Caden sat under the canopy Maria had created to shade Adam. Somehow, in the three days they had been there she had acquired a variety of rope, string, a tarp and two wooden poles necessary to build it. They had both done well to get this far. I guess I’m a survivor. He pondered the thought for a moment and concluded that he was right. He had skills and he used them to find solutions that allowed him to live.
Maria had gone with Adam to the market area. He found it pleasant to lean against the car in the shade of the awning while reading a three-day-old edition of the “Montgomery Advertiser.” The day after the shooting, the radio briefly reported the capture of terrorists with a nuclear bomb in New York City, but the article in the paper gave a detailed account of the cooperation between the FBI and Homeland Security. At last a victory. But the delight he felt at the news was squelched when he read a nuclear bomb had exploded four days ago near the naval base in San Diego. Five cities, hit by nuclear bombs. All those people dead or dying. He shuddered and tried to put the horror from his mind and wondered why no action had been taken against North Korea. They had provided the uranium used in two of the bombs.
He flipped the page and was surprised to see an interview with Senator Cole of Montana. He’s alive? Skimming the article he learned the senator remained out west with his wife for the birth of the third child. Caden grinned. That is going to be one spoiled kid.
A glance at his watch reminded him of the appointment with the military police. Hopefully I can resume the drive home tomorrow morning. He looked about at the tightly-packed campsites. How will I get my car out of here? Out of the corner of his eye he saw Maria approach with Adam. Caden was about to put down the paper when Maria stopped and talked with Debbie Miller in the next campsite. The Millers were nice people and he hoped they would survive, but he wondered. Maria, on the other, was a survivor in her own way. Perhaps that is why I’m so attracted to her. He set down the paper as Maria strolled up to the car.
“Did you find any formula?”
“No,” she sat on the hood of the car, “but Debbie gave me a can of milk.”
“That’s nice,” he said still focused on the article. “What did people do before formula?”
She laughed.
Caden looked at Maria as a smile beamed from her face. He thought about what he had asked and his face flushed. “Okay, stupid question, but what do we do?”
She held up the can. “Give Adam some canned milk I guess. You can still buy the fresh stuff at the market, but….”
Caden was surprised. “Really, paper money will still get you things?”
“Yes, but it’s all really expensive.”
Caden stepped from under the canopy, folded the paper, and dropped it on the car seat. He reached into his pocket and grabbed one of the silver dollars he had taken from his apartment. Flipping it in the air he said, “Let’s go get Adam some fresh milk. Save the can for later.”
Looking at the coin Maria asked, “What’s that?”
“My dad would say it’s real money.”
As they walked toward the market she said, “I met someone from Washington state.”
“Oh?”
“He said his boss was Governor Monroe.”
His mouth dropped open. “Monroe?”
Maria nodded nonchalantly. “Do you know him?”
“We’ve met.” he smiled as his mind raced. “He’s governor of Washington state—and the leading candidate for president.”
“Really?” Her eyebrows rose. “The guy, David Weston, said that the governor wanted to get to Olympia as soon as possible. Isn’t Seattle the capital of Washington?”
Lost in his own thoughts, Caden hardly heard what she said. He had worked as an aide to a senator and had military experience. Monroe might be in need of a man with his talents. He looked across the vast refugee camp. He would have to find David Weston—today. He’s my ticket to a new job and a trip home.
Chapter Six
The barrack’s door protested with a loud squeak as Caden yanked it open and hurried out of the cold rain. Movement caught his eye when he was halfway across the lobby. Turning his head he saw a man, seated alone in the corner, staring down at a sheet of paper. The man wiped away tears. Beside him on the floor were the tatters of a quickly opened envelope.
Bad news. So much pain and suffering these days.
As the man raised his head from the letter, Caden recognized him. Turner! Remembering their discussion days ago about family, Caden’s gut twisted into a knot. Turner had been hoping for a letter and now he had it, but this must be news his friend did not want to hear. Immediately his mind jumped to the worst possible scenario—his friend’s family had not survived the Washington blast.
He paused, unsure of what to say. “I was coming to see you, ah…” Caden looked at the door, “Should I go?”
“No.” He wiped the tears from his cheeks, stood with eyes fixed on the letter.
Caden glanced at the door once again. He wanted to go, but felt he should stay. “Is there anything I can do?”
“It’s okay, really.”
Caden was certain Turner’s wife and children were dead. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t understand.” A smile spread across his face. “My family, they’re alive.”
Caden shouted with joy and grabbed his friend in a bear hug. They stumbled backward as tears ran down the cheeks of both.
After several minutes of smiles, laughter and talk, the two men made their way up the stairs toward Turner’s barracks room.
“You actually got a letter?” Caden rubbed his chin. “The more I think about the post office still functioning the stranger it sounds.”
Turner grinned as he unlocked the door of his room. “Neither rain, nor snow, nor nuclear bombs.” He chuckled at his own joke. “Susie, my wife, sent it the day after the attack on Washington. It must have followed my unit as we moved.”
“Have you talked to your family?” He stepped into the small room, and looked for a phone, but did not see one. He pulled his cell phone from a pocket. “Use this.”
Turner gestured toward a chair. “It won’t work.”
Caden shot him a quizzical look as he sat down.
“Have you been able to call your family?”
“No, but you might be….”
Turner shook his head. “President Durant issued an executive order placing phone and Internet system under military control. Long distance communication is limited to government business.”
“Why?”
“To keep them available for the good guys and keep any remaining terrorists from communicating.”
“Won’t they just send letters?”
Turner shrugged. “Maybe, but that’s slower and I suspect letters are being monitored also. Actually, a computer nerd in my squad said you could still use the Internet if you know the IP address for a site.”
Caden recalled how his father had the IP address for a prepper blog site taped to his laptop. But I don’t know any IP addresses so I guess the Internet and the phones are unavailable for now. He shook his head. The government controlling and probably monitoring the calls and letters of citizens—what is the country becoming? He pushed the thought out of his mind. “I came to offer you an assignment.” He glanced about the room. Folded clothes were scattered about.
“Oh?” Turner sat beside his duffle bag.
“I’m trying to get a flight back to Washington state for Governor Monroe….”