Dystopia Road, page 10
part #1 of Dystopia Road Series
It sounded too good to be true, but when he got off the exit, he found that it was. It was gas station and convenience store. The lights were on and there was somebody lined up getting gas. An attendant was pumping the gas.
He pulled the truck in in the island closest to the store. The man pumping gas at the next island yelled to him. "We'll be right with you. Just need to fill up this guy and we'll get you all filled up. Is that what you want? A fill up? It's only ten bucks a gallon, we got plenty."
"Yeah. He said. How do you get power?"
"Company back east sent out a big old convoy of trucks with diesel generators. They filled up our diesel tank and about half filled out gas tanks. We only got regular, no premium. Go on in there and get yourself a cold drink. We got probably a hundred bottles of soda in those coolers. Should have more coming in a few weeks they told us."
"You have a working restroom?"
"Sure do. Go on in and get what you need. We even got smokes. Only one or two brands, but we got a few cartons in there."
He walked in and was surprised to see even the lights were on. A lone clerk waved to him from behind the counter. There was no one else in the store. He walked to the back of the store to the restroom. The door was broken and wouldn't close all the way. Six months ago, he would have gone somewhere else. Today, it didn't even phase him.
He sat on the toilet. When he was finished he flushed, and just kept sitting. Something felt normal about this, and he didn't want to leave. There were too many times he was forced to shit behind some bushes off the side of the road. This was so much better.
He heard a loud voice. Someone was yelling. He pulled his pants up quietly and moved his ear towards the open crack in the door.
Someone was robbing the place. He reached down to his side and patted the revolver just to make sure it was there. It was, of course, and it was, he knew, fully loaded with six rounds.
He peaked out the door. There was only one man. But he was a big man. Long hair, long messy beard, and a long shotgun pointed at the clerk. "Hurry the fuck up or you're dead where you stand."
Then the deafening sound and immediate ringing in the ears. Hollywood never gets this right he thought. A gun going off inside was incredibly loud. He decided he needed to move fast. There was no way he could just stay there until the clerk was murdered.
He knew the big man's ears were ringing, so he moved to the end of an aisle, raised his revolver and emptied three quick shots into the man's torso.
The giant turned and aimed his gun at him, so he fired two more quick shots, and the man fell forward.
The attendant who was outside rushed in. "You okay Mr. Davis?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. Drag that big son of a bitch out of here and put him in the median. You know the rest." The clerk answered.
He walked slowly towards the dead man. Or dying man, he wasn't sure yet. "You kill him?" The attendant asked. "Yes he did." The clerk answered before he could respond. "Saved my life. Young man, you can have whatever you need." He then looked at the attendant. "When you get the body moved, fill this man's truck up with gas for free."
"That isn't necessary. I appreciate it. But the one thing I do have is a bit of money."
He answered. He walked to the attendant and looked down. "Here, I'll help you drag him out."
He grabbed the big man by the arms and dragged him towards the door, then out into the parking lot. The attendant was skinny, and not very strong. They were both struggling. The man was over six feet six inches, maybe even more, and weighed at least two hundred and eighty pounds.
They both stood up to rest for a moment. He looked down at the man he had just killed and stared blankly. He then fired another bullet into the man's heart, just to make sure. "There you dumb mother fucker! Now you're dead aren't you? You've wasted your life, for what?"
The dead man did not respond.
The attendant did. "Hey buddy, you shouldn't worry about killing that man. We get his type in here every couple of days. He would have killed Mr. Davis, the clerk in there, and probably me if he had seen me. This wasn't your fault, it was mine. I should have had my gun with me and shot him the minute he got out of his car. Either way, someone was going to kill the guy eventually. People are on to this shit, and you shouldn't feel a bit bad."
He looked at the attendant and tried to smile. "It's not that I feel bad for killing him. It's that I feel bad, that I don't feel bad."
The attendant knitted his eyebrows and cocked his head. "I don't follow ya."
"Six months ago, I was living with my pregnant wife in Pennsylvania. I was back in college, and heading towards a great life. Now, she's dead, the baby died with her, and I've killed about eight men in the last three months. And I'm afraid I'm getting okay with it."
The clerk, Mr. Davis, came out with a dolly and a gallon can of gas. "Here Skip. Put that big fucker on the dolly. There's diesel in the can."
All three men loaded the dead man onto the dolly. "We put them out in the median, then cover them in kerosene or gas and set 'em on fire. That way they don't smell so bad."
Davis went back into the store so he helped the attendant wheel the body across the street and downwind a few yards. Skip the attendant covered the body in gas, and through a match on it. As they walked back to the store he stopped and grabbed him by the arm. "Hey, ya know, you should join up with that MK Ultra?"
"What? What the hell is MK Ultra? I've heard of that, but it was a long time ago."
"A long time ago? Really? I thought it was just in the last couple of weeks. It's Man Killer Ultra. I don't know how they came up with the name. But it's a bunch of guys who drive around and find the marauders. Then, they kill them. Hell it's even on the radio now. They're like heroes. You should find them and join up with them. They do some good work."
"Naw. I think I'll pass on that. I'm on my way to see a friend and settle down for a year or so. I gotta get off of these roads." He told Skip.
He went back inside the store and paid the clerk for two cartons of cigarettes, despite the man's objections, and the gas. And drove off. He turned on the radio but could only find a single AM station that was broadcasting. It was the same boring loop about how things were getting better and Washington D.C., though without power in the city, was still functioning. They mentioned several cities and states where the power was coming back on. But there was no time line. And there was no mention of Man Killers or MK Ultra.
He'd read just enough history to know that groups like that could cause serious problems. Radicals breed more radicals and the crazy increases exponentially. But he also noticed he hadn't seen a police car in a few weeks.
He drove at forty-five miles per hour trying to maximize his gas mileage. Towards one town he noticed three drones flying in formation. He saw an exit sign that said a National Guard base was nearby. That gave him a little comfort. There was some stub of government still operating way out here in the middle of nowhere, so maybe things were not as bad as thought.
But then he thought about the big man he had just killed. He was still fat, but the man's pants and shirt had both hung loose on him. Something that was now quite common. Yet he himself hadn't lost any weight that he could tell. Maybe it was just dumb luck. Or maybe it was all the money Darrel had given him. But he hadn't had any long bouts of hunger.
He drove for hours lost in a kaleidoscope of thoughts. It was impossible not to think about the things he didn't want to think about. What was it like in the rest of the world? Why was it so damned hard to keep the power on? Was it too many technicians had died? Was the solar flare worse than they were told? Were the hackers who had locked so many systems with computer viruses worse than they were told?
And then, in an instant the thoughts would switch. Would he ever have a BMW and a big house on a golf course in the suburbs? When he thought of that, he laughed out loud. 'Yeah Mike, nine holes after work sounds like a good time. I need to work on my putting and short game.'
And then on the golf course Mike would ask him how he managed the troubles. 'Oh you know Mike, I killed ten or twenty men.'
That was a conversation he couldn't see happening.
Occasionally, maybe ever ten miles or so, he would see a body, or a small pile of bodies on the side of the road. The abandoned cars were every half mile now. That was a change. If he saw a motorcycle, it was wrecked, or surely broken. Motorcycles, the smaller the better, got good gas mileage. So they were in demand.
He also noticed more and more big trucks. Eighteen wheelers on the side of the road. The back doors were always open and the trailers were usually completely empty.
An hour outside of Linda's house he pulled to the side of the road. It was dark and quiet.
He tried to concentrate. He searched his mind like he had never done before. Was there anything else he could do? The obvious answer was Mississippi. But there was just nothing he could piece together that made that sound like a good idea.
He thought about Linda, and little Sara. They were alone, in a quickly approaching apocalyptic hell-scape. Linda would be glad to see him. He was pretty sure of that. He had a full pickup truck load of food and supplies. Linda had grits and eggs and chickens.
He had to go to Linda's house. But it was too late. He drove to the old farmer's house down the street from her, pulled around to the back and slept. He didn't bother to get in the back seat. He just slept in the driver's seat with the gun in his lap.
Chapter 6
Sara
He woke to the sound of a cough. The 'Ahem' type of cough. It startled him and he reached for his gun but he knocked it to the floor. He looked out the window to see Linda standing next to the door. "That was fast." She said with a smile.
He smiled back. It had only been a couple of days, but he had missed her. "Yeah, turns out Jimmy's wife's whole damn family was staying with them in a trailer home. And her father didn't seem too happy to have more people there."
"So are you doing okay?" She asked
"I killed another man yesterday morning. But then on the drive here I realized it didn't bother me and I'm never bored anymore. I'm in a weird place. I don't like killing people, but I do like the adventure. I'm not quite sure what that means. But I'd like to talk to you about it."
"So are you sticking around for a while?" She asked.
"If it's okay with you, I'd sure like too. I've got a whole bunch of food and toilet paper and stuff in the back of the truck."
"You don't need to bring anything but yourself. But toilet paper sounds like manna from heaven to me. And a little variety in food will be nice. We'll talk about the other stuff later. Give me a ride back home."
"Where is Sara?"
"She's sleeping. It's been quiet so I thought I'd run down here for a few things." She threw a chain saw into the back seat and climbed in.
When they got back to the house Sara was sitting in the living room eating an apple. "Where'd you get apples?" He asked.
"The National Guard truck came through again the afternoon you left. He left us one box of apples and I took two cartons of cigarettes. That's all they had. There were other boxes of food, but when they saw we were healthy, they wouldn't give us anything else. It was strange."
"What do you mean strange?"
"It was just two trucks this time. And you could tell that two of them weren't really National Guard. The other four were obviously military. But I'm sure that two of them, a pretty young guy and a much older guy, were not. I tried to ask them about it, but they just said they were new recruits. Those two were thin as skeletons. And honestly, the other four weren't all that fit looking. I think things are getting worse out there."
"Sara looks good. I can't believe how much better she looks in only two days." He said.
"Yeah. She's talking a bit as well." She turned to Sara to show him that she was talking.
"Good Morning Sara. How did you sleep?"
Sara walked to Linda and gave her a little hug, then looked at him and smiled broadly. "You're back!"
"Yes I am Sara."
"Are you going to stay with me and Aunt Linda now?" She asked.
"Yes. I'm here for a while."
Sara was moved into Linda's bedroom so he could have a room to himself. They unloaded the truck, and then started working on the chainsaw and cutting wood. The cool September mornings were already demanding of a fire in the wood burning stove, and Linda was quickly running out of wood.
"We used to just buy firewood, so of course I don't have any left. We've got a little patch of black Locust trees in the back that we can burn without seasoning. When that's gone I guess we'll just have to burn the green wood."
They cut trees for a week. It was slow going because it had to be split with an axe. But they made good progress. By the end of the week they had three cords. It might be enough to get them through December, but Linda was sure they would need more. In that part of South Dakota, trees were relatively scarce, so they had to leave her property and hunt for dead trees that hadn't fallen.
They were so tired that they didn't talk much at night. They worked, slept and ate. By the time they were caught up on firewood, they realized that the full pickup truck full of food wasn't going to last through the winter. So the first two weeks of October were spent with the hand mill grinding dent corn into grits and corn flour. And then using the wood ash to make hominy grits.
The chickens stopped laying up north much earlier than he remembered in Mississippi, so they had to make even more grits and flour. Once a week, they would kill a chicken. If they were careful about how much they used, the single chicken could make a big part of a meal for two or three days. Then, once a week for the next few weeks they would kill a rooster and make a stew from him. But they made sure to keep at least three roosters in case something happened to one or two of them.
By mid-October, they were in better condition and started to have some time in the evenings. Most nights, Linda would read to Sara by candle light. The flashlights had long since run out of batteries. When the candles began to run low, Sara went to bed, and he and Linda talked. On one particularly cold night, she broached the subject he'd mentioned when he came back from Idaho.
"So, you said you liked the adventure. You know, that's not unusual. People like challenges in their lives."
He gave her a sheepish grin and said. "Yeah, I was kind of hoping you'd forgotten that.
"Why?" She asked.
"Because I don't want to think of myself as just a killer. That's not what I meant and I hope you didn't take it that way."
"I didn't take it that way at all. I know what you meant. Danger, probably more for men than women, is exhilarating. And I hope you know that the feminist in me hates to have to admit that. But watching these marauders I've noticed the same look and posture that I saw in some of my male students when they got into a little trouble in school."
"I've seen that look as well." He said. "But I've also seen men, marauders, who were not okay with what they were doing. You could see it in their eyes. They were desperate. So far, I haven't been desperate. I've killed men, and only one really concerns me, but I don't feel bad about it. So, if I were desperate, what would I do?"
"I think you'd do what you had to in order to survive. But I also think you'd do what you had to to protect Sara and me. And you'd try to do it with as much integrity as was possible in that moment. You're not going to turn into a man killer."
He smiled at her. "And you would do what was necessary to save Sara and me, Linda. As you already have." He pointed to the scar on his chest.
"And, I hope you're right. Over the last few weeks I've been pretty satisfied, or maybe content in my actions is the correct way to say it. That leads me to believe it's not just the adventure and danger. It's keeping busy. I think I'll go sit in the truck and smoke a cig."
"Try to find a radio station broadcasting. We haven't listened in a few weeks." She said.
He hustled to the truck. It was not just cold, it was windy and spitting freezing rain and snow. He had to feel around for the door handle as it was completely dark. He got in and started his truck. He cracked the window to let the smoke escape, lit his cigarette and turned on the radio.
The first station he found was broadcasting a speech by the President of the United States. He just caught the very end of it. It was about working together, and following the law. He half listened and just enjoyed a brief bit of alone time, which was strange, and smoked his cigarette.
When the speech was over the radio announcer came on.
THAT WAS PRESIDENT HALE'S SPEECH FROM YESTERDAY. WE WILL BE REPEATING THIS SPEECH ON A LOOP FOR THE NEXT FORTY EIGHT HOURS. PLEASE HEED THE PRESIDENTS REQUESTS AND FOLLOW THE NEW LAWS.
He leaned forward in his seat, lit another cigarette and turned the volume up.
'MY FELLOW AMERICANS, AS YOU AWARE BY NOW THINGS HAVE GOTTEN MUCH WORSE OVER THE LAST THREE MONTHS. THE FEDERAL GOVERNMENT IN WASHINGTON D.C. IS OPERATIONAL, BUT HAS LIMITED CAPABILITIES. MOST STATE GOVERNMENTS ARE FUNCTIONING BUT MOST LOCAL GOVERNMENTS ARE NOT.
THE FIRST THING WE MUST TALK ABOUT IS THAT THERE ARE SOME NEW LAWS THAT ARE NECESSARY AT A NATIONAL LEVEL AND WILL BE ENFORCED AT THE STATE LEVEL, AND LOCAL LEVEL IF POSSIBLE. PRIVATE CITIZENS MAY ENFORCE THESE LAWS IF THE CITIZENS ARE ACCOMPANIED BY TWO WITNESSES.
ALL TRUCKS ARE NOW PROTECTED IN THEIR ROUTES BY FEDERAL LAW. ANYONE TRYING TO HINDER A DELIVERY TRUCK, OR ANYONE TRYING TO STEAL FROM A DELIVERY TRUCK IS NOW SUBJECT TO THE DEATH PENALTY WITHOUT TRIAL. HABEAS CORPUS IS SUSPENDED UNTIL THIS TROUBLE HAS PASSED.
THE GROUP KNOWN AS MKULTRA, WHO ARE KILLING THE MARAUDERS, ARE ALSO HEREBY DEPUTIZED. THE SAME LAWS WILL APPLY AS THOSE STOPPING PEOPLE HINDERING DELIVERIES. A DEATH PENALTY AGAINST MARAUDERS CAN BE CARRIED OUT AS LONG AS THERE ARE TWO WITNESSES.
ALL ABLE BODIED MALES BETWEEN THE AGES OF 16 AND 45, WHO ARE NOT PRIMARILY RESPONSIBLE FOR THE PROTECTION, OR FOOD PRODUCTION OF THE FAMILY, ARE REQUIRED TO REPORT TO A LOCAL MILITARY BASE. YOUR COUNTRY NEEDS YOU TO HELP DELIVER FOOD, MEDICAL SUPPLIES AND OTHER NECESSITIES. YOUR ENLISTMENT WILL BE TEMPORARY, AND YOU WILL NOT BE ASKED TO CARRY A GUN OR FIGHT.
