The Survivalist - 02 (4 page)

President Glass nearly fell out of her chair.

“Excuse me? If you just said that we won’t have power for a year, we all might as well say our prayers right now because they’ll hang us from the Statue of Liberty well before then.”

“Ma’am, there are more than five hundred power stations, including over one hundred nuclear power plants. Add to that the nearly two hundred thousand miles of transmission lines and countless thousands of distribution stations. To get an entire region online would be a huge undertaking, requiring many thousands of trained personnel. I’m sorry, but those people no longer exist. The truth is that a year is very optimistic.”

She took a deep breath, struggling to compose herself.

“Do what you can, Bill.”

He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

She turned back to General Carr.

“General, it seems that relief is many months away. How bad are things likely to get between now and then?”

Everyone turned their attention to him, as his answer affected them all equally.

“The situation is already grave. As it stands, we’ve already lost control of most of the continental United States. For all practical purposes, the vast majority of the country has become a lawless wasteland. In the absence of a strong military presence, history dictates that it will eventually devolve into tribal regions, governed by violent warlords.”

“Can’t we bring the full military in on this? Certainly, we’re not in any imminent danger from abroad. Everyone’s struggling to pick up the pieces.”

“That’s true,” he said. “Russia and China are in even worse shape than we are. However, even if we turn all eyes inward, we barely have enough military remaining to gain control of a few key bastions across the country. By and large, the states would no longer be united. It would, however, at least provide a way to save our democratic republic.”

Several people around the table began to mumble to one another.

“Okay, okay,” she said to everyone. “Let’s not allow despair to get in the way of doing everything we can to save our nation.” She turned back to the general. “If we had to consolidate people to these . . . bastions of civilization, where would you recommend that we start?”

“Several plans are already being drawn up, but they all revolve around recolonizing major cities a few at a time. The military would move in to clean them out and set up basic services. The end game would be to entice populations to return. It would be a very slow and arduous process, I assure you.”

“Nation building from the ground up.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And how long would it take to reestablish say, ten major metropolitan areas?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Years?”

“Yes, ma’am. It could be a decade or more.”

“And, in the meantime, what can be done about the violence?”

“Unfortunately, not much. We simply don’t have the manpower to contain all the factions out to do harm. When we grow in strength, assuming that we do, we can take control one mile at a time. Until then, the great people of this nation will have to sort out their own rule of law.”

CHAPTER

3

Having served more than four years in Talladega’s Federal Correctional Institution, Tanner Raines had learned to be a patient man. As a prisoner of the state, he had to wait to eat, to exercise, to receive mail, to do damn near everything. With that said, even a prisoner’s patience can be tested.

The president’s eleven-year-old daughter, Samantha Glass, sat behind the steering wheel of a four-door Jeep Wrangler. Tanner was on the seat beside her, making no attempt to hide his frustration.

“Are you planning on driving this thing or just warming the seat?”

She cut her eyes at him.

“I’m eleven.”

“You keep reminding me. So?”

“So, eleven-year-olds shouldn’t be driving. It’s illegal . . . and dangerous.”

He sighed. “We’ve been through this. You need to know how to drive. What if I get shot? Who’s going to take me to the hospital?”

“There aren’t any hospitals.”

“But if there were.”

“If there were, then I’d call an ambulance.”

He shook his head.

“You’re impossible.”

She took a deep breath.

“Fine. I’ll try. But when you fly through the windshield, don’t crawl back with an attitude.”

“I won’t,” he promised. “Now turn the key already, before I die of old age.” Without drawing attention to his action, Tanner pulled the seat belt across his lap. Samantha’s was already latched.

Samantha turned the key, and the engine came to life. She stomped the gas pedal, and the entire Jeep began to shake as if preparing for liftoff.

Tanner touched her shoulder and shouted over the roar of the engine.

“Easy on the gas, Mario!”

She eased her foot back on the pedal, and the engine quieted.

“That’s better,” he said. “Now press the brake, and put it in drive.”

She did as instructed.

“Ease off the brake.”

The Jeep started to roll slowly forward.

“That’s good. Now just keep it at this speed for a while.”

Samantha steered the Jeep across the large parking lot that Tanner had specifically selected for her training lesson. The closest car was easily fifty yards away. She drove across the lot a few times, making wide U-turns when she got to each end.

After a few minutes, she said, “This isn’t so hard.”

“I’m glad you think so. Now, take us out into the street.”

She shook her head.

“I’ll hit something.”

“So, what if you do? At this speed, we’ll be fine. And there’s no shortage of cars if this one gets damaged.”

She snorted, not buying into his logic. But she did as instructed, carefully steering the Jeep out of the parking lot and into the street.

As they exited the lot, a herd of small animals darted out from behind an overturned Greyhound bus. They were light brown in color, measured a few feet in height, and had long, ridged horns.

“Whoa!” she said, hitting the brakes.

They watched as more than a dozen of the animals dashed across the street with amazing speed, finally disappearing around a corner.

“What were those?” she asked. “Deer?”

He shrugged. “Gazelles, I think. They must have been released from the zoo.”

“Why would anyone just set them free?”

“It was that or let them starve,” he said, thinking of his own fortuitous rescue from a cage.

She nodded. “Well, I’m glad they let them go. They’re pretty.”

“Pretty good eating if that’s what you mean,” he said with a grin.

She frowned. “That’s not what I meant at all.”

“You say that now.”

“I’ll say that always. I would never want you to kill an innocent animal for us to eat.”

“Uh-huh,” he said with a knowing smile.

“Really, I mean it.”

“Fine. Now, no more excuses. Let’s get going already.”

She looked back at the road. There was no straight path through the congestion of abandoned cars, so she began to carefully maneuver through the maze of wreckage. She kept the Jeep running at idle, and the car never got above ten miles an hour.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I’m bound to hit something. I told you I’m clumsy.”

Tanner leaned his head against the window.

“I’m going to take a nap. Wake me when you crash or see a sign for I-85.”

“You’re crazy.”

Tanner closed his eyes, and before long, he was snoring softly.

Samantha glanced over at him, unsure if he was faking it. She certainly wouldn’t put it past him. Tanner had a weird sense of humor, and sometimes she had trouble telling when he was messing with her. The fact that he was putting his life in the hands of an eleven-year-old girl said a lot about his lack of common sense. She shook her head and turned her attention to the road. He really was crazy.

Tanner didn’t know how long he had slept, but it felt like he’d been lying in a grave. His neck hurt, and his mouth tasted like tuna fish. Samantha was pushing his shoulder, rocking him from side to side.

“Wake up.” She sounded worried.

He sat up and took a quick look around. A sporty little two-door sedan was directly in front of them, steam pouring out from under the hood. The windshield, hood, and doors were all peppered with bullet holes. The trunk was open, and a suitcase with clothes spilled out was sitting behind the car.

“Where are we?” he asked.

“Just outside Atlanta.”

“How long have you been driving?”

She looked at the clock on the car radio.

“Almost three hours. I’m tired.”

He yawned. “You hit anything?”

“No,” she answered, squinting at him while waiting for some retort.

He didn’t offer any. Instead, he opened his door and set one foot on the asphalt.

“I saw a car heading that way.” She pointed toward the tall buildings at the heart of Atlanta.

“Did anyone see you?”

“I don’t think so. They were going pretty fast.”

Tanner grabbed his Remington 870 Police Magnum shotgun and stepped from the Jeep. Before advancing, he took a long moment to study the area. Vehicles of all sorts littered the freeway, but none were moving, and he didn’t see anyone alive either. Like other highways they had traveled, this once frantic medium for people rushing to and from work had become a graveyard filled with technology and decomposing corpses.

“If you spot them coming back, honk the horn.”

She nodded, staring in the direction they had fled.

Tanner approached the bullet-ridden car from the passenger side. The door was ajar, but the seat was empty. The driver, a man in his thirties, lay slumped over, his chest riddled with bloody holes. A shiny gold police badge had been hastily pinned to his shirt, and an empty holster hung at his waist. Tanner noticed a distinctive white tan line on his left ring finger. He leaned down and put his hand on the man’s neck. There wasn’t a pulse, but the body was still warm. Whoever Samantha had seen racing away was likely responsible for his death.

Tanner slowly walked around the car, taking in the details of the scene. A woman’s tennis shoe lay on the asphalt. He picked it up and gave it a once over. It was a cute little canvas slip-on, something a young woman might wear when going out for a day hike. He set the shoe on top of the car and continued his survey. Inside the trunk was an assortment of clothing and empty food packages. Whoever had done this had taken not only the man’s wife but everything of value they could find.

He squatted down and examined a thin trail of fluid that led away from the car, like a fuse leading to a stick of dynamite. He rubbed it between his fingers and sniffed. Oil. The trail led in the direction that Samantha had pointed, right into the heart of Atlanta. He stood up and returned to the Jeep, his mind playing through how things had likely gone down.

Samantha looked at him expectantly.

“Well?”

“He’s dead.”

“I kind of figured that. It just happened, right?”

“It wasn’t long,” he mumbled, lost in thought.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“Not nothing.”

“There was a woman too.”

“Is she . . . dead?”

He shrugged. “Don’t know. They took her.”

She sat back against the seat.

“Should we go after her?”

He shook his head but said nothing.

They sat for nearly a minute without speaking.

Finally, she said, “What else?”

“How do you know there’s something else?”

“You haven’t told me to start the Jeep yet, so I figure there’s more.”

He sighed. “The man was a cop of some sort.”

“Like your son.”

“But not my son.”

“No.” She paused. “But it isn’t right what they did to these people.”

He looked at the tennis shoe lying on top of the car.

“No, it isn’t right.”

“We should do something about it.”

“They’re strangers, Sam. Not worth risking our lives over. We’re going to Virginia, to your mom, remember?”

She nodded. “Virginia will still be there.”

“You’re assuming that we won’t get ourselves killed.”

“Technically, even if we do get killed, Virginia will still be there.”

He sighed again. “I gave my word that I’d get you home safe.”

“You’re an escaped convict,” she said with a laugh. “How good could your word be anyway?”

He growled at her.

She grinned. “I’m just saying that I’ll understand if we don’t go straight there.” She touched his arm. “You’ll get me home eventually.”

“We shouldn’t get detoured like this.”

“No,” she said, “we shouldn’t.”

“But we’re going to, aren’t we?”

She nodded. “I think so.”

Tanner closed his eyes and saw the face of the dead police officer. He was right in what he had said. The man was not his son. But by God, he was someone’s son.

“All right,” he said. “We’ll go after her.”