The Leader
The next morning, no matter how completely the world had turned itself inside out, my routine did not change.
I loosened up in the cold dawn air, and beside me Wolf clumsily copied every movement. I fed him, then the two of us walked the truck stop together while I put my thoughts in order.
I traced the long road since leaving Yellowknife. America's social machinery coming apart by the hour. Last night's broadcast of Texas declaring independence. My head was a knot.
It struck me that natural disasters have a way of hauling humanity's homemade catastrophes along behind them. Maybe this was simply an old instinct waking up in our DNA—thinning the herd so the survivors could spend what little remained more efficiently.
My mind was a mess. We still had to live through our hours.
Before long everyone had gathered in the truck-stop diner for breakfast, and of course the conversation turned to Texas.
"My God, I can't believe they actually declared independence. They're completely out of their minds. What's left now except war?"
Dave's face was tight with worry.
"War? Ha! You think they've got the guts? The feds roll the army down there and those boys'll surrender in a day. What's Texas going to do all by itself? It's a show. Just a show."
Frank shot back with a forced, cynical ease. Gunner chewed his bacon in silence, then spoke.
"No. They mean it. Texans have always been that kind of people."
While the talk went around the table, Mike set down his fork and spoke in a serious voice.
"That's part of it. The Texas state government isn't stupid. They wouldn't go this alone. The fact that they made the announcement means things we don't know about have already been set in motion."
"..."
"Whew. I'm more afraid of a war where people kill people than I am of The Great Winter or any earthquake. From here on, we'll have to watch every single step we take."
A silence settled over the table at his words. Then Frank offered a cautious suggestion.
"So... what does everyone think? This truck stop has its own mercenaries. It seems safe enough. Wouldn't it be better to stay another day, get a little more prepared, figure out which way the world's turning before we move?"
He added, looking out the window.
"Besides, we've come pretty far south. The cold's actually bearable now."
I thought Frank's suggestion made sense. Blindly pushing south wasn't the smart play anymore. And the truth was, we were exhausted. We had been driving from the moment we opened our eyes, and at night it was vehicle maintenance and panic-buying—no rest at all.
So we decided to spend one more day at the Winnemucca truck stop. Better to sit tight, gather intelligence, and watch how things developed than keep drifting down the highway.
The first thing we did was head for the gas station. We were going to work the ten-gallon-a-day limit in our favor—top off today and again tomorrow morning, twenty extra gallons each.
After that, we headed back to the truck-stop store.
Whether it was the aftershock of last night's news, the place was already packed. We split up and launched into a shopping war of our own.
Dave, Frank, and Raven loaded carts with groceries and daily necessities. Mike went after batteries, tools, and other survival gear. Gunner and I concentrated on whiskey, cigarettes, and chocolate—the kind of comfort goods that would become precious barter currency before long.
Then I heard Mike calling from the tool aisle.
"Chan, come over here and help me move this!"
When I got there, his cart was piled high with boxes of yellow cans stamped with a red logo. Great Stuff—multipurpose polyurethane foam spray.
"What are you going to do with all of that?"
I asked. Mike wiped the sweat from his brow, looking thoroughly pleased.
"This stuff is a miracle in a can. Nothing better for reinforcing the insulation on a caravan or a camper. And if we ever settle somewhere and have to throw together an emergency shelter, it'll be even more useful. They happened to have stock, so I cleaned the shelf out."
I marveled at his foresight as I hoisted the heavy boxes onto the cart with him. This, I thought, was what a lifetime as an old soldier bought you.
Once we had filled several carts, everything that would not fit in our individual vehicles went into my trailer.
"Man, Mike. Building this thing out was a stroke of genius. Without it we wouldn't have room to stand."
I said it while shoving the smaller items up into the ceiling cargo net. Sarah looked at the mountain of gear and asked,
"Shouldn't we... put name tags on this stuff? How else are we going to find our own things later?"
"Ah, come on. Start worrying about that now and there's no end to it. Just treat it all as ours and use the hell out of it!"
Dave's booming good humor set everyone laughing.
Once the cargo was sorted, all of us—Raven's family included—crowded into my trailer.
A modest little party took shape: tea, beer, and the snacks we had just bought.
"My God... this place is... it's just a home."
Raven marveled, looking around the interior. Her son Adam could not take his eyes off the CCTV monitors. Frank's wife Sarah smiled and said,
"It's Chan's home, but it's also something like a bunker for all of us. Not long ago, at a farm in Nevada, some gang members..."
"Honey, the kids are right here. Don't talk about that kind of thing."
Frank shot her a look and cut her off quickly. I looked at them and said,
"Sarah's right. If something dangerous happens and you can't run, everyone come here. This is the last fallback."
A heavy silence followed my words, but the warmth returned soon enough.
Dave held forth about the barbecue waiting at his aunt's farm. Liam and Adam launched into an excited conversation about their favorite video games.
In a world that had gone to ruin, we were tasting a small, precious sliver of ease.
Then Mike made a suggestion.
"All right, all right. Let's see what the world's actually doing. Turn on the news."
I nodded and switched on the TV. The coverage of Texas that had started yesterday was still rolling.
The screen showed what looked like helicopter footage. On the highway connecting Texas and Oklahoma, Texas National Guard armored vehicles and state police cruisers had thrown up barricades.
The picture changed. Over footage of the Texas governor standing at a podium, the anchor's voice continued.
In a statement, the Texas state government announced a strict ban on the export of all strategic resources produced within Texas—oil, natural gas, food, and electric power. Any company or individual who violates the ban, regardless of nationality, will be prosecuted for treason.
The word treason put every one of us on edge. The news rolled on.
Simultaneously with the declaration of independence, Texas has seized all federal government assets located within the state. It is understood that they have already secured control of most federal buildings and national parks. The problem is the military installations.
The picture changed again. This time it was a ground-level shot of a standoff ready to explode.
The main gate of a massive military base. On one side, U.S. federal soldiers wearing the Stars and Stripes had their M4s leveled. Directly across from them, National Guard troops flying the Lone Star flag had their weapons trained the same way.
Men who had been soldiers of the same country yesterday were now aiming at each other's hearts.
A tense standoff continues between Texas National Guard units attempting to take control of major federal bases such as Fort Hood and the federal troops trying to stop them. There has been no exchange of fire yet, but a single spark could reduce everything to ash. The situation is, quite literally, walking on thin ice.
It felt as if the sound of a nation splitting in two was coming through the TV speakers and into my ears.
None of us could look away. The anchor's dry voice was broadcasting a national fracture that could no longer be undone.
The screen showed the Texas governor's face stamped with red letters.
In addition, the federal government has immediately halted all federal funds flowing into Texas—disaster relief and Social Security payments alike—blocked financial transactions by Texas-based companies, and initiated a reverse blockade cutting off all external supplies, particularly federally controlled pharmaceuticals and advanced components.
While the news was still running, a breaking-news banner crawled across the bottom of the screen.
A moment later the White House press room appeared, and the President's face filled the frame. His expression was set, his declaration uncompromising.
"The unity of the United States of America is not a subject for negotiation. I appeal now to the patriotic citizens of Texas who, even at this moment, continue to uphold law and order. Resist the illegal agitation of your state government, and come together once more beneath the great flag of the Union."
When the statement ended, a heavy silence filled the trailer. I glanced to the side. The faces of Gunner and Mike—the two former soldiers—were set harder than I had ever seen them.
They knew better than anyone that this was not a political show. It was the opening act of a real war.
Frank was the one who broke the silence.
"So in other words, the Texans are saying they won't share a scrap of those livable southern resources with the rest of us? They dress it up real pretty, but at the end of the day it's just a fight over who gets to eat."
Dave picked up the thread, his voice tight with worry.
"We can't have a war... I can't take my mother through the middle of a battlefield."
Raven held the children's hands and spoke in a low voice.
"So there really isn't a safe place left anywhere."
Then Mike let out a long breath and opened his mouth.
"The die is already cast. Who's right and who's wrong doesn't matter anymore. A second Civil War isn't a question of if. It's a question of when."
He tapped the map with a finger and went on.
"Look. Texas was never going to be alone. Louisiana and Oklahoma are already tied to Texas economically. New Mexico too. Sooner or later they'll throw in with Texas and put together a new Southern Confederacy. And when that happens..."
His finger stopped on Arizona.
"Arizona, where my son is... it's going to become the front line. Federal troops out of California on one side, the Republic of Texas on the other."
The raw fear for his boy was plain in his voice.
Mike seemed to regret having dragged the room so far into the dark. He changed the subject, working to lift the mood.
"All right, all right. No point getting ahead of ourselves. There's nothing we can do about it tonight anyway."
He looked around at all of us.
"We've had our rest. What do you say we roll out first thing in the morning? The sooner we put our wheels on California dirt, the better."
Everyone agreed. The others went back to their own berths, and the trailer was quiet again—just me and Wolf.
I stroked the fur along Wolf's back as he lay at my feet, and I spoke softly.
"...What do we do, Wolf."
He must have felt the weight in my voice. He made a low whimpering sound and licked my hand, as if he understood everything.
Tempe, where Mike's son lived, and the Central Valley, where Dave's aunt's farm waited—on the map those two points were seven hundred and fifty miles apart.
From the beginning, the agreement had been that Mike would travel with us only as far as the Central Valley. His objective was his son. Ours was a safe place to settle.
But the situation had changed.
The Arizona he was heading for was now, quite possibly, about to become a battlefield—the front line of a war that had not yet started and already felt inevitable.
The thought of sending him into that alone sat on my chest like a stone. This was different from leaving Dave behind in Yellowknife.
Mike was one of the crew, and I was the leader. A leader never sends a comrade into the jaws of death alone. But I could not make a choice that put the others in danger either.
Late into the night I sat staring from one point on the map to the other, and the longer I looked the heavier the choice became.