machine type,” Lonnie said.

  “I’m not. I just got lucky.”

  He went on to tell them about the Ackermans and their plane flight to Cincinnati. That was a point of interest since none of them had seen a plane or helicopter in the air since the event, not even military aircraft. Vincenzo had no explanation for that, as his experience with airplanes beyond flying in an airliner began and ended with assisting Rob with prop-starting the Piper Cub.

  “But it does seem likely air travel is still possible,” Vincenzo said. “At least on a small scale. Not so sure we’re talking jets and the like, but older propeller planes can definitely still fly. And I’d guess the skies are a lot less crowded now, so even without air traffic control, people should still be able to fly from point A to point B.”

  “That’s encouraging to hear,” Guardino said. He held out his hand. “You know what, I don’t need you anymore. Give me my card back.” When Vincenzo raised an eyebrow, Guardino laughed. “Just kidding, man. How do you like the lasagna, huh? It’s the best frozen chow city money could buy.”

  “It’s great. Really, it is.” While Vincenzo was certain his mother’s homemade lasagna wouldn’t be threatened, the slab of cheese and pasta before him was definitely flavorful and filling. After so many days on the road, eating previously frozen lasagna in a firehouse was like walking into a five-star Italian restaurant and having a five-course meal.

  “You see any sign of the government getting in on the act?” one of the firemen asked.

  “No, not really. I saw some National Guard in Jersey, but that was just a couple of days ago. I didn’t see anything like it in New York, that’s for sure. The city tried to set up aid stations, but they were picked clean on the first day. Then there were riots. I saw dead bodies on the first day everything went to hell.” Vincenzo considered what he’d just said then shook his head. “It unraveled really, really fast.”

  “It’s because gutless liberals don’t have what it takes to work,” one of the firemen said. “Fucking pansies need everything handed to them on a silver platter. Heaven forbid some of the special snowflakes out there have to do something for themselves for once, or maybe show some backbone and suck it up when things hit bottom.”

  “I’m sure there are just as many conservatives helping themselves to whatever they can get,” Vincenzo said.

  The fireman snorted. “And I’ll bet you soup to nuts that conservatives are better prepared for this kind of situation than the lefties any day of the week.”

  “You may be right about that. I don’t know any different.” Thank God these guys don’t know my voting record.

  “Yeah, well, politics aren’t really all that important anymore,” Guardino said. He refilled his tall glass with iced tea. The ice tinkled as he stirred, a sound Vincenzo didn’t think he’d be hearing again so soon. “America’s going to pull through this just fine. It’s going to take a lot of work, but we’ll get it done. We know what we need to do. We just have to get organized and get it done.”

  “Yeah, first we need to lay about ten million miles of new electric cabling, then we can get back to work. Right?” Lonnie asked.

  “Didn’t say it was going to be easy, Lonnie,” Guardino said. “But if airplanes can still fly, and if the diesel generators and trucks and the like can still run, then we’ve got an edge. But we have a hell of a lot of work to do before winter.”

  “Is there any plan in place for Allentown?” Vincenzo asked.

  “There’s a natural gas power plant in Bethlehem that they’re hoping to get operational in a month or so,” Guardino said, “so at least there will be some power available. I’ve heard line crews are out all over the state, and the Guard is backing up the state police in providing security. Here in Allentown, we have some power generation capability, but it’s all offline right now. Mostly from garbage incineration, believe it or not.” He smiled. “Well, at least there’s enough fuel lying around to bring it all back online when the time comes.”

  “How long will it take to rewire the city?” Vincenzo asked. “Or is that a stupid question?”

  “Weeks and weeks, if not months,” Guardino said. “According to the briefings I’ve been in on with the local office for emergency management, there’s some cable stock that wasn’t fried by the event, but most of it’s been turned into slag. It needs to be repaired or something, though I don’t know how they’re going to be able to do that. And I don’t know how they’d be able to get replacement stock any time soon.”

  “So there hasn’t been any official word from the government?” Vincenzo asked.

  “Sure there has, the same prerecorded bullshit message that’s been playing every hour on the hour over the emergency broadcast system, most of which went down for the count, too,” Lonnie said. “The president says the government is activating all federal resources and that citizens should contact their local governments for up-to-date location of FEMA assistance centers, stuff like that.”

  “And this Army base, Fort Indiantown Gap, has something like that going on?” Vincenzo asked.

  Guardino nodded as he chewed a mouthful of lasagna. “Yeah, and it’s right off the highway. Easy to get to, but it’s got to be a popular place by now.”

  Vincenzo tried to recall his route. He knew there were stretches where he’d have to mount the interstates, and he thought that Indiantown Gap on the way. If he was right, then he wouldn’t have to deviate from his path to stop by and check things out. “What about these highwaymen you guys mentioned?”

  “More speculation than anything else right now,” Lonnie said. “We heard it from the cops, who heard it from the staties. Most of the info is second- or thirdhand, but it’s probably not entirely unreliable, if you get what I mean.”

  “I do.”

  Guardino sipped some tea and looked across the table at Vincenzo. “You armed, Tony?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Because you just can’t be too prepared these days. Even an old lady could gun down a young buck if the opportunity was there and the payoff was right. Keep that in the back of your mind. Don’t trust anyone.”

  “I don’t,” Vincenzo said. He smiled. “But I trust you guys.”

  The firemen laughed.

  Vincenzo’s quarters for the night were in a fire department pickup truck that wouldn’t start. He spread his sleeping bag out in the truck’s bed after brushing his teeth in the pale glow of secondary lights powered by the generator. The three-bay garage was tepidly illuminated as
well, but there was more than enough light to see by, and he got himself squared away quickly. Guardino had told him that the generator would be powered down by ten o’clock and wouldn’t come on again until eight the next morning. The guys would leave before then, and if Vincenzo wanted to take another shower, he was out of luck.

  It was humid and a bit stuffy in the garage, but he didn’t mind. No one was going to be able to break through the metal doors without him knowing it, and the firehouse seemed quite secure compared to camping outdoors. If sleeping in the truck was roughing it, then he could do it all week long.

  He ensured his pack and pistol were close at hand then stripped down to his underwear. He was asleep within three minutes.

  19

  “Up and at ’em, Sleeping Beauty.”

  Vincenzo automatically reached for the Beretta. He raised his head above the truck’s side and saw the fire station captain stepping back, hands held in the air.

  “Whoa there, Hoss. I come in peace,” Guardino said.

  Vincenzo relaxed. “Sorry. I was in a really deep sleep. What time is it?”

  “Five thirty. We’re making some breakfast on the Coleman stove. Pre-mixed pancakes and some bacon, if there’s any left. You in?”

  Vincenzo nodded. “I’m in.”

  “All right. Change out of your Underoos and get packed up. We’ll be rolling out of here at six thirty.” With that, the captain turned and walked back into the lounge.

  Vincenzo pulled his clothes on and checked his hiking pack. It hadn’t been tampered with during the night, but he hadn’t expected that it would have been. He slid the Beretta back into its holster and tucked it under his T-shirt after rolling up his sleeping bag and stowing it. Finally, he slipped on his boots and laced them up. Popping his cap onto his head, Vincenzo was ready to take another few steps toward California.

  Breakfast was rudimentary but still light years ahead of what he usually had. Hot pancakes, margarine, maple syrup, and coffee—lots and lots of coffee. Vincenzo felt as if he were eating the firemen out of house and home and all because he’d won Guardino’s favor by promising to attempt to contact his daughter. He hoped it wouldn’t be necessary. Everyone in the firehouse hoped that some remarkable recoveries would be made in the short term and the gulfs between families could be sewn shut, or at least reduced. Vincenzo doubted that was in the cards, but he wouldn’t be bitter if it actually came to pass.

  “All right, let’s get moving,” Guardino said after breakfast. “I have a meeting at a fire station in the sixth ward, and I’m supposed to pick up a few cases of MREs that are being transferred to us.”

  “Ready when you are,” Vincenzo said, getting up to follow him out.

  Guardino and Vincenzo mounted the ATV while another fireman pulled on a chain that raised one of the garage bay doors. It looked as though the day was going to be bright and sunny, which caused Vincenzo to groan inwardly. Sunlight meant heat, which would be accompanied by humidity.

  Guardino drove the ATV like a kid riding an Enduro dirt bike, whipping through the streets at a high rate of speed. The wind blast almost ripped the cap right off Vincenzo’s head, but he managed to grab it before it flew away. He was glad he’d lashed his hiking pack and walking stick to the ATV’s bed with bungee cords.

  “Hey, where’s the fire, Captain?” he asked.

  “Fire, my ass. You realize how many people would want to steal this thing?” Guardino said. “You think Allentown is full of God-fearing Amish and people who stand around farting potpourri? We’re in crime central, and it doesn’t get any better once we cross over into the next ward.”

  “You’ve had trouble before? Someone try to jack your ATV?”

  “Not yet, but I’ve seen the looks,” Guardino said. “Summer’s just starting, and when things get really hot and there’s no relief in sight, people are going to get stir crazy.”

  “Now you tell me!”

  Guardino laughed. “You’ll be long gone before things go all the way to hell, Tony. The rest of us ain’t so lucky.”

  “You going to stick it out?”

  “I’ll be the last man standing,” Guardino said. “Got nothing else to do, nowhere else to go.”

  “Keep the ATV. It might come in handy.”

  “Already on my mind, pal. Already on my mind.”

  They raced across a bridge over the Lehigh River, and on the other side, the terrain became decidedly more urban. To their left was what looked like a garbage dump, and it certainly smelled like one. Tractors were already at work, piling the mountains of trash higher and deeper. Farther on, there was a factory of some sort. The sign indicated it was a structural steel company. A billboard proclaimed that tonight’s Cash 5 jackpot was nothing—the sign was electronic, and with no power, there was no award amount available.

  Guardino saw Vincenzo looking at it and snorted. “With my luck, I probably have the winning ticket in my pocket,” he said. “Well, at least I’ll have something to light a fire with when the weather turns cold.”

  They ripped through the streets, maneuvering around stalled cars and clumps of garbage bags or people standing around and watching the ATV. The little vehicle’s engine noise certainly attracted a lot of attention, and Vincenzo could see why Guardino was nervous. It wouldn’t take a lot for someone to try to jack him over, though during one banking turn, something shifted beneath Vincenzo’s feet. He looked down and saw a black composite stock sticking out from under the seat. Guardino had brought the shotgun he hadn’t wanted to admit to last night.

  “Hey, you never know when some twelve gauge might come in handy,” the fireman said.

  “Damn straight.”

  The trip ended when Guardino pulled into the driveway of another fire station. The building had apparently been under construction when the event hit, for one third of the driveway was missing with only flattened earth and sand inside a boxed frame. Three firemen stepped out of the station as soon as the ATV came to a halt.

  Guardino cut the engine and set the parking brake. “Okay, end of the line for me. You know where you are? The road we took is Route 1022. You said that’s the road you were planning on traveling down, right?”

  “That’s it. How far are we from your station?”

  “About five miles.” Guardino pointed down the street. “You’ll be going right through the middle of Allentown. Not all of it’s going to be pretty. We have a fairly high population of poor here, lots of Latinos, lots of blacks. A bunch of them have a gang mentality about them. You any good with your gun?”

  “I’m not Dirty Harry, but I know how to use it.”

  “Don’t be afraid to if you have to. Blast the living shit out of anyone who gets in your way. Anyway, about ten miles out, you’ll come across the interchange with Interstate 78. You’ll be pretty far outside the city by then, out where the farm lands start. The Gap is right off 78, maybe two days out. You make it there, check in with the Guard and see what’s going on. Mention us over here in Allentown. We could use a security presence, not to mention ten of everything else they might have.”

  “You think the highway’s safe?”

  Guardino snorted as the three firemen walked over to the ATV. “Tony, you make it through Allentown, you’ll be able to take on anything you might find on the interstate. Trust me.”

  “Hey, who’s this?” one of the newcomers asked, looking at Vincenzo with concerned eyes.

  “Just a pal who I gave a lift,” Guardino said. “Don’t worry about him. He’s hoofing it from here. You got my daughter’s address, Tony?”

  Vincenzo patted his shirt pocket. “Right here, Captain. Don’t worry about that. If I make it, I’ll look her up for you.”

  “Good man.” Guardino extended his hand, and Vincenzo shook it. “Thanks for the help. I appreciate it. My wife would say the same, but she’s at her mother’s house in Bethlehem with her sister and her kids. Maybe one day you can meet her. She makes a mean Hungarian goulash.”

  “I’ll look forward to it,�
�� Vincenzo said. He dismounted and nodded to the three firemen standing as he reached back for his walking stick. “You guys all stay safe.”

  “Same to you, Tony. Same to you,” Guardino said.

  The trip through Allentown wasn’t as bad as Guardino had warned it might be. The city wasn’t in great shape, and there were definite signs of looting—every liquor store had been broken into, save for those with barred windows and doors—but those were mostly islands of distress on an otherwise unremarkable sea. For the most part, the people of Allentown seemed to be holding things together... at least during the day. The criminals, predators, and lowlifes would hold reign during the dark hours, when they could pretty much do as they pleased.

  As Vincenzo walked through town, people tried to delay him, asking him questions about where he’d been, where he was going, and what life was like outside of Allentown. He answered on the move, never stopping. He always carried the walking stick in his left hand, his right never far from the pistol concealed beneath his T-shirt. The day was hot and humid, and the urban landscape offered little in the way of shade. Whenever possible, he would seek a few minutes of rest beneath the canopy of a tree or in the shadow of a building. He would drink then relieve himself as far out of sight of others as he could. He had one particularly frightening moment when he was peeing behind a fetid dumpster in an alley only to find a homeless man was watching him from amidst the stinking garbage pile.

  “Stay safe,” the man said. “Lie down in garbage.”

  Vincenzo finished pissing, zipped up, and got the hell out of there.

  He walked past a Chevrolet dealership that had suffered at the hands of vandals. Most of the cars and trucks in the lot had been defaced or damage, tires slashed, windshields shattered. A Walgreens drug store across the street had been looted, all its windows gone, the glass lying in the parking lot like a scattering of diamonds glistening in the sunlight. Farther down the street was a bicycle shop, and Vincenzo paused to look inside. The windows were gone there as well, and the interior smelled like urine and feces. There were bike parts but no bikes.