Protocol One

by Jacqueline Druga

  “News conference.” My heart sank to my stomach. They were announcing it. “She said something is different.”

  “What could be different? A comet is coming.”

  ‘Local authorities are urging citizens to remain calm and focused.” The man’s voice said, who was it? It wasn’t the President. “Experts will be releasing important survival information to aid you and your family in making it through this global catastrophe.’

  An eruption of voices, obviously reporters.

  “Dan.”

  “Why did the government wait so long to announce this news?”

  “As you heard, the comet was completely hidden until it started its final approach, then we believed at first it would miss us. After that, no one could give a definitive impact time and point. They were going from one end of the spectrum to the other. We couldn’t prepare until we knew. We are now one hundred percent positive.”

  “But you’ve obviously known longer than today.”

  “If we released the news say last week or the week before, what could have been done? Would you be able to go to the store right now and get bread or water? Gas? No. Essential services and deliveries would have stopped. Instead of focusing on helping people, our military and police would be focusing on riots. Our experts believe families can stock and prepare enough until a central core of the government can return.”

  I looked at Tony. “That’s not going to happen.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Contrary to belief and popular fiction.” The man said. “There is no way to prepare on a grand scale for continuity of life. There is no Noah’s Ark, no way to make one. “

  Another eruption of voices, cameras clicking, and a voice rose above the others asking, ‘What about evacuation?’

  ‘Evacuation of all coastal cities will commence immediately. Experts estimate a hundred miles inland with the exception of the impact site and a one thousand mile radius of it. We are focusing on creating, as best as we can, an orderly mass exodus of Washington and Oregan states, starting with Seattle ….’

  Immediately, I looked at Tony. “Seattle. That’s wrong.”

  “They got the wrong information.”

  “How can they have the wrong information?” I asked. “They’re the government.”

  “Guys,” Jackson said. “Maybe we got the wrong information. I mean, wasn’t the original projection Seattle on August third? That would give us more time, right?”

  I was going to say something, and that was when I noticed traffic flying by us. Cars were honking their horns at us. “Tony, did you slow down?’

  “No they sped up.”

  “Where are they going?”

  “Home.” He said. “Give me your phone.”

  “Where’s yours?”

  “Wrapped in a make shift Faraday in my bag.” He held out his hand.

  I gave him my phone and he began to dial, eyes shifting from the phone to the road.

  “Watch where you’re driving.”

  “I am.” He placed the phone to his ear. “Hey, it’s me,” he said. “Why am I hearing Seattle? Talk to me.”

  I watched his facial expressions. Over the past month I had gotten to know him. Tony always kept his cool but I saw his brow furrow in concern.

  “How can that happen?” He growled. “Well, we’ll find out, won’t we?” He hung up and handed me the phone.

  “Well?” I asked.

  He shuffled in his seat, looked to the rear view mirror, I suppose at his daughter and said. “Good thing I didn’t go north. Seattle. Impact. August first. Seven AM.”

  “What? What happened to Manto, Impact, August first 2 PM our time? That’s a hell of a mistake, a half a world away.”

  Tony repeated, “NASA says Seattle. Impact. Seven AM.”

  I sat back with a feeling of defeat. “We should have been in Germany.”

  “Well, we’re not. If it helps, Puerto Rico is still saying Manto. But then, this isn’t the super bowl and bad predictions in this instance cost lives.”

  “A lot more people in this country will die.”

  “Yeah, well, you can look at the bright side,” Tony said. “A lot more people in the Equator will live. Look, it could have been worse. They could have said it was hitting New York and we would be at the North Bunker now. Right? Lillyville is the best place to be. Granted it is a lot closer than Germany, but its better.”

  “If Puerto Rico is still predicting the Equator, what do you think? Who do you think is right?”

  Tony looked at me as if I were joking.

  “Mom.” Jackson spoke up. “You can't be serious, right? A private facility or NASA? I’m gonna say if they made it public and are evacuating, NASA has it right. Puerto Rico flip flopped the entire time. My only concern is that we lost almost seven hours.”

  I took a moment, got my bearings and lifted my hand. “Ok, we’re gonna be fine. We’ll still make it. We’ll still get to the shelter before impact. We stay the course, stick to the plan and move forward. What else can we do? Right Tony?”

  Tony was focused, and he only partially turned to me and gave me a non verbal answer to my question.

  What else could we do? He replied to that with a slam of his foot on the gas pedal.

  We’d drive faster.

  12 – Melissa’s Gold

  Little Rock, Arkansas

  “I have to go potty,” Joie called from the back of the van.

  Her request brought a break of tension. What I was feeling was unbelievable. My body was tense, hand always extended to the dashboard as if I were holding on for dear life. Traffic went from moving fast, to bottle necking on more occasions than not.

  “In a minute, sweetie,” Tony said then looked at me. “Any word from Melissa?”

  “She’s ready. She has an alternate route mapped. She’s at the trailer, but she said people are rushing to the farm to steal food.”

  “Are you kidding?” Tony said in disbelief. “It’s only been two hours.”

  “Think about it, Tony. If you didn’t know about it, heard it on the news, what would you be doing?”

  Tony nodded. “Rushing to the store or to any place I could get food.”

  “Exactly.” I said. “People are doing what they need to do to survive.” I exhaled. “I just hope they take the time to learn. Knowledge is key.”

  “Yeah, but is it key to surviving when you're not a hundred feet below the surface?”

  “Wow.” I lowered my head. “Way to make me feel guilty.”

  “What? What are you talking about? You feel guilt? You feel guilty because you’re going to live? You can’t feel guilty. Now is not the time for guilt. Now is the time to focus on surviving and you have the means. You leave guilt behind you and keep going. Your son is what is important.”

  “You’re right.”

  “Daddy,” Joie whined. “I really have to go potty.”

  “Sweetie, we’ll be there soon. I really don’t want to stop.”

  I didn’t blame him. In the course of two hours, traffic had increased and the entire feel of life just changed. It changed.

  It went from 'we were the few who knew and were driving with a secret' to 'we were one of the many on a desperate race to get to safe ground.'

  “Daddy …”

  “This is the exit,” I pointed. “Make a right off this exit and the farm is two miles down the road.”

  “Almost there,” Tony looked in the mirror. “We … aw.” He smacked his hand off the wheel. “People this is an ‘off’ exit! What are they doing?”

  Where the exit ahead was jammed with cars trying to cut in on a packed highway with vehicles going faster than they should, drivers had resorted to using the off ramps. Not many, but I guessed it wouldn't be long before it was full as well. We had seen at least a dozen accidents in the short period of time. People were driving erratically and Tony was no exception.

  Joie hollered out another warning of her bathroom needs as Tony cut to the side of the road causing
the van to bounce and his daughter to scream.

  He cringed.

  We made it to the secondary road and were almost at the farm.

  Melissa was specific about when we got to the farm road, we’d come across a ‘Y’ and for us to bear right.

  I saw why when we got there.

  There were people all over the hills, running through the fields. In the small farm store, cars jam packed the lot and a single worker stood outside. He looked frazzled and defeated as people rushed into the store.

  “Daddy, are we almost …” Pause. “Never mind.”

  Jackson laughed. “Dude, your daughter just pissed everywhere back here.”

  I bit my lip, trying not to laugh.

  “I’m sorry,” Tony said. “I am.”

  “For what? Besides, I’m close to joining her,” I said. “You stopped once and that was only long enough to dump a can of gas in the tank. I’ve been wiggling for the last hour.”

  I didn’t know what to expect from Melissa. We had no description. All I knew was she was an agricultural expert. She stood outside a small tin trailer with a large metal briefcase and duffel bag. Next to her luggage were three large orange gas cans. She didn’t look like a scientist. The thickly built woman with short blonde cropped hair looked like a hands on person, wearing jeans and a tee shirt.

  “We’ll make this fast.” Tony said as he pulled up. “Go use her bathroom, I’ll get Joie changed, and Jackson can load her stuff.”

  I nodded in agreement and opened the door.

  “Anna?” Melissa walked up to me. “Hi, I’m Melissa.”

  “I know.” I shook her hand quickly. “Nice to meet you. Do you have a bathroom in there?”

  She barely said ‘yes’ with a point and I flew into that trailer.

  It had a desk and counter. A small table with chairs was by the door and an older woman in her eighties, wearing a scarf and an unseasonal trench coat, held a big giant purse tightly to her chest as she sat in one of the chairs.

  “Bathroom?” I asked.

  She pointed to the small door at the end of the trailer.

  I didn’t think much about the presence of the older woman. I was more focused on using the long overdue facilities. When I emerged, the woman was gone.

  Stepping from the trailer, feeling so much better, I noticed Tony with his arms folded, leaning against the door. He looked … for lack of a better word … perturbed.

  I didn’t see Jackson or Joie. They were probably in the van. Just Melissa and the older woman stood outside.

  “Tony? What’s wrong?”

  After tightening his lips, he lifted a hand, said nothing and continued in his arms crossed pose.

  Nervously, Melissa walked up to me. “It’s me.”

  “What’s going on? Are you not going?” I asked.

  “This …” She pulled the older woman forward. “Is my grandmother. Nelly. She raised me since I was a child.”

  Clueless at that moment, I smiled. “Oh, it’s nice to meet you.” I looked at Melissa. “We have to go. Things are getting crazy.”

  Tony cleared his throat. “That’s the issue.”

  Melissa stuttered. “I … I can’t leave her. I can’t. She’s very healthy, but I can’t leave her.”

  Nelly reached into her trench coat pocket and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it. “I told her to go. I’ll watch the fireworks. I’m fine.”

  “You heard Nelly,” Tony reached for the van door. “She said go.”

  “Tony.” I scolded.

  “Anna,” he replied. “It’s another person.”

  I was hesitant to say it, but I did. “Tony, you brought your daughter.”

  “She’s a child,” Tony defended. “A small child. My child.”

  Melissa barked at Tony. “And she’s my grandmother.”

  “Who is very content to smoke her Pall Malls and watch the world end.” Tony said.

  “Oh my God.” I closed my eyes, slightly embarrassed.

  “I won’t leave her,” Melissa said passionately. “I can’t.”

  “There’s no reason why you should.” I told her. “She can come.”

  “Anna ...” Tony called my name.

  “She comes.” I stated firmly. “There’s plenty of room in the shelter and van. But we have to go....now.”

  Melissa embraced me. “Thank you.”

  Tony opened the side door, giving me a sideways glance. As Nelly struggled to get in, refusing help, Tony held her extra large handbag. “What the hell do you have in here?”

  “Survival supplies,” Nelly answered and climbed in.

  As Tony parted the bag, I peeked over his shoulder. The entire bag was cartons of cigarettes. He returned the bag asking, “Did you bring any clothes?”

  Nelly sat down and took the bag. “I’ll sit naked if I have to as long as I have my Pall Malls.”

  Showing more strength than I thought she had, she shut that van door.

  Tony jumped back.

  “We need to go. We are still ahead of schedule.”

  I got back in the van while Tony filled the tank. We had additional gas and were doing well. Despite the loss of seven hours before impact time, at the rate we were going, we would still arrive before the comet.

  13 – Potter’s Road

  Perryville, MO

  A straight route to St. Louis, under normal circumstances, combined with Speed Racer Tony's driving, would have been five hours. But reports of highway traffic only reconfirmed that we had to take Melissa’s alternate route. She had actual maps, something our culture had completely forgotten how to use.

  We relied so heavily on internet and satellite navigation, we lost the ability to look at a map and spot a side road.

  Not Melissa.

  She had us going good, and when Dr. Craig Milton sent a text saying he had to escape St. Louis, Melissa worked hard on finding another way for us.

  Tony should have listened to her.

  His argument was valid. We were wasting time and gas on the back roads. Melissa countered that sitting in traffic wasted gas as well. She said to stay east as long as possible. Tony wanted to head north.

  Finally after thirty minutes of arguing, they compromised. Choosing a route that wasn’t a highway, but wasn’t a back road.

  That was a mistake.

  At first we didn’t think so. The road was eerily free and clear, and then we were pulled over.

  “I knew it,” I told Tony. “You can’t continuously go eighty in a fifty zone without a cop getting you.”

  “That’s not the cops.”

  Before I could ask who it was, a soldier approached Tony’s window.

  “Evening sir,” the soldier said politely, peering in the window. “I’m gonna have to ask you folks to pull over or you can head into the elementary school a mile up the road to park for the night. ”

  “We’re just heading north to get a friend.”

  “I understand, but there is no northern travel during the curfew. We’re trying to keep all roads clear for evacuation. North is not is an evacuation area.”

  “What if we stay on the road and ignore the curfew?”

  “Then you know we’d have to detain you. That’s a little more complicated than if you just complied.”

  “I was just curious,” Tony said.

  “That’s what I thought,” The soldier replied. Since you do have young ones, can I suggest the elementary school? We have a set up there. It would be a lot safer.”

  “We’ll do that.”

  “Sir, if you get spotted on the road again, we won’t be so easy.”

  “I understand that.”

  “Good luck. God speed.”

  The soldier knocked on the hood and we moved forward.

  Good luck and God Speed. Never did those words have more meaning than they did at that moment.

  We needed all the luck we could get. And God Speed, well, we could only hope.

  We arrived at the elementary school and parked at the far end of the lot
. I started to believe that Tony had some sort of aversion to bathrooms because we were as far away from the portable johns as we could get. It was his way to get out at first light when the curfew was lifted.

  We didn’t have camping supplies or folding chairs. And it was a good thing it was a cooler night, because we could stay in the van.

  There were a lot of cars in the school parking lot. I wondered where they were going. A lot of families. Not a lot of noise or problems. I didn’t think there would be, after all it was a make shift military outpost.

  Just as I was prepared to break out my rations, I realized the military was giving out MRE’s and a bottle of water to everyone. Melissa walked over with me to grab some and help me carry them.

  When we returned from the long trot across the lot, the van door was open. Nelly sat there smoking a cigarette with her legs dangling from the side of the van and a few feet away, a distance from everyone else, Tony made a seat out of Melissa’s large metal case which I learned contained seeds and nutrients packs.

  She took the kids their food while I carried Tony’s and my meal and walked over to him.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “Hey,” Tony lifted his eyes from his phone.

  “MRE?” I held out a package.

  “I was kind of hoping for your homemade rations.”

  “They’re in the van. Want me to get them?”

  “Nah, I will.” Tony scooted over. “Have a seat.”

  I sat down next to him. “Not a fan of MREs?”

  “You could say I had my fill between my service to our country and my latest career.”

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah.” He looked down at the phone. “It's just that we lost more hours. We are now cutting it close and if we have to stop for the night tomorrow, we aren’t making it to the shelter before the comet hits.”

  “I know. How long until we get there?”

  “If the gas holds out. If we don’t have to walk. If the EMP doesn’t destroy the van. Two hours post impact, at the latest. My guys are getting things ready. They’ll be ready for us.”

  “Two hours isn’t bad. We should still be all right. Remember it has to make it to us. If blast winds are five hundred miles an hour, we have five hours till they hit, that sort of thing.”