EMP 1500 MILES FROM HOME (17 page)

"I think it is time then. I told Julie we should wait a few days, but I guess it is time. We will put together a search party and make straight for Ambrose's ranch. We will find him, Son. We will find him."

"Do you have any topographic maps of the area?" I asked.

"Yes, we have a collection that covers the ranch and most of the county."

"May I see them?"

"Sure, they are in the closet in my office. They are rolled in map tubes. Just clear off my desk and lay out the ones you want."

"When will we leave?"

"In the morning. I will tell Julie and ask a couple of the ranch hands to go with us."

"You are going?"

"Yes Yeti, I am going. I like Wayne too."

Julie

After Dad told me about going to look for Wayne in the morning, I felt better. It is always better to be doing something. I got my gear together and decided to add two small pistols to my usual carry of one A4 carbine, and a 38 special revolver. I rummaged through the guns that Wayne, Yeti, and I collected and chose a small 9mm that held 7 rounds. I used an inside-the-waistband holster of Dad's and stuck that one in the small of my back. I didn't see another small pistol I wanted, so I went to Dad's gun room. Unlike most folks, Dad had a gun room instead of a gun cabinet. From there I chose a .32 Colt auto that Dad used to teach me to shoot when I was ten. I put an elastic bellyband holster on under my shirt and tucked the pistol into it, with two spare magazines.

After I had the rest of my gear piled on my bed, I went looking for Yeti. I found him at the kitchen table studying maps, lots and lots of maps. He looked up when I walked into the kitchen.

"It didn't feel right using your dad's desk."

"That's OK, Yeti," I said. "I want to talk to you about the search for Wayne tomorrow."

"OK," Yeti looked up from the map.

"I think we should carry some hideout guns. I have a bad feeling that something happened to Wayne."

"Do you think we will get him back?"

I looked inward for
The Knowing
, afraid of what I would find. After a while, I got a picture of Wayne and I, with three young children playing at our feet, and Yeti, an older boy, and girl standing next to us. I studied Wayne to see if he had lost any limbs, but he looked fine, except for his eyes. They had a damaged, far-away look in them. My heart went cold. My mother told me, that, in
The Knowing
, that look meant great hardship and deprivation.

"I think we will get him back, but I don't think he is in a good situation."

Yeti stood. "Well let's get some more guns then."

I took Yeti to my dad's gun room. Yeti looked around in amazement. I think my dad had over 100 guns and they were all displayed on wall racks above base cabinets below. The drawers in the cabinets contained ammunition, extra magazines, and other things, many of which I knew nothing about. About then my dad walked in, probably because the door was open. He and I had the only keys to the gun room.

"What's up?" he asked.

"I think we need to carry some concealed pistols on the trip tomorrow," I said.

"Well, leave a few for the rest of us." My dad smiled and left the room. He was the quintessential rancher. He always had a rifle in a scabbard on his horse, or before the End of the World, in a rack in the pickup. The only pistol he would carry, then or now, was an old single-action sixgun that had belonged to his grandfather.

Yeti looked around and chose three older, well-maintained .45 autos, and a handful of magazines for them. "These will do nicely," He said.

"You can conceal those big pistols?" I asked.

"On me they won't even be noticeable," Yeti smiled. "No problem."

We spent some more time planning the expedition in the morning. I had trouble falling asleep that night, but I was up and ready to go before anyone else. Yeti showed up in the kitchen only five minutes after I did, so I made him some breakfast.

Wayne

We were halfway through our shift when the guards collected the tools and ushered us out of the mine. None of the others looked more worried than usual. I had no idea what this was about. I soon found out.

The guards made us line up and go to our knees while they stood behind us with their rifles. Soon a buggy pulled up. A well-dressed man got out of the buggy and stood before us. He was medium height and had empty eyes. Some characters in books I read were described as having empty eyes. I never had a clue what that meant before. Now I did. It was immediately obvious to me that there was something different about this man's brain. He seemed human from a distance, but up close I wasn't sure what he was.

"You slaves, have you found my gold yet?"

Dave said, "no Master. We have found no gold yet, but there are signs we are getting closer to the vein." All I had seen was the same old plain rock that we were digging through. I assumed Dave was lying to the man, obviously the one they called the Boss. The man took Dave at his word. He didn't ask to look at any rock samples and didn't ask Dave what the signs of nearness to the vein might be. Because he asked no more questions, I assumed he did not know much about mining, nor did he seem very bright.

That rang alarm bells in my mind. Cap once told me that the most dangerous of all men was one who had power and was too stupid to understand what was going on around him. To me, that sounded a lot like all of Congress—and this guy.

"You there. Stand up." I realized the Boss was pointing a finger at me so I stood. I slouched a bit as usual. "Stand up straight." I stood straight; after all, he had the guns. "You are a big one," the Boss said. "But I think Max is bigger.” The Boss waved his hand and a guard I had not seen before appeared.

The guard, who was a big brown-skinned guy, walked over to where I was standing. We looked each other eye to eye. He was very big, as tall as I was, and outweighed me by at least seventy pounds. There was something about his expression that seemed out of place. He seemed tough, probably as tough as anyone I ever met, but he didn't seem mean. His eyes had a mischievous twinkle. Unlike the Boss's eyes, they were far from dead. He had his back to the Boss and he smiled while shaking his head side to side very slightly. I took that to mean I shouldn't smile.

The Boss walked over to where we stood. One of the guards brought a stepladder and the Boss climbed up on the second rung. "I'll be damned, the slave is about a half inch taller than Max. I would not have believed it." The boss stepped down from the ladder. "I would love to see you two fight." I thought I saw as much alarm in Max's expression as I felt.

"Boss," Max said, "if you are going to get your gold out of the mine, you need this man alive. I think he can do the work of any three slaves you have."

The boss held his chin in his hand. He seemed drawn between gold and bloodshed. "OK, Max. I want that gold very much. It will allow me to buy a penthouse in New York City." The Boss got back in his buggy and motioned for the driver to start. I watched as he drove away. The man was insane. The last place I would want to be right now was New York City. The death rate there must be horrendous since the EMP.

After the buggy was out of sight, the guards gave us our tools and sent us back to work. I had just grabbed my shovel when a hand on my shoulder stopped me. I turned. It was Max. He had a rifle like all of the other guards, but it wasn't pointed at me. "Let's talk for a bit," he said.

"OK." One of the other guards motioned for me to hand him the shovel but Max shook his head. I followed Max to a shady spot outside the mine. He motioned for me to sit down. I leaned the shovel against the twisted little tree and sat. Max leaned his rifle against the tree and sat across from me.

"What's your name?"

"Wayne."

"What's your last name?"

"Zane."

"No shit?"

"No shit."

"Well, don't feel too bad. My full name is Felix Maximillion Taai."

"Oh man, that must have been rough."

"Yeah, some parents are goofs when it comes to baby names." Max smiled and reached out to shake my hand. We shook hands. He had a firm, but not overbearing handshake.

"Max," I asked. "What is going on here?"

"To tell you the truth, I am not really sure. I was captured two days after the power went out, just like most of the men here. The Boss has about eight men who are always close to him. They are very dangerous men, gang members I think—anyway, they have gang tattoos. They, and the desert out there, keep guard on the guards."

"How can they do that?" I asked. "You have rifles."

"Yeah, we have rifles, but there are only two bullets in each rifle. The Boss's men are armed with full auto rifles and machine guns.

"Then the guards are as much prisoners as the rest of us."

"Pretty much, though most are not what I would call nice men."

"So why are you a guard?"

"I think it is because of my size. I don't know why he didn't make you a guard too."

"How can you get away with talking with me? Won't one of the Boss's true believers say something to him?"

"They would, but none of them are here right now. Wayne, I was a dockworker in Mobile, Alabama. I was driving out to my sister's funeral in California when the power went out. I don't know anything about the desert. This is my first time west of the Mississippi River. I would escape if I knew how."

"I was a salesman seeing a client in Socorro, a town south and west of here, I think. I am from Indiana. I have a wife and child there."

"You are lucky," Max said. "My wife died two years ago from ovarian cancer. We never had any kids. My sister was my last living relative in the States."

"I am sorry to hear that, Max."

"Wayne, do you know anything about desert survival?"

"I am no expert, but my pa-in-law, who is a survivalist, taught me a lot."

"Do you think you could get us out of here?"

"With water, I think so. We will have to walk unless we can find some darn big horses. We both weigh too much for a standard-sized horse."

"Yeah, life is tough when nothing is built to fit you."

"Amen, Brother," I said. "Max, I had best get back to work so we don't arouse too much suspicion. Some one might tell the Boss."

"OK, Wayne, we will talk again. Let me know what we will need and I will see what I can find."

"Will do. I want to take Dave with us too."

"The dwarf? I like him. That sounds fine to me."

I went back to work and Max took up his position as a guard. The other guards seemed a little afraid of him and he didn't talk to any of them. I took a place by Dave and started shoveling tailings into the cart.

"Had a little break, huh Big Fellah?"

"Yeah. Look Dave, would you like to break out of here?"

"Dave looked me in the eye for only a second before saying, "you bet your ass, but don't talk here."

The rest of the day was long, hot, and tiring but my hopes were up and I didn't notice, well not as much anyway. For some reason I trusted Dave and Max. Maybe it was the fact that they both, like me, were misfit to the world of normal people.

There is a bond that often develops between people who are on the tails of a normal distribution. One of my hobbies is studying people. Over the years I have noticed several unusual friendships. One of the guys I grew up with is wicked smart, maybe even smarter than Yeti. He is now a physics professor, before the EMP anyway, and his best friend is a retarded guy on the janitorial staff. I have seen friendships between very thin and very fat people, between very tall and very short people, as well as many other combinations. I think what makes friendships like those so strong is that the people involved, because of the problems they have faced, tend to be very accepting of anyone who differs greatly from the norm.

I was pleased that I might have found two friends. Growing up, it was difficult for me to make friends. I counted Cap a friend, as I did Lucy, of course. Since the EMP, I had Julie and Yeti as trusted friends and now it looked like I might have two more. So far I had made more friends since the EMP than in my entire previous lifetime.

I slept well that night, in spite of my aching muscles and lingering headache. As I followed the rest of the guys out of the building the next morning, three men seized me roughly from behind. They tied my hands and feet and ordered the slaves to put me in the back of the wagon. In the wagon I found Max lying bound and helpless. Things were not looking up.

Wayne

When they dragged us out of the wagon I saw a row of tin boxes built with the sides touching. It looked like we were in for the sweat, or hot, box treatment. I sure was glad it was December because the sun wasn't nearly as hot as in the summer. The average daily high was about 40 degrees and the lows were usually above 20 degrees. The hardest part would be staying warm. I mentally revised my estimate. We were in for the cold box treatment.

They put us each into a box. The boxes looked to have been built in a hurry by people who either didn't care or didn't know what they were doing. Each box was a four-foot-cube. I found a seat against one wall and rubbed my wrists where the rope had chafed them. When I heard the wagon leave, I spoke to Max.

"Hey Max, are you OK?"

"Yeah Wayne, I'm OK."

"What happened?"

"I guess somebody tattled on us."

I looked around the cube. There was enough light filtering in through the cracks that I could see fairly well. I could see that the tin on the outside walls and on the roof was inside the 2x4 framing, but the tin on my right was on the opposite side of the two by fours. Max was in the cell on my left.

I put my feet against the tin on my right and pushed. It wasn't too difficult to pop the tin loose and push it into the next cell. I then broke the vertical 2x4s out of the way with a few kicks. I told Max what I had done and moved into the next cell. In a few minutes Max had kicked the wall tin from his cell into the one I had occupied. Soon the vertical 2x4s were down and we had a space about 12 feet long (except for the tin and boards we piled at one end), four feet wide, and four feet high.

"I think we can break out of this thing," I said.

"No problem," Max said. "We better wait until night though. The guards will send a few patrols by during the day. They might give us some water if the Boss's crew isn't with them. Nobody comes out here at night though.”

"Sounds good to me."

We talked a bit, planning what we were going to do when we got out of the box. Then we both stretched out and got some sleep. No one gave us any water, although we heard guards once in the afternoon.

Yeti

I am getting the hang of this riding stuff. The big workhorse under me doesn't seem to mind my weight a bit. I like Bootsie and I have been giving him a couple of carrots from George’s root cellar every day for a while now. I have also been teaching him various commands. He has several down pat already. He is a good horse and he seems to like me as much as I like him.

Hiding the extra pistols was easy. I used a couple of extra holsters and some straps I found in the barn to make myself a pair of shoulder holsters that I wore under my now baggy coat. The third pistol I strapped to my right ankle. In addition to the three pistols, I carried another .45 semi-auto on my right hip, and an A4 carbine with a 100 round drum magazine that I found in George's gun room. I had six more 30 round magazines in pouches on my belt. I felt like Blackbeard the Pirate, with his braces of pistols and sword, ready to board a ship and fight hand to hand. Of course, I wasn't sure I really wanted to do that. It was just the way I felt.

As we rode along, I watched the terrain around us and studied it for points of possible ambushes, or sniper positions. It played in my head like a video game, almost without thought. My mind was free to roam. I thought of many things, but mostly I kept wondering what happened to Wayne.

In many ways, since the EMP, we had reverted to an older time. In other ways we were still modern. I wondered what would happen in the years to come if the electricity never came back on. Would there be enough people who had the knowledge and the ability to create another electrical power grid? Maybe on a local scale, but creating another continental-scale grid would likely take several generations, or more, even using parts of what remained from the old grid.

And how would the people change. Surely many would die. Those who were too sick, or incapacitated, were most likely already dead. Others, many, many others, would be unable to cope. Too used to having everything done for them, they would be helpless. They didn't even know how to fight for what they wanted. They would lose resources to more talented people who wished to survive and fought for what they needed. It seemed to me that we were once more entering the world of the alpha male, at least for a time.

I read archaeology and anthropology for fun, just like I read physics, mathematics, chemistry, biology, and engineering textbooks for fun, ever since I found my first college textbook when I was five in an old trunk in the attic. Yeah, I am weird, strange, different, a geek, a nerd—whatever you want to call me. I have heard all the names many times. But reading is interesting and my readings in archaeology and anthropology seemed to have a bearing on the future of people after the EMP.

The earliest settlers of the Americas, more than 12,000 years ago, were a wild bunch. They were more robust than modern day Indians. They had thicker skulls, heavier brow ridges, wider shoulders, and a more developed musculature, but were about the same height. They were rooting tooting all around tough guys. The anthropological evidence shows they fought a lot, hand to hand, with each other—not in wars. It was the time of the alpha male who took by force what he wanted. The women were significantly smaller then they are today and were abused and often malnourished. The women seldom lived past the age of 26. I don’t think I would like any of those guys if I met them today. After the EMP, I might even feel justified in shooting them—and some of my ancestors were American Indians, so some of the wild ones were probably ancestors of mine as well.

But, over time, these supercharged alpha males vanished. They vanished because other people, the beat upon, finally got fed up and cooperated to get rid of them. Thus the modern Indian developed, a he-man yes, but far more gentle, loving, and civilized than his far ancestors.

And that would happen again after the EMP. At first the super alpha males with psychopathic tendencies would be able to control some small, and maybe some not so small, groups of people. But finally, cooperation by good people would see them once more wiped off the land and more of this evil would vanish from the gene pool.

I could see that the time after EMP might someday be referred to as 'The Great Cleansing', a time when good, strong, cooperative people took back the land and the incapable, the psychopaths, and the just plain evil died or were killed off. I thought that might take several generations, but that much of it would be accomplished within my lifetime, if I were fortunate enough to live a long life.

I am thinking about going into Mountainair to recruit some men to help with the search for Wayne. I don't know how to feed them, but maybe George can suggest a way. Maybe he will even donate a few head of cattle to the cause.

Julie thinks Wayne must be hurt and I think that is a possibility, but I think it is more likely he has been detained against his will. There were some very evil people around before the EMP but the threat of the law kept most of them at least somewhat in check. Now that there is no law, these people must be going wild and trying to fulfill their every fantasy and wish. I worried that Wayne may have run into one or more of them.

George said, if I am going to go looking for Wayne, that I need to be able to shoot better. I agree, but it is my intention to avoid trouble by being careful, and having a stronger gang, for lack of a better word. But I am taking George up on his offer to teach me to shoot. George is a good shot and has provided several thousand rounds of practice ammunition. I don't think I will need that many rounds, but I have been wrong before.

Wayne

After dark we both braced ourselves on our backs, on top of a pile of the tin and 2x4s we liberated from the inside walls, and pushed the roof off with our feet. It was easy. We left the area quickly. I located the North Star and we headed west since Max said the Boss's headquarters was to our east and the mine was to our west. We planned on breaking Dave out at the mine in the morning.

We made it to the mine well before daylight and chose picks from the tool pile. The tools were just left out in the open in a pile. Again, a sign that either no one knew what they were doing, or they just didn't care. Sounded a bit like the federal government to me.

Once inside the mine, we removed the heads from our picks, and kept the handles as clubs. We were in position when the guards arrived to set up the meal for the slaves. We waited until the slaves went deeper into the mine to start their work. Then we each knocked out a guard, took a rifle, and got the drop on the other two guards. Max tied them up while I held a rifle on them. It was over without a shot being fired.

We gathered the rifles and found Dave. He was ready to go. We gathered up as many useful items as we could find. We had five rifles and ten bullets. All the rifles were 30-30s. In that we were lucky. We stripped the rounds from the two extra rifles and loaded them in the three rifles we kept. Dave and Max had three rounds apiece and I had four. For sure, we were not ready for a war.

The rest of the slaves scattered into the desert as fast as they could run. Max managed to get several plastic gallon jugs of water and Dave took the guard's lunches, which they carried in a motley mix of containers. We hightailed it into the desert only a couple of minutes after the rest. We went north, because we thought that would be the way that the Boss and his crew would be the least likely to look.

We traveled two hours on foot before we heard it. We all looked to the rear at the same time. "Shit," Max said, and then some words in a language I didn't know. It was a pair of Humvees on our trail. One of them appeared to have a 30-caliber machine gun mounted on the roof.

"Just where the hell are these things coming from?" I asked.

"Probably from White Sands Missile Range south of here," Dave replied as we ran for cover.

Julie

We arrived at Ambrose's ranch. He greeted us as we rode into the ranch yard. I asked, "is Wayne here?" even before anyone exchanged greetings.

"I haven't seen him. He was supposed to drop by but he hasn't been here yet."

I slumped in my saddle, a cold mantle of worry weighing me down. I didn't even hear the greetings as all the men shook hands. I searched for
The Knowing
but got nothing. It was completely gone for the moment. I was devastated. I couldn't think. Yeti encouraged my dad to immediately turn around and backtrack to see if we could find any sign of Wayne. I followed without saying a word.

I knew I was in love with Wayne, but I had no idea how deeply his loss might affect me until now. Was this what it felt like when someone loses a spouse—or is it much worse because more time with someone you love just makes you want even more?

Wayne

The Humvees were coming fast. We looked for an escape. I saw a deep arroyo about a hundred yards to our right. I shouted and we all ran for it. Dave was moving as fast as he could but Max was moving faster so he just picked Dave up and brought him along. I slid down the almost vertical wall of the arroyo and turned just in time to slow Dave's descent. Max was right behind us. We sprinted down the arroyo and around a bend. With a push from Max, I climbed the opposite side of the arroyo. He pushed Dave up the slope and I dragged him the rest of the way. Max jumped and caught my hand. I started sliding from Max's weight when Dave caught my leg. Max managed to scramble up with our help and we ran for a low hill that would give us some cover.

I motioned for the others to stay below the top of the hill as I crawled upwards to find a vantage point. With just my head showing next to a rock that I thought might help hide me, I looked for the Humvees. They were stopped where we entered into the arroyo. I slid the 30-30 into position. It was a hundred yard shot with a rifle I had never fired. Darn, I seemed to be making a few shots like that lately.

I fired and missed. The bullet struck about six inches to the right of the machine gunner. I immediately corrected my aim and fired again. The bullet struck the machine gunner just as he fired a burst that only missed me by seven feet. I slid back down the hill as the machine gunner collapsed. I had two rounds left in the 30-30.

We hunkered down behind the hill and looked around. I knew that the Humvees, as good as they were off road, could not cross the arroyo here. It was too deep. However, it would be an easy matter for them to backtrack and find a place where they could cross.

About then the machine gun started firing. We could see the dirt fly on top of the hill. Both sides of the hill were covered by the machine gun. The only way to go seemed to be behind us. I looked back and saw that the ground sloped up behind us to an even taller hill. We were pinned down.

We heard the other Humvee drive away, most likely looking for a way to cross the arroyo.

"Looks like we are pinned down," I said.

"No shit?" Max said.

"Let me crawl around a bit. I have an idea," Dave said. We watched as Dave crawled away from the hill. After a bit we couldn't see him any more.

"The little fellow can hide better than us," Max grinned.

"Yeah, maybe he will make it if we can't."

"Max nodded. "That would be good, but I am not ready to give up."