copyright January/2011
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The world has gone to hell, Casey Stewart thought as he made his way up the steep trail to his cabin in the hills. This area of southern Missouri was known as the Gateway to the Ozarks. The closest big city, St. Louis, was nearly two hundred miles away, the closest small town was fifty miles, and his closest neighbor was almost twenty. He turned to check on his fiancΓ©e, Dixie Martin, as she followed him up the faint game trail. Hell of a thing, he said to himself. There are just as many resources and supplies as before but people are going crazy because they're not as readily available.
Civilization had started its downward spiral three weeks previously. There was a new 'virus' or 'worm' that had infiltrated most of the computers in the country and spread to the rest of the world. Government and private sector IT people had been unable, as of yet, to get rid of it; they hadn't even been able to stop it from spreading.
No one knew where the 'virus' came from or how it started. Usually, when a 'virus' caused a lot of trouble, some group with an idiotic name like 'The People's Liberation Front' or 'Freedom Hackers' would claim responsibility for the bug. Someone or some group had implanted this 'worm' and they were keeping quiet about it so far.
More important than who was responsible, was what they'd done. The bug basically froze the computers it infected; they just plain quit working. No amount of rebooting or scans cured the problem. By the time the IT gurus found out that it apparently had started with an email, it was too late. If someone opened the email, it made their hard drive self destruct.
Before doing its dirty deed, the virus scanned and forwarded the email to every contact the person had listed. It seems that the worm would read previous emails and hide itself behind a person or subject that wouldn't make the recipient suspicious. That person would open the email and the bug claimed another set of victims.
The bug was like a snowball on steroids, rolling downhill along the computer network picking up speed and size as it went. Firewalls and anti-virus software didn't even slow it down. Soon almost every computer in the nation was no more than a large paperweight.
Some of the small towns, most of the bigger municipalities and all the larger cities had depended too much on computers. As a result of the 'virus', their infrastructure failed. Telephone and other communication services failed. People or groups who had access to battery powered short wave radios or walky talkies could still communicate. Food inventories began to dwindle; orders couldn't be made much less filled, and the distribution network came apart. The flow of water in homes and business stopped and electrical power became sporadic at best.
Without electricity food stuffs in freezers and refrigerators spoiled; this happened to businesses as well as homes. The supply of canned goods rapidly disappeared. It became difficult to get gas from the underground tanks at service stations with no electrical power to run the pumps. The few stations that had hand pumps were sort of under siege with long lines wanting gas. There were serious arguments and more than one fight broke out over who was first in line. Some station owners were beaten because of the inflated prices they began to charge. And of course without gas, the cars and trucks stopped running.
Casey had seen a Discovery Channel show that said most major population centers were, at best, two to three days away from food riots. He believed it because he'd seen it with his own eyes. People started hoarding food and those that didn't have food began to steal from their neighbors and from strangers. There were several instances of people being beaten and killed; both the victims and the aggressors had causalities.
The local television and radio stations had emergency generators and were still able to broadcast; at least until the fuel for their generators ran out. Most stations began to ration their time on the air; they broadcast news and helpful information for an hour at a time, twice a day. Local stations took turns broadcasting but national news was limited and not always available.
Casey was watching the news on the morning of the twenty first day. There were several reports of gangs roaming his city, beating people and stealing their food and supplies. Some home owners were even killed. As soon as he saw how dangerous the city was becoming, he made plans to head for his cabin hideaway.
He packed his Ford F250 4x4 with supplies; the camper shell would hide the food and other items from prying jealous eyes. Casey took sleeping bags, several changes of clothes, his supply of freeze dried food, canned goods, and other foods that wouldn't require refrigeration; the exception being several frozen steaks and a couple of roasts. He hoped they'd have a chance to use it before it thawed; if nothing else he would use the roasts to make beef jerky.
The last things he packed were a Weatherby .223 bolt action rifle, which he put in the gun rack over the rear window of his truck, and his three pistols He carried a Colt 1911A1 .45 pistol in the small of his back. In the lock box in the cab he put his Dan Wesson .357 revolver, and a .38 special revolver. In addition, Casey had several hundred rounds for each of his weapons.
Dixie lived across the street and when Casey waved at her about noon, she joined him at the truck carrying her duffel bag. They started the long drive to Casey's secluded cabin. As they left the city they had to run a road block on the main road. Casey didn't know if it had been set up by the government or someone trying to capture food and supplies. It didn't make any difference who had set it up; Casey had no intention of stopping.
He pulled his Colt and pushed the accelerator to the floor; heading for the middle of the roadblock. When he got within 50 feet he turned the steering wheel sharply to the right and squeezed the truck between a light pole and a building. After clearing the obstruction, he never slowed down. There were a few shots fired at them but they weren't hit.
On the trip to his cabin, Casey explained that they'd stay there until things stabilized in the city. "We'll go back when things go back to normal," he told Dixie. "Or at least as normal as they can be after a situation like this."
Driving secondary and back roads, it took Casey and Dixie a little over six hours to get to an unmarked, overgrown fire road leading through the forest toward the cabin. He drove to within a mile of the cabin; it was just on the other side of the ridge. Casey backed the truck into a gulley and after unloading some of the supplies, he and Dixie covered the truck with tree branches to hide it. She helped with the camouflage but asked why they hadn't driven all the way to the cabin.
"I don't look for it to happen but if we have to get the hell out of Dodge I don't want to find that someone waiting by the truck or that they've disabled it," Casey replied. "If we have to run, we'll come down that ridge line, grab the truck and get gone." He pulled the ignition coil, put it in a zip lock bag, and hid it under a nearby rock. "Now no one with be able to steal the truck if they find it"
"Do you really think things are going to get that bad?" Dixie asked in a worried voice.
Casey hesitated for a few seconds before answering. "I just don't know. It's been less than a month and we're already having food riots, looting, and some people have been killed for what was in their panty." He stopped for a bit and said, "There's food and supplies in the cabin to last two people for a long time." Casey took Dixie's hand and added, "We'll be okay up here honey."
Dixie was happy that she and Casey had a safe haven to go to. She knew he had bought the cabin and the surrounding acreage when got home from the Army a couple of years ago. The first time Casey brought her to the cabin, Dixie had asked him if it was a hunting lodge.