James Hunt - Broken Roads

A group of people was huddled on the floor, all of them with their hands up in surrender. A family with two small children, a young woman, a middle aged man, and an overweight man dressed in a TSA uniform looked at him.

“Hey, man. We don’t want any trouble. Just take what you want and be on your way, okay?” the TSA agent said.

Mike kept his weapon aimed, but moved his finger from the trigger. He glanced around at the group. Each time he swept the pistol over them they crouched lower to the ground. Finally, Mike lowered his gun, clicked the safety back on, and tucked the pistol in the belt of his pants.

“I’m not here to hurt anyone,” Mike said.

“Mike?” Nelson called from the counter.

“We’re good, Nelson. C’mon back,” Mike answered.

The TSA man extended his hand.

“Clarence Furns,” he said.

The two men shook hands.

“That’s Tom Wrink, Fay Cam, Jung To, Jenna To, and their two little ones, Jung Jr. and Claire,” Clarence said.

Tom wore the remnants of what was left of his business suit. His beard crept down along his neck. When Mike went to shake his hand it was grimy with dirt, skin, and whatever he’d ate at his last meal.

Fay’s hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Her nails were long, the nail polish flaking off. Mike noticed the tattoos along her arm, exposed from her tank top.

Jung and Jenna stayed close to one another. They were both dressed in what looked like comfortable clothing for a long trip. Jung Jr. and Claire hid behind their parent’s legs, glancing up at Mike.

Mike introduced Nelson and Sean.

“So, what’s for breakfast?” Nelson asked.

Clarence picked up the lantern and walked them back into the kitchen. The group had stacked the kitchen with boxes of food rations, vending machine boxes, and canned goods.

“You can take as much as you need and stay for as long as you’d like, but I don’t know how much longer we’re going to be able to last here,” Clarence said.

“What are you talking about? There’s enough food here to last you for the rest of the year,” Nelson said.

“When everything stopped working most of the airport was evacuated. They marched people to local hotels, into the city, wherever. There were quite a few that were just left here, and everything was fine for the first few days,” Clarence said.

“Then people from the city started showing up. I guess they thought they could escape on a plane or something. They came in droves and when they got here and found out that the airport was just as broken as the rest of the city, people started losing it,” Tom said.

“It started off with small stuff: where they slept, about personal space, where they could keep their stuff, stupid things. But then people started arguing over food and water. A few of the TSA and law enforcement officers that stuck around tried to keep things in order, but it didn’t take long for most of them to start causing trouble too,” Clarence explained.

“How’d you manage to get all of this stuff in here with all of the looting going on?” Mike asked.

“I grabbed as many things as I could when I started seeing everything fall apart, but then after the first person was killed it was a free-for-all. People just tore into each other. I grabbed these guys and locked us in the TSA security office. We were there for two days before I unlocked the door. When we came out most of the airport was abandoned. A few other people who had survived by hiding in other spots stayed, but most had left. We decided to gather everything we could find and put it in a central location. This was the spot we chose. It has a good vantage point from the front and if we need to get out quickly there are multiple exits,” Clarence said.

They did manage to find a large amount of supplies even after the looting. Nelson was right. They had enough food to last them for the rest of the year, and if Clarence were a TSA agent he’d have access to the security weapons at the airport.

“You said that you didn’t think you could stay here for long, but it sounds like most of the large groups have gone. If it’s just you guys why would you leave?” Mike asked.

“Gangs,” Fay said.

“Gangs?” Nelson asked.

“A guy came through a few days ago raving about motorcycle gangs coming down from Michigan and Ohio. Groups from small towns roving around like Vikings, pillaging what they want. He was a little off his rocker if you ask me though, so I don’t think he really knew what he was talking about,” Tom said.

“And I haven’t seen a single mechanical engine work in the past two weeks. Everything’s down,” Clarence said.

Mike thought about his 1975 Jeep. He could see his family piled in, supplies in the back, heading for the cabin. These people had no idea about the EMP blast and what it meant.

Anne grabbed the side of the wall blindly trying to get her bearings. Her foot jammed into the corner of the chair sending it crashing to the basement floor.

“Shit,” she murmured to herself.

“Anne, you okay down there?” Ulysses yelled from upstairs.

“I’m fine.”

She finally found one of the gas lanterns she was looking for. She lit the wick and the lamp illuminated the rest of the basement.

Shelves of canned food lined one of the sidewalls. A gun safe stood anchored in one of the corners of the room filled with assault rifles, pistols, shotguns, and ammo for each of them. Crates filled with medicine, bandages, spare clothing, blankets, sleeping bags, camping gear, fishing rods and lures were stacked along the back wall. Anne grabbed one of the first aid kits out of one of the medical boxes and rushed back upstairs.

Kalen was still on the couch lying on her side. Her eyes stared blankly at the floor. Dried blood flaked on the edge of her lip.

Anne dropped to her knees in front of her daughter. She opened up the first aid box and pulled out some cotton balls and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide.

“This might sting a little, sweetheart,” Anne said.

She placed the cotton ball on the corner of her daughter’s mouth, but Kalen didn’t even flinch. Her eyes glazed over. Anne wiped Kalen’s mouth, the white cotton ball turning a light pink.

Anne ran another fresh cotton ball along the cuts and scratches on Kalen’s arms and neck. She kept watching her daughter’s face, but Kalen didn’t move, she didn’t flinch, she didn’t show any emotion.

Ray walked in and dropped a duffle bag to the floor. It hit the ground with a thud. Ulysses came in after him.

“Should be the last of it,” Ray said.

“Let’s take a walk around the perimeter and make sure everything’s intact,” Ulysses said.

Ray headed out the door first and Ulysses glanced back at his granddaughter sitting on the couch. He walked over to her and kissed the top of her head. He looked at Anne.

“I’ll be back in a second,” he said.

The sun was sinking in the sky. The light broke through the leaves of the surrounding forest in fragments.

The two men walked around checking the walls, windows, and then climbed up to examine the roof. A small well was out back and Ulysses pulled a bucket of spring water up and handed it to Ray.

“Take it to the basement. There’s a water testing kit down there. We’ll see what we’re dealing with,” Ulysses said.

Ray carried the bucket back to the cabin, the water sloshing back and forth, splashing over the sides.

Ulysses examined the rope and pulley for the well. He checked for any cracks or wear, and once satisfied, set the rope back down.

A small piece of land had been plowed behind the cabin to be used as a garden. Ulysses dug his hands into the dirt and rubbed it between his palms. The soil was warm from the sun.