The deadliest flu season in a hundred years is about to turn a whole lot deadlier. When an accident at a famous medical research facility lets a mutated avian flu strain out, a nightmare scenario unfolds. Before authorities can react, millions are infected—and that’s just the beginning. The mortality rate exceeds 80%. Leaders and elected officials soon learn the man-manipulated virus respects neither rank nor stature. The resulting chain reaction leads to a collapse of modern society—even in Colorado, where no cases of the killer strain have yet appeared.
Clint Stonebreaker, a happily-married software engineer living in Denver, doesn’t like watching the news. He especially doesn’t let Jake, his wacky doomsday-prepping brother, watch it when he visits. But when chaos goes viral through the entire country, Clint and his wife Jenny are forced to acknowledge reality. They find themselves hitting the road with their gun-enthusiast neighbor to escape the deteriorating city. Their goal? Reaching Clint’s hunting cabin in Southeastern Colorado and trying to make a homestead of it.
They don’t get far before running into a gauntlet of obstacles. Colorado seems to have become a giant sociological experiment, with dire consequences for making the wrong decisions. The spirit of American resolve is pitted against the ugly realty of criminal opportunism in every direction they turn. Ironically, Clint isn’t sure which is worse: being forced to survive in the midst of civil unrest, or knowing he’ll have to admit to Jake that he was right. Assuming he can find him…
Ken Benton appears to be your run-of-the-mill city slicker at first glance, blissfully playing with his iPhone at the bar of the local barbeque joint while sipping on craft-brewed IPA. But he has a secret passion: doomsday survival prepping. And if you ever snuck up behind him to see what he was reading, it would likely be one of those apocalyptic-survival stories set after the collapse of modern society. Yes, he’s one of those nuts. But someday soon, Ken believes, those nuts may become the new upper class in society. Until then, we’ll just have to make do with story-telling. And preparing. Cheers.
Because Harold and Barry were both light sleepers, they
decided Clint should take the first “watch.” It was only prudent for someone to
stay awake and keep an eye on the cars, as well as the personal belongings
Barry and Shay had to unload in order to fold their rear seat down for their
makeshift bed. Harold would relieve Clint in a couple hours, and then Barry
would take the last shift. Barry assured them he would be awake in the wee
hours anyway.
“There is one thing that concerns me,” Barry said. “I’d feel
better if our perimeter was more …secure.”
“I know what you mean.” Harold scanned their surroundings.
“Well, we could move the cars to fence us in better.”
“Sounds like a good idea,” Jenny said.
Harold and Barry adjusted the two wagons so they were back to
back, overlapping just a little. They decided it was good enough and everyone
but Clint retired to try and sleep.
Clint sat in the comfortable canvas chair he brought along
and gazed at the night sky. The smell of campfires was still heavy and the
stars were out. He thought about Jake. Jake always liked the stars. Clint
checked his cell phone for the twentieth time, but there were still no bars.
Jenny came out of the tent. Clint expected her to come over
and kiss him goodnight, but instead she scurried to Harold’s tent and called
him. The two of them talked in low voices before Harold got up and walked to
his car. He came back with a small vinyl bag and handed it to Jenny. She
thanked him and they both went back inside their tents.
Clint could still hear bits and pieces of conversations from
the other campers. Not enough to understand the exchanges, but he picked up
certain words that gave him the gist of the topics being discussed. Everyone
was trying to go somewhere. People were concerned about their own safety, in
addition to the safety of the ones they were going to see. Complaints about
phones not working were also popular. Clint realized he and Jenny were in the
same predicament as everyone else. Barry and Shay, too. They were nice folks.
Good thing Clint picked this spot, so they could partner up with them for the
night.
Clint caught himself nodding off twice. He eventually
decided to move to the picnic table to prevent any further occurrences. Harold
got up and relieved him shortly thereafter. He had a book, and turned the
lantern back on so he could read.
Inside the tent, Jenny was sleeping lightly. She rustled as
Clint found a comfortable position next to her. That’s when he noticed the
vinyl bag Harold gave her was partially unzipped. He couldn’t be certain in the
dark, but it looked to contain one of Harold’s pistols. Clint wasn’t sure
whether that should relax him or make him nervous.
It must have relaxed him, because the next thing he knew it
was morning. The sounds of people talking—along with car doors shutting and
engines starting—caused his eyes to open and find sunlight.
When he and Jenny crawled out of the tent, Harold was
talking to Barry next to his brown Volvo. Barry and Shay were packed up
already, and apparently about to leave. Shay waited in the passenger seat.
Clint and Jenny approached them.
“Good morning!” Barry said “The roads have reopened. Here.”
He held out a piece of paper. Clint took it. There was writing on it.
“That’s the name, address, and phone number of Shay’s sister
in Pueblo. If you need anything, or have any trouble travelling, feel free to
contact us there. Or, if you happen to find yourself in Pueblo, stop by and
visit.”
Shay rolled her window down. “Bye, guys. So nice meeting
you. Bye, Jenny. Good luck!”
Clint was still groggy as they said their final goodbyes. He
wished he had a cup of coffee. They had a bag of grounds packed away, but no
practical way to make it.
Barry got in his car and joined the crowd of vehicles that
were all attempting to leave at the same time. He first tried to wedge his way
into the line, but then seemed to have an inspired notion. He turned and drove
right through the trees to get to the side road, his windshield acquiring a
small pine branch in the process. Several other cars then followed his example.
“We might as well wait until this clears out more,” Harold
said. “Go ahead and use the bathrooms if you need to. I’ll start packing up.”
Harold had everything loaded when Clint and Jenny returned
from the restrooms. The field cleared out fast and was nearly vacant by now.
Unsightly patches of burned grass marked the sites of last night’s campfires.
One of them was still smoldering.
“Are we ready?” Harold said. He appeared to be in good
spirits.
They took one final look around before climbing into the car
for the road trip. Clint was hopeful of a reunion with his brother before this
day was through. Harold started the engine and put the car in gear.
But then he put in back in park.
“No,” he said. “Dear God, no!”
“What’s wrong?” Clint didn’t like the sudden desperation in
Harold’s voice.
Without answering, Harold turned the ignition off, opened
his door, jumped out, and ran through the trees towards the road.
“What’s the matter now?” Jenny asked.
“I don’t know. Not car trouble, I hope. Looks like he tried
to run after Barry and Shay. Did they leave something behind?”
“Or accidentally take something of ours, maybe?” Jenny
asked.
Clint looked at her and tilted his head. She raised her
eyebrows. They both got out of the car. Harold had disappeared. The traffic was
now thinned out, so the remaining cars were moving freely.
Clint turned to Jenny and made an exaggerated shrug. As he
did, he noticed a black Chevy Suburban driving on the field. It parked next to
the still-smoldering fire. A well-dressed man got out and stomped on it.
“There he is,” Jenny said, pointing to the trees. Clint
turned back around.
Harold was back in view, shaking his head and muttering as
he slowly returned.
“I’m so stupid,” he said. “So stupid. We’re screwed. Damn
those shysters!”
“What’s the problem?” Clint asked.
“They siphoned us. Took all our gas. We had over
three-quarters of a tank. Now on empty!” He walked up to his car and pounded a
fist on the hood. “Dammit!”
“Are you sure?” Jenny asked. “How can that be? You guys
watched the cars all night, right?”
“Let me see,” Clint said. He came around to the driver’s
side, slipped in sideways and turned the key one click to the accessory
position. The gas gauge rose only to E and the need gas light came on. He cranked the ignition. The car started
right up, but the gas reading didn’t change.
“Oh, no.” Clint turned the car off and rested his head on
the steering wheel.
Jenny came up next to him. “I don’t understand. Who could
have stolen our gas? How could this happen?”
“Our friends,” Harold said. “Barry and Shay. They must have
been low.”
“No,” Jenny replied. “No, I don’t believe it. No way it was
them. Maybe we punctured the gas tank or something?”
“It was Barry,” Harold said. “Only person it could have
been. There’s no gas leak. I saw the gauge when we repositioned the cars last
night. There would be a smell, and a puddle under the car.”
“Well then it had to be someone else—like that Zane
character, maybe.”
“He’s right, honey.” Clint shook his head. “I remember
thinking the position he put his wagon in was a little weird, overlapping the
rears like that. It was so the gas caps were lined up.”
“Right,” Harold said. “Remember when he offered to siphon
some gas to us? That struck me as odd. Obviously, he had a siphon. Now I see it
was a sly way of finding out how much we had.”
Jenny looked shocked. “I …I just can’t believe it. They were
so nice. And they gave us their address and phone number.”
“Fake,” Harold said. “Guaranteed. That’s why he wanted the
last watch. I shouldn’t have fallen for that. Stupid, stupid, stupid.”
“Not your fault,” Clint said. “They fooled all of us. Good
actors. But what are we going to do now?”
“We need help!” Jenny shouted to the air. She began waving
her arms frantically. “Somebody, help!”
She then lowered her voice and looked at Harold. “We need to
find someone who will give us some gas.”
“Not bloody likely,” Harold said.
The sound of a big motor drew close as the black Suburban on
the field suddenly pulled up next to them. The passenger window rolled down and
the driver leaned over in his seat.
“You folks all right?” the driver said. “Having some kind of
trouble?”
Jenny ran up to his window. “Oh yes, yes, thank you for
stopping! Someone siphoned all our gas last night while we were sleeping. We
made friends with this other couple, but we think they ended up stealing our
gas! Please, can you help us? We just need some gas. At least enough to get
back to Denver.”
The driver turned his engine off and climbed out. Clint
thought the man looked out of place as he came around the front of his big SUV.
Probably in his early fifties, he was too well-groomed, and appeared too
well-rested, to be one of the campers from last night. He wore a dress shirt
and sports jacket, which smartly complimented his jeans, cowboy boots, and
partially-gray hair. This man moved with a certain confidence. Somehow, his
presence here relieved much of the stress of the current situation.
“Name’s Wade. Sorry to hear about your trouble. Gasoline has
become a scarce commodity, so I’m not surprised by your story. Unfortunately, I
can’t spare any, either. And I’m not going to Denver anytime soon—like for the
rest of my life, if I’m lucky. About the best I can do is offer you a ride into
Springs.”
“Did you spend the night here?” Clint asked. “I don’t remember
seeing your car.”
“No.” Wade shook his head. “Not in the park. I got stuck in
the Black Forest, too, though. Fortunately, I have some friends with a house
here. Heard about the impromptu communities of stranded motorists and decided
to take a quick survey of the scene before heading home.”
“You look familiar,” Jenny said.
“You folks live in the Springs area?”
“No, Denver. But we have a second home down near
Springfield.”
“I see.” Wade looked disappointed. “Too bad. Well, my offer
stands, anyway. You seem like nice people. I’m your fifth-district congressman,
Wade Bennett.”
“Oh.” Jenny giggled. “That must be why I recognized you. I’m
Jenny Stonebreaker. This is my husband, Clint, and our neighbor, Harold. We
were trying to make it down to our second home.”
“Maybe we still are,” Harold said. “Would you mind making
room in your truck for some of our equipment?”
“I suppose I could do that. Not the entire load, I hope.”
Wade eyed the rear compartment of Harold’s wagon.
“No,” Harold said. “Only the bikes and backpacks.”
“Wait a minute,” Clint said. “We need to discuss this.”
Wade nodded. “Of course. Talk it over. I’ll wait a bit.
Those look like good bikes, and you all seem to be in decent shape. You might
be able to get back to Denver by early afternoon. Although…”
Everyone looked at him.
“It might be safer heading south. Guess it depends on your
second home. Denver had some problems last night, from what I hear. More riots
and looting. Just so you know. Up to you.”
Wade sat in his car while Clint, Harold, and Jenny talked.
Clint wasn’t initially sure about trying to finish the trip by bike, but when
he heard the congressman’s warnings about Denver he was much more inclined
towards it. The ride would be difficult either way. But at least going south
figured to be more downhill than facing the steep inclines back to Denver.
Then there was Jake. Clint still had no way of knowing if he
was okay. Stopping by his house in person might be the only way to do that now.
And travelling by an internal-combustion powered vehicle no longer seemed to be
an option.
Harold, predictably, was all for it. Jenny took some
persuading. Ultimately, though, she was sympathetic to Clint’s fear of riots
and acquiesced.
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