THE DAY: A Novel of America in the Last Days (The End of America Series) (13 page)

The
Harlan Robbins Farm

Crown
Point, Indiana

              
Once
Harlan and Dorothy Robbins realized that America had been hit with multiple nuclear
detonations, their next thought was how the nuclear destruction of Chicago
would affect them on their farm near State Road 2, just south of Crown Point,
Indiana. The Robbins received most of their news from cable, with channels
broadcast from South Bend and Lafayette. For several days after The Day they
were able to receive television signals, that is, until their electric power
finally went off. The diesel powered generators at the television stations
didn’t help the Robbins any once they lost electricity at the farm.
Dorothy had nagged Harlan for some time to buy a generator, but he never quite
got around to it.

              
During
the time that the Robbins were still able to watch the news they learned that
Chicago’s nuke had been particularly devastating, one commentator
guessing it as large as 50 kilotons. They saw helicopter footage of a totally
destroyed downtown Chicago extending out past the Dan Ryan Expressway. Casualty
estimates for Chicago alone were in the millions. The Robbins could hardly say
a word most of the afternoon once they saw the horrific video on the noon news.
Within 48 hours of the detonation, the Robbins knew from the newscasts which
they could still receive that the winds which normally blew from the
northwest,
had not changed their course. The fallout from
what used to be Chicago was nearing their part of northwest Indiana. The next
morning Harlan decided that they needed to make plans.

              
"Dot,
we’re only about forty-five miles from Chicago. Interstate 65 is just
four miles
east of us. Even though
downtown Chicago is gone, there are still several million people around Chicago
who must have lived, who knows how many? Those folks will eventually run out
food. No food grower will want to try and ship their harvested crops into a
nuclear zone. There’d be no assurance they could be paid, plus
they’ll want to save their crops for themselves and their
neighbors."

              
"Honey,
doesn’t that mean that once they run out of food that they’ll start
moving towards where the food is grown? Towards the farms in Wisconsin, and
Illinois, and of course south,
right here
into Indiana?"

              
"Yup,
Dot, that’s what I’ve been thinking. I’ve been doing a fair
amount of praying and asking for wisdom."

              
"Me
too, dear, but I had to confess my anger when I realized when I started praying
that our shepherds, all those preachers we watch on TV, let us down. We
don’t
have seminary degrees, that’s
for
sure, but we agreed years ago that those verses about Babylon, the reborn
Babylon, or whatever the exact name is,
has
to be
the United States.
Couldn’t be anyone else.
But, we never heard any of our favorite TV preachers say anything about America
facing the destruction that the Bible said would hit the new Babylon.
Never
.
Why not?"

              
Harlan
responded, "I don’t even recall anyone preaching about how God has
been sending natural disasters to get our attention.
Earthquakes,
hurricanes, forest fires, floods, tornadoes, drought, worse than we’ve
ever
experienced before.
What
were they thinking?
Why didn’t they
warn us?"

              
"Once
I got my anger confessed, I remembered what that fellow said that they
interviewed from the South Bend Hospital on the news. He said that if we are in
the fallout area, where the radiation from Chicago lands, that we will
only have a few weeks or maybe months
to
live. The black rain he said would fall on us could start tonight, based on
what the sky looks like. Honey, it’s quite likely that we won’t be
alive very long, we may be with the Lord in just a few weeks."

              
Harlan
scratched his head, looked at his wife and then said, "Dot, sweetie, we
will
be in heaven soon. Think about it.
We’re in the fallout pattern, so give or take a few
weeks,
we’re dead from radiation poisoning. But, I’ve been thinking and
praying about it. I think we will be gone
well
before
the radiation takes us."

              
"You
mean the
mobs
that will come out of
the Chicago suburbs?
The starving people?
I’ve
thought about them, of course. My heart goes out to them. They’ll be
scared, and they’ll all be hungry and….very desperate. But, Harlan,
what are we going to do
when they
come up on our front porch asking….maybe
demanding
….that we give them food?"

              
"The root cellar."

              
"
Hunh
?
The
old root cellar behind the milk house?
We haven’t used that
in years
."

              
"I
know, Dot, but it’s the
only
place that we can hide the food we have left. More important than that, though,
is that there’s enough room in the root cellar for both of us to lie
down, closing and locking the doors. We can scatter straw, and a cow flop or
two on the doors, to hide the cellar from the marauders, once they rampage
through the house and see that there’s
nothing
to eat."

              
"I
see where you’re going. We could leave a few cans and bottles in the
kitchen, to make it look like we just up and left. But, Harlan dear, how long
can we hide in the root cellar? Once the mobs start coming across the farms in
this area, they won’t be content with just a couple of cans of peas,
they’ll pour through the barn, and the machine shed, and maybe even
burn
the house. What are we going
to…
.
"

              
"Dot
honey,
let’s just take a day at a time.
I’ll start moving our canned and dried food into the root cellar.
I’ll nail plastic sheeting on the back side of the doors, since those
doors aren’t waterproof by any means."

              
"Okay.
I’ll start packing the canned and dried foods into boxes. But, you
haven’t said anything about the two shotguns you packed in grease and
buried in the barn after
the geniuses
in DC passed that horrible law making our ownership of firearms illegal?"

              
"I
haven’t forgotten our guns, Dot, but like I said,
let’s take
each day at
a time
."

Indiana State Road 231 (East Joliet Street)

and
South Indiana Street

Crown Point, Indiana

              
Interstate
65 had become a parking lot within hours of the nuking of Chicago. Those living
south of Chicago who saw the mushroom cloud and who recognized what would
happen jumped in their cars, with some food thrown in the trunk along with
their firearms, if they still had them after Congress outlawed gun ownership
under the McAlister Hate Speech and Hate Weapon Act. Some remembered to grab
the family pet, while others didn’t bother, figuring the pet was just
another mouth to feed.

              
The
entry ramps to interstate 80/90 east from Chicago soon filled, as thousands
tried to get on the six lane wide freeway, hoping to make it to the interstate
65 exit, heading south to Merrillville, Crown Point and points south. Motor
vehicle breakdowns and crashes caused by fleeing motorists blocked two of the
I-80/90 east bound lanes, narrowing escape out of the cauldron that Chicago had
become. Within the first 48 hours of The Day over a million persons, men, women
and children, had managed to flee the suburbs of Chicago, fleeing north to
Wisconsin, west into Illinois and southeast to Indiana. Empty gas tanks,
coupled with service stations that quickly exhausted their supplies before the
power went out, resulted in traffic eventually coming to a halt on I-65. The
two lanes south towards Indianapolis were soon blocked by stranded and
abandoned vehicles, denying motorists any chance to drive any further south.

              
Stranded
motorists, their families and pets on the I-65 exit at Crown Point left their
cars, vans and trucks and hiked west along Indiana 231 two miles to Crown
Point. As they trudged along 231, which became East Joliet Street, they were
stopped at its intersection with South Indiana Avenue. Crown Point Police cars
were parked across Joliet Avenue, blocking any further access to the city of
Crown Point, which was just
under
ten blocks further
west. In front of the police cars was an armored SWAT vehicle, provided to the
city by DHS, complete with gun ports along both sides of the dark green
vehicle. The twelve police officers manning the roadblock were dressed in SWAT
uniforms, each holding a firearm.

              
The
roadblock went into place within hours after the Mayor of Crown Point received
a report from the Indiana State Police describing the devastation of the
nation’s third largest city just miles north west of his small city. He
checked his almanac confirming that Chicago had about 2,700,000 residents. If
one third died in the nuking, he calculated that would result in well over a
million and a half people fleeing into the three adjoining states, meaning at
least half a million souls would be heading into northwest Indiana, with many
of those coming into his city. He ordered the Chief of Police into action, who
quickly called up the entire 15 man police force of Crown Point and the
reserves. The majority were assigned to the main entry point from Chicago,
Indiana 231 from I-65.

              
Not
everyone who walked up to the police roadblock at Huron and Indiana Streets
took kindly to being told they couldn’t come into the city. One of the
earliest stranded motorists to approach the roadblock was Chuck, who was tired,
hungry and scared, which was a dangerous combination. He had his wife and two
grumbling teen agers with him. He refused to be waved off by the officer
standing point, who motioned for the approaching refugees to head south down Indiana
Avenue, away from the city. "Sir, you can’t come into the city. The
Mayor’s put
a quarantine
on for the next several
days or weeks or…."

              
"Look,
pal, I used to work for CPD. I know what a police officer can do….and
what you can’t do
. We have
a right
to walk on public roads. We have
a right
to come into your cruddy
little town, so
get….out….of….our….way
.
We’re
real
hungry and
we’re
real
tired,
if you get my meaning
."

              
The
lead officer stepped forward two feet from Chuck’s face, slightly raising
his M4A1 assault rifle. "Now,
sir
,
we don’t want any trouble. So just take your nice family and
head south
, that’s to your left,
down Indiana Avenue. You’ll surely find someone who can help you. The
City doesn’t have any food supplies available for you.
None
.
Now, sir, Indiana Avenue
becomes Grant Street a few blocks south,
then
it turns
into County Road 55. The county road runs down to State Road 2, two, maybe
three miles. There’s a county park not far from there, to the west, where
you could bed down for the night."

              
Chuck’s
face reddened during the point officer’s street directions. He clinched
his fists, trying to decide what to do. He wanted to get into the city because
he knew that he would eventually find food there. He wasn’t nearly as
confident if they were turned away from where people lived close by in
neighboring homes. The point officer carefully watched Chuck’s body
language, prepared to handle him if it came to it. After what seemed like a
long time to both the officer and to Chuck, finally Chuck controlled his anger,
instead pleading, "Sir, if we don’t get some food
soon
, we won’t….like I said,
we’re
real
hungry,
we
haven’t eaten
anything
since we left our home in Pullman, Illinois eight ten hours ago.
Please
….sir….you must have a
family. What would
you
do?"

              
The
point officer studied Chuck, saw that his fists were no longer clenched, and
his normal facial color had returned. He felt for the man, and his family, but
he had his orders. He lowered his gun, stepped a little closer and quietly
said, "Sir, just do I what told you. Go left down Indiana Avenue. Keep
going. Don’t try and turn back west at Center or South Streets. A block
away you’ll run into more roadblocks. The Mayor’s serious.
He’s got folks, with guns, posted to keep people like you out. Keep going
until you get to the cemetery, then head west across the cemetery until you get
to the Wells Street Park. You can bed down there. When you look for food in
town, just take one of your kids. It’ll be less intimidating when you
knock on a door. Ask
real nice
and
you may get fed.
No
threats.
No
clenched fists. If people say no,
just move on.
Got it?"

              
A
tear ran down Chuck’s cheek. "Thank you, I won’t forget you.
God bless you."

              
"It’s
OK. Now, move on.
Now
….I
see
a bunch of folks walking up 231. I can’t send them
all
your direction - lose my job.
They’re
gonna
’ have to head out into the
country and take their chances. Now, scoot. Get. God be with you."

              
Chuck
and his family headed south on Indiana Avenue as fast as they were able.