Fuel (Best Laid Plans Book 1) (8 page)

This one hadn't been quite as calm and reassuring, and the only nuggets of good news offered were that construction of the new refineries was already underway and that the Federal government had officially dispatched FETF, the Federal Emergency Task Force, along with elements of the National Guard working with other branches of the Armed Forces, to render aid and restore order in the cities where circumstances were most desperate. He also promised further aid to every city in the nation as the situation warranted. And, finally, he'd practically begged citizens to remain calm and orderly, stating that civil unrest would only cause problems for everyone.

The attempts by the nation's leader to impose order were largely ineffective, and over the next few days even though the news constantly reported on new events they always followed the same trend: looting and riots in major cities, fires burning unchecked through entire neighborhoods, crime shooting through the roof, and local government officials who hadn't had enough fuel to even truck in food now not having enough to send police and emergency vehicles where they were needed after the first few hours.

The news was interspersed with PSAs and statements from public officials, actors, religious leaders, and other prominent people urging everyone to remain calm and exercise social responsibility in the face of this crisis, which didn't seem to be helping at all judging by the news stories regularly appearing of escalating violence.

Chaos raged in state capitols and along the east and west coasts, with any city with a large population getting a taste of it. Even though it was far too soon for people to be starving experts were already estimating death tolls in the tens of thousands, a number they grimly projected could increase by an order of magnitude within the next few days, and probably rise into the tens or even hundreds of millions over the winter if the fuel crisis wasn't resolved.

Matt was shocked by how quickly things were falling apart in spite of the rationing and emergency measures cities under Martial Law had to have taken to prevent just this sort of thing. His waning hope that things would eventually go back to normal had long since given way to alarm as he instead saw things spiraling further and further out of control, with no sign of any return to normalcy on the horizon.

For the first few days newscasters had optimistically parroted the President's assurance of quickly building new refineries and using the nation's last reserves to make sure food and necessities were trucked to population centers all over the U.S. to outlast the crisis. They'd spoken of the various measures being taken to secure vital supplies and of doubling the workload at remaining refineries to meet increased demand.

But after those first few days after the attack the news reports of developments in solving the crisis dwindled down to nothing, and Matt couldn't help but feel that in spite of the old saying that no news was good news, the eerie silence on the subject of when they could expect the refined fuel to start flowing and food trucks to start running again was very, very bad news. The sort that hinted at a long term disaster instead of a short term crisis.

The long and short of it was that it was only a matter of time before riots started here as well, and he had a feeling that was going to be days or even hours as opposed to weeks. Matt couldn't take looking at the shaky videos of fires raging out of control and crowds hurling rocks and bricks at capitol buildings anymore, so he hurriedly left the lounge and made his way to his apartment.

The dorms were split into apartment clusters with four rooms each shared by two people, with two shared bathrooms and a kitchen and small living area completing the space. Five of Matt's roommates had already left, including Chad, and he barely saw the two who remained. Neither was anywhere to be seen when he entered the apartment and took the soda bottles over to the sink to wash them out and fill them with water. Trev had seemed sure the power would go soon and the water would quickly follow, and Matt wanted to be sure there was plenty around just in case.

He was actually a little amazed that, thanks to the power restrictions and whatever fuel reserves the electric companies were running on, they still had plenty of running water and lights at night and even internet and cell phone service. And yet the flow of trucks bringing food and other necessities into the city had slowed to a trickle, quickly seized by city officials for rationing when they arrived, and only a week after the Gulf refineries attack the city had already run out of food and people were going hungry all around him.

Was Trev right, and that was all the food available in the entire city at any given time? A week or so? Sure, Matt could guess people were hoarding whatever they'd managed to snatch up and those who'd acted fast were doing okay. But even with all the stores with full shelves, the restaurants stocked for service, and the warehouses where extra food was stored until it was needed, not to mention locally produced food like orchards and egg and dairy services, he would've expected the food to last at least a month.

Although to be fair, with millions of people packed into a relatively small area even what seemed like a lot of food would disappear pretty quickly into so many hungry mouths.

Trev had been right. The government wasn't going to save the day any time soon and things weren't going to get any better, at least not before they got much much worse. Matt couldn't see any real reason to stay when even a lot of the professors were abandoning their classes, and he was starting to see why his friend had been so worried about being in a city during a disaster. It was as he was filling the last of the bottles that Matt's budding resolution to get out of the city crystallized into a determination to not wait another minute. It was time to head home, not just for his own sake but to be there for his parents when this chaos eventually reached even their small town down in Carbon County.

Before he left, though, he wanted to implement one of Trev's other good ideas: stocking up on essentials.

Sure, he wasn't stupid enough to think that there'd be any
food
left in stores at this point. But food wasn't the only thing people needed in an emergency, and there were a lot of things people might have overlooked in their desperation to meet their more immediate needs. Things like toothbrushes, floss, soap, blankets, over the counter medicines, even toilet paper. If he could spend all his remaining savings on stuff he might be able to use or trade later then he'd still end up in a better position than if he came home with nothing but the clothes on his back.

He had to at least try, especially after Trev and Lewis had made him look like a blind fool caught with his pants down in a disaster with nothing prepared. He had enough fuel left in his car to take him home, or at least most of the way, and even if he didn't quite make it he could always ferry the supplies the rest of the way. If worse came to worst he could borrow Tom Hawsett's horse and parade wagon for the trip. To go shopping meant he'd have to walk to the nearest store and bring the supplies back to campus pushing a grocery cart, maybe making several trips for everything, but that wasn't so bad.

But before he could head back out the door to walk to the nearest superstore, which was about a mile away, the door to the nearest room opened and his roommate Trent shuffled out. The tall, gangly student made his way to one of the couches in the living room, slumping down in the dim light coming in through the windows and staring at the blank screen. The twenty-five year old, who was still working on his bachelor's, had always been a bit odd and rarely socialized with his roommates, but this behavior was strange even for him.

Matt paused in heading out the door and made his way over. “What's up?”

Trent didn't even look over at him. “Nothing, man.”

He usually would've left it at that and walked away, but this didn't feel like a leave obvious problems alone sort of day. “Nothing? You're sitting in the dark staring at a blank TV. Come on, what's up?”

His roommate made a low noise and dropped his head into his hands. “Just stuff.”

“Yeah.” Matt went and sat on the opposite end of the couch. “I just went to a canceled class after walking away from a riot in the cafeteria, then decided to finally give up on my college education and worry about getting home instead. I know about stuff.”

Trent laughed. “Yeah, education. We won't be able to wear our little square hat and gown and get a rolled up piece of paper anymore. Too bad.”

Matt frowned. He actually cared a lot about education, which was why he was here. But he really wasn't in the mood to argue, especially not with the roommate he barely even saw.

So he kept silent, and eventually Trent began talking. “I visit a psychiatrist, you know? I was going to the university services and talking to one of their psychologists, but he thought I needed more than just counseling.”

“Okay.” Matt didn't quite know what to say. He wasn't surprised, not with the way Trent acted, but he hadn't expected it.

“So for the last year he's had me on antidepressants for generalized anxiety disorder. I don't know if it's been helping, I guess. But with prices really getting out of control in the last six months I told him I couldn't afford the prescription, that maybe it was an expense I could do without. A few months ago I tried going off it.”

Matt nodded. That seemed reasonable, he supposed. The time to figure out if you can do without something is when it's hard to get.

Trent made another low noise, almost a moan, and clenched his hands into fists at the sides of his head, gripping clumps of hair. “It was bad. I felt like, I don't know, I don't really want to talk about it. But after about a week off the drugs I was so messed up I tried to kill myself.”

“I had no idea.” Matt clamped his mouth shut, embarrassed about his response. But what did you say to something like that? “I'm sorry, man.”

His roommate shook his head slowly from side to side, and kept it up as he started talking again. “My psychiatrist told me I should get back on the meds. He dropped my dosage down to more affordable levels, but it was enough. Things got a bit better.”

“Well that's good.”

Fiercer head shaking. “No it's not! As soon as I heard that the trucks wouldn't be bringing in shipments, not even of necessities, I called and asked my psychiatrist about my medication. He said he wasn't sure whether or not pharmaceuticals were going to be shipped in, but that local distributers were withholding SSRIs and antipsychotics for treatment of the criminally disordered and those who were a danger to themselves or others.”

Matt frowned. “But that's you, isn't it?” As soon as he said it he was afraid Trent would be offended. “I mean sorry, that's a messed up thing to say, but aren't you on some suicide watch list or something?”

His roommate shook his head with another low moan. “I never told him about it. I just said it was really bad without the medication and I couldn't handle it anymore. I figured maybe I was just being overdramatic or something.”

A short silence settled and Matt shifted on the couch, unsure what to say. He was glad Trent was turned away from him so his roommate couldn't see how uncomfortable he was. “Can't you go to another doctor? Or maybe tell your psychiatrist how serious it is?”

Trent shook his head again. “I'm afraid he won't give me any even if I tell him, but he'll think I'm unstable and have me committed or something. It's not really that bad. It isn't.”

It sounded pretty bad to Matt, but he couldn't say that. “Well what if you cut your doses down even more? Just took it when it got really really bad?”

A shrug. “I think that's what I'm going to have to do. But it's not going to be good. It's going to be an awful few weeks until gas starts flowing again. And not just for me. Did you know Utah ranks highest for percentage of people with mental disorders in the US?”

Matt hadn't known that, and he wasn't sure how much he liked hearing it. Things were already looking bad only a week after the attack. Add in the highest percentage of people with mental disorders in the country, all of them off their meds, and what did that equal? Heading down to Aspen Hill was looking more and more attractive, and the sooner the better.

Trent abruptly stood up. “You think I'm a nutjob, don't you?”

He stood up too. “Hey no, no man. Sounds like it's the meds that're causing your problems, that's all.” He didn't know how convincing he sounded. This was his first time really seeing mental problems firsthand, and even though he felt bad for the guy and sympathized with his problem he also felt a bit uncomfortable.

Trent glared at him for a second then turned and stalked to his room, closing the door quietly behind him. For some reason that made it seem all the more odd to Matt, who'd been expecting a slam.

Now seemed like a great time to get out of the apartment and go shopping, but as he left the dorms and campus grounds behind he couldn't help but wonder about other medical problems. Mental issues were certainly serious, but what about people who required insulin or dialysis or chemo or other critical treatments? What about people waiting for transplants? For now it would just be missing their meds, but once the power went out would the government have enough fuel to power whatever backup generators hospitals needed to keep running?

It wasn't just starvation or violence, the death toll from those reliant on modern medicine was going to be devastating as well.

Those thoughts put Matt in a bleak mood as he walked the distance to the store, and he felt a sudden urge to call his parents. He pulled out his phone and dialed his mom's number, who answered within moments of the first ring. “Honey, is everything all right?” she demanded in a frantic voice.