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Colonel Harris rode in the passenger seat of the MRAP as the mile-long column of Humvees, MRAPS, buses, and supply vehicles rolled into Warren. He looked intently across the river, the early morning light hazing the thick bullet-resistant glass, as the long procession made its way across the bridge to his right. The lumbering MRAP rolled to the left as the young corporal next to him made a sharp right turn, following the procession onto the bridge. They entered Warren from the south and slowly drove past the United Refinery, then made a loop through the town to see what they were dealing with. Bruce would normally have expected to see throngs of people rushing out of their houses begging for food, but his intel was apparently correct. The eerie, motionless silence was almost worse.
Yesterday at dawn, when they left for Warren, Colonel Harris had ordered three up-armored Humvees to scout ahead on the day-long trip from Wilmington. They had only encountered one location where a roadblock had been set up yet encountered no resistance. If it had been an ambush location, it was either deserted or the men were lying low while the column of military vehicles passed. It didn't take long to clear the roadblock, and the procession continued with the three Humvees scouting the route ahead. They were the first to reach Warren and had observed the city from a distance for a while before making a cannonball run through the center of town in the waning daylight. When the full column arrived, they had informed Colonel Harris that the town appeared to be abandoned, as far as they could tell. With life revolving around the sun’s schedule, they set up a temporary camp not far from town to get some sleep and make entry at first light. Now, as they finished the first loop and entered the town a second time—headed for their final destination, the Warren State Hospital—Colonel Harris finally noticed some movement.
They were passing by the refinery again, which from the road looked to be untouched, and were entering a more residential area when he noticed a man on the side of the road ahead, waving his hat as the convoy passed. He looked like he was standing along a parade route and cheering them. As the MRAP came closer, Bruce noticed the man was quite elderly with white hair; he was waving an old olive drab military-style cap with buttons.
“Stop the convoy!” Bruce shouted loudly over the noise of the MRAP to Sammy, who was seated behind him. Bruce heard Sammy re-lay the message over the handheld radio. The procession came to a halt with Bruce staring out the window into the eyes of the old man. The man’s eyes were a piercing blue below thick white eyebrows, yet his face was completely sunken in, like that of a cancer patient or a Holocaust survivor. His white hair was shaggy and matted down on his head from the VFW hat he held in his left hand. He smiled at Bruce and slowly raised his hand in a salute. The man’s clothes were ragged and hung off his body as if they were five sizes too big with the end of his belt hanging down a foot in front of him. Bruce smiled back at the man and returned the salute politely.
“Is this wise?” Sammy said behind his ear as he leaned forward. “I could always have someone pick him up later....”
“No, I want to speak to him,” Bruce answered. “Set up a perimeter.”
Sammy hollered out orders to the six soldiers in the rear of the MRAP and radioed to the men in the two Humvees directly in front of them. Lieutenant Jenkins watched Bruce curiously from the back seat but didn't say anything about the strange order to stop the procession for a single old man. Bruce didn't really care what Lieutenant Jenkins thought and had been doing his best to ignore the man who had become his shadow. Unlike a real shadow, this one had the ability to speak and was constantly questioning everything Colonel Harris did. He wasn't rude about it and never did it in front of subordinates, but his constant questions were really getting on Bruce's nerves. Bruce stared out the window and couldn’t take his eyes off the sad picture of the elderly man before him. The man kind of jostled from one foot to the next in a small nervous hop, but never stopped smiling. Bruce couldn’t look away. He had been on numerous patrols around Wilmington and had seen a lot of sick and starving people, but this old man had him transfixed.
Movement brought Bruce out of his trance as the men from the two Humvees in front of him exited the vehicles and quickly ran for the cover of the decorative stone wall to their right. Suddenly, two of the men rushed forward and roughly pushed the old man to the ground, searching him for weapons. Bruce instinctively threw his shoulder against the two hundred pound passenger door and pushed. It opened too slowly, but he started shouting anyway. “Hey! HEY! Go easy with that man!” In response, one of the soldiers held up a small pocket knife he had pulled out of the man’s pocket as if trying to verify the threat. “I don’t care, Corporal!” he yelled as he leaned out of the vehicle. “Give it back and help him sit up!” he ordered. The two young soldiers complied sheepishly and helped the man to a sitting position.
Sammy leaned forward and caught Bruce’s sleeve. “Colonel, shut the door please. These men know what they are doing and we don’t have a perimeter set up yet. It could be a trap.”
“Really, Sammy?” Bruce said, irritated. “Someone from this town is going to attack us?”
“It’s a crazy world now, Colonel!” Sammy was yelling over the engine noise, but he didn’t seem convinced himself. Bruce watched some soldiers kick in the doors of the three houses in view and enter, looking for any threats. Sammy stayed on the radio with the rest of the convoy for updates, yet no one else had seen any other townspeople. Even with the intel the scouts had given him, Bruce had still expected an outpouring of citizens begging for food; finding this single old man had taken him aback.
The rear door of the MRAP opened and Shifty leaned in. “Perimeter secure, Major,” he informed Sammy before closing the door. Bruce exited the tall mine-resistant vehicle and walked over to the old man seated on the side of the road with a soldier standing behind him at guard. “Go away!” Bruce said gruffly as he approached, and the soldier slinked away several yards and hesitated, unsure if he should leave completely. The old man struggled to his knees and wasn’t having much success getting to his feet, all the while saluting with his right hand. “Don’t get up, old timer. Just relax there for a moment.” Bruce rushed forward and helped the man back to a seated position.
“Thank you, Colonel,” the man said weakly. Bruce let go of the man’s hand, shocked at how there was only skin and bone to the man. “These old legs of mine just don’t wanna cooperate with me no more,” he chuckled like it was funny. Bruce sat down on the curb next to the man, not sure where to even start. When he had initially stopped the column, he had wanted to question the man about the town, but now he just felt pity and sadness and sat there quietly. “Those there trucks sure are nicer than the old Jeeps we had in Nam,” the man said, breaking the silence. He handed Bruce his stained old VFW hat with a couple buttons and patches sewn on. “11th Infantry Brigade, 3rd Battalion. Saw some nasty stuff over there...but at this point, I think I would probably catch a boat ride back there if I had the choice. At least we had food.” He chuckled again, which set him to coughing. Bruce still wasn’t sure what to say, so he just nodded his head.
Sammy walked over with a look of compassion and handed the man an MRE while Lieutenant Jenkins leaned against the MRAP, watching Bruce and the old man intently. The man pulled his pocket knife out of his pocket and fumbled with the outer wrapper, trying to will his shaking hands to open the small blade. Bruce gently pulled the MRE off his lap and opened it with his own knife and handed the man an open package of crackers. The man ravaged the package of crackers, making sure to eat every crumb, all the while looking over his shoulder towards the house behind them. Shifty walked over and stood next to Sammy, whispering in his ear the details on the perimeter. Bruce also noticed that the lieutenant walked over to listen in. The LT reminded Bruce of his younger brother when they were little. His brother had been five years younger and always nipping at his heels incessantly. It had been laboriously annoying while he was growing up, but now he feared for his sibling who lived in Colorado and hoped that he was still alive.
When Bruce started to open the entrée, the man stopped him. “If it’s all the same to you, Colonel, I’d like to save that if I could. That bag there is more food than I’ve found all week and I need to take some in to my wife. She’s sick....” Bruce stuffed the entrée back into the MRE bag and handed it back to the man. Sammy slowly shook his head at Bruce while trying to be nonchalant about it. Bruce gave him an inquisitive look and Sammy motioned him over. Bruce grunted as he pressed up from the low curb and walked over to Sammy.
“They searched all three houses, Colonel. Each one is empty except for this one. There’s an old lady’s dead body in the master bedroom; it’s pretty decomposed. The poor old man’s gone crazy,” Sammy whispered in his ear and then looked down at the man sadly. Sammy’s look was one of pity and it angered Bruce. He knew that Sammy was an honorable man and had a good heart, but the condition of a former soldier just angered and reminded him of how awful the world had become. The man was struggling to get to his feet, so Bruce rushed over to help him up and handed the man back his hat.
“Thanks again, Colonel,” the man said. “I’m going to take my wife some food. You keep these young lads out of trouble and keep your heads down, alright?” Bruce nodded in return. The man placed the old cap back on his head, saluted once more and turned away; Bruce had not asked him a single question about the town. They all watched him slowly shuffle the long walkway towards the house with the dead body. He paused halfway up the walk and looked at a small trench next to the walkway before continuing on inside. Bruce wondered if the small trench had been meant for a grave which had never been finished or filled.
Bruce’s heart broke as he turned back to Sammy and Shifty. “Mount up!” he yelled his customary phrase to Shifty who ran back towards the Humvees. Once inside the MRAP, Bruce turned back to look at Sammy who had just given the order over the radio for the convoy to continue on to the Warren State Hospital. “Whatever happens, that man isn’t to be placed on the buses back to Philly! Am I understood?” Bruce yelled over the growling engine as the MRAP started moving once more.
Sammy nodded his head. “Yessir! What would you like me to do with him?”
“I don’t know yet!” Bruce said angrily, “but he won’t last a week in the Green Zone. Let’s get him some food and see if he’ll let us bury his wife for him. If he’s not completely crazy, maybe we can give him a job sweeping floors or something.”
“Sweeping floors?” Sammy questioned, confused.
“I don’t know! Just make sure he doesn’t get sent back on the buses!” Bruce hollered with finality, not wanting to discuss it any further or explain why he was disobeying a direct order from General Oates to empty the town for the sake of an old veteran. Bruce made forceful eye contact with Lieutenant Jenkins, daring the LT to report him. The lieutenant just gave a half reassuring smile and turned to look out the window. Bruce wasn't sure if he got his intent or not but decided it was best not to push the matter. He turned back around and looked out his own window.
“I’ll take care of it,” he heard Sammy say quietly in his ear from behind.
IT DIDN’T TAKE LONG before the lead vehicle reached the Warren State Hospital and the convoy stopped again. Colonel Harris had placed his highest ranking Company Commander, Capt. James Spears, in the lead with specific instructions on how to handle multiple scenarios he may encounter when reaching any sort of populace. “Whiplash, this is Captain Spears, over.” Captain Spears used Colonel Harris’s old call sign from Afghanistan and Sammy quickly handed Bruce the radio.
“This is Whiplash. Go ahead,” Bruce responded.
“Colonel, we have reached the perimeter of the Warren State Hospital but we have not approached the main gates yet. The watchtowers have sentries and there are multiple armed men standing guard at the gates. How would you like me to proceed?”
“Continue as we discussed and make contact but be careful. We don’t yet know who we are dealing with.” It made sense that the remaining townspeople would have relocated to the security of the juvenile detention facility. But at the same time, it could be a large band of looters or worse—the renegade Rangers, who were equally trained and equipped. “Take four of the MRAPs to the gates and make contact, but stay in your vehicle until you are sure that you are speaking with the mayor, over.”
“Yessir,” came the crackly voice. “We are moving forward now.” Bruce heard Captain Spears follow that by giving the orders to the three closest MRAPs behind him, two of which had fifty-caliber machine guns on the roof, mounted in turrets, and the other two had MK-19 grenade launchers. Time seemed to slow down in direct proportion to Colonel Harris’s rising anxiety, and he wished he had a visual on the situation. It seemed like hours before the captain’s voice came back over the two-way radio. “Whiplash, this is Captain Spears, over.”
“Go ahead, Captain,” Bruce answered.
“After speaking with one of the guards, the State Hospital is completely filled to overflowing with the surviving members of the town. The guard has gone to fetch the mayor as you instructed. I don’t perceive any threat at this point and I’ve ordered the guards to remove any sentries from the watchtowers in the meantime. He seems willing to comply but wants to check with the mayor first, over.”
“Okay, Captain. Let me know when the mayor shows up.” Bruce handed the radio back to Sammy and turned to the MRAP’s driver. “Corporal, I want you to move us closer to the hospital so I can see what’s going on.”
“Yes, Sir,” the young man said, placing the vehicle in gear.
“Captain Whalen, this is Major Samuelsson. Be advised, we are moving the colonel closer to the front of the convoy. Please follow us with your security detail,” Sammy ordered into the radio.
“Copy that!” Shifty replied. In response, the two Humvees and another MRAP that had been in front of theirs pulled out and followed them towards the front of the column. Major Samuelsson was an excellent XO and after years of serving together, he always took care of the details without Bruce having to say a word. Bruce couldn’t imagine not having Sammy by his side. They stopped just in front of one of the buses loaded with soldiers, their gear stacked high on the bus’s roof. Bruce took out a pair of binoculars and watched the front gate. A few minutes later, four men exited the man door next to the front gates and walked to Captain Spear’s MRAP. Captain Spears exited the vehicle along with the other six men in the MRAP and greeted a man Bruce assumed to be the mayor. They spoke for a few minutes before the captain came over the radio.
“Whiplash, this is Captain Spears. I have the mayor here with me. Would you like me to hand him the radio?” Captain Spears asked.
Sammy handed Bruce the radio. “No, that’s okay, Captain Spears. I’ll come to you. Whiplash out.” He handed the radio back to Sammy once more and nodded to the corporal next to him. The corporal pulled forward and made his way down to the gates, making sure he parked the MRAP in such a way to provide cover for the colonel as he excited the vehicle to meet the mayor.
“Mayor Thoms,” the wiry man said, rushing forward with his hand outstretched. “Man, are we glad to see you guys!”
Colonel Harris took his hand and smiled back. “I’m Colonel Harris, Commander of the 31st Infantry Regiment, Tenth Mountain Division. This is my XO, Major Samuelsson.” Sammy stepped forward and extended his hand. The man pumped Sammy’s hand, obviously full of excitement at seeing the military show up. Lieutenant Jenkins started to step forward as well, but Bruce intentionally ignored him, putting the lieutenant in the awkward position to lower his hand and take a step back.
“I sent a few men to request parts for the electric grid and some engineers, but I won’t turn down an entire Army regiment.” Mayor Thoms laughed out loud in a very booming and boisterous way, taking Bruce off guard. The mayor was probably in his late fifties and even though he was still a little overweight, like most every other American, he showed signs of being underfed and malnourished. He had greasy dark hair streaked with gray that was haphazardly combed over a balding head. He smelled as if he hadn’t taken a shower in quite some time.
Bruce smiled back at the man’s laughter. “So.... Mayor Thoms, what exactly is the current situation here?”
Mayor Thoms’ smile faded. “Pretty dire, to be honest with you. There is a large raiding force of ex-prisoners from the federal prison up the road that has made our life a living hell. They attacked at will for the first couple months after the grid came down: a real vicious lot. In response, we’ve had to fortify our position here. Since then, they’ve only attacked once but we were able to beat them back. That was a month ago and we haven’t had problems with them since. However, they still periodically send smaller squads to go through the town to scrounge for food and supplies. There isn’t much we can do to prevent them from looting outside these walls, so the rest of the townspeople have left.”
“Well, those looters will get a nice surprise the next time they return,” Bruce said with a smile.
Mayor Thoms grinned, “I suppose they will.”
“How many townspeople do you have left?” Bruce asked.
“We are full to the gills in there with just under four hundred souls. We ran out of beef and pork last month and things have gotten pretty desperate to say the least. We’ve got some crops growing out back, but we are going through them a lot faster than we predicted. We thought we had planted extra but we are barely able to supply one meal a day at this point and it will be another month at least before we can begin to harvest our second planting. There is no way we are all going to make it through this winter without help,” the mayor said expectantly.
“Well, I think I can help you out there. We have brought an extra company of men that will provide security and transportation to get your people out of here. They will be escorted to the Green Zone in Philadelphia where they will be billeted and provided with ration cards. The UN has been providing food shipments and the President has asked that all civilians make their way to the coastal cities where it is being delivered. It could be another year or two before there is infrastructure in place to get food to the internal cities and towns.”
“What do you mean...Green Zone?” the mayor asked curiously.
“In order to provide food, the military has secured multiple cities along both coasts where food shipments from the UN can be delivered and issued to the populace in a structured manner. The rest of the country is in chaos, as I’m sure you can imagine.”
“So it is the entire country then?” the mayor asked, concerned.
“Yes, Mayor. The entire country has been affected as well as parts of Canada and Mexico. We will have lots of time to discuss things in the days ahead but if you want your townspeople to survive the winter, we need to get them out of here and into a safe place with food and access to medical facilities.” Bruce was stretching the truth about the accommodations these people would find when they reached the Green Zone, but his orders had been clear. He would rather lie to the people than have to forcibly remove them. “The only civilians to be left behind are those with any experience repairing the electric grid and power plant, or those that were employed by the refinery. Everyone else must go...tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Mayor Thoms repeated, visibly shocked. “I need time to discuss this with the council and get an answer back to you. My people will need time to pack. What if some of them don’t want to go, for one reason or another?”
“That’s not an option, Mr. Thoms,” Bruce said sternly. “I have orders to secure this town and get to work on the refinery and electric grid. I can’t do that while I am babysitting four hundred people. And I don’t have the ability to maintain and supply food for that many people.” The mayor was starting to act less convinced now, so Bruce softened his approach. “Mayor, you have done the best you could with the hand you were dealt, and you deserve full credit for saving the lives of every person in that building. Trust me, just let the people know that they are going to a better, safer place and let the ones remaining know that we will take care of them and supply their needs through the winter. Oh, and I will need you to stay on and oversee the civilians that remain.”
The bright-eyed laughing mayor was gone, and in its place a defeated man. “Alright, but I still need to call the council together. I'll inform them of the situation and we'll make sure to get everyone packing right away.”
“Make sure they pack light. We have limited room on the buses, and no room for keepsakes. Please inform your people that they can only bring one suitcase per person. No exceptions, Mayor.”
The mayor nodded his head at the gravity of the situation and was turning away when Sammy stopped him. “Mayor, can you make any recommendations on where we can set up camp for the night? Somewhere nearby?” Sammy asked.
“Well, there were about fifty people staying over at the High School for a while. We just couldn't fit any more inside the walls and hope to keep everyone fed. They were overrun about a week ago. We never should have turned them away." He shook his head sadly, and for a moment, Bruce thought the mayor might cry. Mayor Thoms composed himself and continued, "It should be empty now.” He gave them directions to the high school.
"Do you know of any other survivors or people still living in town?" Bruce asked the mayor.
"There is a small pocket of survivalists that live just outside of town, next to the Seneca Pumping Station. They were the ones that gave us the seed to plant our crops. I guess I should say 'traded.' They drove a pretty hard bargain and we had to give up two cows and a half dozen chickens. But it was well worth it to get some crops growing. They are a secretive and suspicious group and have done a pretty good job of keeping their heads down. In fact, I'm pretty surprised the raiders haven't stumbled across them yet. Anyways, as far as in town, we haven't seen a living soul for a month or so."
"Really?" Bruce asked. "We met an elderly gentleman on the way here, living over by the refinery."
"No way!" Mayor Thom exclaimed, his eyes wide. Then his face softened. "Ol’ Crazy Joe is still alive. What do you make of that?" he said quietly to one of the men standing behind him.
"Crazy Joe?" Bruce asked gruffly, not liking the name they used for the old veteran.
"Yeah, Ol’ Crazy Joe was what you might call the town drunk back in the day. He's an old Vietnam vet who's not completely right upstairs, if you know what I mean." The mayor chuckled at himself briefly. Colonel Harris's stern look cut him off; the mayor picked up on the vibe and continued on more respectfully. "We haven't seen him or his wife around for a while now. They were the last ones left in town. The raiders had taken a liking to messin' around with him, teasing him, saluting him and the like. We just thought they had finally grown tired of their games and killed them...but apparently not."
Bruce didn't want to hear any more and didn't bother informing the mayor that Joe's wife was now dead. Town drunk or not, the man was still a war vet and should be afforded a little respect. "Okay, Mayor. I'll send Captain Spears back here in about an hour to fill you in on the details for tomorrow. Just have your people ready by 0900 to board the buses, alright?" The mayor nodded and headed back to the main gate, followed by his small entourage.
Once they were out of sight, Lieutenant Jenkins turned and congratulated Bruce on his deception. “Nice work, Colonel. You got the whole town to leave without firing a single shot. I didn't think that was going to be possible. I can just imagine the look on those people's faces when they actually see their 'billeting' and the 'medical facilities' in Philly's Green Zone." He laughed out loud. "You lie as good as any politician I've ever seen."
Instantly Bruce launched forward and stopped less than six inches from the lieutenant's face. He felt Sammy's hand gently squeeze his arm. "I am not proud of what I've just done and I sure as hell don't want congratulated for it!" Bruce hissed furiously. "I curse the lying politicians. They are the reason we're in this mess. If they had acted back in 2004 when the EMP Commission released their original report and made recommendations to harden the grid, we wouldn't be in this mess. Or at least it wouldn't have hit us so bad." He felt Sammy give a more persuasive tug on his arm. Lieutenant Jenkins just held his gaze with a confident smirk, not flinching or backing away. The thought crossed Bruce's mind that the lieutenant might be testing him.
"C'mon," Sammy interjected softly, trying to defuse the standoff. "Their guards are watching us."
Bruce shrugged Sammy's hand off his sleeve and stood nose to nose challengingly with Lieutenant Jenkins a few more seconds before turning back to the MRAP. "Mount Up!" Colonel Harris bellowed to no one in particular. As soon as the vehicles were moving again, this time headed toward the high school, Bruce heard the lieutenant speak up from the back seat—“Hey, Colonel!”
Won't this guy just shut up? Bruce thought to himself.
Yelling over the MRAP's engine noise, Lieutenant Jenkins continued, "We should probably check out those survivalists tonight, don't you think? I'm sure we don't want some crazy militia living next door to such a vital piece of this town's infrastructure."
Colonel Harris wanted so badly to just tell the lieutenant to shut up, be he did have a point. "No one ever said that they were a militia!" he snapped, correcting the LT. He turned around in his seat and focused his attention on Sammy to try and make the point that he was excluding Lieutenant Jenkins from the conversation. "At the same time, Major, we need to find out what they are all about. There are different kinds of survivalists and preppers. If they're just preppers, then I’m not too concerned, but if they turn out to be more like the militia types, we will need to get them to leave with the buses or relocate."
"Who do you want me to send?" Sammy asked.
"I'll go!" Lt Jenkins offered.
Sammy looked at Bruce inquisitively. "Screw it. Let Captain America here deal with it." Bruce nodded in the LT's direction while Sammy just shook his head. Colonel Harris was just looking forward to having a few private moments alone with his XO and commanding officers. Besides, maybe he would get lucky and one of those survivalists would put a bullet in the lieutenant's head and shut him up permanently. He started to second guess his decision in letting the LT handle a delicate situation like that, but eventually decided to put the lieutenant to a test of his own. He would have to send one of his best platoons along with him, though, to make sure he was kept out of trouble.