Through the Storm(43)
“How can the government just leave us like this?” a man asked.
“Sit down, Chuck,” someone yelled. “It’s not the government’s job to feed you.”
“They’re supposed to take care of us.” Chuck shook his head but sat. “That’s why we pay taxes.”
Several people groaned.
“What about the criminals we’re seeing?” another asked.
“Difficult times bring out bad people.” The deputy shrugged. “That’s always been true, but most of your local law enforcement remains on duty. We have several police cars and the Humvee running but, without electricity, the phones, computers, and radios are down.”
“What should we do?” someone asked.
“I recommend you establish a community watch program,” Deputy Campbell answered.
“I think that’s a good start.” Pastor Wayne nodded.
“This just won’t do!” Chuck shot to his feet again.
“Shut up,” another man shouted. “I want to hear what the deputy has to say before it gets too dark to see him.”
Drake glanced out a window. The sun stood just above the nearby trees. He estimated they had a few hours of daylight remaining.
“The government is supposed to protect us,” Chuck grumbled as he sat.
The meeting progressed, but Chuck stormed out before it ended. Everyone else stayed until the sun stood just above the horizon. Drake felt they left thinking the situation was dire but feeling hopeful.
Drake dashed home as the shadows of twilight deepened. He wished he had never heard Deputy Downer’s whispered comments to Pastor Wayne.
Day Six
Portland, Oregon, late Thursday into Friday, September 9th
Neal had visited Portland on more occasions than he could recall, but he knew this trip across the city would remain fixed in his mind forever.
The sun fell below most of the building before the before the convoy departed. The streets of Portland became dark manmade canyons.
Neal tensed as the vehicles raced into the darkness.
Occasionally, they would pass a group huddled around a fire. Other times people stood in the road, waving for the trucks to stop, but the convoy never did. The vehicles wove around abandoned cars and surprised pedestrians, often with Ginger barking or growling from the back seat. If something blocked the way, the lead truck, equipped with a plow, pushed it aside.
“Why don’t you clear the roads and make this trip faster?” Neal asked.
“We are.” Lieutenant Pool steered down a side street following the convoy. “But we change routes frequently.”
Stars dotted the sky as the convoy rolled onto the freeway. Pool glanced up. “I’ve lived in Portland for five years and never seen so many stars.”
Neal gazed into the darkness and pointed. “That’s Orion, the Big Dipper is there, and if you follow those two stars out you find the North Star.”
Pool raised an eyebrow. “Is astronomy a hobby or a profession?”
“A hobby. I’ve lived in the country most of my life and been a backyard astronomer since I was a boy.” However, as Neal continued to stare into the night, his only thought was thankfulness that no aurora weaved across the sky. Tonight no sun storms would inflict additional damage upon mankind.
In the early hours of Friday morning, the convoy left the freeway and proceeded along side streets to an area of hotels beside the Columbia River. The trucks continued down the road, but Lieutenant Pool steered the jeep into a parking lot and stopped. Before either man stepped out, soldiers poured from the nearest hotel and flowed around the jeep, like water around a boulder in a stream. “What’s going on?” Pool called to another lieutenant.
“Gunfire across the river in Washington state. We’re securing the bridge.”
Lieutenant Pool exited the jeep and waved for Neal to follow. Together they climbed to an observation post beside the bridge. There, Pool borrowed binoculars from one of the sentries.
The lieutenant leaned against a chest-high wall of sandbags and stared across the dark water.
Neal followed and stood beside him. “What do you see?”
“Muzzle flashes and small fires.” He set the binoculars on the sandbags and looked at Neal with worried eyes. “No one will be crossing this bridge for a while.”
Neal leaned onto his elbows. His home state was within sight, but he couldn’t get there. He thought of Conner and Drake, alone and afraid.
His wife, Beth, had been the hub around which the family revolved. When she died, they had bumped along, but only just. He had been there for his sons physically but not emotionally.
He had failed them when they needed him the most.
He had failed to protect Beth from the mugger and he had failed the boys.
He was a failure as a man.
*
Cle Elum, Washington, Friday, September 9th
Conner yawned and pulled open the back door to the church. The cool of night still embraced the air that flowed in through the door.
Madison stepped out but paused on the porch. “Should we say goodbye before we go?”
“I didn’t see anyone awake.” Conner looked back for a moment and then let go of the door.
“Wait,” a voice called from inside. The door clicked shut and then immediately opened. Father Dan breathed deeply as he stepped out. “I’ve got good news.” He waved Conner and Madison back in.