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THIRTY-FIVE MILES EAST OF ANCHORAGE, ALASKA:
So far, so good, Bull thinks as he leads his convoy east on State Route One toward Valdez. He expected trouble from the locals as he passed through Anchorage, but his only obstacle was a group of men, women, and children, blocking the road. The men were armed, and when Bull stopped, they demanded one of the trucks and an SUV.
Bull grins to himself as he remembers their expressions when he smiled at them and waved his hand out the window. Eighteen shotguns, rifles, and pistols suddenly appeared from inside the trucks and SUVs, and the crowd parted to let them through. Christa still hasn’t arrived in Valdez, and an ominous feeling creeps over him as he keeps his convoy moving east.
The cellphone next to him on the seat rings, and Bull answers it. “Yeah?”
“Martin Donner here, Mr. Peterson. What can I do for you?”
“I haven’t been able to reach Alex or Christa. Have you heard from them?”
“No, I haven’t. They should have arrived by now.”
“I know. My foreman in Valdez says they aren’t there yet.”
“I thought that’s where you are.”
“I’ll be there later. If you hear anything, call me. Day or night. I’ll do the same.”
Martin agrees, and Bull hangs up. “Shit!” he mumbles as his sense of dread deepens.
***
WASHINGTON D.C.THE WHITE HOUSE.
Martin enters the President’s office and sits in front of the desk. “The tanker left Cook Inlet, sir, but they haven’t been heard from for a while.”
The President studies Martin for a moment. He can tell the man still hasn’t gotten any sleep, but knows it would be a wasted effort to push the issue. “Have you had any luck tracking down Menno Simons?”
Martin shakes his head no. “Out west, it’s hard to do anything without fuel. Some of our people have been attacked by civilians.”
The President nods somberly. “I received a call from Russian President Matvelick this morning. One of their oil storage facilities was infiltrated somehow, and they lost all the reserves for that area.”
The President looks out the window at the dozens of soldiers stationed around the Capital. He sees the command tents set up next to the building, and the tanks and assault vehicles stationed along the perimeter. He watched the rioting in the western cities on the news broadcasts, helpless to stop it. The civilized world is going to hell. He turns back to Martin. “Any word from Alex and the Avery woman?”
“No, Sir. The air station at Whidbey said no one arrived. I’ve tried raising Alex on his cellphone, but he doesn’t answer.”
“If you want to go, you can use my helicopter.”
Martin shrugs. “Where would I go? This is where I belong.”
“I appreciate the help, Martin.”
“We’ll get through this, sir. I know we will.”
The President smiles. “I’m glad to see somebody is still optimistic. I hope you’re right.”