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The next was a red, hand-crank and solar emergency radio. The controls were all labeled with Chinese characters. The final box also contained a radio. This was an older, used boom box with two rechargeable batteries.

“How are we going to charge them?” Marie asked.

Doc pulled a foldout solar charger from the bottom of the box and held it up. “With this.”

Councilman Myer checked out the windup radio. “Why two?”

“In case one didn’t make it.” Marie put the radios back in their protective cases.

“One old and one new?” Doc said.

“I’m guessing that they’ve asked for donations of portable radios to get them out fast. Everyone in California has an old boom box in their attic. I can just see them collecting them and transporting them to the airports.” Marie noticed something in the second box. “There’s a piece of paper in here.”

Doc craned his neck so that he could see what it said.

Marie read it out loud. “Tune to 1600 kHz. Broadcasts will be made on other frequencies as well and will be clearest after sunset. If you experience poor reception, move away from metal structures and tall buildings.”

* * *

The Lipton town hall had been built in 1913. The small auditorium had a stage, and its dark wood floor was original. It was uneven in a pleasant, old-timey way. The moldy odor was barely noticeable.

Marie stood at the edge of the stage, wishing she had a microphone. “For those of you still coming in, please leave your hurricane lanterns out on the sidewalk. I’m looking at you, Thomas. We can’t take the chance of a fire in here. Our oil lamps are enough.” She pointed to the lanterns mounted on the wall and hanging from the ceiling. Someone from 1913 would have been right at home.

She continued. “Please don’t worry about them walking off. We have many more lanterns in town than we need.

“Once the broadcast begins I want complete silence in here.” Marie paused. “If you need to cough, go outside. Don’t ask your neighbor to repeat anything. If you can’t hear, don’t worry. Marsha Brubacker has a manual stenotype machine, and she’ll be recording everything. Doc Swanson will also be taking notes. We’ll type up a transcript and have mimeographed copies here tomorrow.”

Marie looked down at her checklist. “No kids allowed. You can gather up close to the stage, but please, no pushing.”

The red Chinese emergency radio sat on a table at center stage. A carpenter had thrown together some plywood reflector panels so the sound would project out into the room.

Marie raised her hands again. “Quiet, folks. After the broadcast, we—”

When a buzzing came from the radio, the crowd surged forward. Several people said, “Shhh!”

The buzzing stopped. A cricket chirped under the stage and moths fluttered around the lanterns. The radio came to life.

“Greetings, my fellow Americans. This is Herman Black, governor of California, speaking to you from Sacramento.” The governor had a low voice that projected well into the hall. He spoke slowly and distinctly. “Some of you will be joining us for the first time. To those of you, welcome.

“Before I begin, here is a short, recorded announcement from President Dane Hallstrom.”

After another delay, Hallstrom’s voice rang out. “Greetings, my fellow Americans. I have a short message for you.

“The government is fully functional, and we are in constant radio communication with California. We are resupplying the areas of the country affected by the electrical event, and you will hear more about that from Governor Black. The whole world has come together to help us recover. We weathered the die-off last summer, and I’m sure that we can do the same with this new crisis. I will now turn this back to Governor Black, who will give you the latest information. Thank you.”

Black’s voice came back on. “I will start with a general status update—a state of the union message.

“Following that, I will have information and schedules for food and equipment distributions, and most importantly, medical evacuations.”

The governor went on to describe the resupply plans.

He continued. “Many of you are dependent on medical equipment. We are preparing evacuations for you from over three-hundred-fifty airports. We will be using commercial airplanes to evacuate ambulatory patients. We ask that patients carry with them a certificate from their doctor describing their condition. Doctors will be on the planes to perform triage.

“Here is the schedule of airport evacuations. This recording will go through the airports alphabetically, along with the date you need to be at the airport. If you miss a flight, don’t worry, we will have more soon.”

The governor read through the list. It took him twenty-two minutes to get to the Ps. Marie leaned forward, and held her pencil ready for the information that would be so important for her son’s survival. Sam’s health was deteriorating, and he had to have his remaining dialysis treatments soon.

“Portland International Airport, September thirtieth, four p.m.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

September 29, 2018

“Now, don’t put your arms around me, Sam, because if you fall, you’ll pull me off. Hold onto this part of the saddle.” Marie twisted around, looked at her fifty-eight-year-old son, and pointed to the rear lip of the saddle. “It’s called the cantle.”
Hang in there, Sam!

Sam sat behind her on the Happy Earth Farm’s reserve Clydesdale, Clyde. He was skittish and stubborn, and it took all Marie’s horse-handling skills to keep him under control. The sun was still below the horizon. Gusts whipped the maples lining the road, their leaves starting to turn. A real estate sign rattled and a plastic grocery bag tumbled past them.

Mike rode a mountain bike with a trailer that held the trio’s camping gear. Marie warned him to stay back from the horse—the bike made Clyde nervous.

They started off from Lipton and had a full day and a half to get Sam to the Portland International Airport. If all went smoothly, he’d be evacuated to a hospital that could give him his final dialysis treatments. The airport was only thirty miles away, but they’d heard rumors of armed gangs on the road, so they left time for detours and delays.

“And keep your feet forward,” Marie said. “The horse doesn’t like it if your feet hit him in the flank. How you feeling?”

Sam rubbed his face. “I’m fine. Stop worrying about me. Let’s get going.”

At first the trip went well. Clyde had no problems with his load, and Mike stayed far enough back to keep the horse happy. They made steady progress, with a cool breeze and a warm sun. They could almost fool themselves into feeling they were on their way to a picnic.

That all changed in the late afternoon when they came to a roadblock near the exit to Lymon, Maine. The barricade of logs, appliances, and discarded furniture extended across both lanes. Four teenagers with guns stood behind it. The youngest, who looked about fourteen, pointed his rifle at the horse. The oldest was bare-chested with tattoos covering his arms. He sat on top of a rusted refrigerator, dangling his feet and smoking a cigar.

“Can’t come into this town,” he said.

“We don’t want to go into the town,” Marie patted Clyde on the neck, trying to keep him calm. “We are on our way to the airport. We’ll stay on the highway.”

“No. You have to go round.” The teenager spat.

The detour would add twenty miles to their trip. Even if Clyde could make it, it would add another day. Marie kept her tone even. “Do you kids understand that if this man doesn’t get to the airport in time, he will die?”

“Don’t matter none to me, Granny. You ain’t comin’ this way. Go. Around.” He pointed back the way they’d come.

Marie frowned at him.
Where were the grownups?
Had these kids taken over the town?

She squinted at the boy standing next to Tattoo Boy. “Aren’t you a Toddson? Murphy Toddson’s grandson?”

The boy bit his lower lip and looked at the leader but said nothing.

The leader broke the silence. “Shoo!” He raised his shotgun.

Marie put her arms up. “Okay, we’re going. No problem, guys. We’ll go back and head up Route Nine. That will work, right?”

The teenagers just stood there. Marie wheeled Clyde around, and they headed back the way they’d come. As soon as they were out of earshot, Mike rode up close enough to talk. Clyde stiffened, his tension transmitted through the saddle.

“Nana, are we really going to go around?”

“No. We’ll camp here. It’s about time to quit for the day anyway. We’ll find a spot where we can watch those kids, and you and I will take turns. I doubt they’ll stay there all night. If they leave or go to sleep, we’ll slip through. That’s our only chance.”

They doubled back and set up the sleeping bags in a dense forest near the barricade. Marie tended to the horse. Sam fell asleep.

The forest ended on the hill above the teenagers, providing the perfect surveillance spot. The kids spent the night around a bonfire, drinking and fighting. Marie fell asleep during her watch, but when gunshots rang out, she woke with a start. Three of the teenagers headed back to town, shooting their guns in the air. That left the youngest sitting on a couch by the fire.

Marie rubbed her eyes and looked at the glowing dial of her old wind-up watch. Four a.m. She fetched Mike, and the two of them crept up on the remaining teenager.

The snap of a twig gave them away. The boy spun around, froze, and then sprinted off toward town, yelling. But he was no match for Mike. Mike quickly overtook him and brought him to the ground with a towering tackle. Marie ripped a patch of fabric off his shirt and stuffed it into the boy’s mouth. They tied him to the handle of the rusty refrigerator.

“What did you think of that, Mike?” Marie asked as they hurried back to camp.

“Fun.”

Marie chuckled. “Yeah, I guess it was.”

“Kinda wish it was the tattoo guy.” Mike said.

“Yeah, me too.”

Back at camp, they woke Sam and were soon off along the direct route to the airport. Would there be a barricade at the other end of town? Surely anyone there would let them pass since they were riding away from town.

They did indeed find a barricade at sunrise, but it was unmanned. They rode past.
Glad we’re through with that.
Their problems were behind them now. That’s when shots rang out. Clyde bolted, and Mike stood on the pedals to keep up. Sam was fading but hung on.

“Don’t worry, we’re almost out of range now,” Marie yelled. Wishful thinking.
How do I know what their range is?

Her words were cut off by Clyde. He screamed, took a few more uncertain steps, and stopped. The horse hobbled around, continuing to neigh loudly. Marie dismounted and pulled Sam off. He fell to the ground with a thud.

They must be out of range of the guns now. She looked back. Five kids. They came around the barricade, spread out, and advanced. She handed the reins to Mike. “Don’t move.”

Marie pulled an AR-15 assault rifle out of the pack and sent a burst of automatic fire at the advancing teens. The effect was delicious. The kids, obviously not expecting any armed resistance, made a panicked retreat back to the barricade. She could have killed them all had she wanted to. The burst let them know what they were up against.

Marie checked Clyde, who was still hobbling around noisily but was under control despite the gunfire. He’d been hit in the hock—the elbow of a hind leg.

She pulled the reins down forcing the horse’s muzzle toward the ground. “Mike, hold the reins down like this and stay sharp. I’m going to shoot him. He’s going to fall.” Marie took close aim at the center of the X made by Clyde’s ears and eyes and pulled the trigger. She’d worried that he’d move his head at the last second, but he didn’t. The horse fell with a crash.

They took cover behind Clyde’s huge body, like in the westerns. Marie sent off another burst of fire, and the teenagers stayed behind the barricade.

Next, Marie tossed all the camping gear out of the bike trailer.

“Nana, what are you doing?” Mike looked from the barricade to his great-grandmother.

“Sam, get in the trailer. Mike, ride. The airport is only about ten miles from here. Just stay on the highway. You can be there in an hour.”

“What about you, Nana?” Mike watched his great uncle squeeze awkwardly into the low single-wheeled bike trailer. He apparently didn’t have enough energy to argue.

“I’m going to hold these guys off and give you a chance to get away.” Marie said.

“But they’ll kill you.”

“No, no, don’t be silly, I have a plan. It will work. I have no time to explain. You have to go right now. Here they come.” The teenagers sought cover that was closer to her position.
Why do they care about us? Are they after the rifle?

Marie lay down some covering fire while Mike rode off toward the airport. They hadn’t even had time for a proper goodbye.

The teenagers fanned out.
Of course I don’t have a plan.
Poor Mike was never very smart, but he’s a great guy. A great great-grandson.