Fiction - Visions of 2012

[Jerry D Young]

Visions of 2012 - Chapter 1

I could tell that Homer was excited. His eyes sparkled and he spoke animatedly to the other customers of the store as he approached me.

“Jeremy, old son! How go the wars?”

“Same old same old,” I said, wondering what was on my old friend’s mind. It didn’t take long for me to find out.

Homer lowered his voice and looked around conspiratorially when he told me, “I had a Vision last night! A real Vision. About 2012! We don’t have anything to worry about! It’s a fact…”

Homer’s words faded away as one of the clerks came up to me and asked me to okay a check. I was becoming a little leery of taking checks for payment, but Jesse was a long time customer so I initialed the check.

As soon as Annie was gone, Homer urgently asked me, “Can you take a break so we can talk? I really need to tell you about this Vision. It’s vitally important!”

“Sure, Homer,” I said. “Let’s go back to my office.” Homer followed eagerly as I went to the ‘office’ the five managers of the store shared. It was hardly an office. Small computer desk, with chair and computer, couple of file cabinets and a coat tree. That was it.

I sat down in the chair and swiveled it to look at Homer. He could barely contain himself. “What is this about a vision? And why shouldn’t I be worried anymore?”

“The Vision. It wasn’t a dream, I swear! It was a real Vision like the prophets of old had!”

“Prophets of old?” I asked, barely managing to hold my laughter in check. Homer had a tendency toward extremes.

“Yeah! Yeah! Prophets of old.” Home shrugged and added, “Some not so old, I guess, like Edgar Cayce. But Nostradamus, and the ancient Mayans and the Hopi, and gee… All of those old prophecies!”

“And you had a vision of prophetic events.”

“Yes! You got it! Man! It was wild! Like I was right there, above the action, but able to see everything that happened. You can sell off your preps and live a normal life, now. Nothing is going to happen during 2012. I know it. From the Vision. It’s all just a plot to get people excited so they will be in the right frame of mind to buy preps! All those other prophecies are just a plot. They aren’t real. Not like my Vision.”

“I see. You saw that it is a plot by big business to sell prep goods in 2012?”

“Yes! Exactly! But I’m too smart for that. I’m going to sell what you made me get and take a cruise.”

I shook my head. I couldn’t help it. Homer was going off the deep end. Again. It had taken me years to convince him that preparing for the worst and hoping for the best was a logical, solid, conservative way to go about life.

“Homer,” I said, “Don’t be too hasty. Let’s discuss this more thoroughly. Tonight at the Möbius. I’m meeting Gloria there. But you know she’s always late.”

“Uh… Jeremy… Gloria doesn’t like me,” Homer said.
“You have a point,” I had to admit. Gloria’s attitude toward Homer was a bit beyond dislike. She loathed him, with a passion. Primarily because he supported me in prepping. At least he had, after I convinced him of the advantages. Who knew what the situation might be now, with Homer wanting me to dump my preps. I shook my head. “All right. I do want to talk to you about this, but I need to get back to work.”

“Come over to the apartment after you take Gloria home. You can help me sort out my preps and get them ready to sell. I’ve got a lot of money in them and want to get all of it back that I can.”

“We’ll discuss that, too,” I said, getting up from the chair.

The plan made, Homer didn’t waste any time leaving the store. He was on a tear and I hoped he wouldn’t do anything too rash before I had a chance to talk to him about his ‘Vision.’

Annie’s checkout teller light was flashing and I hurried to see what the problem was. The never ending duties of a grocery store day manager.

As usual, I was fifteen minutes early to pick up Gloria, and she was running a good fifteen minutes late. I resisted the temptation to have a drink while I waited for her to finish getting ready. Instead, I flipped on the TV and tuned it to the Weather Channel. I watched the Weather Channel a lot in those days. One of their specials on disasters was running and I sat down to watch it. I’d seen it, but it was better than twiddling my thumbs.

“Oh, turn that off, Jeremy!” Gloria said, coming out of the apartment bedroom. “It is so depressing. I wish you would get over this kick of yours.”

“Now, Gloria, we talked about that. It’s part of my lifestyle, plus it’s a hobby I enjoy.”

“Yes, yes, yes, I know. I don’t want to discuss it further. Hold my wrap.”

I took the heavy cloth coat and held it while Gloria slid her arms up the sleeves. I settled it into place and she turned to look at the hall mirror to check her hair before we left the apartment.

Gloria handed me the keys to her car. She wouldn’t ride in my truck, and refused to drive herself if I was along. It was okay with me. I rather like pampering women. Some women. Gloria enjoyed it rather too much, sometimes. Opening doors, both vehicle and building, carrying bags, driving, and especially paying.

I don’t want to be too hard on Gloria. She wasn’t all that bad. But that evening probably saved me a lot of grief later. We went to Ace’s Möbius Bar & Grill. One of the very few places that I frequented that she would condescend to venture into.

I have to admit, it is a real kick to go there. Never know who or what you might see. And all the pictures he had on the wall… Unsigned, but they looked so real that you thought you might just fall into one of them if you weren’t careful. And the sculpture… Same thing. If you catch sight of one of them out of the corner of your eye you would swear they were alive. But I digress.

We went in and I said hello to Ace. Gloria always stayed on the opposite side of me if Ace was around. She found him intimidating. I didn’t. I thought he was just cool. I never saw him look up a drink recipe when he was working the bar, and there was a constant process of his regulars to stump him.

I ushered Gloria over to a booth and helped her out of her coat. One of the employees was right there to take it and hang it up for us. Gloria got her drink order in. With a funny feeling that had nothing to do with the Möbius, I decided to not even have a single drink. When driving I often had one or two, if we had a good meal to go with it. But I suddenly wanted all my wits about me. “Tonic water with lime,” I told Shelia after Gloria ordered.

“Oh, do have some wine with dinner,” Gloria said.

“I’d better stick with the soft stuff since I’m driving.”

“As you wish. Just a shame to waste part of a bottle. You know champagne doesn’t keep.” Gloria made no bones about it. She was going to have wine. A bottle. An expensive bottle of Champagne. And if I didn’t drink some, then that was just too bad for me.

For ostensibly being a Bar & Grill, the Möbius had a first class kitchen. Gloria ordered a chicken dish. I think it might have been spite that caused me to order the filet and lobster tail. Gloria wouldn’t eat red meat and was allergic to most seafood.

I saw Gloria stiffen and looked over to where she was staring. It was Homer. He waved when he saw me. Gloria didn’t like it one bit.

“Did you invite him here?”

“No, I did not,” I said, not being especially apologetic about it. “We’re meeting after you and I have dinner to discuss some things.”

“I’ve told you that I will not be around him.”

“I know,” I replied, becoming more annoyed than I had ever let myself get around Gloria. “You aren’t invited to the meeting.”

“Well! If you feel that way about it, good evening! I’m leaving. When you come to your senses and come crawling back to me, be prepared to pay a price.”

I stood up automatically when Gloria did. But I didn’t accompany her to the coat check to get her coat, nor go out to take her home. She could drive herself home. Knowing I probably shouldn’t, as annoyed as I was with Homer and Gloria, I waved Homer to join me.”

“I thought we were meeting at your place. After dinner.”

“Well,” Homer said rather sheepishly. “You mentioned here and I suddenly wanted to get a drink, and I was in the area, and…”

“Never mind, Homer. Never mind. But you probably don’t have to worry about Gloria anymore. Unless I miss my guess, I just saw the last of her.”

“Oh, Gee! Jeremy, I wasn’t trying to break you two up! Especially now. When you get rid of all your preps, maybe she’ll come back.”

I shook my head. “She made it pretty clear that I either come crawling to her or things are over.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Here comes the food. You might as well stay and have Gloria’s chicken.”

“Sure! You don’t mind?”

“No need to waste it,” I replied. “Or the Champagne.” I let the server fill both glasses with the Champagne and then dug into my meal. By the end, I was feeling pretty good. The food was as good as any I’d ever had, and the Champagne, though not Cristal, was more than just all right. And Homer, when he wasn’t on some tear or in the middle of a scheme, could be rather entertaining, in an “Oh, my Lord! Did he really say that?” sort of way.

So I was relaxed and in an easy mood when Homer finished up his dessert and leaned forward over his coffee to talk to me in hushed tones. “You really understand what I was talking about earlier? I really think you should do what I’m planning on. Can we go over to my place so you can help me drag out things and put a price on them? I’m going to have a sidewalk sale this weekend, I think.”

“Before we start selling off your things, Homer, tell me a little more about this vision you had.”

“It was so cool!” Homer was excited again. “Just like I told you. I was sort of just hovering over everything going on. Scene after scene. All of them about bankers and big corporation presidents getting together to plan on how to fleece the people leading up to and through 2012. It’s all a big joke to them.”

“I see. And you’re convinced this vision will come to pass?”

“Of course,” Homer said. “It’s a Vision,” he added, greatly stressing the word, as if that would make it obviously true.

“Well, you know I haven’t bought into the prophesies too deeply. Of course, there may be something to them…”

Homer was shaking his head. “That’s just it. Those visions are faked. Mine is real.”

“Be that as it may,” I continued, “there will be some type of event during that time frame, simply because enough people do believe there will be one. It’ll be riots, or people not going to work and the infrastructure going down because of it. There may be weather or tectonic activity, too, but that’s been increasing for some time, anyway.”

“But it won’t happen. Things will just fade away as people realize there is no need to worry. It was all in my Vision.”

“Okay,” I said, “Even if your vision comes true, what about all the other things that can happen between now and then. And afterward. There is still a real need for preps.”

“But they won’t affect me. I was there. In the Vision. Doing just fine. Nothing happens to me between now and then.”

Homer’s enthusiasm began to fade when I didn’t jump onto his bandwagon. “You’re not going to help me get rid of my prep gear, are you?”

“I didn’t say that,” I said, thinking quickly. “I tell you what I’ll do. I’ll buy your equipment and supplies, over a period of time, and finance a cruise for you right away. Sort of keep it in the family.”

Homer perked up. “Really?” But his face fell. “But you don’t believe me. If you did, you’d be selling your stuff, not buying mine.”

“Homer, I don’t base my preps on any one given fact. Even if your vision is accurate, I still feel there are other reasons to have preps. You’ve had one vision. Why not wait a while and see if you have another that might be different. In the meantime, to keep your mind at peace, we can move your stuff to my house and you can book that cruise you want.”

“Well… Okay… I guess… I wish you’d believe me.”

“Homer,” I said, “I believe you had a vision. But you know how some visions are. Hard to interpret.”

“But it was so clear!”

“Well, most people that have visions have more than one. Let’s give it some time, do like I suggested. Perhaps on the cruise more things will come to you.” It was a stretch, but I didn’t want to see Homer lose all the preps he’d worked so hard to accumulate.

“Okay. But you’ll see. You’ll see.”

We left it at that for the evening. Homer offered to take me home when I said I was leaving, but he was engaged in a game of darts with a flirtatious redhead and I didn’t want to interrupt things. So I used the cab that seemed to always show up at the Möbius when one was needed and went home.

I already had extensive preps at the house, and it took some rearranging to fit in all of Homer’s equipment and supplies. I’d always kept the garage clear so I could keep my rig inside. Both to keep it out of sight and protect it from the weather. Not that it is fragile, mind you, I just don’t like to take a chance nor sweep snow off if I don’t have to. It’s a good size rig and takes a while to clean off the snow. But out it went and in came Homer’s stuff.

Well, Homer took his cruise, at my expense. I do think it was worth it. He was ecstatic when he returned. “Best thing I ever did,” he told me when we met up at the Möbius after he got back. “You should sell some of your preps and go. You’ll love it!”

“Sounds great, Homer. I’m glad you had a good time. Any more visions?”

“Nah. Just that one. But I’m more and more convinced it was accurate. I just don’t know why you won’t believe me.”

“Come on Homer. It’s not that I don’t believe you. It’s just… Well, I’m a natural born prepper. Just can’t get it out of my system.”

“Yeah. I know. I guess,” Homer replied. “You do what you gotta do and I’ll do what I need to do.”

“Uh… What’s that mean, exactly, Homer?”

“Well, I won’t include you, but I’m going to try to convince people about the situation. Take my Vision public. Get people to stop wasting time on preps. There are good times coming, Jeremy. Not anything like you imagine might happen.”

“Oh. I see.”

“But don’t worry. I’ll keep your name out of it. And I won’t pressure you anymore to do the right thing.”

“The right thing? Now Homer,” I said, starting to feel a bit annoyed.

“I know, Jeremy. You don’t agree. That’s okay. There will be more like you. But I intend to save the rest all the grief and pain that survivalism and prepping cause.”

Homer got up. I sat there stunned. I didn’t know what to say.

“And don’t worry about paying me for the things I gave you. The cruise is enough. I don’t want to be associated with those things any more. They’re all yours, free and clear. Look. I need to go. I met someone on the cruise that is going to help me get the word out about people like you.”

“People like me? Now wait a minute, Homer!” But Homer was walking away, his back stiff.

I have to admit, I felt a little deflated. Homer had been a good friend. But something changed him. I put it out of my mind then, but I went home more sad than I’d been in a long time.

It was over a month before I heard or saw anything about Homer. He was as good as his word. He was on a talk show, expounding on his vision. The host was eating it up. An avid left winger, he was anti anything to do with guns and preparedness.

I had a hard time believing the change in Homer. He was his usual jovial self. That wasn’t the change. It was in his attitude. He’d done almost a one eighty on his beliefs. And he was on with half a dozen other people of like mind who’d also had ‘visions’ of better times ahead, rather than the apocalyptic nature of most prophecies concerning 2012. I turned the TV off halfway through the program.


I had to admit; things went much better during 2010 and into 2011 than I ever thought possible beforehand. Through no efforts of the President or Congress, perhaps despite them, the economy made a slight upturn. It was very slight, in my opinion, but things were actually better in the summer of 2011 than they had been in 2009.

I think it was the fear of what might be coming that drove the frenetic changes. People wanted 2012 to be a non event and they were acting as if it was a foregone conclusion. But the President got the credit, and was on a roll with his social programs as a more or less happy Congress basked in reflected glory. The planet itself seemed to be in on the process. Both serious weather problems and tectonic events slowed during those years.

Since the elections were coming up, several key programs that the President and team wanted were put on hold until he could be reelected and could do pretty much anything he wanted. So the constant threat of a firearm restrictions, precious metals recall, and another handful of laws that the conservatives were worried about getting passed were of much less concern.

Naturally, with the DJIA way up, gold and silver prices way down, and one of the most important prep items, food, in ample supply due to good weather in several key ‘breadbasket’ areas of the world, I took advantage of my promotion and increase in salary.

Having taken Homer’s words to heart about his prep items, I incorporated them into mine in a more organized way, and with the additional money I was making, extended my own preps significantly.

It was pretty easy. And relatively cheap. With things seeming to be going so well, and many people buying into the good times scenario, some of those with a less strongly held belief in being prepared began to sell off their preps. And with prices of many of the new items down already, there were many real bargains on pre-owned items.

I didn’t gouge anyone, but I drove a hard bargain. I doubled my prep resources for less than one-half what I paid for the original equipment and supplies. And that didn’t include Homer’s stuff.

Homer and his new ‘visionary’ friends were the guests of honor on one of the late night talk shows welcoming in January 2012. The ball dropped in New York and all those in the spotlight of the show raised glasses and forecast the best year ever in 2012. The particular group around Homer were past the vision stage. They were now forecasters, based on their success rate the last two years.

I flipped off the TV and went back to bed, shaking my head. Even if certain prophesied events didn’t happen, there were still all the old problems that could crop up at any time. Like the Great Blizzard of February 2012.

From the Arctic to well into Texas, the middle of the United States was crippled. There were hundreds of deaths, and a great deal of damage done to the infrastructure of the area. Homer was on one of his group that was interviewed on a news show about the blizzard. He didn’t have much to say.

But spring came and things looked good again. We were out of Iraq and Iran had yet to go in, the way I have to admit I thought they would. Jerusalem was peaceful, and even the near constant harassing attacks on Israel from several Arab and Islamic factions had slowed to almost nothing.

I have to say it, though it sounds self serving. I was waiting for the next shoe to drop. Things were going too well, if that is possible. And I felt my insides gnawing with worry that when that shoe dropped it wouldn’t be a simple shoe. It would be Paul Bunyan’s brogan.

But even I had to agree that despite a few small things, Christmas of 2012 was shaping up to be a very good one. Though, while the Feel-Gooders, as they were generally called, had their disciples like Homer, those not buying into the feeling had a few non-representative soothsayers on their side.

Rather eerily quiet for the last two years, the people with signs and bullhorns declaring the imminent destruction of the world suddenly appeared just about everywhere around the world starting December 18th.

None of the prophecies seemed to be coming true. Spirits were high. Except for one very unstable South American President. Through his wheelings and dealings with Iran, Russia, China, Pakistan, and a couple more nations in need of cash and/or oil, he obtained seven nuclear warheads and the means to deliver them from off all four coasts of the US.

For whatever reasons he had, Chavez gave the signal to launch the missiles at dawn of the 21st of December, 2012. An old, but still deadly, Russian twenty-five megaton warhead hit Washington, D.C. first. Followed a few minutes later, in sequence, by fifteen megaton warheads on Savanna, Georgia; Galveston, Texas; and Los Angeles, California. Ten megaton warheads exploded in Seattle, Washington; San Francisco, California; and Chicago, Illinois. All were ground bursts and all detonated.

The combination destroyed a huge part of the US harbor capacity, oil refining and shipping capacity, spread fallout over large areas, and killed roughly seventeen million people outright, all in the span of a few minutes.

I was just getting up when the NOAA National Weather Service alert radio sounded an alarm tone. But all that was said was to stand by for an announcement. I flipped on the TV and went to the Weather Channel. They were showing a shot of a rising mushroom cloud. The one over New York City. With all the detonations being ground bursts, the EMP effect was limited and communications were still up.

The network switched to each of the targets in turn, giving wind directions and speed to aid in the evacuations of surrounding surviving populations that would be exposed to fallout in a matter of minutes.

I switched to Fox News Channel. It too was switching views from one target to another. They already had an ‘expert’ on camera discussing the severity of the attacks.

I dressed in my ‘Apocalypse’ wardrobe, rather than suit and tie, grabbed something to have for breakfast when I had a chance, and headed out to check on the three stores now under my management.

Having planned for something like this, I intended to lock down the stores, and allow only a set number of people inside at a time, with a limit on many critical items to any one customer.

The first store I went to gave me the pattern for the others. I was woefully late in trying to get my plan put into action. The night shift manager had panicked and tried to lock down the store, just as I was planning, but he didn’t let anyone in after he locked things up.

From what one of the clerks, standing outside watching the activity, told me, only minutes after the doors were locked, a pickup with a winch had yanked them off their hinges. Several of the staff had left, since trying to stop the looting could very well cost them their lives.

People were streaming in and out, with fewer and fewer of those coming out having anything in their hands. Fistfights were breaking out and I saw one handgun being drawn. I looked around and saw a police patrol car driving by and waved at the officers inside. They just kept going.

Giving up the store as lost, I told the remaining employees to go home until contacted or other instructions were given by the authorities. Then I headed for the second store. It was a repeat of the first. Nothing, barring a heavily armed SWAT team, was going to prevent the store from being looted down to empty shelves. I told the employees the same thing I’d told the others.

The third store was a different manner. Kellie was a sharp cookie and had done what I planned to do. She’d locked the doors, but was allowing a few people inside at a time. So far it was working. I managed to signal Carter, who was manning the doors, that I was going around back. I saw him nod and I hurried around the store, to the truck bay.

There was a personnel door too, and when I knocked on it I had to give my name before they let me in. The door was immediately relocked. Sam told me where to find Kellie and I went to talk to her.

“Good job, Kellie,” I told her. “You did the right thing.”

“It’s scary, Mr. Wilkins. I didn’t know what else to do. People were yelling that they would break down the doors if I didn’t let them in. Carter said he’d cover the doors if I would let in no more than five people at a time. If he wasn’t so big, I don’t think it would have worked.”

I had to smile at that. Saying Carter was big was a major understatement. He was an ex college football star that didn’t go pro because of injuries. He was big, and fast, and willing to deal out a little mayhem if necessary.

“How much are you allowing each customer?” I asked Kellie as we watched the next five people come in when Carter let out the five that had gone through the checkout.

“Just one cart, and no more than five of any single item or type of item. Some of the first people grabbed two carts to start with and were raking whole shelves of items into them. We stopped that, barely, and have been doing okay since Carter started laying down the rules to people before they came in.”

“How is stock holding out?”

“It’s not,” Kellie said. “We’ll be out in less than two hours at this pace.”

There was a commotion at the front door and I started that way to back up Carter. A shot sounded and Carter went down. A few seconds later and a car, horn blowing constantly, slammed into the doors, barely missing half a dozen people that had to scramble to get out of the way.

I ran to check on Carter. He was dead. People began to swarm in. There was no way to stop them without shooting several, and I’m not sure that would have done it before I got overrun. “Everyone that works here!” I yelled out, “Just get out! Go home. Be safe. Don’t try to save anything!”

Two or three hesitated, but when Kellie broke for the back room, the others followed. I eased backward, watching for trouble, my hand on my pistol in my back pocket. I didn’t draw it, and then I was outside with the others.

I reiterated my instructions for the employees to go home, headed for my rig, and followed my own advice. I figured I had fulfilled my duties as manager. I wasn’t going to get killed trying to stop desperate people from getting food.

I had a passing thought about Homer, but he’d made his bed. He would just have to lie in it. I didn’t even know where he was. He might very well be in New York, at ground zero.

I didn’t have any trouble getting home. I did have some trouble getting a phone to work. The landlines as well as the cell system were overloading. I finally made connections with my boss and filled her in on what had happened. I got an earful on why I should be out there, preventing the looting. By the time I hung up I was without a job.

So be it. I had a feeling it would be some time before there was another grocery store to manage. At least, the type of stores I’d been managing. A trade center, on the other hand…

But I’m getting ahead of myself. For the moment, I just hunkered down, listened to the news and weather, and checked my computer inventory against actual amounts on hand. Of course they came out the same, but I needed something to do besides watch the tube and listen to the radios.

I have a small, simple retreat up in the mountains, but I wasn’t too worried about being at ground zero of a nuke, unless one went way off course. I had good shelter at the house. I had an illegal septic system and an approved irrigation well for the garden that produced better water than the city did. And it was better equipped for biological and chemical weapons than my back-up retreat. So I settled in for the short term to see how things might play out.

The days passed and nothing further happened, except a lot of yelling and screaming in the UN. US citizens were also yelling and screaming. For revenge for one thing. But also for more, better, and faster cleanup and recovery of the areas hit. Shelter and new lives for those that were displaced.

My thoughts about trying to find another job were interrupted when Margery, my old boss called me up and told me I needed to get down to one of the stores because the workmen where there, ready to repair the damage caused by looters. No apology, no asking me to come back, just an order to hurry up and get busy because the company was losing money.

I thought about it and decided, “Why not? It’s what I know best. It’s available. And the money isn’t bad. Just have to try and get some additional safeguards put into place.” So I put on my suit and tie, grabbed my BOB, and went out to the truck.

Margery must have had something of a change of heart, or, more likely, orders from above, to secure the stores so the same thing couldn’t happen again. I think I spent the company money wisely, although when Margery came down to inspect the refurbished stores she looked more than a little sour when she left. But the changes stood and everyone went back to work, except for Carter. Corporate sent flowers and Kellie and I went to the funeral. It was a sad day.

But the other employees were much happier in their jobs, knowing they were at less risk than they had been. At least on the surface. I didn’t point out that the harder the target, the more effort went into breaking into it. But at least, I thought, the security efforts would buy some time and safety for the employees. Margery shot down my request for round the clock armed guards at all three stores.

I kept one ear tuned to the NWS alert radio I now carried with me, and a careful eye on the Weather Channel and Fox News when a TV was available. The President and Congress were still debating what to do, since no one had come forth and admitted the attacks. Chavez had covered his tracks about as well as could be done by scuttling the ships that had carried the containers that were used to hide and launch the missiles.

In the minutes after the missile tracks became visible on radar, jets had been scrambled and vectored to the plotted launch points. All any of the pilots or instruments showed was deep blue water. No evidence, no retaliation. But, interesting enough, Chavez died three weeks after the attack while in deep seclusion. Food poisoning. A bad burrito was the official cause of death.

“So what are they going to do?” I asked myself. “Nuke Venezuela peons, just for revenge?” I decided the event would go unanswered. How did I know it was Chavez? It all came out years later, from one of Chavez’ insiders.

Foreign aid was pouring in, announced the President a month after the attack. More like a trickle from eye witness reports. Lots of UN troops to handle the distribution of the donated goods.

There was an ugly mood developing in the United States. With no revenge in sight, UN troops doing their normal atrocities, and the UN suddenly accusing the US of having pulled off a false flag operation to gain sympathy with the rest of the world as our economy tanked, US citizens took to the streets in protest.

At first the protests were just highly vocal and energetic. After the first incidence of the UN troops firing on the protesters, the protests took on a more violent note. US citizens fought back against the UN patrols.

The UN demanded immediate gun control in the US. That didn’t go over too well, either. Sales of guns and ammunition soared for a while, until there simply weren’t any more in the supply line. I did my job, kept a low profile, and bought more preps.

With the seven cities hit with the nukes, and downwind areas that had received significant fallout, having been evacuated to areas that had no wish for them, food supplies began to run low and every key service was overloaded.

Some of those that had been protesting the UN troops and gun control attempts were now standing guard in their own neighborhoods to protect them from refugees on the lookout for easy pickings to supplement the limited rations that the government was able to provide.

I instituted a policy early in the troubles of only allowing a limited number of customers in the store at a time, and limited purchases, just like I’d tried in the aftermath of the attack. Margery still wouldn’t spring for armed guards, but I wound up with some of the biggest, meanest looking sackers you could imagine.

Where other stores were reporting high shoplifting losses, snatch and grabs in the parking lots, and other incidents of trouble, the three stores I was responsible for were moving product with little trouble. As a matter of fact, the employees were telling me how often customers told them they appreciated the way we were handling things. Nearly everyone asked for help with carrying groceries to their vehicle, since there was nothing I could really do about the hoodlums lurking about on or near the parking lot.

I complained, of course, to all the proper authorities. I was pretty much laughed out of the various facilities where the authorities were set up. All of them. FEMA, National Guard, US Military, UN military, and the local cops. It was all the same. Handle it myself, but don’t do anything illegal.

So there I was, on New Year’s Eve, working late at the store most likely to have trouble, when who do I see enter the store? Yep. You guessed it. Homer. He looked bad. Thin, pale, and worn down.

“Jeremy? Can I talk to you?”

I almost said no. But Homer had been a good friend at one time. “Sure, Homer, sure. Come on back.”

Walking slowly, head down and shoulders slumped, Homer followed me to the small office in the back of the store.

“What am I going to do?” Homer asked plaintively. “I gave up my job… before… and they won’t hire me back. I can’t find work anywhere…”

“Look. Homer, it’s getting late. Why don’t you go get something to eat and then come back here? We’re locking up shortly after midnight. I’ll get you a room, and then we can talk about this more in the morning.” I was pulling out my wallet.

“I don’t know how to thank you. Especially seeing how I treated you back then.”

“Don’t worry about it. Here’s a twenty. Should get you a decent meal down at the café.”

Shoulders still slumped and head down, Homer turned around and headed for the front of the store. I was right behind him, but stopped when I heard something at the truck unloading door.

Before I could react, the large door disappeared and a cold wind blasted me. I noticed that the fireworks that began to sound at the stroke of midnight were much less than previous years. Then came the sounds and sights of half a dozen guns firing into the back room of the store through the missing door.

I dove to one side feeling the impacts of three bullets before I made it behind a pallet of canned goods. I tried to draw my pistol, but I was fading fast. The last thing I saw was Homer, screaming in rage, running directly at the shooters. Then he went off the unloading dock and I was out of it.

It was the cold that woke me up. I managed not to groan, afraid that the thieves would still be around and would shoot me again if they thought I was alive. Very carefully, now unable to keep my teeth from chattering in the cold, I looked around.

Then I groaned loudly, since the thieves were long gone and I saw five more bodies piled up against me, including that of Homer. There were police cars here and there and a police investigator was taking pictures. I managed to sit up, scaring the guy nearly to death.

“Got a live one over here!” he yelled, after he could speak again. He hurriedly helped me try to get out of the pile of bodies, but it hurt too much and I was out of it again.

The next time I woke up I was warm. And nauseous. Controlling my breathing so I wouldn’t heave, I looked around again. I was on a gurney, and from the feel of the sheets on my body, naked beneath them. I couldn’t help it. I groaned long and loud when I tried to move.

“Easy now, Mr. Wilkins. You’ve been seriously injured.”

“Yeah,” I said, controlling the groan. At least controlling it a little. “I was shot. Three times, I think.”

“Four times, actually. But the fourth might have come while you were unconscious. I’m Doctor Helen Blume. You should be okay. Eventually. You’re going to be here for a while. That last bullet came very close to ending your life. It’s lodged right next to your heart. We’re going to have to go in and take it out. But that will have to wait for a few hours. I’ve got several more patients to see to, first, not nearly as stable as you are at the moment.”

“More? There were other survivors? I thought…”

“Calm down, Mr. Wilkins. The other survivors… I’m sorry. Those with you are all dead. There was an organized effort to rob over twenty grocery stores in the area. We have injured from five of the incidents.”

“Okay. I’ll be here.” It was all I could think to say. It was really beginning to hit me that Homer was dead, along with several of the store employees, and probably a customer or two, unless I was badly mistaken.

They’d given me something for the pain, so I was able to relax and go to sleep. I woke up later when they put an oxygen mask on me and added something to the IV that was dripping, just prior to going into surgery, the nurse said.

Dr. Blume had not been kidding. Yes, I was okay, but man, I was in that hospital for weeks bored out of my skull. Only those with some type of complication were in rooms. I was in the hallway for most of my stay. The one great thing about being there were the daily visits by Helen… Dr. Blume. She always took a minute to chat, after checking me over. It was the bright spot of the day.

I didn’t stay as long as she would have liked, but violence was rampant, and the hospital needed the bed. So I was able to go home, under orders to take it very easy, and report back in a month, unless something happened before then. I marked the date. I didn’t know if they were going to give me back my pistol and spare magazines I had on me at the time of the attack, but I finally did get them, just before the cab I called for showed up.

When the cab took me to the store, so I could pick up my Suburban, it wasn’t there. It really floored me and I was more than a little disappointed and angry. That is, until the cab dropped me off at home. There was my Suburban, all locked up, undamaged, in my driveway.

I never did learn who took it home for me. I suspect it was the police. I asked Helen about it and she denied any knowledge of it. Considering I got it back, I’m rather glad someone had gone to the trouble to deliver it. I wasn’t feeling quite as chipper after that cab ride as I thought I would be. Driving would have been problematical.

I called Margery the next day and found out I was without a job. Again. The company wasn’t going to reopen the three stores that I managed. All had been hit that night. I was the only one that survived the attacks. The perpetrators had been thorough. They hadn’t left any witnesses, except me, and I had only seen a man in a black facemask and the working end of the gun in his hands.

I worried a little that the gang might try to find me, but I checked all the accounts and my name wasn’t mentioned. As a matter of fact, every story claimed there were no survivors and no witnesses to any of the robberies. So good for me. I didn’t have to worry about being taken out as a possible witness. But I continued to keep a gun at hand.

Can’t say I got much accomplished the next four weeks. I did get a final check from the company, including a bonus for my idea of hiring armed guards at the stores, which they were now doing at the other stores in the chain. There was also a severance check for three month’s pay.

I watched a lot of news on TV, listened to the Amateur bands, and to shortwave broadcasts. Everything I saw and heard indicated, to me anyway, that worse times were coming.

I applied for my 401(k) cashout from the company. It was my only real financial assets, other than prep items. When I got it, it took me the last two weeks of that first month to get the cash from the bank for it and the company checks. The banks were only doling out limited amounts at a time.

I bundled quite a bit of it, but poured the rest into more preps, going for a large inventory of trade goods. Since a great deal of it was food items, I rented small climate controlled storage rooms in three different facilities around town and filled them with the new purchases, plus some of what I had stacked around inside the house.

The day of my doctor’s appointment finally rolled around and I went down to the hospital early, anxious to see Helen again, even if it was strictly doctor patient. I was hoping to change that.

I finally got my chance. She checked me over after the nurse did her thing, and gave me a clean bill of health. With that out of the way, I asked, her, “Would it be all right to call you sometime? For dinner, perhaps. A movie if you’d like?” I felt nervous as I was in high school asking for a date.

Much to my surprise and delight, Helen took a business card from her smock, wrote on the back of it and handed it to me. “I’m off, supposedly, on Wednesdays and Thursdays.”

I was smiling when she left the exam room without another word. I went home and did a little house cleaning, just in case we stopped here for some reason. I over did it slightly. I was no longer under a doctor’s care, but I wasn’t completely healed. So I took a nap.

Hard to say who was most disappointed when I called Helen Tuesday afternoon to see if she wanted to catch a movie and dinner the next day. I could hear in her voice when she said she couldn’t, due to the load at the hospital. She really was disappointed and wasn’t just waving me off.

“I’ll call tomorrow, if that’s okay?” I said, not even trying to hide my disappointment.

“Absolutely. I can usually get my Thursday off if I have to work the Wednesday before. But no promises. You do understand I’m very committed to my work.”

“I understand completely,” I said. “When medicine is a calling, rather than just a job, it has to come first.”

Helen cheered up immediately. “You understand! Good. Call me tomorrow afternoon and well arrange something for Thursday.”

I was probably grinning like an idiot when I hung up the telephone. More for something to do than any expectation of finding anything, I began to look for work, using the internet that was now working after being down for weeks because of the destruction of some key nodes caused by the nukes.

With the influx of evacuees from a couple of the nuked cities, and the loss of jobs as whole divisions and companies went out of business, jobs were slim. But I found something. A job that suited me at the moment.

I’d worked construction some when I was younger, and knew my way around heavy equipment. Driving a Bobcat skid steer, after the first few minutes, came easy. There was some other work involved, but nothing that I couldn’t do, even as my wounds were healing.

I have to tell you, it was nice getting to work outside again. Didn’t realize how much I’d missed it. So after I did the demonstration drive the owner of the construction business hired me. I’d start the next Monday.

I was feeling pretty good Thursday evening when I picked up Helen at her house. It was only a few blocks from the Hospital. I guess my mood was contagious, for after only a minute or two of rather restrained talking, Helen seemed to cheer up and leave the hospital business behind her for the time being.

We caught a matinee. Don’t remember the movie. And then went to one of the nice restaurants in town. A lot of places had their doors shut, including two of the restaurants I frequented. But this was another nice one.

I managed to keep Helen talking about herself most of the evening, rather than keying on me. I think I fell in love with her during that first date. Since she had to be at work early the next morning, we made it a early evening. Plus, being out, late at night, could get you in trouble with the criminal element, UN patrols, and the local police. All were on pins and needles all the time, quick to respond with violence at the least provocation.

We didn’t shake hands when I walked Helen to the front door of her house, but she did take my hand in hers and squeezed it gently. “I had a great time this evening, Jeremy. Would you call me again?”

“You can bet on it,” I replied, hopefully not too teenish enthusiastically.

Saturday, I spent quite a bit of time, and not a little money, making some significant additions to both my general preps, but to my trade goods collection, too. I’d always included feminine needs when I was accumulating my preps, but on a more or less minor secondary basis. I bought out the inventory of two of the suppliers of self-sufficient slash PAW feminine needs. Both disposables and reusables.

Well, in the same vein, I had some baby supplies on hand as humanitarian and trade goods. I upped those levels significantly. Who knew what the future would bring.

I decided Sunday that what the future was bringing was not good. A US military unit clashed with a UN contingent and shots were exchanged. Some serious injuries resulted, primarily on the UN side.

Many other UN units began to really crack down on anything they considered was within the scope of the duties they’d been taxed with handling. More people died. Mostly civilians. But there was a quick backlash, and hunters, survivalists, preppers, highly patriotic individuals, those in military service organizations, and simply ordinary armed US citizens stepped out, guns in hands, and retaliated for each civilian life taken.

People demanded the President and Congress do something. Mostly getting the UN troops out of the country, and even the UN organization itself, if it came to that. Most of the UN detachments were now surrounded by military and armed civilians on a twenty-four seven basis. All attempts to break out failed.

The President and Congress caved in to public demand. Orders were given to the US military to escort all UN personnel, minus their equipment, to collection points. After three days, the UN troops were gone and things began to calm down.

But the administration took no heed of the situation that led up to the expulsion of the UN troops. The gold recall wasn’t going very well, with more and more instances of armed resistance to the attempt. So, because of the heavy use of civilian arms in both instances, another outcry to confiscate privately held weapons came from the President, Vice-President, the Democratic Party, and several other organizations that had long advocated gun control.

For some totally unknown reason, the UN again offered troops to help with the confiscation, only a month after the troops had been ejected. There were calls from the general population, already fed up with UN antics, for the US to withdraw and send the UN somewhere else.

When the President announced that he was going to allow the UN troops back in to help US forces disarm civilians, there were riots all over the country. Two days later hardliners within the military effected a coup d’état, taking the President, Vice-president, and quite a few others prisoner, with the intention of trying them for treason.

The lead General in the effort immediately recalled all remaining US troops on foreign soil, declared all firearms regulations null and void, except for the Second Amendment, and reined in BATFE.

General Hershing announced that the gold standard was again in effect, at $3,600.00 dollars per ounce, and linked silver to gold at thirty-six-ounces of silver to one-ounce of gold or one-hundred dollars per ounce.

Immediate deportation of illegal aliens was started. A program to fence the borders and patrol the coasts more thoroughly was announced. Immigration would be only for those that could contribute in some way to the positive future of the US.

All foreign debt was immediately defaulted. But with the announcement that the US would not pay off that debt came the announcement that all debts owed the US were forgiven. The US wouldn’t pay its foreign debts, but it didn’t expect to be paid back, either. All future foreign trade would be conducted in gold.

All government sponsored foreign aid was cut off. No more would be extended. Private aid agencies were perfectly acceptable, but they were on their own.

The world’s oil companies were told that the US would no longer buy foreign oil. Every available oil resource in the US would be tapped, as quickly as safety and a reasonable ecological attitude would allow.

Promises that the welfare system, the Federal Reserve System, and the Tax System would all be put under scrutiny and gradually phased out with other systems phased in. But those efforts would be over a long period of time, perhaps fifty to a hundred years before completely being revamped.

No one currently dependant on Federal agencies would have their benefits cut or eliminated. Only those born after the date of the announcement would be subject to the changes that took place over the next few years.

In a similar vein, the streamlining of the Federal Government and return to more State’s Rights would begin immediately, but would be a slow, carefully executed program.

A strong infrastructure rebuilding program was announced, and, related to the infrastructure rebuilding, all new public works would include WMD shelter space for twice the average number of occupants at peak times of use. The first project would be the destruction and removal of the UN complex. A new complex would be built that would provide office space for the new projects. And it would be the new headquarters of a revitalized Civil Defense operation.

In order to generate income, and encourage domestic production of many critical goods, significant tariffs on imported critical goods would be collected, in gold.

A significant rearming of the US military services was announced, with priority being given to anti-missile and spaced based weapons defense.

The members of the coup promised a return to constitutional guided government with national elections within six years.

The US Eagle was folding its wings, sitting on the nest, but sharpening its claws and beak. That was the gist of the announcement.

I, to put it mildly, was stunned. In the back of my mind, my hope had always been the US would turn around, by using the power of the vote. I can’t say I didn’t agree with General Hershing, but a coup was much further than I thought anyone would go. I guess I really didn’t know all the details of how the military was being treated, and used, by the former President.

The only thing that had me worried was the announcement about a new Civil Defense operation, with WMD shelters, and both the rearmament of the offensive forces of the US military and new defenses against a missile attack.

Those operations I fully agreed with, but knew that the governments of several other nations were not going to like it much at all. It just might prompt some response. If there was one, it wouldn’t be a good one.

It didn’t take long for the backlash to start. There were screams and rants from the most liberal sections of the US, and the foreign reaction was even worse in many cases. The only positive responses were from a handful of nations whose debt had been forgiven. Even these contained negative comments about how it should have been done sooner.

There were plenty of people agreeing with General Hershing, particularly the far right in American society. The air of jubilance was tempered with the knowledge that the coup changed everything in the US. What would happen next was anyone’s guess. I guessed problems.

And I was right. Fuel costs jumped immediately. But that was about the only effect that had a chance to occur. My worst fears were realized with the NOAA NWS Alert radio I’d taken to wearing on my belt squealed.

The Bobcat I was using to load a pickup truck with material dug for a new septic system we were installing kept running, but the truck pulling up to take the next load stopped dead in its tracks.

The pickup truck driver tried to restart it, but though the starter whined for several seconds, the engine wouldn’t catch. It was good enough sign for me. I lowered the bucket of the Bobcat, undid my seatbelt, and left the machine. I was on a dead run to my Suburban, parked on the street in front of the new house.

Several people yelled at me, asking where I was going and why, but I didn’t stop to explain. I had other things on my mind. A person, actually. Helen. I had a feeling that I would run into a brick wall with her, but I had to try. Unless I was badly mistaken, we’d just been hit with a HEMP device. Ground target warheads could be impacting any minute. The non-electronic diesel in my Suburban fired right up. I was one of the few vehicles moving on the road.

While the city probably wasn’t a target, I always worried about the accuracy of foreign weapons. What if they missed their target and one landed nearby? That’s why I had my WMD shelter. I was hoping to get Helen to come to the shelter if the situation warranted.

Sometimes I hate to be right. Helen absolutely refused to leave the hospital. There was nothing I could do, short of knocking her out and carrying her to the Suburban, to get her to go with me. And since I was pretty sure I couldn’t actually get away with it, much less being physically able to do it, I gave up on the idea of her leaving at the moment. But I insisted, and she eventually agreed to give it consideration, depending on what the future brought.

Copyright 2010

[Jerry D Young]

“What else can I do?” I asked myself. I headed for home. Not much to do, as I had been on semi-alert status for weeks. Fortunately I’d again made room in the garage for the Suburban, so I pulled in, lowered the regular garage door and closed and locked the security door. The other security panels were kept closed when I wasn’t home.

I tried the TV. I was a bit surprised that it came on. I did have Thyristor EMP protection on the whole house power system, and other wiring, and gas-gap protectors on antenna cables. I just wasn’t sure they would actually protect the house from a HEMP. The generator system had apparently survived and kicked in when commercial power went down.

Of course, it didn’t matter that my system was intact. There were no cable or satellite TV signals to capture. Effective communications were down. For how long was problematical. VHF and UHF portable radios probably survived, but even those signals would be disrupted for a while.

But since I didn’t know if the EMP protection devices had themselves survived, I went around the house and disconnected everything important from the electrical and other wired systems.

I went ahead and checked the faraday cage in the shelter. Yep. It was all closed up and all the cables disconnected outside it and grounded. My critical electronic systems were all fine. I checked every other system in the shelter. All were ready to go, as always. I wandered around the shelter, wondering what to do. I don’t usually have that problem, but this was an extraordinary situation.

I had almost convinced myself to just sit down and read a book or watch a movie. But I felt the floor of the shelter move under my feet slightly. “Uh-oh.” Kind of lame, but that is what I thought at the moment.

I ran for the shelter entrance, against my better judgment. But Helen already meant a great deal to me. Her safety was paramount in my mind. I did make sure the house was secure before I left.

“No sign of a mushroom cloud,” I muttered. For some reason I’d started talking out loud to myself. “Must be the stress…”

There were fewer people out and about than I expected. There were some working on stalled vehicles, and a few just standing around, talking. “Cause everyone else is at work…”

I debated for several seconds before I decided to park on the top floor of the parking garage attached to the hospital. The risk of the garage coming down in what I was now sure was the New Madrid Seismic Zone letting go was less, in my mind, than someone damaging the Suburban trying to steal it since it seemed to be one of the very few working vehicles. “Who’s going to go to the top floor of a garage to steal a vehicle?”

I went down the garage ramp, not even trying the elevator and cut across to the hospital on the first crossover I came to. It took me a few minutes to find Helen. She gave me a stern look, immediately stopping any thought in my mind about trying to persuade her to come with me. It really wasn’t why I was there, anyway.

To check on her yes, but not try and get her to leave. “I’m here to help,” I said. She suddenly smiled, brightening the entire area, and said, “I knew I could count on you. Come along.”

There was already a back log of emergency room patients. Not from the shake I’d felt, but for causes that the HEMP power failure caused. Lots of auto accidents as cars lost power when the HEMP occurred. Injuries caused by getting out of stalled elevators. Fistfights over nothing. Fear. Heart attacks. The whole gamut of everyday reasons, multiplied by what was happening. I understood the stress and fear of not being able to find out what was going on in a suddenly isolated spot in the world used to instant worldwide communications.

By chance, I’m sure, the wiring in the hospital didn’t get fried. Though they lost power, their emergency generator had kicked in and they had power. A few devices had not survived what surge there was, but most of the hospital equipment was still working.

Helen kept me busy all day and well into the night, mostly just helping the walking wounded get around. Fetching blankets and water. Supplies of which were rapidly disappearing. I went on a supply run, riding with the ambulance crew of the only operating ambulance the hospital had access to.

It took some fast talking by the ambulance crew to get the supplier to hand over what we needed without going through channels. I’ve got a Sam’s Club membership, as well as one for Costco. They were both busy, but with the ambulance crew there to back up my story, we were able to fill the back of the ambulance the rest of the way with case after case of bottled water.

It was coming up on darkness when we got back to the hospital. Helen was waiting anxiously. As soon as I stepped out of the ambulance she grabbed my arm and said, “Let them handle the unloading. I… w… the hospital… well the fuel supply for the generator isn’t as great as we thought. We’re going to be out of fuel by morning.”

“Great! Someone’s planning skills are atrocious.”

Helen could tell I was annoyed. Her hand still on my arm, she asked, “Is there anything you can do? I’ve been trying to get someone in authority to do something, but with communications down and vehicles not usable…”

“It’s okay,” I said, putting my hand on top of Helen’s. I’ll have fuel here by morning.”

“Thank you! I knew I could count on you.” Again with that smile.

“It’s a promise,” I said. I’d never made a promise I hadn’t kept. I meant this to be another of them.

I paced myself getting up to the Suburban. Sure enough, it was safe and sound. I fired it up and headed out. It was more than a little unnerving. The city was nearly dark. Only a handful of buildings had generators and intact wiring systems.

I debated on what to do, not exactly driving aimlessly, but at a loss on what to do. When I finally made up my mind, I took a left and headed to the nearest truck stop. I was going to beg, borrow, or steal a truckload of fuel. I’ve wondered why I didn’t add ‘buy’ to that, but it wouldn’t have been doable, anyway.

It was a near thing as it was. There were plenty of trucks in the truck stop, most of them sitting where they were when the HEMP device went off. There was some kind of light inside the truck stop building, but all the exterior lights were off.

I went to every tanker I could find and tapped the side of the trailers. I found three that were loaded. According to the safety placard, two were hauling gasoline in both trailers and the third a mixed load of gasoline in one trailer and diesel in the other.

Going inside the truck stop I flinched a little when I saw the candles burning. Not a good thing around fuel. It also looked like every flashlight in the store part of the place had been commandeered and was glowing.

“Who’s the driver with the mixed load of gasoline and diesel?”

“That would be me,” said a voice from the rear of the group watching me. It was a female voice. “What’s it to you, bud?” She didn’t sound friendly.

“The hospital is almost out of diesel for their generator. Your trailer load would buy them some time to get…”

After a few choice words that translated into a firm ‘NO!’ she got the message over that she wasn’t going to be driving the truck to the hospital, more so because she didn’t want to than the fact that her truck wouldn’t run. She finally shut up. Thankfully.

Deciding I wasn’t going to fight with her, I raised my voice and asked, “Who has an operating truck?”

There were looks around at each other, but only one hand was raised. Out of all the men there, and the few women, it was another woman that tentatively raised her hand. “Mine runs. I just wasn’t sure what to do when the power went out so I pulled in here to try to contact the office.”

“What are you hauling?” I asked as the others looked on in the dim light.

“I’m pulling a heavy equipment trailer. Empty.”

“Good enough.” I looked at the other woman. “We’re taking the trailer of diesel. Take it up with the authorities when you can. It’s City General.”

The woman started for me, something I couldn’t see in her hand. But half a dozen others grabbed her. “Go!” one of them said.

I ushered the driver of the truck with the equipment trailer out the door and we ran to her truck. It didn’t take long to drop her trailer and get close to the fuel truck. Fortunately the rear trailer was the one with the diesel. We dropped the landing gear of the trailer, but were stymied on how to move the truck and lead trailer out of the way.

Finally the woman, Sheila, said, “I’ll just back in on the side and push the dolly clear with my tailboard.”

“You can do that?”

She grinned in the light from my flashlight. “I’m actually a very good driver. Keep the light aimed so I can see what I’m doing.” She ran to her truck, and pulled around to back toward the side of the tanker near the front.

She was right. She was good. The rear of her truck contacted the tires on the dolly under the tanker. It slowly slid toward the far side, the tires on the dolly protesting loudly, while the truck tires chirped once in a while.

Sheila was lined up perfectly. It took only moments more to lower the trailer onto the fifth wheel. I raised the landing gear as Sheila hooked up the air and lights. With the brakes aired up and released, I then pushed the trailer forward into the fifth wheel with my Suburban. Sheila locked the kingpin of the trailer into it. I leaned out of the Suburban and yelled, “Follow me!”

Someone yelled from the door of the truck stop shop, but I couldn’t understand what was being said. I did understand the flashes of light and sound from the gun that someone was firing at me.

Wasting no time, I gunned the Suburban and took off. Sheila was game. She followed me, running up through the gears as I gained speed. The shooting stopped before we got out of the parking lot, but nothing seemed to have been hit and I kept going.

What I hadn’t considered was the fact that though the Suburban had not had any trouble weaving around the stalled vehicles in the road, the semi and trailer were a different story. It took most of the rest of the night to clear a path with the Suburban, pushing or pulling with the winches anything that blocked the way.

I was beat when we pulled up to the hospital. I was glad to let someone else handle the transfer of fuel from the tanker to the hospital tanks. I parked on the top floor of the garage again and went to find Helen. She was asleep in one of the doctor’s lounges so I didn’t disturb her.

There were people sleeping everywhere, so I made my way, slowly, back up to the Suburban, climbed in, locked the doors, and leaned the seat back to nap the rest of the night away.

Can’t say I slept well, but I did sleep. I woke up just before first light and made my way back down to the hospital. It was good timing. Helen was just coming out of the doctor’s lounge. I don’t think she slept well, either.

“Oh, Jeremy! The fuel?”

“A few hours ago. A full tank load.”

“Oh, thank you!”

Before I knew it, Helen was in my arms, giving me a sensational bear hug. I returned the hug, but didn’t protest when she stepped back. “I’ve got to get on my rounds.”

She colored slightly when her stomach growled. “Sorry. Haven’t eaten since… A while,” she said.

“I’ll round up some food.”

“We can’t take food out of the mouths of our patients,” Helen said, rather reluctantly.

“I won’t,” I said. “But we both need something. I’ll be back in a few. Won’t be haute cuisine, but it will keep us going.”

I hurried back to the Suburban, opened up my truck kit and took out four of the Millennium food bars it contained. A couple each of two flavors. I also grabbed a zip-lock of Gorp and two bottles of water. I re-secured everything and ran back down and found Helen working on a man in the hallway. I saw her shoulders slump and then she slowly pulled the sheet up over the man’s face.

The two nurses in attendance sighed and moved away. Helen hung her head for a few moments and then turned around. Right into my waiting arms. She didn’t stay there long, but the moments seemed to give her strength and I was glad.

“Come on. Let’s find a place to sit down again and we can have breakfast.” I held up the ration bars.

She nodded and led me outside. There was hardly room to turn around for all the people milling around those seated or lying on the ground. There were even a couple of tents set up. We managed to find a secluded spot back in a corner, shielded by a large column of the hospital structure.

“What are these?” Helen asked when I offered her a choice of Strawberry or Orange Millennium bar.

I told her. “Four hundred calories each. I keep them handy for situations like this.”

“Situations like this? How could you… Oh. You’re a survivalist.”

I couldn’t tell from her tone whether or not she approved or disapproved. Suddenly she smiled slightly and said, “Never thought I’d say this, but I’m glad you are. Thank you.”

I nodded and she took the Strawberry bar. I opened one of the orange bars and we both began to eat. Rather ravenously, I might add. We both ate two bars and finished most of the Gorp. I handed her the bag and she slipped it into the pocket of her smock. After a few sips of water, Helen insisted she get back to work.

What was I going to do? She’s a doctor. So I let her doctor while I tried to find out exactly what was going on. Being on the top level of the hospital parking garage had a couple other advantages other than a slight bit security. It also made for good radio reception. At least in theory.

I have a pretty good communications set-up in the Suburban, though I usually only have one of the scanners and a CB connected to the small farm of antennas I have mounted on the roof rack of the Suburban. I hadn’t really noticed the night before, being somewhat occupied, but the CB had, unfortunately, been fried by the HEMP. Fortunately I had a spare, but it was back at the house. The scanner was okay.

It didn’t matter about the CB, actually. My Yaesu Amateur radios were all broad band modified. Illegal as all get out, but I never had used them out of band, except for listening. That was the radio I hooked up to power and to the antenna I folded up from its folded down position.

A couple of minutes and I was listening. To static. I ran the bands, adjusting the wideband antenna as I did. There just wasn’t anything on the HF bands. The static was just about gone on the VHF and UHF, but I wasn’t hearing anyone talking.

I almost came out of my skin when the scanner broke squelch and a voice, rather loud in the stillness of a city without electricity, spoke. “Hello? Hello? Can anyone hear me?”

It was a local fire department frequency. I hastily punched in the frequency into the Yaesu and keyed the microphone. “Yeah! Hey, Buddy! I hear you? Who are you and where are you?”

“I’m Anthony Green. Firefighter out of Station House Three. Who are you?”

“I’m at the hospital. We’re trying to find out what is happening. How many of you are there?” I intentionally left out my name. Just opsec, you understand.

“Most of the guys are here. None of our equipment works. I’ve been trying to contact someone for hours. Who did you say you were?”

“Look, the hospital needs some help here. We have fuel for a couple of days, but other supplies are running out. And we’d really like to find out what is happening. Do you have contact with the city EOC?”

“No. You’re the first person I have contacted. Our alarms went off yesterday and we’ve been down since then. One of the guys headed for the EOC to act as runner, but we haven’t heard from him. Do you know why the power and radios are down? Our handhelds work for a short distance, but the static overwhelms them if they get more than a few hundred yards apart.”

“HEMP. I think a HEMP device was triggered in the upper atmosphere. You know… High Altitude Electro-Magnetic pulse. Zaps electronic things, like automotive computers and… Too long of a explanation. I have a scanner running. If you get additional information call for the hospital. I’m going to try to contact someone else.”

I un-keyed and entered a new frequency into the Yaesu. The firefighter kept talking, trying to get me to come back, but I ignored him as I worked the Yaesu, ignoring the scanner for the moment.

But someone else finally answered on the fire frequency and I hurriedly tuned back to it on the Yaesu. It was the city EOC. Apparently their colleague had made it to the EOC and the ionized atmosphere was slowly clearing, allowing the higher frequencies to get through.

I started to break into the conversation but held my peace since an explanation was forthcoming from the EOC.

The firefighter explained, in boring detail, all about EMP and HEMP. He finally got around to explaining what the Mayor and her staff had heard through the hardened communications system that linked them to the State facility.

I had been correct, I’m sad to say. About both the HEMP and the fact that the New Madrid Seismic Zone had begun shaking the afternoon previous, apparently in unassociated events.

That was about the only information City had. That and the fact that nukes had not been detected, other than the HEMP. I sighed in relief, but the man’s next words chilled me to the bone. “State says the Military went to a war footing. Nukes could be flying any minute.”

I listened for a few more minutes, but they started exchanging information on how to best operate during the next few hours. At least they were going to send some people to the hospital to lend a hand.

I went to find Helen and fill her in on what I’d learned. I had to wait a while. She was working on yet another patient. A gunshot wound this time. People were starting to lose that thin layer of ‘follow the rules because you’ll get in trouble if you don’t’, exposing the baser emotions that came out when authority wasn’t around to control it.

After finally talking to Helen, I began to wonder around the hospital, trying to determine how the large number of patients could be sheltered, if we did get fallout. There weren’t any places or combination of places to shelter everyone. Not even all of the staff alone, much less the number of patients the hospital was now caring for and the staff.

I knew it wasn’t going to end well, fallout or not. Helen asked me to go on another supply run, for medications this time. Very softly I told her, “We may have to take them by force. I have a feeling a precious commodity like medications is going to be in someone’s hands already that will not willing give them up.”

Helen blanched and bit her lower lip. She shook her head slightly a couple of times and then looked into my eyes. “Can you do it?”

“I can. Can you handle it?” I asked, again very softly.

There were tears in her eyes when she nodded. I turned without another word, afraid she might change her mind. It was an emotional moral predicament. Possibly take a life to save a life. I’d already made the adjustment in my mind. My personal line in the sand was redrawn. I checked my carry piece when I got to the Suburban, and then recovered my rifle and primary pistol from where I had them stashed in the Suburban.

I slipped into my combat vest and belt, slipped the Para-Ordnance P-14 into the holster on the belt and headed off to find the ambulance crew and ambulance. People shied away from me as I made my way through the hospital, eyes large and even more scared than before.

I ignored the looks, found Mick Hastings and Twilla Williams, the two Paramedics that had the ambulance under close watch. I stopped when I came up to them. “They need meds. I intend to see that they get them. You in or out?”

“I’m not a mercenary,” said Mick coldly. “You aren’t taking this ambulance on a murder run to get supplies you probably intend to keep yourself.”

I didn’t like his implication that I was a mercenary. Shouldn’t have bothered me, I suppose, since I don’t really object to the use of true mercenaries in some situations. But I didn’t need to do anything about it.

Twilla looked at Mick for a moment, and then turned to me. “I’m in. Get out of the way, Mick.” She stood with her hands on her hips, staring at Mick. She was half his size, but it was him that backed down.

I climbed into the back of the ambulance and closed the doors before Mick could think of something to do. Twilla wasted no time getting the ambulance started and headed for the parking lot exit. “Where away, Merc?”

I bristled, but again, what could I say? “Closest major pharmacy,” I said, sitting down on the attendant’s seat in the back of the ambulance.

“You got it.”

I sat quietly, gearing my mind up to what might occur in just a few minutes. When Twilla stopped the ambulance I quickly jumped out and went to her window. Pull away, and keep moving if people try to gather around the ambulance. When you see me come out, meet me wherever I head to.”

“Got it. Be careful.”

“Always, I replied, cutting her a quick smile. People were already gathering around. I was a bit surprised that the crowd was as calm as it was. People were going in and out of the Wal-Mart store in rather orderly lines, going in empty handed and coming out with whatever they could carry.

I headed for the door and people gave way. I ignored the mob. It might be calm at the moment, but it was still a mob. People were taking anything and everything, whether it would help surviving in the coming days or not.

When I approached the pharmacy I saw that it was locked down. I knocked on the security shutter and yelled, “I’m here on behalf of City General. We need meds over there. We’re running out.”

“Go away!”

Getting through the security shutter wouldn’t be easy. If I had the Suburban handy it wouldn’t be a problem. But I didn’t.

“Okay. Listen up. I can’t get in unless you open up. But I can fill that place with a hail of bullets you’ll never survive, no matter what you try to hide behind. So make a quick decision.”

“How do we know you have a gun?” came a man’s voice this time.

“You want a demonstration?” I asked.

“No! No! We’ll open up! Please don’t kill us!” It was the woman’s frantic voice.

The door shutter rattled and began to rise. I stood to one side, rifle at the ready until I could duck under quickly. “Shut it! Quickly!” I said, my eyes going over the five people in the pharmacy.

The tall man standing in front of three of the others glared at me. I took it that the woman working the shutter winder was the one that had agreed to open the door. When she was done I motioned her to join her companions.

“Okay, look. I’m being up front here. The hospital needs the meds. I have no intention of selling any or using them myself. We can do this the easy, quick way, or the hard, slow way. You won’t like the hard, slow way.

“What I need is for you to put together everything you think the hospital will need in a situation like this. Lots of traumatic wounds, including gunshots.”

“We’re not going to help you loot this pharmacy!” It was the tall guy.

“I’ll help,” said the woman that had opened the shutter.

“Karen you will not help…” The man stopped talking as my rifle muzzle came up to his chin.

“Very well,” he said quickly. “Just take what you want and leave us alone.”

“My plan exactly. Just think. Me and you thinking just alike.”

Karen, and then the other woman and both other men began to gather up things from the shelves as Tall Guy glared at them and then at me, alternately.

“You know, I said as they worked, “You might want to take everything you can and get out of here. Eventually some druggies are going to come here and clean the place out. If you’re still here, you will die.”

“See, Anson!” Karen said as she placed several containers on the counter. “I told you we’d be better off taking the things ourselves so we could help people later.”

“It’s not right,” insisted Tall Guy Anson. “People should be working together in a situation like this. People are going to need these medications and supplies.”

“That’s my point exactly. Who better than a pharmacist to have and control such an important resource.”

I saw the change in his eyes and lowered the rifle. He looked at me for long moments and then began to help the others, giving instructions on what to gather up. When they had as much as I thought I could carry, I told them, “That’s it. That’s all I can carry.”

“The hospital will need more things,” Anson said. “If you’ll help us get out of here alive, we’ll help you get your share out to your car.”

“It’s a deal. We’ll have to work quickly. Bag everything up. We’ll grab carts after we open the shutters and make a run for it.” I was a bit concerned that Anson would turn on me when we made our move, but it was the best chance to get more medications than I could handle and still use the gun if necessary.

Suddenly there was the sound of fists hammering on the shutter. “Open up in there or I’ll kill you! I want morphine! Give it to me and you’ll live!”

“Okay, Okay,” I said, trying to sound frightened. “Don’t shoot!”

I went down to the floor, the rifle in front of me. “Open the shutter,” I said to Karen.

As soon as the shutter went up a couple of inches I fired on the three sets of ankles in my view. The screaming started, and several more gunshots rang out, holing the shutter, but not hitting any of us inside.

Karen kept cranking as quickly as she could while the others huddled together, crouched down in fear. When the shutter was higher I fired a couple more times at the three that had gone down with destroyed ankles and feet. All three of them had Glock handguns.

Rolling under the shutter I hastily stood, kicked the guns from dying or dead hands, and grabbed a cart that was standing nearby. I have to give Anson credit. Once he decided to help he was good as his word. He was out right behind me and ran to another cart down one of the aisles. He slid to a stop when he saw the shelves and what was in the cart. Someone had already stripped the first-aid supplies.

He hurried back and as I stood watch, began to help the others fill the carts with what they’d gathered up. Several people came running up but quickly reversed their course when they saw me and the dead punks on the floor.

I looked around when Karen touched my arm. She had the Glocks in her hands. “You want these?” she asked.

“No,” I replied. “If you have any experience with guns and don’t have one, you’d be better off keeping it. Check the bodies for magazines.”

As the others continued filling shopping carts one of them was gathering up, Karen gingerly searched the bloody bodies. Her hands were bloody, and she was stark white, but she had a total of seven magazines for the Glocks. All were 9mmP.

“Give one to Anson and whoever else can use one.”

Karen nodded and turned to Anson. She offered out the gun, my eyes on him carefully. He looked over at me, and after a short moment nodded. He took the bloody Glock and two spare magazines and wiped them on his smock. He stuck the gun in his belt behind his back and slipped the magazines into a pocket.

Karen was giving the third Glock to one of the other men. I noticed she kept the seventh magazine for herself, in addition to the other two that went with the gun.

I looked around. They were scared. But they were game. “Let’s go, I said, and led the way. They all followed, pushing one cart and pulling another behind them. No one interfered as I hurried toward the front doors, the rifle up and ready.

We made it to the doors and outside before we had any more trouble. A few people saw what we had and decided they wanted it in the worst way. They got nothing, except a .308 round in the chest when they pulled handguns and told us to stop. It was incredibly stupid on their part. I was right there with the rifle pointing at them when they drew their guns. All went down silently, unlike the screaming the punks had done.

I saw the ambulance headed our way. Twilla was weaving it a bit, trying to avoid people that were trying to get out of her way. She gave no quarter to those that tried to stop her. All but one of them jumped out of the way. He went flying when the left front bumper hit him.

Karen stepped forward and opened the ambulance’s rear doors and began transferring the bags of medications and other supplies. A couple more began helping while Mike and the other armed man stood watch over the five carts they were going to be keeping.

With the first five cart loads in the ambulance, Karen turned to the sixth cart. “I’m going with them,” she said and began transferring more supplies. Both of the other women did the same thing after a moment.

“I’ll help you get to your vehicles,” I told Anson and the other man.

“I’d rather go with you, too,” said the armed man.

Anson was a bit more than surprised. “What the hey! I’m in. I doubt if I could get this home by myself, anyway.” He pushed the cart forward and the others emptied it into the ambulance. It was a tight fight, but all the pharmacy employees scrambled into the back and I went to the passenger door.

A large group was looking on, but no one tried to stop us as I set the rifle down on the floorboard between my legs and pulled my pistol. I had my hand out of the window, ready to shoot anyone that did try to stop us.

It was an easy trip the rest of the way. Helen was ecstatic when she saw the supplies and quickly welcomed the lead pharmacist and the others. She thanked them for their help and told them where they could find something to drink and eat for the moment. I noticed that one of them must have picked up the guns from the group that attacked us in front of the Wal-Mart. The group was sharing them out, comparing guns and ammunition to make sure everyone had the right ammo for their weapon of choice.

Helen’s pharmacy staff took charge of the supplies and I headed up to the Suburban to lose the vest, belt, pistol, and rifle. I was comfortable with just my hideout gun in the hospital. Unwilling to use the hospital supplies, I took out a bottle of water from the Suburban and cleaned up a little before I went back down to join Helen.

But she was back in surgery. I found another quiet place and sat down to rest and let the tension flow. It had been a long time since I’d been in the service and had cause to kill someone. I still didn’t like the feeling.

I made sure Helen found something to eat after the surgery. Someone had been doing similar to me and had procured some additional food for the hospital. I hope they had an easier time getting the food than I had getting the fuel and medications. I still couldn’t bring myself to use the hospital supplies, so was back at the Suburban, munching another Millennium bar and some gorp before taking a nap when I saw a bright meteor streak across the sky. Then another and another.

I have to admit it took me much longer than it should have to realize that what I was seeing wasn’t meteors turning into meteorites. They were missile warheads and decoys. We were getting nuked again. And at least one was going to be in the region.

I looked away, in case there were any air-bursts that could blind me even at the distances it looked like the objects were headed. But there were more of the streaks of light. Tumbling out of the Suburban, I slid under it, put my head on my hands and waited with eyes closed.

It wasn’t as bad as I feared. Neither of the two active devices were within direct line of sight, though a couple of the decoys landed a lot closer. But I didn’t find that out until much later. After the rumbling noises stopped, and the garage quit swaying, I ran down into the hospital, again looking for Helen. I found her reassuring patients that everything was okay.

She saw the look on my face and paled. “It’s another earthquake, isn’t it?”

I shook my head and mouthed the word, “No.”

Helen hung her head, but then suddenly raised it and went back to talking to the line of patients in their beds on each side of the hallway. I figured she would go a little nuts if I tried to drag her away right now. So instead of making things worse, I headed back up to the Suburban. What was I going to do? Helen might insist on staying until the very end. I was prepared to force her to go with me to my shelter when the fallout started, but I was just as sure that I could do it, that it would mean there would never be anything else between us, if we did survive.

I wracked my brain for a solution until I saw the approaching cloud. There might be some rain in it, but it was definitely going to have radioactive fallout. I had to make a decision right now. Leave her to her fate, or take a hand in it and probably lose her in the end.

I took the time to pull a on a Tyvek hooded and footed coverall and add a respirator, letting it hang down around my neck. After checking a dosimeter for zero, I clipped it onto the coverall.

I put on over boots and gloves before I put on the combat vest and grabbed the rifle again. I went down into the hospital, fully intending to drag Helen kicking and screaming up to the Suburban and take her home to my shelter.

People looked at me in fear as I hunted for Helen. The shaking had been felt in the hospital. Many tried to convince themselves it was more earthquake activity. Seeing me, I think they finally admitted the truth to themselves.

I don’t really think I was responsible for the panic, but I’m sure my appearance didn’t help reduce it any. If you’ve ever seen any of the old BEM movies… That’s Bug Eyed Monster movies from the 1950’s and 1960’s, and a few since then, then you know how they show people running every which way. I always thought everyone would be running the same way. Away. But when the panic started, and people decided they had to do something right now, it was just such a mob scene.

People were running to everywhere from everywhere as the panic spread. Fallout was coming. Those with some inkling of what that meant tried to force their way into the basement of the hospital. Some made it, but soon it was beyond full and fights started. They were already backed up out of the stairwells, fighting, when I found Helen.

She was scared, but she was calm. She had several of the other doctors and some of the nurses around her. They were discussing something when I came up. When they saw me they started, but didn’t break and run.

“What do we do, Jeremy?”

“You follow your conscience,” I said. “Millions of people are dying right now and millions more will die.” I wanted to tell her to just up and leave with me, but that wasn’t going to happen.

“Say whatever you want, tough guy,” said one of the younger doctors. “We have to stay and help, no matter what the cost. It is our sworn duty.”

“I don’t think Hippocrates had nuclear war in mind when he wrote the oath,” said another. “I’m out of here.” He turned and strode off. He was running within a few steps. Several more broke and ran, doctors and nurses both.

“I can’t leave these critical patients behind,” Helen said, head down.

“I’ll take care of them,” said the first doctor. “You run and hide with your coward lover.”

I shouldn’t have, but he’d insulted Helen much more than he’d insulted me. I threw a long, straight punch and he went backwards, blood squirting from his nose.

“I’ll sue you penniless!” he screamed. But he didn’t purse the attack. Instead he turned and ran, too.

“What do I do?” Helen asked. There were still a couple of people standing, watching. I recognized Twilla the paramedic and Nancy the pharmacist. One male nurse, a male doctor, a female doctor, and a female nurse were there, too. Waiting . On me apparently.

“It’s not right to leave the hopeless to their fate,” I said softly. “Give the ones that have any chance, a chance to find shelter. Those with no hope… I think most will understand.”

“I can’t, Jeremy! I just can’t!”

I looked over at Nancy. “What do I need?”

“I’ll get it,” she said and hurried away.

Helen was staring at me and I was sure I’d lost her. She continued to stare at me as Nancy handed me a handful of syrettes and explained how to inject the drug into an IV. I couldn’t look at Helen when I headed down the hallway resolutely.

I looked over when the male doctor came up beside me. “I can’t either,” he said, “But I can tell you who has a chance and who doesn’t.”

“Thank you,” I said. And I meant it. I didn’t want to euthanize anyone that had a real chance at survival. Not that it would be that real, considering the circumstances… But it made me feel better, anyway.

Only one of the bedridden patients protested when I explained I was there to give them a painless way out. She objected and began to pray. I couldn’t do it. She had her way of dealing with things. Who was I to insist? The others that were cognizant of what was happening gave me the okay in some way. A nod, a word, a blink of the eye. The rest were unconscious. Those were the hard ones. No way I could explain what I was doing and why.

When I came back I was glad to see Helen, Twilla, the male nurse Glen something, and the female doctor Braggadon working with the other patients that needed medication or some type of care. They handed out the meds and gave instruction how to take them and what to do about their ailment.

When we gathered again I couldn’t look at Helen, fearing the look that would be in her eyes. Ignoring her presence the best I could, I instructed the others to gather everything they thought would be useful in the aftermath and take it to the ambulance. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Helen hesitate, but then turn and hurry off with the others.

A few minutes later I parked the Suburban in front of the ambulance and set one foot on the ground after I opened the driver’s door.

“You ready?” I asked the group standing near the ambulance.

They looked around at one another but no one said anything. So I did. “Three of you with me, the rest with Twilla in the ambulance. I couldn’t ask Helen to join me. She was just one of the group now. I had no rights toward her anymore.

But she joined the other doctors at the Suburban. We were getting some attention now, people beginning to realize we had operating vehicles. “Hurry!” I yelled. “Follow me!”

Doors slammed and I put the Suburban in reverse. A couple of people had to jump out of the way. But my keychain alarm was sounding and I was not going to waste any time.

“What is that sound?” asked the male doctor. I finally took in the nametag on his smock. Raymyer.

“It’s a radiation alarm. The fallout is here.” And it was now visible on the windshield as I drove as quickly as the ambulance could keep up. The number of chirps stopped as we neared my house. But by the time the ambulance was unloaded and everything stacked around the Suburban in the garage, it began to chirp again.

“Okay. Follow me,” I said, after closing and locking the security shutter. Deciding it would be better for all concerned, I brushed everyone down, and then had the men go to the hall bath to strip and shower. The women I sent to my bedroom suite to do the same thing after I got a double handful of my clothes for the men to put on. The women would have free choice of everything else.

They didn’t waste any time. The alarm had fallen silent when we entered the house, but it chirped once and fell silent again shortly after Dr. Raymyer and Helen came out of the rooms, showered and in clean clothing. That sort of fit. Better than being naked, for sure.

Barely looking at Helen out of the corners of my eyes, I started emptying the fridge and handing things out to be taken to the basement. As individuals came out, I handed off more things, starting on the pantry.

By the time everyone was in the basement, the kitchen was cleaned out and I closed and locked the basement access door to the house. I slid over the cabinet that hid the main door to the shelter and ushered everyone into the short hallway. “Light switch on the left,” I said. Dr. Raymyer managed to flick the switch despite the load in his arms. I heard a slight whistle from him as he got his first look at the shelter.

The others gave similar comments. Everything was set on the kitchen area counter and the kitchen table. Everyone turned when the thunk of the heavy door closing sounded. White faces and wide eyes looked at me.

“You’re safe here with me,” I said.

“Do you have enough supplies?” asked Karen. She seemed the most at ease with the situation.

“Yes. I’m sure I do. Despite more people than I planned on, the supplies will still last for a year if we’re careful.”

“We can’t stay down here for a year!” exclaimed Glen. Deja, the female nurse uttered much the same thing.

“I don’t think we will have to be here anywhere near that long. Once I get solid readings on the radiation I can calculate the time we’ll have to stay sheltered. But it is already late spring. The chances of getting any crops to grow before next year are minimal. And we might not be able to come up with much fresh meat, either. Not here in the suburbs. We’ll be on our own for some time.”

“But the new Civil Defense…” said Glen, hesitatingly.

“Is in name only. There was never a chance to do anything about it. The entire governmental structure of the US was in a turmoil when this happened. I have doubts it will ever recover. At least not in the same form as it was.”

“The military?” asked Twilla.

“Possible. But not likely. They are all home now, but mostly mustered out. And I suspect many of them will be taking care of their families the best they can. Some of them could even be a threat if they turn rogue.”

There was silence for a moment. For something to do, I began to show everyone the attributes of the shelter and how to operate the systems. Twilla volunteered to keep an eye on the remote reading survey meter for the time of the peak radiation. I began making up the bunks in the two bunk rooms. They were set up for four people each. Plus I had one small bedroom and one larger with its own bath. Two other baths served the bunkrooms and the small bedroom.

I froze when I felt a hand touch my back and Helen’s low voice sounded behind me. “Thank you, Jeremy. You did what I couldn’t but should have.”

I turned around and she was in my arms, bawling her eyes out. I held her for a while, and then let her slip away when she indicated she wanted to. Our eyes met for the first time since I’d euthanatized the hopeless patients.

All I saw was kindness. No accusation. Just acceptance. I wiped the tears from my eyes and nodded. She began helping me with the bed making.

Copyright 2010

[Jerry D Young]

Visions of 2012 - Chapter 2

The shelter stay, I must say, was interesting. It wasn’t as grim as I feared, nor as uneventful as I hoped. But, perhaps because all the others were medical personnel of one sort or another, everyone helped everyone else get over each one’s problem time. I was the only one that didn’t suffer from the fears of what would come next.

Three months passed and I suited up to go outside to check around. Everyone wanted to go, but the radiation was still just a bit too high to justify more than just one of us. Though they’d all seen me dressed the way I did to go out, including my combat gear, they stared.

I gave a password that I insisted I must say to get back inside. Anything other than it and there was trouble outside and they were to stay locked down for another two weeks. They didn’t like it, but I really did insist.

When I went out, slowly and cautiously, I found it a cold, but bright and sunny day. I used the survey meter I had with me and found that there was very little radiation left on or around the house, but quite a bit in the streets. We’d had rain and with the way I had the house designed, it washed the fallout from my house and to the street.

There was still some fallout on the grass, and on all my neighbor’s lots, but in just a little while, with some light decontamination, we’d be able to occupy the whole house during the day, if we continued to sleep in the shelter.

I neither saw nor heard a single soul while I was out. The three houses across from me were empty, looking like they’d been ransacked. But it was a bit too methodical. I suspected the families took off. The one car between them that I thought might run after a HEMP was gone.

Behind me, across the alley, the three houses looked much the same. But as I looked closer, I was sure that street had been looted. No bodies, though. On my north side the house was still locked up tight. I didn’t want to break and enter, just in case there was someone still under shelter. No one in the neighborhood knew I had one. No reason for me to think that none of my neighbors would have one.

The house on the south had burned to the ground. I was glad I didn’t know the fire had started. I most probably would have come out of the shelter to try and prevent it from spreading to my house.

But again the type of construction I’d used made the house relatively fire resistant. So there’d been no damage. Since that house was on the corner, no other house had been in much danger, since it was obvious that the wind had not been blowing at the time.

The others were, to put it mildly, ecstatic at the news that everything just outside was okay, but wondered about other people.

While I’d been listening on the Amateur and Shortwave bands since shortly after taking shelter, I’d yet to make contact with anyone. I only had one broadband antenna deployed, plus a discone for one of the scanners, so I couldn’t pinpoint any signal and try to punch through the noise that was still present to a small degree.

But we did hear other survivors on the air. I just couldn’t talk back to them yet. Correcting that would be a priority once we could start working outside. The day finally came, and I put together and installed a Titanex DLP-22 wire log periodic 3.5MHz to 30MHz beam on the US Tower 55’ freestanding tower after I lowered it and laid it over.

We cranked it back up, connected the wires to the rotor and the antenna cable to the beam and radio and we were back in business. Those stations I had been hearing on the Titanex GB 160/10 ground mount vertical came in much louder now. And they heard me when I fired up the Yaesu FT-2000 Amateur Radio Transceiver and the Command Technologies HF-2500e 3.5 kilowatt amplifier. Totally illegal setup in the past, but I didn’t think the FCC would be handing out fines any time soon.

I keyed up and took a moment to match the antenna perfectly to the radio with the Palstar AT5K 3.5KW antenna matcher. When I keyed up and broke into the conversation I was hearing I received an acknowledgment.

“Been hearing you for some time,” I said. “Just now got a rig up that would get back to you. Mind saying where you are?”

“Outside of Nashville,” came the reply. “You?”

“Between Joplin and St. Louis in Missouri off I-44.”

We began to exchange information as to what had happened. It was more a receipt of information as I didn’t really have any to give. From what ‘Fred’ said, there had been a full scale attack on the US using nuclear weapons and General Hershing had responded in kind.

There were survivors of the actual attack, but many were dying off for lack of food and clean water with the infrastructure of the US a total shambles. There might be a few small towns with working power system to power water and sewer systems, but there couldn’t be many of them.

After a few minutes I signed off with Fred as I didn’t want to be on too long. I turned to look at the others. There were stricken faces all around.

“I thought… I thought… since we did so well here…” Nancy said, but her words faded away.

“Thought that other people would fare just as well. I’m sure many did. I’m not the only prepper around. Plus there are areas with little fallout that should have viable populations. I want to do an excursion and see who survived locally and what the general situation is. Need a couple to go with me. That will go armed and be willing to use them in case of trouble.”

“Not more killing!” said Dr. Raymyer.

“Not unless it is absolutely necessary. And we’ll take a few supplies in case we find some friendlies willing to work with us on the recovery.”

“Recovery?” Helen asked.

We’d become close during the shelter stay, but not intimate. I think she was beginning to understand the way things might be in the Post Apocalyptic World. In the PAW. But she didn’t understand completely. Not yet.

“Yes. Civilization… Society… Whatever you want to call it will come back. It is simple human nature to seek order. There will be those that want to just take what they want, kill and rape, destroy anything they don’t want. It’s up to those of us that want order and safety to act so the rebuilding can start. It is my intention to be part of that rebuilding.

“In order to do it, there will be weaker people, less skilled and able to protect themselves that will need to be sheltered and helped until they can take adequate care of themselves. That is part of what I will be doing.

“That isn’t to say all of you or any of you have to help me. I’m willing to outfit you with equipment and supplies to last at least a month if you want to venture out on your own. I think your best chance to survive is to stay here. At least for the foreseeable future.

“All of you are medical professionals. You’ll be needed more, now than ever, since I doubt very few of your profession survived, as the vast majority were in target areas and had no preparations if they weren’t killed in the first go round.”

Not surprisingly to me, Karen was the first to step over by my side, followed by Twilla. The others were looking around, except for Helen. She was looking at me. After a short pause she stepped over to stand with Twilla and Karen.

A few seconds later Dr. Braggadon and Nurse Deja joined them, Deja saying, “I don’t want to be out there alone. I’m for staying and helping where we can. But doing it safely. And I have no intention of becoming a target for a raging band of animals out to have their way with me.”

The five women and I looked over at Joe Raymyer and Glen Vestin. “I’ve always been something of a loner,” Glen said. He looked toward the door of the shelter silently for a long time. When he turned back to us he said, “I’m in. For now. I’d like to reserve the right to take you up on your offer to outfit me and provision me, if I decide to leave.”

“You have it,” I replied.

All eyes turned to Dr. Raymyer. “Against my better judgment, I’ll stay. I feel like I should be out there helping people already. I’ll do what is necessary.”

“That is good, then,” I said.

For the next three days we cleaned up around the seven intact houses surrounding mine. Glen and I buried Stanley Dugan and his wife and child in the cemetery on the edge of town. I didn’t have any trouble starting the cemetery’s backhoe, so it was relatively easy.

They’d sheltered in their basement in the house north of me, but between radiation and lack of water, none of them made it. I like to think, that had I known, I would have brought them into the shelter with us at the very start.

Everyone found suitable clothing among that left behind. On the fourth day out, I had Twilla and Glen armed with Thompson Center .30 M1 Carbines. Each had a vest to carry ammunition and the other articles needed for a possibly dangerous patrol.

We took the ambulance, as I didn’t want to risk the Suburban just yet. I rode up front with Twilla and Glen crouched down in back, watching between us. Without asking me, Twilla turned toward the hospital. I didn’t try to stop her.

There were dead everywhere. Dead from a variety of reasons, including extreme violence. I found empty pistol, revolver, rifle, and shotgun casings here and there. I asked Twilla and Glen to stay outside while I checked inside. Neither protested.

It was much the same inside. I had brought my respirator and pulled it up to cover my face. Even after almost four months there were still putrid remains giving off sickening aromas. I checked the basement. I could only stand to look at it for a moment. Something terrible had happened down there. There’d been a fire of some kind and it had spread. Dozens of people died hard deaths.

I simply took off the respirator when I went back outside and shook my head. “Let’s go.”

We checked here and there, but found no more people anywhere near the hospital. But I saw signs of life occasionally, pointing them out to Twilla and Glen. At one point, a child didn’t move as fast as the rest and I had Twilla stop.

I got out and immediately slung my rifle on my right shoulder and held out my hands. “We’re looking for survivors. We don’t have much, but we can help. My friends are medical personnel and we have doctors in our group. Is there anyone that needs medical attention?”

Slowly half a dozen adults stepped out into sight, with as many children hiding behind the adults’ legs.

“You’re not going to hurt us?” asked what I assumed to be the leader of the group. “There are some going around taking things. Hurting people that don’t just give them food and water. They have guns, too.”

“I see. Well, you don’t have to worry about us harming you. We do just want to help. Any injuries or illness? Do you need food? Water?”

“Food! Please,” asked one of the women.

“And water, too,” cried another.

I let Twilla and Glen do their thing. I’d put what I thought might be needed in the ambulance before we left. I didn’t mention it when Glen and Twilla both left their carbines in the ambulance. I stood watch while Glen and Twilla handed out small packets of food and bottled water and then began to tend to the cuts and scrapes the survivors had incurred. I pointed out one of the men to Glen and he went over.

When he came back over to me he said, “I think he’s got severe radiation poisoning. He said he did much of the gathering shortly after the fallout stopped falling.”

“We can only do what we can. We won’t save all, but we will save who we can. Do what you can to treat the symptoms and ease his pain and suffering as much as you can.”

We made five more similar stops that day before we got back to my place about sundown. The others were waiting impatiently for us, worried about what might have happened. I’d decided not to use radios on our trips for a while, to avoid the possibility of someone tracking us down by the signals.

Hoping I was right, when Helen asked about getting a clinic set up at the hospital, I replied, “I think there will be a couple better places.” After another moment, as Helen looked at me I added, “I don’t think we can salvage much at the hospital. We’ll definitely check on all the other medical facilities around.”

She nodded and turned to hear Twilla’s and Glen’s recount of what had transpired during the trip. Trusting them enough to lock up for the night I went down to the shelter, showered, and went to bed. I didn’t get to sleep for a long time.

Slowly, over the next three weeks, we gathered survivors. A park about a mile away bordered a gated community. The park had a small lake. We moved everyone we found to that community, several families grouping together to share the houses and share the workload. The three families that survived, after the initial resistance, welcomed our appearance. They were down to very little to eat and drink and were hiding out because there’d been a couple of armed men roaming the area and looting the houses. All the bodies were buried in the cemetery near the first ones we put there.

Of the people found, enough had weapons and ammunition to arm a few other people to stand guard at the gatehouse, and to patrol the rear of the area to prevent any attacks on the slowly growing enclave.

Outhouses were dug. A sand and charcoal water filter was constructed to filter the lake water for drinking and cooking. The development was fairly upscale, and most of the houses had working fireplaces, which was why I picked that place to gather the people.

Teams were put together to clear out the deadwood in the ravines behind the development. I asked them not to cut any live trees. That wood might be needed later. It was a bitter cold day when I left the enclave and went back to the house. I had a decision to make. Fortunately I was alone to make it.

All the others, including Helen, had moved to the enclave in order to help, and at my insistence, since it would be safer there than here at my place if serious trouble developed.

While some people cut wood, we’d rounded up a couple more operating vehicles besides the ambulance and my Suburban and began stripping every house, store, and place of business that might have any food. Everything was taken to the enclave and locked away for distribution by the council that had quickly formed.

The next spring was going to be critical. There should be enough food to last the winter and into spring. We’d start planting then, and go as far afield as we needed to in order to find stock we could bring back and begin to raise for fresh meat.

I had additional food stored. Did I share it now or wait to see who made it through the winter with what they already had? I’d make sure no one starved, but many of the survivors were weak. Some had serious cases of radiation sickness, and with the close quarters any infectious illness could run rampant, even with the medical staff right there.

If everyone ate as well as with what I could provide, there wouldn’t be much, if any, left to fill in the gaps between planting and harvesting. Much less have enough left to trade for things I might need. It would be especially bad if we couldn’t get stock early on next spring.

I simply couldn’t decide at the moment. I would have to wait until a situation arose that forced the decision on me. I’d make it then. Though I knew it was risky, as winter settled in, I began to salvage far and wide for additional food, as well as other consumables. Most went directly to the enclave. But I did keep some items for myself. Both to use and to put back for future use or trade.

I didn’t stop there. I had the means to enter very secure establishments. Such as banks, coin shop vaults, gun shop vaults, and the like. I pretty much left the banks alone. But I considered coin shops and gun shops fair game for salvage operations.

Working by myself, trying to see every direction at once, I opened up vaults all over the city during the bitter winter days, stockpiling what I took. The precious metals were easy. They didn’t take up much space. Most went into one of my gun safes in the shelter. The rest were stored in other safes I acquired and installed in the house north of me, along with most of the guns and ammunition I found.

But I didn’t limit myself to PMs, guns, ammunition, and consumables. I went for hardware, too. Mostly solar power and greenhouse equipment, but a fairly wide range of other goods, too. They all went to the enclave, in the yards of houses that weren’t being used. What I couldn’t handle with the Suburban and a tandem axle flatbed trailer I noted the position on a map for future recovery when I had active help from the enclave.

I had to simply lock down tight after January rolled around. It was just too cold and windy, with three feet of snow accumulated, to risk travel. I stayed in radio contact with the enclave, keeping the conversations short so I couldn’t be located by someone homing in on my radio signal. It was unlikely anyone would be out and about, but I wasn’t taking any chances.

I missed Helen’s presence terribly. Although we’d become close during the shelter stay, her commitment to being a doctor outweighed a personal relationship. At least for the moment. I hoped.

I survived, by keeping myself busy with making plans for the spring and summer. Much of it would depend on what the people in the enclave were willing to do. I was prepared to help as much as I could, but they would have to contribute to the effort. Unfortunately the numbers of survivors in the enclave were shrinking slowly.

The fallout was taking its delayed toll, and despite the medications we’d gathered up beforehand, plus what I salvaged during my trips in the early winter, half a dozen people had succumbed to illnesses. Some predating the attack, others simply weakened bodies that couldn’t shake off even what would ordinarily be minor infections.

I could hear the stress in her voice, but I had no words that would soothe her. It was the way it was going to be for some time.

The weather broke in late March, but it was another two weeks before the snow accumulation had melted enough for me to be able to travel reliably and safely. My first order of business was to get the backhoe at the cemetery running again and bury the dead from the enclave. They were stacked like cordwood in a metal outbuilding so they would stay frozen and to protect them from feral animals.

That task finished, the next thing I insisted the enclave do was begin to prepare all the open space in the community for planting. One of my early trips the previous fall had been to gather the tools for gardening. They were handed out, roto-tillers were serviced and filled with the stabilized fuel I’d brought in, and the process started.

Another group, led by one of the more mechanically experienced men, began to assemble the greenhouses on the open area nearest the houses being used so they could be tended during the winter, if we were able to get the power system designed and put in that would provide heat and grow lights for them.

Another group went with me, after we got some semi-trucks running and found stock trailers, and we looked for any surviving livestock. It was slim pickings until we were well out of town. Mostly what we found were lots of dead carcasses. And several dead farmers.

We did find stock, but it wasn’t ours for the taking. A group of close knit farm families had prepared well for the events that took place and had stock for sale. Fortunately they would take gold. They wanted fuel, until they could grow oil crops and make biodiesel, but that wasn’t going to happen. My own stocks were down to two-thirds and I’d be looking for more fuel as soon as we got the stock situated.

I broke out the coins I’d salvaged and started counting. Another few coins got us plenty of hay and feed for the immediate future. I added a few more and got assurances that when the weather was a bit better, a crew would be in to build barns and processing sheds so we could handle the stock.

We headed back to the enclave with three truck loads of animals. A bull and six milk cows, each with a calf that could butchered soon. Three more breed cows for beef cattle, also with calves. Two boars, thirteen sows, and twenty piglets. Four roosters and sixty hens.

They were all turned into one of the lots in the development that had a good fence all the way around it. The farmers brought their own trucks with the hay, straw, and feed, with the equipment to unload it.

During the next week we gutted the house and turned it into a temporary barn for the animals. Then we went looking for fuel. We got as lucky as a storybook tale. The same truck stop that I’d gone to in order to get a single load of diesel was still intact, their underground tanks almost full.

In my earlier runs I’d made a point to hunt up and salvage all the Pri-D and Pri-G fuel treatments I could find in the city. As long as it was good, our fuel problems weren’t too significant. We rigged up a generator and pump, filled all the trailers we could round up, and moved the fuel to the enclave, with one trailer of diesel and one of gasoline parked on the lot where the house had burned just south of me.

Things were going so well I began looking over my shoulder often, expecting the worst. Well, it found us. I don’t know how any of the group survived the attack and severe winter, and didn’t get a chance to ask any of them. They attacked the enclave gate at three in the morning, killing the woman on duty.

But she had a chance to radio what was happening. I slept with a radio by the bed and though I didn’t hear her call, I did hear the frantic calls to me to please help. I had no real expectation of getting there in time to do anything useful, but the people in the enclave were gamer than I gave them credit for.

When I came easing in, lights off, up behind the group stalled at the first two houses in the enclave, I saw firing from the yards and houses of the next two lots. In short order I had my rifle out and joined the battle.

I had to be very careful to not hit any of our own people, and, likewise, not get hit by them. I caught the intruders cold and had four down before any of them knew I was even around.

It was over quickly after that. The last three of the group threw down their guns and raised their hands. I was headed toward them, carefully, when three shots rang out and down they went.

I couldn’t see where the shots came from, and no one would admit to having done it. But it solved a problem I’d been worrying over for some time. What to do with criminals if we caught them. I wouldn’t have shot them like that, but I’m of a mind that the death penalty is going to be a big deterrent when it becomes common knowledge that there would be no quarter given if the enclave was attacked. Other crimes… Well, time would tell on those.

Keeping a cautious eye out, I went along with Helen, checking the fallen attackers while Dr. Braggadon and Dr. Raymyer tended to the wounded on our side. None of the attackers had survived. But we lost two killed and two with serious wounds. Two others had minor wounds.

It was not a good trade off. Especially when one of the seriously wounded didn’t make it despite the surgery to tie off a nicked artery. I stayed around the rest of the morning, doing the preparation of the bodies of the attackers for burial. I also divvied up the spoils of war, keeping the arms, ammunition, and other gear I wanted, turning over the rest to the community council. There was a small amount of silver coinage, and a smaller amount of gold. Just to make clear my position on things I kept half of the coins and gave the other half to the council for future use.

The council stepped up the security, but it was closing the barn door after the horse got away. Perhaps it did keep something similar from happening, or maybe it was the new Boot Hill section of the cemetery I started with the dead attackers.

As spring progressed into summer, the enclave sponsored more salvage and mining runs to gain more items to help them make it through the next winter, improve security, and generally make life easier.

As the enclave became more and more independent, they needed my services and help less and less. Though I’d contributed some additional food during the hard winter, I had not needed to make the decision about just giving my trade goods away, or hanging onto them for profitable trades when things were more under control.

Since the attack on the enclave I had worried more about my own security situation. I hired some of the physically most capable, rounded up the equipment I wanted, and began to turn the three streets and two alleys into a more defensible area, that could also provide for a large garden for me.

The burned out house was torn down, the basement cleaned out and roofed over for storage. Everything else of any possible use was set aside. And then we started on the other houses around me. I left the house just to the north of me, but took out all the other houses on my block, and a block north.

Then two rows of houses a street over east and four rows west in adjacent blocks. That left me with a huge open area, two blocks long north to south, and four blocks wide east to west. The work left paved streets all around the perimeter, plus the streets and alleys inside the perimeter.

I gutted several of the houses left around the perimeter, for the same reason we did the ones at the enclave. They would be barns if I decided on raising some stock myself. The rest I left intact. None were built the way mine was, with bullet and fire resistant techniques. If someone took position inside one of the houses and tried to snipe at the house, I had a Barrett M-82A1 .50 BMG rifle in my fortified cupola on top of the house that would make short work of the sniper.

I did use some of the salvaged material to connect the outer ring of homes with a solid fence. That eight block cleared and fenced area with the two houses left in it gave me all the room I wanted for security, to garden, and to raise a bit of stock.

I was generous with my gold and silver, if I do say so myself. It soon became circulating money, replacing much of the direct barter and trading that had gone on initially. Since I needed quite a bit of labor help to do the things I wanted for myself, I set myself up as banker, giving loans secured by labor agreements. People could get enough money to get what they needed, when they needed it, and I would get paid back with either the money or labor, depending on what the borrower wanted.

Things were looking pretty good, going into the winter of 2013-2014. The enclave was running smoothly, the greenhouses and gardens were producing, and three people with experience were butchering and processing fresh meat as needed. Security was active and there had been no more attacks.

One problem cropped up however. Over population. The enclave was so successful that more people wanted in than the place could hold. The houses that didn’t have fire places had been razed or gutted. There simply wasn’t room for any more people.

That’s when I began to offer a few select people the chance to move into the houses around my own little enclave. I’d salvaged plenty of wood and/or coal heating and cooking stoves and the material to install them, so the houses could be occupied once the stoves and outhouses were installed.

Water would have to be transported from my well, but I had that covered, too. Each house had a tank installed, including insulation, in the garage. I made a water buffalo tank trailer equipped with a battery powered pump and a whole rack of solar panels. It was used to transfer water to the home tanks.

One of the first people I asked to move over was Helen. She was hesitant, but finally agreed to share a house with Twilla, Nancy, and Deja. At least she was much closer now. I still had hopes of having a long term relationship with Helen, but she was still showing reluctance, due, not to me, she said, but the situation.

As I siphoned off people from the enclave, I was able to get a lot more done before winter set in than I could have alone. The enclave had no problem getting additional eager residents. And they needed to be eager.

It was pretty much you work or you didn’t eat. Of course, with a bit of help from others of like mind, I made sure that there was work for just about anyone that was willing, no matter what their physical condition. There weren’t many in that boat as the nuclear attack and severe winter had taken most of those that couldn’t take care of themselves fairly well.

September started off cool and I was pretty sure that the winter would be another bad one. With a dozen semi trucks now running, a group of us took them, with a pair of dump trailer each, to the rail head on the far side of town.

We went heavily armed, but there was no trouble as we loaded up the twenty-four trailers with coal from a coal train that had shut down just on the edge of town. The coal would reduce the need for wood significantly. The next summer I planned a comprehensive wood cutting expedition to the National Forest nearby, but in the mean time the coal would get us through.

I’d had a quirky feeling on the way back from the coal train, constantly thinking we were being watched. With winter coming on fast and hard, if we were going to be raided for supplies, it would be soon.

At my insistence the enclave upped security. We did at my place, too. But I was more concerned about the enclave. We had what we needed, but they had a great deal more than we did.

I should have thought it through more thoroughly. Though we had less, we were obviously, if observed for a while, much less secure than the enclave. Yes, we had the perimeter fence, and we kept an eye out, but I simply didn’t think we were much of a target, compared to the enclave.

I was wrong. And very lucky. The people were desperate, but with few real combat skills. When they ran a semi truck through the fence at the north end of the property the afternoon of October First, with a chill wind blowing and flakes of snow flying, the alarms sounded and everyone reacted as they’d been taught. Take cover and observe, then pick your targets, if necessary.

I was just going into the house, with Helen, to discuss medical needs for the coming winter when the alarms sounded. “Stay right here!” I said to Helen and then headed for the cupola of the house. I would have a complete field of view from up there, and could respond as necessary, giving orders over the FRS radios most everyone kept on their belts.

The limited training I’d given wasn’t the best, but everyone followed it and were already shooting back as more than thirty people swarmed through the hole in the wall the semi had made.

Had the attackers taken on the perimeter houses one by one, and held hostages, they might very well have been successful. But a charging attack across the open ground was essentially suicide.

I joined the fray, the Barrett stock snugged up against my shoulder, as I fired out the first magazine. I concentrated on the group that was still behind the wall, firing over or through the gaps in the fence. What they thought to be cover was simply concealment for the .50 BMG rounds.

I could see their guns flash and would put a .50 BMG round right on to it. Those outside the wall finally withdrew after my second magazine of ten rounds took their deadly toll. The rest of my group were doing well for themselves. I saw attackers dropping right and left, but couldn’t see any of my own people. They were taking cover, or at least concealment. And those that used concealment moved after every other shot so they couldn’t be pinned down the way I was doing with the Barrett.

It seemed to last forever, but finally the shooting slowed and then stopped. I headed downstairs and grabbed my combat vest and rifle and headed to start checking things at short range. I wanted to hog tie Helen. She was already going out to check on the wounded when I went out the front door of the house.

“You stay right behind me,” I growled, grabbing her arm and pulling her around behind me. She yanked her arm free, more than a little annoyed, I could tell. But she was still behind me when the round from one of the not quite dead yet attackers caught me full in the center of the chest and I went down.

I assume I went down, because I doubt I could have continued to stand. But I was out of it and couldn’t vouch for anything that happened the next few hours. I came to in my bed in the house, with Helen leaning over me.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, running a hand over my forehead and down my cheek.

I sort of analyzed things and let out a heartfelt “Ow!” Why was my head hurting more than my chest?

Helen smiled. “Don’t worry. You’ll be okay. A loaded magazine caught the bullet. It didn’t penetrate but the surface skin layer.”

“I’ve got a killer headache. How… Why…”

“When you fell you banged the back of your head on the pavement. That’s what put you out and why you have the headache. Fortunately there are no signs of concussion. Your hard head…”

I saw the tears form in Helen’s eyes. “Why are you crying?”

“Your hard head… Mine has been even harder. I’ve been pushing you away when I should have been welcoming you. I only realized how I truly felt about you when you went down. Went down saving my life, no less. I love you, Jeremy.”

I reached up, ignoring the pain in my head and pulled her down for a kiss. I guess there really is a silver lining in some clouds. It took me almost dying for Helen to come to understand her feelings for me. It was worth getting shot, for that reason alone. Though I don’t really recommend it.

It was a couple of days before I found out what happened after I took the round. Seven people from the attacking force survived, four of them with minor injuries. They were sent packing, minus their weapons, but with a week’s worth of rations. Though it was never said, I suspect Helen had a large hand in that situation.

We hadn’t lost anyone, and only two people, besides me, were wounded. Both minor wounds. And much to my surprise and pride, I found out that the enclave had sent a security team over when they heard the shooting coming from my compound. It was over when they arrived, but they had come, armed for bear, to help in any way they could. It kind of made me proud, I must say.


Helen and I got married a couple weeks later, by a preacher that had taken up residence at the enclave and started a church.

We lost several people the winter of 2013-2014, but that was the last of the super severe ones. Since then things have gone back to a more normal seasonal change.

Helen and I have three children, all healthy and normal in every way. It had been one of Helen’s fears that mutations would develop. She wasn’t wrong. There were a few over the years, all born to parents that had received much more radiation than we had.

I guess I should wrap this up. I’m being honored at this year’s Thanksgiving Celebration in a few minutes. I tried to talk them out of it, but those that I respect insisted. Got a new generation coming up and everyone wants them to know and understand what happened those many years ago. So it won’t happen again.


Jeremy Wilkins
Thanksgiving Day, 2025

Oh. By the way. I still have preps. 2030 is coming up. Someone had a vision that it was going to be bad.


End ********

Copyright 2010
Jerry D Young