Charges (16 page)

“So, Tony, are you actually going to try to walk all the way to Los Angeles?” Vivian asked.

“If there aren’t any planes, trains, or automobiles, then yeah. I’ll have to.”

“But there are some cars still running,” Vivian said. “The police have some.”

“What, you mean like motorcycles and ATVs? I’ve seen some of those. From the way people react, they’re pretty rare.”

“Actually, the police have a couple of classic cars and trucks,” Will said. “The chief has an older pickup from the seventies that still runs, and another officer has an old Bronco. That’s what they’re using now for patrol. And a few folks here in town have cars that still run—older, restored cars they used to bring to auto shows and the like.”

Vincenzo nodded. “Makes sense. Anything without an electronic ignition should be all right.”

“Well, this will all be over soon, if what we hear is true,” Vivian said. “FEMA is going to be setting up in the area over the next few days, and the state is going to be calling up the National Guard. It won’t be long until things are back to normal.”

Vincenzo pulled off his cap and ran a hand through his sweat-matted hair. “Well, I hope you’re right, but I’m going to go on pretending that things are in the hopper for the long term.”

Vivian pouted, and her bright green eyes flickered in the morning light. “Why would you say that? You need to stay upbeat, Tony!”

“Ah, honey, Tony’s seen some bad things in New York,” Will said. He smiled at Vincenzo. “Vivvy’s a diehard optimist. I don’t doubt what she’s saying, but we haven’t seen what you have.”

Vivian harrumphed. “Well, that’s New York, of course.”

“I’m not the only one who’s left the city,” Vincenzo said. “When I came across the bridge yesterday, there were at least ten thousand people with me. As things get worse, more folks will try to leave. And the predators are out in force. They’ll be following along, taking whatever they want.”

“The police will stop them,” Vivian said.

“And take a look around, Tony,” Will added. “We’re not entirely defenseless. I don’t approve of it personally, but a lot of folks are openly carrying guns right now.”

“I see that,” Vincenzo said, “but I don’t know how much of a difference that’s going to make, especially once the winter season sets in. How many people are really prepared to rough it through a long, cold winter? One percent, maybe? And Jersey is a big gun-control state, right? Just like New York and California and Connecticut. There are a lot fewer weapons here, which means there’s a lot less deterrent. I hear what you’re saying about the police, but what happens if the government really
can’t
help in the long term? How long before the cops fade away? Not because they want to, but because they have to?”

Vivian clucked her tongue. “So much doom and gloom! Really, Tony, you need to let God take over for a while. He’ll sort everything out.”

Vincenzo picked up his coffee cup. “I sure hope so.”

Will laughed. “Wow, you really
are
a lapsed Catholic!”

Vincenzo only smiled and went back to his meal. He didn’t want to ruin the day for Will and his wife. They seemed perfectly content to put their heads in the sand and pretend everything was going to be fine. And he was perfectly content to let them think that way. In another few days, Will and Vivian and the rest of the holy rollers might get wise, or they might get a very unwelcome wakeup call from the hordes that would be marching into their idyllic neighborhood. He thought of the young boy down the street, still waiting for his father. Things would be tough for him, especially if his neighbor didn’t step up. So he listened to Will and Vivian chatter away, nodding and making agreeable noises when he had to. But soon after he finished his breakfast and found a bottle of water to wash down some more Tylenol, he was ready to go.

“Folks, thank you immensely for your hospitality, but I have to get back on the road,” he said, standing and reaching for his packs. “I appreciate you making me feel welcome.”

“Do you have to leave so soon?” Vivian said. “We still have lunch and dinner. The church is putting out everything.”

Vincenzo swung into his backpack then draped the knapsack’s strap over his shoulder. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ve got a long trip ahead of me. The sooner I get back to it, the sooner it’ll be over.”

“You think you have a chance of getting to LA before winter sets in?” Will asked. “You’re headed for some tough territory, and just in case the power doesn’t come back on…”

Vincenzo shrugged. “If I can get through the higher elevations before September, I should be okay.”

“We’ll pray for you,” Vivian said, rising with Will.

“And I’ll pray for you guys. Remember, a lot of people are going to be heading this way. Not all of them are going to be nice, and they probably won’t let you know that until the very last second. So keep your guard up.”

Will laughed. “You make it sound like all of Harlem is coming.”

Vincenzo considered that. “And maybe they are. But I want you to remember one thing: a man with starving or sick kids will do anything.
Anything
. Keep that in mind.” From the corner of his eye, he saw several other travelers getting up and heading back to the street. He would have company on the road, something he didn’t look forward to, but there was no way around it. Everyone was moving while the weather held.

“I hope you’re wrong about that,” Will said.

“Yeah, me too. But don’t count on it.” Vincenzo nodded again. “Thank you. And good luck.”

13

A few miles away, the road changed names again, from Degraw Avenue to East Main Street. The residential neighborhoods were slowly falling behind as he marched into an area a sign proclaimed Oscar E. Olsen Park. More people were milling about, lounging on the grass, and making use of whatever services they could find there. A small presence of state police were on duty, providing security for the small aid station that had been set up to dispense water and give first-aid treatment.

Vincenzo didn’t like being caught in a crowd. It made him tense, waiting for someone to attack him or to try to take his packs. But no one did. He smelled barbeque cooking, and off to his left, kids played softball in a field while a group of parents worked over several grills. Vincenzo wasn’t hungry, but he thought some barbeque might hit the spot. But he would have to leave the road and head over to see if anyone was in a giving mood, and that wasn’t happening.

The steel plank bridge that extended over the Hackensack River was a crowded affair as well, as hundreds of anglers had descended upon the span to try their luck. Some had hauled in eels, perch, and even sizeable striped bass. Vincenzo had never been much of a fisherman, but he had fished in Long Island Sound and, on rare occasions, the Atlantic. He found it encouraging that people were able to land some decent fish, and he wondered if he should look for a small rod. He thought back to the TV commercials he had seen in the early 1980s that featured such a device, something he’d always thought was pretty stupid even back then.
The Pocket Fisherman, that’s what it was. Could come in handy now, huh?

As he crossed the bridge, the heat of the sun beat down on him. He was sweating heavily, and the time was about right to take in some more water. It took him roughly five minutes to cross the three-hundred-foot span, and on the way, he noticed more people were picking their way across a railroad bridge several hundred feet to the south. Some boats were in the water, including a few with small outboard engines that puttered along. For an instant, Vincenzo almost allowed himself to be lulled into thinking that, maybe, things weren’t as dire as he thought they were.

Then he noticed the columns of black smoke rising into the air from somewhere around Teterboro. And he remembered the man who wanted to murder him on the GWB. That dispelled any fanciful notions he might have developed of finding a safe place to hunker down and wait for the lights to come back on. It wasn’t going to happen.

He reached a split in the lanes. In the center of a grassy median stood a blue sign that read:

WELCOME TO

HACKENSACK

Established 1693

Vincenzo took cover in the lee of a large building on the left side of the road and crouched to retrieve a bottle of water from his knapsack. He cracked it open and drank slowly. He was a little worried about the water situation. While he had more than enough for the moment, it wasn’t going to last for long as he traveled through the early summer heat. He figured he could make it last another three days, then he’d be up shit creek without a paddle.

He pulled out his map and checked his route. He would need to deviate to the south to Court Street before he resumed walking in a more easterly direction, picking up on Essex Street. He would avoid the more built-up sections of town and roughly parallel what he thought was another residential community. Once he made it to the Interstate 80 overpass, he’d change course once more, again turning south and walking along the eastern edge of the Riverside Cemetery.

People are just dying to get in there,
he thought, smiling at his own grim humor. He had no doubt that the mortuary business was about to experience a boom.

“Hey, guy, got a second?”

Vincenzo looked up from his map to see a man with a beard, broad shoulders, and a beer gut well past the incubation stage walking toward him. The guy wore a hefty hiking pack on his back, which pulled his olive-colored Life is Good T-shirt tight across his chest. A slender woman followed, and she also wore a hiking pack. The man had a floppy boonie hat on his head and carried a tall walking stick. The woman had a kerchief wrapped around her skull. Vincenzo cursed himself for not keeping one eye out. As he folded his map and slipped it inside his knapsack, his fingers brushed the lukewarm shape of the Glock.
Take it easy, hoss. They look pretty well equipped for a long walk.
He rose to his feet. “What’s up, guys?” He thought the man looked familiar and wondered if he had seen him back at the church breakfast.

“We don’t mean any harm,” the man said, slowing and holding up his hands. “I can see you’re armed.”

Vincenzo glanced down. When he had crouched down, his shirt had ridden up, exposing the Beretta. “We’re cool,” he told the man. “What can I do for you guys?”

The woman was standing behind her companion and off to one side. Her thumbs were hooked in the shoulder straps of her pack, and sweat ran down her face in rivulets.

“We saw you at the breakfast,” the man said.

Vincenzo nodded. “Yeah, I think I saw you, too.”

“Listen, we overhead some of the conversation you were having with the church people. We know you’re headed to Los Angeles,” the man said.

“Okay. And?”

“Can we come closer? We don’t have any weapons.” The man lifted the big walking stick. “Well, except for this.”

Vincenzo considered it. “Sure. It’s still a free country, right?”

The man smiled and stepped off the road and onto the grass. He half-turned and beckoned the woman to follow. She seemed hesitant as she watched Vincenzo with nervous eyes. Vincenzo nodded to her then looked back at the man. He remained mindful of the walking stick. Even though the man’s body language didn’t indicate he was looking for trouble, Vincenzo figured it would be pretty dumb to fall into full-on kick-back mode.

The man let out a sigh as he stepped into the shade afforded by the big building to Vincenzo’s back. “It’s good to get out of the sun for a while.”

“It is. So what can I do for you folks?” Vincenzo asked. “Are you headed to LA as well?”

“No, no. Cincinnati. We were going to go hiking in the Catskills, and we’d stopped to visit friends in Englewood when the pulse hit. Fried my Subaru, so we’re on foot. Like you are, I guess.”

“Yeah, my Range Rover’s a very expensive and very large paperweight right now,” Vincenzo said.

“Of course, we wouldn’t have this trouble if
someone
had let me buy that diesel truck I wanted,” the man said, glancing back at the woman. She rolled her eyes, her lips compressed into a tight line.

Vincenzo had to smile at the age-old sign of marital discord. “So you guys walked down from Englewood? Have any trouble?”

The man shook his head. “No, not really. But it’s coming, which is why we wanted to talk to you. I figure you’re more or less heading in the same direction. Maybe we could travel together?”

Vincenzo studied the couple. “Well. I don’t really know you guys.”

The man smiled broadly beneath his beard. “Well, I can solve that! I’m Rob Ackerman, and this is my wife, Jody.” Rob switched the walking stick from his right hand to his left and leaned toward Vincenzo, hand extended.

Vincenzo reluctantly shook hands, mindful of the fact that his Beretta was set up for a right-handed draw. “Tony Vincenzo. Good to meet you guys.”

“Yeah, it is. Anyway, we figure a group might have an easier time on the road. Not such an easy target,” Rob said.

“Makes sense. My route doesn’t take me very close to Cincinnati, though. I’ll pass south of Columbus, but that’s about as close as I get.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” Rob said. “We’ll peel off when we get closer to home plate. Though maybe we’ll find some transportation along the way, so you can keep on going. Like I said, diesels will still work, and so will a lot of older vehicles. Even airplanes, like older Cessnas and Pipers.”

Vincenzo perked up. “You a pilot?”

Rob nodded. “Yes. Well, I should qualify that. I
was
a pilot, but I haven’t had the opportunity to fly in over five years.” He paused for a few beats. “For the same reason I don’t have a gently used F-250 with a diesel under the hood.”

“Oh, for the love of God,” Jody said, sounding exasperated. “Why don’t you just blame
everything
on me?”

Rob laughed. “That’s in process, babe. I’ve been waiting for this opportunity for a long, long time.”

Vincenzo chuckled. “So, about airplanes. You might not know this, but Teterboro has a pretty big airport. It’s maybe two or three miles south of us.”

“I know it,” Rob said, bobbing his head. “It’s a big general aviation airport. Lots of jets down there, but I was thinking of”—he reached into a pocket on his backpack and pulled out a worn road atlas—“the Essex County airport, right here.” He pointed out the location.

Vincenzo examined the map then nodded. “My planned route takes me right past it. But why there instead of Teterboro?”

Rob gestured at the southern horizon. “Because I’m thinking it’s on fire.”

Vincenzo turned. Sure enough, thick clouds of black, oily smoke roiled in the distance. “Oh, yeah. I hadn’t thought that’s what was burning up. Makes sense, I guess, probably lots of fuel over there.”

“Well, there was,” Rob said. “Anyway, I’m not certain I can get us a plane wherever we go. But it’s a thought.”

“Not a bad one.”

“So, what do you think, Tony?” Rob asked. “Should we team up?”

Vincenzo looked from Rob to Jody and back again. They
seemed
like nice enough people, but trusting other folks probably wasn’t that great of an idea. And just because they said they didn’t have weapons didn’t mean anything. Even if they didn’t have any guns on them, they very likely had knives, which meant he might wake up one night with one of them conducting a tonsillectomy on him from the outside in.

“So, no weapons, huh?” he asked. “Not even a little folding pocketknife?”

“We have knives,” Rob said. “But the last thing I want to do is get into a knife fight with someone. I don’t have those kinds of skills.”

“All right. Anything else I should know about?”

Rob hesitated, and Jody stared at his profile. Something was wrong.

Vincenzo took a step to one side, his right hand drifting toward the Beretta. “What’s up, guys?” he asked.

“Jody’s pregnant,” Rob blurted. “We really need to get back to Ohio. In a couple of months, she’s going to start to show, and that could lead to some unwanted attention.”

That wasn’t what Vincenzo had been expecting. He raised an eyebrow. “What, you think roving OB/GYNs are going to descend on her?”

If Rob thought the comment was even remotely humorous, it didn’t show. “A pregnant lady looks like a target,” he said, his voice cold and flat. “I don’t want her out on the road for any longer than absolutely necessary, and it’s another reason I was hoping to be able to join up with you. We’ll watch your back, so long as you help me watch hers.”

Vincenzo sensed the desperation in the man’s words, even if it was absent from his voice. And there was a cast of fear in Jody’s eyes that she tried hard to suppress.

Vincenzo sighed and pulled his shirt down over his pistol. He glanced at his watch. It was just past twelve thirty. “All right. I’ll help you guys out. I’ve already had two people try to kill me for my stuff, so you’ll have to pardon me when I tell you to lead. I’ll be right behind you.”

Jody shook her head at Rob. “I don’t like the idea of a guy with a gun behind us.”

Rob regarded Vincenzo speculatively. “Me either,” he said, “but that’s probably the price we’ll have to pay.”