Chapter 2: Friday, November 16th, 2012 - 0900

Rob Blake briefly looked at his cell phone in disbelief. It has just died. There was no signal. What the hell happened?

"Watch out," Susan screamed and Rob looked up just in time to see a rioter run in front of his truck with a baseball bat.

Rob pressed on the gas and swerved to catch the rioter on the fender. He decided it would be better to break a headlight than to get someone tangled in the under carriage as he felt the truck lurch. He couldn't resist a grim smile as he remembered some of the old jokes that ended with a second thump, thump as a truck was backed up over a victim. He dropped the useless cell phone and picked up his Glock and continued to drive one-handed.

"Cell died," Rob said flatly. "I don't even know if he heard me tell him I loved him." He felt a deep, bleak sadness as he continued to drive and watch for more of the roving gangs. It seemed like the rioters were just out to hurt people and destroy property.

"Don't worry honey," Susan said softly. "He knows you love him and he will get to the cabin," she continued reassuringly while patting the arm that held the glock. Susan's attention wasn't distracted by comforting Rob though. Suddenly she pushed the tip of the barrel of the shot gun out the passenger side window and said sharply, "Jimmy, right side, pickup."

Rob caught a glimpse in the rearview mirror of his 13 year old son sliding the barrel of the AR-15 out the back window. At the same time he saw the danger his wife had recognized before he did and stepped on the gas, hard. A pickup was idling in the driveway of a business with two men in the back. They both had rifles propped over the top of the pickup cab and were watching the approach of the loaded down F250. Rob saw one man on top pound the top of the pickup cab just as he hit the gas. He wasn't too worried about the men in the back if they tried to chase him. It might look cool in the movies to be shooting from the back of a moving pickup but the reality was a completely different story. Every swerve of the truck would cause centrifugal force that would throw the passengers in the back from the vehicle with, hopefully, deadly force. Rob was very afraid of the initial volley from the truck.

"Fire," Rob yelled as the heavy truck picked up speed. "Don't wait for them. Shoot now."

The rapid fire boom, boom of the shotgun's double-ought buck was intermingled with the tat, tat, tat of the AR-15 as his wife and son fired both weapons at the waiting truck as quickly as they could pull the triggers. Both riflemen on top of the truck got off one shot but Rob only heard one round hit the side of the truck and that was farther back. The other round went somewhere high overhead because the gunman was already falling back into the bed of the truck. The second gunman quickly followed. Rob didn't know if they were shot or just ducking for cover. He did know the windshield of the pickup was a maze of holes and cracks as the bullets impacted the shatter proof glass. The gunmen's pickup made one lurch and he could see it in is rear view mirror as it seemed to coast into the street and across to nudge against a car parked on the other side.