The World's End Series Book One: Dymond's World (2 page)

"My God, Hoppie, they have more video from the riot.  Did you see it?"

Hoppie Ingram was in the bathroom, getting ready for her date, but the door was open.  "What riot?"

Sarabeth Hepburn sighed.  Her best friend and roommate was clueless about any event that didn't directly affect her - especially if they weren't covered on Comedy Central.  "The riot in Cleveland that happened this morning.  You know, the old lady was killed and they almost destroyed a whole neighborhood."

There was no answer.  When Hoppie was putting on eye makeup, she had to concentrate.

The images were disturbing, the announcer's words chilling: "CNN has learned that a website dedicated to motorcycle clubs is telling them to meet at the scene to stage what they call a 'thunder protest.'  This is where hundreds of motorcyclists drive a route, revving their engines to create a loud roar.  The authorities are pleading for calm and are pledging that no motorcycle gangs will be allowed into the area.  Meanwhile, a spokesman for Homeland Security warned today that MS-13 . . ."

Hoppie touched the mute button on the remote that had been on the coffee table.  Sarabeth shot her a glance.  "How do I look?"

It would do no good to complain about Hoppie taking over the TV - she was paying for their apartment, after all.  "You look great, but I wish you wouldn't go."

In fact, Sarabeth didn't think her friend looked all that good.  Her dress was a bit too short, her heels a bit too high, her neckline a bit too low, her makeup a bit too much.  She looked a bit like a streetwalker.

Sarabeth had a sudden vision of the two of them as ten year olds.  They were the best of BFFs even then.  They had sleepovers and talked about boys and went to the mall.  The future never seemed in doubt.  She remembered thinking of the future as "the real world."  It seemed so far away.

But now they were living in it.  College wasn't quite the full and complete "real world," but it was close enough.  Hoppie frowned at her friend’s suggestion that she not go out.  It was the same thing she almost always did.  "Now don't start with that stuff again.  A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do."

It was her pat answer to everything she didn't want to discuss.  Hoppie walked into the kitchen and returned with an envelope.  It was from the bursar's office and it had been opened.  "This came for you today.  You owe another four thousand.  How much is that now, over twenty, isn't it? And we're just starting our junior year."

Hoppie sat on the couch beside Sarabeth as she looked at the bill.  She put her arm around her shoulders and spoke softly, "I talked to Ben.  He'd be glad to have you . . ."

Sarabeth pulled away, "No, Hop, No!"

Hoppie rose, shaking her head.  "You know what the hard part of being a Sugar Baby is?  It's finding the right Sugar Daddy; finding one that is safe and that you actually like.  Finding one who will give you your allowance on time.  That's the hard part.

"It took me four tries to find the right guy.  Ben is sweet.  He treats me like we're really on a date.  He always asks if he can touch me before he does.  He's a good lover too.  It's not like work or anything - the sex is actually good.

"And at two thousand a month for a twice a week date, you’d be able to pay all your tuition bills before graduation.  You've still got time, SeeBee.  Come on, get dressed and I'll introduce you.

"And besides, I walked in on you and that Kevin guy just last week.  I can't believe you'll give it away for free when there's good money to be made.  Remember, a girl's got to do . . ."

Sarabeth interrupted her, "What a girl's got to do.  Yeah, I know.  Listen Hoppie, I'm not judging you or anything.  It's just that . . . it's not for me, okay?  I know it would bug me to think about it when I'm older and maybe married with a kid or two.  I think it would weigh on my mind, you know?"

She reached for the remote.  "And just so you know, Ms. Nosey, I didn't give it away to Kevin.  I made him a bit sticky, but that's all."

Hoppie chuckled, "Okay, SeeBee, I'll see you in the morning.  Let's go for a run before class."

"Sounds like a date," said Sarabeth as she pressed the unmute button on the remote.

***

The next morning, Hoppie appeared right on time.  Her Sugar Daddy always called her a cab. 
How thoughtful.

As they got dressed for their run, Hoppie made it a point to remove a stack of bills from her Louis Vuitton wallet.  She laid them on the counter so that Sarabeth couldn't miss them.  Ben had paid her "allowance" on time as usual.  He'd also given her the wallet, of course.

Hoppie smiled sweetly at Sarabeth but didn't say anything.  She could be a real bitch sometimes.

Just as they were ready to leave, they shared the mirror to do their final inspection.  They felt as close as sisters, but they didn't look like each other.  Hoppie had short black hair and beautiful eyes that every man noticed about her.  Sarabeth had long blonde hair and was pretty, but men mostly first noticed her chest.  They both were about the same height so they could often share each other's clothes.  Today, both wore tank tops and running shorts.  Both had small butt packs for their IDs, keys and money.

Sarabeth was satisfied at her reflection and turned to leave.  "Forget something?" Hoppie said.

She was holding two pink rape whistles.  They had both been to multiple meetings on campus where they were warned to wear them practically twenty four hours a day.  Sarabeth was skeptical that a pink whistle would be all that effective against a rapist, but Hoppie believed in their power without reservation.

"Two more women were molested last week.  It's freaking getting totally out of hand."

Sarabeth kept up with the news on and off campus and she hadn't seen any such reports, but she sighed and put hers on.  It couldn't hurt.

***

If she was ever going to blow her rape whistle, she thought it would probably be in the long block between their apartment and the campus.  The neighborhood was full of college students, but since the rents were relatively cheap and the housing plain at best, there were others who lived here too.  Some of them looked kind of sinister and English was certainly not the predominant language she heard on the street.  Sarabeth felt a hint of shame at thinking such thoughts.  None of these people had ever threatened her and here she was judging them because of how they dressed and spoke.

Hoppie took the lead and set a fast pace.  It was her custom to run fast until they passed the safety of the campus entrance.  Sarabeth studied her friend as she took long, easy strides.  It was so like her to jump out to the lead.  It was how she got her nickname.  When they were kids, Hoppie was always the fearless one.  They spent many summer days at their community pool; and while Sarabeth would take ten minutes to work up the courage to gingerly jump from the end of the diving board, Hoppie would instantly run and leap into the air and do a perfect cannonball.  Her mother said she "hopped" when most people would hesitate.  She loved her nickname, "It's so neat and anything is better than Emily," she'd said.  They'd visited the pool again over their summer break - the diving boards were gone.  "Too dangerous," was what they were told.

As they neared the campus entrance, Sarabeth felt herself being watched by the guard.  As usual, he was standing beside his official cop car with its modern thin lights on top and its array of small antennas in the back.  "Morning ladies," he said as they passed.

Both of them mouthed something that sounded like "Morning" back to him.  He was wearing a gun and that was intimidating.  When they'd first come here, the entrances weren't even guarded, but things had changed in the last two years.  There had been incidents at other schools, and now most colleges had very visible security.  They must have been busy because the campus was full of posters asking students to report threatening and aggressive speech.

Soon, they were running on the tree lined street that passed by the library and science building.  It was a beautiful day.  There were some other joggers around, as well as students walking to early classes.  A girl was asleep on the grass in front of the library.  Sarabeth was thankful for the beautiful and peaceful surroundings.  She caught up with Hoppie and they ran side by side.

"Wake up Zack, it's bug out time."

Eight year old Zack Hammel sat up and rubbed his eyes.  He had been dreaming that he was playing baseball with his friends at school.  "Mom, do we have to?"  His voice had a whine in it.

"You know we do, sleepy head.  Now come on, shake a leg."  Mary Hammel smiled and held out her hand.  He took it and slid to the floor.

"Is Zoe up yet?" he asked, staring out the open door into the hallway.

"I don't think so.  Your Dad's waking her, but you know how she is."

Zack dropped her hand and flew out of the room.  If he didn't get to the bathroom first, he'd have to wait for three year old Zoe.  "Girls take forever," he'd complained many times.

"Make it quick!" she called after him.  They had to be gone in fifteen minutes.

They were dressed, outside and ready to go in ten.

Victor Hammel looked them over before climbing behind the wheel of their Kawasaki Mule four wheel drive utility vehicle.  It was set up with two bench seats so the kids had plenty of room.  In the back, their bug out bags were stowed, bulging with enough supplies to last them for three days.  He checked to make sure they hadn't been opened since their last bug out -- with any luck, they would never be used, but you had to be ready, just in case.

He looked towards the house.  It was locked and the loud alarm was set.  His Dodge Ram pickup and Mary's Golf were locked in the barn, out of sight.  It had an alarm too.

He slid into the driver's seat of the Mule.  At six two, it was a bit of a tight fit, but he was used to it as he'd spent many hours hauling supplies up to their bug out cabin.  "Everyone ready?  Think now, did we forget anything?"

Zoe hugged her blanket close.  It was all she needed to remember.  Mary smiled at her and then transferred her smile to Vic.

***

The problem with bugging out was that your bug out place had to be somewhere else other than your home.  Normally, that meant you had to drive to it.  If you lived in the city, you might have to drive quite a long distance.  A prepper who lived near New York would have to be able to get to Vermont or the Poconos or somewhere with less population.  It was quite a problem because there were many SHTF scenarios where the highways would be clogged with fleeing or dying people.

When Victor left the army, he solved that problem by buying a house just south of Arlee, Montana.  It was in a secluded location, about a quarter mile off the paved US 93 highway.  The only flat part of their land was where the house and barn had been built.  The rest was mountain.

He put the Mule in gear and drove out of his back yard and into the woods.

Almost immediately upon entering the woods, it looked like the trail was blocked by two tall trees that had fallen beside a large boulder.  It was impossible to avoid having a visible trail after having driven the Mule up here dozens of times, but that didn't mean the trail had to be obvious.

He continued driving towards the boulder.  The trail was quite steep at this point - probably at least fifteen degrees.  Victor figured that anyone who was curious about the trail would give up.  Few people wanted to walk up steep grades and no vehicle short of a tank could get over those trees and that large rock.

He slowed as he approached what appeared to be the end of the trail.  From close up, he could see the small space between the downed trees and the boulder.  It was just big enough for the Mule.  He turned sharply right, continuing slowly behind the rock.  If anyone had been watching, it would look like the Mule had disappeared.

Hidden by the forest, he continued downhill to the end of the fallen tree and then turned left to continue uphill.  The overall route was just over a mile with a rise of almost four hundred feet.

With the stream crossings and switchbacks, it took almost fifteen minutes to cover that mile.  As they approached the cabin, the ground leveled.  The top of the small mountain was so rounded as to be close to flat, but it was still covered by forest.

Victor surveyed the area carefully.  It was highly unlikely anyone would make a long uphill hike and stumble upon their cabin, but he always left a few "tells" that would indicate if they'd had a visitor.  One was the horseshoe that was loosely nailed above the door - if it was opened, the horseshoe would spin so that it was upside down.

Today everything was in order.  "I've got a surprise for you," Victor said as he brought the Mule to a stop.  He looked at Mary and smiled.  The kids waited until he told them it was okay to leave the vehicle.  "Let's go," he said.  In two seconds, Zack and Zoe were running towards the porch.  "Wait for us!  The surprise is for all of you, but mostly for your Mom."

Vic took Mary’s hand and led her to the porch and opened the door.  It wasn't locked - there was no reason to lock a secluded cabin.  If someone wanted to enter they could simply break the glass in a window.

The cabin had grown over the last four years.  Initially, it was a single open area with a sleeping loft, built around a large stone fireplace.  But gradually Victor had expanded it until it was almost eight hundred square feet.  Their bedroom was a corner area separated by a couple of folding room dividers.  The kids kept the loft.

Today, there was another room that had appeared.  What had formally been an empty corner now had actual permanent walls that made it into a room.  There was a door.

He led her to the door, "Go ahead, Mary.  Open it."

She obviously had no idea what to expect.  She slowly opened the door.  The kids crowded in to see.

Before them was something totally unexpected.  There was a toilet.  A real honest-to-God, porcelain crapper.  Beside it was a sink and, in the corner, a small enclosed shower.

Mary didn't mind their occasional bug out dress rehearsals; and she didn't mind roughing it in the woods - they had everything they needed up here anyway.

But she hated using the outhouse.  As outhouses go, it was a nice one, but it was still a seat over a hole.  There were still insects that got in.  The bag of lime and scoop kept the smells at bay, but she swore she could still smell them.

"Vic, it's wonderful!  I can't believe it!  How did you . . ."

"I tapped into a spring a bit uphill.  As long as it's putting out water, we'll have some running down here.  Another pipe connects to the outhouse for the . . . ah . . . output."

"Yew!" said Zack as he wrinkled his nose.

"I want to go potty," said Zoe.

***

Later, Victor sat on the porch and watched the kids play in the tree house he'd built.  It was one of their favorite things, but it was also at just the right position to allow him to see their home, down in the valley below.  He could also see a few of the places where the trail switched back on itself.  In the distance, a stretch of highway 93 was visible.  He could see it quite well if he used binoculars.  Today, when he'd checked to make sure the structure was safe for the kids, there had been a group of motorcycles passing by.

He had his portable AOR 8200 radio and was checking reception.  He had a hundred fifty foot wire antenna strung through the trees.  Even though it was still morning, he easily received stations in Spokane and Billings.  He tried a station in Calgary; it was there, but almost too weak to copy.  It would boom in after sunset.

He settled on a station in Salt Lake City.  The news was on.

"Sporadic trading halts continue on the New York Stock Exchange.  A spokesman says that the problems are 'technical' and not the result of a terrorist attack.

"The President today traveled to make a speech at the University of Wisconsin at Madison.  In it, he defended his policy of resettlement.  When asked if the country could afford to take another five million poor people, he stated that the 'USA has the strength, and yes the generosity, to do whatever we want in this regard.'  He added, 'These new Americans will simply make us stronger.'  A group of several hundred protesters were kept well away from the event.

"The investigation into the riots caused by an elderly woman in Cleveland took a new turn today as investigators learned that the driver, Miss Ellen Richardson, may have had contacts with people involved in the white supremacist movement.  Department of Justice spokesperson, Cloe Sisborne, stated that they 'were making sure all leads were followed as we try to understand this senseless tragedy.  We have Miss Richardson's computers and phones and they are being analyzed.'  Reports of bikers groups converging on the scene remain unconfirmed.

"Now in sports, the USA women's soccer team was dealt a . . ."

Mary sat beside him and he turned off the radio.

"Another day of happy news," she said as she reached for his hand.  "It's getting worse, isn't it, Vic."

"Yeah, I think so.  You know old man Jennings, right?  He lives down near Missoula."

She nodded her agreement.  "Yesterday, I fixed his old Chevy.  Fuel pump went bad, it would hardly run.  I knew he was living on social security so I just charged him for the parts. He drove away happy as a clam and then came speeding back, spitting mad.  He screamed that I'd broken his radio - all it would get was static.

"It was just that it had lost its programming when I had to disconnect the battery.  I helped him lock in the stations.  He told me he was ashamed at how he acted. 'I don't know what came over me, Vic.  It just seems like there's pressure, you know?  Pressure everywhere, like things are gonna explode. I didn't mean to yell at you.  I guess I'm just a crazy old fool.  I don't think I'll mind leaving this world when the time comes.'

"I told him everything was fine and that he shouldn't talk such nonsense.  He left happy, but I know what he meant about the pressure.  I think we all feel it."

Mary squeezed his hand.  "I know what you mean.  I see it just about every day in the schools - kids getting in fights, not learning, teachers unhappy. The math teacher, Lis Truijillo, came to me the other day and asked for a refill on her prescription - Doc Smith is away and I'm watching out for his patients.

"Anyway, he's got her on Xanax.  She told me her marriage was on the rocks and the kids were almost too much for her to handle.  She said 'They won't listen, Mary.  They don't even care.'  She started to cry right there in my little office. I think the tears helped more than the drugs."

"Did you give her the refill?"

"Yes, I'm just a physician's assistant.  If Doc Smith prescribed them, I'm expected to continue his treatment plan."

They sat in silence for several seconds.  Mary moved closer to Victor and kissed him.  She whispered in his ear, "I'm so glad we've got this place."

Zoe appeared and leapt into her mom's lap.  "Me too!" she squealed. "Kiss!"