road. I knew this was only a couple of miles outside of Perry. We should be there in the early afternoon, plenty of time to get in and get out.
“Is there anything you need to try and get when we get in town?” I was hoping the answer would be no.
“Well, if they are giving anything out, I’m gonna get whatever I can, especially food. I don’t have any. And water, I only have one little water bottle.” She held up a Zephyrhills water bottle that was about half full. I thought about what she said. At least she was smart enough to know what the priorities were.
“Well, I don’t want to be there long. I want to get in and out as fast as we can. There isn’t anything I really need. I want to put some distance between us and town before it gets too dark to find a place to sleep.”
“Yeah, they won’t let us stay in town anyway, and there will probably be a bunch of people hitting the road when they start telling them to leave.” She made a point I hadn’t considered.
“When did they tell you guys that they wouldn’t let you stay in town?” I asked.
“This morning, Luke’s dad started saying they should march on the town. He’s a freakin’ idiot.”
We walked along for a few more hours, not really saying much. The terrain had changed little since we passed the mill, except there were more houses and more people. The closer we got, the more there was. I wouldn’t call it urban, far from it, but compared to what we had walked through, it was like the big city. I glassed the road ahead.
“Looks like we should be in town soon. I think I can see the roadblock up ahead.” I nodded up the road.
“Yeah, it’ll be interesting to see what happens when we get there,” Jessica said.
After another fifteen or twenty minutes, we approached the roadblock. It was located at Main Street and Highway 19 and was exactly what you would expect. They had a bunch of cars pushed out into the road. They had them set up so you had to walk through a kind of gauntlet; it wasn’t a straight shot through. At each of the places that made a ninety-degree turn, the barricade was two cars deep. You weren’t just going to crash through here even if you could find a vehicle to try it with.
The roadblock was manned by an assortment of police and what would come to be known as militia. The weapons were as assorted as you might think, everything from deer rifles and shotguns to the occasional battle rifle. Whoever set these guys up, though, had some tactical experience. Those with shotguns were along the edge of the gauntlet. They had defined fields of fire and were staggered throughout the maze. There was one guy with a scoped rifle and another with a battle rifle at the entrance. There were others with scoped rifles on the backside of the barricade, along with a couple of battle rifles. To the rear of the barricade was on old Chevron station; it was closed down, but the garage doors had been opened up. A couple of old trucks and a few ATVs were parked under the gas pump awning. Milling about was what appeared to be the reaction force—about ten men just hanging out, all armed.
As we approached the roadblock, I got a surprise. “Hey, Dale,” Jessica called out.
“Hey, Jess.” It was one of the Perry cops. “You decided to try and get home?”
“Yeah, I had to get the hell out of there. Dale, this is Morgan.” She did a quick introduction.
I stuck out my hand, and the officer shook it. “Morgan Carter,” I said.
“Dale Chattam,” he replied. “I know where Jess is going. Where you headed, Morgan?” He was casual and at ease, but I don’t want to give out too much info.
“Down near Orlando, long ways,” I said with a smile.
“Yeah, that’s a hell of a walk. Jess, you guys need anything?” He had turned his attention back to her.
“We could use some food, and I need a water bottle—something that will get me home.” She was holding the bottle by the cap, swishing it back and forth.
“I think I can help
“Is there anything you need to try and get when we get in town?” I was hoping the answer would be no.
“Well, if they are giving anything out, I’m gonna get whatever I can, especially food. I don’t have any. And water, I only have one little water bottle.” She held up a Zephyrhills water bottle that was about half full. I thought about what she said. At least she was smart enough to know what the priorities were.
“Well, I don’t want to be there long. I want to get in and out as fast as we can. There isn’t anything I really need. I want to put some distance between us and town before it gets too dark to find a place to sleep.”
“Yeah, they won’t let us stay in town anyway, and there will probably be a bunch of people hitting the road when they start telling them to leave.” She made a point I hadn’t considered.
“When did they tell you guys that they wouldn’t let you stay in town?” I asked.
“This morning, Luke’s dad started saying they should march on the town. He’s a freakin’ idiot.”
We walked along for a few more hours, not really saying much. The terrain had changed little since we passed the mill, except there were more houses and more people. The closer we got, the more there was. I wouldn’t call it urban, far from it, but compared to what we had walked through, it was like the big city. I glassed the road ahead.
“Looks like we should be in town soon. I think I can see the roadblock up ahead.” I nodded up the road.
“Yeah, it’ll be interesting to see what happens when we get there,” Jessica said.
After another fifteen or twenty minutes, we approached the roadblock. It was located at Main Street and Highway 19 and was exactly what you would expect. They had a bunch of cars pushed out into the road. They had them set up so you had to walk through a kind of gauntlet; it wasn’t a straight shot through. At each of the places that made a ninety-degree turn, the barricade was two cars deep. You weren’t just going to crash through here even if you could find a vehicle to try it with.
The roadblock was manned by an assortment of police and what would come to be known as militia. The weapons were as assorted as you might think, everything from deer rifles and shotguns to the occasional battle rifle. Whoever set these guys up, though, had some tactical experience. Those with shotguns were along the edge of the gauntlet. They had defined fields of fire and were staggered throughout the maze. There was one guy with a scoped rifle and another with a battle rifle at the entrance. There were others with scoped rifles on the backside of the barricade, along with a couple of battle rifles. To the rear of the barricade was on old Chevron station; it was closed down, but the garage doors had been opened up. A couple of old trucks and a few ATVs were parked under the gas pump awning. Milling about was what appeared to be the reaction force—about ten men just hanging out, all armed.
As we approached the roadblock, I got a surprise. “Hey, Dale,” Jessica called out.
“Hey, Jess.” It was one of the Perry cops. “You decided to try and get home?”
“Yeah, I had to get the hell out of there. Dale, this is Morgan.” She did a quick introduction.
I stuck out my hand, and the officer shook it. “Morgan Carter,” I said.
“Dale Chattam,” he replied. “I know where Jess is going. Where you headed, Morgan?” He was casual and at ease, but I don’t want to give out too much info.
“Down near Orlando, long ways,” I said with a smile.
“Yeah, that’s a hell of a walk. Jess, you guys need anything?” He had turned his attention back to her.
“We could use some food, and I need a water bottle—something that will get me home.” She was holding the bottle by the cap, swishing it back and forth.
“I think I can help
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