Many of them believe that the 9/11 attacks were supported or “allowed to happen” by factions in the government looking to expand surveillance and detention powers, in the name of the “War on Terror.” Similarly, the pundits surmised that the Boston Bombing was perpetrated to test the citizens’ reaction to a martial-law-style lockdown of a major city. Would Boston’s population openly tolerate the presence of armored personnel carriers and heavily armed soldiers patrolling the streets, while teams of SWAT officers went door to door, pulling citizens out of their homes at gunpoint?
Even the Jakarta Pandemic had been linked to a “mystery faction’s” overall effort to condition the American people, desensitizing the population to situations that might result in mass casualties and essential services shortages. They claimed that all of these events would be linked to a singular, “mass event” that would tip the scales and invoke a permanent national police state, which we would welcome with open arms.
Alex imagined that the conspiracy pundits were going crazy with theories—made even worse by the fact that they had no Internet to propagate them. On a whole, he didn’t buy into these theories, but given what he had just witnessed, it couldn’t hurt to keep an eye on the big picture. He reached Kate, who sat on the first step of the doorway, and saw that the kids were hidden deeper in the alcove, seated against the building.
“Everything all right over there?” she asked him.
“I don’t know. The cops just seized that guy’s vehicle in the name of the federal government.”
“What?” said Emily. “They can’t do that.”
“Federal government? That doesn’t sound right,” said Kate.
“I agree, which is why I don’t know what to think. The officer cited Homeland Security and a state of national emergency. Said they needed working vehicles to get the rest of the police department out on patrol,” said Alex.
“That makes more sense,” Kate said with some relief. “I’m sure that’s all they were doing.”
Alex shook his head and checked his watch. “That’s the fifth car we’ve seen on Broadway in what—twenty or thirty minutes? How many cars does the department need to replace? If they just started seizing cars, it makes sense, but it’s been over three hours since the tsunami hit. I think we need to avoid any law enforcement roadblocks or checkpoints from this point forward.”
“How the hell are we going to get to Boston if the police are stealing cars?”
“Let’s get home first,” he said, extending his hand to Kate.
She lifted herself off the step and immediately hugged his sweaty frame, burying her head in his shoulder.
“We don’t even know if our other car will work,” she whispered, lifting her head.
“We’ll figure something out. I’ll ride a bike to Boston if I have to. Everything will be fine. I promise.”
Kate shook her head. “You can’t make a promise like that.”
“I can promise you that I’ll do everything in my power to make it happen. You know I’m good for that,” he said, kissing her moist forehead. “Let’s get moving. If we’re sweating like this at ten in the morning, I’d hate to see us at noon.”
They took a few moments to adjust their backpacks and CamelBak water hoses before stepping off on the rest of their two-to three-hour hike. They headed south along Ocean Street for less than a block, crossing the street at the end of the middle school’s athletic field. Alex kept his eyes on the police cruiser to the north, wondering how many cars they had added to the department’s inventory this morning. He couldn’t shake the deeply imbedded suspicion that nothing was as it seemed this morning—and the fear that nothing would ever be the same again.
Turning onto Highland Avenue a few minutes later filled him with a momentary sense of relief. Highland Avenue intersected with Harrison Road in Scarborough, at the Pleasant Hill firehouse located less than a third of a mile from their house. All they had to do at this point was follow Highland Avenue for three and a half miles to the firehouse, where they could pretty much stumble into their neighborhood. They had walked for less than a minute before hearing the distant sound of a vehicle. Alex quickly scanned his surroundings and made a decision that surprised him.
“Honey, take the kids and hide behind that car,” he said, pointing at an older model minivan in the adjacent parking lot.
“Are we hiding from cars now?” she snapped, grabbing Emily’s sleeve and pulling her toward the minivan.
“Maybe I’m being ridiculous,” he said, walking with them.
He barely spotted the white sedan rounding the bend on Highland before a clump of thick bushes blocked his view. He had managed to see that the driver had activated the left turn signal, which meant the car would turn north on Ocean Street, headed right into the police trap. He changed his mind about hiding and moved swiftly to the street, waving his hands over his head.
“What the fuck are you doing?” hissed Kate, holding her hands palms up in an annoyed gesture.
“Get behind the car!” he said over his shoulder.
The car slowed enough for him to yell at a blond woman through the open driver’s-side window.
“There’s a police roadblock at Broadway. They’re seizing cars!” yelled Alex.
The car screeched to a halt several feet before the intersection, and Alex jogged along the sidewalk, careful not to approach the car directly and possibly frighten the driver. The woman leaned her head out of the window. She had a laceration on her forehead above her right eyebrow, which had bled profusely at some point this morning given the amount of congealed blood plastered to the right side of her face. Her hair was matted to her head above the wound.
“What are you talking about?” she asked.
Alex caught up with her, staying on the sidewalk to keep at least a car’s length distance between them.
“The police have a cruiser set up in the middle of the intersection at Broadway and Ocean. I watched them stop a car and force the driver out. Emergency seizure,” he said.
“What about further down at Cottage and Broadway?” asked the driver.
“We just came from there. It was clear fifteen minutes ago,” said Alex.
“Good. Did you notice if any of the stores are open?” she asked, glancing around nervously.
“The variety store on the corner of Broadway and Mussey was open, but they didn’t have power. Cash only. We saw a slow but steady stream of people walking down Cottage toward the shopping complex. What’s the situation like down Highland? We’re headed to Scarborough.”
“I heard that the water reached Highland across from Wainright Field, but I haven’t confirmed that. We live by the high school. There’s all kinds of weird talk out there. EMP, Chinese invasion, volcano erupting in Boston…”
“What happened to your forehead?” Alex asked.
He suddenly felt slightly exposed standing on the side of the road. If the water hadn’t reached her house, why did she look like she had been in a knife fight? What else did they face walking down Highland Avenue?
“One of my—neighbors—decided that I wasn’t entitled to one of the few working cars on the street,” she said, staring blankly through the front windshield.
Alex didn’t care to press the question. He knew what had likely played out in her driveway, and that the neighbor had lost the fight.