Catalyst

by JK Franks

  Gerald rubbed a hand through his thinning hair. “Well, that’s the really bad news. Apparently, the officials are saying there is also a pandemic sweeping through Europe and Asia. The government is saying that they will close these camps if or when it reaches the US. If you aren’t in the camp before that, you won’t be getting any protection or . . . treatment.”

  “That sounds like bull. If they had a treatment it wouldn’t be a pandemic,” Steve said with a tone of disgust.

  “Yeah, that is what the guy on the radio said, too. Just scare tactics. He believes this is some mass depopulation scheme. Hey . . . he’s probably just some conspiracy nut, but—that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s wrong.”

  Steve looked up into a darkening sky, the first few glitters of stars beginning to shine. “God,” he sighed, “I have to get home.”

  “I understand, but that’s not going to be easy. If we can’t travel the roads freely nor go into any major cities, I’m not sure how we can make it. One other thing, this guy did say he talked with someone over near the Georgia-Florida line. Said smaller cities all through South Georgia had been burned. The man said it looked like Sherman had marched through again.” Gerald paused like a doctor about to give bad news to a patient. “Steve, Tifton and Albany were two of the ones he specifically mentioned.”

  “Well, shit. . .”

  They ate several small fish JD caught before heading downriver again the next day. None of the group spoke much. The news from the previous day was weighing on Steve most of all. He had to get home to Trey and his wife. The questions just kept swirling through his head. Will there even be a home anymore? Once he got there, would he even be able to survive? His main thought was that he was leading his new friends into unnecessary dangers. They had decided to stay on the river simply due to the lack of better options. The Chattahoochee ran through the middle of Columbus and its Alabama counterpart Phenix City on the other side. On the southern edge of the city was one of the largest Army bases in the world, Fort Benning.

  Both cities had a bit of a rough and tumble history. The one on the Alabama side, in particular, had a rather sordid past. These were the closest big cities to his home, and Steve knew them well. He recalled a story his father had told of when General George Patton had been stationed at Benning. He had once threatened to roll his tanks across the river into Phenix City and destroy it. Since then, the towns had grown, matured and now possessed beautiful downtowns, colleges, museums and the typical urban sprawl. Steve was hoping that the military presence might still have a calming effect on the area. Deep down, he knew that was just wishful thinking.

  At midday, they had to cross another of the dams. This one was another tall hydroelectric which they had to navigate to one side, then portage the kayaks and supplies up and over to the other side. The descent to the river below was steep and the footing treacherous. “Whoa, let’s stop for a second,” Gerald said. “We are making too much noise, and one of us is going to turn an ankle or worse if we aren’t careful.”

  Steve sighed, released his grip and sagged to the ground. “I could use a break anyway, how ‘bout you, JD?” The boy nodded and set the end he was carrying down as well.

  “Steve, you come up with any better options, or do we stay on the water?” Gerald asked the question while fishing in his packs for something to eat.

  “Options? Hmmm, no, not really. I wish I knew what we were heading into. I have to say again, guys . . . y’all can choose your own path. I don’t want to be making these decisions for everyone.”

  “We know,” Gerald said as he chewed on something. “I think the boy and I will head east once we are below Columbus. JD and I have been talking, and I think he is good staying at my place until things get better. You should only be a few days from home then, an easy walk to Albany.”

  Steve asked, and JD confirmed, that was indeed the plan. “Sounds good, guess we just got to get through the next ten or so miles, then get off this river for good.”

  “Using the river was smart, Steve. I know it didn’t start out so good, but it was a good plan. We’ve not been threatened. Hell, barely saw any other people. Had food and fresh water. Yep, things could have really been a lot worse.”

  The men nodded in agreement. Gerald spoke again, “What do you think you will find?”

  Steve knew what he meant. The same thought kept going through his mind over and over. “What I think I will find is . . . ” he stopped trying to bury the fear, “what I hope is I will find my family safe. Right now, I just pray they are alive. Beyond that, I have no idea.”

  Gerald gave a somber nod. “Porter, if you need, you can always come stay with me and the kid.”

  “Wow, thank you. I really couldn’t, though. I know I must find my own way. I have relied on others my whole life. This time it’s really up to me.”

  The other man just shrugged.

  “Besides, I have no idea where your place even is. You’ve kept those details to yourself, friend.”

  “Not totally,” Gerald said glancing at the youngest member of the group. “Seriously, my place is pretty well stocked and could sustain us all for a while. Next spring, we would have to plant some crops, but it could work. Consider it a standing invite for you and your family. I’ll leave the radio with you when we part ways. I have one at the cabin. I’ll show you how to contact me. Just in case . . . you know.” He winked and stood. “Guess we might as well see what’s down there.”

  40

  They watched the procession from the trees overlooking the four-lane road. Mile after mile of weary stragglers, most with packs or bags, some pulling luggage. Steve thought again how much the scene reminded him of the images from 2016 of Syrian refugees as they fled their war-torn country in a desperate trek toward Europe in some vague hope for safety. These people had that same defeated look. Many were dragging luggage, small children; a few pushed shopping carts.

  JD leaned in close. “There are thousands of them. Are they all going to the camps?”

  Gerald sighed. “I suppose so. Most are probably trying as much to get away from something as get to something. No food, no water, no money or anything to trade. Hell, nothing really out there to trade anything for. The camps may be the only real option most of them have.”

  “Why are they dragging all that stuff? The Army isn’t going to let ‘em bring any of it into the camp.”

  “They probably don’t know that yet, JD. They haven’t seen or heard any of the things we have,” Steve answered. They had left their kayaks hidden in the undergrowth far below. As they approached the bridge, they heard the sounds coming from the mass of people up above. They had decided to climb the steep hill to get a look.

  “Look there,” Gerald whispered as he pointed.

  Steve focused in and saw it, too. “Armed roadblocks at the exits. They aren’t letting anyone head back south toward town.”

  “They aren’t letting anyone back on any of the roads.” He scanned the area with the compact binoculars. “Those don’t look like Army uniforms. They are all black, even a few with gray camo. These must be the FEMA and DHS people your guy on the radio mentioned. Those agencies don’t have troops, do they?”

  Gerald made a sound like a snort. “Essentially, yes. The DHS alone has almost a quarter-of-a-million employees, many of whom are in some form of enforcement.”

  “Holy shit!” Steve muttered. “We’ve lost our country, haven’t we?”

  Gerald eyed JD before answering in a hushed tone. “Afraid so. This is looking more like North Korea than Columbus, Georgia.”

  The three of them sat there for hours watching, but the line of people never seemed to diminish. As the afternoon sun began to dip, they saw small campfires appearing along the road. Soon after, the gunfire started. It was unclear if it was the troops that started it, but they engaged quickly. The shots seemed to be going in all directions. Screams and moans were interspersed with orders being issued over loudspeakers. Several rounds ricocheted off nearby trees.


  “Back to the river,” Gerald ordered.

  The shooting began to lessen as they descended the hill. Once they reached the river’s edge, all they heard was someone on a loudspeaker.

  “This is your only warning! Stay on the highway, keep heading toward the camps. All other travel is prohibited. All firearms are prohibited. Failure to comply will bring immediate consequences. Approaching official vehicles and personnel will be dealt with the same way. These are emergency executive orders.”

  The sound of the broadcast faded, presumably as the speakers’ vehicle traveled farther down the road.

  “What now?” Steve asked.

  “Should we toss the pistols?” JD said looking through his bag.

  “No!” Gerald said. Then in a slightly calmer tone. “If it looks like anyone official is about to stop us, then, yes, toss it. Keep it out of sight but close, we may need it. Steve, we need to keep moving. You know this area better than me—is it safe to be on the river in the dark?”

  Steve shook his head. “No, definitely not. There are numerous rocks and eddies as well as another old dam with a fairly good drop coming up. Below that, they actually have a whitewater course running beside the city’s Riverwalk. We don’t have life vests, and I assume it is too dangerous to use our lights.”

  “Damn . . . we have to do something.” Gerald moved over to the kayak he had been using and slid it back toward the water. I have an idea, but the rat in you is not going to like it.”

  Steve regretted ever telling him about the advice he had gotten back in Charlotte. But indeed, he did not like Gerald’s idea at all.

  “Oh my God, this is so gross.” JD’s voice was muffled, but the complaints were shared by all.

  “Quiet, kid, your slime will get messed up.”

  Gerald’s bright idea was to submerge the kayaks partially, so they didn’t so much ride on top of the water as in it. In the dark water, they looked more like logs floating downstream. Logs without any humans on top as the three of them were hanging onto the sides also mostly submerged. The parts that were exposed were covered in green slime and mud scooped from the bottom of the river. The goal was to present as small a profile as possible. He also figured it would be safer to be able to feel the water hazards coming up in the dark.

  To some degree, Gerald had been right. Steve felt everything in the river, and it all scared him. Fish, limbs, squishy things. It was disgusting, and he was cold on top of it all. The water wasn’t that chilly, but his fear was amplifying the effect of the water. “Hey, Gerald,” he whispered. “I hate you.”

  “Me, too,” came JD’s voice from the darkness in front of Steve.

  “Me, three,” Gerald muttered to himself.

  A few minutes later Steve’s panicky voice came again from the darkness. “Oh man . . . there is the city, looks like it is . . . on fire, too.” They could see silhouettes of taller dark buildings backlit by a red and orange glow. The scene began filling the eastern sky. They watched entranced as previously burned-out buildings and homes passed by. The closer they got, the more fires they saw. Finally breaking the trance, “We should see a bridge coming up, and I think the old dam is right under it, or maybe just before. I only did the whitewater course once . . . sorry.”

  They saw the bridge a few minutes later and began to swim toward the eastern shore. Steve had thought that side was more manageable for bypassing the dangerous drop-off. The water slowed and began eddying back on itself. Debris was circling in small whirlpools. “Yeah, the dam must be a few yards ah . . . fuck, what is that?”

  “What is . . . holy shit.”

  Steve was trying to figure out what was bumping into him just below the surface. Gerald was looking up at the underside of the bridge. JD was simply clutching his end of the kayak and staring straight ahead.

  “It’s a body.”

  “Its lots of bodies.”

  “Huh?” Steve glanced around, panicked. They could hear the sound of the flowing water. He had stopped swimming to the side. “No, it’s . . . ” he pulled on the thing bumping him and realized. It was a body. Stiff and decayed; the skin and meat sloughed off the arm he was holding. “Oh shit,” he vomited as the reality of what he was seeing set in.

  Gerald pointed. “More up there.” Hanging from the bridge were at least two dozen bodies, the flickering firelight casting the bodies into evil apparitions.

  “Some are hung up on the dam, too,” JD said now viciously paddling to keep from colliding with the first of the dark humps ahead.

  “Keep your mouth closed, don’t let any of this water in,” Gerald said as he too began pushing his boat to the side. “No telling what kind of diseases are in here with us.”

  Steve stretched his feet trying to find the river bottom, but it was too deep. He swam with one arm and strong kicks to get to the shore, the other hand holding firmly to the kayak. He could see the darker shadow of the embankment leading up to the bridge above. It seemed to get closer with frustrating slowness. Thankfully, the current pushing them was not strong, but neither wanted to repeat the lessons that first dam had given. And, this one was already encrusted with dead people; how much more fun would that be?

  “Oh, Geeze, they are here, too,” JD said as the front of the boat finally nudged into the bank. “At least parts of them are.”

  Steve could see more of the misshapen lumps on the bank above him and a creepy movement on the shadowed corpses. “What’s that on them?

  “Turtles, rats . . . probably catfish as well on the parts that are still in the water,” Gerald said. “Come on, just get through this, guys. It sucks, but we only get to live by doing this.”

  “That’s a terrible speech, Coach,” JD said as he helped pull the larger boat up on shore.

  “Screw you, kid,” he said with a grunt. “I’m up to my ass in dead bodies, ok?”

  41

  The three of them struggled to pull the water-ladened kayaks up onto the shore. The putrid smell was so strong it seemed to be a physical presence. JD was rubbing his eyes and spitting. “I think it’s in my mouth,” he cried. Steve fought to keep his stomach under control. Even Gerald seemed shaken, but he was the first to recover.

  “Can’t stay here—we’ve made too much noise. Grab your boat and get your shit downstream below the dam.”

  Steve stopped his coughing and grabbed for the handle strap on the kayak. JD did the same. “I’m not getting back in that.”

  He was glad the boy had said it because he felt the same way. The idea of all that death, all those bodies, and having to be in there with them made his skin crawl. He couldn’t do it.

  “Just move for now. We can discuss it when we get there,” Gerald’s voice was labored as he dumped the water from, then hoisted his own kayak from the carnage-riddled ground.

  “Do you think they did this? I . . . I mean did it to themselves?”

  “I dunno, Porter . . . maybe. If so, that’s sick. Probably a few did, but I think most went involuntarily. Somebody probably hung them there as a warning.”

  Steve cocked his head. “A warning?”

  “Yeah. This is our city—stay the fuck out.”

  And we just ignored that completely, Steve thought as he tipped his own kayak and heard the water draining out over the gruesome landscape.

  The sound of powerful water rushing against rock was just one more reason to stay on land. Steve knew by the sound that this was the beginning of the whitewater course. They were all cold, wet and scared. The journey had just come to an abrupt stop, and neither Gerald nor Steve seemed sure what to do next.

  “Guys, I’m sorry. Coming down this river was my stupid idea. We should have taken a safer route.”

  “Cool it, Steve, the river was fast, we made good time . . . or would have if I hadn’t gotten hurt. Besides, traveling any other way would likely have gotten us stopped and herded into one of those damn camps. None of us want that. At least here, we have a fighting chance.”

  Steve appreciated what Gerald was doing but
wasn’t buying it. He felt like an idiot, and he had failed his friends. “So, what do we do?”

  JD’s body shivered violently enough for the other two to notice. Gerald was concerned but knew sitting here accomplished nothing. “We only have two options, leave the boats and try to get through the city on foot or back on the river, but we have to do it now.”

  “There are bodies out there . . . m, more bodies.”

  “I know son,” Gerald offered, “but the people that killed them are on land. The bodies can’t really hurt us, besides, most will have washed way downstream, away from the dam here.”

  They all knew they really had no choice, but the debate still went on. Too late, they realized they had been discovered. They heard sounds of running on the bridge above at the same time flashlight beams stabbed out from the top of the bank behind them.

  “In the water now!” Gerald yelled, already pushing his boat into the river.

  A single gunshot pinged off a rock behind them. Steve grabbed JD and pushed the stunned boy to the front of the kayak. “Hurry, JD!”

  Shots began hitting all around them. Thankfully, the flashlight beams had not centered on them yet, but it was only a matter of time. They managed to get in the kayak only to get immediately picked up by the current and slammed into a boulder. Steve struggled to find his paddle; he briefly glimpsed Gerald’s red kayak as it slipped into the darkness thirty yards ahead. Glancing back, he saw almost a dozen people up on the bridge. The firelight giving just enough illumination to see they each carried weapons, and they all were pointed toward them. More of them were scurrying down the eastern bank and lining the rail of the once pristine Riverwalk. Some carried lights, but all seemed to be shooting. “You motherfuckers better stop or we gonna kill yo ass.”

  The laughter and threats came at them over the rushing water. Steve was disoriented and unable to see any of the obstacles in the river. The only good thing was the boats being dashed back and forth kept the bullets from finding their mark. “Paddle, JD . . . paddle!”