Tim Washburn - The Day After Oblivion

“You’re right. I’ve not had the pleasure of visiting your hometown.”

“ Pleasure would be a stretch.”

Both chuckle. Lauren glances around the decimated landscape. “I just hope I have a home to return to.”

“What are the prevailing winds out in Lubbock?”

“Ninety percent of the time, the wind is out of the south. Why?”

“There’s not much out there to bomb, militarily wise. Unless they targeted the oil fields in the Permian Basin.”

Lauren twists in her seat. “You think they might have?”

“Not knowing which targeting packages were selected, I can’t say for sure, but unlikely. Unfortunately, I can’t say the same for Dallas.”

“Would they have bombed Dallas?”

“Most likely. Even if they didn’t, there are enough military installations around the area that the collateral damage would be significant.”

“So why are you going back?”

McDowell sighs. “I don’t know where else to go.”

“You still have family there?” Lauren asks.

“My parents are long gone. My ex still lives in Dallas, but thankfully our children don’t.”

“How many and where do they live?”

“Two. My son, Matt, is a senior at the University of Colorado in Boulder. I think he went there for the skiing and not the school. My daughter, Charlotte, the oldest, is working on a master’s at Stanford.”

“Are they safe?”

“I sure as hell hope so. Boulder’s a good distance away from the big military bases, and Palo Alto is right on the coast. California was probably hammered, but the coastal breezes would have pushed most of the radiation inland.” He pauses. “What about you, any children?” McDowell asks.

“Are you kidding? Teaching middle school is one of the best forms of birth control on the planet.” They both share a laugh.

“No Mr. Thomas?”

“Nope. I was in a relationship for a year and a half, but things went downhill when he got transferred to Houston.”

McDowell winces. Houston is a huge population center. “Long-distance relationships are difficult.”

“Yes, they are,” Lauren says. “You never remarried?”

“No. Once was enough for me. I’ve had a couple of relationships, but it’s difficult with the amount of travel I do. Or did, I should say.”

“Will things ever return to normal?”

“Not in my lifetime. Hopefully it will during yours.”

Memphis

After a few hours at the home of Sarah and Christopher Michaels, Zane is eager to be back on the road. The trip from the clinic proved to be uneventful and Sarah hasn’t mentioned anything to her husband about the shoot-out in her waiting room, yet. It might have something to do with the presence of their two young children. Alyx steps over to give Sarah a hug before moving on to Christopher. Zane steps into the void and hugs Sarah before shaking Christopher’s hand. Alyx grabs the bag of medical supplies Sarah had prepared, and Zane handles the shotgun. They step out onto the porch and Zane takes a moment to reconnoiter the area.

“Wait a minute,” Christopher says before ducking back in the house. He returns a moment later with two cases of powdered infant formula. He hands them to Alyx. “For Holly and the baby. Protect it with your life because that’s going to be more valuable than gold.”

Alyx leans forward and kisses Christopher on the cheek. “Thank you. I owe you.”

Christopher waves a hand. “Just be careful out there.”

Not sensing any threats, Zane descends the steps with Alyx following. He waits for her to store the supplies and climb in before sliding behind the wheel. Zane lays the shotgun on the seat and backs out of the drive, his eyes constantly scanning.

“Alyx, will you pull out a ten-day supply of the expired antibiotics?”

Alyx nods and rummages through the bag, pulling out four sample bottles of amoxicillin. “What do you want me to do with the rest of this stuff?”

“Stuff it under the seat. We need the bag to remain hidden.” Zane pulls out onto a main thoroughfare and follows the signs for I-40. The next intersection is blocked by expired vehicles, forcing Zane to backtrack. After a series of turns and switchbacks, he spots a highway on-ramp and carefully navigates around a clog of cars and pulls onto the highway.

“What’s the game plan when we get to the roadblock?”

“Are you okay with making the approach while I cover you with the shotgun?”

“And say what?”

“Tell them the truth. We’re only passing through their state on our way home.”

“And if they refuse?”

“I haven’t thought that far ahead. Let’s just hope whoever’s leading the ragtag army needs some antibiotics.”

“Should I offer additional drugs?”

“No, that would tip our hand.” Zane slows the truck as they near the roadblock. He eases forward, hoping to get close enough for the shotgun to be effective, but two men armed with rifles step out from behind a tractor-trailer rig. “Damn, we may not get a chance to talk to the main guy.”

The two men approach, one on each side of the truck. Zane cranks down his window.

“The bridge is closed,” the man says, coming to a stop six feet away, the rifle tight to his shoulder and aimed dead center at Zane’s chest.

The other man assumes a similar position on Alyx’s side of the truck.

“We’re not stopping in Arkansas. We’re only trying to make it home to Weatherford, Oklahoma.”

“I don’t give a shit where you’re going. The bridge is closed.” The man sweeps his gaze across the inside of the cab and Zane feels a chill race down his spine. He slowly works his hand toward the shotgun lying in the middle of the seat.

“All we want to do is drive across your state,” Zane says, his hand lighting on the shotgun. He quietly cocks both barrels.

“I’ll say it for the last time—the bridge is closed,” the man says. He peers into the cab again. “Unless you’re willing to trade for a little pussy.”

“The pussy’s not mine to trade, but I assure you she’s not interested.”

The man waves the rifle barrel Alyx’s way. “Why don’t we let the little lady decide?”

Zane’s eyes flick to the rearview mirror to check behind them and he slowly works his hand toward the shifter. “Pussy’s off the table. We do have some antibiotics to trade.” He carefully bumps the lever to reverse and returns his hand to the shotgun.

“I might need the antibiotics after. She carrying any diseases?”

“Do you want to trade our passing for the antibiotics or not? Or maybe I should speak to the leader of your outfit.”

“You’re talking to him, and I told you what I wanted. How about you two step out of the truck?”

Zane steals a glance at the other man. He appears relaxed, his rifle pointed toward the ground. Zane quickly paints a mental picture in his head. “We don’t want any trouble. We’ll find another way to cross.”

“See, I’ve got a problem with that.” The man makes the mistake of grabbing his crotch. “I’ve already got a hard—”

Zane whips the shotgun up and empties both barrels before stomping on the gas. “Duck,” he shouts as the front windshield spiders with cracks from a rifle bullet. Zane glances at the rearview and whips the wheel hard to the left. The truck skids and threatens to roll over before the tires find purchase. Zane slams the shifter into drive and floors the accelerator as rifle shots ring out behind them. He ducks low in the seat just before the back window explodes, sending glass fragments across the cab. He whips around a busted truck for cover and keeps the accelerator floored. He hits the first off-ramp they come to and nearly collides with a dead Oldsmobile, swerving at the last second and clipping the car’s rear bumper. He’s on the verge of losing control of the truck when he stands on the brakes. Now well below the highway, they’re out of the line of fire. The truck skids to a stop. Zane is shaking as he eases down on the gas pedal, steering toward a side road. “Alyx, reload the shotgun.”