When he woke the next morning, the very first thing he did was smile. The drone of cars was continuing and it was already quite bright outside. He walked to the kitchen to see Sara already at the table enjoying her eggs, grits, and powdered lemonade.

  "Aunt Linda went to feed the chinkens." She said. She had called them 'chinkens' from day one, and Linda thought it cute so she hadn't bothered to correct her.

  She was swinging her legs off the end of the chair and shoveling the grits in her mouth. "Will you sit down and eat with me?" She asked.

  "Sure he answered." He poured himself a cup coffee and when Linda opened the door he sat down and took a drink.

  "Sorry about the coffee. We're running a little low so I re-used the grounds from last night."

  "What do we need to do today?" He asked.

  "Not a thing. We've got enough grits to last us a few weeks. We've got enough corn flour to make more cornbread. We even got three eggs last night. Not good for twenty chickens, but at least their still laying. No, today we can relax. It's even warming up." She smiled.

  He ate and then went to the front porch to sit and smoke a cigarette. It was still cold, but he could tell it was going to be a nice day. He lit the cigarette and watched the cars go by.

  Sometimes, not often but once every couple of hours, a little stream of twenty or thirty cars would drive by back all huddled together. They brought Sara into the front yard to play and watch the cars.

  He brought a chair around from the back yard and sat and watched Sara and Linda, and smoked cigarettes. He was down to less than three cartons. After today, he would have to cut back from ten a day to five. His plan was to be off of nicotine just as we was running out.

  All of the traffic was coming from the north, so the far lane. Sometime after lunch a minivan pulled into the north bound lane and rolled down the window. Linda instinctively pulled Sara back towards the house.

  He was at first tentative, but the driver spoke quickly. "High folks! Are you going to tough it out for the winter? Because if not, we'd love to have some travelling company in another car. We've got plenty of food and supplies to get us to Texas and get set up down there."

  He walked closer to the car with a big smile on his face. That most wonderful of evolutionary traits to signify that 'I mean you no harm'.

  "Yes, I think we'll make it through okay. Where are you coming from?"

  "Oh, most of us are from the shale oil fields up in North Dakota. They're shutting them down so about ten or twenty thousand people are out of work. Of course, most of us haven't been working for a few months anyway. They're just now starting to trickle out. I imagine you'll see quite a few of us over the next few weeks."

  He nodded at the man in the minivan, waved to his wife and said, "Well, good luck. I was on the road a few months back, and most of the rest areas are pretty safe. Stay with traffic as long as you can and I'm sure you'll be fine."

  The man thanked him and drove off with a honk of the horn. For the next few days, the traffic was continuous. They would wave, and occasionally someone would stop and either offer some food, coffee or other thing they had in abundance, or ask for the same if they needed it.

  When they were offered something they needed, he paid them with his dwindling supply of cash or a few of the silver dimes. One man had a van that was half loaded with cartons of cigarettes. He gave the man was given two of the gold quarters for four cartons of smokes. Another man was given a gold quarter for two cans of coffee.

  But then he stopped giving anything. He knew at some point in the future he would need that money or the gold for something. And the truth was, they were well enough provisioned to make it through the winter.

  He and Linda both noticed that after a few days, the cars started moving faster. When people stopped, they were always asking for something. It got so bad that they put a sign out front that said, 'NO FOOD or GAS'. Underneath it, Linda insisted on writing 'SORRY'.

  Late one evening, when they were all in bed, he was woken to the sounds of shouting and a gun shot. He scrambled out of bed and grabbed the rifle. He crept around the side of the house as he always did. There were four or five cars stopped. Two men were at the front of the line arguing. Both had guns aimed at each other, but it was obvious no one had been hit by the bullet.

  They were staring each other down. One of the men said, "Look Mister, I'm just trying to get my family down south, same as you. I was just trying to stop you to see if you had any extra gas."

  The other man said, "I already told you, we don't have any."

  Then the first man took a step forward. "I can see down into the bed of your truck that you got three cans back there. I ain't asking for all of them, just one to get me to the next place I can find gas."

  He watched the men argue for a few more minutes, then stepped out of the dark and into the light of the cars. "Gentlemen? I'm sorry to interrupt, but when you get back on the big highways you'll find that there is gas. Some folks just sell it on the side of the road. If you have money or something to trade, gas is the easiest thing to get."

  He knew this might not necessarily be true. He just hoped they would believe it enough to move a few hours down the road. Luckily, both seemed satisfied. The man with the gas in the pickup truck sold the other man a five gallon tank, and the traffic moved on.

  Two days later, when he heard gunfire again, he was a bit more relaxed when he grabbed his gun and walked outside. But this time there were twenty or thirty cars stopped, and it was about a mile north of the house. As he walked towards the trouble the gunfire increased.

  A single car went flying by with its headlights off. He turned to watch it go, and then the lights came on. He could see a scattering of headlights ahead, all pointing in different directions. He could also hear the distinct sound of motorcycle engines.

  He crouched down as he moved so as not to get caught in the lights. When he was close enough to see people he could hear them yelling. He laid down on the cold ground and crawled. At the front of the cars a single truck was turned sideways blocking both lanes. Motorcycles circled from a distance and were still occasionally firing into or over the stopped cars.

  "Stop shooting at us, and we'll stop shooting at you. You have kids and women in those cars. All we want is food, a little bit of money and some of your gas, and then we'll let you go."

  "If you take our gas, you'll leave us here to die." Someone yelled back.

  He crawled closer being careful to keep the AR-15 pointed at the men on the motorcycles. He reached down to pat his pockets and realized he had left the extra magazines on the floor in his bedroom.

  Another car tried to speed around the truck blocking the lanes. It was instantly pelted with dozens of rounds and it stopped. "Anyone else tries that, you get what they got."

  A man staggered out of the bullet ridden car with a pistol in his hand. He was gunned down instantly by the marauders.

  The leader of the marauding motorcycles started talking again. "This is not going to end well for you. You are surrounded by a hundred of us. We're going to start with the first car. When we've taken a fair amount, we'll let you go. That way you all know you can trust us not to kill you or leave you stranded. If you agree with this, flash your lights!"

  As far as he could tell from his position, nearly every car flashed their lights on and off, or flashed their bright lights.

  "MKULTRA, fire!" The scream was almost primal. The men on motorcycles started falling everywhere. Some of the men in the cars were either confused, panicked, or trying to help and began firing. It went on for several minutes. Constant and deafening gunfire.

  He fired his AR-15 three times, then stopped. He could not tell who he was shooting at amidst the smoke and chaos.

  When it was over, the same voice that had yelled MKUltra yelled again. "It's all clear folks. If you have extra fuel or food you can spare, we'd love the donation. If not, just drive on."

  And slowly the cars started to drive away. He crawled all the way home. It took more than an hour. In the morning there was a knock at the door. He grabbed his holster and an AR-15 and opened the door. It was the Man Killer he had met earlier. "Told you we would be back." He said with a smile.

  "I just wanted you to know, don't go north on this road. It's a mess up there. We cleared out the lanes for traffic to get through, but there are probably forty or fifty bodies, a bunch of shot up motorcycles and two shot up cars on the side of the road. It's not a pretty sight."

  He thanked the man, and asked him to wait a minute, he might have something for him. The man tried to politely refuse, but he insisted that he stay.

  He went to talk to Linda about an idea. Linda agreed, it was the best chance to secure their location.

  He grabbed his coat, and walked out the front door. "I heard you asking for fuel last night. I'm going to take you to an underground gas tank that has two-thousand gallons in it. Well, maybe eighteen hundred, we've used a bit of it."

  He took the man to Fred's farm, showed him where they hid the key, and how to pump the gas out with the manual pump. The man promised to patrol the area every few days in exchange for the gas. But it was the worst decision he and Linda could have ever made.

  One of the MKUltra deputies had seized the opportunity of the location of the gas to make a bunch of money, and had divulged it to a gang of the marauders.

  The fight that ensued just a week later, was a literal battle field. He and Linda were able to keep the marauders away from the house. But they spent hundreds of rounds of the AR-15 ammunition to do it. Sara cried almost constantly.

  The battle raged for three days. There were lulls of a few hours. Sometimes during the day, two days it continued through the night.

  When it was finally over, they had no idea who had won, or if there had even been a victory. All three of them slept in Linda's king sized bed all day the fourth day. They woke up and it was dark.

  "Get Sara packed." He said. "We're leaving right now."

  "Where are we going?" She asked.

  "Home God Dammit. We're going home."

  Chapter 7

  The Road Home

  He pulled the last of the marauder's dead bodies from the road in front where they would need to drive. He double checked the back of the truck. The gas cans were secured and there were a few jars and cans of food that wouldn't fit in the backseat. He checked again to make sure Sara would be comfortable either sitting or lying down.

  "Let's go." He said.

  Linda got in the passenger seat and fastened her safety belt. He was in the driver's seat. He pulled the car out and sped away. He noticed Linda looking in the side view mirror. A tear ran down the side of her face.

  "You might be able to go back some day. But we have to get out of here. I can't leave you and Sara, and I don't think we are safe here with just you and me to protect the place."

  She looked at him. "I know. And I'm happy to go with you. It just hurts a bit to leave. To be completely honest, when I first moved out here, I didn't think I'd last a full year. I'm okay. It's okay. But, I've known you for several months now, and it's time you answered a question."

  His brow furrowed. He couldn't think of a single thing he had kept from her, that would be of interest. "Sure. What do you want to ask?"

  "What is your name?"

  He laughed. It was a good feeling after the stress of the previous few days. "I never told you my name?" He asked.

  "No. And I thought there might be a reason for it."

  "Huh." He said. And drove on. She stared at him in disbelief until he couldn't hold it any longer. He burst out laughing. "I'm sorry, I couldn't resist. It's Jeff. Jeff Chandler."

  "Well, how do you do? Mr. Jeff Chandler." She said.

  "I think I do fine now." He answered.

  Sara unfastened her seat belt and poked her head between the two of them. "Aunt Linda, you didn't know his name was Jeff?" She asked.

  "No, Sara, I guess I didn't. Now get your seatbelt back on.

  Sara shrugged that way that only little kids can shrug. As if all adults are complete morons. She sat back and fastened her seat belt.

  As they pulled away the brief moment of ease was washed away. They were both shocked at the number of bodies lying on the side of the road. But just a mile or two away, there were no more bodies. Neither commented on how surrounded they had been by death.

  They made good time and passed through the town of Belle Fourche, then hit I90 through Spear Fish South Dakota. After an hour, they started to relax a little. He lit a cigarette and rolled down the window. "I have to pee." Sara said.

  "We really need a plan for this." Linda said.

  "What do you mean?"

  "She's six years old. She's going to have to pee every few hours. And we may not be able to stop that often."

  "All right. Let's stop once we get a few miles away from Spear Fish."

  They drove twenty miles past the town and stopped. Linda found a bush to give Sara a little privacy. But it wasn't clear to either of them whether or not that was necessary yet. Driving down I-90 was a trip through desperation. In a town called Whitewood, just a few miles north of Sturgis, people stood by the side of the road with signs begging for food. They could only see them because of the headlights of the truck. Through Sturgis, it was oddly quiet.

  The next big town was Rapid City. They exited I-90 and went around it to the North hugging closer to Ellsworth Air Force base. Around the base, traffic had slowed to a crawl. They were able to stay in the left lane and make a little better time, but it was clear thousands were trying to get into the base to get food, shelter, or something else. Perhaps just security.

  An hour past the base the beggars returned in greater numbers on the side of the road. It was early morning, and many were just sleeping in little makeshift tents on the side of the road. He saw a few females with signs that said they would do anything for a ride.

  The beggars thinned out an hour later but he still had to drive alertly. There were stopped cars and trucks, and even burnt out eighteen wheelers on the sides of the road. Occasionally there were stopped in a lane, either unable to make it to the shoulder, or unwilling to try.

  Linda finally fell asleep after about four hours. He was hesitant to wake her just two hours later, but Sara had to relieve herself. Escorting her was a job he was uncomfortable with.

  Linda took the driver's seat. She drove, and he slept for four hours. She took the long way and drove around Sioux Falls but decided to stay on I-29 through Sioux City Iowa hoping the nearby Air Force base would offer some safety. There were many more stragglers and beggars on the sides of the road, but there were also more cars. Some of the cars were going seventy miles an hour or more. This forced those on the side to stand well back of the road.

  As they came closer to Kansas City, things became progressively worse. The traffic around them also fell to almost nothing.

  They had seen only five or six other car moving along the highways over the last hour. They saw hundreds of stopped cars, and perhaps thousands of bodies. In some areas, they were stacked in the medians. It was becoming clear that the military trucks that had been picking the bodies up had become overwhelmed.

  They switched seats again so Linda could rest. He slowed down his driving to avoid hitting anything in the road, or anyone standing on the side of the road.

  They were in Kansas heading east and nearing Missouri and the number of bodies and cars was growing. As they went through areas where suburban neighborhoods were off to either side, they saw fires. Lots of fires. In small windows where there were no flames, there was smoke.

  Then a few miles down the road, another neighborhood would be quiet and appear almost normal. Just north of St. Joseph they headed back to the west to go around Kansas City. They were off of the highway for no more than a few minutes when they noticed a few cars stopped ahead of them.

  He slowed down keeping a good distance between him and the stopped cars. Then the cars ahead of him started slowly backing up, so he put the truck in reverse and backed up as well. After a few hundred yards, they stopped, so he stopped.

  A woman in the car in front of him stepped out and walked back towards him. She was joined by a man from another car.

  He told Linda to stay in the car, and he got out. "What's going on?" He asked.

  "We don't know. There are people on either side of the road up ahead shooting at each other." The woman answered.

  The man that had joined her took off a baseball cap and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. "Best I can figure is either the people on the left side of the road are trying to keep the people from that town from getting out. Or the people from that town are trying to stop them from getting in."

  "Shit." He said and turned back to Linda to motion her to join him.

  He told Linda what was happening. They made small talk, mostly about how much time it would take to get around this town, and this little battle. The best anyone could come up with was that it would take an hour or two to bypass the problem and get back on I-29 heading south.

  The time wasn't the issue, it was the gas they would use. He and Linda had calculated the trip home would be just over one thousand miles. They had left with forty-five gallons total. Twenty in the tank and twenty-five in the five gallon cans. They would need to stop for gas somewhere, and the closer to Mississippi the better.

  They were distracted by a distant rumbling from behind them. They all stood silently as an eighteen wheeler became visible in the distance. From the other direction, the sporadic gunfire stopped completely.

  He looked at Linda. "Maybe you should take Sara and get back in the truck." No sooner had he finished the sentence and a voice cried out from the standoff. "Truck!" And instantly the fields along both sides of the road emptied of people. There were hundreds of them. They ran past the stopped cars paying them no attention at all. They were after the eighteen wheeler, and whatever cargo it carried.

 

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