Earth's Survivors Apocalypse (23 page)

They had both picked up weapons in the shop. Billy had picked out a deer rifle, a fairly impressive looking Remington. He had also picked up several boxes of the ammunition the rifle took. Beth had settled on an entirely different sort of weapon. It looked more like a machine gun of some sort to Billy, than anything else, and she picked up several boxes of ammunition for it, and several spare clips. She explained to him that it really wasn't a rifle, but a machine pistol, and that it could fire better than seventy rounds a second if it were converted to full automatic. This one wasn't, she said, but she had seen some that were. To Billy it still looked like a machine gun, and he joked that the sight of it alone would probably scare anyone off.

By the time they had loaded the truck and gotten under way it was late afternoon. Even with the late start, and the slow going due to the stalled traffic, they managed to make it to the Colorado River in Ehrenberg Arizona just before nightfall.

The country had been turning more arid as they drove, the river was a oasis. Off to the north giant plumes of smoke blanketed the sky, seeming to spread across the entire length of the horizon. They had both wondered what it might be. Beth had checked the map and she thought it could be Yellowstone or something close to Yellowstone.

Shops, stores, and even an RV park had sprung up around the interchange. They foraged for food in the late afternoon and gassed up the truck before evening began to take the sunlight. The air had a bitter, hot smell to it, the river flowed sluggishly, the water gray, and a scum of yellow white foam and ash rode the slow current. They sat in the truck and ate quietly while the map lay open across their legs and the seat top. Their eyes would drop to the map and then jump back up to scan the area. It had seemed too quiet, and there were no bodies anywhere. No sign of life either, and the stores and shops had not been looted. Some were still locked up. Empty RV's in the park when they rolled slowly through it. Neither liked the feeling, the whole place just felt wrong.

“Billy,” Beth waited until his eyes left the map and met her own. He lifted them to follow her own gaze. “The silver building over to the right. The door just opened and then closed.”

Billy frowned. “Not something someone willing to meet us would do, is it?”

“We didn't think they would come out in the daylight,” Beth said.

As billy watched he saw the door edge open slightly and then close just as slowly. “Saw it... I don't like it. They know we're here and they're checking us out.” He dropped his eyes back to the map.

“Okay,” he said after a few moments. “Lets get back on the road. That takes us away from civilization to a degree. Eventually that will bring us back into Arizona, but there's a lot of desolation between here and there, at least on the map.”

“Desolation is fine as long as the gangs aren't there.” Beth said quietly.

“Less likely to be,” Billy agreed.

A few minutes later they were running through the desert that ran alongside I 10. There were not a great many cars or trucks there, but in several places there had been wrecks that closed lanes down. With no one to clear them they would have ended up in the desert anyway. And there seemed to be a dirt road that ran beside I-10 for as far as they could see.

The landscape in the distance had been changing as they drove the day away, but with the sun setting a few hours after they set out once more it was hard to tell what the surrounding countryside was like. Billy dropped speed and flicked the trucks high beams on. A short while later Beth was sleeping, her head heavy against Billy's arm. He drove through the night and into the early morning before she woke again.

Old Towne: Conner and Katie

James leaned around the hood and looked through the windshield of the old Suburban. He nodded. “Try it, Jake.”

The motor turned over a half dozen times, then suddenly fired and rumbled to life. Jake gave it a little more gas, pulled out the old fashioned choke. The motor smoothed out and began to run a little better.

James backed away from the engine compartment, a large smile on his face. “Know what this means?” he asked, raising his voice to be heard above the noisy truck.

Jake grinned and nodded back. “As long as they’re not electronically controlled, they’ll run. We should be able to find a few more.”

James nodded in agreement.

They had found the old Suburban in a lot out in back of one of the car dealerships on outer Washington Street. The lot itself was wrecked; the buildings not much better, but hundreds of new cars and trucks sat on the cracked pavement, or pointed their noses or tails at the sky where they were half buried. The Suburban had been set up with a plow, and they all agreed it was probably just used to plow the lot.

Before they had even gone looking for a vehicle, Jake and James had gone hunting for a small gasoline powered engine. Lawn mower, leaf blower, it didn’t matter, just something small without an electronic ignition or brain. They’d come up with a heavy duty chain saw. Several tugs and a little choke had gotten it running. That had convinced them that it would be worth finding an older, full size truck.

“We could convert one of these newer trucks. It would take some work but if we can find the right parts we could do it,” Jake said.

“Maybe,” James agreed. “Trouble is finding a block that’s still the same. Heads, intake, it’s a lot to hope for. It would be easier to just fix the old stuff up. New tires, battery, we could even do the axles if we absolutely had to.”

Jake nodded his head. “Hmm,” he grumbled. “Guess so.”

James turned away. It was obvious to him that Jake didn’t like being disagreed with or second guessed. Yes, parts were parts, and if they were just parts, no problem. There were even kits to convert non-electronic ignition motors over to electronic ignition, but not the other way around. There were motors, built mostly for racing applications that were designed to use carburetors and simple distributors. There were things they could do, but it wasn’t simple black and white.

He had been seeing more and more of this close minded attitude from Jake since they had moved into the factory. Jake had lost his place as leader. It didn’t matter that he had been nearly the only one who had seen himself that way. He had seen the situation that way, and now the situation had changed. He didn’t see himself as leader any longer, and he didn’t like it. Oh well, James thought. He’d get over it, or he wouldn’t. There was nothing for it except to watch it happen, whatever way it happened.

Jake let the truck idle high for a few minutes then reset the choke dropping the idle down to normal.

“We got wheels,” Lydia said happily. She, Conner, Katie and Jan had come walking back from further down the lot. Pulled by the sound of the truck starting from where they had been searching for other vehicles that would be good candidates for starting.

“We found three others that seem as though they might work out,” Conner said. “One's an old crew cab state truck the other two are old pickups. All three are four wheel drives.” He grinned at James.

James laughed. “Well let’s go get them,” he said. He turned and started away.

“Hey,” Jake said, leaning against the door of the truck, “Wouldn’t you rather drive?”

James laughed again. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Much rather.” Everybody piled into the Suburban. Jake pulled out of the back of the lot and headed back in the direction the others had come from.

Route 104: Mike and Candace

Early Morning

T
he next morning they were on the road early. The going was still slow, but by noon they were on the outskirts of Alton, a small town about forty miles from Rochester. They were only thirty or so miles from Webster where they would turn off 104, and take route 250 into the small village of Fairport.

A run-down general store, with two old gas pumps sitting on a chipped concrete island, was all that marked the small town. The low speeds and constant use of the four wheel drive, had taken a toll on the fuel tanks of all three vehicles, so when Mike had spotted the small store as they passed a sign for the township limits; they had pulled off into the dirt parking area. The other two Jeeps followed him in and lined up by the pumps.

When Candace and Terry, along with Gina, had first picked up the jeeps, they had filled the tanks by siphoning gas from the dealership's underground tanks. It had been a fairly easy process as Terry had worked at a gas station before, and had been responsible for, among other things, checking the levels of the tanks and comparing them on a daily basis to the numbers on the pumps to make sure they matched up. He had known where to look for them. The tanks were fairly simple to access. A long piece of hose slipped down into the tank had been adequate to siphon the gas into cans and then fill the Jeeps.

Terry had found a hand operated pump, mainly used to pump kerosene from cans into small heaters, at the department store back in Oswego, and, along with Dave, had adapted the crank operated pump to use it to pump gasoline. The adaptation had been simple. A long section of heavy hose had been slipped over the pumps short tube, and held in place with a small hose clamp.

One by one the Jeeps were pulled over next to the underground tanks, and quickly filled. Candace had been impressed with the idea. It was a lot better than the mouthfuls of gas they had swallowed filling the Jeeps back in Watertown.

After the Jeeps were gassed up they decided to take a short break and eat lunch. They were all getting sick of the canned meat, so they foraged through the small general store to see what was available. Once each had found what they wanted, they had carried it out onto the wide front deck to eat.

Mike sipped at a cold beer while he sat in an old wooden chair eating a large bag of chips. Bob and John were talking quietly beside him.

“Where do you think the best place to go is?” Bob asked of John. They had been discussing several places where people may have gathered. They were all hoping to find other people once they arrived in Rochester, but until now they had not discussed where to go once they arrived.

John answered. “Well, the compass is open. I think it would be a good idea to stay away from the North side though. The whole area has been run down for years, and I'm not so sure we'd want to meet anyone who was still alive in there.”

“That bad, huh?” Mike asked.

“Actually, more than that bad,” he replied. “When I was still living there, and still on the City Council, I remember we had constant problems there. The city was always being accused of not caring much about the north side, and to be honest it was based in fact to a certain extent. The city and the council, me included I hate to admit, did let it run down pretty much. Trouble was, when we tried to retake the neighborhoods we couldn't.”

“Why?” Bob asked. “Didn't you have support from the neighborhoods?”

“Not really,” John said. “Don't get me wrong. There were still a lot of good people trying to live there, but by the time the city stepped in, drugs had pretty much taken over. It got so the police couldn't even go in there after dark. The drug dealers knew it and used it to their advantage. After a while... well, the good people who had tried to change things just left. The last time I was there, on Clifford Avenue, it was pretty bad. We, myself, and two other board members, decided to take a tour through some neighborhoods ourselves, to see just how bad it had gotten. We had to have a police escort, and even then we ended up seeing only a small part. Most of the neighborhoods were full of drug houses, prostitution, burned out buildings. I'll tell you, truthfully, it scared me. That was one of the reasons I didn't run again and ended up moving to Watertown.”

“A lot of parts of Watertown were like that too,” Mike said. “I got to the point where I really had begun to hate the place.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” John said. “Don't get me wrong. I'm not glad that this happened, but... who knows how much worse things would have gotten? At least now there's a chance to start over again, maybe.”

“You know what really got to me?” Bob asked. Both men looked at him waiting for him to speak.

“You know where Mobile Alabama is?” they both nodded. “Well, I was down there a few years back to see a buddy of mine I was in the Navy with. We were always telling each other we were going to get together and finally we did. So we were driving down Airport Boulevard, kind'a the main street so to speak, and I was, you know, sort of looking around out the window. Sightseeing, I guess you could say. Anyway, I see this young girl standing in the middle of the island that splits the lanes holding a sign. I figured it was one of those
'Will work for food'
signs, but as we got closer I saw it wasn't. I could also see she was pregnant, couldn't have been more than sixteen or so. I asked my friend to slow down so I could read the sign. I couldn't believe it.”

“Well, what did it say?” John asked.

“Well, it was misspelled, you know, but it said,
'I'm pregnant and abandoned, please help me.'
I couldn't believe it, so I asked my buddy to turn around and go back, but by the time he did she was gone. I couldn't believe that things had come to that.”

“That's bad all right,” Mike said. “I've seen the other signs, the food signs, but I've never seen one like that.”

“I haven't either,” John said, “but I can't say it surprises me a lot.”

“Well,” Bob continued, “that wasn't the end of it, two days later I picked up the paper and there was an article about her in it. I guess I wasn't the only one who had seen her. The police had picked her up earlier, and told her not to stand there with that sign. That was in the morning, and it was afternoon when I went by, so she must have come back. Quite a few people had seen her back there in the afternoon, according to the paper. Well, the thing is that somebody did stop and pick her up, but not to help her. They found her body in the bay the next morning. If they hadn't picked her up the day before, they probably wouldn't have known who she was, but they did, I guess. The story said they had fingerprinted her, and taken pictures too. I guess they arrested her, ain't that a slap in the face? Anyhow, that's how they identified the body... I've always wondered about it. Who would just abandon her in the first place? I mean, being pregnant and homeless? I've always felt that I should have convinced my buddy to stop right there. Fuck the traffic, just stop and pick her up...”