Forced Conscription

I had thought all we needed to do was keep heading south. The road to Mexico was a lost cause now, and the entire southern half of the country was about to become a battlefield.

Faced with the desperate looks in my companions' eyes, I couldn't find a single word to give them.

How the hell would I know?

I repeated it to myself, but Dave's dazed expression and every pair of eyes in the living room had turned toward me as if by some unspoken agreement. Those eyes, hungry for hope, for an answer.

For a moment, they overlapped with the faces of civilians who had gathered in some rear-area outpost in Afghanistan. That place had been dozens of kilometers from the front lines, but the mortar rounds that could drop at any moment, the IEDs waiting on the roads, the fear of a traitor in your own ranks — the chaos and the anxiety there had been no less than at the line itself.

There was no such thing as a safe place. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Only places that were less dangerous.

If I didn't say something — anything — the fear would spread through the room like a contagion. I didn't have a clear answer, but I gathered my voice and spoke with as much gravity as I could, following whatever came to me in the moment.

"We'll have to find a third zone."

"A third zone? So you've actually got a plan?"

Dave shot back.

I'd just thrown the words out. There was no such thing, not in a mess like this. I kept talking, letting the thought take shape as I went.

"Well... Dave."

"Yeah."

"The Great Winter isn't a disaster we can run from anymore. It's just the new environment we have to live with."

"I know that. But now there's a war about to break out on top of it."

"The problem is that this new environment has nature and humanity colliding with each other at full force. The Great Winter, the earthquakes, the war. That's the collision."

"So what you're saying is we're stuck right in the middle of it. Surrounded."

Dave's voice rose.

"The boundary between those forces is going to be our way out."

"The boundary?"

"The Great Winter is here, but the cold air from the north and the cold air from the south are going to meet eventually. Maybe that's exactly where we are right now."

"..."

"And America itself — the northern forces and the southern forces are going to meet, too. The west is sitting on the threat of a massive earthquake."

"So?"

"If a wave too big to handle comes rolling in, you ride it a beat early."

"Ride the wave?"

"Like a surfer. We'll slide east along the boundary that wave creates, surfing it as we go."

I looked down at the map spread across the table. I pointed to a place that caught my eye, then drew a long line with my finger across the middle of the continent.

Everyone's eyes followed my finger. Jake asked, looking puzzled.

"You mean the highway that cuts east to west across the middle of the continent?"

"That's the one."

"We're going to... cross the continent sideways? In the middle of all this?"

Dave asked, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Right now, every force in play is colliding north against south. The cold and the war are squeezing us from both directions. The west is blocked by earthquake risk and the Pacific. So the only way we can be pushed is east."

Doubt, fear, regret, and hope all crossed their faces. I kept going.

"We'll stockpile everything we can here, of course. But if the cost of holding this place outweighs what we gain by getting out, we move. We bypass Texas and head southeast."

"So... the destination could end up being somewhere like Miami?"

Frank asked, half in disbelief. I nodded and continued.

"It could be."

"Jesus... that's at least three thousand miles. How the hell are we supposed to do that?"

Dave said, stunned. I put a hand on his shoulder, speaking as if to reassure him.

"Dave, we already punched through a continent. From Yellowknife, Canada, all the way down here to California."

I looked out at the darkness beyond the window and added,

"And that road... it'll probably be a warmer one than the road we've already traveled."

"..."

"This is only if we're forced to abandon this farm and leave. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠We don't need to worry about it now. Right now, this is time to enjoy the peace we fought for."

Sarah answered with a gentle smile.

"We'll follow whatever you decide, Chan."

Raven nodded as well.

"She's right. You're the one who got us this far."

Then Eleanor, Dave's mother, who had been listening quietly, looked around at everyone. Her voice carried the deep trust of someone who had lived a long time.

When she finished, Wolf, who had been lying quietly in the corner of the living room, stood up as if he'd understood every word and let out a single low, firm bark.

"Woo-woof!"

Sarah burst out laughing at the sight

"Oh my, even Wolf thinks she's right!"

That one remark melted the heavy tension that had been pressing down on the living room, and somehow, warm smiles bloomed on every face. The world was still falling apart, but the simple fact that they could lean on each other seemed to dull the fear like an anesthetic.

Back in the trailer, I gave Wolf a treat and stood in front of the map again. I started replaying the conversation from the living room, piece by piece.

My friends had talked as if I'd had some special plan all along, but the truth was I'd made it up on the spot.

Now that I've said it out loud, it actually sounds pretty convincing.

If the Great Winter stacked with war or a massive earthquake, every road heading south would turn into a giant parking lot of millions of refugees. That much was obvious. Arizona, where Mike's son was, looked like it was about to become a land of pure chaos.

In the end, the words I'd thrown out without thinking were the only real answer.

I traced US Route 50 across the map with my finger. Across the deserts of Nevada, the salt flats of Utah, over the rugged Rocky Mountains of Colorado, through the endless plains of Kansas and Missouri. Then my eyes traveled farther east.

Alabama, Georgia — the latitude there was about the same as northern Mexico, and Miami, Florida, might even be a better environment than Mexico itself.

But Miami would be the last stop for every refugee pouring in from the East.

I folded the map. East, for now. Getting out of that massive current of chaos came first. Everything after that could wait until we got there.

I ended the day with Wolf. As I stroked his warm back, a thought slipped out of me before I knew it.

"Mike... he'll be all right, won't he?"

"Woo-woof!"

He lifted his head and barked low and strong, as if to settle my nerves. It sounded like a vote of confidence — of course he'll be fine. Watching Wolf, I somehow actually felt reassured. And with that rare, easy feeling, I sank into a deep sleep.

The next day.

I started the morning the way I always did. Cutting through the cold dawn air on a walk around the farm's perimeter with Wolf, I checked the surrounding terrain one more time, carefully.

Open farmland stretched in every direction, and the only vehicle access was the approach road we already controlled. The place was a natural fortress.

Of course, if you dug into it tactically, there were weaknesses. An enemy with real military capability could crawl in under cover of night, or try an air assault with helicopters. But with volcanic ash clouds covering the gray sky and weather like this, that kind of operation would be suicide. And any group with that kind of capability wouldn't waste it on some remote farm. Besides, the Central Valley was full of places just like this.

This was valuable land. No question. But I knew — if the strategic objective was survival, there were times you had to walk away from even the strongest fortress without looking back. Survival came down to choices, and I knew that attachment led to the wrong ones. The end of that road was getting left behind, or dying.

By the time Wolf and I finished our walk and came back, the farm's busy morning was already underway. Sarah was preparing breakfast with Dave's mother, the two of them laughing together, and Raven was gathering eggs from the chicken coop with the kids.

Looking at the coop, built so the chickens wouldn't freeze to death, I thought that if Jake's father were still alive, he and I would have gotten along just fine.

On one side, Gunner was silently cleaning firearms. On the other, Cody was firing up the heavy equipment, getting ready for the day's work.

A peculiar kind of peace. As if the end of the world were something happening on another planet, a lively daily life flowed through this place.

After breakfast, Jake, Frank, and Dave loaded two pickup trucks with sacks of almonds, pistachios, and dried fruit.

"All right then! Sales team, let's roll!"

Frank called out, full of himself. Dave shook his radio in reply.

"Don't worry, I'll be right there making sure nobody gets taken for a ride."

"What? Dave. This is business. Business!"

The three of them headed out, trading cheerful jabs. After they left, Gunner came over to me.

"Boss, the work's all done."

"The full-auto conversions?"

"Yeah. Every rifle we've got is a real automatic now. I inventoried the rest, too."

He glanced at his notebook and continued.

"Good work."

"Ah, almost forgot. One grenade launcher, twenty-four grenades. Haha."

"Right. That stays between the three of us."

The three of us meaning me, Gunner, and Mike.

"Wouldn't have it any other way. Here."

Gunner handed me an ammo can and went on.

"Blackout rounds. The only gun that takes these is your Rattler, so you hang on to them."

"Yeah. I was going to bring that up anyway. Thanks."

I was taking Gunner's report and mapping out the next moves when Cody's bright voice came over the radio.

Gunner and I headed straight for the farmhouse living room where the CB radio was set up. I grabbed the mic and transmitted on channel 19.

A moment later, Mike's voice came through the speaker.

The question felt a little out of nowhere, but I didn't make much of it.

Maybe an hour later, Cody, watching the OP drone camera feed, called out.

"He's coming!"

I looked at the controller monitor Cody was holding. On the screen, Mike's van was the only thing moving on the desolate road, driving along by itself.

He couldn't find his son...?

An uneasy feeling settled in, but then Mike's van pulled into the farm's front yard. The van stopped, and two young men who looked to be in their early twenties climbed out with him. I let out a breath of relief and walked over.

"Mike — you had two sons?"

"No. This one's his friend."

Mike answered shortly and looked around. While people greeted him warmly, his eyes were searching for someone.

"Cody's here... where's Jake?"

"He went to the truck stop with Dave and Frank to sell produce."

Mike's face fell at my answer, and his voice rose.

"What? Get him back here right now. No — phones won't work. Someone needs to go get him, now!"

Everyone stared at him, bewildered, asking ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠what was going on. In a shaking voice, Mike laid out a threat none of us had even imagined.

"I heard it coming through Arizona. The feds are about to sweep up every young person in California."

"Sweep them up?"

"There hasn't even been an announcement. Just like that?"

"Come on. In a mess like this, if they announced a draft ahead of time, who's going to sit around and wait? They're going to drop the announcement and snatch people at the same time — same way ICE does immigration raids."