by P. A. Glaspy
Roy smiled at Tanner. “Yes, Sir. I believe we will.”
They had passed I-895 and were coming up on a residential area. The highway they were traveling had been lined with concrete walls to dampen the sound of hundreds of thousands of cars passing by daily from the homes behind them. That turned out to be a blessing because the walls weren’t easily scaled by the average person. They did see a large white banner of some sort hanging from the wall. It was billowing in the breeze of the chilly late December morning. Roy leaned forward trying to see what it was.
“Damn.”
The single word he uttered was laced with concern, enough that the rest of the occupants were trying to see for themselves what he had seen. As they passed it, they could tell what it was. The banner was actually a large white sheet that had been painted with red letters. It read simply:
HELP US!
The passengers of the Humvee were quiet as they drove past the silent plea that spoke so loudly.
Finally, Roy said softly, “How can we help everyone? There’re so many people in this country. They’re probably out of food by now and the water stopped running yesterday. We have a lot to do and not much time to do it before …”
His voice trailed off, the unfinished thought hanging in the air of the cab like cigarette smoke in a crowded bar.
Never taking his eyes off the road, Damon replied, “We can’t save them all. We just have to do what we can where we can and when we can. The rest is up to God.”
“There’s probably a lot of people talking to Him right now,” Stacy commented from the back. Her statement hung in the air of the small space as each of them seemed lost in his or her own thoughts.
The underpass for Baltimore Annapolis Boulevard appeared, and Roy watched as Damon visibly tensed up. He turned his attention to the road, his curiosity piqued.
“Is something wrong, Major? Did you see something ahead?”
Damon shook his head and replied, “No, it looks okay. We had a run-in a few miles back with some residents who had set up an ambush site at an underpass, but this one looks clear.”
“Oh, man. Was anybody hurt?”
“Liz got shot,” Stacy blurted out. “Through and through. Perez patched her up.”
“And the men who were trying to ambush us were killed,” Damon said in a quiet voice. “They shot at us and we had to return fire.”
“Holy sh—” Roy stopped, eyeing the child sitting on his father’s lap in the back seat. “Er, cow. A firefight, right in the street?”
“Yes, and it’s only going to get worse as time goes on. Desperate people are dangerous. They aren’t thinking clearly and make rash decisions without considering the consequences. We are just a few days into this catastrophe. I can’t imagine what it will be like in a few weeks.” Damon was scowling yet breathed a sigh of relief when they got through the underpass unmolested.
They went through another residential area they couldn’t see due to the concrete walls lining the interstate. They were approaching the underpass for I-895. Damon was scanning the area with a confused look on his face.
“We’ve got a slight problem,” he said to no one in particular.
Roy sat up straighter and looked ahead. “What’s wrong?”
“I want to get on 895 so we can bypass as much residential area as possible then take 95 on into D.C. But there’s no off-ramp.”
“No, there’s not one on this side,” Roy replied. “Only on the other side and going the opposite direction.”
“Well, I guess we’re going to have to make one.” Damon went around a stalled car in the outer lane they were using and stayed in the one closest to the median strip. Once they had passed under 895, he stopped and parked the Humvee. Turning to face the Tanners, he said, “I’m going to get out and see if there’s anything that can hurt us or the camper hidden under the snow. Sit tight.”
“I’ll help,” Roy added, climbing out the passenger door. He was met by Hutch and a couple of his men who had exited the camper to see what was going on.
“Problem?” Hutch queried, scanning for anything untoward around them.
Damon met him between the two conveyances. “For once, no. We need to get up there,” he turned, pointing to the elevated highway behind them, “with no ramp. I should be able to make a wide enough turn to go up the off ramp here, then another turn to get us going the right direction. I just want to make sure there is nothing we can’t see under the snow. You know how they love putting concrete things on the side of the road. We just need something to poke around the ground.”
“Let me check the camper. There may be something in there we can use.” Hutch went back to the open door. He could be heard relaying the update to the occupants inside it. After a moment, he came back out with a few things, followed by Marco and some of the reservists.
“These should work.” He laid out a couple of hiking poles and some long plastic legs, possibly from a canopy or screen room attachment.
Damon nodded and smiled. “Excellent. Yes, that should do the trick. Everybody grab one and start working your way up to the ramp. Let’s get the shovels and scrape out a path to follow while we’re at it.”
“Great, more shoveling,” Marco grumbled from the rear of the group. “That one protein bar ain’t gonna cut it.”
Chapter 26
Lauri begged to be released from firearms training with the excuse she needed to be putting the food inventory together. Amanda seemed relieved to accommodate her request. She hurried back to the house with Will along for protection. When they got inside, she hung her coat by the door and heaved a sigh.
“Thank goodness that’s over. I’ve never been so scared in my life.” Lauri hurried into the living room to warm her hands by the wood stove. Will followed. “I just don’t think I’ll be able to do that. Handle a gun, I mean.”
“I think you’re going to have to figure out how to get past that, Mom,” he said as he extended his own hands toward the stove. “You didn’t see those guys that were outside. I think one of them was about to pull a gun on Elliott. It’s getting bad already, and it hasn’t even been a week. We have to learn how to defend ourselves.”
Lauri was wringing her hands anxiously. “I don’t know if I can, Will. Guns are so dangerous. All I can think is I might accidentally shoot one of you … one of us. I could never live with myself if something like that happened.”
“That’s why we’re training, so nothing like that happens.” Will turned around so his backside was toward the stove. “No one is going to hand you a gun and say, Here, good luck with that. But you need to learn, Mom. The world is changing — fast. We have to get ready for what’s coming.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to shoot someone, Will. I don’t think I could.”
“What if someone was pointing a gun at Carly or one of the boys? What if you were the only one that could stop them?”
Lauri didn’t answer. She was shaking her head and had tears streaming down her face. Will stepped over and wrapped his arms around her. “It’s okay, Mom. We’ll figure it out. Honestly, I don’t know if I can shoot someone either. I hope neither one of us has to find out.”
Lauri wiped her eyes and took a deep breath. “I think I’ll go start working on that inventory. Do you want to help?”
“Sure thing. If we have to work, inside work on a cold day like this is my choice.” Will grinned in an attempt to lighten the mood. It worked. Lauri smiled at her son.
“Amen, honey.”
“Focus on your breathing, Carly,” Amanda said from behind her. “Don’t think about anything but steady breathing.”
Carly’s finger twitched on the side of the barrel.
“No, keep your finger away from the trigger. We’re just breathing and getting used to holding the gun.” Amanda was speaking in a calm, even tone. There was almost a cadence to it.
Carly relaxed a bit, closed her eyes and stood there holding the pistol in front of her and breathing in and out slowly.
Carly opened her eyes. “I see it.”
“Good. Now, slowly move the barrel until the front sight dot is in line with the back-sight dots.”
Carly closed her right eye. Amanda saw this and said, “Wait, stop. Hand me the gun — safely.”
Carly knew what she meant after being admonished multiple times about watching the barrel. She pointed the pistol down at the ground and passed it to Amanda. “Did I do something wrong again? I’m never going to get this right.”
“No, no you didn’t do anything wrong. Elliott, I think I figured out what’s going on here.” Amanda had turned to Elliott with a big grin on her face.
“What is it?” Elliott asked, looking confused. “Is the weapon faulty?”
“Nope. Carly, hold your hand out like it’s a gun and line up on your fingertip.”
Confused herself, Carly did as instructed. She pointed her right finger and closed her eye. Her right eye.
Elliott’s face lit into a smile. “Holy cow! Now I know what’s wrong. Why didn’t I see that before?”
In an exasperated tone, Carly blurted out, “What? I’m hopeless, right? I suck at this.”
Elliott laughed. “No, Carly girl. You’re not hopeless. You’re right-handed and left eye dominant.”
Completely clueless, Carly replied, “Come again?”
“Watch me.” Amanda handed Elliott the gun Carly had been working with and simulated holding one using her hand as the gun. Closing her left eye, she said, “Do you see which eye I close automatically?”
Carly nodded. “Your left.”
“Right. Er, correct. Right-handed people are usually right eye dominant. But you automatically closed your right eye. That means you’re left eye dominant. It’s not that common but it is a thing. We just have to help you make your right eye dominant for shooting.”
“Or teach her to shoot left-handed,” Elliott added.
“I wonder which would be easier and faster?” Amanda queried thoughtfully.
“Let’s get her to try shooting lefty first. The problem is the brass ejecting in front of her eye is going to be distracting. Hang on a sec.” Elliott went to the bag they had brought and pulled out a small revolver. “Okay, Carly, try shooting this one with your left hand.”
Carly’s eyes grew wide. “Are you nuts? I can’t do anything with my left hand. Something as simple as stirring my coffee with that hand feels clumsy. I’m pretty sure trying to shoot with it is more dangerous than I already am.”
“Humor me.” Elliott handed her the Ruger LCR .38 special, after making sure it was loaded. “Just use your right hand to hold it steady.”
Doubt written on her face, Carly took the pistol in her left hand. “It feels weird.”
Elliott nodded. “It will at first. Take your time, line up on the target and give it a go.”
Carly hesitantly took the pistol, mindful of her trigger finger position, in her right hand. She switched to her left and lined up on the paper target. She looked at the gun for a moment then let it drop.
“There’s no back dots.” She raised it again to show them.
“There won’t be on that gun, honey. Just line that front sight up on the target. Let the sight cover what you’re aiming at.” Elliott pointed to the front sight. “Actually, this is an updated sight. That’s a night vision sight. Very helpful under low light conditions.”
Carly turned her attention back to the gun and the target in front of it. She took a deep breath, blew it out slowly, moved her trigger finger in place and squeezed. The recoil pitched the gun up in front of her. “Wow! That’s got a kick. A lot more power than the other one.”
She turned to look at the rest of the group. Everyone was smiling at her.
“What? What are you all grinning about? What’d I miss?” she asked suspiciously.
“Not the target,” Ethan said with a grin. He pointed down range to a pristine target save one hole a bit high and to the right. The body silhouette placed her shot squarely on the left shoulder.
“Oh. My. God. I hit it. I freakin’ hit it!” Carly started jumping up and down with her finger still on the trigger. Elliott quickly stepped over to her and grabbed the gun.
“No celebrating with a loaded weapon!” he barked at her. She calmed down but couldn’t hide her giddiness.
“I can’t believe it. All this time I thought I sucked at it. I was just doing it wrong for my brain.”
Aaron snickered. “Yeah, Mom, if anyone tells you you aren’t right in the head, you can tell them that actually you are.”
“Huh?” Cameron looked at his older brother. “What do you mean?”
“The left side of your brain controls the right side of your body and vice versa. So, if Mom is left eye dominant, the right side of her brain controls that.”
“No sh— um, I mean … wow. That’s amazing.” Cameron blushed as the almost verbalized expletive was quickly covered up. Not quite quick enough, though, from the scowls on the faces of his mother and both grandfathers. His father and brother, along with Amanda, were trying to hide their smiles and giggles.
“Well, I for one am tickled for you, darlin’,” Joel said as he draped an arm over Carly’s shoulders. It seemed a somewhat subtle attempt to take the focus off Cameron’s slip. “How did it feel?”
“Strangely, it felt right, Dad. Not weird like I thought it would. How come I shot to the right, Elliott? I was aiming for the middle.”
Elliott paused for a moment, then replied, “My guess is because you are, in fact, right-handed. Your dominant hand was trying to take over. Fortunately, you don’t have a lot of experience shooting yet so you haven’t built up muscle memory for this task. I think your left hand can do what it needs to do without interference from the right with a little practice. Great job, Carly girl! I knew you could do it.”
The right corner of Carly’s mouth turned up. “I didn’t. Can I try again, just to make sure it wasn’t a fluke?”
Everyone standing there looked around the group in awe.
“You actually want to shoot again?” Amanda asked, a look of surprise on her face.
Carly shrugged. “It felt better than before. And I actually hit the target. That was kind of … cool. There, I said it. I liked it.”
Elliott nodded. “Absolutely. Just take your time and get a little bit firmer grip on the gun with your left hand.”
Carly stepped up to the makeshift shooter’s bench. Concentration etched into her face, she chewed the edge of her bottom lip as she lined up her shot. She fired and barely flinched. She stared at the target. Perfect center mass shot.
She laid the revolver on the bench and turned to the shocked group. Hands on her hips, she boasted, “Okay. I think I’ve got this. I’m trained now.”
Elliott laughed as he shook his head. “Not by a long shot, missy. You’re going to have to hit that target consistently a lot more times than this and learn proper safe gun handling. But it is a good start. Okay, everybody, let’s get this stuff packed up and get back to the house. Plenty of work to be done yet today.”
“Aw, man, I wanted to shoot some more,” Cameron said in a whiny voice.
“The apocalypse isn’t going anywhere, Cam,” Joel replied. “You’ll have plenty of time to practice, too.”
They were heading back to the house when they heard an unfamiliar sound — unfamiliar to their current reality anyway. They all stopped in their tracks to listen.
It was a running vehicle.
~~~~~
After stumbling upon Elliott’s place, Cody Randolph was determined to get his hands on it. Not knowing for sure how many people they had, he thought doubling the number of his own men was a good and achievable goal.
They had driven down Highway 14 for a while but the further they got from Memphis, the less densely populated they found the surrounding area. He turned around and headed back the way t
hey had come.
“Change your mind?” Wayne Mitchell asked from the passenger seat.
“Only about where I’m going to look for people. I think I want to stick closer to the place we’re going to take so we can keep an eye on it. I don’t want anybody else coming in and thinking it’s up for grabs. Maybe some of his neighbors know how many people are staying there. No matter what — that place is ours.” Cody was increasing his speed slowly, since the road was still covered in snow, but it seemed to be getting slushy. He eased back the other direction. “And we’re keeping the blond and any other chicks they have in there.”
An evil gleam in their eyes, Bo Carver and Doug Hartman bumped fists in the back of the van.
“Warmth, water, and women,” Bo said with a leering grin. “That place is a triple win.”
Chapter 27
General Everley’s mood had not improved.
“I can’t believe they would even consider leaving us to fend for ourselves!” He was pacing the conference room, face red with anger, alternating between yelling out loud to no one in particular and mumbling expletives under his breath to himself. President-elect Roman tried to calm him down.
“Charles, please sit down and try to relax for a bit. You’re going to give yourself a heart attack or a stroke if you don’t, and I’m not sure what we have for medical personnel at the moment.”
Everley plopped down in one of the black leather chairs. “What are we going to do? How do we feed millions of people long-term, in the middle of winter, with no factories, no trucks or trains running, no communications — I don’t see how we can do it.”
“If the theories are to be believed, it won’t be that many for long,” Phil Roman replied solemnly. “Everyone on life support is gone by now. Everyone on oxygen will suffocate when the supply they have on hand is gone. Those who depend on dialysis or prescriptions to regulate their heart or blood pressure … it will truly become survival of the fittest.”
