Chapter 22: Warrenton

September 20, 2030

“Did you find the address?” Katie asked as she was setting the dinner table.

“Yep, it was right where you told me to look,” Clark responded. “The monastery is located on Pine Hill Street.

“When are you thinking of going?” Sally asked as she was helping the girls wash their hands.

“If the weather holds, the day after tomorrow.”

“But, not by yourself,” Katie reminded him of a conversation the three of them had a long time ago. “If there is someone like Herschel and minions out there, you’ll need someone to back you up.”

Clark opened his mouth but knew it was best not to argue. Instead, he grunted in agreement and remained silent. He was going to take a road about which he knew nothing and needed an extra set of eyes to ride shot gun. Besides, Warrenton was larger than Farrville and two people looking for Pine Hill Street would make the task of finding the monastery easier and quicker.

In the interest of mother and baby, Clark didn’t want Sally to take any risks with the pregnancy. Katie was better at handling a shotgun and dealing with stressful situations. She was still breastfeeding little Matthew, but he could now sit up and eat mashed carrots and sweet potatoes getting most of it all over his chubby face than in his belly.

Clark calculated the round trip would take at least two hours and possibly another hour to locate the monastery. He and Katie would hit the road right after the morning chores and be back before noon regardless of whether they found the monastery or not.

The plan was to take the interstate highway north. There was a backroad just outside of Farrville which arched over and then ran parallel to the interstate to connect to a road that led east towards Warrenton. It would have shortened the distance by about ten miles. However, Clark preferred the open highway to get a better assessment of the conditions ahead and circumvent any obstructions or ambushes.

It was highly unlikely that they would encounter any survivors. However, if they did see or run into people, they weren’t going to take any chances and just keep on driving. Since the collapse, social interaction was not always the best way to stay alive. People who survived in these parts for the last four years were at best self-reliant and at most just as cautious about making immediate, close contacts with unknown parties, especially not with occupants of a government vehicle.

September 22, 2030

It was a cool sunny morning, and the trees were starting to put on a show of fall colors. The fuel tank of the muscle bound jeep was full. A few food supplies, a well-prepared first aid kit and some extra clothes had been loaded in the back the night before. Katie grabbed the 12-guage shotgun; Clark the M4 semi-automatic, plus several rounds of ammunition for both.

At the last minute, they decided to take Sally, the kids and Blizzard to the gated monastery instead of up to the cabin. Going up and down the mountain would have pushed the time to be back from Warrenton to late afternoon. Clark set the radio so that the speakers would switch on when he and Katie were able to transmit from Warrenton.

“Daddy, where are you and Mama going,” Trish insisted, not releasing her hands around his.

“We are going to try to find the angels who brought you to us and tell them how much you have grown and how pretty you are,” Clark responded.

“But why can’t we go with you?” Fifi wanted to know again.

“Well, someone has to stay with Mama and Matthew, and I know both of you are going to do a good job, right?”

“OK,” Fifi and Trish responded together, yet not too happy with the decision.

“Blizzard, you stay and watch over Fifi and Trish,” Clark gave the command, which the dog calmly obeyed by sitting down on his hind legs with his tongue hanging out of his mouth.

Before they locked the front gate, they gave each other a long round of hugs like they were going on an extended road trip.

Clark and Katie didn’t say a word the entire drive into Farrville. Katie looked worried, just staring out the window.

“Hey, they’re going to be alright,” Clark said, putting his hand on her lap and patting it gently. “You’ll see. Besides, I need you to stay alert so we can be back in no time.”

She nodded, “I know,” and repositioned the shotgun between her legs.

As soon as they drove past the tractor dealership, they no longer recognized the road they had trailed four years ago to reach the cabin. The traffic lines had been erased by rain and sleet. The paved shoulders were completely overtaken by wild grasses and crawling vines where stranded cars with their bellies sitting on the ground had fallen victim to the elements, decaying faster than the ones in town. Weeds, including some samplings had taken root in the asphalt, widening small cracks into larger ones. In a few years, the road would be indistinguishable from the land around it unless one was standing on a remaining chunk of asphalt.

Clark and Katie were entering a strange, foreign territory. Their senses went into high alert.

Once they got onto the four-lane interstate highway, the scene wasn’t much different. There were fewer cracks and the dividing lines were still recognizable, but the number of cars and trucks abandoned in the middle and on the side of the road was too many to count. In some places, Clark had to edge along the shoulders. There were many electric cars, but even the conventional ones with the latest electronic gadgets didn’t stand a chance when the EMP struck the earth, leaving their occupants stranded in the middle of nowhere.

Clark had forgotten how wide the lanes on an interstate highway were and fancied himself on a race track, itching to take the vehicle for a spin at the posted speed limit of 65 miles per hour. The urge was quickly derailed. He was either forced to slow down by intermittent cars stranded in the middle of the highway or forced by his own unease driving along an unfamiliar track in order to anticipate any dangers. He decided not to go over 50.

It was nearly impossible to see most of the southbound lanes through the tangle of tall weeds and brush along the median. The disarray on that side was far worse with cars and trucks, school buses, bicycles, even hand wagons clogging the highway, abandoned by people in an effort to flee south to the big cities or beyond.

Half way into their ride, they encountered first one and then several herds of deer, grazing peacefully among the flourishing open spaces along the side of the road. Clark slowed down to a crawl so as not to scare them away.

It was rutting season and the dominant mating buck of one herd was too busy to care about the slow moving, non-menacing vehicle. Further down the highway, another dominant buck, almost the size of a bull, was loudly bugling to keep his female herd together, while off to one side a couple of bachelor bucks were sparring, pushing and shoving, the winner eventually getting to breed a stray, unsuspecting young female.

“Look at the size of the antlers on that buck and how he displays his long, pink cue stick,” Clark chuckled. “That alone sure gives him bragging rights to toot his horn.”

Katie looked at him with leering eyes. “You like to toot yours too, well more like grunt and groan to make a statement with your big tool.”

They smiled at each other, as their love-mating of two nights ago was still fresh in their minds. He had entered her slowly, hot and hungry, snaking his way past her labia and penetrating her deeply. Her nipples had hardened and she gasped with joy as the sensation of being filled with his manhood spread throughout her body, taking her breath away. Once again his wonderful cock owned her.

He remained still deep inside her welcoming channel, whispering silly things into her ear. Instinctively, he began a slow rhythm, driving deep into her depths each time. Their needs were apparent and he increased the pace. She quickly crested and cried out her orgasm as his majestic cock expanded in size and thickness. Then with a growl, he pushed against her as far as he could, letting his balls deposit their potent load into her warm vagina.

They slowly moved away from the herd. Clark talked with excitement about the incredible number of deer they saw and vowed he would return in several weeks to take down one for their winter meat provisions. Hunting was a man’s business and Katie didn’t object to him coming alone.

“What’s that ahead?” Katie cried out, as they cleared the crest of a hill, pointing to an ominous heap in the middle of the road.

Clark turned his attention away from his imaginary deer hunt and squinted. “It looks like a massive pileup.”

As they approached the site, it appeared that cars had rolled to a stop at the bottom of the hill when their engines suddenly died. Subsequently, they were rear-ended by other cars in a domino-fender-bender pile-up, followed by a tractor-trailer, creating a hellacious wreck.

The driver of the behemoth had made a valiant effort to swerve his rig onto the grassy center median. However, it was too late and not enough, as the tail end of the trailer slammed into several cars catapulting some over the others. The semi-truck eventually came to a rest, straddling the road and blocking the left shoulder.

To make things worse, a delivery truck had crashed head on into the semi, the nose plowing under the bed of the trailer, the cabin taking the full brunt of the impact, crushing it like an empty beer can.

The right shoulder was blocked by cars, one flipped onto its side pinned against the guard rail. The grassy embankment was inaccessible with the guard rail extending several hundred yards in both directions. The only option was to activate the four-wheel drive to maneuver through the waist high vegetation of the median and drive around the front end of the tractor-trailer.

As they cleared the front of the semi to get back onto the road, the full scene of the pileup came into view. The wreckage involved more than a dozen cars and stretched about 40 yards with broken auto parts still scattered on the road. The lead vehicle was nothing but a completely burned out rusted hulk.

“Do you think anybody survived the crash?” Katie wondered.

“The driver of the semi, probably; the others ... I’m not too sure,” Clark lamented, shaking his head. “The driver of the delivery truck definitely not.”

It was a horrific reminder of the many road accidents he had heard about when the supposed solar storm hit the earth, electric circuits fried and engines failed; brakes were unresponsive. Thousands were killed or died from injuries because emergency assistance was unreachable and unavailable. Hundreds of thousands were stranded on highways, in airports, and in places far from home and with no life support. Many had died from shock or heart failure wandering aimlessly about; others from violence spun out of control.

Clark and Katie did not stop to look around. There wasn’t anything they could do anyway, nor did they want to gawk at the destruction like some cheap thrill seekers. Besides, they had agreed not to stop no matter what.

They drove on in tense silence and several miles later a green sign loomed ahead, reading EXIT WARRENTON 1 MILE.

“Almost there,” Katie announced, sitting up straight in her seat.

As soon as they got off the interstate highway, the landscape changed to wide vistas of golden fields of what once were pastures and crop land, dotted here and there with barns and silos and groves of trees. From afar, across the wide open space, they could see the first glimmers of a town with forest covered hills rising in the background.

Vehicle carcasses of all shapes and sizes sat abandoned on the side of the road and in ditches like sacrificial lambs, an all too familiar and constant sight. The usual road side businesses like gas stations, fast food restaurants, and a car dealership lined the highway for about a mile on both sides as they neared the town.

A welcome sign greeted Clark and Katie to Warrenton, Established 1832, Population 3,415 – or was. Now after nearly two hundred years, the place looked like a ghost town. Buildings and streets were empty and dreary without the presence of human life, any life.

Traffic circles at intersections along the highway slowed them down enough to see where they were going. At the third roundabout, they turned north onto what appeared to be the main business sector. The deserted street was broad with wide sidewalks lined with shops, offices, banks, even an old cinema. Most of the buildings were made of solid bricks and appeared to be in good shape. Their windows and doors, adorned with awnings of every shape and color, were intact. It looked like any other mid-sized town on a sleepy Sunday morning with not a soul in sight, except for a handful of abandoned cars sitting atop flat tires in diagonal parking spaces on both sides of the main thoroughfare.

Clark reduced the speed of the vehicle to a crawl and lowered his window enough to hear any sound over the hum of the motor. Nothing stirred except autumn leaves, some trash and empty plastic bottles being chased by the breeze. At every intersection, broken traffic lights hung in silence, yet Clark stopped to look both ways, not to watch out for traffic, but to see if there were any sudden, suspicious movements, as well as decipher the fading street signs.

Through the store windows of a corner diner, the sun cast vague shadows inside. It was unsettling. For a second, they stopped to make sure it wasn’t more than just shadows. They had promised not to stop if they saw people, yet they held out hope.

A very strange silence filled the atmosphere as they drove the entire length of the street, ever weary of what might lurk behind large bushes, concealed porches, and closed doors. Missing from sidewalks and front lawns were shopping carts and it seemed that everyone had abandoned the town in a mad dash.

The street gradually rose at a slight grade for several blocks and past solidly built residences with sweeping front yards. They saw no signs of recent human activity, but it was clear that many had been poked through. They also came upon a Catholic Church standing stoically next to an adjacent cemetery. The tops of headstones stared at them over the tall grass. Clark drove a little faster.

At the far corner of the iron fence of the cemetery, Katie spotted a street sign with only the word Pine still legible. “This must be it,” she said pointing with confidence.

Clark turned and less than fifty yards to their left saw a four-foot statue of a saintly figure on top of a block of granite. As they got closer, the entrance to a driveway appeared.

“This definitely is it,” they said in unison.

The driveway was long and led them further uphill until they reached a two-story, Victorian style, brick house at the top of a rise overlooking the town and broad grasslands. The house was built with a turret embedded in the west corner topped with a conical roof. Clark estimated the house was built before the turn of the last century most likely by the early gentry of the town. It looked solid, and yet there were scars that showed the inevitable march of time. A gutter hung precariously, window frames were weather-beaten, and sections of the roof were besieged with moss.

“It looks spooky,” Katie said, looking up at the dark windows.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t want to be here on Halloween night even if they handed out bags filled with Snickers,” Clark agreed.

A thick carpet of freshly fallen leaves mingled with dry layers from previous years covered the driveway that looped around the front of the house.

He entered the loop to his left and parked the car with the driver’s side facing the porch of the house just in case they needed to make a hasty getaway. He told Katie to stand behind the front of the vehicle and keep an eye on the windows, especially the ones on the second floor, for any movement.

Clark exited the car. “Hello,” he shouted. “Brother Ezequiel, Brother Francis, is anyone home?”

He repeated the call and waited about a minute. There was no response, and he walked up the steps of the porch and again called out. His call was met with continued silence.

He turned to look where Katie was positioned. She gave him a thumbs-up that all was quiet, that nothing had stirred.

He walked across the worn out planks of the porch to the front door and used the heavy brass doorknocker to make anyone inside aware of his presence. No one came. He knocked and called again. Still nothing. He peeked through the narrow sidelight windows of the door, hoping to catch a glimpse of someone or the shadow of some movement. When no answer came from within, he motioned for Katie to join him.

“Stay behind me and don’t shoot unless it’s absolutely necessary,” he told her.

Breathing heavily, she swallowed hard. “OK.”

Clark turned the door handle and found the door unlocked. He gave it a push and the door swung open in a long gaping yawn. A wave of stale air hit them immediately.

Worried they might be mistaken as intruders, he again announced their presence. It was dead silent inside.

He entered the vestibule hallway with Katie close behind. They did a quick sweep of all the downstairs rooms and found the place a bit neglected. The carpets were threadbare in spots heavily trafficked. Wallpaper was peeling off places along baseboards under the windows. Overall there was a dank smell and hanging cobwebs were everywhere, adding to the creepiness of the place.

The furniture was as old as the house, yet arranged with unmistakable symmetry. The only item out of place was a stained pillow on a worn out old leather couch. The depression in the middle was evidence that someone had been sleeping there.

The kitchen was a mess which contradicted the image they had of ascetic monks. The table was stacked with empty cans and jars, unwashed plates and spoons. Some had fallen on the floor that no one cared to pick up. Empty buckets of survival food, the same brand as the ones stored in the cellar of the Farrville Monastery, were piled near the back door. It was closed but not locked. There was no sign of a break-in by starving hordes.

They climbed the stairs to the second floor. Every step creaked as if in protest. Clark stopped short of the landing where again he called out to anyone who might not have heard him the first few times. There were four bedrooms; two facing the back of the house; two, the front.