Wormwood (5 page)

“Hello, Rudy,” Mike Dawley said, sounding considerably more cordial than Larry.  “What’s up?”

“Actually, I’d intended to talk to Shane about the trip the two of you made to the supermarket.  I didn’t expect you’d still be there.”

“Yeah, well, Pam and I were just discussing that,” Mike replied, switching the phone from one ear to the other.  “We haven’t come to a definite decision yet, but I may end up staying here a while, at least until we figure out where this Wormwood thing is heading.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Mike,” Rudy said, genuinely pleased after his part in ruining the Hanna’s evening.  “I hope it all works out for the best.”

“We’re taking it one day at a time.  I think that’s about the best we can hope for right now.  Oh, and incidentally, Pam says she’d like to be a part of any future meetings or plannings, if that’s all right with you?  Apparently they’re gearing up for this down at the hospital and some of the directives and contingencies that are coming down the pipeline are pretty damn
frightening
, to say the least.  She thinks you’re dead-on about this; it’s gonna get
ugly
.  When I told her you’d sent us down to the store for canned food and bottled water, she wondered if you’d given any thought to medical supplies?”

“I had, but only so far as over-the-counter items.  Bandages, splints, disinfectants and such.  Ideally, we could use some strong painkillers and antibiotics.”  Rudy mused on this for a brief moment.  “Perhaps we could ask everyone to empty out their medicine cabinets?”

“That’s an idea,” Mike agreed.  “I’ll run it past Pam a little later.”

Rudy nodded.  “I’m glad she’s interested and willing to participate.  Her experience as an emergency room nurse will be a tremendous asset.”

“I’ll be sure to tell her you said so.”

Rudy marveled at how the Dawleys were coming together to cope with this crisis, while to the opposite side of him the Hannas seemed to be falling apart.  He wondered what effect his meeting was having amongst the other houses in the neighborhood: the Sturlings, the Navaros and the Iversons.  He was getting an early taste of how people responded to stress and adversity, and so far all they’d done was discuss it for a few hours over soft drinks and lemonade.  What would happen, he wondered, when they had to start boarding up windows and shooting guns?

“So,” he went on, keeping the conversation focused on preparations, “how did you and Shane do at the supermarket?”

“Not too bad,” Mike replied, though Rudy thought he detected some hesitancy there.  “The bottled water was running low.  We got fourteen cases but I had to go to three different stores.  I think we ought to start filling up jugs or whatever we’ve got from the house taps.  A lot of people were loading up on the same stuff we were buying.  At Safeway a fist-fight broke out over the last tank of propane, but otherwise people were fairly calm and orderly.  They waited in line to pay just like usual, but you could definitely feel a tension in the air, like they were standing guard over their shopping carts and were willing to beat the hell out of anyone who tried to take anything from them.  I was awful glad to get away with my head in one piece.  The last stop I gave Shane my 9 millimeter and had him wait in the Cherokee to keep people from breaking in and stealing the stuff we’d already bought!  I told him to fire a warning shot if anyone got too interested.”  He took a breath.  “I tell you there were a lot of empty spaces on the shelves, especially in the dry and canned good aisles; also the beverages, all varieties.  I think it’s going to get worse as the days go by; I just hope to God that they’re still receiving deliveries and restocking at night!”

“Hopefully,” Rudy agreed, but his voice held a grim note of skepticism.  Supplies from the west would still be rolling, but those from the east…

Well, they had their own problems back east.

“I plan on making another trip tomorrow morning,” Mike went on, “but if it gets any worse we might consider going in armed groups, just to protect one another.”

Rudy nodded, troubled at how quickly things were starting to fall apart, though he should have expected it; they were, after all, watching the same television coverage.  “I’ll mention that to Bud,” he said.  “I’d planned on calling him next.”

“There’s one other thing you ought to give some thought to,” Mike added, “and that’s a line to fall back along if things go to hell faster than we planned.  Instead of reinforcing
everyone’s
houses, we ought to pick one house on the block to hole up in and make a last stand, if it comes to that.  Make it a goddamn
fortress
.”

Rudy immediately thought of Larry and Jan’s house.  It was the only one he knew of that had an honest-to-God bomb shelter.  The people who’d lived there before the Hannas had installed it, convinced the Russians were going to nuke the country out of existence.  An older man and his wife; Rudy couldn’t quite recall their names, but they would have been about Bud and Helen’s age… had they survived the drunk driver who clobbered them out on the highway.

Life was sometimes funny that way.

Stubbornly refusing to go along with people’s plans.

12

Bud Iverson’s line was busy the first time Rudy tried to get in touch with him, so rather than sit idly at his desk, he turned on his computer and began checking the news sites for any updates they might be carrying on the epidemic.

His eyes scanned the headlines, unable to believe what he was reading.

NUCLEAR WARHEAD TRIGGERED OVER CHICAGO

(Associated Press)  A 20 kiloton nuclear device was detonated approximately five thousand feet above downtown Chicago today at 4:12 pm Central Standard Time (local), in what officials are terming a “last, desperate attempt” to halt the spread of the violent and disturbing phenomenon known as Yellowseed or Wormwood.  According to a spokesman for the Department of Defense and the White House, the order to “neutralize” the city was signed by President Watkins after a lengthy closed-door session with his entire cabinet.  This decision came following a “frank and heated discussion after viewing literally
hours
of aerial surveillance footage taken at various points over the city since dawn,” footage described by one cabinet member as “gruesomely shocking”.  Another member is quoted as stating: “If my family were trapped down in that Hell, I’d have signed the order myself.”

Reconnaissance satellites have yet to ascertain the extent of the damage or the effectiveness of the tactic, but a formal address to the nation is planned in the coming hours by President Watkins, once the full impact of the situation has been thoroughly assessed.  In the meantime, citizens are urged to remain in their homes, bolt their doors, and arm themselves against forced intruders.  Martial law remains in effect for the following cities: New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Washington, Buffalo, Pittsburgh, Cleveland, Detroit, Columbus, Cincinnati and Milwaukee.

*                         *                         *

Rudy shook his head, certain he was dreaming, tossing and turning in his bed.  He glanced back over the past few hours, starting at the bottom of the headlines and reading his way up to the destruction of Chicago.

CASES OF CANNABALISM LINKED TO DOWNED YELLOWSEED SATELLITE

WAVE OF MASS MURDER ENGULFS NORTHEASTERN CITIES

CONFIRMED REPORTS OF RECENT AND UNBURIED DEAD RETURNING TO LIFE

After two days of unconfirmed rumor and speculation, the story had finally broken open.

13

“My God,” Rudy said to Bud Iverson, his grip tight on the receiver.  “Have you heard about Chicago?  I can’t believe they actually dropped a nuclear bomb on an American city!  My
God
!” he said again.

“I saw it on television not twenty minutes ago,” Bud sighed.  His voice stunned, defeated, as if all the wind had been knocked out of him.  “This changes everything, you know?  Things are going to start falling apart very quickly now, whether Wormwood ever makes it here or not.”

Rudy supposed that was true, though it was shocking to hear it from Bud.

“There aren’t going to be any more peaceful trips into town to pick up supplies,” he continued over an angry sputter of static.  “From now on it’s going to be dog eat dog out there for the last scraps on the shelves and then the situation’s going to go from bad to worse.”

“How so?” Rudy asked, not certain he wanted to know the cold specifics.

“Well what do you think’s going to happen when we can no longer run down to Safeway or 7-Eleven for a loaf of bread or a gallon of milk because the lines of production and distribution are no longer moving?  We’re going to start
starving
, that’s what’s going to happen; and again, this is regardless of whether Wormwood comes to town or not.  The panic alone will trigger it.”  Bud paused as another crackle passed down the line.  “I think we were damned lucky to have gotten the supplies we did today.”

Rudy shook his head.  “They won’t last long,” he said numbly.  “Not if what you say is true.”

“Bank on it.  I read somewhere that the average supermarket carries roughly three days worth of stock at any given time,” Bud mused, his voice strangely faraway.  “Of course that’s assuming an average rate of consumption… not apocalyptic panic.  I’d say that you’d be pretty hard-pressed to find anything on the shelves worth stealing come this time tomorrow.”

Rudy gave the point serious consideration.

“Maybe we should send a party down to the corner 7-Eleven right now,” he suggested, “while there’s still something to get?”

“That’s an idea,” Bud allowed, his voice breaking up and coming back together.  “Can’t say if it’s a good one or not.  After Chicago, all bets are off.”

“Perhaps a quick trip, while people are still in shock…” Rudy thought aloud.  “Just three men and all we can fit into one vehicle.”

“Sounds a bit cold and mercenary when you say it like that,” Bud commented, “but I guess that’s what it’s going to take to survive in this brave new world of ours.  Who did you have in mind?”

“Myself,” Rudy immediately proposed, “Mike Dawley and that four-wheel drive of his
¼
and that’s about as far as I’d gotten.”

“What about
me
?” Bud volunteered.  It sounded more like a challenge than a suggestion.

Rudy hesitated.  “No offense, Bud, but I can’t see you running in and out of the store with a full case of canned food in your arms.  I think that perhaps someone younger…”

“All right, all right!” Bud relented.  “Point taken.  Can’t say it does much for my pride, but I suppose that’s the way it is.  I’d just be baggage.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Rudy said.

“No, but it’s the truth,” Bud exhaled, letting go of his wounded pride.  “If it’s a young man you want, then I’d suggest Keith Sturling.  He’s got a broad pair of shoulders, looks like he could plow a field with them; being in the Guards, he’s probably fairly handy with a rifle too.  Want me to call him?”

“Do you think he’d do it?”

Bud laughed.  “I think he’d knock both you and me down for the chance.”

Part Two:

A Trip To 7-Eleven

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