Authors: J. Richardson
There
was an instantaneous bee hive of activity as far as Jack could see.
Drivers and passengers piled out of vehicles, some cursed, some were
looked around for an answer. Nearly all poked frantically at cell
phones like chickens on a bug. People drifted out of businesses and
houses near the highway. Gas pumps at the two or three stations were
dead, no blinking signs, no brightly lit cold drink cabinets, no
music floated around. There was only the clamor and wondering
chatter, a couple of dogs barked in someone's back yard.
Jack
didn't have to think very long. If the lights went off and all
digital display flashed, that could be a dozen causes. If the
electric went black and every vehicle on the road stood dead still,
that was something all together different. He needed to think, needed
to take action. This was not going to get fixed in a short while, he
dug around in his console and thought about what he could use. He had
attended classes and got his Concealed Weapon permit about a year
before. Not that he hadn't known how to use a gun since he was just a
teen. Practically every young man from his generation grew up
hunting. A Marine vet, he knew about guns. A legal Smith and Wesson
.380 Automatic in a small canvas case was on his belt, in the truck
door pocket was a .45 Automatic. There were extra ammo clips for
both. The problem was he hadn't put a back pack or bag in his truck
today. That .45 was heavy and what about that booze? He was not going
to leave it here on the side of road to be looted. He checked out the
highway behind him, he spotted the top of his golf bag in the bed of
the truck.
Of course, that's it,
h
e
could empty the clubs into the back seat. The bag and the wheeled
caddy, he could fill with what he needed and pull it home.
A
very few folks moved back into their houses and returned to the
convenience stores. Mostly they just loitered around and questioned
each other, they waited...waited for help that Jack was pretty
certain would not be happening anytime soon. The truck was a two
seat, four door model, he manually reached around and locked the two
passenger side doors, locked the driver's door as he pulled it shut
behind him. Lots of assorted characters were moving around, he
thought,
time to get my head in this and pay attention
. He
went to the back, dropped the tail gate and pulled out the golf bag
with clubs and the caddy. He opened the back side door and started
unloading the clubs into the back floor board. “Aay mister, ya
got a cell phone that's working?” The voice right behind him
nearly made him piss his pants. Before he turned, wanting to bite
some fool's head off, he told himself,
just take it easy, these
people don't have a clue what's going on and you don't want any
problems with anyone.
He turned to see a slim young man pushing
his longish curly hair behind his ear and standing with his hands
stuffed down in his jean's pocket. The kid wore a tight T-shirt, the
logo on it was way beyond Jack's savvy of current trends and his
scruffy tennis shoes kicked at the gravel.
Jack
let his breath out slow, “No son, I don't think anybody's cells
are working”.
“
Well,
that sucks!” the young man just stood
there
and looked around, kind of lost. “You gonna walk to the golf
course, mister?” He had
spotted
Jacks
clubs and bag.
“
No,
I am going to load this bag up, put it on that caddy and head out. I
have to get into town and I am pretty busy right now,”
impatiently answered Jack.
“
Uh-huh,”
and he still just stood there.
Jack
rubbed his hand across his stubbled jaw, scoped out the milling
crowd, “Kid, who are you with?”
“
Names'
Cody and I'm not with anybody. See that piece of crap little car over
there?” he pointed
at
a faded green compact, “I was just going to get a six pack of
beer and....”
“
Beer!”
said Jack.
Cody
stood up straighter, “Yeah, I'm twenty one”.
“
Uh-huh”,
said
Jack.
He looked
the
boy up and down and saw
that
uncertainty that youth often adorns all of us with. The older man
just
didn't have any patience for pinheads but something about Cody
softened him a bit. Maybe, he reminded
him
a bit of his oldest grand son. “Tell you what, kid. You go on
over to that convenience store and when I get packed up, I'll come
over and buy you a cola or water.”
The
whiskey bottles came out of the sacks and he put them in the bottom
of bag, also Beth's wine. He opened the driver's door, checked to see
that no one was really paying attention. Nope, folks still milled
around, held useless phones in the air and waited for the Calvary. He
removed the .45 in it's soft case and the extra ammo clips for the
.380 and zipped them up in the side pocket of the bag. In his console
he rummaged around and found a small flashlight, some strike on
anything matches, his pocket knife, some chap stick and his ever
present headache pills. He also grabbed his glasses, the ones he wore
when his contacts irritated him beyond his endurance and a pair of
sunglasses. As much as he despised those slimey perfumey wipe things
that Beth insisted on having in the vehicles, he stuck the package in
the bag. The sun was pretty bright and they might come in handy
before this adventure was over. He pulled out a bag of tobacco. “I
know, I know” he mumbled to himself, should have give this up a
long time ago. Years ago, he had some heart problems and he had to
give up the cigars but he just never was quite able to one hundred
percent ditch that nicotine habit. The old compass wedged against the
side of the console, that could be useful. He added the “chew”
and compass to his pile in the bag. He looked once at the cell phone
that mostly stayed in the truck, the one he never remembered to
charge. No matter, he had this gut feeling that they were all just
going to be door stops for a long time.
He
checked his cash and pulled his cap down, closed and locked the
doors. One last look at his truck, if things were going down like he
thought they were, locks were not going to make a tinker's dam bit of
difference. He tried to mentally click off, was there anything else
in this vehicle that he did not want to lose forever? He opened the
truck back up, pulled up the back seat and removed the rolled up
pouch of hand tools. Two of the heaviest golf clubs he poked down in
the bag and dropped the pouch in, turned and locked all the doors
again.
With
the loaded bag strapped to the caddy he moved towards the convenience
store. Cody sat out front and smiled as he walked up. “Aay,
what's your name, mister?”
“
Jack”,
he pulled
on
the glass door of the store.
“
Well,
Jack, they said nobody comes in because they don't have any power,”
said
the
young man.
“
Oh,
Bulls—t!” he pounded
on
the door and yelled
at
the guy he saw
behind
the counter. The man came
to
the door, he did not unlock it. “Hey, man, I got cash. Just
bring me 3 bottles of water and a Snickers bar and some of those
cheese crackers and a jerky stick...wait,” he looked
at
Cody, “What cha' want kid?”
“
Um-m,
a Dr Pepper, some chips and a Snicker,” said the kid.
“
You
get all that? Make it four
bottles
water,” Jack barked
at
the clerk. The guy frowned
but
he went
around
and gathered
up
stuff, asked
once
or twice, “What did you say?” The aggravated man
unlocked,
opened
the
door a crack and said, “That'll be fifteen
bucks”.
Jack slid a twenty in, took
the
supplies and said
thanks.
He
put everything but the cheese crackers and a water in his bag, gave
the kid his snacks. He looked at his watch, it was after 12:00. “Boy,
I've got to get on the move. I figure I am at least 12 to 14 miles
from home and it will take me till after dark to get there.”
Jack reached out to shake the kid's hand.
Cody
sipped the still cool soda and said, “If you don't mind, I'll
just walk along with you. I stay with my uncle and he lives just a
mile or so out of town, on this highway.”
Jack
was not exactly sold on the company of a stranger, there was really
no time to argue. He grabbed hold of the caddy, thank goodness he had
on his tennis shoes. As the Spring day stretched out, it might be a
little chilly for his denim shorts. Most likely, if he held up to 12
miles of walking, cool would be the least of his complaints. Cody
fell in beside him, he balanced the soda and ate from the bag of
chips. They had reached the edge of the highway when a rusty old
truck came weaving it's way between the frozen vehicles on the
highway. It rumbled along, to the amazement of all that still stood
around. The bent up bed was stacked with bags of some kind of feed or
fertilizer and a dog with startling blue eyes balanced on top of
them. The elderly man driver in the well worn cowboy hat, had his
windows rolled up and ignored the existence of everyone. A guy ran up
behind the truck and attempted to jump up in the back. A snarling,
snapping furry mouth put an end to that attempt and the truck weaved
it's way forward. Jack had to smile, he had a notion that this was
going to get interesting.
***
Beth
dropped the peek hole shut and got up out of the chair. She said
outloud to herself, “Okay old girl, this is not helping one
bit.” Then thought,
Looking out the window for hours is just
not going to make Jack get home sooner. Whatever is going on, nobody
really has a handle on it yet. Things are not that intense on the
streets yet. It is still hours before dark. Jack's goal will be to
get home.
Even though they were neither one what you would call
“spring chickens” and even though he experienced health
problems in the past years, she really trusted in his strength. When
they met way back in high school, he was very athletic. His career
choice, fire department, had given him emergency and quick response
training. Jack kept calm and reacted quickly to crisis situations.
She
pondered
whether
he would
go
to the home of some long time friends that lived
on
the lake. They, like many of their friends, were not fanatical
doomsday preppers. However, they
all
came from a time when if not so much your parents but your
grand-parents believed in being prepared for hard times. Those
lessons seemed to stick. Have some extra food on the shelf, take care
of what you have worked hard to earn, keep things in repair and learn
to fix them yourself, have some cash hid away. Oh, they
all
lived
neck
deep in the
prosperous
modern world, cell phones, big tv's, nice cars, comfortable homes,
dinners out and vacations. Still, they had
been
around long enough with the echos of long gone ancestors whispering
caution in their
ears,
to believe that all was fragile. A sharp,
tap-tap-tap
at
the window made
Beth
jump and she immediately reached
for
the revolver on the table.
“
Jack...Beth,
are you there?”
Beth,
exhaled. It was Joel, a friend that used to work with Jack. He lived
about a half mile behind them, if you cut straight through the woods
that backed up to the addition. “Go to the front door, Joel”.
Beth opened the locks, let Joel in and locked back up behind him.
They had always laughed and called Joel,
old gloom and doom.
He
had a bit of a negative attitude but he was a good guy and extremely
intelligent.