EMP 1500 MILES FROM HOME (11 page)

"Now you folks have a bite to eat," Myra, the rancher's wife said. "You must be hungry."

"Yes Ma'am, I am hungry," Julie said.

"Ma'am, we don't want to take anything from you that you might need."

She put her hand on my shoulder. "We get by pretty well out here. When we were first married, we hardly even went to the store. We grow our own beans and peppers, and we have chickens and plenty of beef. You folks just eat and relax."

"Yes Ma'am," Yeti said. "Thank you!"

And the food was good, really good. She served us beans cooked with chili peppers, fresh baked bread, and big thick steaks that melted in our mouths, as well as tall glasses of iced tea with real ice in them. I wondered how they managed the ice with no electricity. Mr. Cotter smiled as we dug in to the food.

When we were done eating, we profusely thanked the Cotter's. Julie and Yeti stayed in the kitchen to help Myra clean up. I went to the porch with Mr. Cotter. I brought the Mosin, and Mr. Cotter took a slab-sided 30-30 from behind the door and brought it along as well.

Julie

Myra smiled at me. "Is this your son, Julie?"

"No, but I wish he was." I put my hand on Yeti's shoulder. "He is a good boy."

"And Wayne isn't your man then? Surely he is the boy's father?"

"I wish he was my dad," Yeti said. "And I wish Julie was my Mom. They just found me on the highway a few days ago."

"Hmmm, I see," Mrs. Cotter Smiled. She looked me in the eye, "Well, Dear, there is always adoption. So, is Wayne your man then?"

I started to speak, but Yeti spoke first. "I think he is but he doesn't know it yet," Yeti smiled.

"You think so?"

"I am good at reading people. Wayne and Julie belong together. I hope I am there too."

"You are," I said.

"This doesn't surprise you then? You are setting your cap for Wayne?" Myra smiled.

"Do you remember my mother?"

"Yes, I do. I knew her quite well, and your grandmother as well."

"Did you ever hear my mother mention
The Knowing
?

"No, but your grandmother spoke of it."

"I have the ability too. It is not as strong as my mother's, but sometimes I know things ahead of time. I know that Wayne and I will be together as man and wife, but Wayne is already married. He has a wife and son in Indiana and he is determined to get back to them. He is also an honorable man. He hasn't suggested anything that leads me to believe he would be unfaithful to his wife."

"A good man, then."

"Yes."

"So Child, just relax. What will happen will happen."

"Should I do anything?"

Myra showed a crooked little smile. "My man needed some quiet encouragement to see that I was the one for him. We have been married 49 years now." She turned to Yeti. "Boy, this is woman's talk. You really shouldn't be listening to this."

"Don't worry Ma'am. I won't tell."

Wayne

"From what you told me Wayne, I thought I better keep this rifle handy from now on. I used to carry it everywhere with me, especially when we first started ranching. Things were wilder then. I guess they are again."

"Yes Sir," I agreed, "things are much wilder than I would have ever been able to imagine before the world ended."

"I think you mean the world changed, Son. It didn't end."

"Yes Sir, but for the majority of people this could be the end of their world. Folks who have studied this sort of thing have estimated that as much as 90 percent of the population will be dead just one year after the EMP."

"I agree the city folks may be in for some really hard times. I hate to think of all those people dying."

"So do I," I said. "So do I." It was then that we heard the faint sound of machine guns.

"That must be the army guys in the pass you mentioned. If they keep that up they will run out of ammunition fairly soon."

"You know about such things?" I asked."

"Well, I used to. I was in the Fifth Calvary in Vietnam," He paused and looked at me. "Have you ever been in service?"

"No Sir."

"Well, you didn't miss nothing. Besides, you may get a bigger dose of fighting on your way home then I got overseas."

"I hope not." We had not told the Cotters everything. It didn't seem right somehow to tell them the details of all the violence. I suspected Mr. Cotter knew without me saying anything though.

"I hope not too, Son."

Julie and Yeti accepted Mrs. Cotter's offer of beds to sleep in. The Cotters had two spare bedrooms and soon both were occupied. I spent several hours talking with Mr. Cotter after I stabled our horses in his barn. I also stashed our gear there.

I asked Mr. Cotter about what we would encounter as we moved toward Mountainair. He described the terrain, and suggested we travel through Abo canyon, which lay several hundred feet below the highway. He said it would be easier to hide from anyone on the highway, or the railroad tracks, and there were only a few ranches in the canyon.

Our conversation drifted to various things and it almost seemed as if the world might somehow be normal again, until we heard the vehicles anyway. Mr. Cotter sent me to the barn because he said my ragged suit and city shoes would be out of place. I climbed to the hayloft with the Mosin and settled in where I could cover Mr. Cotter.

Wayne

I could see the vehicles from the hayloft, a Humvee and a Jeep; most likely from the convoy we had seen. They pulled into the yard. When the dust settled I could see a uniformed soldier manning the 50-caliber machine gun on the Humvee. Four men got out of the vehicles. One had bars on his shoulder. An officer? I could hear what he said.

The Mosin was aimed at the officer's head, but if I fired, that 50-caliber would destroy the house and barn and probably kill everyone in them, as well as Mr. Cotter.

The officer said, "the United States is now under martial law. The military is in charge. That means I am in charge right now. All regular laws are suspended. You have only the rights I tell you that you have. The first order of business is that all guns are now illegal." The officer motioned to the 30-30 in Mr. Cotter's hand, "Give me that rifle."

Mr. Cotter complied, albeit slowly. The officer took the rifle and handed it to one of his men. "Do you have any other guns?"

"No," Mr. Cotter said, "that is the only one. Just something to keep varmints in check."

"You will manage without it," the officer said.

"Yes, Sir."

"Glad to see you are going to be reasonable."

"Yes Sir," Mr. Cotter said, "we just mind our own business out here."

"Good. Now you take a good look around the place. If you have any more firearms, or ammunition, you will give them to me when we return in two days. There is no penalty at that time. However, if I find you're holding something back at a later time, you will be declared an enemy of the state and executed."

"Yes Sir, there will be no problems."

"Do you raise cattle?"

"Yes, we have a few head."

"Have three cows in this yard when we return in three days. We will require them to feed the troops."

"Yes Sir," Mr. Cotter said. I was sure the smile was still on his face while he was being told he was going to be robbed of more than three thousand dollars worth of beef.

"Another thing," the officer said.

"Yes Sir?"

"No travel is allowed. You are to shelter in place. Anyone caught traveling the highways will be executed."

"Yes Sir," Mr. Cotter said. Without a word, the soldiers got back in their vehicles and left.

When I reached his side, Mr. Cotter was cussing. "God damned sons of bitches. Who the fuck do they think they are? Fucking dictators?"

I was surprised by Mr. Cotter's language, but I shouldn't have been. I was thinking the same things, although perhaps with a bit less profanity.

Mr. Cotter and I retired to the barn. Julie soon joined us. Yeti was still asleep. Mr. Cotter filled Julie in on what happened.

"Those fucker's don't know who they’re messing with," he said.

"I take it you are not going to go along with their demands."

"Hell no. This is the United States of America, not some stupid third world country."

"What do you want to do?" I asked.

"Kill every one of those sons of bitches, of course. They have no right to do what they are doing."

"How do you think it can be done?"

"I am not sure yet. We will figure something out."

"We?"

"They are even more of a threat to you than us. They won't let you travel home."

"OK, I am in."

"Me too," Julie said. "I want to know if my dad is OK."

We spent the night planning. By morning Mr. Cotter had what we thought was a workable plan. That Mr. Cotter was a sneaky old bastard. He reminded me of Cap.

I thought about Mr. Cotter's plan for a while. It might just work. Apparently these Vietnam vets were some cagy old coots. Maybe they had to be to survive back in the day, and maybe they got that way after they came home?

And what if those guys in the pass were real US soldiers? What if martial law had been declared? Well the US of A was a big country. There was no way the government had enough troops to force martial law on the entire country, even if the military brought all of our troops home from around the world.

And then there was the fact that someone had fired off multiple nuclear bombs high in the atmosphere over the US. Who were the perpetrators? Was it an enemy country? Did we retaliate? Were we going to be invaded? Was it our own corrupt government that did this? These were questions that I would have liked to have answers to. Sooner or later the truth would come out.

I thought about the soldiers who showed up at the ranch. They were wearing uniforms, but, other than rank, I saw no insignias on their sleeves, nor on the vehicles. The soldiers, including the officer, seemed nervous to me, but none had shown any concern for Mr. Cotter's plight, nor had they volunteered any information beyond their own agenda. The soldiers were all young, but so it has ever been. The youth of nations fight and die for those who would enrich themselves. I heard much about this from Cap, and, after studying the history of war a bit, I believed him.

But now the task at hand was to remove these soldiers so they would not be able to bother the people in the region. I wondered what else we would run into on the road home, and how we would respond? It was a question that deserved a lot of study.

Yeti

I knew something was up when I walked into the kitchen. I slept like the dead for I don't know how long. The bed felt like heaven.

I have heard people say that fat people, with all their padding, have an easy time of it if they have to sleep on the ground. When I was 13, I decided to sleep on the ground to see if this was true, so I snuck out and slept in the yard. I was so stiff and sore when I woke up that I could hardly move. I lurched into the kitchen for breakfast covered with grass stains. Of course I chose the only patch of grass in the entire yard to sleep on, Mrs. Prim's pride and joy, other than her flowers. I managed to roll over on a few of those as well. New Mexico is always short on rain and keeping a patch of grass and a flowerbed in good shape is a real chore.

Mrs. Prim was a nickname. She had many other nicknames as well, none of which I will repeat now.

The other children laughed when I staggered into the kitchen. I was made to do without breakfast for disobeying the rules and damaging the flowers. As often as I disobeyed the rules, you would think I would have been thin, but I wasn't. I was too good at acquiring food from other sources.

In any event, after the sleeping in the grass incident, I read up on physics and calculated the effect of weight and padding. It turned out that my weight to padding ratio was far too high for comfort and that most normal-sized people had a much lower weight to padding ratio. That is why I luxuriated in the Cotter's bed for so long. It eased my sore muscles and bones.

"What's up?" I asked Julie, who I was now thinking of as Mom, but I didn't have the courage to call her Mom yet.

"Hi Yeti. Did you sleep well?" I nodded my head. "We had a visit from the folks in the pass today."

"The ones with the machine guns?"

"Yeah. Wayne and Mr. Cotter are out in the barn discussing it right now."

"I will go to the barn and listen, if that is OK?"

"Eat something first," Julie said. "Mrs. Cotter baked some cookies this morning."

My mouth watered when I thought about the cookies but I said, "Thanks, but I will pass. I am not hungry." I hoped she didn't hear my stomach growling as I walked through the door.

Julie

I finally got Wayne to take a nap about 3:00 AM. He was so tired he could hardly walk. I had to promise I would wake him as soon as Mr. Cotter was awake. I got his shoes and socks off of him and got him out of his shirt before he rolled over and fell sound asleep. I covered him with a blanket and then crawled into bed beside him.

I couldn't sleep. I worried about what would happen with the army types with the machine guns. I don’t want to lose Wayne and I don't want to lose Yeti, although maybe they won’t let Yeti be involved since he was so young. Down deep I don’t think Mr. Cotter's plan will really work. I don't see how a handful of men can overcome those army guys with just a few old rifles.

I also worried about my dad and how he was doing on the ranch. It was a difficult time until I finally fell asleep just before dawn. When I woke, Wayne was gone and I was covered with the blanket.

Wayne

Mr. Cotter rode away from the ranch house the next morning. I offered to go along but he said he was going to talk to a few local ranchers, and that they might be wary of strangers, especially ones wearing the rags of a city suit.

"So," I asked, "was the 30-30 your only rifle?"

"Yes, it was."

"Wait here a minute, please," I high-tailed it to the barn and back.

Mr. Cotter smiled when I handed him the long-barreled 30-30 and a box of cartridges from our gear. "This will do nicely. Thanks, Wayne." The gun fit the saddle scabbard like it was made for it. "I was going to borrow a rifle from one of the neighbors."

"Keep it. It is yours," I said.

Before evening, Mr. Cotter rode in with two older men. They all had the same hard, weather-beaten look, so I assumed they were ranchers. After the horses were rubbed down, fed, and put away, Mr. Cotter did the introductions. The rancher's names were Rodriguez and Walters.

Mr. Walters, a tall rangy man, dug into his saddlebags. He handed a few items to me. "I think these will fit you, though the jeans may be a might short. These were my boy's. He was about your size."

"Was?" I asked.

"We lost him in the Gulf War."

"I am sorry to hear that." And I was sorry. I didn't like the fact that our leaders seemed to think that they could use our soldiers to fight foreign wars for the profit of a few. Cap said, since there was no threat to the US here at home, we had no legal right to enter these wars. I wasn't a lawyer, but I agreed with Cap that our resources would have been better used here at home to build prosperity. I often wondered what great things all of the soldiers who died would have done had they lived.

"Thank you very much!" My suit pants had seen better days. It was a lightweight suit and the pants were torn in several places, as was my once white shirt, which, of course, had a bullet hole and blood stains at the shoulder, which only added to the mess.

Myra, with Julie's help, dressed my shoulder soon after I arrived, and both declared it to be healing well. Myra said the mountain air had a lot to do with that. She also said if I had been in the city, it would have been infected by now. She was probably right.

The jeans fit well, and were only an inch too short. The shirt was a bit too large around my waist and a bit tight over my shoulders. It was a checkered red flannel. Julie told me that, for the first time since we met, I looked human.

The next morning five more grizzled old men rode in on horseback. All but one were armed, and there was a set, determined look on their faces. Mr. Cotter again made the introductions and we all crowded into the kitchen for a strategy session.

"Did you bring the arsenic?" Mr. Cotter asked. There were a series of nods around the kitchen.

"I brought the strychnine too. I reckon these folks be the same as wolves."

"Not real Americans, that's for sure. Real Americans don't stomp on other people's rights."

"Just a bunch of thugs, uniforms or not. One of my ranch hands rode up into the pass looking for strays a few days ago. He said the soldiers were killing anyone they saw on the road. He watched as some poor folks in an old car were shot to pieces. They didn't even warn them."

"Where is your man?" I asked.

"At the ranch. They got a bullet in him too."

"Is he going to make it?"

"Not sure. Hope so, but likely not."

After an hour or so of general discussion, we began working out the details of the campaign. The soldiers would be back soon enough for the cattle, if they did what they said they would anyway.

The old cowboys all rode out together. In a few hours they were back with three steers. The afternoon was an old time gabfest, if you could call anything those laconic ranchers said gab.

First thing the next morning five of the men began butchering the three steers. I could tell they were experienced. They were quick, efficient, and worked well together, the result perhaps of years of annual barbecues, or the like. In less than four hours, they had the beef skinned and cut up into chunks that looked like what you would buy in a butcher shop.

Then they mixed the arsenic and strychnine into solution and began injecting each chunk of meat. They were very thorough. This was one group of old men that I did not want to piss off. It was also a lesson for the road; a road home that had darker potential than I ever could have imagined.

By the time the soldiers arrived the next day, we were well hidden. There were ten rifles covering them. If the uniformed idiot's even looked like they were going to try something, they would be dead in short order, 50-caliber machine gun or not. Instead they took the meat while laughing at how cowardly the old man was to butcher it for them too.