Steven Konkoly - The Perseid Collapse

“I’m worried that we’ll be driving into the same situation we saw at the York tollbooth,” Alex said. “There’s only one other crossing between that one and the turnpike. My guess is that either the state police or locals will have them sealed up—possibly both ways.”

“There are plenty of places to cross further west. We can keep driving until we find one,” said Charlie.

“How far do you want to drive? They could have the entire border sealed up.”

Alex shrugged. “We have all day to figure this out. It’s not even nine yet.”

“And this little setback will end up costing us another hour, if we don’t get stranded in the mud. The clock is ticking. Did you see the rain clouds in the distance? The ground can’t take any more water. We’re fucked if this is a big storm,” said Ed.

“I’m pretty sure it’s not a major system. Looked like a chance of showers on the forecast” said Alex.

“When did you check last?” asked Ed.

“Saturday.”

“A lot can change in a few days.”

“We’ll start with the Berwicks and see what happens,” Alex said. “We might be able to talk our way across.”

Ed was right about the potential storm on the horizon. Alex had seen a chance of rain on the extended forecast when he checked on the weather for their sailing trip. He vaguely remembered seeing a chance of thunderstorms for today and clear weather for the rest of the week. Kate had eyeballed the distant clouds when they parted ways earlier, raising an eyebrow but saying nothing.

She wasn’t a big fan of rain-soaked sailboat trips, and he had purposely glossed over that part of the week’s weather report right before packing up the car and heading over to the yacht club. The sailboat’s interior space shrank quickly when foul weather trapped them below with the kids for any length of time. Ironically, the decision to withhold part of the forecast from Kate probably had saved both of their lives. Kate liked to walk in the morning, and Alex invariably ran every other day. He usually skipped Sundays, which meant that he would have very likely found himself somewhere between his house and Higgins Beach when the tsunami swept inland.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea, guys,” Charlie said. “Dover is a decent-sized city. We need to avoid high-population centers until we have no choice.”

“Dover’s not exactly teeming with people,” countered Ed.

“I’d prefer to avoid places like Dover,” Alex told them, “but we should still be all right in New Hampshire. I’m mostly worried about the outskirts of Boston.”

“I don’t agree, guys,” Charlie insisted. “If you live between Boston and Maine, you’re gonna want to get the fuck out of there. Dover and Portsmouth were ransacked by the kind citizens of Massachusetts and Connecticut during the pandemic. I’m just saying we can’t let our guard down.”

“We shouldn’t let our guard down at any time, but we can’t take every dirt road from here to Medford in an attempt to slip past any town with more than one traffic light. We need to reach the kids by tonight at the latest,” said Ed.

“Barring some unforeseen disaster, we’ll be in position to enter Medford around dusk.”

“Why can’t we just hide the car and go straight to the kids?” asked Ed.

“Because we’ll be wearing tactical gear and carrying military-style rifles through a heavily populated, urban setting. If we do this during broad daylight, we’ll attract a shit ton of attention. The wrong kind of attention. The only thing more valuable than a car right now is a military-grade weapon. Anyone with a little foresight knows that the situation in these high-population-density areas will implode. Even a rifle like yours will replace the dog as man’s best friend,” said Alex.

“Easy on the rifle,” said Ed.

“I’ll have to apologize to her later,” Alex said, winking at Charlie. “She did save my ass.”

“The rifle didn’t save your ass,” said Charlie.

“Thank you, Charlie,” said Ed.

“Will you sit back in your seat?” Alex grumped. “You’re like one of the kids.”

“I’m not giving up this front-row seat for anything. The only thing missing is a bag of popcorn. The two of you should keep me entertained all the way to Boston,” said Charlie.

“Wonderful. Can you at least breathe on Ed?” Alex complained. “I can smell the beef jerky stuck between your teeth.”

“See that, Charlie?” asked Ed.

“See what?”

“Alex goes right to the vegetarian digs when he feels threatened by you,” said Ed, grinning widely.

“I always suspected he was a foodist.”

“Two against one?” Alex said. “This is going to be a long ride.”

“Let’s hope not,” said Ed, the smile suddenly gone from his face.

Prior to the brief exchange seconds ago, Ed hadn’t spontaneously smiled since yesterday afternoon. Unlike Alex, who leaned on humor to mask and cope with stress, Ed became stolid and serious, creating an impenetrable brick wall to hide his emotions. The tactic didn’t work very well for Ed, because the impassive facade didn’t match his usual range of expressions. Alex could read him like a book, and right now, Ed was close to having a nervous breakdown.

“We’ll get the kids back, Ed.”

Ed nodded his head and looked like he wanted to say something. Alex didn’t push it. He glanced quickly at Charlie, who met his eyes and imperceptibly raised his eyebrows, acknowledging Alex’s silent message: We need to keep an eye on him.

A few minutes later, they exited the turnpike at Wells and decelerated along the winding off ramp. They found the two-lane road blocked at the tollbooth station by a Wells Police cruiser and several orange traffic drums. A police officer and three armed men stood in front of the drums, signaling for them to pull into the right lane, directly perpendicular to the side of the cruiser. Alex examined the situation and made a quick decision to proceed.

“Get your Maine driver’s licenses out for the officer. Registration too. Make sure nothing has shifted back there. All windows down,” said Alex.

They had placed the licenses and registration in the front breast pockets of their shirts for quick access and to avoid reaching out of a police officer’s sight in case they were stopped. While Ed pulled the Jeep into an area of pavement designated by traffic cones, Alex and Ed unbuttoned their pockets and removed their identification. Alex kept his eye on the civilians that accompanied the officer, noting their weapons. One of them held a semiautomatic shotgun and the two others carried AR-style rifles without optics.

They wore a variety of commercial tactical equipment and pistol holsters, which told Alex that they were most likely volunteers from town. Only the police officer wore body armor, obvious underneath his gray uniform. He tipped his campaign hat and approached the driver’s-side window. One of the men with an AR walked across the front of their Jeep and took up a position on the passenger side. None of the men at the checkpoint pointed their weapons at the vehicle. He felt comfortable with the faces he saw. Serious. Solemn. Slightly nervous. If anyone had smiled or grinned at him, he would have felt threatened.

“Keep an eye on the guy to our right,” he said out of the side of his mouth to Charlie.

“Got it,” whispered Charlie.

The police officer stopped a few feet from Ed’s door and examined the interior of the cabin, sweeping his eyes over Ed and Alex.

“Morning, gentlemen. May I ask where you came from and where you’re headed?”

As agreed earlier, Ed led the conversation for the group. Alex thought it would appear strange if one of the passengers was the primary spokesperson. Possibly suspicious. If Ed faltered in any way, Alex would interject, but otherwise he’d leave the talking to the driver.