Radioactive and The Decay Dystopian Super Boxset- A Dirty Bomb and Nuclear Blast Prepper Tale of Survival (34 page)

“So is this your operations center?” Jordan asked Carlie.

She walked past Jordan and approached the man standing before them.

“Hey, Sheriff, we have some new visitors.”

The Sheriff turned around, surprised, with a quick glance at Carlie, and then at the group she had brought in. He had bags under his eyes and rough stubble on his cheeks. His white hair was neatly trimmed. He spoke into Carlie’s ear for a brief moment and walked over to greet the new arrivals, beginning with Jordan.

“Hi, I’m the Sheriff, nice to meet you.”

“Likewise, my name is Jordan.”

Paul then shook the Sheriff’s hand introducing himself. Jordan leaned toward Paul and spoke quietly.

“He refers to himself in third person as the Sheriff? This is ridiculous.”

Paul nodded along innocently as he gave the Sheriff a smile. The Sheriff looked at Julie.

“Well, hi there, little lady. You sure look tired. Perhaps we can find you a bed so you can get some rest.”

Julie looked at the Sheriff curiously.

“I’m not tired,” she said.

The Sheriff took her hand and lightly shook it.

“Nice to meet you. What’s your name?” he asked.

“Julie, what’s yours?”

“Around here, I’m known as the Sheriff.”

“No, I mean like your real name,” Julie said.

“That’s the only name I go by nowadays, it helps people remember me,” he said with a smile.

“You must really hate your real name then,” she said.

“Julie!” Paul interrupted.

The Sheriff stood back and laughed.

“That’s quite alright; I think this one’s just a little bit tired.”

He looked to Carlie. “Carlie, could you take Julie and find her a nice bed she can sleep in? I believe there’s a room in the townhouse.”

Julie took Paul’s hand, which surprised him. “I’m not going anywhere,” she said.

“Julie, it’s okay. These people are our friends,” Paul said, though he wasn’t entirely sure, himself.

Everyone seemed nice, despite any moodiness from Paul’s group, and he wanted to talk with the Sheriff to find out the latest news. For starters, he could verify what Jordan had been telling him. He wished that none of it were true. However, in Beech Creek, he had seen the mushroom cloud with his own eyes. There was no denying it. Carlie walked up to Julie and took her hand.

“Come on, sweetheart, let’s get some sleep and then you can have a big breakfast in the morning.”

The prospect of a breakfast was enough for Julie. She walked with Carlie out of the room.

“Goodnight, Julie,” Paul said.

“Where are they taking her?” Jordan asked.

“Relax, Jordan,” Paul said.

He had grown to find Jordan’s paranoia irritating.

“She’ll be right next door,” the Sheriff said. “Now I don’t want to hold you gentlemen up much longer, you should get some rest too, but I do have questions for you, just as I assume you have some questions for me.”

“There’s no shortage of questions on our end,” Paul said.

“Let’s sit down a moment and have a little chat then,” the Sheriff said.

They agreed as the Sheriff led them through the operations room into a small, unfurnished office with three chairs and a table in the middle. There was a coffee pot in the corner resting on a stool.

“Would either of you like a cup of coffee?” the Sheriff asked.

Both Paul and Jordan enthusiastically accepted. The Sheriff filled two small paper cups with coffee and handed them over.

“It was made about an hour ago, a little cold now, I’m afraid.”

Paul sipped the coffee, not seeming to mind.

“Have a seat,” he said.

They pulled out two chairs and sat.

Chapter Six

Survivalism

“This town used to be called Old Haven,” the Sheriff said.

A kerosene lamp sat on the table between them. The Sheriff turned the key to brighten the flame. His deep blue eyes examined Paul and Jordan, trying to identify them as friend or foe.

“Is that what this is?” Jordan asked. “A town?”

“This is part of the town. Where we sit now, what lies within these gates, is what used to be called Pine Creek, a gated community. We’ve renamed it New Haven, because we’re making a new town. I guess you could say we’re hunkering down ‘till things get better. As a general rule, we don’t turn anyone away, unless, of course they wish us harm.”

Paul had been silent long enough. “What have you heard on the news? You must have heard something. How many are dead? I mean, I see you have power around here. Do you have Internet as well? What are they saying on television?”

The Sheriff raised a hand in the air. “Easy there, Paul. I’ll answer all of your questions the best I can in due time. But I’ve got a couple of questions of my own.”

“If you’re a sheriff, where’s the rest of your task force?” Jordan asked.

“Like I said, I’ll address all of your questions momentarily.”

Paul and Jordan quieted and sat still with their hands folded.

There was no sense in rushing; they were on the Sheriff’s time now.

“Where did you come from?” The Sheriff asked.

“Pennsylvania,” they both said in unison.

The Sheriff laughed. “Well, guess I’ll have to believe you there. What do you do, or what did you do?”

Paul looked at Jordan. Jordan nodded for him to speak first.

“I’m a computer technician, or at least I was. I mean, that’s what I am. I got laid off from my job at Dynamic Systems in Philadelphia two years ago. We've lived in Beech Creek since then.”

Paul took a deep breath, almost lost in his own thoughts.

“Okay, thank you,” the Sheriff said.

He looked at Jordan.

“How about you?”

“I’m retired military, currently a G-2 analyst for the U.S. Army,” Jordan answered.

“You served in the Army?” the Sheriff asked.

“Yes, the Army,” Jordan said.

“What rank did you make it to?”

“I retired as a Sergeant First Class,” Jordan said.

The Sheriff laughed.

“Damn, you’re retired? You don’t look a day over thirty-five.”

“Well, I joined when I was eighteen, did my twenty and got out.

I’m forty-three years old, but thank you.”

The Sheriff leaned back in his chair and studied Paul and Jordan.

“So both you guys are pretty smart, I take it?”

Paul and Jordan looked at each other.

“Well I owe a lot to Jordan, here. He helped me and my daughter get out of Pennsylvania,” Paul said.

“Good thing too,” the Sheriff said.

“Any other questions?” Paul asked.

The Sheriff took a deep breath then leaned forward.

“A lot of things are uncertain right now. How long have you guys been traveling?”

“Little over a week,” Jordan said.

“What have you seen out there?”

“Bunch of other people on the road, just like us. Most of the stores are closed, some of them emptied. There are gas shortages. Power is out everywhere. We drove through Ohio, Indiana, and Iowa. It was all the same. Guess we’re lucky we made it this far,” Jordan continued.

“Have you ever harmed, robbed, or killed anyone?” the Sheriff asked bluntly.

They were taken aback by his questioning.

“No, we haven’t,” Jordan answered. “We were in a very dangerous situation earlier. There were looters. They killed some police. They would have killed us if your people hadn’t come when they did.”

He tilted his head to expose the large bruise on his face.

“This is what they did to me before your people came.”

“I killed a man,” Paul said.

It made him feel good to finally get it out
.
Jordan’s head whipped toward Paul in astonishment. The room went silent. Paul could feel both their eyes burning holes through him.

“I don’t know who he was or where he came from, but he was intent on trying to get some money my boss owed him. This was the day of the Wall Street Bombing, the day everything began.”

“We call it Day One around here,” the Sheriff said.

“Why didn’t you tell me this?” Jordan asked.

“Because I wanted to forget about it. Pretend it never happened. He took my daughter. He was going to kill her.”

“So you killed him instead?” the Sheriff asked.

“I had to,” Paul answered.

The Sheriff studied Paul more intently than he had done before. “Well, guess you had to do what you had to do. I’m certain we’ll all be faced with such decisions when the time comes. Thank you for being honest about it.”

“After he tracked us in the woods. After we killed him, I mean, after I killed him, we found Jordan at an abandoned Army Reserve center.”

“What brought you to the area?” the Sheriff asked.

“Jordan told us that Philadelphia had been nuked. He said there was fallout in the air.”

“Well, I hate to tell you this, but he’s right,” the Sheriff said.

Paul went silent. The Sheriff continued.

“So you fled Pennsylvania because of the nuclear attacks. How did you end up in Missouri?”

“I was looking for my wife and sons. They live, or lived, right outside Kansas City.”

“What happened to them?”

“They weren’t at the house when we got there. They left the city.”

“Are they still alive?”

“I believe so.”

Paul cut in. “We’re trying to get to Colorado to find my wife. That’s where we were headed, or, at least, where I’m headed.”

“It’s gonna be hard to make the trip without a car. I heard they brought you guys here in our 5-ton, said your vehicle was burnt to the ground.”

“That’s true, but I don’t care how I do it, I’m going to get to Colorado.”

The Sheriff took another deep breath then a sip of cold coffee from his cup.

“Let’s just back up a minute here. Let me tell you a little about myself and New Haven. First, I can’t promise that this place is perfect or that nothing bad can happen here. We call it a safe zone, because that’s what it is to us. Like you, we’re trying to figure out what’s going on in the world. Many people have come here for the very same reason you have. They were attacked, assaulted, or they were fleeing their home states.
”

“How many are staying here?” Jordan asked.

“
Well, let’s see here,” the Sheriff said looking up to the ceiling. “We got about seventy to seventy-five people here.”

He then looked back down. “Of course not all of them were original residents. Many people already living here have opened up their homes to new arrivals. But for it to work, we have to make sure that each person is on the up and up. I’ve lived here for the past twenty years, even led the neighborhood watch program back in the day.”

“So what have you heard so far?” Paul asked.

“Pardon?” the Sheriff asked, turning an ear toward him. “Sorry, my hearing comes and goes.”

He looked to be in his late fifties, but Paul couldn’t tell for sure.

“You have people listening to radio transmissions. What sort of things have you heard so far?”

“Well. Same as you, we’re totally in the dark here. There is an emergency broadcast message that they play in rotation. Power shortages. Fuel shortages. Food shortages. They’re massive and they’re everywhere.”

“What caused all of this?” Paul asked directly.

“Nuclear bombs. That’s what we hear. Word is that they’ve been detonated throughout dozens of cities. The casualties could very well be in the millions. I’m no expert, we don’t know who or what detonated those bombs, and like you, we haven’t heard a single news report all week. I’m sure you’re all aware of electrical grids. Well the theory around here is that they’ve all been taken out. That’s one anyway. Phone reception has been disabled as well. There are so many people, like you, who have piled into other states, these fancy-pants officials simply don’t know what to do anymore. One thing’s for certain, we’re at war with someone.”