Protocol One Read online

  As I sat in the driver’s seat, I watched Tony. He leaned forward, head down and buried beneath his hands.

  “Should I go? Should I drive? What?” I asked. “Someone tell me.”

  “Go,” Skyler answered. “Get out of this traffic and find a place to pull over.”

  I nodded and put the van in gear and inched forward. For some reason a break occurred and traffic picked up the pace.

  It was something I shouldn’t have done, but I did. I looked at the side view mirror as I drove. The man’s body was still in the middle of the road.

  Some rode around him, some just rolled over him. No one stopped. No one cared.

  Was this what we had become? In such a short span of time, humanity was losing before the extinction event even occurred.

  17 – Choices

  Richmond, Indiana

  “You need to pull over,” Craig shouted from the back.

  “I’m trying,” I replied. “There’s nowhere to pull over.”

  “Find a place to stop and do it.”

  I was trying; we were on open highway with nothing but fields ahead of us. I thought about just pulling over on the highway then I spotted an exit sign. “Exit ahead.”

  “Go there. Find a place to stop. A safe place.”

  I picked up speed, driving faster than I had ever driven.

  “I lost him.”

  Silence.

  Tony groaned, it was a painful and emotional sound and he cradled his head even more.

  My heart beat wildly in my chest.

  “Come on, little one. Come back.” Craig beckoned, emotionally against the whimpers and sobs of those in the van. “Don’t you let go. Please, please, please.”

  Finally, I spotted it. Down the road from the exit was an abandoned service station and I pulled in. The entire time, I was praying in my mind for the child not to die. I didn’t know anything about the baby. Just that he was hurt.

  As I brought the van to a stop, Craig announced, “He’s back. He’s back.” And he laughed in a grateful way.

  Everyone reacted that way. Accept Tony.

  He flung open the van door and jumped out.

  “I need air,” Craig said. “Melissa, grab me that water. Sky, can you help me clear this area? I need to start an IV. Dad, I need something sturdy and flat. A board. See what you can find.”

  To me, everyone needed to stop, to take a break, to get that air. It was a traumatic experience.

  I worried about what it did to the kids. Joie especially.

  She saw a man shot, and then a dying infant. But I honestly think the most traumatizing for her was thinking her father was dead.

  Tony.

  I looked out the windshield to see Tony moving at a quick pace into the field that sat next to the service station.

  Letting everyone know that I would be back and worried about him, I followed.

  “Tony.” I called.

  He stopped, never turning around, and then Tony just dropped to his knees in emotional defeat. I raced to him, but the second I drew close, he held up his hand to keep me back.

  “Tony, look …”

  “I need to be alone,” He said, never looking at me. “Please.”

  “Ok, but if you need me …”

  His hand only rose.

  I stepped back. I couldn’t possibly imagine what he was dealing with. The inner turmoil was evident all over his face and through his reactions. What he was feeling had to be horrible. I felt helpless; there was nothing I could do for any party in the situation. Not Tony or the baby.

  All I could do was to do as requested. In regards to Tony, his request was to let him alone.

  I granted him that, and walked back to the van.

  <><><><>

  An hour after we pulled over I heard the baby cry for the first time. It was a soft, irritated whimper that was music to my ears.

  I made up some plates of food using rations and left over MRE’s and I passed them out to everyone.

  “What’s wrong with my dad?” Joie asked. “Is he sick?”

  She sat on Nelly’s lap. I handed her food.

  Nelly answered. “Yeah, he is. He got something called car sickness. Happens sometimes. He’ll be fine.”

  “He’s not mad at me, is he?’

  “Why would you say that?” Nelly cradled her. “Of course, not. Do you want to bother with anyone when your tummy is yucky?”

  Joie shook her head.

  “Eat.” Nelly instructed.

  They seemed fine so I let them be. I grabbed more food and headed over to Jackson. He sat with Skyler.

  “You guys okay?” I asked.

  Skyler nodded.

  “What about him?” Jackson asked, used his head to indicate Tony.

  I looked behind me. It was getting dark and Tony was still sitting in the field. “I don’t know.”

  “It’s tough,” Skyler said. “It’s a tough situation. Even in the line of duty it isn’t easy. He’ll be okay. Let him deal.”

  With my final run for food, I walked over to the van. Melissa and Duke backed away as I approached. Craig sat on the edge of the back.

  I shivered when I saw the baby. He looked so small and helpless. An IV ran into his arm. His other arm was bandaged and he was secured to a board.

  “How is he or she?” I asked.

  “He.” Craig replied. “Stable. He lost a lot of blood. Thankfully, the bullet only cut through the arm. I stopped the bleeding. But whether we can save the arm in the long run remains to be seen. The shock of blood loss was what caused it to be touch and go. But, he did sustain injuries in the fall. Hopefully, nothing internal. I’m not seeing signs of that. More collar and head trauma. He’s responding. That’s good.”

  I exhaled loudly. “That is good. How old is he?”

  “Maybe six months.”

  “Will he make it?” I asked.

  “I think so,” Craig replied. “I hope so. What’s best right now is to keep the fluids pumping. I also need to keep him immobilized for a while and let the antibiotics finish. Meaning, what’s best for him right now is not to move.”

  “For how long?”

  “Three more hours. I know it’s ten hours until …”

  I held up his hand. “We will wait until you say it’s good to go. Do what you need to do.” I glanced down at the child. “We all have to do what we can to preserve our future and that child is the future.”

  Darkness had fully set upon us by the time we were getting ready to leave. I tossed aside any optimism I had about having a free and clear remaining route. It wasn’t going to happen. Sure, it was possible, but with the state of things, chances were we were racing against a clock that was going to beat us anyway.

  The entire journey to that point had been maddening and rushed. We were already too late, in my opinion, to beat the comet. Yes, it was still possible, but I wanted to focus on not just getting there, but getting there in one piece.

  I was familiar with the phases of the post impact. I knew how much time we really had before things would get impossible.

  Duke lit a fire to give us some light and then rearranged the bags and cargo in the van for room. Tony returned from the field and sat off to the side, alone. No one talked to him, not because he was ostracized, but more so because no one knew what to say.

  Skyler insisted that he would speak when he was ready.

  My patience was almost at an end. After I told the others to get the van ready to go, I walked over to Tony with a cup.

  “I can use a drink,” I said. “But since I’m driving, I need you to have one for me. Drink up. We’re leaving.”

  Tony lifted his dark eyes to me. The usually ‘all together, cool calm and sarcastic’ Tony was a mess. I felt it when I looked at him. He took the cup, took a swig, then looked down to it. “What did I do, Anna?”

  “What did you do? How can you ask that?”

  “I shot a baby.”

  “No, Tony, you shot the father. You had no idea about the child.
And if that man cared about that, he would have used the child to get into the van instead of a weapon.”

  “Does it make it right?”

  “What is right or wrong now? We watched things fall apart in two days. That man threatened you, me, your daughter. By even aiming that gun at you, he threatened to take from your child. And I have no doubt he would have fired.” I reached down and inched that cup over for him to drink more. “I’m still trying to figure out how you got out of that one.”

  “Instinct.”

  “Well, thank you for that instinct. Now my instinct is kicking in. I gave you the time. Now you need to get past this.”

  Tony finished his drink but his head lowered once more. “I feel so guilty.”

  “Yeah, well, let me tell you something about guilt that I once heard. Something someone told me recently.”

  Tony looked at me.

  “Now is not the time for guilt. Now is the time to focus on surviving. You leave guilt behind you and keep going. Your child is what is important. You did what you did for your child.”

  Tony cracked a partial smile. “Those are pretty cool words.”

  “Yeah, well some pretty cool guy said them to me.” I winked.

  “The baby …”

  “The baby is going to be fine.”

  “For sure?”

  “Yes. Craig thinks so. The bullet cut through the arm. That’s fixed. He’s stable. He took a tumble when the father did, but he’ll get well. I feel it. Children are resilient. What about you?” I held out my hand.

  Tony grabbed it and stood. “I’m pretty resilient, too.”

  “Good. Because …I need you, Tony. I really need you.”

  He breathed out a long exhale through his nose and nodded. He stepped closer, placed his hand to the back of my head and whispered, “Thank you.” Pulling me closer, he lowered his lips to my forehead and kept them there for a few seconds, then stepped back. “Thank you.”

  “We ready?”

  “We’re ready.” He placed his hand on my back.

  “Let’s do this.”

  Everyone was loading into the van as we walked over.

  “Do you have the keys?” Tony asked.

  “I’m driving.” I replied as I walked to the driver’s side. “You’ve been drinking.”

  There was an exchange of looks in that moment. Glances between us that conveyed, ‘All will work out’.

  I got in the van.

  We had to head out.

  One more stop.

  The clock was ticking and it was ticking fast.

  18 – SAying Goodbye

  August 1

  Outside Akron

  Something happened on the six hour route from Indianapolis to Akron. As the wee early hours of the morning crept up, we saw fewer cars and then only an occasional car. By four in the morning we didn’t see a single vehicle. Except for the lone police car that pulled us over.

  There wasn’t a curfew, not in Ohio. At first I got the ridiculous fear that they were looking for Tony because he shot that man and we had the baby. But that fear quickly passed.

  I was still driving and was prepared to beg the officer not to make us stop. But he was polite.

  “Folks, you really need to get off the road and find a place to dig in. Impact is in two hours.” He was an older man who looked as if he were pushing retirement age.

  “Thank you, Officer. We are. We’re actually in route to a good shelter.”

  “Good. Good to hear. Be safe.” He tapped his hand on the edge of the window and turned.

  “What about you?” I called out to him.

  He stopped.

  “Why are you still on the road two hours before impact?”

  He turned back around and faced me, giving me a gentle smile. “Making sure folks like you get to safety, then I think … I think I’ll sit this one out.” He looked up to the sky. “Nothing to stick around for, so I’ll just watch it happen.”

  “It’s not gonna happen that way,” I told him.

  “Anna …” Tony called my name. “We need to go.”

  I waved my hand in a hushing manner, and focused on the police officer. There was a sense of sadness coming from him that I couldn’t ignore. I spoke gently to him. “It won’t. We’re too far away for it to be instantaneous. If the sky is clear we may see it fly over but it’s gonna be slow and ugly if you’re waiting for the end to come. Then, by that point, you may decide to live and it may be too late.”

  “Jesus Christ, Anna.” Tony said. “Why would you say that?”

  I kept my eyes on the officer. “With so many people fighting and wanting to stay alive, it makes me sad to hear someone who wants to 'sit it out'. If you don’t have anything ready or anywhere to go, you are welcome to follow us.”

  “Thank you for that.”

  “You’re welcome. Good luck, Officer.”

  He tipped his hat with a nod. “Ma’am.”

  I put the van in gear and pulled ahead, we weren’t far from Fleishmann.

  “At least you didn’t invite him to jump in the van.” Tony commented.

  I wanted to tell Tony to stop, but I didn’t. I was glad to hear him make a comment, even one of his sarcastic ones. I knew things were still bothering him, but I needed strong Tony back.

  In the month before, I really thought I had gotten to know him. I knew he could kill an entire pizza himself and drink like a fish when he wanted to. He watched children’s television programs only to make fun of them. He bit his nails when he was anxious and tried to pretend no one saw him. He started GSS as a means for good soldiers and talented men and women to do what they did best and loved to do, all while making a good living.

  The face of GSS was actually the maintenance man who was initially hired to work the night shift, never graduated high school, but looked the part.

  I didn’t know if had been married, heck, I didn’t even know he had a child. I guess there was a lot about Tony I still had to learn. Perhaps if I did, I would have understood his reaction to the shooting better. But we had time. We were going to be hunkered down together for a while.

  Not even five miles down the road, I caught the flashing lights of the squad car.

  “Are we getting pulled over again?” Tony asked.

  I believed we were until I readied to turn the wheel. The blue and red lights stopped flashing and the car behind me flashed it's headlights, then kept up steadily. I smiled. It was that officer, and he had decided to follow us.

  Skyler leaned forward. “Hey, I know you were avoiding it, but can you turn on the radio? It’s winding down and I’d like to hear what they’re saying... if anything.”

  “Yeah, me too.” Jackson added. “I mean it’s the last we’ll hear for a while.”

  Hating to admit it, I agreed and turned on the radio. There was nothing, and Tony took over trying to find a station.

  Finally, he found something, and we caught the tail end of the DJ’s identity and station identification.

  “They’re using FEMA broadcasting. A secure line that broadcasts nationally,” Tony said.

  “And we’ll be here,” she said. “Until the final second. Then we’ll go below. We’ll be fine, we hope. But we are only as prepared as most of you. You know, over the last couple days, we’ve heard nothing but horror stories. People looting, fighting. That, in this DJ’s opinion, is not how I want our world remembered as we go out. That’s why I’ve been focusing on the positive for this final broadcast. Here’s some more from social media …”

  Social media? People were still going on line, still grasping for some semblance of a life that will be gone. In a hundred years people wouldn’t know what social media was. How our world used it fervently. Why? I wondered. Why were they logging on instead of preparing, waiting, praying? The as the DJ read entries, I realized why.

  @Cathyhoward said thank you to the man who stopped to fix our tire. God bless you. We made it here.

  And there were more … ‘At’ and then names. Or just names. M
essages rattled off.

  ‘Waiting for you, Bill. Waiting.’

  ‘To the woman who gave me water and food for my son. I will never forget you.’

  ‘Man in New Jersey, thank you for getting me to my sister’s house. I am safe because of you.’

  “We have a caller on the line, go ahead.”

  “Hey, my name is Amber in Wisconsin.” The young woman’s voice quivered with emotions. “I just wanted to send this out to my mom. I can’t reach her. I tried. Mommy, I pray you’re okay. I’m thinking about you. I’m safe. I am safe.”

  Next caller.

  “Honey … I’m not gonna make it home. I’m sorry. If you hear this, I tried to call, line was dead. I love you. Tell the kids I love them.”

  Another male caller. “Hey, I just wanted to say to those out there who are helping people like me. Inviting us into your shelter when we have nowhere else to go. Thank you. It’s people like you that are gonna make this world a better place when we rise from the ashes.”

  Tony reached over and gave my hand a gentle squeeze. When I glanced at him, he was looking behind him to everyone in the van.

  We sat quietly listening to the broadcast as we drove into Akron. I was glad we turned on that radio, truly glad. It was sobering. We had seen so much ugliness and violence in a short span of time, people panicking, and scared and running and fighting for their lives. Now I was hearing some of the good that had occurred. The stuff the bad had overshadowed. It wasn’t hidden for long and it emerged at the best possible time. Laced with a lot of sadness, the positives of humanity were surfacing as the world said its final goodbye.

  19 – Switches

  Peter Fleishmann looked nothing like the photo of him in the World Inquisitor. I expected an older man, since the photo was so old. But instead, he was a man in his forties with wiry dark hair¸ and he was extremely thin.

  He was sitting outside of his house on a black box. Behind him were two orange gas cans and a small suitcase. He finished off a can of energy drink and stood as we came to a halt.