Through Many Fires (Strengthen What Remains) (2 page)

Caden
drove on into the night.

In the
early morning darkness, he passed a sign welcoming him to West Virginia and,
only as he went by, realized it was lit.
Electricity!
He looked at his
gas gauge. It danced on the “E”.
Please God, an open gas station
.

A mile
ahead, sitting at nothing more than a wide spot in the road, was an all night
gas station and market. Six of the eight pumps were busy even at this early
hour. Caden pulled into an empty spot and was pleasantly surprised that his
debit card worked. While the tank filled he retrieved the five-gallon can from
his trunk. He smiled remembering all the times Dad had told him to always have
jumper cables, basic tools and a gas can in the car. After filling them both
with every drop of gas they could hold, he pulled up to the store to buy other
supplies.

As he
entered, the clerk looked at him with a wary eye then, apparently deciding he
was okay, returned to watching the television.

Caden
desperately wanted to join the clerk, but first he had to get provisions.

“…
was
detonated at ground level and was small by modern standards, estimated at less
than 20 kilotons. These factors also limited the electromagnetic pulse to the
immediate vicinity.”

Seeing
cases of bottled water on the shelf, he picked up a couple of bottles.
Water
is more critical than food.
The words from his army training hung in his
mind. He grabbed a case.

“
FEMA
has set up a command center at Andrews Air Force Base. Other relief and medical
centers are being established outside of the red zone.”

Sandwiches
caught his eye. Three would do.

“
No
reliable estimate of casualties is available but all area hospitals have been
inundated. The most severely injured are being moved to hospitals up and down the
coast from Boston to Richmond and Atlanta.”

At the
mention of Becky’s hometown, Caden glanced at the television.

“
Now
we turn to Steve in the weather center.”

He was
surprised that they would give a weather report at such a time. Who would want
to know about the temperature now? Within moments his eyes were fixed on the
screen with intense interest. They were showing wind direction from the blast
and fallout patterns. The breeze last night had been blowing off shore, taking
the radiation out to sea, almost directly away from where he had been in Silver
Springs and Bethesda. Caden felt a huge burden lift from him. He would live.

The
weatherman was still on camera, but he just stood staring ahead. As Caden
watched a look of horror spread across his face. The image shifted to a man
sitting behind a desk, his face strangely tight.

“
We
are receiving reports that there has been an attack on Los Angeles. I repeat.
We have unconfirmed reports of a nuclear blast, just moments ago, in the Los
Angeles metropolitan area.”

Certain
that food and gas would soon be in short supply, Caden reassessed his needs. It
took three trips from the market to carry five cases of bottled water, three
gas cans and a Styrofoam cooler full of food covered with ice to his car. He
opened the back door and pushed the food and water in.

While
he filled the gas cans he tried again to call Becky and his parents, then
cursed his lack of success. Looking up in frustration, he saw the first hint of
morning color in the sky. He glanced at his watch. Dawn was less than an hour
away. He loaded the gas into the trunk as cars began arriving. A van parked at
the last available pump. A woman, her hair disheveled as if she just awoke,
jumped from the vehicle and ran into the market while a stubble-faced man
filled the tank and retrieved cans from the car.

Pulling
away from the pumps, Caden noticed a pay phone at the side of the store. It was
worth a try.

His
heart skipped when he heard the ring. When someone picked up the receiver he
shouted. “Becky? Is that you?”

“
Caden?
Caden! I was afraid you might be…Where are you?”

He
delighted in hearing her speak. In conversation with friends, she spoke slower
than most, with a soft accent that betrayed her southern birth, but now that
was all gone.

“
Where
are you,” she repeated. “I’ve been trying to call you—your apartment, even your
office.”

Quickly,
he told her how close he had been to the Washington attack and that he was
coming. “I’d really like it if you left Atlanta.”

“
I
can’t. Not right now.”

“
This
is not the time to be in a city.”

“
The
technicians are setting up an auxiliary studio at the affiliate in Birmingham,
but until they finish, well, these attacks are the biggest news story ever. The
network wants everyone covering it.”

Caden
used every persuasive weapon available to convince her to leave, logic, love
and finally guilt. “Is your career more important than me, than your life?”

“
What
are the chances of more bombs? And even if there are more, New York or Chicago
are more likely targets than Atlanta.”

Realizing
that she would not leave he said, “I’ll try to call you tonight, but if there
is another attack, will you leave?”

There
was a pause. “We’ll talk when you get here.”

After
he hung up, he tried calling his family but didn’t get through. He cursed.
I
should have asked Becky to call them.

The
majority of traffic would use the freeways, so Caden avoided them, sticking to
the secondary roads. Gradually, the morning sun painted the sky with pink and
gold. He turned on the satellite radio and scanned the stations. Fewer than
half were operating. There was some music, but all the news and talk channels
spoke of nothing but the attacks.

“
This
just in, Secretary of Homeland Security, Michael Durant, has assumed the duties
of the President.”

Durant!
That egotistical….

“
As we
reported earlier, Secretary Durant was involved in a traffic accident yesterday
on his way into Washington D.C. for the State of the Union Address. He was
taken to a hospital in Baltimore where he is recovering.

He’s
last in line of succession. All the others—they must be dead.

As if
to confirm Caden’s realization the announcer went on, “More senior officials in
the line of succession are assumed to have died in the attack on Washington.”

“
President
Michael Durant.”
God help us. That political hack has exceeded his level of
incompetence.

The
sun peeked over a nearby hill as he entered a small town. When Caden stopped at
a red light, a rotund, middle-aged man in a dark suit and tie, walked across
the street in front of him. He watched as the man walked to an electronics
shop, unlocked the door and entered. Caden pulled into the parking lot.

The
bell on the door jingled as he entered the store. The big man stood behind the
counter, his jacket straining against his bulk.

“
You’re
my first customer today.”

“
I
suspect you’ll be busy.”

The
man nodded grimly and unbuttoned his jacket.

“
I’m
looking for a shortwave radio with weather and the AM band.”

He
hung the jacket behind the counter. “I think I have exactly what you want right
here,” he pulled one from the shelf. “Four shortwave bands, weather, AM and FM
and you can charge it by winding this crank or,” he popped up the top, “with
this solar panel.” He set the radio on the counter. “These features may come in
handy.”

Caden
agreed.

“
Why
are you interested in the weather band?”

“
For
information on wind direction and fallout and the NOAA frequencies carry
emergency alert information.”

“
Oh.”
The man took another of the radios from the shelf and set it behind the
counter. “Anything else you need?”

“
Any
MURS radios?”

“
No,
sorry, we don’t get much call for them.”

Caden
knew it was unlikely. “How about a couple of General Mobile transceivers?”

“
GMRS?
Sure.” The clerk took four off a nearby shelf. “These are the best model that I
carry.”

Caden
watched as he again set the extras behind the counter.

Looking
up, the big man smiled, “I’ll probably sell out today and I want some for my
family.”

“
Do
you have cell phones? Mine doesn’t seem to be working well since….”

“
Where
you close to D.C.?”

“
Yes,”
he nodded. “Too close really.”

“
The
Electromagnetic Pulse probably fried or at least damaged your phone. I can hook
you up with a new one.”

Caden
had heard something about EMP years before. Now he wished he had paid more
attention.

He put
his new phone in his pants pocket, but left everything else in the bag as he
walked from the shop. Back at his vehicle, he set the new things down on the
floor in front of the passenger seat just as two cars raced by him. He watched
the vehicles stop at a nearby grocery store. Already dozens of cars were out in
front.
It’s going to be a very busy shopping day.
As he drove by, a
clerk put up a handwritten sign that read, “No out of town checks.”

Caden
continued south on the state highway out of town. Traffic had been heavy, but
as the sun rose towards its zenith, the northbound volume appeared less. Still,
cars full of adults, children, dogs, cats and suitcases zoomed past in the
opposite lane. There were mini-vans and SUVs filled with boxes, their luggage racks
full and pulling trailers. He marveled at the number of RVs heading north in
the dead of winter. He rubbed his eyes and yawned.
Where are they all going?

A man
walking north with a gas can prompted Caden to look down at his dashboard. His
tank was three quarters full and he was going sixty.
Speeding for the first
time since the attack.

Starting
into a turn, he looked up. Smoke and fire billowed just ahead. He slammed on
the brakes. Caden gripped the wheel as the car slid.

Mere
inches from the edge of the flame, his vehicle stopped. He could feel the heat.
Caden looked over his shoulder and backed away and off to the side a safe
distance. Cars continued past using the shoulder to slip by the accident
one-by-one.
That’s why northbound traffic seemed lighter.

He
yanked the door open and jumped from the car. The smell of burning oil, gas and
flesh thrust memories from dark corners of his mind, but with it came instinct
and training. He pushed the memories aside and assessed the situation. There
were no bodies or injured on the pavement. A pickup truck was engulfed in
flame. In it he saw one body, blackened and burned beyond hope of life.
Were
there any passengers?
Flames swirled around the truck. They had either fled
or were dead.
But this is at least a two car accident.
He climbed up the
slope to view the other car. From this vantage point he surveyed the accident.
Apparently, a northbound SUV had passed in the curve and hit the pickup. The
front of the SUV was also on fire. If anyone was in the back of that car they
were dead from heat and smoke. But there was a third car, a two-door compact.
Flames were just feet away but it was not on fire—yet.

Cars
slipped by going north and south using the wide shoulder. Occasionally, one
stopped. He could see some people trying to use their cell phones. He doubted
if they were able to contact emergency services.

A car
stopped. The driver yelled, “Are there any injured?”

He
looked over the scene once again. He shook his head and mumbled, “All dead.”
Then louder, “I don’t think there is anything we can do.”

The
man nodded and then drove on.

Caden
wanted to continue his journey, but hesitated. It felt wrong to leave so
quickly. He reached into his pocket for his new cell phone. He would at least
attempt to report the accident.

Something
moved in the third car. He stepped forward struggling to peer through the
smoke. A woman struggled to sit up in the vehicle. She held her head.

“
Are
you okay?” Caden took tentative steps down the slope, into the smoke and heat.

She
was an older, gray-haired, woman. She looked at him with dazed eyes.

“
I’ll
be right there.”

She
opened the car door and fell hard to the pavement.

Instinctively
he dialed 911 and was surprised when he got through. He described the situation
as he reached the woman. Quickly he pulled her upwind out of the smoke and
heat.

“
What
is your location?”

“
Where
am I?” He looked around in panic. Several cars stopped, but no one was close
enough to ask. A rusted pickup truck heading north pulled into the southbound
lane and stopped. A large lumberjack of a man stepped out.

Still
holding the phone to his ear, Caden shouted, “Where are we?”

“
Just
north of Beckley on Highway 19,” the big man said.

Caden
repeated the words then cushioned the woman’s head.

“
Is
she alive?”

Moving
his fingers along the side of her neck he said, “She was a bit ago.” Caden
found a weak pulse. A black and blue lump marked her forehead and blood matted
the right side of her head where she hit the pavement.
She’s going to have
an awful headache.

The
big man got a blanket from his truck and covered the woman.

“
Thanks.”
Caden said.

The
man nodded. He looked at the cars going past. “They’re all afraid. Running as
fast as they can to somewhere…anywhere.” He looked Caden in the eye. “I’ve seen
this fear….” His eyes seemed to look far away. “Iraq, Afghanistan. I never
thought I’d see it in America.”

The
wail of a siren came on the breeze. Normally, Caden tensed at the sound, but
not today. Now it was the sound of comfort.

Paramedics
arrived followed closely by a fire engine. Within seconds, the injured woman
was being treated.

Yes,
they were treating her and that was good, but it was more than that.
We are
not islands in a storm, each separately enduring whatever is thrown in our direction.
We are still citizens bound together by ethics and laws. We help each other.

Caden
walked a few feet up the slope, away from the madness of the road, and dropped
to the ground in the shade of tree. Leaning his head against the trunk, he
suddenly felt exhausted. He yawned and watched with heavy eyes as the medics
loaded the woman into the van and whisked her away. He gazed at the flow of
traffic north.
But how many cars passed without helping?

The
big man folded his blanket, nodded to Caden and resumed his trip north.

Well,
some of us help each other.

Caden
retrieved the liter soda bottle, still filled with water from his apartment
toilet tank and splashed it liberally on his face.

Only
as he resumed his journey south did he think of the nearly thirty gallons of
gasoline he carried in the car and the inferno that might have been. He
shuddered and drove onward with more care. Traffic thinned as the day waned.
Caden passed numerous stations with signs out front reading, “No Gas.” The sun
was a yellow smudge on the horizon as he approached the Georgia border.
Rounding a corner, bright lights nearly blinded him and he slowed to a crawl. A
soldier stepped forward, his hand held out signaling Caden to stop.

Caden
rolled down his window as the man came alongside.

“
We’ve
set up a roadblock here. This county is now under
martial
law
and a
dusk to dawn curfew.”

Caden’s
confusion must have been apparent.

“
It’s
a precaution against looting and lawlessness.”