Cities on Fire Page 6

  “I’ll get right on it Senator.”

  “Now Senator O’Berg, I’m the Mayor of Lebanon, and I should give the direction and orders to my department heads.”

  “That would normally be correct; however, this is a national disaster, and as the highest ranking Federal Official I am taking charge of the recovery effort.”

  The Mayor shut up and sat down.

  “Now, Tom, close all stores, food warehouses, and restaurants until we can get an inventory of what food is available.

  Buck, have your men begin confiscating all semi-automatic pistols and rifles. For public safety, only hunting rifles and shotguns will be allowed to be in private hands in Wilson County. No one except County and City Officials will be allowed in town with firearms.”

  The Mayor spoke up, “Some of our citizens won’t like these orders. We don’t have the authority to take these actions.”

  “The Senator looked around the room and asked, “How many of you agree with the Mayor? Raise your hands.”

  “No one raised their hand.”

  “Mayor Jacobs. You are officially removed from office, and you must clear your personal possessions and go home.”

  “You can’t do this.”

  “I just did. Go!”

  “Paul, round up the ranchers and farmers and tell them that there will be a food shortage in a few weeks and we need them to step up production to feed this area. They must designate all of their food production to Wilson County until we have a surplus and can trade it for other things we need to survive.”

  The men around the Senator would normally be balking at this power grab and Federal intrusion on their County, but they had just seen their electricity go off, cars and electronic devices fail, and planes fall from the sky. They were scared, this man knew what to do in this crisis, and they fell in lock step with him.

  Senator Barry O’Berg was only a second term Democratic Senator who had moved to Lebanon eight years ago, but he had money and backing from the major money men in the Democratic party. He had already started his campaign for President, and most of the liberal media loved him. No one cared that he had ties to the Mob families in Chicago and New York or that his mentor was a radical terrorist from the ‘60s. He was truly a Teflon candidate. He promised free health care, no taxes for anyone but the wealthy, and a reduction in military spending.

  “Joan what the fuck is going on. Have you contacted my staff in DC or anyone in the military to see what happened?”

  “Senator, there are no communications with anyone. Your wife is driving the locals nuts with her demands to get back to DC.”

  “Well if we’re stuck here, I’ll just make the best of it. Tell Chris to join me in my office. Give my wife a bottle of vodka and some pills.”

  The Senator’s 27-year-old blonde trophy wife was as dumb as she was beautiful. He left his wife years ago for her when she was only 21 and a low-level clerk in his office. His wife caught them at a motel and threw him out. His daughter never forgave him, and she would not visit with him.

  The Senator cursed the world, the blackout, and the Russians because he knew they had to be behind this mess.”

  “Chris, get one of those old trucks and drive to Nashville and see if you can get us a flight back to DC. Try the Military if you have to.

  “Buck, send a couple of your Deputies up into Kentucky and see if you can find Maddie. She was on a field trip going to Mammoth Cave when the lights went out. I’m beside myself thinking the worse,” said the Senator.

  “Now Barry, you know my men don’t….”

  “Do you want to keep your job?”

  “Well, yes sir.”

  “Then get your fat ass in gear and find my wayward daughter. My Chief of Security would make a fine Sheriff don’t you think?”

  “No need of that. We’ll find a car that runs and fetch her down here in a New York minute.”

  Bob left and headed toward home when he remembered those Kroger and Walmart trucks dead on the highway. He drove home, hitched up his cargo trailer, and headed back to the vehicles taking care to drive around town. He also took a different route by Greg’s house so Greg wouldn’t see the trailer.

  The trucks were still there, and the drivers had left their loads. Most of the people stranded on the road were walking home or to their destination. There were only one or two walking by every now and then.

  He stopped behind a Walmart truck and backed his trailer up to the end of the semi-trailer. He cut the lock with bolt cutters and saw that the two end pallets were canned goods for the grocery department. He dropped box after box from the trailer down to the back of his trailer with many falling to the ground. He got down and started stacking the boxes in the front of his trailer.

  He was smiling ear to ear because he had hit pay dirt. The boxes contained everything from canned meat to pork and beans.

  He was busy stacking boxes when he heard, “Walmart won’t like you stealing their groceries.”

  He thought quickly and said, “I work for Walmart, and they sent me here to get as much as possible on this trailer and take it to the store in Lebanon. The bastards could have sent me some help. I’ll pay you with food if you help me load my trailer.”

  “Mister I just live a mile from here, and my son I will help you load this up if you will drop my son and me at my house with a small part of this food.”

  “Deal.”

  They worked for several hours until the trailer and pickup bed were full of boxes. Bob drove to the man’s house and helped him, and his son unload twenty boxes of food.”

  “Thanks, sir. Food will be scarce in a couple of days.”

  “I’m glad that you could help. Could you give me a hand again this evening? I’ll drop this trailer off and bring another.”

  “I’d be glad too, but won’t Walmart miss the food you gave me.”

  “Son, what we don’t take will be looted in two days.”

  “Then I’ll go back with my wheelbarrow and get some of the Kroger food.”

  “Have at it.”

  “Mister, if the Lebanon Walmart needed the groceries why is the truck headed away from Lebanon?”

  “That’s above my pay grade. I just lump boxes when they tell me to.”

  “Most box handlers don’t have a pistol on their hip and an assault rifle in the cab of their antique pickup.”

  “You got me there. I’ll pick you up about 4:00 pm.”

  “Okay. Hey, I’m Jack Fulkerson, and this is my son Tony. He and his family live next to us.”

  “I’m Bob. Please, ta’ meet ya. Hey, we’re having a meeting at the shelter to discuss the situation at 2:00. Why don’t you and Tony join us.”

  Bob looked at his watch and saw that it was 12:15 and thanked God he had one of the few windup watches left in the modern world. He had to be back in town for the meeting at 2:00 so he dropped the trailer in the barn, cleaned up, and ate some cold hotdogs and a beer for lunch. Then he drove back toward town and picked up Greg along the way into town. He parked in the parking lot to the shelter. He and Greg were amazed at the creativity in the types of vehicles parked in front of the shelter. There were bicycles, old cars, trucks, riding lawn mowers, and several horses.

  The folks were milling around, and it was evident that no one was leading the group.

  “Greg, you know these people. I think you should take charge until they figure out how to elect a leader.”

  “I don’t want to, but I think you are right,” he said and then raised his voice to say, “The meeting will come to order. I’m taking charge until you elect someone so we can get this show on the road.”

  They all sat down on the picnic tables and lawn chairs to listen to Greg. None complained about him taking leadership. Hell, they just wanted someone to tell them what to do.

  “Bob will start by telling us what happened.”

  Bob stood up and explained why their power, cars, and electronics failed, and then added, “I don’t know who or why we were nuked, but that is
what happened.

  Now we all need to band together to help keep our area secured and our families fed while we try to regroup from this disaster. There are a lot of things that have to happen during the next two days that will shape if we survive or die.”

  There were talking and arguing throughout the group until Bob rapped the butt of his .45 on a table.

  “I know that I am painting a pretty dire picture; however, this is a dire situation. We need to find clean drinking water, food, guns, and ammo to survive. I’ll go into more detail later, but you have to accept that we will work hard to get those items and someone else will try to take them away from us to feed their own families.

  Criminals, thugs, and God fearing people will kill you for a can of beans in two to four weeks. You must be ready to fight to keep what you have and to get what you need to survive. We need to put someone in charge of each of these vital duties.”

  All but a few of the people started to wander off and made comments that Bob was full of crap and the government would come to take care of them.

  Bob surprised the thirty some odd people that remained seated in the shelter by saying, “Good riddance to people that will either rob you or kill you later this month. Those folks will be just as dangerous as any criminal from the city that comes to rob you.”

  Greg replied, “Most of them are good people. I think you are judging them too harshly.”

  “I saw a few hard working people in the bunch, but I also saw a double hand full of Meth addicts, drug pushers, and lifetime welfare cheats. The people sitting here are mostly farmers, store owners or employed hard working people. Almost all of you live down in the bend where I live. We are protected by the river on three sides and can defend our people, food, and possessions.

  The shit hit the fan today. The Grid is down. In three days, the stores will be empty, a few days later the warehouses and trucks stalled on the roads will be looted. These people will be starving and come to your farms to take your food and your crops.”

  All of the people were shaking their heads in agreement, one stood up and asked, “What do we do to prepare?”

  “First there are three trucks full of food out on the highway that we need to go get and store in a safe place. I need half of you to go with me in your trucks to bring it back here. Second, Greg, you and Harold need to empty your stores of everything we need to survive and take it back to your homes or one of our barns. Third, Ned, bring several of those 500-gallon water tanks and some hand pumps to Harold’s gas station and fill everyone’s cars and trucks, and then fill the tanks and store them in a safe place. Fourth, always be armed and ready to defend yourselves. Fifth, I will work on training our security force and improve our overall security. Sixth, we need to elect a leader, a sheriff and find people with medical skills. And last, we’ll need to find a way to help pay Harold and Greg for what we use from their stores.

  That’s enough to get started.”

  “Bob, what if outsiders or those people come with guns to take our food?”

  Bob patted his .45 and said, “We are not going to let that happen. We will out think, out shoot and out survive any of those slackers.”

  ✼

  Chapter 4

  Day One – Complications

  Shorty was right about them drawing attention as they ran down the middle of Highway 65 South. They both had their running clothes on and stood out among the people stranded on the highway. Jo suggested that they put T-shirts over their running gear to hide the pistols, so they stopped and put them on to blend in a bit better.

  They stopped a couple of times to answer questions but quickly learned to keep running and ignore the stranded motorists. They talked some along the way, but Jo was focused on getting to her kids and mother as fast as possible.

  Her chest hurt like hell and every time she took a deep breath, it hurt worse. Both had a backpack with 25 pounds of gear and Bill was pushing the Ironman Jogging Stroller. She mentioned the pain to her husband, and he gave her a pain pill and a big gulp of water. That helped, and her mind was soon off the pain in her chest and back to worrying about the kids and her Mom.

  They had been running for four hours, and she felt better as the miles melted away. Her feet felt great, and she loved her Altra 4.0 Provision running shoes. They were expensive but well worth the extra dough. She had a pair of hiking boots in the stroller, but couldn’t run a mile in them without killing her feet.

  “Bill, did you tape your nips?”

  “You know I did. That hurts like hell when I run long distance if I don’t tape them. You didn’t forget did you with those big ones of yours?”

  “Hell yes. We were in a hurry, and now my nipples are starting to chafe.”

  “I’ve got a pack of Nipease. Let’s pull off in the bushes up ahead, and I’ll stick some on your tits.”

  “You haven’t paid much attention to my tits in a while. Why the interest now?”

  “I just wanted to be helpful. I’ve always liked your perky tits. I don’t want them rubbed raw.”

  They stopped behind the bushes, and she pulled her shirt up exposing her breasts to her husband who applied one of the clear bandages to each nipple before gently squeezing the right one.

  “The right one was always your favorite. Sorry, that’s all you get today, and I’ll be too damned bushed to fool around tonight.”

  They were still fresh and making about four miles an hour so, they decided to only take a quick rest at 24 miles and trudge on to the north side of Elizabethtown the first day. Jo calculated, in her mind, that they would stop at about 9:00 pm and set up camp for the night.

  She took over pushing the stroller at 20 miles and pushed it until they stopped. She had pushed all of her kids in strollers like this, but it had been years since Jake was small enough to push around in a stroller. It seemed much harder now than it did back then, but of course, she was getting older. She hated the getting older part of life.

  “Bill I think we can keep running until we run out of gas. It will be dark without the moon. Let’s see if we can get through Glasgow instead of stopping before the town.”

  “Okay if you let me push the stroller after we hit E-town.”

  They laughed and joked about running for their lives, pushing a stroller across the USA and a hundred other things as they chatted while jogging into E- Town. She found herself enjoying her husband’s company for the first time in a year. He had been very distant since he got jealous of her partner Walt. Bill didn’t know about Walt hitting on her, but somehow sensed Walt’s interest. He asked her to get another partner, and when she balked, he sulked for a while then acted as if he didn’t care.

  “Look up ahead there are several buildings on fire.”

  “Bill, they’re probably from a combination of airplane crashes and looting. You might have to use that gun you hate if someone tries to rob or kill us.”

  “I won’t kill anyone for taking stuff. I would never let someone harm you or the kids and would do my best not to harm them if I could.”

  Bill pushed the stroller, and they jogged on into E-Town until they saw Highway 210, which was the road to Glasgow. There wasn’t an exit, so Bill lifted the stroller over the concrete barrier and they carefully walked down the embankment to the road below and then headed south. They didn’t know it, but they were following the same route their kids and Jo’s Mom had taken that day.

  They had just merged onto Hodgenville Road when a woman came running out of a subdivision on their left yelling and waving at them.

  “Help! My daughter has been shot!”

  Jo replied, “Mam you need to find a Doctor.”

  Bill asked, “Where is she?”

  “A block and a half that way,” she pointed as she replied.

  “Come on Jo. I need to help her.”

  Jo looked disgusted but replied, “Who shot her and is he still in the area.”

  ‘It’s her boyfriend, and yes, he is in the house across the street robbing his dad.”


  They followed the woman to her house, and Jo made sure it was safe for Bill to enter before heading to the house across the street.

  Jo drew the Glock and cautiously walked up to the house. She peered into a bedroom window and saw a man tied up and gagged. He had a large hole in his head, and blood was everywhere. She went on to the living room window and carefully looked around the edge of the window. There was a young man with a gun trained on a woman and her young son. They were stuffing cash and other valuables into a pillowcase.

  Jo couldn’t shoot through the window for fear of the robber shooting his hostages or her bullet striking one of them. She thought that if she waited for him to leave that she could get a clear shot at him away from the hostages. She hid in the bushes for ten minutes and wondered why he hadn’t left. She snuck back to the window and saw the bastard was sitting on the couch eating a sandwich, and his hostages were bound and gagged on the floor.

  She noticed his pistol was beside his drink and decided to take a shot. She edged around to get her Glock in position, and the man reached for his pistol and stood up facing her. Jo shot, first, and glass exploded on her, as the bullet hit the man in the stomach. The man got off a wild shot that missed Jo. Jo shot again and hit the man in the center of his chest knocking him back down to the couch.

  Jo ran into the house and took the gun from the dead man’s hand. She checked his pulse and confirmed what her common sense told her. A shot near the heart and a shot to the stomach are not good for the human body. The scumbag was dead. Jo ran over to the woman, who was screaming and untied her.

  The woman almost knocked Jo down running to the robber. She grabbed him in her arms and cried, “My boy is dead. You bitch. You shot my son.”

  The woman tried to hit Jo, but Jo restrained her and tried to remind her that her son had killed her husband, shot a woman next door, and robbed her. The woman wouldn’t listen but finally calmed down enough so that Jo could untie her young son.