February 25, 2005

We left Mammoth fairly early in the day - at least as early as you can when you have to get an entire caravan of people moving.

We moved along as cautiously as possible. We reached Dudleyville, a little ahead of the main body of the caravan, as usual. They looked in much better shape than some of the other places we'd passed through. It turned out they had a fairly well organized militia group before it all went down. We assured them that we didn't intend to cause any trouble; we were just passing through. They waved us through, not threatening at all, but their armaments were in evidence.

The next town we reached was Globe. It looked like the middle of a war zone. There'd obviously been some serious military action here. We saw some movement from within what buildings were still standing, but no one came out to greet us. I supposed I might be hiding too if the street outside my house looked like downtown Beirut.

We reached the San Carlos Indian Reservation next. In trade for some of the things we'd bought on the way to the War, they let us use their rest stop. It was appreciated.

We managed to avoid the next roadblock, along the Mogollon Rim. We left the vehicles and sneaked forward for a better look. They were loading a bunch of Changed into a C-130 in the middle of an improvised landing strip. It burned in my gut, but they were too well armed for us to take them on. We got safely back to our vehicles, than made sure the caravan took a different route.

It turned out that the alternative route didn't really help. We ran right into another roadblock at Springerville that we didn't spot in time. I could see at least 12 well-armed soldiers that were on full alert. They had a bunch of prisoners tied up too - all Changed. I'd been hoping we could bluff our way past - but I did not pass for human anymore. The lead one ordered me to get out of my vehicle and put my hands up. I was thinking desperately for a way to avoid that, because I was pretty sure they'd kill me on sight. I summoned that magic for an illusion of fire again; it had worked pretty well the last time. It was a good choice. Nine of them dropped, screaming and beating at the imaginary flames. Then there was a loud bang and glass flew everywhere. I was tossed across the cab onto Jennifer. We were both bleeding pretty badly and she was unconscious. Michael had tossed a grenade into combat. Didn't he ever hear of blast radius?

I guess the grenade must have got the rest, because no one shot me when I sat up and looked around. Gods it hurt! Jennifer was looking frighteningly pale. "Crom! Grant me healing for this girl!" I shouted. I felt the power moving through me, and then Jennifer was enveloped in a warm, golden light. She was still a little rough, but at least she was breathing easier and had stopped bleeding. Jazz poked her head through the remains of my window to see how we were doing. She prayed herself, healing me completely.

I had Jennifer wait in the truck while I got out to look around. I didn't say anything to Michael at this point. I was afraid if I looked at him I'd kill him. If Jennifer had died, he would have been next.

All told, we found 15 M-16s and a total of 45 clips. I personally took one M-16 and three clips, just in case. There were also copies of USA Today. I saved those for later. We stripped 9 desert camo uniforms - with no insignia, I noted - off the guys that had died of the illusionary fire. We ended up with a total of 15 pair of Ray-Ban Gargoyles. I took the dog tags off of them too. I held them up and shouted to the sky, "Crom! Count my dead!" They were consumed immediately in a golden flame, and when it subsided I was holding 9 silver chains, each with a hammer and anvil charm. I could feel that Crom had blessed them. "Hmm. Holy symbols!" I tucked them away, for future converts.

Then, Jazz and I both prayed for the souls of the dead. They may have tried to kill us, but they were still people.

We tended the prisoners while Malcolm went back to signal the caravan to continue on. Once they'd caught up to us, we found places for our 15 new charges. I think people were happy to take them in and care for them. It helped them feel like they were doing something against all this darkness.

We finally got moving again. The rest of the day was pretty uneventful. We ended up camping for the night at a railhead. The spur joined a main line that ran along I-40 into New Mexico. Tomorrow, if the Gods are kind, we'll be pushing to Chaco.

The papers were passed around to everyone, and we devoured what news there was. Most of the paper was about travel restrictions, the scarcity of goods, and FEMA's anti-hoarding edicts. Two stories stood out, though.

The first said the President Ventura, the First Family, and all of the surviving cabinet members had been killed when a bomb went off aboard Air Force One. They had supposedly been en route to Vandenberg Air Force Base when they went down in the middle of Nevada.

We knew the President was alive and at NORAD - whoever is in charge now must not be a friend of his. That's our Jesse - Mr. Popularity! But now, if they kill him, they already have an empty coffin, and no one to question them as to how the President died.

The second piece was even more ominous. It covered decontamination procedures (which looked an awful lot like those used for radiation exposure) for the 'Essex bioweapon'. Apparently, the CDC wants everyone thinking these changes are contagious. Who knows? Maybe they are.

Late in the night, we ate stone soup and listened as the bards did their best to sing and play to keep the populace's spirits up. It wasn't easy; off to the east we could see flashes of mid-air gunfire and see the fiery trails of air-to-air missiles seeking (and finding) their targets. Attack helicopters fighting each other; Apaches, someone said.

I finally retired to my tent with Jennifer and let her help me relax in the fashion that she is oh, so skillful at.