Richard Stephenson - Collapse

Escaped convicts Richard Dupree and Billy Bratchett were heading up Interstate 70 in a stolen Honda Accord. They could see the city of Denver on the horizon. They’d made it to Las Vegas without issue and once they got to Sin City, they couldn’t believe the state it was in. Law and order were a thing of the past; gangs of thugs wandered the streets doing whatever they pleased. Most businesses were closed and boarded up, only to be broken into by desperate people looking for food and water. Residential areas were in chaos, frightened citizens barricaded in their houses. Many front lawns had dead bodies strewn about, clearly the result of armed citizens defending their homes. On the drive into Vegas, Richard had rehearsed several plans for acquiring new clothes and a vehicle without having to harm anyone. As it turned out, no real plan was actually necessary. The first gas station they came across had already been abandoned. The parking lot had two cars in it. They chose a Honda Accord, and Tank hot-wired it in under a minute. They broke into the gas station and filled their stomachs with food and water. Donning fresh t-shirts, hats and sunglasses, they loaded up the trunk of their new car with supplies. They turned on the pumps and filled the tank, along with several gas cans. In all, they had about thirty extra gallons of gas.

Richard did his best to avoid as much of Las Vegas as possible. He stuck to the outskirts of town and made his way to Interstate 15, heading north to Interstate 70. Tank had the passenger seat reclined as far back as it would go. His eye was still healing from the incision Richard had made to drain the infection. Tank had no problem moving around and could take care of himself; however, he was still suffering from splitting headaches. The Honda was the most comfortable quarters he’d had since they left Highland Valley State Prison and he was content to get as much sleep as possible. Richard, on the other hand, had been trained as a SEAL to operate on long missions with very little sleep. Getting only a few hours of sleep in three or four days was nothing out of the ordinary for him; he’d done it more times than he could remember. None of those missions came close to being as important as this one. He was determined to find his children, and he wouldn’t stop until he was reunited with them.

Richard had been surfing around the radio constantly since they left the gas station. He desperately needed intel on what was going on in the world. He kept up with the news when he was at Highland Valley and was painfully aware of how quickly the country was falling apart. Along with most of the nation, he watched the news reports of the little girl dying in an ambulance at a National Guard checkpoint in Denver and the resulting riots that exploded all over the country. If Las Vegas was any indication, most of the major cities would be in complete anarchy. Richard managed to find one radio station out of Vegas that was still broadcasting. Most of what was being said didn’t make a lot of sense, something about a big attack to the east. Richard didn’t know what that meant exactly. Terrorist attacks were becoming commonplace, so “an attack” could mean anything. The DJ seemed to be throwing out all kinds of insane theories, and Richard could tell he wasn’t speaking about facts. He still listened to everything on the off chance that this wacko might make sense. It got more interesting when the DJ starting taking phone calls.

“Iranians are here! They’re marching into D.C.!”

“They blew up Washington! That’s why they aren’t telling us anything!”

“My sister lives in Boston, and I haven’t been able to call her! I hope they didn’t take out Boston!”

“The Iranians have some secret weapon! They took out the power grid!”

“I got a friend that works for the government. He said an EMP took out the east coast! Leveled everything!”

The last two callers grabbed Richard’s attention. The last one obviously had no clue what an EMP was since it has no destructive power outside of destroying electronics. It couldn’t “level” anything. If some big attack had happened back east, it could very well have been an EMP. It would explain the lack of information. If a nuke took out D.C., or any city for that matter, news agencies would still be able to report it. The total communications blackout could be the result of an EMP. Richard filed away the idea in the back of his head and decided not to entertain it again until he had solid facts.

Once Richard reached the outskirts of Denver, he took the first exit he could find and headed north around the city. His ex-wife lived in Northglenn, a suburb just off Interstate 25. His lawyer kept tabs on her and kept Richard updated on her movements. Richard had memorized the directions to her house. He could see people running in the streets causing as much damage as they could — smashing store windows and destroying parked cars. One street corner looked like a battlefield. Nearly a hundred men and women were fighting each other with baseball bats and crowbars. Richard sped up and raced around them doing eighty-five miles an hour. He knew that a working automobile was a prized possession people would kill for. He would not stop or slow down for anyone. If he had to run over someone to get to his kids, he would gladly do so.

His evasion of the street battle stirred Tank from his slumber. “What the fuck? Where are we?”

“Denver.”

“Are you shitting me? I slept that long?”

“Yeah.”

“What the hell’s going on? Broncos lose the Super Bowl?”

“Haven’t had a Super Bowl in years.”

“No shit, smartass, it was a joke.”

“I don’t know what’s going on. Apparently most of the country is like this. Heard some rumors on the radio about a big attack to the east.”

“Another terrorist attack?”

“Bigger, like Iran big.”

“Fuck.”

“All I can tell you is it’s making it very easy for us to move around. Haven’t seen a single cop. All this craziness makes it hard for anyone to care about escaped cons on the loose.”

“Fucking outstanding. I could get used to this. What are we doing?”

“Going to my ex-wife’s house to get my kids.”

“What if she’s not there and took the kids someplace else?”

“Then we’ll figure something out.”

Richard exited the interstate and remembered that he had to drive two miles before he turned again. Moving down the interstate wasn’t too difficult, but getting into the heart of a suburb full of unruly people was going to be a challenge. A block from the interstate, an intersection was completely gridlocked with abandoned cars. A three car accident in the middle of the intersection had shut down traffic. Richard came to a stop behind the pileup and pondered his next move. He could easily jump the curb to his right into the parking lot of a strip mall, or he could turn into the gas station on his left and go around. He decided against the gas station because it had too many blind spots, and he had no desire to be caught in an ambush with no way to escape. Jumping the curb into the strip mall wasn’t without risks. He would have to maneuver his way around what looked to be a tailgate party, complete with a group of surly looking revelers.

“What do you wanna do, Richard?” asked Tank.

“We’re gonna ask these fine gentlemen for directions.”

“Thought you knew where you were going?”

“I know where we’re going.” Richard winked at Tank.

“It’s like that? You wanna kill them? Didn’t think you were the type to start a fight.”

“I’m not gonna start a fight. I’m just gonna ask them for directions and maybe about the weather. If they wanna start a fight, they can start a fight. You stay in the car until I signal for you. Well, until I signal for you or they jump me.”