Switched On

by Franklin Horton

  "How about I come and get you tomorrow with two horses?" Kyle said. “We'll take a look at those trucks you were talking about. If we get a couple of them running you can bring one back to your house and I'll take my horses back home. Then the day after tomorrow, we’ll pick up a crew and get to work."

  Orfield sighed. "As much as I want to retire, let's go to work are some the sweetest words I've heard in a long time."

  Kyle took a hit off the bottle. As much work as lay ahead of them, this was one of the first positive things he'd heard in a while. Every bit of news they’d heard since last summer was worse than news before it. Violence, death, disease, starvation. Finally there was a flicker of hope. He hoped it was the beginning of the end, and that this would all become a story he would tell his grandchildren one day, the way old-timers talked about the Great Depression or the Normandy invasion. People would recall where they were when the lights came back on the same way they talked about where they were when they heard Kennedy had been assassinated or that terrorists had hit the World Trade Center.

  At least that was what he was hoping.

  18

  Sometime after 2 AM Jim slipped into his woodshop and built a small fire. Hugh decided to push on home. In these days of wood heat, a man couldn’t leave his home unattended for too long or things froze up. Jim slept well on the comfortable old couch and rejoined his family in the morning. They were sitting around the fire and were pleased to see him home. It was an ever-present concern that each trip could be your last. There were too many variables to be certain of anything anymore.

  It took a long time to explain everything that happened over the course of the two days Jim had been gone. He found it easiest to start at the beginning and go through everything in order. He told them about the power plants and what the guards had told him, about visiting Kyle, and then intercepting the helicopter crew that night. He explained that the story the Energy Recovery folks told seemed to verify what the guards at the power plant had said. Finally, he told them about the comfort camps and the pending announcement.

  No one interrupted Jim with any questions as he spoke but the expressions on the faces surrounding him certainly communicated that they had some. He understood. Sometimes a new piece of information only served to raise more questions than it answered. For months the question on everyone’s mind was wondering when the power might come back on. Now they had some sort of answer and it only served to complicate things.

  “I don't think this leaves a person many options," Nana said. She looked around the room for support.

  "I agree,” Jim said. “There's no way I could accept conditions like those."

  His mother furrowed her brow and looked at him intently. They were clearly on different wavelengths. "Wait a minute. You mean to tell me you would not go to the shelter?"

  Incredulous, Jim sat straight up on the couch. "Absolutely not! I saw the FEMA shelter system fall apart right after this whole mess took place. People were lucky to get out alive. Going to a shelter is just making the choice to die in a mass grave. There’s no way that turns out well."

  Jim's mother was not pleased with him. "Well, I just don't see how someone could choose to risk their family’s life when the government is making power available to you,” she fired back. “It makes complete sense to me that they want people to turn in their guns. Look at what's happening with the world! It's gone crazy. Look at how many people this family alone has killed. I think the only way they're going to get people to start behaving like civilized adults again is to take away their weapons."

  Jim took a deep breath, then several more. He forced himself to remember this was his mother he was speaking to. The way she was talking, what she was considering doing, provoked a strong reaction from him and he was trying to curb that reaction. He not want to say the same things to her that he would say to other people in this exact same debate. He didn’t care if those other people ever spoke to him again or not, but he planned on continuing to have a relationship with his mother. He reined himself back in.

  "I understand if that's what you want to do. I want you to understand that I'm very concerned about what could happen to you."

  She was not impressed by his restraint. "What might happen to us there is certainly no worse than what happens to us out here. We would be under the protection of armed troops. It should be safer."

  "Just remember you might find yourself under the authority of foreign troops who don't speak your language and have no concern for you whatsoever. You would not be under the protection of people who know and love you like you are now."

  Nana turned and looked angrily at Pops. "You haven’t said anything. What do you think?"

  Pops sighed and smiled at his wife. "I will go with you wherever you want to go. My days of fighting are over anyway. My personal preference would be to stay here with my family, especially since they won’t even be able to visit the camp. You understand that, right? Jim and Ellen won't be bringing the kids to visit. There's no interaction with people outside of the camp. Once we go when it's just us."

  Nana started crying. His mother didn’t use tears to manipulate so this was clearly an indication of just how upset she was.

  "You don't have to decide right now," Jim assured her. “You have plenty of time." He didn’t have the energy for this.

  "Are you going to tell the old lady?" Ellen asked.

  Jim looked at his wife quizzically. "The old lady? What lady?"

  "The lady that you and Randi visited. Near your parents’ house."

  It suddenly hit Jim that she was talking about Mrs. Fairlane. "Oh yeah. My God, it seems so long ago I’d nearly forgotten about her."

  Ellen grinned playfully. "Apparently that would come as no surprise to her. She seems to have pretty low expectations where you're concerned."

  Jim frowned. "I've about had it with people and their expectations. I’m starting to understand why people leave their hometowns after high school and never come back."

  Ellen looked stung by the remark. "I'm only joking. I was just teasing you."

  "Sorry. Guess I'm not in the mood for it."

  "Obviously. I still think you should go tell the old lady this news when you have a chance. She might be someone who would choose a shelter."

  "She probably would. And it would likely be the best thing for her."

  Jim's wife stared at him. She could tell where he was in his head at the moment, what he was thinking, what he was wanting to do. "Listen, I know you want to get away from it all right now, but take someone with you. It's too dangerous to go into town alone. Too many stupid things can happen."

  "I will,” Jim reluctantly agreed. “Maybe I'll take Ford again. I think there might be some folks he wants to check in on."

  "You asking Randi?"

  Jim shook his head. “She's done with town for now. Said it's where people go to die and she doesn't want to die.”

  Ellen understood. Losing Buddy had hit Randi hard. “You thinking about going to speak with her today?"

  "I don’t think so.” Jim laughed. “Riding that horse for two days about wrecked me. Every muscle between my ankles and my shoulders is about to kill me. I need a day just to walk around and loosen back up. I’ll plan on doing it tomorrow. Maybe I'll run by Kyle's house to see if he's figured anything out."

  "You could take Hugh. He seems pretty handy."

  "Hugh is cool under pressure but I could tell he missed his radios while we were gone. He probably spent all night catching up on what he missed. That may be the best place for him, gathering intelligence. He’s the only one who can do what he’s doing."

  "That reminds me," Ellen said, "the sheriff's mother died while you were gone. Lloyd, Randi, Will, and some of the Wimmers went up there and tried to help the sheriff dig the grave but he didn't want any help. He said it was a family thing and he’d take care of it."

  "I can almost understand that," Jim said. "It's probably more about closure than anything else. He needs a little physical suf
fering to go along with the mental suffering he's been experiencing."

  Nana’s crying had subsided but Jim didn’t try to resume the conversation. They both needed some time to cool off and think. Nana and Pops retreated back to the bedroom where they had been staying, presumably to discuss what had taken place.

  Jim looked at Ellen and lowered his voice. "You do understand why I oppose this, don't you? I can’t handle the idea of you all being at the mercy of the people running those shelters. The people that choose to stay there will just be sheep who are surrendering all ability to make decisions for themselves. Some people want that but I couldn't handle it. I don't want anyone in my family to die. I don't want anything bad to happen to any of us, and I honestly believe trusting your survival to one of these so-called comfort camps is the wrong thing to do."

  Ellen stared at her husband for a long time. "I think you're right. I don't think it's going to be an easy way to go though. Things may get worse for us before they get better."

  "When has any of it been easy?"

  Ellen shook her head. “It hasn’t.”

  Jim stuck around long enough to have breakfast with his kids, then threw on his gear and went to check on the energy recovery folks. The barn Jim offered them for the night was on a vacant farm with no home on it. It belonged to some folks who lived several towns away and Jim hadn't seen them since he returned from Richmond. After a short walk, he found the folks awake and stirring, cooking breakfast and instant coffee in the dark interior of the barn.

  Jim banged on the open door before going inside. "Morning."

  He received some noncommittal nods from members of the group. They were either uncertain as to whether it was actually a good morning or not, or perhaps they still harbored some resentment from the previous night when Jim had been a little rough with them. He couldn't blame them for not gushing at his appearance, yet at the same time they had to understand his precautions.

  Scott, their apparent leader, seemed to hold no grudge. He approached Jim and held out a hand. It was not the exuberant handshake of old friends but the tentative handshake of new potential allies.

  "How did everyone sleep?" Jim asked.

  "It's not exactly the Ritz-Carlton but it beats sleeping in the slush."

  "Sorry, but this is the best I had to offer."

  "And you don't really know us yet," Scott added.

  Jim smiled. Scott knew the score. "Yeah, but maybe we can find something better if you’re sticking around for a while."

  "Not happening."

  “If it’s not confidential, what’s next for you guys?”

  "We were supposed to go to the state line, make a U-turn, and head back northwest. The plan was to continue doing the same thing we did here, letting folks know what was about to happen and allowing them to make an informed decision as to whether they wanted to go to these camps or not."

  “Supposed to?”

  “After what you told us about the presence at the power plants, our plans have changed. Speaking of which, you mentioned you had a radio operator?”

  “We do.”

  "It would be helpful if we could get him to relay a message for us."

  "I can’t speak for him but you’re welcome to ask him."

  "Our intelligence on a national level is a little scattered right now. We know what the overall agenda is but we really don't know how far the government has progressed toward putting their plans into place. Your information about plants being up and running is new. I'm not sure the folks back at the office are aware they’re that close to flipping the switch."

  "Aren't you concerned about transmitting that information over open channels? It's possible that the folks at the power plant will intercept your transmissions and know they're being watched."

  Scott gestured toward his gear on the ground. “If your radio operator is willing to assist me, I have top end encryption. This device will record my transmission and send it in a burst that will be indecipherable except to parties who have the same device in place."

  "I can radio Hugh on my walkie-talkie and let him know what you need," Jim said. "If he's game, I can walk you up there. It's about a thirty minute walk."

  Scott smiled. "Is that all? I've been walking for months now. Thirty minutes is nothing. Hell, thirty miles is nothing anymore."

  Jim got Hugh on the walkie-talkie and explained the situation. Hugh offered to walk halfway down the hill to meet Scott.

  While Jim was on the radio, Scott went through his gear. He pulled several items from his pack and shoved them into his pocket, then slung his rifle over his shoulder. He explained to his group where he was going and that they should be prepared to leave when he got back.

  Jim and Scott walked the farm road a short distance and then rejoined the main county road through the valley.

  "Part of this transmission is a resupply request," Scott said.

  "I thought you just got resupplied last night? That’s how we found you.”

  "That was basic gear. We only thought we were in for another month of snooping and pooping down here in the boonies. What you told us last night changes things. I'd like to get some better surveillance gear. I could use a micro-drone, some long-range optics, and thermal blocking gear. Maybe even a parabolic mic for picking up their conversations."

  "With that shopping list, it sounds like you have some good resources available to you."

  Scott shrugged. "We do, but there's a lot of treachery right now. It's typical beltway stuff, only the consequences are higher. It's not just the fate of a nation, but life and death for everyone involved. Whichever group prevails will probably execute the other for treason. It’s that serious."

  As bad as it sounded, Jim was glad there were good guys out there who had access to top-level gear. That indicated there were some powerful backers to this rogue group. They weren’t just rebels, but the tip of a true patriot resistance.

  "Sorry, I got sidetracked. The point of all that was to see if there might be anything you guys needed," Scott offered.

  Jim nearly rebuffed the offer purely out of habit because he didn't like to feel indebted to people. Then it occurred to him that, hell yeah there was stuff they needed. "That would be great. There are several things we could use."

  Without missing a beat, Scott fished around in his jacket pocket and whipped out a small field notebook and a pen. "Shoot. What do you need?"

  "Coffee if you got it. We could also use cases of MREs. Our long-range food is good but we’re running out of MREs for people who are out doing guard duty or recon."

  "MREs we got. I can hook you up. What else?"

  "We could use ammo in all the basic flavors. If you can feed my ARs, AKs, and handguns, we would all feel little more comfortable."

  "Got it. 5.56, 7.62, 9mm, and .45 cal."

  "How much do you think you can bring?"

  "It's not a matter of what we have available," Scott said. "It's more a matter of how much weight we can put on the chopper and not put a pinch on the flight range. I could probably get 10,000 rounds of each without even raising an eyebrow. It was understood from the beginning of this mission that we might have to do some local trading to secure cooperation. We’ll just chalk this off as greasing the wheels of local government.”

  “Whatever makes it happen,” Jim said. “Can we get medical supplies?”

  “What kind?”

  “Medications. Antibiotics, pain, whatever you can get us.”

  Scott scratched that down on his list.

  Jim spotted Hugh in the distance ahead of them and threw up a hand. Hugh waved back.

  “There’s our radio guy,” Jim said. “I’ll pass you on to him. I’ve got a few things to take care of.”

  Scott extended a hand. “I think we’ll be meeting again, but if we don’t, keep your head low.”

  Jim shook the man’s hand. “You do the same.”

  19

  It was early when Kyle showed up at Orfield's house with a spare horse. By midday they were in
the industrial park riding down a desolate road between expansive metal buildings. The industrial park looked relatively untouched, likely having none of the things people were most intently searching for.

  For Kyle, a frugal and resourceful farmer, he couldn’t help but make a mental note of the resources that were potentially available here. There was a hardwood flooring manufacturer. It was likely they had a decent supply of finished lumber which could be a rare commodity in the coming years, depending on how quickly things got back to normal. There was a gas pipeline company and Kyle noticed they had racks of metal stock outside of their facility. There were also semi-trailers stacked high with six-inch well casing. It was a material that in hard times could be used to make a chimney for a wood stove. He figured it was a safe bet they also had oxygen and acetylene equipment inside. Without electricity for arc welding and fuel to run portable welders, gas welding may be the best option for the short-term future. Of course, Kyle sucked at it, but with a little practice he might be able to stick two pieces of metal together.

  The warehouse they were looking for was a retail distributor of frozen meals. Their drivers went door-to-door leaving catalogs and selling meals much like the vacuum cleaner salesman of days gone by. It was immediately obvious that someone, or several someones, had ransacked the facility. The freezer compartments on the trucks had been pried open and there were fragments of old packaging evident even beneath the snow.

  Because the grid collapsed in summer it was unlikely any meals had survived for long. Anyone who looted these trucks looking for food was certainly disappointed. Other than open doors on the freezer compartments the trucks appeared to be undamaged. The doors were not locked so no one broke out any windows and the tires were still inflated.

  Understanding that they would have to get inside the warehouse to find the keys, the men went to the office door and found that it had already been pried open. In typical shortsightedness, the people who had raided the place had only been looking for food and cash. Drawers in offices had been ransacked and the contents dumped in the floor. A heavy safe anchored to the concrete had been pried upon until the door gave way and yielded the contents. Whatever the robbers had found there was likely as useless now as it was then. Money meant nothing at all. Food, gas, and ammunition were the commodities of the day.