Gnash (16 page)

She screamed anew and her voice grew hoarse as she begged them to stop.  She pleaded with them and offered everything she had to give, including herself, in an effort to get them to cease the painful scrubbing with the brushes and just leave her alone.  The people in the protective suits ignored her pleas and it seemed to her that they scrubbed even harder, trying to expunge the shame and filth that she’d just subjected them to.  The pain of the bristles tearing into her skin became unbearable and she wished to die, but then her mind clung to one fleeting thought that strove to the surface between the waves of pain and her self-loathing.

She grasped at that random, fleeting thought and then her mind began to unravel from the tortured place that it had retreated to.  Suddenly, regardless of the physical hurt she was being subjected to, her thoughts coalesced into one clear truth: If she wished to die, then that meant that she was still alive! 

Emory Perry smiled weakly and passed out.

***

26 April, 1824 hrs local

Eastbound on Interstate 70

Seelyville, Indiana

Grayson had pushed his rental car long enough, he needed to stop for gas or he’d end up walking.  Besides, he had to stop and get the car parked somewhere before the curfew began again in a few minutes.  Since getting a new rental car and leaving Lawton a few days ago, he’d basically been on the run.  He learned through spotty, intermittent radio reception that the D.C. area was a nuclear wasteland and that there was total chaos all over the country.  It was amazing how quickly society could dwindle when the everyday checks and balances were in place went away.  Now, with the missile attack on Washington and the militias fighting the military and police, simple things like food and electricity were already becoming pretty scarce.

Regular people were afraid to leave their homes, so that meant the stores were closed, which led to looting and murder for food at first, then for survival items.  The emergency services were quickly overloaded with calls for help from citizens during those first several days.  Workers didn’t report to their jobs at the power plants, instead they chose to stay and keep their families safe since the police were busy responding to even more robberies, deaths and accidents, which meant that the electricity failed after only 48 hours.  With no power to support them, the cellular and telephone networks collapsed and people were no longer able to call for help.  The combined loss of power and ability to communicate with one another only heightened the hysteria that was already rampant across the country.  The president was forced to institute a nationwide 7 p.m. curfew in order to help the police deal with the problems they were facing.  It wasn’t quite total anarchy, but it was dangerously close.

Within twenty miles of Lawton, the highway became blocked by destroyed vehicles and barricades placed by both the militia and the advancing military, so he’d been forced to take the back roads to OKC, which was hell on his broken ribs.  By the time he reached the city it was clear that things there were in total chaos.  Most of the windows in the Bricktown district had been broken or shot out and looters hid from the glow of his headlights.  He drove by at least one major street fight between police officers and another armed group.  He decided to pack it up and get out of the state all together.

He’d paid ridiculous prices for a couple of grocery bags full of random food items from a gas station and then he traveled up Interstate 44 to Missouri.  He went into the police station in the first town he came to across the border.  The police officer at the desk was polite, but told the stranger that they had plenty of their own problems and that he should be glad he was alive, but to keep moving.  As if to emphasize the point, the radio behind him blared with the announcement that an officer had just captured several robbery suspects and was bringing them in.  The officer shooed him away from the station and strapped a bulletproof vest on as he walked to the front door.  

He’d tried a few more towns along the way but he’d gotten pretty much the same story everywhere he went.  America’s social rejects, criminals and disillusioned were rising up and creating total chaos all across the country.  Each radio station that was still on the air broadcast the message that good, law-abiding citizens respected the curfew that the federal government had put in place and to let the police and military handle the disorder.  The president had also apparently authorized the use of the military to put down the uprisings and citizens were encouraged to remain indoors, especially after the curfew.

He’d continued down the highway towards D.C., deciding to visit the crisis center that was rumored to have been established in the small town of Front Royal, Virginia.  The radio said that was where survivors and refugees were being taken after they had been decontaminated in one of the several small camps immediately outside of Washington.  If there was any chance that Emory was alive, she would be in one of the refugee camps.  He’d taken Interstate 70 from St. Louis and had been driving carefully east since then.  

Up ahead, there was a gas station that looked like it might still be open so he slowed down and took the next exit.  He pulled up to the pump and ran over a pneumatic air hose that set off a bell inside the station.  He killed the engine and got out to begin pumping gas.  An older man wearing a pair of mechanics overalls came out the front door of the building holding a shotgun.  Grayson instinctively raised his hands over his head.

“Shit boy, I ain’t gonna rob ya.  Just protectin’ my business.  Cash only though, credit card machine is out,” the old man said as he lowered the muzzle of the shotgun towards the ground.

Grayson smiled foolishly and lowered his arms.  “I don’t have any more cash on me but I’ve got a few things to trade that I’ve picked up along the way.”

“Well, the way things is goin’ money probly won’t be worth nuthin’ ‘fore too long, ain’t that the truth.  Whatcha got?”

Grayson walked back to the trunk and slowly opened it.  He reached in and pulled out a leather jacket and held it up, “I was planning on using this if it got cold in the mountains out east, but I’d be willing to part with it.  Just needs cleaning.”  He thought of the poor guy he’d gotten the jacket from in Missouri.  He saw him swinging from a tree along the side of the road he was driving on.  He’d cut him down with the small pocket knife he’d packed in his checked luggage before the trip but he was already long dead.  He’d taken everything he could from the man, including the jacket.  He rationalized with himself that it wasn’t stealing, that in the current world he might need the clothes.  Especially more than a dead body did.

“Alright, you got yourself a deal, hand it over.”

Grayson did as he was asked and returned to the car.  He put the hose into the Chevy’s gas tank and squeezed the handle.  Nothing happened.  “Hey man, I gotta hurry to get home by the curfew,” he lied.

“Huh?  Oh,” the old man looked up from trying on the jacket.  He had one arm through a sleeve and was holding the shotgun with the other hand and looked ridiculous.  He ducked back inside the station and flipped a switch.  He gave the thumbs up sign through the window and set the gun down on the counter to finish putting on the jacket.

Grayson finished filling the tank and capped it off.  The old man came out wearing the jacket and holding the shotgun again.  “So where ya headed?  You’re not from around here I don’t think.  Least ways, not with them Oklahoma plates.”

“Yeah, I’m just headed back home to Maryland, haven’t been able to reach my parents on the phone, so I decided to drive out there.”  He decided it was best not to tell the man his business, but he figured that by telling him roughly where he was going he would be able to keep his story straight.  “They were a couple hundred miles from where the news says the blast was, so I hope they’re alright.”

“Bah, pay no attention to the damn news.  They don’t know shit from Shinola.  You gotta listen to the locals when you travel east, y’hear?  But let me tell you, there are some baddies out there as well, so be careful.  You need anything else?  You’re still a long way off from Maryland, ain’t that the truth.”

“I sure could use some food and water or juice or something.”

“Sure son, come on in, I’ve got a whole store full of packaged junk that holds well for travelin’.  I recon this jacket is worth several tanks of gas, so lets get you a couple bags of groceries.”

Grayson stuck out his hand, “Name’s Grayson, thanks for your help.”

“Jeremiah.  No problem.  I appreciate this nice jacket.  Leather always holds up well over the years, so I’ll have it for a long time but you’re gonna be sick of Twinkies pretty soon.”

Grayson couldn’t argue with the old man’s logic so he followed him through the door.  Jeremiah handed him two plastic bags and told him to help himself to the snack food aisle.  He leaned against the counter and watched Grayson carefully, his shotgun resting easily in the crook of his arm.

Grayson selected several boxes of crackers, packages of fruit cookies and he cleaned Jeremiah out of beef jerky.  Then he went to the cooler and filled his second bag with water and a couple bottles of fruit juice.  “You mind if I get a road map from you as well?  I’ve been sticking to the main roads so far, but like you said, it’s becoming more unsafe to do that.”

“Sure mister, but that’s all I can spare.  I’ve gotta get everything locked up before curfew.  Thanks again for the jacket.” 

It was clear that he thought it was time for Grayson to leave.  He thanked the old man again as he slammed the door to his car.  It was time to find a place to stay for the night where the police and gangs wouldn’t mess with him, preferably some type of home with a garage so he could hide his car and then lay out on the floor inside and stretch his battered ribs.  Sleeping in the car was not comfortable in the best of situations, worse when every little bump against his side would send jolts of hot pain throughout the area.

He drove by several homes but he couldn’t be sure if they were abandoned, so he eventually turned the Cobalt into a park and drove across the grass until he backed up into the tree line and turned off the car.  With no luck securing a proper location to settle down for the night and stretch out, he locked the doors and carefully reclined the seat.  The keys jingled slightly in the ignition every time he shifted his weight but he wasn’t going to take a chance at losing them inside the car if he needed to leave in a hurry.

***

29 April, 2042 hrs local

Mount Weather 

Fauquier County, Virginia 

“Sir, it’s happening all over the country.  The few isolated incidents that occurred immediately in the aftermath of the Pentagon attack and the assassinations multiplied a hundredfold after the bombing of D.C. and the loss of power everywhere else.  The damn militias are all over the Midwest, gangs in the major cities and drug kingpins everywhere else.  Local law enforcement has been able to regain control in most places but some, like the militia attack on Fort Sill, are still not under control,” Robert Griffith said.  He gestured towards a map of the United States that was covered in marks and pin-holes indicating areas of past and current anarchy. 

The Director of the FBI continued his brief, “I’ll start with the militias.  Different organizations, some working in concert with each other, and other large groups working independently have completely taken over Fort Sill, Oklahoma and Fort Riley, Kansas…”

“How the fuck did that happen Pete?” the president asked his top general.

“Sir, with all the safety measures we’ve got in place on those installations the troops didn’t even have ammunition for their weapons.  In both cases, the militias captured the ammo dumps first and then systematically worked at exterminating the unarmed population that wasn’t in league with them.  It’s the damn liberals fault.  They were so concerned about an armed military operating on American soil…”

“I don’t want excuses General, just the facts.  Right after this meeting, have ammunition issued out at all of our other bases, got it?”

The FBI man cleared his throat, “Sir, are you suggesting that we suspend
Posse Comitatus
?”

“It’s a little fucking late for that letter of the law bullshit Rob.  Yes, I’m officially suspending it and I’ll tell the fifteen members of Congress that are still alive that that’s what I’m doing.  Hell, we’re already using federal troops on U.S. soil.”  He turned to his Chief of Staff, “John, get the governors on the phone and ask them to call out their National Guard if they haven’t already.  Explain to them that deadly force will have to be authorized.  I’ll inform them and the rest of the nation at my briefing tonight that I’m invoking the Insurrection Act and we’re going to get every dick in uniform out on the streets.”  He gestured for the director to continue.

“Sir, as of right now, those are the only two installations that have been fully lost.  Initial satellite reconnaissance indicates that the militias on the bases have begun barricading the cantonment areas and have also placed the tanks and Bradleys in a defensive formation around the area.  There’s no reliable estimate to the number of militiamen involved, but there is every indication that a large part of their force consists of members of our military.”  He waited for the groans to die down, “As you know, there is significant resentment of Smithwick-Greenspan within the military and many of our troops may be a part of this, it’s still too early to know for sure, but we’re investigating that possibility.  At both installations, the local police forces were also attacked and there appears to be coordination between the group in Kansas and the group in Oklahoma.  Other paramilitary groups have reportedly taken over entire towns but to our knowledge, they’ve been put down with the help of law enforcement from neighboring communities, however communications are pretty sketchy at this point and we’re relying on our few military satellites until we can get the corporations to go back to work.

“As I stated earlier, the gangs have also risen up in the cities.  They began full-scale gang warfare within hours of the blast.  Depending on which city we’re talking about, the gangs are either at war with each other and the police are getting killed trying to stop them or the gangs are collaborating and are at war with the police.  In all cases, the instances of civilian casualties have been extremely high.  In Chicago alone there have been over seven hundred reported or discovered murders in the past thirty-six hours.”