by Kyle Pratt
In red letters across the bottom of the sign it red, “No checks or credit cards.” His gaze returned to the bus itself. It appeared to have been painted with anything that was available at the moment. Colors ranged from red to green and black. In some places it was a single color while other parts were painted with flowers and trees. Noticing the cracked windshield and at least one bald tire, he was certain the bus would never pass a DOT inspection, but he was also sure no one was bothering with inspections now. Caden had ridden similar buses while overseas in the army, but had never seen such a thing in America.
“I’ve died and gone to Woodstock.”
The voice came from behind him. In one swift motion he turned, saw it was Maria and shot to his feet.
Still in his arms Adam screamed.
Maria embraced them both.
“I was worried I wouldn’t see you again,” he said.
“I was worried too,” she replied.
“I thought you might blame me for your arrest?”
Her face registered both compassion and amusement. “Why would I do that?” She looked at the bus. “Is the bus heading toward your home?”
“Yes,” he nodded. “I have to stop in Olympia on the way and talk to Governor Monroe, but we should be home in a few hours.”
“Good. I’m beginning to feel like a gypsy.” She moved toward the bus and stopped. “Do we have $130?”
“No.” Caden rummaged through his bag and pulled out a silver dollar. “I really didn’t want to use a silver dollar for a bus ride but…well, we need the ride.”
The driver climbed onboard and started the engine.
Caden again smelled french-fries as he and Maria boarded the bus and sat in the only space available, the bench seat right behind the driver. With a shudder, the vehicle pulled away from the curb.
As the bus entered a deserted freeway, Maria asked, “How far is it to Olympia?”
“Where you going in Olympia?” the driver asked over his shoulder.
“The capitol building,” Caden replied.
“The capitol? That’s surrounded by the military.”
Maria sighed.
“It’s about 18 miles,” the driver continued as he weaved around two burned-out cars.
Holding on to the bar with one hand and the baby with the other Maria asked, “Are the regular buses not running?”
“You not from around here?”
“We recently flew into JBLM,” Caden replied.
“Oh,” he nodded. “Things started falling apart with the D.C. blast. Many people left Seattle, Tacoma and the suburbs for anywhere else, but most things continued to work until the Seattle blast. Then everyone who had stayed tried to leave—all at once.” The driver turned almost sideways in his seat. “From what I hear, power and water are mostly down in Seattle and Tacoma and the only people left are police, the military, gangs and victims. Olympia is relatively okay, but stores are sold out of most everything. What is left is either rationed or in short supply. When the buses stopped running a couple of days ago we started using our old bus to make a little money. Notice how there are no cars on the freeway.”
Caden nodded.
“No gas. Civilians can’t buy it at any price.”
“Where do you get the gas to run the bus?”
“You can modify a diesel engine to run on just about anything—even used cooking oil.” With one hand on the wheel he turned almost completely around. A broad grin spread across his face. “Smell that french-fry aroma? That’s what this is running on.”
Maria cocked her head to the side. “french-fries?”
“No,” he waved his free hand. “The vegetable oil used for cooking them.”
Across the aisle sat the woman who collected the fares. In a nonchalant voice she said, “Curve up ahead, sweetheart.”
He turned forward again, but continued to talk. “There are still a few restaurants operating in Olympia. They serve the military and political types mostly and get food from area farms. We get the vegetable oil from them after they’re done with it, filter it and use it to run our bus.”
Maria gripped the bar in front of her as the driver weaved around abandoned vehicles. “So the regular buses aren’t running?” She asked again.
“Nope. They’re barely keeping the lights on in this area.”
There were places where cars and trucks were stalled, wrecked or abandoned but, the driver explained, the police and military kept the freeway passable. Caden had driven this freeway many times as a teen and while going to college and soon he recognized the Olympia area. Minutes later the bus pulled off the freeway and down empty streets. Soldiers or military vehicles were at many of the crossroads. Some shops were open, but most were boarded up or burned out. They turned off Capitol Way onto a side street and almost at once Capitol Lake was to their right along with Heritage Park, but it wasn’t a park. It was a huge refugee camp. The capitol stood on top of a large hill before them.
“This is as close as I can get you,” the driver said pointing to the building.
As they stepped off the bus Maria gripped Caden’s arm. “That was one wild ride. I feel like I should kneel and kiss the ground.”
Caden heard her, but his gaze was locked on the sea of tents, cars and people that filled what had once been a green, lakeside park.
As the bus pulled away the smell of french-fries was quickly replaced by the smell of human waste. In the distance police sirens wailed. Immediately to their left stood a huge tent with FEMA printed on the side. Before them, almost blocking their way, stood an uncountable number of tents, cars, RVs and campers. Smoke rose from hundreds of campfires. Along the edges of the camp were Humvees and soldiers.
Somehow he had expected conditions to get better as he got closer to home, but things weren’t better. Lifting his gaze to his immediate destination, the capitol, he was filled with both dread and a feeling of destiny. Freedom, law and order were all holding on by a thread. The nation would either regroup, fight back against those that attacked it, or descend into tyranny or worse, chaos.
He turned to the woman by his side. And what about Maria? What about Becky? There too, he was at a crossroads. He needed answers and he knew where to get them. “Come on,” he said pointing to the capitol, “that is where we need to go.”
Chapter Eleven
Maria gazed at the capitol high on the hill. “How do we get up there?”
Military vehicles clogged the road. Caden decided to avoid it. “Follow me,” he said and headed into the camp. He looked toward the capitol every few minutes to keep his bearing as they walked through the maze of tents and vehicles. “This is less organized, dirtier and colder than Fort Rucker.”
Maria nodded and held the baby tight.
Brightly colored tents stood side-by-side along meandering paths of mud. The smell of damp, sweat and waste filled the air. In any wide spot along the way people huddled around a fire. Children clustered under blankets in the doorways of tents. After several minutes, Caden gave up avoiding muddy puddles and trudged right through them. Soon the lower half of his jeans were more brown than blue.
It took longer than thirty minutes to cross what had once been a park. At the far end they came to a ten foot high chain-link fence with rolled barbed wire on top.
Caden followed the fence to the bottom of the walkway. There was no gate.
“They’re shutting these people in,” Maria said with a hint of fear in her voice.
“They were building a fence around the camp at Rucker.”
“There were gates. People moved in and out all the time.”
“Perhaps they will here.”
“This camp is more crowded and these people seem hungrier, more desperate.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to be inside when this fence is done.”
Caden didn’t want to be in the cold, muddy camp either. “Come on.” Following the barrier, they moved back in the direction they had just come. It didn’t take long to find troops erecting a new section of fe
nce. Unsure if anyone would challenge them, Caden moved a few yards beyond the soldiers. They stepped across the invisible line and turned up the roadway. No attempt was made to stop them.
Maria looked back. “Why would they stay inside?”
“For the promise of food and,” he said pointing to the soldiers, “perhaps security, and because they have no other place to go.”
Maria turned and headed up the road toward the capitol.
Caden followed and within minutes they came to a Humvee and several soldiers at a roadblock. A private called out, “The capitol campus is closed. Return to the camp.”
“Wait here,” he said to Maria. Taking one step forward he said to the soldiers, “My name is Caden Westmore. Governor Monroe is expecting me.”
The private stepped forward, locked eyes with Caden and slowly scanned down to his mud encrusted shoes and pants. “You’re kidding, right?”
Caden showed his Homeland Security badge. “Call the duty officer and give him my name.”
The private told him to wait and walked back to the other soldiers. A couple of minutes later the soldier returned along with a staff sergeant. “Normally the Governor’s visitors drive up,” the senior man said.
“It’s been a long trip, staff sergeant. May I…we, go up now?”
“No, not yet.” The man paused and looked hard at Caden.
He met his gaze.
“You been in the service?”
“Army. Seven years.”
He nodded. “What was your rank?”
“I made captain before the last force reduction.”
“Okay.” A slight smile crossed the soldier’s face. “A lot of people have tried to get past us over the last few days. Most are desperate, some are mad or scared, but you’re not any of that—and you got my rank correct. Well sir, why don’t you and your wife…”
“Friend.”
“…come on up here and we’ll get this sorted out.”
It took a while to contact the governor’s staff, but in less than an hour Caden, Maria and Adam were stepping from a jeep at the foot of the capitol.
Maria sighed, “I always seem to be looking up at this building. So many steps”
“Forty-two,” Caden said with a smile. “Washington was the forty-second state in the union.
“I wish it had been the first.”
“Let me take the baby.”
She handed Adam to him. “Thanks.”
As they reached the top of the steps, David Weston came out of the building holding a clipboard full of papers. He greeted them then turned to Caden. He said, “The Governor is in a meeting right now and would like you to join them.” He looked Caden up and down and said, “Maybe after you clean up.”
Caden handed the baby back to Maria and headed for a lavatory while David settled Maria in a nearby guest house.
Caden left his duffle bag just inside the door of the conference chamber. Governor Monroe sat at a long table that dominated the center of the room. Men and women in business attire and military uniforms sat all around it. Many more sat in chairs along the walls. Caden found an empty seat and then turned his attention to an army major briefing the group.
“That is correct the last fully successful attack was against San Diego over a week ago. Since then we have captured the Detroit bombers and were in pursuit of the Seattle bombers when they detonated their bomb. We believe the terrorist network involved in these attacks has been broken. FBI and DHS are pursuing the remaining perpetrators.”
The governor nodded. “Can we get the people back home?”
“Well sir,” a civilian said, “we, FEMA, are using the media to spread the word that it is safe to go home. A significant portion of Seattle and Tacoma residents are now in two main areas. In the north, beyond the restricted zone, there are several camps along the freeway. Going south, the camps again follow the freeway from Olympia toward Portland and also west toward Aberdeen.
“Using food, fuel and security as an inducement we are attempting to move these populations back to the clear areas of Seattle and Tacoma and surrounding communities. For those that can’t go home, we are setting up two large refugee camps, one north of the metro area and the other to the south.”
“There are hundreds of makeshift camps,” another person said. “If you come in from the north you can see one just down the hill from here.”
FEMA guy said, “We are fencing that area so no more people can get in…”
Maria was worried about getting out, but people want to get in!
“…and as fuel becomes available we will relocate them to the southern camp or return them home. However, we are hampered by logistics. Our most critical shortages are in food and fuel, but almost all supplies are at critical levels.”
Again the governor nodded. “Unless we get the economy moving the people can’t go home to their jobs, but unless the people go home to their jobs the economy can’t get moving.” He sighed. “How many Washington refineries are operating?”
“Only the Tacoma facility was damaged in the blast. The others are operating, but the pipeline was cut by the bomb. We have enough fuel to support military, police and fire operations and keep hospitals with power problems operating. No more. We just do not have the fuel to move hundreds of thousands of people back to their homes and even if we did they would starve after they arrived.”
Someone asked, “Can we get aid from other countries?”
“The Durant administration tells us that some will be coming from Canada, Australia and South America, but not enough. Trade with Europe has halted and that, along with the collapse of several large banks, will likely send their economies into a downward spiral. The Japanese stock market has been closed for a week. Their economy is in depression.
The only economy strong enough to send significant aid is China and, we have been informed, they are demanding trade concessions and continued payment of our treasury and other debts to them in something other than dollars.”
Briefings continued from each advisor or agency representative, but Caden’s attention was drawn to a large map at the far end of the room. It displayed the Seattle metro area with a red oval enclosing the southern portion of the city, several suburbs and the international airport. This area was labeled, ‘Blast Damage.’ A slightly larger area outlined in blue line was labeled EMP. At least the bomb was detonated at ground level. If it had been launched by even a short range rocket the electromagnetic pulse would have covered the entire metro area or more.
A wavy orange line labeled, ‘Fire Damage,’ outlined a much larger area. An even larger black oval extended south into Tacoma and east toward the mountains was labeled, ‘Fallout.”
Waterborne disease, looting, burning, shortages of bandages and pharmaceuticals, brownouts and blackouts and it will all probably get worse. Caden slumped over in his chair as the weight of the troubled nation pressed down on him.
Suddenly people stood and moved toward the door. Roused from his thoughts Caden looked for Monroe and found him in a cluster of people still talking and listening. I really want to explain to him about Maria, but how do I get a moment with him? He stood and continued to watch the governor. Their eyes met.
“Caden, stay there. I want to talk to you.”
He smiled weakly and nodded. Monroe knows I deceived him about Maria. I should have just told him the truth. This job, my career, they’re over.
Monroe walked over with a serious look on his face. “These meetings are depressing.” Then he smiled and shook Caden’s hand. “I know you want to see your family, but I need you to do some things for me while you’re down there.
“We don’t know much about how the people are doing in those communities. I want you to assess the needs. Maybe we can help.
“However, there is good farm land in that area. This spring we need it planted in crops we can use to feed people there and in this area. I need you to be my liaison to local community leaders and farmers. Can you do that?”
“Yes
sir.”
“One more thing. As you know there is a National Guard armory in Hansen.”
Caden nodded.
The governor paused as if in thought. “I told you I wanted you on as an advisor, but right now I have a more pressing problem. The commanding officer of the Hansen armory is dead. I want you to assume command.”
“I’m not in the National Guard.”
“You are now—Major. I need you to secure the armory and hopefully find someone local to command it. I would prefer to have you here in Olympia.”
Caden took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Yes sir, but before I go there is something I need to tell you. I…I haven’t been truthful with you about Maria and Adam.” As briefly as possible he explained when and how they met. When he was done he said, “So you see they are actually not my family.”
“Yes, I knew.”
“You knew?”
He point to Caden’s finger. “No wedding ring and no mark for one. I had David do a background check on you.” He shrugged. “I figured you were helping someone in your extended family or a friend. I’m glad to know the facts though. What you tell me about Maria is impressive and you did the right thing by helping her and Adam.”
“I’m sorry about the deception, sir.”
Monroe smiled. “Trust me in the future. Find David and he’ll get you everything you’ll need, and then go visit your family, find out the status of the situation in the county and then get back to Olympia by this coming Monday. We have a huge amount of work to do.”
What day of the week is it? “Yes sir.” Caden smiled. “I’ll see you on Monday.” Whenever that is. As he left the conference room he pulled out his phone and dialed home. Again, all he heard was a rapid busy signal.
Chapter Twelve
As Caden walked into the lobby, David walked toward the room, looking at his clip board. He talked with half a dozen people before getting to Caden.
“A secretary took Maria to this guest house.” He wrote the address down and handed it, along with two keys on a ring, to Caden. “Has the Governor briefed you on what he wants?” David briefly reiterated the Governor’s instructions while Caden nodded. When David was done he crossed out a line on his list. “Good. Go to this office in the Wainwright building. It’s on the same floor as the Emergency Operations Center. They will get you official orders and a uniform.” He handed Caden another piece of paper. “We have a staff meeting scheduled for Monday at 9:00 a.m. Governor Monroe wants a report on conditions from as many counties as possible. I’ll see you then. Okay? Good.” He turned.
