Escaping Home Page 12

  Chapter 11

  Miracles from the Sky

  The curve ahead was leading them right into Kit Carson, Colorado.

  “Let’s just stay on this road, so far we haven’t had any problems. It looks clear so far up ahead.” Nate said into the CB radio. His father was scanning ahead and didn’t see anything.

  “Yep, looks clear. This turns back onto U.S.-287, we will be headed northwest then,” Nate replied.

  Nate kept two hands on the wheel and focused on all of the small cars on the road and some that were in the middle. They swerved slowly around a few of them, then Nate noticed one car with two men hiding behind the trunk of a larger sedan. One had a rifle but he wasn’t aimed yet.

  “Dad! That bright red car ahead…man with a rifle…plow through!” Nate yelled.

  All at once, Nate sped up while Ben crawled into the back seat, taking shelter as best he could. Nate drew his pistol out and aimed out the driver’s side window with his non-dominate hand. The difference was he often trained to fire with this hand and was glad he did. He didn’t expect to hit them, but instead give them a reason not to shoot.

  “See them!” Henry said, getting Betty down in the back of the cab. With the curve in the road, Henry had a good sight of the men taking aim at Nate. He pulled up his own long .308 rifle and laid it outside the window, propping it up on the mirror as the truck slowly came into alignment with the men ahead. Henry gave it his best professional guess, and fired one round at them.

  The impact of the bullet first slammed into the trunk and made an enormous sound, surprising the two men, then followed the sound of the gunshot. They didn’t expect to be shot at. Nate heard the shot and looked in the rearview mirror to see his father with his rifle laid up on the mirror outside the cab.

  Damn dad, Nate thought to himself. He wondered if his dad had hit either of the men, and knew that would have been a good shot even for his sniper father.

  One of the men dropped to the ground afraid to stand back up. The other tried to steady his rifle at the fast approaching trucks. He pulled the trigger on the AR clone, and fired one round that slammed into the right edge of the Tundra bumper. The bumper was harden steel brush guard that deflected the round. Nate heard the shot, and now that he was closer, he aimed his Kimber and fired the .45 down range using his best guess. The man holding the rifle saw Nate’s hand with the gun, but before he could get a clear shot, he felt something open his one exposed leg, and saw another bullet hit the pavement near him. He dropped to one leg as the burning intensified in his calf from the bullet that made itself a home. He was cussing as the Tundra came closer. His friend turned and ran away from the rear of the car. He had no weapons. The man tried to raise the AR again, but now felt the impact of the Tundra barely hitting the edge of the car, forcing it toward the man. He flew backwards trying to avoid being run over by an abandoned car, but he couldn’t move fast enough. In seconds, he was forced down as the car skidded over his body. He was still alive, but couldn’t move as the semi blew past him. The sound was deadening. A few more seconds passed before it was all over. The man under the car was not moving when the friend who ran away came back. He pulled and pulled until he was able to remove the man. Once out from under the car, the man standing checked his friend’s pulse. He was dead. He then removed the man’s new looking boots and took his watch. He left the man on the road and walked away.

  “Well, that wasn’t fun,” Henry said into the microphone. Betty climbed back into her seat.

  “Don’t think he will be trying that again,” Nate replied.

  “Ok Ben, you can sit up,” Nate said.

  The short trip through Kit Carson lasted only minutes, but felt like a lifetime when being shot at. Nate was thankful this wasn’t happening too often. Nate knew from looking at the map earlier in the day, that when he saw the sign for Hugo, he would be getting close to Interstate 70. The road he was on would meet up with I-70 in a small town called Limon. He planned to chance it on the interstate until they got to Highway 79, and then take that road north. If they stayed on I-70 they would end up in Denver. That was a certain death trap that they all needed to avoid. Henry had told Nate before they left, that one of the Ham operators outside of Denver was reporting that several street gangs that existed previously to the collapse had grown in numbers and were taking over most of the city. After the looting, burning, and killing, they ruled the roads in town. The police were the first ones targeted.

  During normal times, the gangs never had a chance with the advanced communication networks all departments currently employ. These were not normal times. With all their fuel stolen and radio towers brought down, they had limited ability to communicate. The total number of officers was close to 1,500, but many had perished the first month of the collapse from rioters and ambushes. What little police force remained had, for the most part, stayed in safer areas, giving up vast areas to the gangs who teamed up. It would take the National Guard to finally someday come in when things were better to clean them all out.

  With this in mind, Nate would take whatever routes he needed to take in order to avoid any large cities. The only way he would go through Denver would be in an M1 Abrams.

  It was getting later in the day, they had done a good number of miles so far, but Nate wanted to go north of Limon on I-70. He hoped somewhere along there they would be able to hunker down for the night. Nate knew of the small town of Limon. He remembered a devastating tornado that happened back in June of 1990. It killed a few people, and injured many others. The force of the tornado leveled most all businesses; they soon rebuilt everything, and were well- known for producing food and energy for people around the world.

  “We are coming up to Limon, Colorado soon,” Nate said into the CB.

  Ben was looking out the window. The scenery was slowly starting to change. In the distance, he could see more rolling hills.

  “It looks pretty here, dad,” Ben said. He had a serious look on his face. Ben hadn’t seen much so far other than the beautiful Rockies and the trip to Fritch. This was different looking in so many ways; beautiful in its own rights, with more greenery and rock formations starting to appear.

  “Just wait, Ben. Things will become prettier as we go further northwest. Wyoming is pretty nice,” Nate replied. They hadn’t done a lot of talking on the trip. Nate was so focused on driving, that it just wasn’t on his agenda. He was used to being alone and not talking. Ben seemed ok with that, but Nate felt that he wanted to talk.

  “Ben, can you tell me more about what you like? I mean…the things in life that interest you the most,” Nate asked.

  Ben squinted his eyes as if thinking really had.

  “Let me see, I really like girls,” he said with a big smile on his face. Nate turned his head and rolled his eyes.

  “Ok, I know that one. How about other things?” Nate replied.

  Ben smiled.

  “I like cooking with grandma. I like shooting guns with you and grandpa. I love science stuff. I like to read comics. It takes my mind off things that worry me,” Ben stated.

  “What stuff worries you, other than all of the things you know are going on?” Nate asked.

  Ben looked perplexed for a few seconds. He wasn’t certain how to answer the question because everything going on worried him. It would have an effect on his life, he thought, for a long time.

  “There isn’t anything but this stuff that I worry about, dad.” he finally replied.

  Nate felt a bit of regret forming in his gut now. He started the conversation, and now he knew he had to address Ben’s answer. Nate made assumptions in regards to Ben’s overall understanding of the current world events. Nate believed Ben to be unaware and just living day to day.

  “Ben, I’m sorry. I guess I didn’t realize how much you knew,” Nate said, trying to find the words to reassure Ben that everything would work out. How could he make such statements in the face of everything Ben already saw?

  “Dad, I may not say much, but I listen. My g
randma used to say I could hear like a Chihuahua. I guess they have big ears or something, but I have never seen one. I see your face and know when bad things are about to happen. That worries me,” Ben explained to the best of his ability.

  Nate was taken aback. He hadn’t spent much time since finding Ben really discussing anything like this.

  “Well, I must say Ben, I figured you all wrong. I am sorry for that. I won’t make that mistake again. I will tell you a few things. I’m glad you listen well, most people do not. Listening can save your life and the lives of those around you. I know we have both been through many dangerous times. I will always put your safety first and never ask you to do something that I don’t think you can do. There may come a day when you will have to save me. Sometimes that requires you to take actions you can’t imagine. For now though Ben, trust me and have faith that we will end up in a safer place,” Nate concluded. He hoped Ben would keep talking and revealing more of himself over time.

  Limon, Colorado was now but a distant image in their review mirrors. They drove through town without seeing more than a dozen people. Everyone was on foot and stayed to the sidewalks. There were fires burning everywhere and no moving vehicles. Not one person waved or even looked up as their small convoy quickly made it through the once thriving town. Limon was once a strong farming and ranching town with many newly constructed wind farms. They could see the wind turbines, but nothing was moving.

  “Ok, we will be getting on I-70 soon. Keep your eyes open,” Nate said to his father across the CB radio.

  There were very little cars for the first few miles. The ones they came across were like all the others…abandoned. It was starting to get dark as they made their way slowly up the interstate. Nate could not decide if he wanted to continue on the path north which, on the interstate, would take them right into Denver. He knew this would not be an option. The reports they heard of how the city had been taken control of by gangs would likely mean much trouble. He would have to take a different route either from the east or the west of Denver.

  Fuel was becoming a concern. However, another concern was nibbling at Nate’s mind. He was trying to understand why there was such a massive absence of people everywhere they went. Obviously there would be a lack of food and water. Lack of medical care would also be a driving factor across the nation. He could not begin to think about all the deaths from that alone, minus the first needs people would gravitate toward. He was thinking back to the people he saw in Fritch and the few along the way to his current location.

  One of the things Nate learned from being overseas in many third world countries was that disease often killed more people than the lack of food. For over a century, the United States had become immune to many of the comforts and facilities that made life a little more comfortable. The one luxury that being without could cause massive outbreaks and death, was the lack of sanitation. If people were not taking the proper precautions and needed steps to stay free of the disease, then this alone would reap untold devastation.

  Nate’s thoughts were interrupted by the sight ahead as he crested the hill. About a mile ahead was a jumbo jet that had crashed in the middle of the interstate. It looked like a 747 from what remained. There was no smoke and no indication of a recent crash. Nate was certain it was from months earlier.

  “Nate, Dear Lord” Betty said across the CB. Nate was surprised to hear his mother but knew she was in a state of shock.

  “Let me go up and check it out. I will leave Ben in the truck and walk up,” Nate said, stopping about half a mile from the enormous crash site.

  “Ben, if anything happens…drive this truck back to grandpa. I’m sure it will be fine, but that’s the plan.”

  Ben nodded, unable to take his eyes off the scene ahead. Nate retrieved his rifle and the handheld CB his dad had given him. He turned it on and dialed the channel in.

  “Ok, headed up,” Nate said.

  His father’s voice blared through the small speaker. “Ok, be careful son,” Henry replied.

  Nate didn’t expect anything, but mostly wanted to see if they could drive through the mess. He had seen a few plane crashes, but not one like this. Walking up, he could still smell the peculiar smell of jet fuel and burnt hair. Pieces of the plane were scattered over a great distance. Walking closer to the fuselage, Nate could see the underside of the massive plane turned on its side. Seats were everywhere; some burnt with what appeared to be people still strapped in, while others were empty; the belts dangling from the seats swaying in the winds that blew hard in the area.

  The earth was scorched for as far as Nate could see. It appeared, from the enormous rubber marks on the interstate, that the pilot attempted to land on the interstate. Something must have prevented the maneuver. Nate looked over to the main section of the plane that was still intact, and could now see about twenty bodies still in their seats burned beyond recognition. Nate swallowed hard at the sight. He stopped and dropped to his knees and said a prayer for everyone and their families that would likely never know what happened to their loved ones.

  On the ground by his knees he saw what looked like a piece of a brochure. It was from John F. Kennedy airport in New York. The plane may have been from New York, he wasn’t certain. The one thing he thought that might have happened was the plane may have been taken down by an EMP. Maybe it was on its way from New York headed west, and was high enough to have been hit. If this was the case this far west, then there would likely be more. Nate wasn’t sure about the timing of events though. The time of the economic collapse and the EMP attacks were close, but he didn’t know how many people were still flying after the collapse. Perhaps the only ones flying were the ones who could afford the inflation of the price at the time. The image of them all happy that they had escaped New York during a time of rioting and fires only to meet an end like this made Nate very sad. He stood up and kept walking up the interstate.

  The crash site went on for over a mile with luggage and more bodies in the road and in the prairie grass. He felt like they could drive through it, but it didn’t feel right to do so. It felt like they would be driving through a graveyard. Nate walked further and then caught site of the cockpit, or at least what was left of the cockpit. It was a definitely a 747. The skin of the cockpit was cracked wide open and laying on its side. The internal computers and seats could be seen exposed to the elements. There was no one inside; it appeared that their seats didn’t hold them in, and a few were missing. Nate had seen enough. He turned to head back when he heard something from his right. It was clearly someone walking through the debris. He turned and saw a man holding a rifle aimed right at him. The man was wearing a black leather jacket and a baseball cap with the Colorado Rockies emblem. Then Nate heard someone behind him. Nate held his hands up slowly depressing the send button on the CB as he did.

  “Please don’t shoot,” Nate said loudly, hoping the two men and his father would hear the request.

  “You just stand still my friend. We’ll take that rifle and pistol, and then we will decide what to do with you,” the man said with a smile.

  For once in his life Nate hadn’t felt his intuition give him a warning. The only possible reason was because of the disaster scene he stood in.

  Nate could tell the men meant business. The one behind him came up slowly placing the end of a weapon up against Nate’s skull.

  “You move and I will remove your head; you understand?” he asked Nate.

  Nate just replied with one word as he still held the button down on the radio, “Yes,” Nate replied. Then he decided to say a little more. Did you two survive the crash?” Nate asked.

  The man in front of Nate laughed.

  “No, we did not; the few that did, didn’t last long,” he said with a smile.

  Nate felt sick with anger. He knew that sort of laugh and the type he dealt with now.

  “So, let me guess…you two killed the survivors?” Nate asked as the man behind him slowly removed Nate’s rifle. They still had not tried to go
for the radio in his hands. Nate thought he knew why. Nate stood 6’5” and with boots on and arms raised high, he was clearly too tall for the man behind him to reach the radio. The man still holding the barrel to Nate’s neck could be heard now mumbling something to himself about Nate’s rifle.

  “Yes, that’s a really good one,” Nate commented.

  The man shoved the barrel closer and Nate could now see the man out of the corner of his eye. He was a small man, but older than Nate. He slowly came around into sight, and Nate wondered why they hadn’t taken his pistol yet. The man seemed intimidated by Nate, even with a gun pointed on him.

  “I got the rifle, you get that pistol,” the smaller man told the other.

  “Seriously? You were right there. I guess I have to do all the dirty work.”

  The man pulled the rifle up to aim at Nate’s chest, and was getting ready to shoot, when a high-pitched whistling noise and a splat sound could be heard. The man holding the rifle stumbled forward, rifle dropping slowly to the ground. The man managed to squeeze off one shot that hit the pavement in front of Nate, it ricochet up and grazed Nate’s leg. Nate felt the burning of the bullet.

  The smaller man didn’t understand what was going on until he heard the sound that followed the event. He started to raise Nate’s rifle toward the direction of the gunfire, taking his aim off of Nate. Nate saw this and thought that was a big mistake.

  Nate quickly drew his pistol and dropped to one knee, then he fired quickly just as another shot found the man’s head. Nate still with the CB in his left hand and the pistol in his right hand, depressed the button.

  “I hoped you would hear this. I wasn’t sure it would get out at this range,” Nate said, realizing how close he came from being shot for the last time in his life.

  “Sorry, I ran the distance and had to set up, son. I’m not young anymore,” Henry said, realizing that he almost didn’t make it. Nate reached down to inspect his leg. He dropped his pants and could see the wound was only a graze, but it would still need to be cleaned and dressed well.