Pedestals of Ash (26 page)

After carefully picking his route, Bishop slowly made his way down the hillside, moving from cover to c
over, approaching
the civilization below. The first thing he noticed was the smell. Rotting garbage, human waste and dead flesh hovered over the valley like a cloud. The foul air was so unpleasant, Bishop considered changing his plan. He took cover in a concrete drainage ditch and removed his pack. Digging around inside, he pulled out the pine needles used for tea, and ground up a pinch under his rifle butt. He took the oil and rubbed it on the skin under his nose, hoping the smell of pine would ov
erride the horrific odors assault
ing his senses and distracting him
from his initiative
.

When everything was repacked, Bishop moved out and approached the back fence of the closest house
. He had picked this specific structure
because it didn’t have much of a trash heap
,
and appeared to have already been looted. There were miscellanies spread all over the yard
,
and the front door appeared to be open. As he carefully peered over
the fence, he noticed the back
yard showed no signs of either looters or life. Like many homes in this part of the world, the yard was mainly sand and rock. Grass required expensive watering
,
and many homeowners had chosen to go ‘native’ with their landscaping. A small child’s plastic wading pool and a rusted metal swing set were the only indicators that the residence had ever been occupied.

Bishop waited for almost
20 minutes to see if anyone were
really home and just doing a good job of hiding in plain sight. After he was sure his approach had gone undetected, he pulled his fighting knife and picked up a
baseball-sized
rock. He used the crude tools to pry three boards loose from
the fence and entered the toddler’s playground
.

Relieved that no one shot at him or otherwise sounded any alarm, Bishop cautiously approached the back of the home. The door was ajar and lead to a laundry room where an undisturbed washer and dryer sat looking like they were ready for the next load. Bishop paused and decided to ann
ounce himself in case someone was
hiding with a shotgun inside. “Hello…hello inside…I mean you no harm. If anyone is home, just let me know
,
and I’ll leave. I don’t want any trouble.” After broadcasting his presence, he felt a little silly. If an elderly couple
were
hiding inside, they would be smart not to answer.
How would they know I wasn’t just trying to draw them out?

Bishop looked around the corner int
o the kitchen and relaxed. All the cabinet doors stood ajar,
and the non-editable contents
were
strewn all over the floor. Every
drawer was either hanging from the rails or had been removed, searched and flung across the room. The
side-by-side
refrigerator stood with both doors wide open. Someone had ransacked the kitchen
,
looking for food. Bishop had to walk carefully because the floor was littered with broken glass, silverware, papers and other content once neatly stored. He made it to the
fridge
and
absent-mindedly
, reached up and closed the doors. There, held in place with magnets, were two items that caught his attention. The first was a picture of a young couple. The man was dressed in an army uniform, sitting with his arm around a pretty young woman in h
er early 20s. On their
laps sat
two children, both under the age of ten.

The second item was a hand
written note. Bishop pulled it from under the cartoon character magnet and read the neat handwriting:

My Dearest James,

The children and I are leaving for my sister’s house in Prescott. The power has been out for seven days
,
and we haven’t had water for five. The grocery store had a riot and was burned out. People are going nuts Jimmy
,
and I’m scared. The kids and I hear guns being shot
,
and some sound
like they are
close by. There are strange men driving around the neighborhood
,
and Mr. Young’s house was broken into last night.

Little Jimmy only has enough insulin for a couple more days. There are no phones
, and it took all day just to drive to
three different drug stores. All of them were boarded up or looted. I tried the base
, and they wouldn’t
let me in without you. I took my ID and papers and tried to get in the base as a dependent. There were hundreds of people at the gate
,
and I got shoved to the ground. I lost my papers
Jimmy;
I think someone took them out of my hand. I begged them for some food and insulin, but the guards just ignored me. I’m so frightened and don’t know what else to do but leave. We tried to stay Jimmy…we tried really hard to wait for you to get back from overseas. A
lot of the neighbors are leaving,
too.

I’ll be at sis’s place
,
waiting on you. I love you so much
,
and the kids miss you. Please hurry
,
my love.

Love,

Linda  

Bishop looked up from the note and stared out the window for a little bit. He wondered how many million times this same story had been repeated all around the world. He knew what it was like to have to abandon a home. The sickening feeling t
hat went through his gut as Terri and he
drove away would
be something he would never forget.
To leave one’s life behind while knowing deep down inside that returning was unlikely was an indescribable sorrow.

His mind then drifted to the husband and what the reaction would be if James ever read the note. The country he was serving had abandoned his family. The people he had committed to protect had turned their backs on his wife and kids. Bishop grunted out loud and put his hand on the rifle slung across his chest.
I know what my reaction would be.

Bishop carefully placed the note back on the door in exactly the same place as he had found it. He looked around the kitchen again, this time in a new light. This had been a happy home
,
full of laughing children. He could imagine the smell of baking cookies and happy squeals when ice cream was being dipped into bowls. Bishop sighed and had to clear his mind of the melancholy trap it was falling into.
I’m sure she made it to her sister’s house
, he thought,
I hope Jimmy joined them there
.

The living room was trashed, but not as thoroughly. The looters had been digging for food. Bishop went into the master bedroom, avoiding even a glance inside of the children’s rooms. He was already in a foul mood and didn’t want to go there.

Jimmy was a little larger guy than Bishop, and that was a good thing. Pushing back a ting
e of guilt, he fingered through the soldier’s clothing,
hung neatly on one side of the closet. After a few minutes, he found what he was looking for and consoled himself.
What I’m doing may help everyone. I’m not taking these things for myself, but to help end this madness.

Bishop found a bundle of clothing as well as a suitcase with wheels and extending handle. He took his loot outside and poured just a little water on the ground, quickly stirring the soil into a muddy concoction. He dirtied the pants,
overcoat,
and suitcase as much as possible. He then gathered papers from the kitchen and even found a small stain of grease on the garage floor. Rubbing the clothing in the oily substance added to the affect.

The next step was to remove his chest rig and rifle. This part disturbed Bishop greatly. He was going to be without
easy access to
his primary weapon
,
and that was uncomfortable. Still, it had to be done. After packing his gear into the suitcase, he donned the now filthy clothing and looked in the mirror to see the results. The final touch was to bundle a spare shirt and several pieces of paper to the handle of the pull-along suitcase. He unlaced one of his boots and cut the fingers out of a pair of gardening gloves he found in the garage.

Anyone watching the house would have seen just another homeless vagabond walking across the front yard and onto the street. Even the
careful observer would notice
a hunched over man whose
ill-fitting
cloth
e
s hung on his frame. Streaked with dirt and grim
e
, the shuffling
gait
of the stranger projected an image of a
lost soul. The pull-along suit
case being
dragged along was torn and ripp
ed, with a hobo’s collection of newspaper and other items tied to the handle. The wa
ndering man wasn’t a threat. He kept his head
down
,
and
his eyes never looked out
more than a few steps ahead of him. Anyone approaching would have heard him humming an out of tune rendition of “When the Saints Come Marching In.” But, there was no need to approach the stranger. He clearly had nothing of value and seemed intent on just passing through.

Bishop came to th
e first intersection manned by a
rmy troopers after traveling three blocks. The soldiers were bored, sitting on the hood of their
Humvee
and laughing about something. Bishop kept his gaze downward and his pace slow, the weight of his pistol against his hip providing little comfort. If the soldiers noticed him, they made no comment. He relaxed somewhat after he had made it more than a block past the checkpoint without being challenged.

Bishop passed by two more intersections manned by army troops before he could see the front gate of Fort Bliss ahead. He limped off the main street and found shelter in an abandoned doughnut store. 

Corporal Peterson loo
ked at his watch again. T
wo more hours of guard duty
, and then he would
have an entire day off.
He remembered when having
leave
meant a trip to El Paso to chase girls, but that was no longer possible. Still, a day off was better than sitting at the front gate and watching nothing. He looked up at the avenue approaching his position and wondered how things really were out in the world. They were certainly bad enough here on the base
,
and with a VIP visiting, things had gotten worse. Scuttlebutt had it that the President of these United States was going to be at Bliss for quite a while
,
and that meant extra duty and more restrictions. Still, the fact that the
president
was traveling around the country had to mean something positive – didn’t it? Peterson was shocked when his CO posted the duty roster
,
and he had
the
day off. As far as he could tell, he was the only one, and that had resulted in some serious ribbing as well as several attempts to bribe a trade in shifts. No one ha
d anything worth a shit for bartering
, so he kept the free time.

The c
orporal looked down at the M249 SAW (Squad Automatic Weapon) resting on the sa
nd
bags in front of him.
Thank G
od the machine gun hadn’t been required for several weeks.
When the White House had been stormed, orders had been received for three of the 1
st
’s brigades to move out. He had heard two of them were headed to Phoenix and one to Tuscan – but that was just rumor. The 4
th
brigade wasn’t ready to move as it was in the middle of a seriously needed refit
,
and half of its vehicles were non-functional. That had ended up being lucky because those troopers had been needed right here at home.

Almost overnight, El Paso had turned into a nightmare rivaling those old post-Apocalypse movies. There had been dozens of stories describing atrocities and sub-human behavior. Who knew what was true and what was bullshit? What Peterson did know was that lots of
very
angry and
very
hungry people saw the soldiers from Bliss moving their families onto the base, and that seemed to set off a c
hain re
action. Those same increasingly
desperate folks
tried to enter the base
,
and it had taken hundreds of soldiers to stop them.