Desperate Times (8 page)

“So, Jimmy,” said Julie, picking up a chip
and holding it up to her mouth. “How long do you think this will
last? I heard on the news that the banks are shut down
indefinitely. Did you hear that?”

“No,” answered Jimmy, swallowing a mouthful
of his burger. “I did hear that the National Guard has been
mobilized. I don’t know. I suppose it’ll be a week or so before
they can get a lid on this thing, maybe more. Maybe this will all
blow over by Monday and we can come back home.”

“Right,” scoffed Julie, delicately taking a
bite of her chip. “I doubt it. I think we’re in for a long haul and
that the American dream is a thing of the past.”

“I’m with you,” said Bill, his mouth full of
food. “I don’t think things are ever gonna be back to normal. Not
the way they have been, anyhow. And we’ve got Washington to thank
for it. They got us in this mess. I hate the government. I really
do.”

Cindy spoke, her voice building with each
word. “They told us in school that we’re in a depression and that
the cycle has to run itself out. Things will turn around and we
have to believe that. Times might be hard right now, but if we all
work together and try not to panic, we’ll come through this. We’re
all Americans, right? As Americans we have to trust our elected
officials to do the right thing, to enforce the Constitution. Ever
hear of it, Dad? You might try reading it sometime.”

There was a small spattering of applause as
those within earshot showed their appreciation for what she’d said.
Cindy held her head up, her jaw set.

Bill opened his mouth like a fish out of
water. No words escaped.

Jimmy smiled, knowing what Cindy had said was
true. She’d shut her dad down and had done so by reminding them all
who they were. She sounded much older than her age and her eyes
challenged his; or maybe they were challenging Julie’s? Either way,
Cindy had spoken well and Jimmy beamed. He was so proud of her at
that moment.

They finished eating. Julie’s knee casually
bumping into Jimmy’s from time to time, her eyes lingering a little
too long on his own. All the while, Cindy was watching as if she
were Paula’s sister. After they’d finished eating, Jimmy and Julie
got up together, taking their litter with them and depositing it in
the big blue can next to the garage.

“So, I’ll talk to you a little later,”

“Right,” said Jimmy.

Julie gave Jimmy a flash of smile and quickly
rejoined Brenda on the other side of the lawn. Brenda was drinking
a beer, dressed as if she’d ridden in on a Harley. Jimmy hadn’t
seen her in a few years and those years looked like they hadn’t
been good ones.

Everyone was soon joining in the cleanup.
They were all anxious to get on the road. The women bustled at the
tables, giving commands to their husbands and children. Ken
approached Jimmy and Bill; behind him were some men from the
Plant.

“We’ve got to get that truck loaded. Want to
give us a hand?” Ken asked.

“Sure thing,” said Jimmy.

Ken opened the garage door, revealing a
modest pile of suitcases and plastic bins. “Give me a hand with
this stuff. If anyone wants to lighten their load, there should be
plenty of room in the truck.”

Fifteen minutes later they were ready to go.
Ken instructed everyone to follow Jimmy and said he’d follow at the
end of the line. There would be no stopping along the way unless
everyone stopped at the same time. Ken made that point quite clear.
There was a rest area at the halfway point and the plan was to stop
there. Children were rounded up and vehicles began to line up on
the road. Jimmy turned the Mack around in a neighboring driveway
and took the lead. Bill followed. Suddenly a fist pounded on the
locked passenger door. Jimmy reached over and unlocked it. The door
opened.

“Want some company?” asked Julie, her eyes
twinkling in the afternoon sun. She didn’t wait for an answer and
nimbly hopped up into the cab.

Jimmy shrugged his shoulders. She could ride
along, but he was going to use this time to make his position clear
to her. He was in love with Paula. Nothing was going to happen
between the two of them. Julie closed her door and Jimmy could
smell her fresh perfume, a fragrance he remembered well. Julie
seemed as if she’d been frozen in time. Jimmy cracked his window
and lit up a Camel.

“Still smoking?” Julie asked, sliding next to
Jimmy on the bench seat.

“Yep, I sure am. Buckle up. I don’t want to
get pulled over.”

“Yes, sir,” replied Julie, choosing to pull
the middle belt from between the seats. She slid it around her slim
waist and snapped the clasp. “Relax, Jimmy,” she said with a smile.
“I’m not going to attack you.”

“I’m not worried,” Jimmy lied, releasing the
brakes and shifting the truck into gear.

“Good,” said Julie.

The caravan turned onto the highway, keeping
together close as Ken had instructed. Each one of them was leaving
behind a home and a life. The few who still had jobs were leaving
those behind and every last one of them was leaving a little piece
of themselves in the rearview mirrors, unsure when, if ever, they’d
return. Even then, what would they be returning home to?

The traffic grew lighter with each passing
mile and they were over a hundred miles from Minneapolis before the
sun began to set in the western sky. It was the last sunset that
some of the travelers would ever see.

The innocence would soon be torn from their
eyes as the outside world changed beyond their comprehension. They
didn’t know it, but there wasn’t a single State Patrol between them
and their destination. The counties had called off their cruisers
and the nearest on-duty cop was getting ready to clock out to be
with his own family. The great State of Minnesota had just gone
belly up.

The closing of the banks had caused the
greatest wave of panic since the Cuban missile crisis. The banks
were soon followed by the corporate sector. Businesses sent their
people home with false promises and trucking companies began
pulling their rigs off the road. Public utilities began to blink
out by late afternoon like so many bad bulbs on a Christmas tree. A
mass exodus was taking place. Like rats leaving a sinking ship, the
working people of America had turned tail and abandoned their
posts. The afternoon rush hour was unlike any this country had ever
seen.

That tidbit of information had somehow been
lost by the good people at the Emergency Broadcast System who had
taken control of the airwaves. They tried desperately to put a good
face on the day’s events, pointing out that tomorrow was another
day and playing prerecorded footage of peaceful streets in quiet
towns. The last plug to be pulled by the government was the
internet, leaving the American people totally in the dark and
without access to any factual information.

The looting had begun in New York City and
spread across the country like a plague. Minneapolis was burning.
Saint Paul was in shambles. People flooded the streets and mayhem
ensued. There was no one there to stop it.

The day would go down in history as the
darkest America had ever known.

The caravan reached the remote rest area on
Highway 53 at just after nine. Jimmy pulled the Mack into the back
of the lot and everyone else followed. Thirty miles northwest of
Duluth, the facility was a popular stop for vacationers on their
way to Minnesota’s Iron Range and the great wilderness beyond. They
joined about half a dozen other cars in the lot. Julie and Jimmy
had visited the entire way there, laughing about old times and
catching up on their old friends. The conversation had been so
light-hearted that Jimmy had never had the opportunity to bring up
Paula. As a matter of fact, he hadn’t even thought of her for the
last fifty miles. He turned the ignition off and welcomed the
silence.

Jimmy and Julie got out of the truck and
stretched. Bill nearly scrambled out of his car and headed for the
bathroom. Cindy joined Jimmy and Julie at the Mack and gave them
both a good looking over.

“You gotta go?” Cindy asked Julie, cocking
her head in the direction of the bathrooms.

“Yeah,” replied Julie.

Jimmy watched them walk up to the brick
building as the sun was setting behind the birch trees beyond the
highway. He could tell by the way they were talking that Cindy was
saying everything that Jimmy had intended to. He was sure of it. He
was also just as sure that Julie would hear only what she wanted to
hear. She had a strong will and she just might take Cindy’s advice
as a challenge. Either way, Jimmy had been happy for the diversion.
He needed a second to himself. He wondered how this looked to the
others but reasoned that Julie was someone to take his mind off the
day’s events. What could be wrong with that?

Ken joined him at the truck, Patty following
close behind. Most everyone was heading inside to use the
facilities.

“Jimmy,” said Ken. “I owe you an apology. I
don’t know what came over me. It’s been a tough day, ya know? I
acted like a total jerk back there and I’m sorry for it. Damn
sorry. I don’t know what else to say. I just hope you can find it
in your heart to forgive me.”

“Aw, don’t worry about it,” said Jimmy,
taking Ken’s hand and giving it a quick shake. He was relieved that
Ken had finally made the peace.

With Patty leading the way, the last of the
group made their way up to the building. Jimmy wasn’t about to
leave the truck, not after what’d happened earlier. After everyone
was inside, he stepped behind the truck and relieved himself.

That was when he first heard the motorcycles.
They were far away, a mile or two to the south of them, but they
were loud and definitely headed their way.

Jimmy looked back at the line of vehicles
behind the truck. He was anxious to get moving again and felt that
as long as they continued to do so, they were reasonably safe. He
was unaware of the turn of events to the south. Had any of them
known, they wouldn’t have let their guard down.

That would prove to be very costly.

The John Warner Defense Authorization Act of
2007 was signed into law by President George W. Bush on October 19,
2006. This law stripped the governors’ control of their National
Guard units and gave the President sweeping powers over those units
in times of public emergency.

Rolling thunder: That’s what bikers called it
and Jimmy understood why. The sound was deafening, growing louder
with each passing second. The approaching motorcycles had caught
his ear minutes ago and the roar was threatening to fall upon them
like an avalanche. Bill, Cindy, and Julie had rejoined him back at
the truck. Jimmy’s mind raced as he imagined a thousand different
scenarios, none of which were good.

“There’s no power in there,” said Julie.
“There doesn’t seem to be power anywhere.”

“That was creepy,” said Cindy, raising her
voice as the motorcycles grew nearer. “Wow! Is that ever loud!
Don’t those guys believe in mufflers?”

“Julie, take Cindy over that hill and stay
down!” Jimmy shouted, pointing to a nearby mound that rose just
high enough to keep them out of view of the parking lot.

“Why?” asked Julie, “because you hear a few
motorcycles? Jimmy, quit acting so paranoid.”

“Just do it! Please, there isn’t much time!”
Jimmy shouted, trying to be heard above the growing roar.

They were seconds away and Jimmy could hear
the throttles cutting back as the group slowed to enter the rest
stop. The rapping of their exhaust pipes echoing their harbinger’s
call. A minivan roared past them, followed by a pickup truck.

“Fine,” hollered Julie, “come on, Cindy.
Follow me.”

Relieved, Jimmy watched them jog toward the
hill and disappear from sight.

“Maybe I should go with them,” Bill shouted
to Jimmy, his face looking pale in the twilight.

“Don’t worry; it’s probably nothing,” Jimmy
shouted back. “Just be cool and everything should be fine.”

“Be cool. Right, I can be cool.”

The first of the motorcycles rumbled their
way into the parking area. There were twenty-some in all, the
leather clad bikers riding two abreast with absolute precision.
Following them was a new looking school bus. Whatever district it
hailed from had been crudely spray painted over. They parked about
fifty yards away, one by one, revving their engines vigorously
before shutting them off.

The door to the bus opened and a
barrel-chested man emerged carrying a battered cooler. He had huge
tattooed arms and a long greasy beard. Just like their motorcycles,
the men were loud. They got off of their bikes, hooting and
hollering and eagerly took beers from the cooler. They talked among
themselves and laughed boisterously. Women emerged from the bus;
some were young and looked to be in their mid-teens. They looked as
hard-boiled as their men and they walked with an air of confidence,
many holding six packs and burning cigarettes.

And here came Ken and Patty’s group from the
bathrooms. Ken led the way, looking straight ahead and holding
Patty’s hand. The others followed, ushering children past the
motley crew, skirting them as much as possible. Crude comments were
made followed by howling laughter. The families continued on their
way, pretending not to hear.