CHAPTER 4 

Boston or Bust

THERE WAS ONE more day before my trip to Boston. Most times it is less than an hour’s drive to Boston. When I would go to work in the morning, it could take me one and half to two hours. It is a small and compact city. The thousands of college students, hospitals, and churches really promotes gridlock in the mix. Many of the high-tech companies like mine are in the outer section of the city. With the Atlantic Ocean acting as a buffer to the east, all traffic comes from the other parts.

There are a few roads, such as the Mass Pike, that are straight. Many of the other roads wind and turn. This is a challenge to the snowplows. Many of the roads date back hundreds of years. They follow cow or horse paths. I do not know if the cows and horses were in search of water or if they had a drinking problem. Like so many cities, Boston has too many vehicles to traverse the limited roads. I thought there was a divine reason to delay one more day.

Officer Ryan seemed like a straight shooter, but was he battle- tested? I knew whatever talent he had was better than anyone in our little collaborative. Like a finely tuned engine, we functioned as one.

Eventually we would run out of some necessities, but I felt we were faring better than most. The trip through Providence and to Connecticut was a harrowing one. In my gut I knew there could be worse challenges in Boston.

My head was swimming with multiple thoughts. Right now my family and neighbors had food, water, and basic survival resources. It was the unknown that frightened me. I had accomplished keeping my wife and son fed and protected. It was security that I needed to provide them. We’ve walked on eggshells. I had a real thirst to listen to more to the survival radio. The more knowledge I gained, the better for me to handle our own survival. Randy and Alice could easily break out of the fold again. I had to really laugh at myself. Jessica and Vivian were more battle-tested than Randy or probably Officer Ryan. During my trip to Boston, someone will have to ride shotgun.

The good, the bad, and the ugly seemed to come out of all of us during this crisis. Jessica was solidly behind me. I hoped that there would be a fairy-tale ending to this ongoing nightmare. Every father dreams of walking down the aisle with his only little princess. I had to wipe away a tear in my eyes. Why, Lord, do we have to have so much evil in the world? It was not only the terrorist but men who beat their wives and dogs. It was the corrupt politician, all the Internet scams, and all the salesmen selling snake oil. The list went on and on.

As I was from Nebraska, I liked to keep it simple. As I got older, I tried to get a little wiser. The greatest line I ever heard came from President Reagan. “Trust but verify,” he said. Damn, that says it all. Everyone’s mind wanders when we are put to the test. I was a Christian man. I had learned much. The Lord would not throw anything at you that you could not handle. Thinking about pleasant memories relaxes people. William was always mediating. He was so mellow. Funny he didn’t smoke pot, drink, or watch any kind of porn. I really respected him for finding that inner peace. To me, if there ever was a modern-day Moses, it would be him.

If a bad storm was headed our way, I could see him parting the Red Sea for us. He would keep it simple. He would say, “Follow me,” and give no other words. The power of a few simple words is better than a filibuster on the floor of Congress.

Men—we are such simple animals. Keep our belly filled and give us the touch of a female. Bingo, that’s the formula. I have tried to be a good husband at all times. Of course I looked at other females. Even President Carter has said he has had lust in his heart. He did not act on it, and neither have I. I really did miss Alice touching me. In time I was sure she would again. It had to be on her terms for it to feel natural. Now I was thankful to be alive. I was still dealing with that life I took. All the talk and condolences did not help.

It was only time. William had told me many times that our souls never die. Maybe in the heat of the moment, she chose the dark side. Before I slept, I touched my own Bible.

“Lord,” I said, “I really need you now more than ever. Please, Lord. Please, Jesus, give me strength. This so very hard. I am really finding it difficult. Thank you, Jesus.” I cried softly. I had to be strong for my family and neighbors.

I needed a good night’s sleep. I had only one bathroom run. I always got up early. Living on a farm would do that to you. I ate oatmeal. Having eggs every morning was a bit much for me.

The collaborative was doing well. All of us had a good amount of veggies and bread, and for a few days, we had cooked meat thanks mostly to Vivian’s mom. To go forward, I needed to listen to the survival radio and also get to downtown Boston. We needed a road map, a light at the end of the tunnel.

Alice was in the kitchen. She was talking to Jessica and preparing breakfast for Randy. I took the radio outside. The sundial showed 8:15 a.m. Human nature was a funny thing, In Nebraska, my neighbors came to me directly, and I would go to them. They would ask me directly, “Can we listen to your radio?” Here in the politically correct Boston area, there was a cat-and-mouse ritual—a casual passing, a casual nod, a slight glance from the distance. Crap, I thought, this is a collaborative. I am not the despot ruler of the clan.

It was time to end the dog and pony show, foolish games. I invited everyone who wanted to come over. It was a cloudy day in the sixties. “Mr. Henderson, you are one talented contractor,” I said to him with deep respect. “With no power tools, you and your sons built a class-act well. The Buick and sundial have made this the apex of our temple. I know it is on our land. We have to respect one another. But, we need one another: Mr. Henderson and his tools, the efforts of all in a common garden even the food and good spirits of our next door neighbor.

At this point the drunk came by. God, I was beginning to like him. I was seeing an intelligent and sensitive side to him. Behind that thespian mask, there was a quality human. He felt like he was part of something. There was now a real hunger from all of us for information. Across most of America, there was a breakdown. Without communication, we were becoming lawlessness. Was there a power vacuum? Who was the new superpower? Would we be attacked again? Where was central control? I did not blame my neighbors. I was also curious. All of us listened. The president did give a short speech. He did announce that they now knew who committed this horrible event. He also indicated that ships from different parts of the West Coast and some NATO countries were on their way. When the ships arrived, they would prioritize.

“Prioritize? What kind of crap is that?” a neighbor screamed out. “My wife and kids played by the rules. We need to be taken care of. We need to eat and survive like the rest. Damn!” He ranted while he kicked up dirt.

As a union worker and loyal liberal, he really believed in big government and the big tent. He always had bumper stickers and signs on his lawn. He always joined the political rallies that the union pushed. I have never argued with him. No one could. Where your bread was buttered was how you voted. He really was a decent man. I just thought sometimes his Kool-Aid was spiked. No government could prepare for this disaster. Yes, the New York Stock Exchange was closed. The Chicago Mercantile Exchange was also closed.

After the president spoke, the rest of the news was mixed. Russia was feeling its oats. They pushed farther. The Chinese sent a few warships to Taiwan. Our new president was gutsy. He could have sent a few ships from the Seventh Fleet to help with relief efforts. If he did, it would signal weakness. Yes, the need to save American lives was important. There was a bigger need though. If we survived this attack, there would need to be a civilized world where we could live.

The Japanese and many other countries were on high alert. There was urgent and direct talk with our consul in Taiwan. The Japanese flew a high dignitary to meet with the top commander of the US Seventh Fleet. They meet aboard an aircraft carrier. When they signed the surrender agreement after World War II, the Americans sent only tall officers. It was a face-saving gesture to Japan. It signal that the American were more physically able. This supposedly gave comfort to Japan. In reality, a bullet doesn’t care about your height. Our new president was showing signs of leadership. He sent a message to the commander. The Seventh Fleet was to stay put. In return, he pressured the government of Japan to produce survival radios and other electronic devices very quickly. Lives were at stake, and we needed to send a message to China.

Many of the NATO countries and other alliances put their air force and military on high alert. In the end it wasn’t to come to America’s aid but rather to protect themselves. In a power vacuum, the beast could smell the blood of a wounded animal. Russia’s economy was still very weak. The Russians flying over US territory was a decoy. It was all a chess game. You could give up a few rooks to capture the king. Any territory Russia took over could be a further drain on their economy.

China was in a paradox. They were more pragmatic than what most would think. They were an economic powerhouse. With more than a billion people, they needed buyers for their products. News coming to them and the rest of the world was sketchy. Everyone knew that the mortality count was in the thousands. If it started to climb to the millions, it would be a game changer. Time was of the essence. Survival was a natural instinct in animals and humans. With high-rises, the elderly, and a politically divided nation, it becomes a complicated mess.

I was in as much need of information as the others in the collaborative were. We had a good thing going. All of us needed to know the big picture. Was our little well-oiled group surviving while a tsunami was ready to engulf us? It would likely take time to learn. Like newborn cubs, we needed to wander from our protective mom to seek answers. “Damn, Boston is just a short drive,” I said. “A one-hour drive on a Sunday morning. Now to all of us, it seems there is an ocean in our way. There still has to be a government entity at the big gold dome. I promised Alice I would go to the hospital to check on her mom. Jessica knows the war zone around our little parameter. Alice and Randy have yet to be exposed to these realities. I have informed our little group of my venture tomorrow. I will pick up Officer Ryan at 8:00 a.m.” Randy wanted to come, but I told him no. We could only afford to let one of us to go at a time. The family and collaborative had to survive at all costs. Randy understood.

When one becomes emotionally drained, it is physically draining. With darkness now approaching, the sundial was of no use. It was still too early to go to bed. “Screw it,” I said. I made a couple of sandwiches. One was peanut butter. I made the other with the meat from Vivian’s mom. I knew I was not supposed to sleep right after eating, but I was emotionally done for the night. Tomorrow morning I would just drink instant coffee and eat toast. Practically speaking, I did not know what bathroom outlets would be available to me on this trip. With my wife and children, no problem, but Officer Ryan, I am not sure.

I have enough on my mind already. I didn’t need to worry about my bodily functions. It was off to bed. Actually I enjoyed sleeping with a little cool, crisp air. I was half asleep when Alice crawled into bed. She said, “Good night, dear. Please be careful. The collaborative needs you.”

She paused. “I need you,” she said with a slight tremble.

In my sleep I heard her words. It was comforting, and I really needed to hear it. She still didn’t touch me, but we were making progress. My face showed a slight smile as I dozed off.

It was a good night. I had sound sleep with just one trip to the bathroom. First light I was wide awake. The toilet still worked, but the water pressure was slowing. If we did lose water pressure, we would resort to the bucket brigade. Everyone would have fill buckets with water every day to fill the back of the toilets. At least there was a well for everyone in the collaborative. I wondered how the high-rises are faring. I got myself some instant coffee. This morning I took just two pieces of toast. My mental state and my constitution were in good shape. The sundial said it was almost 7:00 a.m. I put a little more gas in the Buick. Randy had done a good job keeping the gas cans filled. Both the Buick and generator were kept in a good supply of fuel. The Buick was still in a showroom display. He would always use high-grade oil. In the new cars, many used the synthetic oil. The Buick was all polished.

Everything seemed like a go. I walked back to the house. I thought I would arrive a little early at Officer Ryan’s home. Fifteen feet from the front door, Alice came out. This was a little out of character. I stopped in my tracks.

“Hi, hon,” I said with a little cheer.

“After you went to bed, Jessica and I talked,” she exclaimed in a solemn tone. “I have always been closer to her than Randy. I love them both. It’s just sometimes females communicate more in an emotional manner than men. I know she finally bonded with you.”

“This has been a really tough time for me,” she continued in an apologizing tone. “I always use Jessica as a sounding board. She does the same to me.”

“What are you getting at, Alice?” I said with a confused and anxious manner. “I have to go meet officer Ryan for our little trip,” I said with a little impatience.

At this point she walked up to me. She put her arms around me and started to cry.

I was in total shock. I didn’t know how to react. She cried for several minutes. I put my hands on the back of her head.

“Jessica saw something in you that I always knew,” she said and then collected herself.. “That you are strong, sensitive, caring, and good under adversity. She is now a daddy’s girl. Even Vivian and her mom can see it.” She wiped away a tear. “I know it was dangerous. I know this trip to Boston could be worse. I need you to know how proud I am of you and how much Jessica, Randy, and I love you. Please be careful.”

Her touching me was utopia. I was now vulnerable. I had to be in a good state of mind for my trip. I wish I had an hour or two just to be alone with her. Reality was a bitch. I knew the trip had to move forward as scheduled. What should I say? I needed to instill confidence that everything was going to be fine. What if I don’t come back? Should I make peace with Alice and the kids? Maybe I should have written a letter in case I did not come back alive. I collected myself. The Almighty had a path for me. If I had had these doubts a few hours ago, I would have written a letter. I put my trust in him. I knew he would keep me from evil.

“Alice, you been a great wife and mother,” I said with a loving tone. “God has blessed me with two great children. Somehow Officer Ryan is my guardian angel. Either he or someone through him is going to be my protector. I don’t know why I feel this way, but I do. It is not often I get these strong feelings, but when I do, they are always right.”

Alice nodded in approval, her arms still around me. “I know you are right,” she exclaimed. With her right hand, she grasped the back of my head and gave me a long and loving kiss. Next she pressed herself hard against me. It was as if we were one. After a good twenty seconds, she grasped my two arms and kissed me on the cheek. “You be careful, Ben. You be very careful,” she said with a strong and commanding voice.

At this point I had to turn around quickly. I did not want her to see my tears. I had to show strength. Maybe it was a man thing. There were a lot of things I could have said to her, but my mind turned quickly. I had to show confidence and a little leadership.

As I walked a good ten feet away, I collected myself. “We have a lot of stops. I will not only go to the hospital, but I have to make a few stops on officer Ryan’s behalf. I should be home by dusk. Love you, honey,” I said proudly without breaking down.

I was on my mission. I got in my car and started the engine. Damn, it purrs like a well-padded kitten. Randy really has a masterpiece with this Buick. Just one broken side mirror. Officer Ryan house was just two miles away. It was three maybe four minutes away by car, and I arrived a good fifteen minutes early. It was a small but well-kept ranch, and I pulled in his driveway when I got there. The grass and hedges were growing.

Unless he had a simple lawn mower, he would have to let the lawn go just like the rest of us. I turned the key off. Officer Ryan came out. To my shock, another police officer came out. He was tall and a good ten years the senior to Officer Ryan. Not only was he in good shape, but his uniform was clean and pressed too. He had a short haircut, and he was clean-shaven. Damn, I thought as my stomach got a queasy feeling.

Bones called Spock in his little communicator. “Spock here,” he said.

“Beam me up, Spock,” Bones said with clarity.

“What is it?” Spock answered as he sat in the commander chair aboard the Enterprise.

“There seems to be a few humans in unbelievably pristine attire in this nuclear disaster of a planet,” Bones said in an unmistakable tone.

“Hmm, not logical,” Spock said. “You need to find out an explanation before I will allow you to beam up. Spock over and out,”

Spock said with authority.

Damn, what the f–. Both Ryan and his friend had two duffel bags.

“Good morning, Mr. Randal” Officer Ryan commented with a strong and confident voice. “This is Lieutenant Mallard. He will be joining us today.” It was as if I had no say in the manner.

“Good morning. Nice to meet you,” the lieutenant said with a voice of a strong leader.

The lieutenant signaled to Officer Ryan. “Oh yeah, I almost forgot.

I’ll be right back,” Office Ryan said in an obliging manner.

Officer Ryan went into his house and came back with two large banners.

On a light blue background and printed in dark blue, the banners read, “State Police.” Each one also had the state seal. Both Officer Ryan and Lieutenant Mallard attached each banner to the front and back of the car. Damn, I thought. They are commandeering my car. Just two miles from my house, I am being bushwhacked. I need to call the posse (my collaborative) for help. If I had had a whistle and they could hear it, they could come to my rescue. They would make it a few hundred yards. Most were out of shape and would collapse before they made it to William’s house. Most of them would be moaning and breathing heavily by then. They would simply say, “Forget about it. Ben is on his own.”

“Mr. Randal, Officer Ryan has told me a lot about you,” the lieutenant said.

I had a lump in my throat. Here we go. It felt like I was flunking a test or being dumped by a pretty girlfriend. They’re going to take Randy’s car. I’m outgunned. Besides their guns are bigger than mine.

“We have a symbiotic relationship. You need to get into Boston safely, and I need a ride for official business. I need to get to government center, and you need to get to a hospital in Boston,” he continued with a direct and informative tone. “Were you in the armed services, Mr. Randal?” he asked..

“Yes, I was. US Army … three years. And you, Lieutenant?”

“I was in special services … and trained as a sniper. Two tours in Iraq,” the lieutenant said with a slow and modest tone.

Both Officer Ryan and the lieutenant had side arms. Officer Ryan took a shotgun with him. The lieutenant had a rifle with a scope. The bullet would follow his red line.

The lieutenant sat in the front passenger seat and Office Ryan sat in the back. I had bookends—two Captain Americas. Will Smith just had one when he tried to take the exam to become an agent for Men in Black. I turned over the key. Randy sure kept this fine machine tuned.

I pulled out of Officer Ryan’s driveway and onto a side street. There were not many cars on this end of the street. “Mr. Randal, please take a right here,” he said as if he has a Sears, Roebuck & Company license.

“You know every time when we secured land in a hostile area, we made sure there was a main supply route. That route was always well guarded,” he said in order to keep me informed. “Napoleon, Stalin, even here in the blizzard of ’78, we did it. That route is a lifeline. Right now I know the best way to get to downtown Boston.” There were also some very bad people who knew this information.

At this point I was more receptive to the lieutenant giving me directions. He tried making small talk. He asked how long I had lived in Boston and if I missed Nebraska. At this point his pressed uniform and haircut were gnawing at me. A little four-inch angel appeared on my left ear. She was dressed in a white rob and halo over her head. “You need to be informed,” said the four-inch angel.

Next a four-inch devil appeared on my right ear. He was dressed in black and held a fiery fork. “You can’t afford to be informed,” hissed the little devil.

The white robe angel with the halo put her hands on her hips. She had a stern look. Next she drifted up a good six inches. She was over my head and in direct line with the devil. She took out a ray gun that was almost half her height. She vaporized the devil and then drifted down to my left ear.

“Spock says, ‘Not logical.’ You need to be informed,” whispered the little angel.

Damn, you’re right. I need to be informed. How do I do this? Should I do it in the politically correct way? I have to do a little song and dance. Maybe I can ask the lieutenant if he is going to the finals of the mud-wrestling tournament. Or maybe I can offer him front-row seats to a Gallagher show. Gallagher likes to smash watermelons with a sledgehammer. I looked at his big gun. Screw it. I am from Nebraska. I’ ll be blunt.

“Lieutenant, if I can be so bold,” I said slowly and firmly “Yes, Mr. Randal,” he commented with complete confidence in himself.

“How is it when we are in a nuclear containment zone? Everything electronic and electrical has ceased. Millions of cockroaches are spiking the footballs. It’s halftime, and you come out of the locker room. You have a new pressed uniform, a haircut, and a shower shave. It’s like you’re on a different channel than the rest of us.” I finished my tirade with trepidation.

With a slight chuckle, the lieutenant answered, “You see, Mr.

Randal, when the nuke went off, I was in shock and as stymied as you were. I checked with my neighbors. Cars, radios—there was nothing.

The next day my commander bicycled down to my house. You see, he is an exercise fanatic.”

Under my breadth, I said, “Like the lieutenant is not obsessive about his physique.”

“The commander had a secured Faraday line. It was a FEMA protocol. He explained what happened. He told me that this was no drill. There were priorities that were in place,” the lieutenant explained clearly.

“Well, Lieutenant, thank you,” I politely answered as he pointed for me to take a turn. “Sounds like your commander at the barracks is reading the same cue card as the president,” I continued as I dodged another stalled car.

The lieutenant laughed as I went between a few more stalled cars. “Pharmacies, hospitals, nursing homes, the elderly—I guess the list is pretty large, wouldn’t you say, Mr. Randal?” The lieutenant talked like he was the adversary. “You see, Mr. Randal,” he continued as he pointed to another turn. “It is the correctional institutions that this commander was most concerned with. Many of the guards did not show up. We also had many troopers that did not show up for days. Those who did not report after three to four days were considered AWOL,” he said with great authority. “To serve and protect—that has to mean something. If not, then we are doomed as a proud and free country.”

“Officer Ryan and I went to the correction facility,” he said with a little anger in his voice. “It was extremely tense. Some of the inmates became extremely violent. For several hours our lives were on the line. The warden and I had to make hard decisions. We both agreed that 35 percent of the prisoners had to be set free.” He pointed for me to make another right. “The warden was brilliant. The prisoners that were set free were offered a choice. If they stayed and helped, the warden would offer them a clean CORI if our country would get back on the grid.” “Oh, as for my duds and haircut,” he then said. “We have several gas generators. Snow and ice storms always knocked out the power. Morale has to be kept up. The laundry room and kitchen still functioned a few hours a day. We have to care for them, or the riots will really intensify. Food and water are rationed. The state has a limited supply. A few ships will arrive shortly under the cover of darkness.” He pointed for me to make yet another turn.

Boston was just like many other cities. They had an outer beltway and inner beltway. Driving on the outer beltway would allow us to bypass most of the heavy traffic. However, it was a longer route. Once you crossed into the inner beltway, you were coming to outskirts of the city. This was standard with most cities on the East Coast. We were crossing that inner beltway now.

“Mr. Randal, please turn down this residential street,” the lieutenant commanded As we turned, several brick apartment buildings came into view. As we came up to the one on the left, the three of us saw something very sickening. In the parking lot of the apartment building, there were stalled cars. Perhaps up to three-fourths were still empty. Many had left that morning for work or school. Toward the end of the parking lot, we saw three corpses.

All the apartment buildings in Massachusetts were under rigorous regulations. Very seldom would one see debris lying around. The Board of Health gave out warnings and then citations. There were also a lot of fire and building regulations. This really created a large expense to the landlords. In turn, they had to figure this cost into the rents. There were constant evictions and many hardships. With a low-paying job, one could not afford these high rents.

Now there was litter everywhere. There were broken windows and a dreadful stench. We drove very slowly. We could see the corpses and a scrawny dog.

All the corpses belonged to young male. One was white, and the other two were minorities. The sickening part was there was a dog grabbing the arm of one of the deceased. The dog was trying to pull the body, but to no avail. It was scrawny and desperate. Lieutenant Mallard told me to pull in. Within fifty feet of the dog, he ordered me to stop. He slowly exited the car.

Never taking his eye off the dog, he walked slowly toward it. The scrawny dog sensed the intruder. Slowly the dog turned its head. Then crouched and snarling, the dog dug in. It seemed that this was his.

At this point he pulled out his revolver. To me, all life was precious, even that of animals. A rabid dog, a sick dog, or a dog that draws blood is usually put down. Some animal lovers would take their animals across the state line to New Hampshire. It seemed their laws were different, which is strange because New Hampshire was a lot more conservative. They just seemed more lenient with dogs. In Nebraska, I always lived with dogs. They served not only as pets but as a warning system too. When I moved here, I never wanted a dog. The homes were too close. The highways were busy, and neighbors complained about barking.

As you enter New Hampshire, it is all congested. In a short drive, the houses spread out. It is a different existence than Massachusetts. The snowfall and cold are much more extreme. It really is a state for the outdoorsman (or woman). There’s snowmobiling, hunting, hiking, camping, and shooting. It is a beautiful state, but when the fall leaves turn color. It is really God’s panoramic shot. Parts of New England and Japan have the best color changes in the world.

I did not cover my ears. I could not look as the lieutenant put the dog down. It was just one humane shot. He then walked to the car and signaled to Officer Ryan. They opened the trunk. The lieutenant took out two body bags. He also had gloves and two masks. The two officers put their masks and gloves on. Office Ryan had a small bag of a white powdery substance. With great respect, they placed two of the three in body bags. Officer Ryan sprinkled the white powder on all three bodies. My guess was that it was lye. It would kill the scent so stray animals wouldn’t go after them. Both Officer Ryan and the lieutenant placed the bodies at the end of the parking lot.

The lieutenant picked up the casing to the spent cartridge. He slowly walked back, wearing a very solemn look.

“Mr. Randal, your best guess as to what time it is.” He took out his pen and notepad.

“My best guess it is 9: 30 a.m.,” I told him with confidence.

The lieutenant wrote down the time. He walked out to the street to see what landmarks he could see. He carefully drew a diagram of the building and where we would leave the corpses. Man, this really sucks. I just wanted to check on my mother-in-law and give a ride to the two officers. There is no rubbish being picked up, no traffic. To me, this was not normal. We were in a highly populated area. There should have been countless people walking around.

The noise of the spent bullet did seem to draw attention. As we looked up at the various apartments, we could see people looking out from the windows. The lieutenant was very savvy. He told us that he would walk from here. He went back into the trunk and pulled out two bulletproof vests. He put one on, and so did Officer Ryan. I looked at the lieutenant with a little anger.

“What am I? A sacrifice? An expendable, useless chauffeur?” I said as I looked him in the eye.

“You worry too much, Mr. Randal.” He went into the trunk and pulled a third bulletproof vest. “Really, Mr. Randal, you will be the safest of the three of us,” he said assuredly.

“Why is that?” I asked as I put on my chest protector.

“There are some very bad people who know we are here.” He got his rifle with the scope on it. “They want your car more than they want weed, crack, or anything else. Your car is the granddaddy. It is one thing that they can use to make themselves feel really important,” The lieutenant said as he checked his rifle and his sidearm.

“Should I get the shotgun out?” Officer Ryan asked the lieutenant. “Yes, I will start walking first on the left side of the road. You will be behind me on the other side. Stay around fifty behind me,” the lieutenant said. It sounded like he had done this before.

“Mr. Randal, you stay fifteen feet behind Officer Ryan. You should be fine. They want the Buick without bullet holes. That means they have to go through me and Officer Ryan. They know if we are going into Boston, we are also coming back this way,” he said without much emotion. “I have dealt with a lot worse.”

The lieutenant started to walk, looking through his scope. When he got about fifty ahead, he signaled for Officer Ryan to start walking. I was very tense. The lieutenant was at high alert. He seemed very confident. After he walked a good twenty minutes, we saw a few of the young gang members. They were on top of the roof of a four-story brick building.

First there were three. The lieutenant signaled for us to stop. Then five more came out. Damn, there were eight of them all with 9mm guns. No wonder there were no people around. This was a lot worse than Providence. They were all young males, mostly minorities, but two were white.

“You’d better be bringing that Buick for us. These are our streets,” their leader said.

The lieutenant, who was as cool as cucumber, raised his rifle and walked toward them. God, what big brass ones he has. He stopped about sixty feet in front of them.

“Go ahead. There aren’t enough of you. I am fast and extremely accurate. He turned on the red beam. Instead of shining it against the leader’s head, he pointed it at the man’s chest. This way he could see the beam on him. Four of his followers turned tail and ran. “Come on. Let’s get this over with. Your gang is going to need a new leader in five seconds.” The lieutenant took complete control.

He started to count loudly and fast. Five. Four. Three. At this point they all left except for one. He was a big dude, not the leader but definitely a bully and thug. The lieutenant pulled out his revolver and ran after him. As he entered the door of the building, Officer Ryan ran to the front of the building. I pulled the Buick closer. I held on to my rifle. After a tense three to four minutes, the lieutenant came back out. “All clear. They are cowards. They like to terrorize innocent people. They figured we were a special tactical unit,” he said as he continued to look around. “I have been ordered not to shoot unless they shoot at me. That is a bunch of crap. This is the main road coming in and out of Boston. We are in a state of emergency. These maggots have to be dealt with. The commander and governor needs to know how grave this is.”

We traveled another hour on foot. There were no people for almost a half an hour. Finally as we got closer to downtown, we started to see people walking on foot. Up ahead we saw a barrier. Behind the barrier there were several personnel members from an army guard unit. The sergeant signaled for us to stop.

“You made it through the little war zone,” the sergeant said as he walked around the car. “Open up the trunk please.” He checked the lieutenant and Officer Ryan’s IDs. “Nice Buick,” he said as he was finishing his inspection.

“Somebody has to help those civilians that are trapped back there,” the lieutenant said to the sergeant.” If something is not done soon, they will die. They are afraid to come out of their apartments for fear of being robbed and shot.”

“We know the situation is bad. We have orders not to shoot at civilians unless someone shots at us. There is also a jurisdiction problem. Someone has to explain this to the governor. We are trying to get a few armored units that work,” the sergeant remarked as he waved us on.

Driving from this point on was safe. Hundreds of people were walking and milling around. Traffic consisted mostly of bicycles and Rollerblades. We saw a few vintage cars too.

Like ours, most have a state police banner on them. Hopefully they had not been confiscated. I really was afraid to ask. It might open up a box of worms. We drove at a slow pace.

It was weird. Hundreds and hundreds of people eyed us. Both the lieutenant and Officer Ryan pulled their revolvers out. They both kept them in their laps. All of us were nervous about any kind of flash mob. I had never seen so many young coeds. I think Randy could have had a field day out here with his Buick. I knew I had to keep this to myself. He was a good boy. I didn’t want him to turn to the wild side.

The whole area seems to be clean. There were many volunteers wearing armbands. They had various duties. Some were cleaning the trash. Others were trying to move the stalled vehicles out of the way. At least the inner city seemed safe. When we drove within a mile of the government center, we saw two lines of people. At the end of each line, there were local police with rifles and dogs. It was a food line. It was a basic meal of meat veggies and very little meat. Good water seemed to be in short supply. I would be afraid to give the city water even to an animal. The other line was a heck of a bit shorter. It was a VIP line for volunteers with armbands.

I did bring two bottles of spring water. Man, I did not realize how valuable that water run turned out to be. I was using one for the three of us, and I would use the other to barter with when I reach the hospital. The day was cloudy with light rain. Here in Boston, there was a somber dress code. At least it was today. Light jackets and sweaters seemed to be the rule. The state color should have been gray, not blue. College kids and yuppies dressed a little cheerier. Most big money people, like lawyers, doctors and financial analysts wore gray or black suits. It was the musicians and professional athlete who dress to kill. Their outfits were like big neon signs that said, “Look at me. Aren’t I great?” The doctors, lawyers, and financial wizards tried to stay under the radar. After all, they took a good part of our money.

After a few more miles, we are at the government center. It was another emotionally draining trip. Survival was taking its toll on all of us. No small talk, just silence. No radios, just the car engine. It was almost like being among the walking dead. After several more minutes, we came to another barrier. This time it was the inner sanctum of the deal makers—the nerve center of our state. It was like being in the green zone of Baghdad. We had to park our car and proceed on foot for the last three or four blocks.

The street was blocked off. The staff removed out the stall cars. The area was made into official parking lot with twenty-four-hour security. There was only one way in and one way out. Guards with rifles stood at both exits. There were several other vintage cars and vintage motorcycles. There were also two cruisers from Bangor, Maine. The EMP must not have affected them. Everyone who parked here needed an escort to the governor’s office.

“Mr. Randal, Officer Ryan and I are going up to meet with the governor,” the lieutenant said to me as he received a receipt for the Buick. “The hospital that you want to go to is about a twenty-minute bike ride from here.”

“Bike ride? What the hell!” I said in bewilderment.

“Yes, Mr. Randal, a bike ride. You are gracious with your car. If you drive and park your car there, it will be gone within a few minutes. I will send a patrolman with two bikes. One for you and one for him,” the lieutenant said with a firm voice.

“But I have a gallon of spring water and a little food to barter with the doctors,” I said.

“That’s fine. We have baskets for carrying parcels. It is a common thing,” the lieutenant said as he started walking away. “We’ll meet here at fourteen hundred hours.”

“You mean 2:00 p.m., Lieutenant? We’re not in the military anymore,” I said, but I doubted he heard me. How the crap do I know when two o’clock is without a watch or cell phone? I thought. This is really getting complicated. Why couldn’t we keep this simple? I could drop the two officers off and go to the hospital. I would check things out and get back to Alice by lunch. Now I had to wait for a patrolman and take a bike ride. It felt like I was part of the Brady bunch. Right now I could take a shot of whiskey just to calm my nerves.

I waited for close to thirty minutes in a parking lot with guards that look like they could be serving at Buckingham Palace. At least they could have let me back onto the main street. There was no TV so that I can look at the coeds. That could have made for thirty minutes of blissful memories. God created those pretty little creatures so that men could smile. Once they smiled, the dentist could say, “Oh boy, do you have a credit card on you?”

I looked up, and there was the patrolman with two bikes. Mine had a basket in the front. At least it was not a woman’s bike. In this politically correct world, anything would fly. Even Milton Burrill, a famous actor, dressed as a woman almost a century ago. It was his shtick. I did not care for it, but it was accepted then. Nowadays it’s like Sadie Hawkins day occurs multiple times a year.

The patrolman handed me the bike with a basket attached. We also had two chains with locks on them.

“You have a .22 rifle with you,” the patrolman said as he pulled out a strap. “I don’t think you will need it around here, but it is good to have. If anyone did see us, they would likely back off.” He also gave me a light jacket with state police on it. He indicated to me that it would make this venture less complicated, which was music to my ears. He was in good shape. He was middle-aged but not a jock. It looked like he ate donuts with his coffee. At least his morning coffee. God gave me a reprieve. No more Captain Americas. If we ever get back to normal, I would have two quests. One would be to find that Indian chief from Connecticut and thank him all over again. The second would be to find each of the policemen who helped me and buy them a cup of coffee. In honesty, the lieutenant had gained my respect. I wished they still had the red light district. I could buy him two tickets as a thank-you gift. Knowing him, he would arrest me for corruption.

Multitudes of people all stared as we biked past. Food and water were on most of their minds. The patrol man peddled only to meet my speed. He could undoubtedly beat me in a short-or long-distance ride. As we rode, I noticed that even a few miles from the green zone (my interpretation) was clean of debris and cars. Food and water were the driving forces … along with boredom.

As we came up to the hospital, I could see the guards in front. There was also a desk outside with a chair and umbrella. The triage nurse was sitting outside. We both dismounted our bikes and walked to the front.

The patrolman told me to be quiet. He would do the talking.

“Hi, we are here on official business,” the patrolman said.

“Fine,” the triage nurse said. “No guns inside. Only correctional officers with prisoners. They must have a seal from the warden. We are in a state of emergency” she declared. “I am very sorry. We are understaffed. The doctors and nurses who did come back are anxious.”

The patrolman could absolutely identify with her. The governor’s office was also understaffed and overworked.

“Mr. Randal, I will wait here with the two bikes and your rifle,” the patrolman said. “You have forty-five minutes. That’s it, and then we’ve got to bike back,” he said as he looked at a watch someone had loaned to him. It was giving, along with two patrol cars, from the Bangor Police Department.

“Got it,” I said as I got the water and food that Alice had prepared for bartering. I entered the hospital. Damn, I thought, what a smell. It seems more like the Bates Motel than a hospital. First thing’s first. I had to urinate badly. I found a bathroom that worked. I had not used a bathroom since 8:00 a.m. No Dunkin’ Donuts or Starbucks.

The police were with me at all times, so I could not go behind a building. The bathroom smell was bad. But Mother Nature held the trump card. I stepped up to the urinal and kept singing, “Oh, what a relief it is.”

Then I washed my hands. Damn, no paper towel and no hand blower. I washed my hands anyway. The hospital still had hand sanitizer. That constant noise from gas generators would drive anyone nuts. The few nurses and doctors were all running and looked haggard. I asked several nurses and one doctor to find Alice’s mother. No one knew. No computers or phones made the situation very challenging. I was finally directed to the third floor. The intake staff could possibly help me.

“Can you help me locate a patient please?” I politely asked the staff member.

“I am not sure. Give me a name, and I will try,” the staff member said.

I gave her Alice’s mother’s name.

“She is eighty-three, five-foot-three with a slight figure,” I described for the man.

“I remember her. She was due for a bypass surgery. The doctor was having a hard time with the limited staff and equipment. We have not seen the doctor for the past two days,” the staff member said with a bit of sadness. “I can direct you to a resident doctor. He was learning and practicing under him,” the staff member said, trying to help.

Carrying my gallon of spring water and food, I located the resident doctor on the second floor.

“Excuse me, Doc,” I said firmly. “I am the son-in-law of an eighty- three-year-old patient you had.” Then I pulled out my ID.

“Yes, I remember,” he said with his head down.” She was to have a simple bypass surgery. We could not line up enough support technicians and equipment to do the operation,” he said softly. “The doctor was called into another hospital that had everything in place. I am very sorry. She passed away without pain. We spend our lives trying to save people. Now we are forced to make hard and painful decisions. She is down in the basement. We are running out of room for the deceased,” he said with a tinge of anger. “We can smell the corpse up to the third floor. We have gas generators. We need someone to handle the deceased.”

“Doc, I need syringes and insulin. It is for a seventies-plus diabetic.” I held my hand over my face with disbelief.

“We have a protocol to help the younger people first. It is from the surgeon general in Washington. I think it is from the past administration,” he said calmly.

“Look, Doc. Fresh spring water and also some freshly cooked food. I will trade it for thee syringes and insulin.” I still had my hand on my face. “Really, Doc, water and food represent life. Syringes and insulin will save a life,” I said in a determined way.

“All right, Mr. Randal, you have gone through a lot,” the doc said with compassion. “Here is a slip. The pharmacy is on the second floor. Do not mention the age of you friend.” As he accepted the water and food, he said, “I do not make the rules. It’s not my pay grade.”

God, the pain did not end. There was a battery clock on the second floor. I had ten minutes left. Alice was in a fragile state. This was going to be hard on her—not being with her mom when she passed. I ran to the second floor. The pharmacist said he would be with me in a few minutes. He was filling a few other orders.

“Look, there is a police escort outside from the governor’s office. They want me out there in less than ten minutes. They are very strict. Go look for yourself,” I said to the pharmacist.

“Here, Mr. Randal.” He came from back of the room.” These syringes will work. We do not have the insulin the doctor wrote up. I am giving you a different one. It will work, just not as well as the other one. One is for an older person,” he said as if to get rid of me.

I started to panic. I only had a few minutes left. I ran up to the front desk.

“What happens to the deceased?” I said “We store them in the bottom floor. A technician is trying to preserve them, My guess is they will be put in a pauper’s grave. It is not a good scene. There is a careful log of everything,” the receptionist declared.

I ran outside. The patrolman was still there.

“You’re two minutes late,” the patrolman said as he looked at his watch. “How did it go?”

“Mixed, very mixed,” I answered him as I put the package in my basket.

I slung the rifle over my shoulder and mounted my bike. We were off. Both of us peddled a little fast. The 2:00 p.m. deadline was coming fast. It was all right weather for a bike ride—cool with on-and-off rain showers. We biked by hundreds of people. There were no incidents.

We pulled into the parking lot. The lieutenant and Officer Ryan were both there.

“Good timing, Mr. Randall,” the lieutenant said as he walked over to the Buick.

I took the package out of the basket. I handed back the bike to the patrolman. I wanted to kiss the Buick, but I was sure they would think I was weird.

“Mr. Randall, one more stop before we go back,” the lieutenant said.

Both had bought their duffle bags back. I think there was a good exchange.

The lieutenant bought some plans with him. He also came back with a few need supplies.

As I entered the Buick, I put the package under my seat. I put the rifle on the dashboard.

I could get at it right away. It was also a signal to any potential thugs.

The lieutenant directed me to our next stop. It was another hospital.

This time we were visiting his commander.

It was a good ten-minute ride from where we were.

We saw the volunteers with the armbands. They were trying to move some more stalled cars out of the way. It was hard business, but these streets were a lot easier to navigate. We came up to the front entrance of the hospital. Mostly people were walking, but with the state police banners, we just parked out front. They had a similar setup. The number of people trying to enter the hospital had greatly increased.

With guards and a triage nurse outside, they could weed out a lot of people. There was also a staffing problem. Many nurses, maintenance men, janitors, and even a few doctors did not show up. Without proper equipment, salaries, and public transportation, there was little incentive to show up.

The lieutenant said he needed thirty-five to forty minutes inside the hospital. Officer Ryan and I waited by the car. As the lieutenant headed inside, I noticed a large gathering about three to four blocks away. I told Officer Ryan I would like to check it out. I would stay in eyesight of him. I grabbed my keys and took my rifle with me. I slung the rifle over my right shoulder. I was not going to leave the keys with anyone, period. My family, collaborative, and my self-worth depended on those keys. Before we used to never leave home without a cell phone and your AAA card. Now it came to even a simpler need—a rifle and a set of keys. It was sad. It was one small step for the one who set off the nuke … and one giant step backward for mankind.

I walked toward the large group of people. There was a large screen on the side of the building. Damn, some tech nerd hooked up a small generator. As information came in over the survival radio or by some other secured means the nerd’s video setup made it public. Information kept us sane.

It prevents anxiety and connects us to the outside world. Man, how hard was it for Lewis and Clark? They set out to explore without any contact. I was very careful. I did not want to be jumped. I did still have the state police jacket. Next to me there was a tall African man. He had a slight build and short haircut.

I said hello to him, and he spoke in broken English.

“I am from Kenya, and I came to win my big check,” commented the polite Kenyan.

“Big check?” I asked with curiosity in my voice.

“Yes, a very big check. The winner of the Boston Marathon receives a very large check,” he said with a slight sadness. “I have trained very hard. I was in the hotel when the nuke went off.”

“What happens to you now” I asked with compassion.

“Our consulate is at the same hotel as I am. We have contacted the Canadian embassy. They are sending three buses down from Montreal.

As a courtesy to Boston Marathon, they will donate two of the buses. I will leave with several other foreigners.”

“That will be good for you,” I said with upmost admiration.

“Yes, it will be great. Electricity, TV, transportation, food, newspapers, I miss it. America, so many people dream of coming here.

I hope you can bring back your greatness,” he said.

I said good-bye to him. It had been a good fifteen to twenty minutes.

I hoped when the lieutenant came out, he looked at the hospital clock.

The staff there had the ones with batteries in them. I opened the front door. I took off my rifle and put it next to me. I kept the keys in my left pocket. I did not want to hurt Officer Ryan’s feelings. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him. The keys were just extremely sacred. Only I and Randy were to touch them and have them—period.

The lieutenant came out with a smile on his face. “Good news,” Officer Ryan said with a jubilant look.

“Yes, very good news. She is doing well,” said the lieutenant.

I had mixed emotions as I started the Buick. Alice’s mom was gone, and I had to tell her. Still I was haunted by the death of the angry bitch.

And we still had to traverse the war zone to get back.

We traveled for several miles, and now we were at the outer barrier.

We stopped the car for the guardsmen. They had to inspect all of the vehicles coming and going. They wished us good luck and Godspeed.

The lieutenant did inform them that he had a talk with the governor’s top people. They had several vintage cars, motorcycles, and a few army vehicles that had Faraday protection. They would soon bring in rice, water, bread, and a squadron of highly trained force. The governor knew that this main route needed to be protected.

As we drove off, the lieutenant said to Officer Ryan and me, “I told the governor that if he gave me the green light, I could handle this in one night. I think he was afraid of his poll numbers. We started to drive slower. There were less and less people. It became very quiet. I drove even slower. Occasionally we saw an window open. All the people felt terrorized. I wanted to tell them that help was coming tomorrow. If we did that, these thugs would start breaking into their apartments tonight.

We passed the area where we saw them last. The lieutenant signaled us to stop. This time he played it differently. He walked on the left, and Officer Ryan walked on the right. I followed close by, driving very slowly. Ten minutes went by, and there was nothing. We were still on high alert. We crawled around the bend. Then those dark evildoers came out of the shadows. The lieutenant sprang into action. If we were too defensive, they would pick us off. The lieutenant ran toward them.

He stopped and put his finger in his mouth. The he checked the wind direction. This time he saw the same big bully. Instinct told him that he was the head of the snake. We knew that if we cut off the head, the snake would die. It was a real dilemma. There were hundreds of people inside those apartments. They would become future witnesses of whatever happened.

The lieutenant knew this. He had to get the bully to shoot first. He was a good one hundred feet away. It would be an almost impossible shot for the bully with his 9mm. The lieutenant knew it was a shot he had made hundreds of time. He waved his hand toward his face. He was egging the bully on to take a shot. Even an Olympic shooter would have a hard time making the shot. Nothing happened. The lieutenant stepped in another ten yards. He held the rifle with his right hand. He waved his left hand toward his face. This time Officer Ryan got a pair of big ones. He walked up to the lieutenant and then pointed his shotgun at the bully.

In reality, a shotgun at this distance was useless, but the rifle with the red light was a game changer. Officer Ryan stepped another five feet to the side. The bully was now in a cross fire. The other maggots were backing off. The lieutenant really wanted to pick him off. However, if he shot first, the truth would come out later. It would have been the end of his career. There were no face-saving measures for the bully. He was mad. He lowered his gun and waved his hand in a disgusted manner. This bully was pure evil, and the lieutenant needed to let the proper authorities know.

His two tours in Iraq had taught him a lot about the streets. Evil was evil. You couldn’t talk to evil or reason with evil. If you didn’t eradicate evil, it would spread. Officer Ryan and the lieutenant walked back to the car. This time the lieutenant sat on the hood on the passenger side.

Officer Ryan sat inside with the window open. I drove at fifteen miles per hour. It was a lot faster than walking. At this speed the lieutenant could handle the lookout. After several hundred yards, the lieutenant signaled for me to stop. He got inside. Now I could drive at normal speed.

Honestly I didn’t want to go through that again. I have always respected our soldiers who fought to keep us free. They deserve the best we can give them. We approached the first inner beltway. We were now safe and headed home. I was not sure of the exact time, but it must have been a little after 4:00 p.m. It was an eventful day. I was really sad about Alice’s mother. If the tactical team showed up tomorrow, it would be great. The lieutenant had a Faraday line in the barracks. He had a good friend who would be on the patrol too. If a convicted killer escaped from a prison, there were different rules of engagement. The authorities could shoot first.

All three of us felt this bully had already taken innocent lives. All of us thought that the three corpses were the result of the bully’s actions. I felt the governor would give his friend the go-ahead. Even though I was emotionally drained, I had accomplished a lot. Many lives would be saved. I wanted to go back to Alice and my family. No more house calls just mail in the money the doctor said.