A New World: Chaos (19 page)

We proceed along this strange procession until, up ahead, I see the traffic jam has continued up the ramp of the next exit.
 
Cars are completely blocking all lanes of the ramp and I see the jam continuing across the overpass.
 
Again, the light bulb brings clarity to the fog of the unknown.
 
This is the exit to the hospital.
 
Okay, note to self:
 
the hospital areas and roads leading to it will most likely be blocked.
 
I imagine all the roads leading to the hospital are blocked like this.
 
The on ramp to the southbound lanes remains clear.
 
Funny how we tend to be such cattle at times
.
 
Why didn’t they think to just use the other lanes?
 
Well, that is a Monday quarterback-type of question.
 
I might have done the same thing
.

Passing by the off ramp, I notice a couple of bodies on the sides of road leading upward.
 
I guess people just got tired of waiting and tried to walk to the hospital.
 
That’s why I don’t see anyone in the cars
.
 
I also see cars now backed up in the southbound lanes leading to the hospital off ramp.
 
The road clears on our side and I accelerate.
 
I start hoping the off ramps to McChord and
Fort
Lewis
aren’t like this; or worse.
 
I am not so keen on having to walk to the flight line with all of our gear.
 
And yes, I am aware these two installations had recently merged.
 
It is just that I still think of them by their former names.
 
Just past the exits, five dogs stand on a grassy slope next to the road.
 
Their heads turn slowly as one as we pass slowly by.
 
Our heads turn just like theirs as we watch them.
 
Once past them, I look into the rearview and see them trot toward the long line of cars.

About ten miles further north, the main
Fort
Lewis
exit appears.
 
There is no traffic in or out of this gate.
 
Traffic barricades are in the road out front and the gate is shut.
 
There is no movement whatsoever at the entrance gate.
 
The first visible buildings of Fort Lewis appear on the right behind a barbed wire topped, chain link fence as we drive a little further north; a few office type buildings and then family housing units.
 
I have passed by many times and have yet to see anyone moving about the area so seeing no one there is not all that strange.

There are a few more cars pulled off the road as we progress further north.
 
We pass by an overturned semi in the south lanes that appears to have slid off the road.
 
It seems so strange that we haven’t seen a soul.
 
I mean, there should have been someone about.
 
Even with the supposed CDC odds of immunity.
 
But nothing greets our journey but the grass, trees, blue sky, and empty, gray lanes.
 
The off ramp to another Fort Lewis exit is as clear as the first.
 
I can’t see the gate from the road but imagine it would look the same – closed.
 
I am not sure, but this also may be the entrance for
Madigan
Hospital
as well.
 
Apparently the Army was a little better, or more persuasive, at turning people away.
 
Perhaps something to do with the quarantine I read about.

A blue sign stating “McChord AFB Next Exit” stands by the side of the road ahead of us.
 
I slow and move over to the right lane.
 
Robert, behind me, does the same.
 
I really want to take the exit further up by the mall but I know there is a hospital at that exit and I don’t want to be blocked.
 
Pulling over to the side of the Interstate, I turn off the Jeep and exit.
 
Nicole and Bri, taking this as a clue, get out as well and walk to the back of the Jeep.
 
Robert and Michelle, seeing me get out and apparently deciding I want them to do the same, get out and meet me.

“The gate is off the next exit to the right,” I tell them.
 
“I don’t know what to expect so I’m going to go up there alone in the Jeep.
 
If I’m not back within thirty minutes, assume something happened.
 
You four get in the car as best as you can and get back to Grandma’s house.
 
Understood!”

“Dad?
 
Maybe we shouldn’t do this,” pipes up Nicole.

“It’ll all be okay, hon.”

“Can’t we just go with you?”
 
Bri asks

“No, babe.
 
I really don’t know what to expect so want to scout this one alone.
 
Okay, any questions?”

“What about if we just go to the top of the ramp and watch from there?”
 
Robert chimes in.

“Okay, fine!
 
You can drive to the top but stop a little before you get there.
 
Then you can walk to the intersection.
 
But for god’s sake, don’t go all of the way into the intersection and make yourself totally visible,” I say in exasperation, feeling my hair go a shade grayer.

Stepping back into the Jeep, I crank it up and turn right at the top of the ramp where I am immediately met with a closed gate.
 
Well, I didn’t make it very far
.
 
I get out and step up to the gate.
 
It is a chain link gate topped with barbed wire and operated by a motor driving a chain which then propels the gate open and closed.
 
The motor is located at the base of the fence by where the gate withdraws.

With the sun staring me in the eyes, I look up the road through the gate.
 
The roads bends slightly to the right with trees alongside, hiding the security point.
 
There are no sounds except for the occasional chittering of small animals as they scurry amongst the bushes and the sound of a light breeze as it blows across the tops of the trees.
 
I make out what appears to be a body in the middle of the road where it bends.
 
Are
they under a ‘shoot on sight order’?
 
Is there still anyone there at the checkpoint?

I grab a section of the gate fencing and pull as I ponder my approach.
 
I am not too keen to take a round just for showing up at the party
.
 
Let’s see, how best to not get shot?
I think pulling harder on the gate.
 
The gate doesn’t move in its tracks more than a couple inches so I head to the gate end keeping an eye up the road.
 
Grabbing hold of the aluminum post on the gate end, I pull to the side attempting to open the gate.
 
Other than moving a few inches, it holds firm.
 
I put my foot to the end fence post and strain once again.
 
The fence holds firm initially but then, with a jarring clank, it opens about four inches.
 
The gearing teeth on the motor or chain gave slightly.
 
Another try but apparently, the gate, anticipating this move, holds firm once again.
 
Heading back to the Jeep, I glance back down the road towards the ramp to see the four of them looking at me with hands to forehead shielding their eyes.

Grabbing my wire cutters and a couple of screwdrivers out of my tool box, I walk back to the mule-headed gate.
 
I snip the wires holding the chain link to the post along the side as far as I can reach up and a few along the bottom.
 
Enough so that I can peel the fencing back and slip through.
 
Taking a look around me, I walk over to the gate motor.
 
I unfasten the housing around the chain driving the gate and take the chain off the gear wheel with the screwdrivers similar to the way you take a tire off a bike.
 
The gate moves freely back as I pull it toward me.
 
Okay, we don’t have to walk.
 
Well, from here at least
.

I debate walking up to the bend in the road but decide to drive for a couple of reasons.
 
Driving will give me a certain amount of protection in case I am fired on plus it will give anyone at the checkpoint notice that someone is coming, giving them time to think rather than react as they might if I just materialized on the road.
 
There is another factor – If humans are at the gate, they know anyone driving is as well.
 
I am quite sure these “things” aren’t just driving around in the middle of the day and so, hopefully, it will give notice to anyone there that I am quite human.
 
I can’t label whatever these “things” are.
 
To me, there is human, these “things”, and the dead.

I pull the gate the rest of the way open, walk back to the Jeep, and put away the tools.
 
Climbing back in, I start slowly up the road keeping to the middle.
 
As I drive forward, more of the road that was hidden by the bend appears and I see bodies lying both on the road and alongside it.
 
Warily, I drive to the bend and stop before reaching the first body.
 
The road continues to a set of checkpoints similar to double-sized toll booths that are connected together by a single, overhead roof; the inbound lanes split into several ones; each to a booth.
 
The traffic barricades are down in the lanes.
 
One lane curves off to the right to a visitor center with a small parking lot in front.
 
There is an exit lane passing by the security point but it is blocked by a Humvee.
 
I see the silhouettes of more Humvees parked behind the booths.

A few bodies lie on the ground; from here all of the way up to the checkpoint and scattered throughout the area.
 
I look for any sign of movement but see nothing but the tip of the trees bending in the breeze.
 
With the engine running, I step out slowly and take another step or two away from the Jeep with my arms raised fully expecting a call from a bullhorn, a warning shot, something.
 
Nothing.
 
Keeping my arms up, I step next to the first body noticing several bullet wounds in the chest, abdomen, and legs.
 
The skin has turned that reddish color.
 
Putting my arms down, I survey the area for a few moments before heading back to the Jeep.

Climbing in, I drive slowly toward the checkpoint weaving slightly to avoid the bodies, each one with a sunburned look.
 
All of them have bullet wounds of some sort; some whole, others with a limb or face or most of a head missing.
 
I can feel my stomach clinch as I approach.
 
Parking about twenty feet from the booths, I notice a black boot sticking out of one of the booth doors with the toes pointed skyward.
 
My vision past the checkpoint is blocked by the Humvees parked lengthwise across the road.
 
I step out into the shadow of the booths cast by a sun still low in the sky and notice just a hint of an odor in the air; like the beginning of milk souring.

Still not knowing what to expect or if there are any security personnel about, I leave my gun holstered.
 
An armed person with a weapon ready will bring about a supersonic, steel-core bee quicker than one without a weapon in hand.
 
I haven’t been stung to this point and am looking to keep it that way.
 
Edging slowly in a circular fashion up to the booth with the boot sticking out, I notice shell casings on the ground around the booth and behind it.
 
Reaching the open door and stepping up to the opening, my heart jumps up a notch at the same time as a twist of nausea grips my stomach.

Lying before me, stretched across the booth, is what must have been one of the base security personnel.
 
It is absolutely unidentifiable as to what gender it once was.
 
The pants and left shirt sleeve are completely shredded revealing devastation beneath.
 
The skin and most tissue have been removed from the arms, legs, and face leaving behind only bits of tissue, tendons, and dried blood still clinging to the bone.
 
Dried blood lays everywhere with shell casings littering the floor.
 
The right arm, from the elbow down, lies close to the body with the still intact portion of the sleeve surrounding it; the hand still gripping a Beretta 9mm pistol with the slide back and locked open signaling an empty chamber and magazine.
 
The right leg is completely missing from the knee down.
 
The only intact portion of uniform is a combat vest still attached to the torso and the boot pointing skyward at my feet.
 
Small bits of intestines and organs poke out between the pelvic bones.