by Kyle Pratt
“Oh, two things before you go. What day of the week is it?”
“Today? Monday. The meeting is next Monday.”
“Yes. Just making sure.” A week at home and back here. Good. “Also, is there a phone that I can use to call New York? I need to contact a friend in the administration.”
“Try my office,” He pointed, “but long distance calls are always problematic.”
As Caden stepped away, David called to a person across the lobby and lined out another item on his list.
Picking up the phone, he glanced at his watch. Nearly two in the afternoon, that would be five in New York. She’ll still be at work. After a half-hour of attempts, disconnections, phone trees and transfers he was getting worried, but finally he heard Becky’s voice.
“Caden is that really you? I thought…I feared…is it really you?”
“Yes, it really is me. It is great to hear your voice. I was afraid you died in the Atlanta blast, but then three days ago I saw you on TV.”
“I was afraid that you were in Atlanta when it happened. I’ve really missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too,” he said, but the words sounded strangely hollow. “A road block stopped me or I would have been right there looking for you. When did you get out of the city and how did you end up as the press secretary for President Durant?”
“It had been an incredible two weeks.” She described being on the edge of the metro area, seeing the flash and feeling the torrent of wind buffet the van she was in. “I think I was close like you were. The remote studio was damaged. It took two days to get back on the air and almost as soon as we were, President Durant asked me to join the administration as his press secretary. How could I say, “no?”
I could have found a way. “That’s a great opportunity for you, but only for a few months. Is Durant going to run for president? The election is in nine months and, the last I heard, Governor Monroe is the only candidate still alive.”
“There isn’t going to be an election. Parts of the country are already under martial law and by the end of the month the whole country will be. President Durant plans to cancel the elections until martial law is lifted.”
“Elections are conducted by the states. The federal government can’t….”
“Durant appointed new Supreme Court justices. They will approve his martial law declaration and the cancellation of the election.”
“How can there be new justices if there is no senate to confirm them?”
“The senate is not in session so President Durant made nine recess appointments.”
Caden was stunned into silence. Durant was acting within the letter, if not the spirit, of the Constitution.
“Caden, this is all for the good of the country. The nation doesn’t need elections right now. It doesn’t need a bickering congress, it needs security. America needs strong leadership and a guiding hand. Durant is that leader.”
You sound like his campaign chairman.
“Come to New York as quickly as you can. Now both money and power are centered in the Big Apple. This is where the action is going to be in the coming years. Working with Durant could make both our careers. I could get you a position in the administration.” She paused. “I’ve got to go, another meeting. I love you.”
“I miss you.”
“Come here quickly. We will make a great team.”
He ended the call with a promise to think about it.
* * *
Caden looked in a mirror as he adjusted the collar of his new ACUs. It’s strange to be back in uniform. He placed the Velcro rank insignia on his chest. And stranger still to see the oak leaf of a major on my uniform. Cold wind buffeted him as he left the new National Guard offices on the capitol campus. A low sun hid behind the gray buildings. Caden flipped up the collar of his uniform jacket to the cold and shifted the weight of the duffle bag on his back and then continued on toward the guest house just off the plaza. Two soldiers standing watch on the corner saluted. One said, “Good night, sir,” as he passed.
Caden, deep in thought, mumbled his reply. It had been a long and perplexing day. Assume command of the armory. What if no one is there? How do you command an armory with no soldiers? Secure the weapons. What if it has been looted? Act as a liaison. What if the farmers don’t want to listen?
The call with Becky stirred an array of emotions. He had feelings for her, but was it love? Besides beauty and education, she was career orientated and mixed well in Washington circles. Three weeks ago those last two were qualities he cultivated in himself and admired in others.
His thoughts returned to his family. What if they are dead or gone? He pulled out his phone and dialed home once again. The phone rang several times.
“Hello.”
Caden was shocked to hear a voice and hesitated. “Ah, hello…Mom?”
The line went dead.
Did I really hear her say hello? Yes, yes I did, but was that Mom or my sister? Did the line go dead or did she hang up? He tried several more times, but never connected.
At the steps of the guest house, he slid the phone back into his pocket. The building was an old, two-story mansion with a large, covered front porch. He walked up the steps and looked back. The capitol and surrounding office buildings were in full view. Turning toward the door he fumbled with the keys. One unlocked the front door, the other had the number three on it. Caden walked up creaking stairs to the second floor. He opened the door and gently set the duffle bag down. In the dim light of a fading winter day he could see Maria curled around the baby on the bed. Standing in the doorway he paused to admire the beautiful picture before him.
She opened her eyes.
He smiled.
She blinked, then screamed.
Waving his arms he said, “Me…just me…Caden.”
She sat up, held a crying Adam to her chest, and looked him up and down. “You enlisted?”
“Actually I’m an officer.”
Confusion spread across her face.
“Officers don’t enlist.” Walking toward her he said, “I’ll explain the difference later.” He sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry I frightened you. I’m surprised you were so deeply asleep.”
“I didn’t sleep well in jail.”
He laughed. “No, I guess I wouldn’t either.” He explained that the governor called him to duty so that he could take charge and secure the armory in Hansen. Then he told her all that happened during the day, except the call to Becky.
“Are you hungry?” she asked. “This house is really a Bed and Breakfast. The owner lives in an apartment downstairs. There’s food in the fridge in the kitchen.”
“I’m famished.” He frowned. “I haven’t eaten all day.”
Placing the sleeping baby in a large cushioned chair with blankets around him Maria went to the kitchen with Caden. Later in the dining room they ate, talked and laughed about everything and nothing until the moon was high in the night sky. Only when they both yawned did they return to the room.
While Caden hung up his uniform Maria said, “The bed is big and comfortable…we could…I mean you could sleep on it, in it together…well not together, separately, but to…you know what I mean, I hope… I’m going to shut up now.”
Over the last two weeks they had slept in the same room, the same car, beside each other on a plane and in sleeping bags side-by-side, but this would be a new level. “Thank you, but I’ll sleep on the floor. It isn’t the first time I’ve slept on a hard surface.”
She nodded.
Caden laid out blankets beside the bed, turned off the light and climbed into a sleeping bag. For several minutes he stared at the ceiling. “You still awake?”
“Yes.”
“Remember I told you I lost someone in Atlanta?”
“Yes, someone you loved.”
“Her name is Becky and I talked with her today.”
“She’s alive?”
“Well, yes, and we were, are engaged, but….” Caden sat up. In the di
m light of the room he could see Maria’s head turned toward him. Her eyes were open and locked on target. “It’s complicated.”
“Such things often are.”
“No, no, you misunderstand me. I’ve been thinking about this all afternoon and…well… please listen.”
“Okay.”
“Three weeks ago I worked at the hub of power and influence in this country. My boss, Senator Stevens, was often mentioned as a future presidential candidate. That is all gone now and everything has changed, is changing. Maybe I’m changing.
“When we talked today, Becky urged me to come to New York. She said that is where the power and money are. That we’d make a great team. There was a time when the thought of being married to a woman like her was, well, exciting. I’ve been thinking about that and more all day.”
He lay down again. “Becky may be on the power and money team,” he concluded, “but I don’t like the direction that team is going and it disturbs me that she is so willing, eager even, to be a part of it. I don’t want to be part of that team.”
After a long pause Maria asked, “Do you love her?”
“Love? I still care for her, but no I don’t love her. We’ve moved in different directions. We’re not the same people. We won’t be getting married.”
He waited for Maria to ask the next, more difficult question, did he love her? But, that query did not come and soon he heard the gentle rhythmic breathing of her sleep.
Chapter Thirteen
Maria sat on the porch swing with Adam, as Caden drove up to the guest house in a dark blue SUV. When he stepped from the car she said, “I wondered how we would get to Hansen.”
“The guys at the motor pool told me they have several dozen abandoned cars that were towed in. Some still had keys inside.” He leaned against it. “This was one of them.”
“And they just gave it to you?”
“Loaned.”
He picked up the bags beside Maria and they walked to the car.
“Getting a vehicle was not the problem, finding enough gas to fill the tank took me over an hour.”
“Is that enough gas to get us to your home?”
“Yes and hopefully we can get more after we get there.”
Caden retrieved their bags from the room and loaded them in the back of the car. Then, with Maria in the passenger seat and Adam on her lap, he drove to a parking lot near the old capitol. Several Humvees and Fuelers, a couple of APCs and a Stryker vehicle, filled the lot. “We’re heading south on the interstate with this convoy.”
As the line of vehicles moved out Maria asked, “Are they going to Hansen?”
“No, they’re heading farther south to refugee camps outside of Longview and Vancouver. We’ll have to leave before then and do the last part of the trip on our own.” Caden drove over and joined the convoy near the rear.
As they rolled onto the freeway Maria clutched Adam tight in her arms. “We should get a car seat.”
Caden chuckled. I may not be married or have a kid, but I’m going to look like it. “I’ll put it on the list of things we need.”
The slow progress of the convoy allowed Caden to observe much of the scene along the freeway. Boarded and burnt buildings, broken windows and yards strewn with trash were the mute reminders of the desperate exodus from Seattle and Tacoma just days ago. Humvees parked on many of the overpasses kept order on a largely empty freeway.
“I’ve often driven this route with my parents and when I was in college.” On his right a long line of rail cars covered with graffiti came into view. “It sure looks different now.”
Gradually the buildings gave way to forest. The wider shoulder and gradual slope allowed abandoned cars to be pushed off to the side. How many wrecked and burned cars have I seen today? As they drove by he counted a group of eight vehicles. Have we driven past a hundred? The convoy paused as soldiers pushed a burned truck out of the way. More than a hundred. How many people fled down this highway after the Seattle bomb? He recalled fleeing from Washington D.C. and then away from Atlanta. He remembered the body of Adam’s mother and finding the baby. So many people dead.
He recognized a home in a field along the freeway and pointed it out to Maria. “An old school friend lived there.” As they came close he saw the windows were broken, burn marks scared the walls and the front door hung haphazardly in the frame. Behind the home, a greenhouse stood with its door swinging in the wind.
I hope the family is okay…and my family. God, please let them be okay.
After nearly an hour the convoy rolled off the freeway and into the large parking lot of a truck stop. Children swarmed around the vehicles like bees around a hive. Adults from the tents walked toward the convoy as soldiers took up positions along it.
Fragments of plywood were scattered around the broken windows of the convenience store. Extension cords hung out the shattered windows and ran to several nearby RV’s.
Along the edges of the parking lot, cars of all descriptions sat randomly. Tents lined the grassy edges of the lot.
A group of children hovered around the SUV staring in the windows. Caden gently opened the door and stepped out.
“I’m hungry.” “Do you have food?” “Who are you?” “Are you in the Army?” “My Mom is sick—can you help?” “My Dad needs gas.” “Where did you get gas?” “When can we go home?”
Caden had few answers. Frustrated he walked on.
A child pointed east. “Are you going up the road there?”
“Yes, I’m going to Hansen.”
“There are robbers that way.”
Crunching broken glass under foot, Caden walked up to the store and peered in a large broken window. Only garbage, strewn on the floor, remained.
Maria came up beside him and looked in the window. “I guess they don’t have baby formula or diapers.”
Caden smiled weakly. “No, I think they’re out.” He turned away. “I need to speak to the officer-in-charge.” It didn’t take long to find him talking to other soldiers hemmed in by children.
Caden gradually pushed his way through. “This isn’t a camp. It’s a wide spot in the road. Why are all these people here?”
“This is where they ran out of gas and,” he pointed across the road to a church, “that congregation gave out food until they ran out. Many just stayed here hoping to survive until they can go home.”
“If we could get them fuel could they go home?”
The officer shook his head and motioned for Caden to follow him. Between two noisy trucks he said, “Most of them are from the Seattle red zone. Their homes were either destroyed by the blast or burned in the fires afterward.”
“They’ll die here.”
The officer nodded. “We’ve moved most to the southern refugee camp. These people won’t go for one reason or another. Hunger will eventually change their minds.” He looked east and west along the two lane country road. “Which way are you headed?”
“East to Hansen.”
“One of the refugees told me bandits have blocked the road that way.”
“I heard something similar. Who talked to you?”
He pointed and they walked over to a man sitting on an ice chest. Behind him was an older Ford minivan. A tarp duct taped to the top and supported by two tree limbs formed a canopy over him. It reminded Caden of the covering Maria made at Rucker.
“Henry, this is Major Westmore. He needs to get to Hansen.”
Henry shook his head.
“Can you tell him about the road block?”
“We heard there were farms out that way.” He pointed east. “Several of us pooled the little gas we had. We hoped to get food or maybe work for food. But, about ten miles in there is a causeway crossing a river…”
Caden nodded. “That is just a mile or so before Hansen.”
“…and on the far side two dozers blocked the road. I got a glimpse of several bandits with rifles.”
“How do you know they were criminals?”
“They shot a
t us.”
“How many shots?”
“Just one that I heard, but we didn’t stick around and let them improve their aim.”
“So no one was hit?”
“No. We slammed it in reverse and got out of there.”
Caden thanked him, started to turn away then paused. “Why are you staying here Henry? Wouldn’t it be better in the refugee camp?”
“I was up north with my family.” He pointed to a woman and two boys around a fire at the edge of the lot. “We were visiting friends when Washington was hit. We headed home to our farm in Oregon the next morning after Los Angles was bombed. None of us want to go to a FEMA camp. We just want to go home. If I can somehow get ten gallons of gas I’ll make it.” His head slumped down.
Caden had less than five gallons in his tank and no certainty of getting more.
As they walked away the officer asked, “Are you still going to Hansen?”
“Yes.”
“Good luck.”
Caden nodded and headed off to find Maria. It wasn’t hard; she was surrounded by children. After he got her away from the kids, he told her about the roadblock. “I’d like you to stay here while I find a way into Hansen.”
“No.”
“Be reasonable.”
“I am. I’ll drive. You keep your gun ready and give me directions. Also, you might get another gun before the convoy pulls out. You know I can shoot.”
Caden could find only one fault with the plan. “What about Adam?”
“Well, we are not going to leave him with strangers, so you find a way around the roadblock and we keep Adam with us.”
