by Bruno Miller
Black smoke poured from one of the store windows on the other end of the complex. He wondered if people had smashed the windows or maybe the shock waves from the blast. They were much closer now to the location of the last detonation they had seen, although they were probably still pretty far away from ground zero.
The valley opened up here in town as it ran toward the New Mexico border and did not provide the protection of the mountains to buffer the blast. The shopping center looked abandoned except for a few cars in the parking lot, and there was trash and what looked like napkins scattered around on the sidewalk in front of the store. It wasn’t like he expected to see the normal morning crowd of cyclists with their bikes lined up out front and a full parking lot of cars, but he wasn’t expecting it to look like this after only one day either. He thought he would have at least seen someone by now. They hadn’t seen another person since they left the house this morning, but it was still early. Maybe yesterday had been as hard on everybody else as it had been on them. Maybe people were just staying in and keeping to themselves, at least that’s what he hoped. Maybe people had left town, but where would they go and how would they get there? The roads were mostly clear except for the occasional cars and trucks stranded in the road, abandoned by their drivers where they stopped running.
The most unsettling thing though was the burned-down houses and buildings they drove past. Some were still fully engulfed in flames while others were little more than smoldering piles of rubble. There were a lot of power lines down and scorched transformers. A massive power surge must have rolled through after the bombs went off. Maybe that had overloaded the circuits and caused a lot of the fires.
The further they drove into town, the more Ben realized how grateful he was that they were in a remote area tucked away in the mountains. It must have been complete pandemonium here when the bombs went off. Hundreds, if not thousands, of people must have died in Durango alone. The sound of sirens and emergency vehicles was expectedly absent, but the eerie silence sent chills up his spine, nonetheless.
Up ahead, a large delivery truck that had been making its early morning rounds had swerved out of control and run into a building, blocking the entire road just after Eighth Street. Ben slowed down to make the turn onto Eighth Street and get around the roadblock. As they passed the jackknifed truck, they couldn’t help but notice the slumped over body of the driver in the seat. The front windshield had a red stain over the steering wheel where it had been smashed by the driver’s head upon impact, the front of the truck was buried in the building, bricks covering most of the hood from where they had peeled off in a sheet on impact. Ben made the right turn quickly and sped up a little, trying to put it behind them. Trying to minimize the visual for Joel’s sake.
They were close now, only a few blocks to go. With a heavy sigh, Ben watched as the buildings and environment seemed to deteriorate rapidly as they got closer to the downtown area and his store.
Pulling onto Main Street, he saw the shops that hadn’t sustained damage from fire or vehicles had been vandalized and looted. The situation wasn’t looking good. They passed a small Whole Foods store. Both of the front shop windows were broken out and glass was scattered all over the sidewalk. The store looked like it had been ransacked and was now just empty shelves and broken displays.
Ben’s heart sunk as he wondered if his store had suffered the same fate.
“It’s a little rougher looking than I thought it was gonna be.” Ben frowned.
“I can’t believe how bad it is.” Joel glanced around wide-eyed and mouth open, trying to take it all in.
The condition of the streets rivaled some of those Ben had seen in so many of the unstable third world countries he had been to.
“Hard to accept that it fell apart this fast. I didn’t expect things to go south this quickly,” Ben said. “I wonder if some of this started prior to the attack, maybe they had some kind of warning. I mean it’s only been a day.”
“Do you think the store is trashed like these places?” Joel looked at his dad.
“I don’t know, but assuming the worst, even if they took everything from the front of the store, I still have a lot of stuff locked up in the back.”
Ben’s place was one of the smaller shops on Main Street, so he kept a majority of his stock in the back storeroom and mostly just displayed one or two of an item for sale in the storefront. This left plenty of room for a customer to try out the flex of a new fly rod by dry casting or to open up a tent on the floor to help make that sale.
A few years back, Ben’s shop had been broken into and vandalized. The thieves had taken a lot of the high-end gear right out of the storeroom where he had the bulk of his inventory. They had backed up to the large roll-up overhead door at the rear of the store in the alley and taken advantage of the neatly boxed items in bulk in the back of the store.
Insurance had covered the loss, but hadn’t softened the sting of being violated in such a brazen manner. Ben had decided to invest in a better security system that included a two-hour rated fireproof steel door between the storefront and the back stockroom. In addition to that, he’d added a secondary locking system to the rear roll-up overhead door and the smaller man door next to it.
With any luck Ben’s security improvements to the store would prove to be worth every penny today.
Chapter Twelve
“Okay, here’s the plan.” Ben leaned in slightly towards Joel. “I’m going to drive by the front of the store and see what we’re dealing with first, but then I’ll pull down the alley to the rear. I want to get that big roll-up door open and back the truck in far enough to close the door and get out of sight. I’m pretty sure I can get the truck in there, if I angle it a little.”
Ben knew it would be a tight fit but was worth the effort to conceal themselves from prying eyes.
“What do you need me to do?” Joel asked.
“I’m not sure yet, but keep your head on a swivel,” Ben said sternly.
“Yes, sir.” Joel breathed deeply and straightened up in his seat a little.
Ben, satisfied that he had Joel’s attention and that his head was in the game, proceeded steadily down Main Street.
His worst fears materialized as he saw years of hard work reduced to shattered glass and broken displays. One of the glass counter display cases that made up his checkout area was tipped over, its contents of knives, watches and various other outdoor gadgets were long gone. Nothing left but broken parts and pieces of what had once been a source of pride for Ben. Choking back his anger for those responsible for the vandalism, he tried to stay focused. He could see to the back of the shop, and the rear door was still closed and appeared intact.
“Animals!” Ben muttered.
Joel looked at his Dad and then back to the store without saying a word.
“Let’s hope the back was spared.” Ben turned the wheel sharply pointing the truck down the side street and then into the alleyway that ran behind the row of stores along Main Street. Each shop had its own dumpster in the alley making the alley artificially narrow at each dumpster so it was only wide enough for one vehicle to pass by at a time. As they passed the row of evenly spaced dumpsters on Joel’s side of the truck, Ben drove slowly, inspecting each one as they went by.
“I’m just being cautious, don’t want any surprises.” Ben sensed Joel’s gaze on him. To Ben, the dumpsters looked like the perfect place from which to launch an ambush in the narrow alley and his good sense wouldn’t allow him to ignore it.
Joel nodded his head.
“The back of the shop looks like it’s in good shape,” Joel said as the truck came to a stop just past the door.
“I still want you to sit tight for a minute while I make sure it’s all clear. In fact, why don’t you slide over into the driver’s side and get ready to back it in when I open the big door.” Ben looked at Joel. “You’ll have to back in at an angle. Otherwise, she won’t fit.”
“I got it, Dad. I can handle it.” Joel slid over
the console into the driver’s seat as Ben got out of the truck.
“I know you can, buddy. Keep an eye on both ends of the alley, okay? And one other thing—” Ben hesitated, thinking.
“What?” Joel questioned.
“Put a round in the chamber of your pistol and then put it back on safety before you holster it,” Ben said.
“Okay.” Joel nodded.
Ben hoped he wasn’t coming off as overprotective, but he knew that the Smith & Wesson 9MM that Joel was carrying would disengage the safety automatically after the slide was pulled back and a round was chambered. You had to manually re-engage the safety, otherwise the hammer would remain cocked and ready to fire. The gun had a featherlight trigger pull weight, which was great for accuracy but could be dangerous if holstered with the safety off. Ben knew that Joel was aware of these things and was confident in his ability to handle the gun. However, Ben also knew that if something were to happen, adrenaline would take over, and he didn’t want any accidents.
Ben fished the keys to the rear man door out of his pants pocket and slowly unlocked both locks on the door then quietly slid his keys back into his pocket.
For the second time today he was grateful for his choice of standard mechanical locks. He’d briefly considered electronic locks that had a pushbutton keypad that could even be linked to a smart phone, something the salesman had really tried to sell. In the end though, the electronic locks seemed like more of a liability, and he went with his gut, opting for the more traditional ones.
Ben looked to one end of the alley then to the other, glancing at Joel with a quick nod, he then turned his attention to the doorway. He drew his gun from his waistband then slowly pulled the door open and eased his way in.
He could see the steel door that led to the front of the store and it was definitely closed, but he would proceed with caution nonetheless. Everything seemed to be as he left it in the stockroom. There was a small window in the back wall up high that faced the alley. It wasn’t very big but provided enough light to see.
Ben’s close quarters battle (CQB) training kicked in automatically as he entered the room, clearing his closest corner then running the wall to the cleared corner scanning the room as he went. His Glock mirrored his glances around the room.
Once he reached the door that led to the front, he checked the handle and confirmed that it was still locked.
Lastly, he made his way over to the small employee bathroom and did a quick check inside to make sure it was empty. Satisfied that the room was secure, he unlocked the overhead door and threw the bolts back on both sides of the doorframe.
When raised or lowered too fast, the door made a terrible racket, and Ben had always hated the noise. Today he was extra careful to lift it slowly trying to retain whatever stealthy advantage they had left. When the door was high enough to allow the truck under it he motioned with his hand for Joel to back up. He was pleasantly surprised how quick and precise Joel maneuvered the truck into the building. Ben held his clenched fist up indicating for Joel to stop backing up. He ran around to the front of the truck and checked for clearance. They had inches to spare.
“Nice job!” Ben nodded in approval.
“Thanks,” Joel said.
Ben pulled on the big door and let it down slowly, throwing one of the bolts on the side after it was closed, making sure it couldn’t be opened from the outside.
“How about locking that door for me, Joel?” Ben bobbed his head in the direction of the door that he’d first entered through.
“Got it,” Joel answered.
When Ben heard the satisfying click of the lock, he felt a small sense relief, knowing that they were at least safe inside the building for the time being while they loaded the truck. Halfway there, he thought to himself. Well, almost, I guess.
He hadn’t figured on stopping by Allie’s house. It was against his better judgment to deviate from the plan and, at first, he had regretted telling Joel they could check on them. But, he’d seen the way Joel’s expression had changed when he brought her name up, and Ben hadn’t had the heart to tell him no. In fact, he’d suggested it in an attempt to capitalize on Joel’s improved mood and to take his mind off Brian. It was the first sign of life he’d seen in his son’s eyes in a while and he didn’t want to squash that. He knew how hard this must be for Joel, especially after being forced to come to terms with the loss of Brian like that. He wasn’t exactly sure what they would do if they managed to find Allie and her mother, but they would just have to cross that bridge when they got to it. He just hoped that they were both okay for Joel’s sake. He would hate to see his son get hurt again like that today.
Joel lowered the tailgate and opened up the back of the truck while Ben surveyed the tall metal shelves lining the walls filled with boxes of gear.
“So, what are we taking with us?” Joel scooted himself up onto the tailgate and sat down, legs dangling off the back.
“Concentrate on food for now. Let’s take all of those Wise company emergency food tubs.” Ben pointed to a pallet on the floor.
Joel pushed himself up and off the tailgate with his hands and was at the pallet in two long steps. He began to pull at the cellophane shipping wrap that enveloped the white tubs stacked two high on the pallet.
“Stack them neatly. We’re limited on space,” Ben stressed.
“I will.” Joel rolled his eyes and got to work.
Each square plastic container held 104 servings. They were popular with the backpackers because they were lightweight and only required the addition of water to rehydrate in about fifteen minutes. It was no five-star meal, but it was far more nutritional than canned goods and they were lucky to have them. There were eighteen containers in all, and if Ben’s memory served him right there were a couple more canisters back at the house. They would have enough food for months. Maybe they could leave one of the tubs with Joel’s friend Allie and her mom if they needed it.
“Here you go.” Ben threw Joel his pocketknife. “Keep it. I’ll grab another one.”
Joel grinned and flicked open the 3.5” Spyderco G-10 blade and made quick work of the thick plastic wrap. He closed the blade, and he admired the knife for a second, rubbing his thumb over the shield and small banner engraved on the handle that read, RANGER 75th RGT.
“Really?” Joel grinned at his Dad.
“Sure, consider it yours. Now quit fooling around and get back to work,” Ben teased.
Joel shook his head, laughing as he began lugging the tubs to the truck two at a time. Ben was glad to see the old Joel, even if it was just for a moment.
The dehydrated food would take up a lot of room in the truck but was well worth the space, maybe they should transfer the individual food packets into bags so they would pack better. Later, he thought, at the house. Don’t want to be here any longer than necessary.
“Better grab some of those large duffel bags too, buddy. I’ll focus on gear while you get that stuff loaded up.”
Fortunately Ben had completed doing his big spring inventory a couple weeks ago and just finished restocking pretty much everything in the store the day before their fishing trip. This was the routine every year in anticipation of the summer tourist season.
There would be no tourist season this year in Durango, or anywhere for that matter, Ben thought. Not for a long time to come.
Chapter Thirteen
Before Ben grabbed himself a replacement knife, he pulled the tactical rifle case with the AR-15 inside from under the rear seat. Wanting to make sure it didn’t get covered, he slid it between the passenger’s seat and the center console for the time being.
Turning his attention to the shelves behind him and a box with a Spyderco label on it, he pulled out a smaller box and unceremoniously pulled a new knife out of its case. He opened it immediately and zipped it across the top of a box full of headlamps. He grabbed several with his hands, took a step toward the truck and tossed them into the back.
He repeated this process with the box of k
nives, and just about every other box on the shelves. Methodically, he made his way around the room taking a few of some things and all he had of others, like the replacement filters for the water purifier. Fighting his urge to grab it all, he tried to be conscientious of the steadily dwindling space they had remaining in the truck.
“Now what?” Joel stuffed the last of six heavy duty canvas duffel bags alongside the cube of white tubs he had built in the back of the truck.
“Pretty much anything you think we’ll need. Even if we already have it at the house, it doesn’t hurt to have backup. You never know. How about extra fuel canisters for the stove? Might as well grab a few extra stoves while you’re next to them,” Ben suggested.
The Titanium Ultra-Light camp stoves were made to handle a small pot. It was ideal for two people and small enough to fit in the palm of your hand.
Most of the items Ben carried in his store were made for backpacking and backcountry camping. Everything was designed to be as small and as lightweight as possible for extended backcountry trips. This allowed them the benefit of getting a lot of ‘bang for the buck,’ as Ben would call it, out of the space in the truck. They would be set up for a long time and wouldn’t have to worry about provisions too much on the way to Ocean City if they were conservative. If the roads were anything like what they had seen so far, it would be a long trip. But they should have enough. Worst case scenario, they would have to do a little hunting and fishing to make it last, but they would definitely have to pack the truck below the window line. He didn’t want to advertise their abundance of resources and good fortune. That type of thing could get you into a lot of trouble fast.
Ben stepped back, contemplating as he glanced back and forth from the loaded down truck to the remaining boxes on the shelves to see if there was anything else they should grab or try to fit into the truck.
