One Second After

John was silent. Asheville. Exit 64 to Exit 53, eleven miles. A day hardly went by without Elizabeth trying to figure out some excuse to go to the mall. A week didn’t go by when he didn’t drop into the Barnes & Noble to browse the military history shelves and then have a coffee, or take the kids downtown to their favorite pizza joint, the Magic Mushroom, where all the weirdos and hippies, as Jennifer called them went, much to the kids’ delight as they enjoyed a meal and “people-watched” the street scene.

Eleven miles, across unknown territory, it seemed like a journey filled with peril. My God, in just four days have we already become so agoraphobic, so drawn in on ourselves?

“I think we should go into Asheville tomorrow and see what the hell is going on there,” John finally ventured.

“Agreed,” Charlie replied.

John looked around and realized he had put his foot into it. “Ok, I’ll drive.”

CHAPTER FIVE

DAY 5

“This is impossible,” Charlie announced, and John grunted in agreement.

Just past Exit 55, heading west, the interstate was completely blocked with scores of abandoned cars. During rush hour, it was this stretch of road where backups usually gridlocked, and when the EMP did hit, all the traffic had simply stopped, blocking the road across both lanes and the shoulder, where so many had drifted over as their engines stalled.

He went into reverse, weaving around the roadblock of cars back to the exit, swung around, and got off the road, then went down to Route 70, which paralleled the interstate on the north side.

“I wanted to go this way anyhow,” Washington said, sitting in the backseat of the Edsel. “Maybe the veterans hospital has some sort of connection.

Flanking Washington were two of the boys from the college ball team, Phil Vail and Jeremiah Sims. At Washington’s recommendation, which Charlie had agreed to, the two had come along “for the ride,” and concealed down by their feet were two shotguns and in Washington’s hand a Colt .45.

John nodded, took the turnoff onto 70, then headed west again, weaving around stalled cars, under the bridge for the Blue Ridge Parkway, and just past that, on their right, were the grounds of the veterans hospital.

They pulled through the gate, and John’s heart sank. Somehow, he had hoped that here, a veterans hospital, a federal facility, maybe there was a miracle, a hardened generator, or at least some semblance of normal life, of orderliness. He half-expected to see troops lined up guarding the place.

Instead it was elderly patients scattered on the lawn, some lying on blankets, others just wandering about. A lane had been cleared of stalled cars approaching the highway, a “rent-a-cop” holding a shotgun standing in the middle of the road, motioning them to stop.

John leaned out as the cop came cautiously around to the side of the car, shotgun half-leveled.

“I’m Colonel John Matherson,” he announced, feeling a bit self-conscious using that title again. He was so used to being called Professor or Doc these last few years, but Washington had advised him to revert to his old title for this trip.

“I live in Black Mountain. And this is Charlie Fuller, our director of public safety. In the backseat there is Sergeant Washington, a retired marine, and a couple of students from the college.”

The cop nodded, saying nothing, but he turned the gun away from John.

“We’re heading into Asheville to try and find out some information. Is anything running here? Electricity?”

“Nope. No power. You folks got any?”

“No, sir.”

“Is there anyone in charge here who knows what’s going on? Contact with Raleigh or Washington?”

Again the cop shook his head.

“Damn.”

“Yeah, damn,” the cop replied. “It’s hell inside there. These old guys dying off left and right. Wouldn’t think they could die so fast when without medicine for a few days.”

John thought of the nursing home, of Tyler. He had been nervous about leaving Jen and the girls alone with Tyler. But Ben had become something of a permanent fixture at the house, and John’s across-the-street neighbors Lee Robinson and his wife, Mona, parents of Seth and Pat, had volunteered to come up and give Jen some time off to sleep.

Tyler, of course, was failing. There was no IV, no oxygen, just pouring Ensure and water into him through his stomach tube. The agony was no painkillers. It was a blessing perhaps that the few days of neglect had pushed him to the edge of a coma. But when he was conscious John could see the agony in Tyler’s eyes. Jen had stayed up through the night, and just before John left, Mona had walked up to lend a hand.

John looked around again at the grounds, the patients, a few nurses lugging buckets of water up from a creek at the edge of the hospital grounds. He could only imagine what it was like inside; it was already turning into one hell of a hot day.

“I think we best head into town,” Charlie said.

The cop nodded.