Fiction - Please - A Vignette

[Jerry D Young]

Please! – A Vignette

Rob Venton woke up with a start. “What the…” he asked aloud, trying to figure out what had wakened him. Then he heard the sirens. Not the fire sirens, but the attack alert sirens. The only reason he knew what he was hearing was because there’d been a special on one of the local stations about the newly installed sirens. He sniffed. There was smoke. Rob was confused.

He sat up in bed, intending to take a look out the window of his fifth story apartment. But the window came to him. In pieces. Fortunately, the curtains contained much of flying glass, but the smoldering fabric was now burning. Rob sat there for a second, stunned. Then the reverse blast wave pulled what was left of the burning curtains outside. They continued to burn as they fell.

Tense as a high voltage power line, Rob sat there, waiting for the next event. When nothing happened over the span of two minutes, and the ugly purple glow of two nuclear mushroom clouds became visible through the window, Rob decided he should get dressed.

When he put his feet down, they encountered the broken glass and yelped. Pulling up one foot and then the other, he pulled several pieces of the glass from his feet, using only the light coming in the window.

With the bed covered with glass it took him a minute to figure out what to do. He’d thrown the coverlet back when he sat up. So he flipped it back into place, leaving clear spots on top of it where it had protected the rest of the bed from the glass.

Rob scrambled across the bed and looked down for more glass. But he couldn’t see. The bed stand lamp was within his reach and he flipped the switch. Nothing. “Yeah. I guess they said there wouldn’t be any power, if it happened,” Rob said, again, speaking to the air.

There was nothing to do but try to get to the closet without cutting up his feet any more than he already had. Gingerly, he put his feet down on the carpet. He sighed in relief when there was no pain. Taking tiny, testing steps, hands out in front of him, Rob made it to the closet and out of the spray of glass, picking up only a couple more slivers in the process.

Sitting on a tote in the closet, he used his fingers to get the glass from his feet again. It was more difficult the second time. His feet and hands were both bloody from cuts. Working by the dim light provided by the mushroom cloud, faint as it was, Rob was able to get dressed in his normal attire, right down to the tie he could tie in the dark or with his eyes closed.

It didn’t occur to him until he was at the door of the bedroom that he probably should have dressed differently. He was panicking and knew it. But before he could turn around to go back to the closet and change, the room brightened so much that Rob had to close his eyes. He felt heat on his back, and, seconds later fell to the floor when the building shook.

He curled up into a ball and waited out the surface blast wave and reverse wave, realizing that probably what had wakened him was the first ground blast wave and light pulse. And the thermal radiation had charred the curtains enough for them to burst into flames when the second nuke went off. This was a third blast.

Rob couldn’t seem to move for a long time, but the smell of smoke brought him out of his daze. He was terrified of fire. And the bedroom wall opposite was now burning. It had already spread out from the wall.

With a silent scream, Rob jumped to his feet and ran toward the apartment door, slamming the bedroom door behind him. In the darkness, he tripped over furniture three times, leaving bloody handprints behind on the carpet. He tried three times to pull the door open. It wouldn’t budge. With the fire breaking through the bedroom wall, Rob panicked even more. He slammed his body against the door a couple of times in vain. Finally he backed up and ran full tilt into the door, leading with his left shoulder.

He heard something in his arm give, but the door sprang open enough for him to squeeze through. There still wasn’t a huge amount of smoke, but the fires were breaking through into the hallway on the side of the building facing the mushroom clouds. Rob ran for the elevator and hammered on the down button with his fist until he saw someone run past, a huge back pack on his back, and go through the stairway door.

That door, too, was difficult to open, but the man pulled a foot long tool from his pack and pried on the door until it was open enough to get through. Coughing now, Rob ran to join the man, knocking him to one side on the stairway as he hopped, skipped, and jumped down the stairs in a furious attempt to get out of the building before the fire breached the stairwell.

Rob had a serious crick in his side and gasped for breath when he ran out of the building. There were half a dozen people standing around, staring at the mushroom clouds, mostly crying and wailing about what to do.

Feeling like doing the same thing, Rob spotted the man with the back pack come out of the building, helping an elderly lady and her dog down the front steps of the apartment building. The man left her with the others and headed down the sidewalk at a slow trot.

Rob had no clue what to do, and the man seemed to, so he followed, holding his side as it continued to cramp up. There were more and more people out on the street now. Rob noted, with a burst of fear, that some of them had guns. The man he was following avoided the confrontations going on and stayed out of reach of any of those trying to take the belongings from people that had thought to bring something with them.

And then there were the looters. Already the major targets of looters were being broken into. Liquor stores, jewelry shops, pawn shops. The man didn’t slow down. Rob was having a hard time staying close to him and avoiding the looters and shooters. But the man turned into the driveway of a self store storage outfit.

Rob stopped back a ways and caught his breath as he watched the man. There were no lights anywhere, except the light from the mushroom clouds. But suddenly light flared at the gate. The man seemed to be checking things out. It didn’t take him long. He moved over to where the fence met a masonry column and did a Jackie Chan wall walk, using momentum and inertia to run up high enough to be able to grasp the top bar of the metal fence. He swung over and dropped to the concrete. And then he disappeared into the darkness around the storage units.

Rob knew he’d never get over the fence, if that was the man’s final destination. But he decided to wait and see what developed. He didn’t have to wait long. A faint rumble sounded, and a pickup truck, running without lights, pulled around the corner of one of the units.

The man parked it along the fence, got out, and pulled the winch cable free from the front of the bumper. A second later and the man had it attached to the gate. Using the winch control, he snugged up the cable and then got back into the truck. The slight chirp of the tires on the four wheel drive vehicle were loud in the darkness, but paled in volume to the sounds of the gate being pulled off its track and out of the way.

A man yelled from the second story apartment over the rental office. The man ignored it, unhooking the cable from the gate, and reeling it in. With that done, the man got in the truck and headed for the opening in the fence where the gate had stood.

There was a shot from the man in the window. At least, that’s what Rob thought it was. The man in the truck gunned it, swerved when he saw Rob, and straightened the truck out as he accelerated past Rob.

Rob was desperate. He had no clue what he should be doing in a nuclear war. The guy in the truck obviously did. He screamed in pain as his damaged shoulder and arm took some of the stress of grabbing the upright of the pipe rack mounted on the truck. Had the sheer momentum of the truck not pulled and swung Rob over the side of the truck bed before his fingers lost hold, he would have wound up landing on the asphalt of the drive way. As it was, he curled up in pain on the totes in the pickup bed, holding on with his right hand the best he could.

Rob managed to look up a few seconds later when the truck turned a corner and the rifle fire that was background to the pain stopped. And the truck slowed down. Rob saw the huge hole in the working end of a pistol pointed at him through the rear glass of the truck. The man, obviously shouting, though Rob couldn’t hear him, mouthed the words, “Get out!”

Rob simply shook his head and got a better grip on the pipe rack. Even though Rob wasn’t hearing very well, the man in the truck could hear Rob when Rob replied. “No. I don’t know what to do! I just want to get out of the city! Please! Please!”

Finally the man’s voice managed to penetrate the pain. “You got a gun?”

Rob shook his head.

“Okay. You can ride. No skin off my nose. But if you try anything, you’re a dead man.”

Rob nodded and whispered “I’m probably dead, anyway. Nuclear war. Who would have thought it could really happen?” He started to move, to get into the cab of the truck, but the man took off. And Rob was glad. The man from the storage center came around the corner behind them and began shooting again.

The man driving the truck weaved and Rob hung on for dear life, his eyes closed in fear and in pain. It was a rough ride, lying stretched out on the layer of totes, as the man continued to juke and swerve from time to time. Rob had no idea why he was doing it, but he sure wished he would stop. But the man continued to swerve around people and vehicles and other obstructions in the road caused by the electromagnetic pulse and blast waves of the three nuclear explosions.

It seemed like forever to Rob, but the truck finally slowed, and then came to a stop. It was still dark, but there was a lightness to the sky that allowed Rob to get a good look around. Suddenly the driver of the truck was outside, the pistol again in his hand.

“Okay,” the man said, “This is the time when you either get out of my truck or I shoot you.”

“Please, man! I don’t know what to do!”

“Out!”

Rob slowly climbed out of the bed of the truck, favoring his left arm. He thought the man was going to get in the truck and leave, but instead, he reached into the truck, pulled out a bottle of water and handed it to Rob.

“Why in the world were you dressed in a suit and tie and loafers at three in the morning, when this started?”

“I uh… Was asleep. When I dressed… I don’t know. I just wasn’t thinking, I guess.”

“I’ll say. Your own your own, buddy. If I was you, I’d check out that strip mall over there.” He pointed to the row of shops along the highway and then turned and pointed up the hill on the other side of the road. “And up there are a lot of houses with basements. I figure you have about an hour before the fallout arrives here. Good luck. You are certainly going to need it.” With that, the man did get back in the truck and drive away, without a look back.

Rob stared at the bottle of water for long seconds and then looked over at the mall. He began walking toward it as dawn broke, showing a dark haze to the west. Trying door after door, Rob went down the row of shops. When a man yelled at him through the front door and brandished a shotgun, Rob gave up on the mall. Instead, he headed toward the development on the hill. “Surely someone will help me.”

After seventeen refusals to be allowed in, several at the point of a gun, Limping badly, Rob walked up and wearily knocked on another door, wondering if he should just lie down and die. But the door opened and a man asked, “Can I help you?”

“Please! I’ve got nowhere to go. I need help. The bombs…”

“Come in, my brother. Join us in prayers.”

Rob stepped inside, and saw a group of five people on their knees in the center of the spacious living room. “We need to get to the basement, don’t we?” Rob asked. “The fallout is coming.”

“Fear not, brother. We have seen this coming for many years and have made our peace with it. Just pray with us and your soul will be forever saved.”

“But I want to live!” Rob cried.

“All mankind is doomed. You will live life eternal if you pray and wait for the end with us.”

Rob suddenly saw the table with the literature. He’d stumbled onto a doomsday cult. Perhaps they had the right idea. He joined the group. Rob tried. He really did. But the lure of life won out. “Look. I’m not into this. Would it be all right if I went down into your basement? I promise I’ll pray there.”

“As you wish, brother. But I fear you will not make it to the Promised Land if you pray to save your life.”

“I’ll take that chance,” Rob said, lunging to his feet. The man pointed the way to the stairs down to the basement and Rob headed for them. He paused a moment to look out a window. He could see a light dust falling. Fear gripped his heart and he ran for the stairs, and down them.

Wildly, he looked around. This part of the basement was finished as a family and game room. He checked the door at one side and found the unfinished portion of the basement. It just seemed like it would be better with bare concrete. A minute of looking around and Rob found a small alcove behind what he assumed was the support for the fireplace. Rob stepped in, crouched down, and began to pray. For forgiveness and for his life.

Rob wasn’t sure when he fell into an exhausted sleep, but thirst, hunger, a need to use the bathroom and his aching left arm and shoulder woke him up. He looked at his watch. It was almost noon. He remembered the bottle of water and drank it all. Rob started to toss the bottle away, but decided it might come in handy.

Like a meerkat exiting its burrow, Rob looked all around and listened carefully for any noise as he came out of the alcove. He went into the finished portion of the basement and looked out one of the windows. The powder was still coming down. He drew back in alarm.

But the need to empty bowels and bladder was overwhelming. He checked another door and found the bathroom that serviced the basement. Though he didn’t have a clue about it, Rob was very lucky that the floor of the basement was above the main sewer line and he was able to flush the toilet without problem. He did note that the tank didn’t fill back up.

That done, hunger drove him upstairs. He recoiled at the sight of the group in the living room. All lay quietly on their sides, still in a circle on the floor. Rob looked at the empty cup near each one. “Holy Cow! They killed themselves!”

Aware of the fallout, Rob quickly raided the kitchen for something to eat, taking several items from the cabinets back down to the basement with him. He ate slowly, thinking he should ration the food tightly. Rob had no idea how long he would need to stay in the basement.

Two weeks kept cropping up in his mind as the days passed. Rob made several more trips to the kitchen for food. There was no more to be had in the house the ninth day. After considering going exploring for more, Rob decided against it. There was still a full case of bottled water remaining. He might get hungry, but he would have water.

He couldn’t make the two weeks. Three days after the food ran out he went outside, to search for more. Rob could see the fallout dust on the ground. He already had a bandana he’d found in one of the bedrooms tied around his mouth and nose because of the smell of the decaying bodies in the living room.

Fortunately for Rob, the next house over was vacant. At least no one came to the door when he knocked. He tried the door. It opened. Sticking just his head inside, he called out. When no one answered, Rob tiptoed inside and looked around. Everything looked normal. Making a beeline to the kitchen, Rob searched the cabinets for eatable food. He checked the refrigerator, too. He closed the door quickly. It was a mess inside.

After downing a can of Spagetti-Os, Rob checked the rest of the house. The upstairs showed a different scene than the downstairs. Closet doors were open, as were dresser drawers. Rob decided the family had packed up and left in a hurry. He wondered later if that family was one of those found dead on the side of the road, having died while trying to escape the area on foot.

Still cautious, Rob checked the basement. There was an identical alcove in this house as in the other. Rob decided he’d stay here, instead of in the house with the dead. He did go back to that house to fetch the rest of the case of water. He was surprised how tired he was after that task.

It was two days later when he noticed blood on a piece of stale bread he’d bitten into. “Hum…” Rob ran his hands through his hair in thought. And came away with tufts of it in his hands.

“Oh, no!” he cried. “I have it! Radiation poisoning!” Rob curled up and cried himself to sleep. He never was sure how or why he hung on. But, mostly in a daze, he ate, slept, and, suddenly went to the bathroom in a rush when the diarrhea hit him a couple of days later.

This time when the food and water ran out, dejected and feeling near death, Rob curled up again and decided he wouldn’t wake up. But that solution does not always work. For two days he woke and dozed, beyond hunger and thirst. Suddenly, feeling terribly frightened, Rob came awake fully for the first time since he’d reconciled himself to death.

Then he heard what had wakened him. There was someone in the house. His first shout for help was faint. Rob started to try again, but stopped when he heard voices coming down the stairs. “Man, this place has been prime pickings. Except for this one and the one we just left. Can you believe it? They killed themselves! Sure left behind some nice jewelry, though.” Whoever was talking laughed loudly.

The man was quickly told to shut up and be quiet. “No telling who we might run into. Keep it down and keep your gun ready. Shoot anyone we find, just like before.”

Quivering in fear, Rob wondered how much worse his situation could get. He expected the impact of a bullet any moment as he crouched there in the alcove, his eyes closed. But after a while the voices faded away as the men went upstairs. When Rob heard the front door of the house slam, he breathed a sigh of relief.

The relief was in part because he’d not been discovered, in part due to what the apparent leader of the group said as he was going up the stairs. “This area is just too hot. We’re going to pack up and go on to the next complex. Yeah. Yeah. Don’t say it. I know there are a bunch more houses, but I’m not going to die from radiation poisoning. We’re taking off.”

Of course, the implication that it still wasn’t safe in this area tempered the relief with a sudden resolve to leave the area as quickly as possible, too. Rob eased up the stairs and took a cautious look out one of the living room windows. The group was piling into a monster truck of some kind. It was covered with decals. Rob didn’t recognize the make. Just that it was on huge tires.

He waited until the machine pulled away, the engine roaring in the otherwise silent development. While his resolve was still high, Rob went outside and turned up the street to the area neither he nor the gang had been through.

Rob had to shake his head at how quickly he tired. He had to stop and rest every few minutes. He did find a bit more food and a whole case of bottled water at one house. A little food here and there. Two changes of more appropriate clothing that would fit him, with a pair of athletic shoes. He was run off at gun point three times and found more dead bodies than he ever wanted to see.

Then he found something he really needed. A house with a swimming pool. He went through the house to find a bar of soap and a couple of towels. He stripped at the side of the pool, noticing the smell that clung to him. He walked down the steps and shivered. The water was cold on his overheated body. Rob soaped up and swam a few strokes. Suddenly noticing the sand in the bottom of the pool, he hurriedly exited the pool, fearful the sand was still radioactive.

Dressed again, and feeling one-hundred-percent better, even if still weak and now completely bald, Rob picked up the handle of the suitcase. Leaving his old things behind, Rob dragged the suitcase he found. It had rollers and was the only thing allowing him to gather up and carry what he’d found. As he went around the side of the house, he saw the bicycle. It was a little girl’s bike, but it did give him an idea.

“I bet I missed a bunch of them!” he said aloud, angry at himself for not thinking of the idea sooner. He left that yard and went into the next and added garages to his search. It was getting dark and Rob was exhausted when he found a bicycle he thought he could ride. And the child carrier trailer would let him bring everything else he’d gathered up.

But Rob looked up at the sky and decided that leaving now, with the rain coming, would be more than stupid. He’d spend one more day in the development before he left. Perhaps he could find some rain gear. He hadn’t been looking before.

Rob tried to get up the next morning, after sleeping in yet another basement, but he just didn’t have the energy. He had done too much the previous day. So he simply languished, eating twice as much as he’d been getting in one day, since he’d found enough the day before for several days.

Besides, a pounding thunderstorm raged most of the day. Even in the basement, Rob jumped each time lightening flashed and thunder sounded. Rob was able to sleep quite a bit, in between cells of the storm passing through.

He woke up when it got dark and had to feel his way around. Deciding it wasn’t worth the hassle Rob just curled up again on the sofa and went to sleep.

The sun was shining through an eastern facing basement window the following morning. Still stiff and sore and weak, Rob ate and went to the bathroom before he went upstairs, the act of dragging the suitcase up the stairs enough to make him sit down for a half an hour before he continued.

With the suitcase in the trailer, Rob got on the bike and headed down the slight slope. It was the first time he’d ridden one in years, but he was able to control the bike, even with the trailer, adequately. What he didn’t remember was how hard it was to pedal up even a slight slope.

He could make it up the gentle ones, and coast down the other side. Rob had to stop and rest going up the steeper and longer grades, getting off the bike perhaps halfway up and pushing it to the top after he rested.

Rob was able to coast the last long stretch downhill and out of the entrance of the development. He turned away from the city and began to pedal slowly. Rob wasn’t going very fast, but he did make some progress, looking for he knew not what. For five days he traveled the same way, stopping each night, sometimes in a basement, sometimes not, but always inside. He saw stopped cars and many dead people. Most looked like they’d been searched for anything of value.

Suitcases were opened and the contents scattered. Rob was sure some of the people had been shot, and not died from the radiation.

He ran out of food the fifth day. Rob had not been trying to salvage anything while he was traveling. The traveling seemed to be the more important accomplishment. He changed his tactics the next day and began looking for food as he traveled. He still had to rest often, but he found enough food for the day and managed to get a couple miles further away from the city.

The following day, life changed for Rob. He was barely on the road when he heard a commotion coming his way. Not sure what to expect, he wanted to get the bike and trailer off the road and to hide himself, but it was a stretch of open ground. He simply stood there, waiting for whatever was to come.

It was the State National Guard. The Humvee in the lead had a machine gun of some kind mounted on the roof. Rob didn’t know weapons. It was just a big machine gun to him. And it was pointed right at him.

“Got another one!” called out one of the men in the Humvee.

The man behind the machine gun addressed himself to Rob. “Don’t move buddy. Get your hands up where we can see them.”

It wasn’t what Rob expected, but he did as told. To men came up from one of the vehicles behind the lead Humvee, dressed in protective suits, including full face respirators. One held a rifle on Rob while the other ran an instrument all over Rob’s form, the bike, trailer, and contents.

“He’s clean!” said the man with the detector as he turned around.

Again the man in the lead Humvee spoke. “In with the rest.”

Still at gunpoint, Rob was taken along the line of vehicles to a large truck with the cargo area covered in canvas. One of the men had to help Rob climb up into the truck. With the help of one of those already inside, Rob made it in and, panting, took a seat on the benches running along each side of the enclosure.

“My stuff…” he said, his voice weak. But the two men were gone. Rob looked up. There was another Humvee, again with a big machinegun. And it was pointed into the back of the truck.

“Hey. What’s your name?” asked the man that had helped Rob into the truck.

“Rob Venton. What about my stuff? Will they give it back?”

“Hi. I’m Allan Cooper. I don’t think so, but maybe.” The two men watched as another Guardsman wheeled the bike and trailer further down the convoy, picked it up and pitched it into another truck, this one with an open cargo area.

Rob winced at the sight. The other truck didn’t have much in it, compared to the number of people in this one.

“Why are they pointing guns at us?” Rob asked, taking a look at the others. They all looked to be in much better shape than he was.

“It’s a dangerous world out there. People robbing and looting. There’ve been some Guard killed when on patrol and their guns and equipment taken. They aren’t taking any chances now.”

Allan was a talker, Rob realized. He wouldn’t have to ask much in the way of questions. Allan was volunteering plenty of information. “They got me up the road a ways,” Allan said.

Nodding toward the others, he added, “Some of these before me and some after me. No trouble so far. You must be wondering how I know so much. See. I had a ham radio and have been listening to some other guys in various areas. It’s the same all over. The local Guard unit comes in and rounds up survivors.

Everyone has to be processed. Still don’t know what that entails. But you’re put in a camp. They’ll feed you, but if you want more, you have to work for it. How much radiation did you get? You look like you got a lot.”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, to lose hair and those bloody gums, and I bet you bruise really easily, too, don’t you? You must have got a lot.”

Rob nodded.

Allan fell silent when a machinegun sounded. Rob crouched down in fear. Allan stuck his head around the back of the canvas for a moment. He quickly sat back down when the gunner on the Humvee yelled at him.

“Some idiots in a monster truck,” Allan said quietly. “That Ma Deuce tore it to pieces. Who in their right mind would try to take on a convoy like this?”

Rob stayed silent, though he thought, “Must be that group in the development. Got what they deserved.”

A few minutes later and five stretchers carried by four Guardsmen each went past the truck. Rob and Allan could hear one of the stretcher bearers speak to the Humvee gunner guarding the truck. “This was the bunch we were looking for. Done their last bad deed.”

“They were looking for them?” Rob asked.

“Yeah. I guess so. Must have been one of the groups that have been on the prowl since the radiation faded some.”

“Do you know what happened? Who attacked us? Was it everyone or just here?”

“Worldwide nuclear war,” Allan said with quiet authority. “Ever since the airwaves cleared, I’ve been talking to other hams around the world. Aren’t many. And the news is the same everywhere. They got plastered.

“Here in the US, as far as I can tell, every major military, industrial, and major population center was hit with at least one. Some got more. Like us.”

“Yeah,” Rob said softly.

Allan fell silent, lost in his own thoughts. So was Rob, but he didn’t seem to have any thoughts to get lost in. He was just dazed from the situation.

Having met its objective, the convoy turned around and headed to the FEMA camp some sixty miles away. Since they’d already done the sweep getting to the point they found Rob and then the monster truck, they travelled at high speed. It wouldn’t be long before Rob knew his fate.

Rob watched his gear being unloaded and taken away. Then it was his turn. One of the Guardsmen hustled the group out of the back of the truck and had them line up beside it. There were five other men, besides Rob, and three women.

What Rob took as a doctor, by the way he was dressed, walked up and began a quick examination of everyone, starting at the far end. Rob couldn’t hear what was said until the doctor was finished with the man on the other side of Allan. “Work barracks. Full rations. Unlimited water.”

Allan’s determination was the same. “Work barracks. Full rations. Unlimited water.”

The doctor frowned when he saw Rob. Rob got a good look at the doctor’s eyes. They looked as haggard as Rob felt.

“How much did you get?” asked the doctor.

“I don’t know,” Rob replied. “I stayed in basements and…”

The doctor turned away and told the next Guardsman in line to take the survivors to the barracks the doctor ordered, “WTD barracks. Half rations. Unlimited water. No meds.”

“Half rations?” Rob asked as the Guardsman took him by the arm.

“If you’re alive in thirty days, I’ll review the case.”

A gentle tug was all it took for the Guardsman to get Rob moving. He was too weak to resist. As he stumbled along, the hand strong on his arm, Rob asked, “What does WTD mean? The WTD barracks?”

“I’m not sure you want to know,” the sentiment did stop the guardsman from continuing. “Waiting to die barracks. If you survive on half rations, as sick as you are, you’ll probably live a few more years. If not… Well… You’ll be dead and won’t have to worry about anything anymore. We simply don’t have the resources to keep high maintenance patients going.”

Rob couldn’t believe it. They were just going to let him die. When they arrived at the gate in the chain link fence around the WTD barracks, Rob was handed off to another Guardsman, this one a woman. She at least seemed sympathetic.

“Okay, Chief. Let’s get you settled.”

“Why is there a fence around this one and not the others?” Rob asked, having noticed that it was the only fenced enclosure inside the main fenced area.

“Not for you to worry,” she replied. “Here you go. Fill out these forms and we’ll get you a cot so you can lie down.”

Rob was too weary to object, much less do anything physical about it. He sat down across a desk from another Guardsman, filled out the forms and leaned back in the chair. The Guardsman looked over the papers and then motioned to the woman.

She more picked him up out of the chair than he rose from it. With a firm grip she guided him deeper into the large tent. Rob nearly gagged at the stench. He saw more than two dozen men and women that looked about like him. Some looked worse. Four Guardsmen were transferring one man to a body bag. Rob assumed he was dead.

“Here you go,” said Rob’s escort, sounding much too cheerful for the way Rob was feeling. “You’ll get a change of clothes each week you are with us, along with a change of bed dressings. An MRE a day, and you can have all the water you want to drink. If you are in some pain, I can give you aspirin, Tylenol, or Excedrin, but that’s all.

“Now, why don’t you lie down and I’ll go get that MRE for you, and your personal water bottle. Don’t drink from anyone else’s bottle and don’t let anyone drink from yours. There is a latrine at the other end of the tent. Try to make it if you can. If there is trouble from another patient about the food, call for help immediately.”

Rob slumped down on the cot and nodded. But the thought of food brought him out of it for a few minutes when the MRE was handed to him. It took a minute to figure everything out. There were envious eyes from some of the others lying on their cots or sitting at one of the tables scattered here and there in the tent.

For the thirty days that Rob was in the WTD barracks, he saw many taken out in body bags, and only a tiny handful go out on their own two feet. But the thirty days passed and he was still alive. He actually did feel much better, but was still weak.

When taken to the medical tent, the same doctor saw him that had assigned him to the WTD barracks.

“So. Rob, is it?” the doctor asked, looking at a one page report the attendants in the barracks had filled out.

“You think you’ll live?”

“If I get more food,” Rob said. “Even sedentary, one MRE a day leaves me feeling starved.”

“Yes. Of course. Okay then. We’ll put you on a light physical work detail and see if you can hack it.” The doctor turned to the Guardsman that had brought Rob over. “Restricted barracks, paperwork only. Full rations. A gallon a day of water.”

Again Rob was led away to another barracks tent. This one was fairly well lighted. At one end there were cots and near the entrance were rows of tables and chairs. Turned over to the person in charge, Rob was assigned a cot, a work spot, and issued a pencil.

“What’cha do, Slick, is to transfer the information from the individual sheets to the ledger. Write neatly and we’ll get along just fine.”

For three months, through the winter, Rob worked diligently, getting two MREs a day, and his gallon of water. He could feel his strength returning. The Guard Lieutenant in charge of the barracks came over at the end of the three months and said, “Report to the Admin tent.”

“Yes, sir,” Rob replied, getting up too quickly. His vision tunneled and went a bit gray and he had to hold onto the desk for a moment before he could leave.

He joined a group of men and women milling around the entrance to the Administration tent. There were a couple of large busses parked nearby. After a few minutes, the camp commander came outside and addressed the group.

“People, listen up. You each have proven yourself to be tough enough and resourceful enough to make it this amount of time in some hardship. We need this camp for more of those like yourselves when you got here. You have two options. An extra set of clothing, a week’s worth of food, and it won’t be MREs, and six bottles of water and you’re out the front gate.

“Or, since the nation is in dire need of more food production, you can go with these gentlemen to one of the areas not as badly affected as this one. They are operating a large farming project, the old fashioned way, for the most part. Mean’s some hard work, but you’ll get three squares a day, and a few amenities.

“You will be paid a small wage to be used as you see fit, though, at the moment, there isn’t much to buy. And you’ll be helping our nation recover.

“You have ten minutes to think it over. Out the gate on your own, or as dirt farmers in a safe area, with plenty of food to eat, a safe, comfortable place to sleep, and no worries about outside dangers. The farm complex is well protected.”

A hand touched Rob’s shoulder and he jumped. It was Allan. “Hey, Rob. What are you going to do?”

“I’ll never make it on my own out there. I’m going to be a farmer.”

“You don’t think it’ll be more like a prison work camp?”

“Why would I think that?” Rob asked.

“I don’t know. Just rumors.”

“Well,” Rob said, thinking things through, “there probably are prison camps. For malcontents and criminals. I’m neither. I’m going.”

“I guess you have a point. Let’s buddy up and watch each other’s back. What do you say?”

“Yeah. That’s a good idea. Being on my own wasn’t too successful.” Rob was the first one to move over toward the busses. Allan was right behind him. All but six people joined them.

It was a long ride, but they got their twice daily MREs on the trip, and plenty of water. Despite what he’d said, Rob breathed a deep sigh of relief when the busses pulled into the driveway of what was obviously a huge farming operation.

There were no fences. No barbed wire. People were moving around freely, looking happy and healthy.

“You know, Allan, I think I’m going to like it here.”

“Yeah,” Allan replied, looking over at group of young women hanging out laundry. They were talking and laughing. “I think I’ll like it here, too.


End ********

Copyright 2009
Jerry D Young