Charges

by Stephen Knight

  A man sitting in the next wagon said, “Go get yourself a spot in a hot metal trailer, if you want to go to Fort Indiantown Gap. Go be a slave for your stupid president and his politicians. Give them everything you have, and they’ll take even more.”

  Vincenzo watched the small caravan plod past. He wondered what that was all about, but the Amish didn’t seem to want to stay and talk about it. Sweating in the afternoon sun, he took a long drink from the Hydro Flask.

  He kept going.

  Vincenzo made it to the outskirts of Fort Indiantown Gap by five thirty. As he walked down the highway, signs began to appear, informing travelers that the National Guard Training Center was open to refugees seeking short- and long-term aid. They stated that individuals in need should contact the personnel manning the checkpoint on I-78 and announce their desire to come into the camp.

  The signs didn’t mention anything about property confiscation, as the Amish had insisted the government had done to them. In fact, there were no meaningful details of any kind. Vincenzo decided that was neither good nor bad, since whatever in-processing had to be done was unlikely to be simple, especially where the military was involved. Like most people in the entertainment business, he had a very confused opinion about the military. He had respect for their service, of course, but he also had a general sense that anyone who would put on a uniform every day and do stuff people told them to do just because they could was an idiot. Basically, he and a lot of his crowd believed that only the dregs of society would enlist in the Army. He wasn’t sure he actually knew anyone who had served in the military. Then again, he didn’t really know anyone who had voted for George W. Bush, and the man had been a two-term president, so that probably didn’t mean a lot.

  He slowed when he saw the checkpoint, which turned out be nothing more than a series of trucks and several tents that had been raised in the grassy median where I-78 joined I-81. The highway opened up to three lanes in each direction, and there were plenty of stalled cars and trucks everywhere. Garbage was strewn across the interstate, and intermixed with it were shiny shell casings and patches of dried blood. The Guard must have seen a bit of action in the days since the event had occurred. The evidence of violence made Vincenzo uneasy, but he reminded himself that he had shot a man earlier that day.

  Perhaps a dozen soldiers were there, backed up by uniformed Pennsylvania State Police in rumpled gray uniforms. He watched the policemen interview a pair of travelers, writing down information on a clipboard. After a moment, one of the police nodded to the Guardsmen, and two of them came forward and took the couple’s hiking gear. The soldiers emptied their bags and began separating items into plastic bins in the back of one of the trucks. They didn’t label the gear in any way, which meant it was being confiscated. There took a weapon too, though he was too far away to see what it was other than some sort of rifle.

  The male half of the couple seemed a bit distressed, but he didn’t protest. Once their goods were separated and their empty hiking packs tossed into one of the trucks, the pair was led toward one of the tents. The man went into one, the woman into another. Vincenzo figured it was for some sort of examination.

  Okay, Tony. What are you going to do? He decided he would at least check it out. He headed toward the checkpoint, his walking stick clanking on the cement as he wound his way through the dead traffic. The police and Guardsmen watched him approach, and once he was inside of twenty yards, one of the police held up a hand.

  “Good afternoon, sir. Are you armed?”

  Vincenzo stopped. “Why do you ask?”

  The policeman pointed at him. “Because I see the outline of a pistol beneath your shirt, sir.”

  Vincenzo looked down. The butt of his Beretta was clearly outlined through his sweat-drenched T-shirt. “Well, I guess I am.”

  “Before you come any closer, sir, you need to remove your weapon and unload it. You should also be aware that you’re under sniper surveillance and that any aggressive action on your part will be met with direct action.”

  Vincenzo looked around. The area was fairly heavily forested, and there were many places a sniper—or snipers—could be concealed. “I’m not going to do anything when I’m outgunned and outnumbered. You can count on that.”

  “Sorry, sir. We don’t count on anything other than you disarming yourself. If you want to continue coming forward, you need to clear your weapon.”

  “Tell me what’s going on here.”

  “The federal government, in conjunction with the National Guard and the state of Pennsylvania, have set up a support center in Fort Indiantown Gap. The Federal Emergency Management Administration is providing goods and essential services at the direction of the president. Basic amenities are provided free of charge, as well as emergency family, medical, and dental care. The facility is secured by the National Guard, so your protection is guaranteed.” The policeman nodded toward Vincenzo again. “But before you can take advantage of these offerings, you need to disarm yourself.”

  “That includes the big stick you’re carrying,” the other policeman said.

  “What happens to my gun and my gear?” Vincenzo asked.

  “The supplies we have on site aren’t unlimited, sir,” the first policeman said. “In order to participate, you’ll have to surrender your possessions. Any goods that can be used to further support displaced persons will be directed to where they can do the most good. This includes things such as water, food, and medical supplies, excepting prescription medication that is for your use only.”

  “So you’re going to confiscate all of my stuff?”

  “We’ll be redistributing whatever might be useful and ensuring it gets to those who are in a greater state of need, sir.”

  “And what about my pistol?”

  “Your pistol will be confiscated, sir. Firearms are not allowed on the property.”

  “If I choose to leave, will I get it back?”

  The policeman took a moment to respond. “All personal property will be either returned or replaced with an equivalent item, sir.”

  Vincenzo grunted. The momentary hesitation told him that the cop was either lying or didn’t exactly believe what he was saying himself.

  “What about transportation? I need to get all the way to Los Angeles. Can the government help with that?”

  The two cops exchanged looks. “Uh, Los Angeles? No, sir, I don’t think we can help you out with that at this level. The national transportation system has been severely compromised. We have some local assets that can provide limited transportation but nothing headed outside of the state.”

  “All right. Is there a chance I could get transportation to the state line? Anywhere headed west?”

  “I can’t answer that for you, sir. You’d have to come in and try to make those arrangements with either FEMA or the National Guard.”

  “Which means I’d need to hand over all my stuff.”

  The policeman nodded. “Yes, sir. You would need to comply with all of our requests in order to proceed past this point.”

  Vincenzo cocked his head. “So you’d actually impound my personal property, just to allow me to take advantage of some of the facilities my tax dollars helped pay for?”

  Before the policeman could reply, one of the Guardsman snapped, “You don’t get something for nothing, buddy. No free lunch here. You either sacrifice something for the common good, or enjoy your walk back to California. You’ll have to find a different route, though, because we own this stretch of the highway, and you’re not passing through unless you do as you’re told.”

  “I met some Amish who told me the Guard had taken their land and possessions, homes, stuff like that. That true?”

  “We’re exercising the government’s eminent domain rights where we need to. It was approved last week, part of the emergency powers declaration mandated by Washington. Don’t like it? We’re not interested.”

  There was still plenty of daylight left, and Vincenzo was tired of standing in the afternoon sunli
ght. No one was being particularly helpful, and nothing he had heard seemed to be enough to give up what little he had. As far as he was concerned, there wasn’t a lot of difference between what Fort Indiantown Gap offered versus what the highwaymen lurking in the area would do to him if they ever caught him.

  “Thanks,” Vincenzo said then turned left and walked across the median toward the other side of the highway.

  He marched through the grass and stepped over the short guardrail that separated the travel lanes from the median. He didn’t break stride as he mounted the highway and crossed the three lanes then merged into the line of trees on the other side of the far shoulder.

  The detour took Vincenzo down some back country roads. Farm houses and corn fields made up the majority of the landscape. In front of one two-story house, a man was pushing a manual mower across the front lawn. A younger man and two smaller boys were tending to the flower beds, while a middle-aged woman watched from the shade of the wrap-around porch. A shotgun leaned against the railing beside her. A series of handwritten signs were set up on the property line: TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT.

  Vincenzo nodded to the woman as he walked past, and she inclined her head, but her face remained blank. The street was clean and not apparently all that well-traveled, making it look like a still frame of life before the event. He actually started to enjoy the walk. In the distance, he heard the sound of a running engine. It was most likely a generator, which told him that for some people, the event didn’t matter a whole lot. Life went on, and for the first time in decades, farmers were probably going to be some of the most important people on the planet.

  Farming... another skill you don’t have, paisan.

  Occasionally, he saw another person or family tending to their home or their fields. No one approached him, but a few waved, and Vincenzo returned the greetings in kind. He made sure to keep the front of his T-shirt over the Beretta. He didn’t want people to know he was armed, though he got the impression that the folks around there wouldn’t freak out over it.

  A few miles down the road, he heard another droning noise that was definitely a vehicle engine. A minute later, a red and white tractor lumbered around the curve ahead, rolling toward him on oversized tires at a speed of about twenty miles an hour. A thin-faced man sat inside the enclosed cabin, the windows rolled down. He regarded Vincenzo through the bird-shit-streaked glass, and Vincenzo waved.

  The driver stopped beside him. The engine rattled as it idled in the warm early evening. He leaned out of the window. “Hey, there. You come from the Gap?”

  “Sort of. I didn’t like their offer.”

  “Oh? What was that?”

  “Give them everything I had, and maybe they’d help me out.”

  The narrow-faced man pursed his lips. “Huh. Sorry to hear about that. The Gap’s been a pretty good neighbor over the years. But I guess they have to be careful. Lots of bad folks are out there along the good ones, so they have to do what they need to do. They actually said they would take your stuff?”

  “Basically. I met some Amish who said they’d taken their land. Orchards, stuff like that.”

  The man nodded. “That was probably Carl Danchekker. His family tends to a pretty sizeable apple orchard, and they’re right between the Gap and the game preserve. Wow, that’s not something I’m happy to hear about. How long ago was this?”

  “Just today, maybe around two o’clock,” Vincenzo said. “Hey, is Route 22 down this road?”

  “Yep. Only about a fifth of a mile away.”

  “And how about...” Vincenzo struggled to remember the name of the road he wanted. “Ah, Johnson Road?”

  “Jonestown Road, you must mean. About a half mile away. Cross over 22 and head down Yingst Road. It’ll take you right to Jonestown. You know someone in the area?”

  Vincenzo shook his head. “Nope. Just traveling through. Things secure around here?”

  “So long as you stay off the major highways, things seem to be all right. Can’t say it’s any more or less safe than before the event, but if you keep your nose clean, you’ll be all right. Most people around here aren’t looking for trouble, but if it comes calling, they’ll take care of it mighty quick. You understand what I’m saying?”

  “I got you. I’m not the kind of guy to cause any aggravation.”

  The man nodded. “Well, all right, then. Too bad we didn’t meet earlier. I could’ve given you a ride down to 22, but I’m on my way back home now. Sorry, I don’t really have an unlimited supply of diesel.”

  Vincenzo smiled. “Hey, it’s no problem. Thanks for the chat.”

  Vincenzo made it to Jonestown Road without incident. Squinting against the brightness of the setting sun, he pulled his cap down low on his brow. He smelled cooking food from some houses, and his stomach grumbled, but he kept on walking. There were other people out on the road, a couple of fellow travelers and some locals. One couple with a young boy nodded as they passed him, walking a large white dog that strained against the leash to get to Vincenzo. The dog was big enough to bite his head off, so Vincenzo just nodded back and kept his distance.

  After another few miles, his knee began to complain, along with his feet. He’d probably walked almost twenty miles that day. It was almost eight o’clock, and there was still plenty of light, but he was seriously flagging. There weren’t many stands of trees in the area, as it had become mostly farmland again. Much of that land was fenced off, and Vincenzo didn’t want to trespass. He doubted that would be looked on very kindly. A bit down the street, a thin line of trees stood on a patch of land diagonally across from a volunteer fire station. He didn’t see any signs of activity inside. The trees were most likely on private property, but there was no driveway and no sign of a residence. Continuing to walk was pretty much out of the question, so Vincenzo walked into the trees.

  There was a fairly wide space on the other side between another row of trees, and beyond that next row lay a bean field. He shrugged off his pack near a broad bush. While the cover wasn’t perfect, the trees offered enough concealment to prevent him from being easily seen from the road. He wasn’t planning on lighting any fires, so it should be sufficient.

  He used his entrenching tool to dig another cat hole then spread out his sleeping bag. The ground was dry enough that he didn’t need to use the tarp, but he had it available just in case a surprise storm popped up. The skies were clear, and the cloud banks on the horizon were sparse. The sunset was going to be gorgeous.

  He fixed a meal consisting of a can of tuna fish with a squeeze bag of mayonnaise mixed in, all courtesy of the Ackermans. He ate quickly then wiped out the can with a napkin then rinsed it with a little water. He’d read somewhere that cans could be valuable resources on the road.

  Gravel crunched on the other side of the screen of trees. The Beretta was in his hand immediately, and a surge of adrenaline lit up his veins as images of the day’s earlier gunfight sprang to mind. Through gaps in the branches, he caught glimpses of movement on the street as someone slowly walked past. Dry-mouthed and sweating, Vincenzo sat completely still for several minutes after the person left the area. Once he felt safe enough to move, he slid the pistol back into its holster and took a drink from the Hydra Flask.

  The events of the day played out in his mind as if he were watching a show at a drive-in from a block away. It didn’t seem real, but it had all happened. A man had shot at him, trying to kill him. He had fired back with the same intent, and he had actually succeeded. He had been involved in a gunfight, and almost two weeks ago, he had killed a man with his bare hands. The nation was sliding into the abyss, and the man he had helped put in the office of the president was apparently giving the government the thumbs-up to strip people of their possessions, even food and weapons necessary for survival.

  It was crazy, and it wasn’t getting any better. Crazy was the new normal.

  He stretched on out his sleeping bag, the Beretta close by. He stared at the sky as it slowly darkened beneath twilight’s inex
orable advance. A half moon hovered above the horizon. California seemed just as far away, and he feared for Jessie and Ben. They were surrounded by millions more people in the Los Angeles basin than he was in the backwaters of Pennsylvania.

  Despite the dread such a thought engendered, Vincenzo fell into a deep sleep as the stars began to come out overhead.

  23

  As Vincenzo tracked toward Harrisburg, leaving the farmland behind, he entered the residential suburbs that surrounded the river city. Several neighborhoods had organized and taken matters of security into their own hands. Roadblocks were set up, preventing any unauthorized visits. At first, Vincenzo avoided them by trekking down different streets, but he soon found that too many communities had come to the same conclusion: the only way to survive was to stem the flow of travelers.

  Vincenzo finally had to turn south, away from his intended route. That left him frustrated and concerned. His supplies were diminishing, especially the water. He had two bottles left, and then he would be digging into his Datrex. While that was why he had it, the bags were also the last supply he had. Finding a new water source was going to be a primary directive soon, and with the summer heat intensifying, that would be one of the more difficult things to manage.

  However, avoiding Harrisburg turned out to be a possible blessing. Plumes of black, oily smoke rose on the horizon, and he wondered if the riverside city was on fire, much as New York had been. Whether the fire had been started by accident or from lawlessness, he had no idea. All he knew was that he probably wasn’t going to want to head in that direction. He would need to find another river crossing.

  His map wasn’t sufficiently detailed to provide a lot of specifics with regards to alternate routes. Rob Ackerman had taken his more substantial maps with him, and Vincenzo hadn’t even thought to ask him if he really needed them, since he would be flying into known territory while Vincenzo was virtually traveling by the seat of his pants.