The guard, in defiance of Joshua, reached to grab Malorie’s left breast but had not accounted for the S&W revolver in her right hand. In a split second she had the muzzle of the revolver painfully buried in his copious double-chin fat. She said, “On your knees, punk!” His delayed reaction exceeded Malorie’s patience so she kneed him in the groin. When he doubled over she grabbed the back of his collar and used his weight against him by simply pivoting and letting his inertia take him down to a fetal position, where he grabbed himself, screaming in pain.

Joshua shouted out, “Like I said, we don’t want any trouble and you can avoid a lot of bloodshed by not getting stupid here like your friend.”

The former linebacker yelled a vulgar insult. Malorie’s only response was to pistol-whip him on top of the head, giving him something else to be concerned with other than his hurt pride.

The other guards caught on that Malorie was no one’s plaything and acknowledged that they didn’t want any trouble. Joshua got in the Jeep and pulled up to where Malorie stood. Megan timed opening the passenger door just as the Jeep passed her sister so that she could get in and they could drive off quickly.

“Are you okay?” Megan asked as she hugged her and the headrest at the same time.

Joshua was in third gear and accelerating past the park heading south on 37. Malorie was out of breath as she answered, “I’m fine, but it’ll be a while before he lives that one down.”

19

LPCS

Individuals receive, but they cannot send. They absorb, but they cannot share. They hear, but they do not speak. They see constant motion, but they do not move themselves. The “well-informed citizenry” is in danger of becoming the “well-amused audience.”

—Al Gore, The Assault on Reason

Fort Gay, West Virginia—October, the First Year

The sky was a definite orange blaze now, and everyone was just glad that Malorie had gotten away relatively unscathed. Malorie looked at the map. “It seems like we should be getting to Fort Gay, West Virginia, at daybreak. That’ll be where we cross over into Kentucky. From there it would only appear to be about 120 miles or so to Bradfordsville.”

Megan stirred from the backseat and said, “Well, at this rate we could be there tonight perhaps?”

“If we can maintain this rate, then yes—but there’s a lot to that ‘if,’” replied Joshua.

The Jeep descended the small hill to the checkpoint at Fort Gay. The personnel at the checkpoint were mostly uniformed law enforcement, and Megan pointed out that there was one West Virginia State Police car parked off to the side. “The presence of cops must be good. I never want to go through a checkpoint like that last one again,” Megan said.

Joshua said, “Without getting all Terminator on you four here, ‘I’ll be back!’”

Megan quipped, “Get to zee choppahr!” getting a laugh out of the boys while Joshua just rolled his eyes.

Joshua alighted from the Jeep and kept his coat unzipped and laced his hands behind his head as he approached his law enforcement brethren. He hoped that they’d notice his embroidered badge on his coat. The temperature had dropped significantly, and he was regretting not grabbing his gloves from the Jeep.

As Joshua approached he said, “Good morning. We’re seeking to cross over into Kentucky to go see my . . .”

The local policeman on duty cut him off and said, “Ain’t no one driving over into Kentucky anymore.” The young cop seemed irritated from having to stay up too long on checkpoint duty. “The honorable governor of Kentucky has seen fit to block all motor traffic into or out of his state as of midnight last night, right about the time we lost utility power in town. They have two semis from the local Coca-Cola bottling plant in Louisa blocking the bridge and a Kentucky National Guard HMMWV with a fifty-cal, to make the point clear.”

Joshua said, “Thank you, brother, I didn’t know that. What about foot traffic?”

“Well, I would highly recommend that you not swim across to Kentucky right now. The temperature has dropped overnight and we’re supposed to get a bunch of snow here in the next day or three. The Farmer’s Almanac is predicting an early winter, too.” Joshua nodded. He noticed that the cop seemed less irritated now and relaxed his arms. “As far as we know, people are still getting over on foot. Rumor has it there is a refugee camp starting up over at the Yatesville Lake State Park just west of Louisa, but I can’t say what the conditions there would be like. You sure are a long way from Maryland; why aren’t you with your force back there? Does that say ‘NSA’ on your service coat?”

“Long story, but we have a pressing need to get to my brother’s house near Danville, Kentucky.”

The cop nodded indifferently; he’d probably heard every sad story that there was to hear, and the Crunch had just begun. “Well, ain’t none of my affair anyways. Danville, that’s a good piece from here, ’specially on foot. Do you have little ones with you?”

“Two women and two children, plus me. Are we allowed to go into town to try to get supplies?” Joshua was trying to hide the panic in his voice over their lack of options.

“Maryland plates, huh? I suppose you have a Maryland driver’s license, too? Does anyone with you have West Virginia identification on them?”

Joshua breathed deeply and said, “Both my fiancée and her sister do.”

“I’ll take your word for it, since you’re a cop and all. But remember this, Fort Gay is a dead end—you can’t go any farther in your vehicle. Y’all shouldn’t bother going to the police station down by the river, either, to plead your case. They’re turning folks away. As you probably know, if you made it this far, Charleston is up in flames and the governor of West Virginia is not going to take the time to hear from the Fort Gay mayor about how he should contact the governor of Kentucky on your behalf.”

Joshua knew the drill and asked in a joking tone, “Someone already tried that?”

“Just as sure as I’m standing here.” The cop cleared his throat and went on. “Any kind of supplies that you need are likely going to be sold out at the sports store—I would check the pawnshops.”

Joshua said, “Thanks, brother,” and turned around and walked to the Jeep.

A quick vote was taken on whether to go into Fort Gay. They decided that they had to get whatever supplies they could find and head west, especially with the bad weather approaching. The Jeep crossed through its last checkpoint and Joshua pulled into town, looking at the sign on the door of the diner, which read CLOSED. Ever the entrepreneurs, the local Boy Scout troop had a propane griddle set up in a parking lot between the auto parts store and the local feed store with a sign that read PANCAKES, ALL YOU CAN EAT $12.

“Twelve dollars seems wicked steep, but who knows when we’re going to see hot food again in Kentucky,” Malorie said.

“Okay, I’m open for ideas here, but hear me out first,” Joshua began. He switched off the ignition and turned to look at both Megan and Malorie. “We’re on foot from here on out, no doubt about it. I don’t think that anyone is going to sell us a vehicle in Kentucky, gas will be wicked expensive or unobtainable, winter is supposedly coming soon, and we are due to get snow. The cop at the checkpoint said that there’s a refugee camp over on the west side of Louisa in some park. I don’t know about you, but I’m not keen on going there. I think it’ll be a crime magnet where either of you or one of the boys could get abducted.”

Megan was past overtired. “True, it could get positively Grapes of Wrath over there. We can’t enter a situation where we’re trapped and where one of us is separated from the group. We’re simply too small a force to defend ourselves. And knowing the history of such camps, they’ll probably disarm everyone coming in. Our primary mission is to stay warm, dry, and unseen. I don’t think we’ll be able to make much progress through the winter. If we find a place to stay overnight and then move westward only to find that there’s nowhere for us to stay, then we’d be highly reluctant to backtrack to our previous camp.”