Survivors – A Novel of the Coming Collapse

Back at Building 3, wearing a fresh pair of rubber gloves, Lopez made a saturated solution of potassium chlorate and put it in a broiler pan. He then soaked eleven-inch sheets of printer paper that had been cut into four-inch-wide strips. Then he laid out the strips on the pavement outside of the building, to allow them to completely dry. These were then stored in Ziploc bags. He noted that for safety it was very important to store the chlorated paper and the bottles separately, only attaching them just before use.

After successfully testing a couple of the Molotovs at the Bloomfield plant’s “back forty,” Ricardo put on a demonstration. “When you are ready for ignition,” he explained, “slip a sheet of the chlorate paper under the rubber band. Then you just shake it to mix the sulfuric acid into the gasoline. Since these are dissimilar liquids, the acid won’t stay in suspension too long-sorta like your oil-and-vinegar salad dressing. But it just takes un poquito droplet of the H2SO4 to touch the paper, and you get a flame.” Hefting one of the paper-wrapped jars he said, “Like so. . . .” He shook a jar briefly and then lobbed it sixty feet, smashing it on the ground, where it immediately burst into a huge ball of flame and sent a black mushroom cloud skyward. There were shouts, hoots, and applause. Next, using his Vector V-93 clone, Lopez demonstrated how one of the Molotovs could easily be set off at a distance. He missed with his first shot, but the second one resulted in another gratifying ball of flame.

Each of the men on Laine’s team was given three dummy Molotovs filled with water and one live one for practice. All of them did well except for Bob Potts, who was below-average height and had a weak throwing arm. He laughed at his inadequate throws and said: “Well, then I’ll just have to get up close and personal, won’t I?”

Laine’s plan was straightforward: “Okay, we’ll plan on two Molotovs for each car or truck, and say five or six for each armored vehicle.” For commo gear, they used short-range tactical MURS handhelds. They were short on night-vision equipment, but there was no way to round up any more on short notice. Starlight scopes were more precious than gold in the new economy.

They carried 340 gallons of gasoline in five-gallon Scepter cans. The cases of Molotovs were strapped down on the flatbed trailer and covered with a brown canvas tarp. Another eight Scepter cans full of gasoline went into the bed of each pickup.

As a prearranged signal, the out-of-town teams from New Mexico and northeastern Arizona had blue rags hung on their radio antennas and front bumpers, for identification as “friendlies.”

The drive west to Prescott was tense but relatively uneventful. It was eerie seeing long stretches of road that were completely deserted. Passing through each town was particularly stressful. There were roadblocks in Shiprock and another at the Tuba City junction, but in both instances clearance had been arranged in advance via HF radio. They were waved through these roadblocks with shouts of “Good luck!” and “Get some!”

42 A Prodigy

“The necessity of procuring good intelligence is apparent and need not be further urged.”

-General George Washington, while commanding the Continental Army, July 26, 1777

The local volunteers mostly came from Prescott. Alex was disappointed that there were only two men that came from the town of Prescott Valley, which lay north of the highway between Humboldt and Prescott. Everyone met at the Conley Ranches clubhouse.

Cliff Conley did the initial organizing and rabble-rousing, but he soon handed the project off to Doctor K. Cliff opened the meeting, and after some introductions Doctor K. gave the “threat briefing.” In just a few minutes, he outlined what they had learned about La Fuerza, their ruthless history, their current location, and their likely next moves. Then he transitioned by saying, “I’d like to turn the next part of the briefing over to a young man who has earned my respect in the past few days. Please meet Jamie Alstoba of the Navajo Nation.” Doctor K. gestured with sweep of his arm to the back of the room.

There were loud murmurs in the crowd as a broad-faced boy, just thirteen years old and standing less than five feet tall, strode to the front of the meeting room. He wore scruffy stained blue jeans and a Pendleton shirt. Up until then he had hardly been noticed.