SURVIVING ABE: A Climate-Fiction Novel (9 page)

Message 1:
To the following recipients: Ethos@uscybercom, Duenna@noaa, Reeve@nsa

Cyber attacks underway.  As electrical power fails, initiate physical attacks against infrastructure.  Suggested targets are electrical substations, power generating facilities, antenna farms, sewage plants, food distribution warehouses, fuel refineries and storage facilities, and continued attacks on drinking water.

Our attacks on municipal water systems over the last 24 hours have had success in Atlanta and Washington, D.C. and prove the acts of a few dedicated individuals can stress the general public.  Today we urge the rank and file of dedicated individuals to do their part in achieving a sustainable human population on Earth.

Late last evening the power came back on and
Andy’s job with the generator had ended; no graveyard shift required.  Tye returned in the borrowed lift-gate truck and picked up the generator then they locked up the store for the night.

Waiting for sleep in the quiet darkness of his tent, Andy had tried vainly to think of anything other than Jennifer, but his mind circled every other topic he introduced and returned to her—he needed a circuit breaker for his brain.  When he gave up the fight and allowed himself to analyze the farmer's daughter sleep finally descended.

~~~

Most of the morning lethargy, induced by the
sound of steady rain drumming on the tent and a page-turner of a book, had kept Andy in his tent or around his camp.  When the rain finally lulled just past noon he decided to visit the store.  A vision of the snack aisle came to his mind, and the anticipation of sinking his teeth into something to eat grew as the distance to the store shrunk.  He should probably see if he could find something nutritious first, then a snack.  Andy was preoccupied with his thoughts of visiting the cool interior of the store and chatting with Jennifer while hunting for a meal, until he neared the edge of the grove and saw the parking lot.

Andy, still in the cover of the trees
, paused to watch the unfolding scene.  An aggressively driven lifted-pickup with oversized mudder-tires had tailgated Jennifer's smaller pickup into the parking lot.  As Jennifer pulled into her customary spot next to the store's back door the larger truck parked close behind, with the driver's side door opening before the truck came to a full stop.  The man Andy had seen the first time he entered the store jumped down from the big 4x4 and caught Jennifer beside her truck before she could make it to the store's back door.  He backed Jennifer up against her truck and then corralled her with his arms.  Their voices were too low in volume for Andy to hear, but the lack of Jennifer's ready smile indicated it was a less than jovial exchange.  It now made sense to Andy why he’d felt animosity from the guy when he'd interrupted their conversation in the store two days ago.  A connection between them, of some sort, existed.

He heard
Jennifer’s raised voice say, "No!  You need to leave—I need to get in the store—Now!"  She pushed the man back a step and tried to duck under his arm to go toward the back door.  The man leaned in against her, pinning her against the truck fender with his weight.  Jennifer pushed against him and turned her face away from him, in her struggle to get away.

As the morning passed without a break in the snow he began to think he'd made a mistake by not starting to walk out earlier this morning before the snow piled up.  The chances of Oley being caught in the same situation were too good to ignore.  Gus knew that
after dropping him off Oley had headed up to the Grand Mesa, a 10,000-foot high flattop mountain, with another group of hunters to get them situated. 
If
Oley had phone service and
if
he could get in touch with Search and Rescue he would be calling in the locations of all his hunters,
if
he had them in his GPS’s memory, several big
ifs
right there.  And so would all the rest of the outfitters, giving Search and Rescue a long list.  Gus realized his window of opportunity for self-rescue was closing with each passing hour.

With a sickening epiphany Gus knew he faced the clas
sic survival decision, a question dissected in survival how-to books and movies, and actually faced by real people throughout history, with mixed results. 
Take action or wait?  Do I depend on rescue or take independent action to save myself while I still can?  Wait for the elevator or take the stairs?

His decision had come after he’d dithered back and forth far too long.  By noon he should have been packed and walking out while the snow depth still allowed easy walking.  But the memory of both he and Oley checking the weather forecast had made him think the snow would end.  He still had trouble believing that he was actually a
bout to be snowbound.

"
An autumn elk hunt in Colorado’s Western Slope high country, what could be better than that
?" Gus remembered asking that question many times in the past few years.  This time his answer was quite different; he could think of any number of things he would rather be doing than getting caught in a high-altitude September snowstorm.  The rest of the evening passed with Gus huddled in the tent studying the quad map.  Finding not only the closest shelter, but also the easiest route to lower elevations, could make all the difference in his chances of reaching help.  Based on what he had seen yesterday and the contour lines on the map, he finally settled on a way out with one steep climb and most of the remaining distance a gradual decline.

The route crossed the valley, directly below
the point where he had been yesterday, to the far ridge. The one steep climb to the top of that ridge would only be about 1000 vertical feet, but fighting his way up through the snow would be grueling.  Once on top he could follow the ridgeline to a 4x4 trail that ended at CO Highway 141, the main paved road between Whitewater and Gateway, where he was sure to find help.

By bedtime he knew tomorrow looked good for dying with
his boots on.

At just over six
feet, and in the best physical condition of his life, Andy used his strength and momentum to throw Jennifer's attacker into a rolling heap across the wet pavement and back toward his truck. The man got up slowly, looked down at his torn and muddy clothes, a bloody knee and elbow, and then looked at Andy.

"
Well now, what do we have here?  Boy, you just made the mistake of your life drawing first blood, now you're gonna bleed."  With that, he pulled a knife and walked toward Andy.

After the initial collision Andy ended up between the front of the man's truck and the store's back door.  As soon as he saw the knife appear he quickly looked around for a weapon.  His eyes lit on the four-legged steel stool by the back door.  In one fast motion he picked up the stool swinging it hard into the pickup's chromed plastic grill and right front headlight; broken pieces exploded from the impact.

The crash and smashed parts of his truck falling to the pavement diverted the man’s attention long enough for Andy to land his next blow to the man's right arm and midsection.  As the knife clattered to the pavement, joining the splinters of the truck's grill and headlight, the man bent over clutching his arm to his stomach.

Andy wound up for another blow
, but Jennifer stepped in and grabbed his arm.  "Stop!"  She was now between them facing the man, "Leave now and don’t come back.  I’ll call the Sheriff and get a restraining order to keep you away, if you even think about coming back here!"

No words were spoken
until the man drove off, and then Jennifer turned to Andy, "What a surprise you are." She still had a grip on Andy’s arm and felt his muscles relax a little.  She put her other hand on his arm, pushing the stool to the ground.  "In fact, words escape me of how to express the thanks I feel that you were willing to fight for my safety," and she pulled him into a hug instead.

~~~

In the store Jennifer handed him a paper towel, while he bit into a burrito dripping with salsa, and listened to her explanation of how the incident had come about.  "I went on a date with that creep a few months ago.  Met him in a college class and thought he was a nice guy with ambitions.  One date was too many though—he’s got the possessive gene."

"He
now possesses one sore arm; maybe even broken.  It kind of felt like when the meaty part of the bat connects with a fastball—bone-jarring solid.  The next swing would have been a homer for sure, if you hadn’t gotten in the way."

"
Settle down there, cowboy!  Where’d you learn to swing a barstool like that, anyway?  Did you stop and get some experience at Gilley’s in Dallas?"

"T
hat would have been a great idea; bar research!  Since my next job is promoting a bar, it could have been a business expense too.  Even in Seattle I’ve heard of Gilley’s, so those guys must know how to market."

"Glad to help.  O
f course, too much research of that kind can end in paralysis, without much analysis," said Jennifer with a laugh.

"That’s a good point," Andy admitted
, thinking of a couple past drunken-episodes he’d sworn never to repeat.  "Maybe I should limit my research to Google ad-words and click-through rates."

"
I just read about pay-per-click advertising; is that what you do?"

"Basically, though it sounds simpler than it is," Andy answered.  "
But back to that guy, what’s his name?"

"Jeff."

"
Jeffrey
sure gave me the evil eye as he drove out of here.  What kind of a guy is he?  It didn't look like he'd just drop this."

Jennifer
looked at Andy for a moment before answering, "We have some mutual friends that I’m going to call to try to get this taken care of, quietly.  If he tries to do anything, I’ll call the Sheriff’s Department.  Our family has been in this county over a century; my dad is a member of the good old boy’s club.  Also, my girlfriends and I have our own ways of getting things done."

"The women have their own club, exclusive to the good old boy’s club?"

"Yup, we call it upper management."

"The matriarchs that control the patriarchs?"

"You’ve got the idea."

"Yes ma'am, I'm quick on the uptake of more than just food.  That reminds me, what time is dessert customarily served in this part of Texas?"

~~~

Andy hung around
helping Jennifer with odd jobs and talking with her during idle times while he kept an eye open for any sign of Jeff.  As he walked her to her truck at closing time Jennifer asked if he wanted a ride to a motel due to all the rain and excitement, but he declined—a decision he would rue before the night was over.

As usual,
Con awoke between 6 and 6:30
A.M.
  That she seemed to be in a freezer was unusual.  Though the air on her face felt frigid her back was warm, realizing that she felt her daughter's warmth brought the first smile of the day.  Seeing the windows blanketed with what could only be snow brought the first frown of her day. 
Good and bad have started the day dead even,
she thought.

She laid still for a
while not wanting to disturb Ela, but nature's call insisted, so she sat up as quietly as possible and worked her cold, wet shoes on.  Then she found and pulled the wire Hank had installed at the bottom of the hatch.

Who would have th
ought Subaru would neglect to design and build a mechanism to open the back hatch from the inside?  When she first discovered the hatch lacked an inside release she told Hank it was the thing she disliked most about the vehicle.  About an hour later he'd attached a wire to the release lever that she could pull from inside the vehicle. Pot roast for Hank!

As the hatch lifted
Con's sharp intake of breath awoke Ela, and had her instantly sitting up peering squinty-eyed at first, wide-eyed a moment later, looking at the world of white with shock.  Con broke the silence of the awestruck pair, "Ela, didn’t we talk about you getting a handle on all that wishful thinking about solving the water shortages of the Southwest?"

"
Mom, this is epic.  It must be close to a foot of snow and still coming down.  When this melts you and Hank ought to go into the bridge-building business because there’s going to be trouble, then more trouble downstream, and then more . . . did you know floods kill more people than any other type of natural disaster?  If this melts before we get across the stream it might take awhile to find an intact bridge."

"Speaking of floods, I gotta go,"
Con said as she closed the hatch.

Ela
got busy with housekeeping chores and soon had half the backseat and both front seats cleared.  Moments later the hatch opened and Con stepped under it.

"
I think we had a polar shift and the North Pole got stuck right here under our survival property."

"
Where do you come up with this stuff?"  Ela laughed.  "Hurry! Give me the jacket 'cause now I gotta go," she said before trudging off to find a bush.

Con rummaged aro
und and found her ice scraper/snowbrush-combo gadget and swept the snow off the windows and around the door openings, so they could get in, leaving the wet snow outside the car as much as possible.  Taking extra care in keeping everything dry inside the car had become a high priority since it now looked like they would be here for longer than one overnight.  The last thing she did was clear large openings on each side of the car and around the tailpipe to allow the exhaust an easy exit away from the vehicle. They would be starting the engine intermittently to use the heater, and she didn't want the exhaust gases to build up in the air pocket beneath the car.

Shorty after their excursions into the snowstorm, they were sitting
in the front seats, with the heater and defroster on high, looking out at an alien landscape.  Both of them processed what they were seeing, and what it meant for them, to the monotonous rhythm of windshield wipers

"Okay
Mom, you ready for me to run through this?"

"
Sure, but let me give the condensed version first and then you can elaborate on the details," Con answered.

"Okay."

"We’re screwed and could die out here."

"Succinct, Mom, succinct.  Got a plan?"

"Hold fast for the day," Con answered.

Ela
thought for a few minutes about that, "I think
bad
has already happened, so it’s probably safe to break out the granola bars. I’m hungry."

"Chocolate or Banana?"
Con asked with a selection in each hand.

"
Whatever, the flavoring is probably artificial anyway," Ela said flatly.

"Okay
, you get chocolate for breakfast and banana for supper."

"What about lunch?"
Ela asked.

"
I’m buying breakfast and supper, you’re on your own for lunch," Con said and immediately regretted it.  She didn’t like anybody causing her daughter unease, especially herself.

"
I’m really sorry this is happening, Sweetie," Con said with concern.  "But I’m sure this will let up soon—and they will be plowing the highway.  As soon as it stops snowing we’ll find a place to cross the creek and walk up to the highway.  However, as long as there's blowing snow out there, limiting the visibility, we need to stay in the car and keep warm and dry.  We have enough gas to last a couple of days if we use it sparingly."

"
Does this jalopy have a radio that works?" Ela asked. "Maybe we can find out what’s up with this weather."

"There isn't
much FM reception in this part of the canyon, but AM stations come in fine, I think.  You try it, with my hearing it isn’t worth the effort, I don’t understand much of what’s said."

Ela
turned the key to power the accessories and started searching. A political talk show came over the radio’s speaker, "I’ll leave it here for a bit, if they have news and weather updates it will probably be on the half hour, a few minutes from now."

Con stayed quiet
for the next fifteen minutes while Ela listened intently to the fading broadcast.

"Okay
Mom, I got some of it and here is what is going on: our weather problem has a name, it's Winter Storm Abe.  He's stalled to the south of Las Vegas and continuing to dump snow across Western Colorado and the Four Corner States. The forecast is for continued snow today and tomorrow before this system starts to move to the east."

"What was that about the power?"
Con asked.

"
Abe caused a large power outage, but he also has help. Someone, they don’t yet know who, has unleashed a grassroots movement attacking basic utilities, and they've been, at least partly, successful."

After a pause Ela
went on, "There are reports of vandalism to electrical substations and communications facilities.  In response to that our military shut down the GPS system over this part of the country.  They feared that terrorists and/or vandals were using the GPS system to navigate to some of the more remote substations and communications facilities.  There is something déjà vu about all this . . ."

Con thought for a moment, "Climate c
hange can affect more than just the weather. Sounds like the diplomatic climate is heating up too. If the powers-that-be are ever able to get an address for the instigator of these attacks, it wouldn’t surprise me if they sent a drone to RSVP, probably be a blast to watch, too."

"
Mom, this is serious.  We need to worry how the two of us are going to survive this," Ela said.

"
We have shelter and heat for a while."  She turned the key to power up the gas gauge.  "And we are still at almost three-quarters of a tank of gas," Con added reassuringly.

"
If we stay here we will either freeze or starve, so there's no long-term solution in staying here.  I do agree that we need to hole up until it stops snowing; we don't even have winter coats.  If the weather report was right, and I understood it correctly, then we have essentially two days and two nights before the sun shines again," Ela stated, with her usual need to put things in an orderly fashion.

"
The bright side of our survival situation is we have plenty of water, a well and a year-round stream," Con said rolling her eyes and gesturing to the arctic like landscape.  Then she continued, "And we have shelter, as long as we have gasoline to help keep us warm."

"
Mom, I read that one of the first things to do, if time allows, when first realizing that you are caught in a survival situation is to do a complete inventory of everything in the immediate area. That way we identify the resources available to us."

Con got out of the driver’s seat and quick
ly jumped into the upright backseat, so she would have access to the stuff in the rear.  "Good idea. Let’s do the food first, since that’s critical."

"Okay, how do you want to do this?"
Ela asked.

"
How about I find all the food back here and stack it in the driver’s seat.  You look through the glove box, and anything else up there, and do the same?"

Ela
popped open the glove box as an answer and started digging.  Breath mints and wrapped candy were scattered among ink pens, owner's manual, and ammunition.  Ela picked up a cartridge and read the head stamp, "9mm.  Got the other part that goes with this, Mom?"

"
Absolutely, never leave home without it.  Never know when you might run into a hostile Indian out here," Con answered.

"
See quite a few of those around here?"

"No, but I keep an eye out," Con answered, and then continued talking as she went through the rear of the car.  "I admire the Ute people, it took hardy people to thrive in a harsh country like this.  Unlike many other indigenous tribes there is no history of the Ute people migrating here, instead evidence suggests they lived around here for over a thousand years, some still do, and that's perseverance.  In that time they developed a rich art culture, some of it pretty amazing.  The Utes even discovered that quartz crystals in a rawhide rattle glow when they hit each other.  Imagine a chief shaking that rattle as he addresses the tribal elders, as impressive to them as a light saber is to us, probably.  They were also skilled warriors, so I'd need an equalizer if I ran into one."

Ela started in on the console and found more odd pieces of what was probably petrified hard candy.  At the bottom she found two granola bars, and pulled them out with a grimace and tossed them in the pile of edibles.  Reaching as far as she could under the seat she could feel something just at the tip of her fingers.  Forcing herself to bend over further, pressing the side of her head against the dash, she finally pinched it between two fingers, and carefully slid it out from under the seat—a can of Copenhagen.

"Mom?"
Ela questioned, holding it up.

Con
turned around and broke into laughter, "That rascal!"

Ela
waited for her mom to catch her breath and dab her eyes.  "Hank, he must have just done that when he washed the car, hiding that as an emergency supply, in case he ever got stranded with me.  Fooled him . . . I picked you to get stranded with.  I’m sure it would be okay if you have some though, since you have to be here in his place."

"
Yuck!  Maybe we can barter it to a passing Ute for some pemmican," Ela said as she tossed it into the pile and they both laughed.  "You've been anti-tobacco forever, yet you're okay with Hank dipping, why is that?"

Con turned around
and settled back in the seat and studied her daughter as if trying to see if she wanted a real answer, or their usual banter. She decided on the former, "Relationships between two people, blood-related or not, are complicated for everyone over age twelve.  As we get older forming a new relationship is much more complicated than it is for younger people."

She let th
at soak in and continued with, "By the time someone reaches age sixty, or so, they are usually more of a conglomeration than a single entity.  For example, when I was in the Marines I was quite a different person than I was a couple years later, after you had arrived.  All of us old farts have gone through character building times, each of them adding to the personality that makes us unique. If I choose to be around someone and enjoy my time, I've learned the best way for me to do so, is to accept others as they are; not waste a lot of time and effort trying to change them."

"Even if it's for their own good?"

Con laughed, "Only if you are willing to give up your own vices in exchange, even that's risky."

"Where did the accepting attitude come from?  I don't remember you as exactly the accepting type growing up."

"You were so busy trying on personas and going through phases you probably just didn't notice.  But, what I’m talking about is letting your partner retain some of those pieces of a former life that do no harm to you.  You can’t just find a person you are physically attracted to and tell yourself that as soon as you train him or her everything will be perfect."

Ela
didn’t say anything, so Con continued, "I don’t approve of tobacco or alcohol, and he doesn’t approve of smoking marijuana.  The important thing is we are able to appreciate each other
as we are
, with acceptance of the other’s faults in return for their acceptance of our own." Con turned away and returned to gathering the food.  Ela honored her mother’s unspoken signal to not tread any further down the current path.

"
So, what have we got?" Con asked as they finished going through it all.

Ela
started on the food pile, "For food we have: two freeze-dried meals, six assorted flavors of granola bars, one quart-sized bag of trail mix, one large bag of Peanut M&Ms, two bags of beef jerky, eight individually-wrapped hard candies, two tins of Altoid breath mints, ten green tea packets, one small jar of instant coffee, twenty individual packets of sugar and one unopened can of Copenhagen.  It looks like we can look forward to freezing to death before we starve to death."  Then Ela asked, "I don’t suppose I overlooked a stove in here for the tea, coffee, and freeze-dried food?"