Chapter 5

Sticking to the back roads Junior took his time getting to Gatlinburg. He wanted to avoid the possible heavy congestion of the main highways, and get a good look at the town from the side of the mountain. Finding a suitable spot, he studied the town through binoculars. He wasn't sure what he would see, and wasn't looking for anything in particular. He had promised Sarah that he would be careful and scouting the town would help. It would also give him a general idea of any major changes. While at this distance he would not be able to make out individual faces, some things were immediately obvious.

The first was the barricade on Highway 71. Tour buses had been parked across the highway, blocking it to vehicle traffic. When he scanned as far as he could see to the east, the most likely direction of a large influx of people, he could not see any barricades in that direction. Junior figured from the lack of traffic on the Parkway and on 321 that they were blocked though. While there was some traffic, it was not as heavy as it would have been a week before. Knowing the area, he found it hard to believe that all the roads into town had been barricaded. Checking those back streets he could see from his vantage point told him little, as he could see no obvious barricades, but he could not see any one complete route into town due to the rough terrain.

Deciding he could learn nothing more from here he made his way down the mountain and into town. The first two roads he tried were blocked by vehicles, the third by simply cutting down trees to prevent vehicles from getting through. The fourth was not completely blocked, yet several men stood beside a snowplow angle partially across the street. One of the men was a deputy sheriff and all were armed with hunting rifles. Junior noted that none of the guns were scoped, showing that someone with some common sense was in charge. Scopes were great for long range shots, mainly at stationary or slow moving targets. At the range these men would be shooting, less than one hundred yards, and given a speeding vehicles closure rate, open sights made much more sense.

Junior stopped when the deputy raised his hand in the universal "halt" gesture and rolled down his window. He did not recognize the man and cut the engine to make conversation easier.

"What's your business in town sir?" the deputy asked. Junior told him where he lived and that he had come into town to check on the situation, and to make contact with the sheriff. Nodding his understanding the deputy asked for Junior's driver's license. He then stepped away and had a short conversation on his radio. Junior spent the time observing the men with the deputy. He approved of their tactics, as one of them watched him, while the other's eyes constantly scanned the approach to town. This greatly reduced the chance of someone slipping into the area on foot while everyone was distracted by dealing with the stopped vehicle. Due to their manner, and the way they worked well together, Junior figured both of them for ex-military, probably recently home from somewhere shooting was going on.

While Junior was studying the men, the deputy returned, handing his license back.

"Sheriff said he will meet you at the station. Drive straight there, don't make any extra stops or unnecessary detours. The sheriff will answer any questions you have."

Junior proceeded farther into town, driving slowly, getting a good look around. Twice he saw people in bio suits carry out what appeared to be bodies wrapped in black plastic and duct tape. If improvised body bags were already in use, the death rate must be climbing. He also saw people in different uniforms, police, fire, and street department, helping carry foodstuff out of homes and into waiting vans and trucks. Junior noticed several houses with black flags tacked to the door and wondered if this was a way of telling everyone someone inside had the flu, or if it meant the occupant was dead.

Arriving at the station he was met at the door by another officer, this one with the Gatlinburg Police Department. Again his ID was check before he was allowed inside.

Inside the place looked like a disaster. Cots were set up in any available space, probably so the officers could sleep here and be available for a major emergency. Several people in civilian clothes, as well as fire and police uniforms, hustled about at various tasks. Asking one of them where the sheriff was earned him a quick glance, and a finger pointed down the hall that led to the cells in back.

Junior's first look at Sheriff Pembrook shocked him. Finding out the man was still alive made him assume he was in good health. However, the man he found laying on the lower bunk in one of the cells looked like death warmed over. Pembrook had lost weight, and not in a good way. His uniform hung loosely on his body, and his hands and face were a sickly gray. Noticing Junior he attempted to set up, making it on the third try. This sent him into a coughing fit, and he waved at Junior to take a seat. Junior stood and watched as the coughs racked Pembook's body. When the coughing finally subsided the sheriff spat a mouthful of phlegm into a nearby trash can. He drank from a bottle of water on the floor by the bunk before leveling his gaze at Junior.

"What the hell are you still doing here boy? You wait too long and you won't make it to Montana." His raspy voice still carried the authority from years in uniform. A small coughing spell robbed him of air for a moment. When he had settled down he continued.

"Bubba, you need to get out of town. I don't know how bad things is gonna get, but it ain't gonna be pretty. I had some guys head east the other day to take a look around, and from what they tell me the shit's about to hit the fan. Deputy Simmons said it looks like everybody on the east coast is headed right for us, and will be here in a week or so. I got this thing now, and unless God feels like giving me a miracle, I got a few days, maybe a week left. I'm trying to get things set up so as the people here can ride out the worst. Junior, I'm serious, I know you would be a big help, and I would like to ask you to stay, maybe even take over for me when I go, but you need to get out of here. You got a place to go that won't see this many people coming into it, and you'll be better off there." The sheriff coughed and cleared his lungs again. "Now get your ass back in your truck, and get going." He sank back on the bunk, exhausted, and Junior stepped over and grabbed his hand.

He was surprised at how cold Pembrook's hand was, and knew the man didn't have long. "Alright, you old coot, I'll go. One of the reasons I came in today was to get a truck and trailer to haul off anything I need. Sheriff, my place would be good for a dozen or so to hole up in, so I am going to have Sarah's folks, and a few others that don't seem like they've been exposed, move in there. I'll leave them with a good supply of food and ammo, so warn others to stay away." His concern for the man was evident on his face. "You get some rest, and I'll see you after this is all over."

"Bullshit!" Pembrook replied. "Send someone out front back here, and I'll tell'em you're gonna be helping yourself to a truck and trailer down at Abe's. Just leave him a check for everything on his desk, that way no one can say you stole it. The DMV is closed, but I don't think not having plates is gonna be a big deal." He shooed Junior out the door, then sat back up, waiting for someone to carry his orders.