by Joe Russell
Neil’s body was a different issue. They didn’t really have the means to bury him, either, and probably wouldn’t want to for the same legal reasons. However, Dave knew it wasn’t right to leave his body out for the animals, and figured it would be easier on Rachel if they didn’t. Given their limited resources, Sandra came up with the best idea, and they had followed it. Mike and Dave had carried Neil’s body as reverently as they could back around the cabin, and placed it in the backseat of the Jeep. Since it wasn’t running, it was of no use for them as a source of transportation, and it would keep the animals of the forest from devouring the body, at least for a time. They had performed the grisly task, said a prayer for him and paid their respects, then closed the back door like a coffin lid in the makeshift funeral service. Rachel had cried the whole time, but not in an uncontrolled way. Weeping was a better word, and all of them, especially Sandra, did their best to console their new friend.
Now that the action was over, Dave was becoming more aware of his exhaustion by the minute, and he struggled with thinking of what to do next. He wanted to sleep, but knew that they needed to keep moving. Although it had only been a day since all hell had broken loose, having to survive and do what they had done with no law to assist them, made the concept of needing to get to civilization immediately to report what had happened seem a little silly. Of course, the law had to know what happened; it’s not like they were going to try to keep it a secret. As gruesome as the day had been, the blood was on the hands of those who had lost it, save Neil. He knew, or hoped anyway, that even in the unpredictable eyes of the law, the group would not be held responsible for any wrongdoing. They were nothing but a group of innocent people, minding their own business and trying to get out and enjoy nature and each other's company, until two groups of people with wicked intentions had decided to prey on them. Or try to, at least. One thing at a time, Dave thought. The sooner they got off this mountain and to the closest ranger station or police department, the better this would be for them. Plus, he doubted that the girls really wanted to resume their trip as if nothing had happened anyway.
There was something else bothering him, though. The Jeep was completely dead, and so was Neil’s car, according to Mike. What were the odds of that? It could very well be two independent cases of headlights being left on or doors being cracked by accident, as he was sure happened quite frequently on camping trips where people were using their vehicles in ways that are different from what they were used to. But what if it wasn’t just coincidence? He shook the thought out of his mind. Whatever it was, they would find out soon enough. For multiple reasons, what they needed to do now was get back to where they had parked, and get the hell off this mountain.
“Guys,” he addressed the group softly, knowing it may be tough for Rachel, “I think we need to get moving. We need to get back to the cars and head back to town.”
As if sharing Dave’s concern, all eyes turned to Rachel. Of course, none of them had any reason to want to stay here any longer, and despite exhaustion from the day’s events and emotions, would be anxious to be finished with this camping trip from hell. To all of their relief, Rachel simply sniffed, and replied softly. “Yeah, I know.”
“Once we get to the police, we can come back and, well,” Dave trailed off, unsure of what to say.
“Yeah,” Rachel responded, looking at the ground. “I know we can’t stay here.”
Dave almost added that they would come back for Neil’s body, but decided to just keep his mouth shut. Rachel knew the situation, and he didn’t need to keep talking. They needed to go back to where they had camped the night before and get the rest of their stuff too, but Dave figured that since that would add several hours to their trip back, they would just get it all later. Once they got back to the vehicles, they could always drive most of the way back and collect their cached gear.
“What should we do with this stuff?” Mike asked Dave, holding out the rifle with one hand and motioning to the Sig sticking out of his pocket with the other.
“That is all evidence,” Dave reasoned out loud, with only a hint of sarcasm. Part of him thought that taking weapons that belonged to the people they’d killed would make them look suspicious. However, he also felt weird about leaving guns out here. Unguarded for the next passerby to disappear with, which would probably look even worse than if they had the guns themselves. Plus, the rifle had already been removed from its crime scene.
“Let’s just take them,” he sighed. Something inside of him was telling him to take them. He didn’t know why, but decided to listen to it.
In ten minutes the group was ready to depart, hopefully on the final leg of their journey back with no more excitement. Mike had hiked back up to the boulders where they’d left their backpacks, and Dave circled the area around the cabin to make sure they weren’t leaving anything. At the back of the cabin, he took a long moment to regard the body of the man that he had spared stabbing on the couch, only to be stabbed much more brutally by Jen a few minutes later. The corpse lay still, belly-up in the dying light of the cabin fire, knife handle still sticking out of the side of the head like a bad Halloween decoration. Dave shook his head to himself, debating as to what he should do in this moment which was so surreal, in comparison to a normal day for a normal person. He decided to just leave it, and returned to the driveway where the rest of the group was ready to begin the trek back to the vehicles. Despite what he’d told Rachel and the rest of the group, he didn’t want to ever return to this place, and strangely, had a small feeling that perhaps he wouldn’t.
✽ ✽ ✽
It took most of the rest of night to cover the ground back to the forest road, then east, past where Dave and Sandra had first encountered Billy and Doug, to the easternmost ridge where they had begun their hike. They used flashlights most of the time, the need for light discipline hopefully eliminated with their enemies’ demise. But now, with the clear eastern sky beginning to turn from black to gray, Dave could see down the road to the small gravel parking area where they had left their vehicles. He was relieved, but nervous. Concerns over what was going on with the vehicles they had come across were looming in his mind, but he hadn’t said anything to the others yet. It wouldn’t help, he thought. One thing at a time.
In ten long minutes, they made it to the parking area. It was a cold, gray morning, and Dave was feeling the effects of missing a night of sleep after a very full day, but he was getting an unsettling feeling that it wasn’t quite over. Sandra made a remark about how relieved she was at the sight of the vehicles, but Dave didn’t say anything. As they approached, he slipped off his backpack and retrieved his car keys from a zipper pocket. He held out the remote and pressed the button to unlock the doors of his truck… and nothing happened. Despite his fears that this would be the case, his heart sank. He used the actual key to unlock the door and climb up into the seat, then tried the key in the ignition. Nothing, not even a groaning attempt by the starter. Dave let out a sigh, unsure of how to break the news to his companions, especially after the last twenty-four hours they’d all had.
Reluctant to say anything, Dave looked around to see what others were doing. Mike was watching Jen fish out a hidden key in a magnet box from under the bumper, and Sandra was walking toward him. He kept eye contact with her as she closed the distance. “Babe, can you unlock the back, so we can get our stuff unloaded?”
Behind them, they heard Jen curse, then Mike walked over. “Hey, man,” he said to Dave, “Jen’s car won’t start. Must have left the lights on or something.” He made a face, a degree of realization dawning. “Dude, that’s happened to like every car we’ve come across. What’s with that?”
“Dave,” Sandra said, fear in her voice. “Is this,” she stopped. “Did-”
“Yeah,” Dave answered her attempt at a question. “That’s what it looks like.” He picked up his cell phone from the floor of the truck where he had left it. He squeezed the power button on the side. “I turned this off when we left, and it
had just charged. It should definitely not be dead.” However, the phone did not come on. Sandra swallowed hard.
“What’s going on?” Mike asked. He obviously had no idea whatever it was that Dave and Sandra seemed privy to, but was beginning to recognize there was something to be concerned about. Jen walked up to stand beside Mike, a quizzical look on her face as well. Dave looked at Sandra, sure of himself, but unsure of how to convey what he was thinking. He looked at Mike, then to Jen, then Rachel, who was now standing in the circle around Dave’s truck as well.
He took a deep breath before speaking. “Well, looks like we have a little farther to walk.”
Epilogue
Leesburg, Virginia. Present Day.
Will was almost finished with what he had to do before getting back to enjoying what was left of his weekend. It was beautiful outside, and he was having a hard time focusing. It was Sunday, just after lunch. He turned his attention back from the window to the computer monitor, for what was probably the hundredth time, when the power in the building suddenly cut off. The lights went dark, the AC quit running, and strangely, his computer screen went black. This puzzled him, because only a couple of weeks before, he had purchased and installed a new surge protector for his computer that also had a small battery backup. It was supposed to keep the computer on for half an hour or so, in the event of a power outage. He made a face, irritated that this would happen when he was so close to finishing his project and being able to go home. Now, he didn’t know what to do. It wasn’t that uncommon for the power to flicker off like this for just a few seconds, so he figured he should probably wait a little while before leaving. Fortunately, he had lost one too many hours of work by not saving frequently before similar events in the past, and had developed the habit of saving his work almost obsessively. Therefore, he wasn’t worried about having lost his progress, but only that this would delay him being done as early as he wanted to be. Computers, he thought. Nothing can ever just go smoothly.
He got up and walked to the window. There was his bike in the parking lot all alone, with other cars that weren’t there because it was Sunday, their drivers at home like he ought to be. Traffic was bad today, though. Beyond the parking lot, cars were at a standstill in the road. That’s odd, he thought. Traffic in Leesburg could definitely get thick during rush hour, but not on a Sunday.
With the lights still off and therefore nothing to do inside but wait, he decided to walk outside and see what was causing the unusual traffic patterns. He’d rather be outside anyway. He walked out of the dark office building and into the brilliant early summer sunshine. There weren’t too many people about, but then again, he was on a street that was mostly made up of lawyer’s offices, engineering firms, and other professional commercial businesses that typically weren’t open on Sundays. Still, there was something off; something different. He walked across the parking lot, past his old motorcycle, and toward the street. Cars were at a standstill in the road, something out of his field of vision apparently causing a horrible gridlock that was not usual in Leesburg, at least in this part of town. Curious, and not really wanting to go back inside and continue working even if the power came back on, he kept walking to the street, intent on seeing the cause of such a traffic jam.
He was not expecting what he realized next. As he neared the street, he saw there were several people, presumably drivers and passengers of the cars in the street, just standing around in the road, like they were parking there and trying to decide what to do next. Then, it hit him what was off. There was no sound, at least not the usual sounds one would hear downtown. In fact, it appeared to Will that none of the cars in the street around him seemed to be running, like they had all stalled out where they were now parked. Maybe that’s the reason why everyone is standing around, he thought to himself.
Will started thinking to himself about the situation. Nobody that he could see around him really seemed confident about what was going on, like they were all lost in the situation, unexpectedly out of their element and unsure of what to do next. Will wondered briefly if these cars all mysteriously stalling out had anything to do with the power to his building going off. Then, he looked around, realizing that it didn’t appear that any of the surrounding buildings had power either. In fact, looking up the street to the next intersection, he saw even the traffic light was dead. Then, it hit him. Is this what Dave had been warning him about? He swallowed hard, then fished his phone out of his jeans pocket, hoping to confirm, or refute actually, his fear. His blood ran cold when he hit the power button on his smart phone - which he had just charged that morning - and nothing happened.
He immediately turned and started back to his building with purpose. Dave had told him all about this kind of scenario, and most importantly, the implications it would have on society, especially in urban areas. Leesburg was no city, at least by the standards of people from the city, but it was too populated and too close to the massive population density of Northern Virginia and the greater DC metropolitan area to be considered rural enough to not want to get the hell out of there right away. If this was the effect of an EMP, people might not start starving on the first day, but those stranded in town or on the road away from home might get dangerous in their desperation, especially toward someone who had a working means of transportation, other than feet. He wanted to get out of town long before that began.
Fortunately, Will had made some significant preparations for a situation like this. In the locked file cabinet in his office, where he kept his Kel-Tec KSG, he also had stashed an assortment of goodies he may need in an emergency situation. In his Bronco he kept a folding bicycle, in case his vehicle became disabled for any reason, but that would do him no good now. Hopefully his motorcycle, which had an electric starter but no digital computer controlled components, would still start. He didn’t like the idea of having to walk twenty miles to his home. Getting back to his office, he unlocked the cabinet and began removing items from it, organizing them neatly on his desk. First was the KSG, outfitted with a Magpul vertical grip, a side rail with a weapon light, a Vortex 1x prism scope, and a sling that held fifteen 12 gauge shells in elastic webbing. The rig wasn’t light, especially with its dual tube magazines loaded, but it was pretty heavy firepower for a twenty-six-inch weapon, and Will was a big guy. Other items he removed were a few boxes of Hornady Critical Defense 00 Buckshot, a few MREs, a pair of Merrell hiking boots, a pair of LAPG cargo pants and black T-shirt, some granola bars and other snacks, canned sardines in olive oil, and some satellite map printouts of the area between there and where he lived. He also had the backpack that he carried with him every day; a 5.11 Rush 24 daypack in the black and gray Double Tap color. In it, he kept a water bottle, some more snacks, a Maglite XL50 flashlight with extra AAA batteries, spare magazines for his Glock and extra 9mm ammo, a Leatherman tool, an ESEE 6 knife, some matches, and a small first aid kit. He looked at all his gear spread out on his desk, satisfied that it should be enough to make the trek home, even if he did have to walk.
He repacked his backpack with the items laid out on his desk, along with some more snacks he had at the office. He ate a small meal consisting of some food he didn’t have room for as he worked, and drank plenty of water from the office cooler before filling his water bottles. He changed clothes and boots. He loaded the KSG, filling each tube with 7-2 ¾ inch shells, racking one into the chamber from one of the tubes, then topping it off again. He now had fifteen shells in the weapon, fifteen more on the sling, and thirty-five more in his pack. He pulled his Glock 19 from his concealment holster and verified that the 15 round magazine was topped off and there was one in the chamber before returning it. He looked around his office, trying to think of anything else he may need for his journey home. His diploma hung on the wall, and there were other items scattered about the room that he definitely cared about and didn’t want to part with, but nothing he hadn’t already packed that he really needed now. If Dave was correct, there was a good chance that he wouldn’t ever be return
ing here. If that were the case, he wouldn’t need those items anyway, but he would find out soon enough. For now, however, he couldn’t be bogged down with impractical items that wouldn’t help him escape town and get home. Satisfied that he had everything he would need, he fastened his ESEE knife to his left hip, stashed two spare Glock magazines in his left cargo pocket, and a handful of shotgun shells in his right. The rest were in an outside pocket of his pack. In his left hip pocket, he clipped his flashlight and in the right, his pocket knife. Lastly, he shouldered his pack. He was ready.
Running through his inventory in his mind one last time, he exited the dark office building and locked the door behind him. He looked around cautiously, as if expecting the frantic mobs to descend upon him out of nowhere. He thought of the gear he had on him, and that he had had it at work. Everything but my tin foil hat, he thought. Had listening to Dave made him go too far? The town certainly didn’t appear to be going mad, at least not yet. There were a few more people outside milling about than before, but they weren’t violent in any way. No, he thought. If this is truly what I think it is, what Dave warned me about, it’s only a matter of time, and I need to be long gone when it happens here.
Trying awkwardly to conceal the KSG under his brown leather motorcycle jacket, he made his way across the sparse parking lot to his bike. A nervousness rose in him out of fear that his bike would be dead as well. He mounted the old bike, stuck the key in the ignition, and hit the starter. He let out a sigh of relief when the bike roared to life as if nothing was wrong in the world. His little internal celebration was cut short when a new concern entered his mind. He was always aware of it, but usually didn’t think about the noise the motorcycle made. It was always loud, but now, with most of the usual urban sounds silenced, the bike was like thunder, and he knew it would probably be heard for blocks, maybe half the town. Once he got moving, he would need to keep moving.
