“Bullshit!” My dad practically sprayed the word on the soldier.
To his credit, the soldier was smarter than average. He looked back at us kids and gestured for my dad to listen closer. The soldier was talking quietly in dad’s ear for a few seconds. My dad nodded, thanked the soldier and quietly drove up the ramp. We found ourselves back at the same gas station where we had filled up less than 90 minutes earlier.
Dad told us to wait, and slid out of the car. He talked to a couple by the pumps for a minute, and then marched across the parking lot to a group of people sitting on the hoods of their cars in the shade. They were all shrugging and waving arms in the direction of the highway. Dad nodded a few times and then walked into the store. He talked to the clerk, more shrugging, watched the TV up in the corner for a couple of minutes, and then disappeared behind a rack up against the front window.
Kirk was the first one of us to say anything. “Mom, what is going on? What’s all this stuff? What is Dad doing? Why can’t we get through?”
Mom was in lockdown mode. “Kirk, I can’t tell you much of anything. I’m hoping your father knows what’s happening. We’ll just have to wait and see.” The phrase “wait and see” was always code for “forget it.”
You could hear the exasperated breath from all of us. Those were the words of a parent keeping us in the dark. Lucy said, “Mom,” in that long, whiny, three syllable way that only teenage girls from the South can pronounce. Lucy looked about to continue, but realized that it was hopeless for the moment, and snapped her open mouth shut.
Dad came out of the store with three bags. One was full of convenience store hot dogs and probably 300 packets of ketchup and mustard, another full of little bags of chips, and a third full of cold drinks. We saw dad pull some disposable lighters, some batteries, and a map out of the chip bag before he announced, “Time for a picnic.” He pulled the wagon over to the shady area with the other groups, and got out. He dropped the tailgate on the back of the car, dug Tommy and me out of the pile, and told Kirk and Lucy to sit there. Tommy and I were jealous since they were taking our seat with the cup holders, until Dad lifted us up onto the roof, and we realized that cup holders were not everything. He handed us all a hotdog, chips, and a drink, and then he and mom got back in the front seat. We could hear them murmuring to each other but we were completely distracted by the food, the long line of cars on the interstate, and the weird combination of fear and excitement in the air.
Eventually, Dad got out and brought the rest of the food with him. Kirk and I happily took a second hot dog. We munched while Dad grimly watched the highway. Nobody had the courage to ask any questions. We could hear Mom talking on her cell phone, but could only make out a few words.
I remember looking up when a siren chirped, and I saw a red pickup truck with huge tires drive past the roadblock in the grass median between the two strips of asphalt. I got excited, thinking I was going to see a TV-style police chase. All that happened was a soldier leaned in a Humvee window for a second. The truck was out of sight down the hill in seconds, but soon we heard a loud burst from a machine gun, and a couple of minutes later, the red pickup was back with a gun mounted Humvee following him up the eastbound exit ramp. The truck pulled into our parking lot – it’s great to be a kid; we were there for all of twenty minutes and we already thought of it as ours – and the crowd around us began to cheer. A skinny guy with a wispy beard and no shirt got out and started yelling and flipping the bird at the Humvee. A soldier in full battle gear jumped out and made the guy get on the ground. Two more soldiers joined in and pointed their rifles at the man on the ground.
They checked his ID, and the first soldier told him loudly, “Mr. Jenkins. If you try anything like that again, I have about 80 soldiers who would be happy to fill that pretty truck with 50-caliber bullet holes.” The soldiers got back in the Humvee and they drove back down the ramp in the wrong direction. At eleven, I can tell you, the fact that they drove onto the interstate using the off ramp made a big impression. I think that’s when I knew something big was happening. As I watched the truck guy picking little bits of gravel out of his chest, I began to wonder what it might be.”
Terry had to shake his head back to reality when he realized that Bill had stopped talking. He had never heard a firsthand account of the beginning of the Breakdown, and he was fully absorbed in the tale. “Wow. That’s amazing, sir.”
“Call me Bill, ok? I’m not sure why I’m telling you this story. I don’t think I’ve even thought about it for years.”
“Well, sir… uh, Bill. I’d appreciate it if you would keep going.”
Bill took a deep breath, and said, “Ok, it’s not much of a tour, but if you really want to hear it…”
“Definitely.”
“Two hours later, every parking lot at busy Corner was crammed full of cars, trucks, RVs, and motorcycles. We had seen a few try to use the secondary roads to get around the road block, but they always came back with a sheriff’s deputy following them. Our car was buried in the lot behind at least six or seven cars, so we weren’t leaving any time soon. Tommy was napping in the back seat. He was only seven at the time. Mom always called him her happy little accident. I never knew what that meant until much later. My parents came around back and walked us over to the narrow strip of grass by the trees. By that time, we were totally familiar with the territory and the people around us. Everyone had grown tired of socializing and swapping stories and lots of folks were following Tommy’s lead, taking naps in their cars, or wherever they could find a quiet patch of shade. The end result was that we had enough space to talk without being overheard.
Dad pulled us in close and said, “Listen, Tommy doesn’t need to know this yet. Agreed?” We all nodded, knowing we were finally about to get some answers.
“Here’s what I know. You guys know about satellites?” We nodded again.
“Ok, well the Chinese launched a bunch of missiles to shoot down our satellites. They got a lot of them, ones that we use for military communications, phone and TV, taking pictures of the planet, and the ones that make my brand new dang GPS work. All of these satellites are very important to us. They make it possible to do a lot of the stuff we have to do every day. You guys with me so far?”
More nodding.
“Our leaders seem to have taken the Chinese attack very seriously, and we have shot back. We shot down their satellites first, and then launched a full-scale nuclear attack on China itself. We are sure that we got all their satellites, but we are not sure if they have nuclear missiles they can fire back at us. If they do, they will attack as many cities and military bases as they can. Any place they hit with a nuclear missile is gone, ok? Even if anything is left, people will get sick and die if they are too close, and nobody will be able to move back into those areas for a very long time.”
Lucy spoke up. “So, Daddy, does that mean we killed a lot of Chinese?”
“I’m sorry, honey, but yes. Millions probably.”
Lucy was quiet for a minute, and then said, “But Daddy, I thought you and Mom said that people are way more important than stuff, like satellites.”
“That’s true. I still say that, but the reason is that we didn’t know why they shot our satellites. They could have just been trying to take over the satellite business, or they could have been doing it to blind us so we wouldn’t see their missiles coming until too late. I’m sure our leaders thought that it was safer for America if they made sure that couldn’t happen. Either way, terrible things are happening right now.”
“Why can’t we just go home?” Mom asked.
“Well, the soldier I talked to told me that they were blocking the freeways off in case they needed to move the Army around. He also said that no city is safe until we know what’s really happening, and that was a good point. If Nashville is a target for nuclear missile, we don’t want to be anywhere close. I kinda doubt that, but there’s another reason. If people get too upset about what might happen, they will do all kinds of crazy stuff. People might panic. If that happens, it’s much safer out here in the country, just because there are less people. You can’t tell that right now though.” Dad looked around at the crowd.
Lucy was chewing her lower lip, which she always does when she’s worried. Kirk looked like he was ready to go fight the Chinese himself if he could join the Army at age 13. I wasn’t really too concerned myself. I understood from everyone else that this was bad, but for me, it was just an adventure on the side of the highway.
About that time, two patrol cars pulled up in the middle of the road. Four deputies got out and one switched on a megaphone. “Folks, sorry for the inconvenience today, but we have been told to take steps to ensure your safety. We’d like to ask anyone who can move their vehicle at this point to please drive right up here,” he pointed to the west, “To North Elementary. It’s right up there. We’d also like to remind you, for your safety, to make no attempt to drive anywhere else. We are setting up the school as a temporary shelter, and the shelter will be able to accommodate your needs. We hope to resolve the situation and get everyone on their way as soon as possible. Thank you for your cooperation.”
Two of the deputies, one on each side of the road, began directing traffic and the cars slowly filtered out of the parking lot. Another deputy was on the radio. After about half of the cars were gone, he waved at Deputy Megaphone, who picked up his loudspeaker. “Folks, we just a got a report that North Coffee is full. The rest of you good folks are asked to follow the military truck down there…“ He pointed the other way. “…to Hickerson Elementary. It’s a little farther down the road, but will be as well stocked as the other shelter very soon. Please proceed carefully. Thank you again for your cooperation.”
With fewer cars remaining, the lots were draining rapidly. Dad sent us back to our seats, where we had to burrow under all the stuff from Wal-Mart. He started the car and eased out into the long line heading down Highway 41. After a few minutes, we took a right, and then shortly, another left. Next thing we knew, somebody in an orange vest was waving us into the school parking lot. We followed the cars in front of us to a parking space on the grass, all the way into the back corner of the fenced school yard. Since we were trained from birth to despise sloppy parking, I remember thinking what a lousy parking job Dad did, but I quickly realized he was one step ahead of the crowd again. He left almost a full space between the station wagon and the back fence, and left the car sticking out so that there was at least a ten foot gap in front of the car.
“We were lucky. This is the best spot in the whole place,” Dad announced. We were baffled, of course. How could we possibly park any farther from the playground we had seen on the way in? “Let’s just wait a few minutes.”
When our corner of the yard was full and traffic was directed to another area, Dad started the car again and painstakingly turned it around, so that the back of the station wagon was facing the fence. Since no one was watching, he took the opportunity to cheat even more space on the fence-facing sides of the car. Mom watched him in wonder, until he told her, “No way they have cots and stuff here yet. I wanted more room to camp. And if we need to make a quick getaway, we’re facing in the right direction.” Mom still looked confused, and decided to compensate by rolling her eyes at him. He was kind of famous in our house for doing things that made no sense to the rest of us.
Dad said, “Kirk, you come with me. Everyone else, stay in the car. If anyone comes close, lock the doors and talk to them through a crack in the window, ok?”
A ragged chorus of agreement from the rest of us, except for Tommy, who was awake, but he still looked bleary-eyed and confused.
“Beth, try the radio and see if you can learn anything. We’re going to go see what the deal is, and we’ll be back as quick as we can.”
It was late in the day, the sun had just set, and we were beginning to wonder about the things kids do. Where’s dinner? Where do we sleep? Where can we get some TV or video games around here? Stuff like that…
We listened to the radio, hearing news that we didn’t understand about the Chinese, the North Koreans, Iran, Israel, the Middle East. Mom was taking notes on a little yellow pad, preparing for the details my Dad would surely want to know. People were out and walking around, but no one came close to us in the back corner. Thinking back, I imagine that what my dad saw as the best place to park, they saw as the darkest and scariest corner, the wild outback of the schoolyard, and maybe most importantly, the farthest from the restrooms and the unconscious feeling of security that indoor facilities provide. It was peaceful sitting as a family, windows down, an evening breeze stirring the few insects that had emerged early in the season, listening to the crispy murmur of the radio. We did not know it was the last peaceful evening we would have for years.
Dad and Kirk came back to the car. Mom pushed the lock switch and the electric locks chunked heavily. Dad waited until Kirk had burrowed into the backseat, watching the roaming people in the field before he got in himself. He first looked at my mother and held her eyes for a beat longer than normal, shook his head just a bit, and then he turned to all of us and made another big announcement, “Well gang. Looks like we’re going to camp out here tonight.” He smiled like it was another good time family adventure, but we already knew better.
As twilight settled in, Dad pulled a bundle out from under the tarp on the roof and starting assembling a big green and yellow tent. There was a fair amount of fumbling, grumbling and what my mom called ‘no-words’ being said, but Mom held the flashlight patiently and pretty soon, the tent was up. That’s when we understood that no matter how much we had heard our father complaining about people who could not park straight, he was always thinking about the next step. The tent fit between the side of the car and the back fence with about 3 feet to spare. Dad leaned in on Kirk and Lucy and pulled out some rolled up bundles. He tossed them into the tent, one by one until we counted eight bundles. Then he came around to the back, where Tommy and I were, and pulled our normal gym-bag luggage out from under our feet, and threw them on the grass. We thought the whole deal was weird. We had been camping before, but we thought of camping as a gravel patch in a state park with a picnic table, fire ring, water tap, and an electric outlet for each campsite.