EXODUS 2020
EXODUS 2020 Chapter 1. THE HUNT REV 8:1 “When he had opened the SEVENTH SEAL there was silence in heaven about the space of half an hour…” It seemed as though the brilliant autumn leaves, were in themselves a fire as they flashed in the light of the setting sun, thrown into the air by the whirling wheels of their speeding A. T. V.’s,. It was still early October. The air was crisp and fresh, perfumed with the musky scent of fallen leaves. The north wind came on the heels of a violent late season hurricane that had prematurely stripped the forest of its dazzling autumn finery. The three friends raced wildly through the forest on their custom built, four wheel pneumatic-drive, ATV’s, leaving the village of Oxmills and every care behind them. They raced along a centuries old leaf covered logging road in the Catskill Mountains that led after a few miles, to a steep and winding path up through the forest to their cabin. They laughed as they dodged and blocked each other and darted among the trees until they finally burst into the clearing near the top of the mountain. Tom, in a last desperate attempt to outdo his friends, spun his ATV in a 180 and stopped in front of the cabin. Leaping off, he scrambled onto the porch with Si at his heels. Throwing both his arms into the air, Tom loudly declared himself the winner, amid their unanimous, uproarious laughter. Si laid back onto the gray pine board porch. Bo walked up the steps onto the porch smiling and leaned on one of the posts that supported the roof. He stood for a quiet moment gazing in appreciation at the panorama of rounded mountains that stretched eastward before him, their tops glowing yellow in the last rays of the sun. He was happy to be again in the hills with his friends. All three men were of similar stature about five nine, dark hair and medium build. Tom was a little more the athlete than his friends. It was a condition he maintained by constant effort, believing it made him appear more formidable in court. Simon, seldom went to court, His time was spent in his windowless office, writing contracts, and in board rooms, trying to convince all the parties why it was definitely most advantageous for all of them to accept the contract as written. Boaz was the philosopher of the three. His practice in Albany involved mostly the pain and suffering of failed marriages, broken trusts and broken homes. The Catskills that late afternoon, except for their western tops that were lit up by the yellow sun, were dark and naked and even seemed a little forlorn without their wonderful autumn colors. The trees, now resting from the recent storm, waited as they did every autumn, for their pastel spring wardrobe to arrive. Even the occasional evergreen, hemlock and fir seemed out of place among the gray skeletal oaks, maples and hickories. The sharpness of the air foretold of early winter, and the expectation of the thick blanket of glorious white, that would soon cover the gloom. The forest was quiet except for the frequent chatter of squirrels, and the occasional squawk of a crow or the scream of a blue jay intent on maintaining their presence. Their small log cabin was the result of a common effort, born of a long tradition of camping on the mountain for Bow Hunting Season. It began when the three men were fellow law students. Several years after graduation they decided, rather than risk camping in the rain, again, they would pool their resources and have the cabin built on the mountain. The cabin became a favorite vacation retreat for them. Each of their families could stay there two weeks each summer. Some years they all camped around the cabin with tents, for the Forth of July or Labor Day. Those gatherings had helped cement the close relationships that had grown between all the members of their families. Their bow hunting outings were carefully planned and executed with a military precision, they were certain would be the envy of any general. That was really a kind of inside joke among them. Still, they managed to get to the cabin before sundown of the first Friday afternoon of October, every year. They spent the evening at the cabin preparing for the hunt on Saturday Morning. This October evening, Si stood on the porch after supper. He leaned against one of the porch roof support posts, looking out over the eastern horizon. “I love being up here.” He said to Boaz, who was leaning on the post by the other side of the steps, trying to free a piece of food from his teeth with a mint scented square wooden tooth pick. “I never get tired of looking at all those stars. We can’t even see them from Philadelphia, too much ambient light and air pollution. I think I’ll buy a telescope to bring up here next year. Maybe I can teach the kids how to recognize some of the stars and planets. After I learn how myself, that is.” Boaz smiled, nodded and said, “Yeah, I feel like I get a wider view of life from up here.” “Man, I love the smell of the air up here too.” Si added. I try to memorize it, so I can imagine it all winter in the office.” “Hey, now there’s an angle.” Tom said, as he stepped out onto the porch holding a cup of hot tea. “We can bottle that smell and sell it.” Bo laughed, “Yeah, Si can be our chief marketer.” “You know it.” Si chuckled. “I love that smell, I know it’ll sell.” “I love the peace of this place,” Bo said, still gazing out over the black hill tops toward the east. “This may be as near to heaven as you can get on this planet any more, no traffic, no trucks roaring, no sirens screaming, no neighbors loud music, no neighbor kids screaming.” “Hey, you know, I love the smell of venison cooking on my grill all winter.” Tom interjected. “Let’s get to bed. Dawn comes early up here. We don’t want those ‘white tails’ being late for their funerals.” The three of them laughed together and made their way into the cabin. Bo laid his cell phone on the wooden table built around the center post of the cabin, kicked off his shoes and climbed into his bunk. Si waited for Tom to get into his bunk and then, blew out the kerosene lantern that hung over the table. He used the light from his own cell phone to see his way to his bunk. “Good night Tom,” Bo said, “Good night Si.” “Good night Bo,” Si said. Tom said jokingly, in a high falsetto voice, “Good night John boy,” causing another round of laughter. The leaves would be soft and quiet in the morning because of the heavy dew that would collect on them during the night. But the sun would soon dry them out again and by noon they would loudly announce every foot that was set on them. That was another good reason to start early for the hunt. The deer knew the forest sounds, and quickly bound away from anything new or unusual. The cadence of a man walking through dried leaves had brought up many a white flag. The smart hunter would early find the deer’s territory and hide there, where he could watch the deer’s path to food and water. Even that sometimes failed if the flow of air shifted and brought the scent of the hunter to his quarry. They arose to the sound of Boaz’s cell phone alarm at 05:30. It was still mostly dark, with just a hint of gray on the horizon. They got out of their bunks and began to put on their hunting gear. Boaz took his bow with hunting arrows mounted on it along with his canteen outside and set them on the seat of his ATV that was parked in the woodshed with those of Tom and Si. After relieving himself in the woods beyond the woodshed he walked back into the cabin and washed his hands in a little white plastic basin in the sink. He walked back over to the table, where his towel hung on a wooden peg, to dry his hands. Si and Tom laid out their gear on their bunks against the North wall of the cabin. When he was through with those preparations, Tom cooked up their traditional hunting day breakfast of fried eggs with venison steak saved from the previous year’s hunt. “REVELATION 8:5 And the Angel took the censer and filled it with fire from the altar and cast it into the earth, and there were voices and thunderings and lightnings and an EARTHQUAKE.” They had just finished breakfast at 06:30 when suddenly they heard a strange deep groaning sound. The earth began to quiver and then to actually move wildly, rolling and shaking in a violent and astonishing manner. Boaz reached out to hold onto the center post of the cabin, but found he couldn’t reach it. His feet suddenly felt light and then instantly so heavy he thought his legs were collapsing into the floor of the cabin. This motion seemed to go on for a long time. Boaz scrambled to reach the center post of the cabin, thinking, if he could only hold on to that, he would be safe. He heard a great snap and a creaking sound and then all was black. He had no idea how long the wild moving of the earth had lasted, or how long he had lain in that silent blackness. There was an odor of broken and crushed rocks that he had never smelled there before. His head hurt. He thought his eyes were open but everything was still black as night. Gradually, his eyes adjusted and he began to see little specks of light around him. In a few more minutes he was able to remember his name and then he began to recall where he was. Little by little it came to him that he was laying face down on the broken and twisted floor of the cabin on Olivet Mountain. In a little while he began to realize that the cabin had collapsed and that he was inside under the roof. He began to feel about himself. He moved his hands, then his arms, then his feet and legs. Everything seemed ok, except for the awful headache. He felt his head all over with his hands. There was a bump, but it was dry, so he thought at least he wasn’t bleeding. He called out to his friends, “Tom, … Si, … you guys alright?” The effort caused more throbbing pain in his head. There was no answer. He called again and again, trying to ignore the pain. Finally he arose slowly feeling his way up through the blackness so as not to hurt his head again. When he was fully on his feet he could feel the inside of the roof just above his head. He worked his way downward along the slope of the roof until he was kneeling on the cabin floor under it. He lay down with his back on the floor and began to kick with his heels up against the boards of the roof. When they began to give way, he was grateful they had elected to build the roof with matched lumber rather than plywood. Boaz managed to pry, break and kick a hole in the roof large enough to squeeze his way out through. When he finally broke out into the light, he could see that all the walls of the cabin had collapsed. It became apparent that he had survived only because he had been standing in the middle of the cabin near the table, when the sides collapsed and the pyramid shaped roof fell like the cover of a great wicker basket. He was still stunned and disoriented as he crawled and squirmed out of the hole he had made, onto the roof of the cabin. He then let his body relax and slide the rest of the way down the slope of the roof until he was sitting on the ground, on the carpet of dried leaves. The cabin had collapsed toward the south. The heavy walls on the north side he feared might have collapsed on top of his friends. When he had rested a few minutes he walked all the way around the edge of the cabin. He quickly saw where the walls of the cabin had fallen flat against the floor and the whole floor of the cabin had been shaken from the support posts onto the ground. It was then he knew, his friends could not have survived under the bulk of those heavy logs. He quickly turned away and walked down away from the cabin toward the east, trying to catch his breath. Boaz sat down again on the ground where the front of the cabin had once stood. He had a sudden sense of being alone. As he thought of his dear friends, crushed under the walls of the cabin, he could not restrain his tears. He peered about, through his blurred vision, looking across the tops of the hills that now stood clear in the bright sun before him. The trees were leaning in every direction. Many had toppled over completely. He saw great wide plumes of black smoke rising above the distant horizon both in the South East and in the North East. “That could only be New York City and Albany,” he thought. “Albany!” That thought grabbed him like a constrictor, so that for several moments he struggled for breath. He had to get to his family in Schenectady. His mind raced. For a moment he stood and thought of running down the hill. Then he remembered the ATV in the wood shed. The three custom built, pneumatically driven, ultra quiet, All Terrain Vehicles were capable of going nearly forty five miles an hour with only a whisper of sound from their gasoline powered engines. That morning had been an exquisitely beautiful dream up to the moment it was turned into a hideous nightmare by the earthquake and the collapse of the cabin. He had enjoyed the traditional breakfast with his friends, before the hunt. Their preparations were as familiar to them as their friendship. But in a few awful minutes his life was changed, his friends were gone, and now he was gripped with the awful fear that the same unspeakable fate might have befallen his wife and children. As he stood there rubbing the tears from his eyes and face, he thought again of his friends, hopelessly buried under the heavy logs of the cabin. He wanted to get them out of there so they could have a decent burial. But again his mind was seized by the thought of his wife and children, possibly still alive, but trapped in their fallen home in Schenectady. He struggled for a moment with the feeling of guilt that came over him, as he thought of leaving his friends bodies where they were and going home to help his family. Then his eyes again fell upon the smoke rising from the distant cities including the one where he had left his family. “Oh my Lord”, he said aloud, and ran back up the hill, past the cabin, and climbed on top of the pile of rubble that had been the wood shed. He began tearing the fallen shed apart and throwing the fire wood off the ATV’s. When he had most of the wood and debris off his ATV, he found his bow still in the passenger seat, protected by the pipe frame and canopy. He started the ATV and backed it out over the heap of debris to level ground. He looked back at the place where his friends’ bodies lay under the weight of tons of logs. He knew they were dead. There was nothing he could do for them. Then, thinking only of his family in Schenectady, he drove the ATV as fast as he dared, down the steep path to the logging road. It was his good fortune that the way had remained mostly clear. Even though several trees were leaning almost onto the ground, they hadn’t come down far enough to block the road completely. In a few minutes he arrived at Oxmills Village. As he came down into the little village he could see that almost every one of the old brick buildings was completely collapsed. There were only a few corners and interior walls still partially erect and the condition was the same in all the frame houses. The Town Hall had been completely leveled. Even the great elms on the edge of the parking lot were horizontal. It was exactly what one would expect from an “Apocalyptic” movie scene of the end of the world. Power poles were laying on the ground some pointing one way, some pointing the other way, as though some giant had playfully knocked them down with his fingers in alternating directions. All the wires were broken and laying strewn chaotically in the street. He drove the ATV slowly down the street and across the parking lot, in front of the fallen city hall. He had to dodge the fallen trees, clumps of bricks, pieces of roofing, fallen power poles and many large jagged cracks in the pavement. He looked ahead toward where he had parked his car on the street side of the Town Hall parking lot. He was relieved to see his silver Audi safe and sound beside his two friends SUV’s, each with its low ATV hauler still attached. He thought again about getting help to recover his friends bodies from the cabin, but when he looked out at the village and watched for a moment as the few survivors searched through the rubble for family and neighbors, or sat on the sidewalk still in shock from the collapse of their homes and their town, he thought his friends bodies could maybe wait a little while. He loaded the ATV onto his trailer and attached the tie downs. As he went to start the car, he realized he didn’t have the key on him. There was a moment of panic before he remembered putting the key to the Audi in the tool box under the seat of the ATV. He drove the silver Audi glistening in the morning sun, with the ATV securely fastened onto its little trailer, slowly, delicately, through the village, back toward the north where the main street connected to the highway, across a deep and very steep black granite ravine. He searched ahead for a view of the old steel bridge. As he slowly passed by the villagers, he couldn’t help noticing an unexpected glimmer of something like resentment or even hatred in some of their eyes. A few made feeble gestures, as though begging for help, knowing, even in the act, that their pleas would be ignored. There were only three streets in the village. Main Street ran parallel with the railroad, which was on the edge of the stream, behind the row of large brick buildings that had collapsed. The other two streets ran perpendicular to Main Street. One ran on the northwest side of the town hall and was only a couple of blocks long. The other was parallel to that and ran straight into the woods from where Main Street went east across the railroad and the river gorge. Boaz turned the corner and crossed the tracks. Then he slammed on the brakes. There was no bridge across the river. It had collapsed into the gorge which was about thirty feet deep and nearly a hundred feet across. Overcoming his panic, he determined to drive down the tracks and cross the railroad bridge, which was about a half mile up the river and around a bend formed against a sheer cliff fifty feet high. But as he approached the place where the railroad bridge had been, he saw that it too had collapsed into the steep granite ravine. There were only two remaining options for getting out of the village. He could abandon the Audi and climb down the steep wall of the ravine, climb up the other side and walk to Schenectady, or he could unload the ATV and try to drive that home. He was afraid that driving the ATV all the way to Schenectady from Oxmills might not be possible without carrying extra fuel. Gradually a plan developed in his mind. He would park the car at the top of the hill where the old logging road turned off and take the ATV back to the cabin. There he could drain all the fuel from the other two ATVs into gas cans and tie them to his ATV. There were also three full, five gallon cans of fuel there already. They had been brought out with them so they could play with the ATVs while they were in the woods. With that much fuel he was sure he could get to Schenectady and back to the cabin again if he needed to. He backed the ATV off the trailer and made his way as fast as he dared back to the cabin. He gathered all the fuel and tied it to his ATV. Then he went back in through the roof of the cabin with a flashlight from the ATV. He managed to gather the rest of his hunting gear, some warmer clothes and some food and water, which he pushed out through the hole in the roof. He found his back pack and tied that stuffed with food and other things onto the ATV. As he worked in the collapsed cabin he felt ill at ease. It was an eerie discomfort that he had never felt there before. It was as though some evil enemy was there watching him, waiting for an opportunity to destroy him. He hurriedly completed his preparations, loaded his .357 revolver, and strapped it on under his suede jacket. He found the chain saw after moving more wood and rubble in the wood shed. He thought again of trying to free his friends’ bodies from the fallen cabin, but again thoughts of his family in dire need caused him to postpone the duty to his friends. After tying the saw onto the ATV with its own gas and oil cans, he sped away down the mountain again. This time he didn’t go down into the village but stayed in the woods around to the south side. The dam at the south end of town, below the Mill had been opened for years so there was no pond above it when the quake struck. Even so, the earth quake had made a crack in the dam that ran all the way from the bottom to the top and part of it had broken off and fallen into the stream bed below. He decided to find a way down the ravine below the dam where it wasn’t as steep and where the stream was shallow enough to allow the ATV across. He made his way as quietly as possible down into the valley below the dam and in a few minutes found a wide path made by the village children with their trail bikes. He followed that trail up the far side of the ravine onto the highway. It was only about fifteen minutes to Interstate 88 and then only110 miles to Schenectady. He could be home in a few hours. He wasn’t sure whether the police would run him off the interstate but he was ready to risk it, to get back to his family. It had been about four hours since the quake struck when Boaz finally got onto I-88 and headed for home. He forced the ATV up to forty miles per hour on the roadway. The interstate was surprisingly vacant, with no other moving traffic. There were a few cars and occasional trucks scattered along the road some in the road some in the ditch. As he sped along he saw several semi’s in a bunch all rolled onto their sides and deep gouges in the pavement, suggesting they had been dragged along the highway for a long way on their sides. A few people were gathered together at a place where an overpass had collapsed. He was forced to go down the embankment and run over the fence to get across to the other side so he could go on. He saw people working to rescue others from cars that had gone down with an overpass. He didn’t dare to stop but kept on. This situation was repeated a half dozen times before he reached Albany and Schenectady. On his way, Boaz passed one elderly couple who were obviously angry because he was driving an ATV on the Interstate. They shouted at him as he passed them, telling him he’d better get that thing off the highway or they would report him to the Police. They were disgusted when Boaz ran down the shoulder and over a fence to get around the broken overpass where they were stopped. They were even more outraged as he ran down the fence on the other side and came back up on the highway on the far side of the fallen overpass, so they again vainly tried to reach 911 to report his illegal activity. One young couple who had narrowly missed going over the edge of a fallen overpass, flagged him down and asked if he knew how long it would be before the emergency crews would get to them. “There’s a lot of damage to the highway.” Boaz patiently told them. “It could take days for help to get here to you folks. You might be wiser to try to get down off this road on your own. If you would turn around and go back down this road about ten miles you can go down the on ramp. There’s a very high probability that the emergency crews may be completely overwhelmed. There are so many people buried and trapped in collapsed buildings and under rubble. There are so many injuries, so much damage, the rescue people may be so overwhelmed, it could be weeks before they come up here.” Their eyes took on a frightened, helpless look. They looked at each other and at the small child still strapped into his car seat. “Do you think we can get down this hill without rolling over?” The young man asked. “I have to say it’s worth a try”, Boaz said. “If you don’t get off this road and to a place where you can get food and water for your family you may die here anyway. I really think that waiting here for help is unwise.” With that he made his way down the embankment and ran over another fence, bending the metal fence posts flat against the ground. He secretly vowed to himself he would not stop again for anyone else until he was certain his own family was safe and well. He saw there was nothing he could do for these people anyway. The highway near Schenectady was no longer a road, it was a great blockade. All the overpasses where I-88 and I-90 intersected were sandwiched, forming a barrier that a mountaineer might see as formidable. He went south along I-90 for a mile or so and found a place where he could get across just beyond another fallen overpass. From there he followed the railroad down to Curry road and then worked his way from street to street, several times retracing his path until he could find a street that was passable, to his home on Inner Drive. The place looked like pictures of Hiroshima after the atom bomb. Every house that wasn’t entirely flat was mostly collapsed. Not a single home remained that could provide viable shelter for the winter. The land in some places had been pushed up into sharp wrinkles two or three feet high. The strange view made it difficult to know where he was. There were none of the landmarks he was used to. Even the trees had fallen over, and there were only a few street signs still standing. His home was atop a fairly high hill, when he left it. He was shocked to see the hill itself looked as though it was much lower after the quake. There was a deep crevice more than half way around it. He would have wondered about this amazing circumstance, if his mind weren’t so fixed on the wellbeing of his family. He found his home along with his neighbors’ homes, collapsed and no longer on the top of the hill but on the much lowered slope. It seemed later in the afternoon than it actually was, because of the great clouds of smoke obscuring the sun. Boaz drove the ATV up to the Kitchen Door on the south end of his house in front of the garage. HOME Panic gripped him. His heart was pounding. It felt as though the pressure would burst the blood vessels in his head, as he drove up to his collapsed home. The separate door from outside into the kitchen was the only remaining way into the house. Boaz tried the door, it was locked. He picked up a piece of 2x4 from the driveway next to the garage to break the glass with. He hesitated long enough to call out his wife’s name, “Ruth… Ruth are you in there? Jesse, Deb is anybody in there?” Just as he was about to break the glass, the door moved. He looked around the edge of the door, and saw his wife’s face in the dim light, about the level of the door knob. There was a burst of vocal activity from his family inside, His wife stood up and opened the door wide. “Bo!” she called out with a sigh of relief. His seventeen year old son and fifteen year old daughter leaped to their feet and embraced him with the words, “Daddy its really you!” “We thought we would never see you again!” Boaz moved into the kitchen with his whole family clinging to him. Jesse and Deborah released their father and stepped back. “Man, are we glad to see you!” Jesse said. Ruth continued to cling to him sobbing on his shoulder. He held her for a few minutes and then gently released her. She took hold of one of his hands and wiped her eyes and face with her other hand. “There were robbers around here only a couple of hours ago.” She told him. “They went from house to house wherever they didn’t see any signs of life.” “Yeah,” Jesse inserted. “We were ready for ‘em though. We had 2x4’s to beat ‘em on the head with. They looked like druggies from the East side.” Ruth spoke up again, “They were more like vultures picking over the bodies of the dead. The whole thing was horrible. But we would have beat them senseless if they’d come here.” Boaz Smiled. “I’m proud of your courage and your determination to defend yourselves.” “What are we gonna do Daddy?” Deborah sobbed, taking hold of his free arm with both of her hands. “Well, I’m not sure. I’m so relieved to find you all well and safe. Maybe we need to sit down and examine our options.” The four of them sat down on the white tiled kitchen floor with their backs against the wall. “Jesse, can you and Deb go out real quick and pile some debris on top of the ATV to hide it?” “Sure Dad.” Jesse said. “Come on Deb.” They went out leaving the door open. Once the children were outside the door, Ruth inquired, “How are Si and Tom?” . Boaz looked solemnly down at the floor. “The cabin fell on top of them.” She recoiled a little and then leaned her head on his shoulder again, the tears silently trickling down her cheeks. Jesse and Deborah returned from covering the ATV, and sat down on the floor again, this time using the cushions they had salvaged from the couch earlier. “I think maybe we need to get out of here, right away.” Boaz stated. “I don’t see how we can survive here this winter like this. Every hour conditions are getting worse. ” “Where can we go? How can we go?” Ruth asked. “The SUV is buried in the Garage.” “Sweetheart, the roads are so bad we wouldn’t be able to use the SUV anyway. It was all I could do to find a way down here from the interstate with the ATV. It looks to me like the area west of here was pushed up a lot, by the earthquake.” Boaz told her. “Where’s the Audi? You didn’t drive that toy all the way here from Oxmills, did you?” “I had to. It was the only way I could get out of there. The bridges out of Oxmills were all collapsed. I could have tried to drive west through the woods around the mountain. But even if the Audi made it through the bogs, it wouldn’t have gone far on the Interstate. All the bridges and overpasses are fallen. The roads are like an impassable maze. I was the only one moving on the road. Every one else was stopped at a fallen overpass or bridge. The only other way to travel is to use a bicycle, or walk.” “Do we have anything to eat here? I’m beginning to feel a little weak. I haven’t had anything but water since breakfast. I should have brought my back pack in. I’ve got some food in that.” Boaz said. “The power‘s been out since the quake. The electric stove won’t work. The freezer’s buried in the Garage, we can’t get to it. The refrigerator is still cool, but only because the weather’s been chilly all day. We can still use the food in it though. We have some canned food and some dry foods in the kitchen cabinets. There’s more canned foods and some bottled water in the laundry room.” Ruth said. “I can open a can of spaghetti or some beans for you, if you can eat it cold.” “Ok, can we have some nice wine with it?” He asked jokingly. “No, I’m sorry dear, all the wine bottles broke in the earthquake.” She responded soberly. “We’ll need all our food and water and our camping gear too. Can we get at the machetes and that white nylon line under the workbench in the garage?” “I think I can crawl in there Dad.” Jesse said. “We need to find all the rest of my ammo too. I need all my arrows, even the target arrows. We’ll need those battery powered lanterns. Does anyone remember where we stored that little battery powered radio?” “We can’t afford to wait here at all. I think we need to get ready tonight and leave early in the morning, as soon as we can see where we’re going. On the way here today I saw some very disturbing things.” He said. “We saw some very disturbing things right here.” Ruth added. “This place is really destroyed. I think it’ll be a very, very, long time before this place will be habitable again. Albany looks like it’s completely destroyed and it’s still in flames. The bridges and overpasses everywhere are all collapsed. It will be at least six months before anyone will be able to get a truck down any of those roads. Some of the roads are even broken up. There are wide gaps in them at all angles. That means the only possible ways to get food and water in here will be, to either fly it in by helicopter, or backpack it in. I don’t think there’s enough helicopters in the world to feed this many people for six months. I saw smoke, a lot of smoke, rising way south of here. That could only be New York. The whole northeast might have been destroyed today. I don’t think anybody is going to see us as valuable enough to even try to help us. I think they will let us all die right where we are. From what I saw the destruction covers an immense area. There has to be millions of people either trapped or dead or in the same homeless condition we’re in. I think the dead are going to lay right where they are, because nobody is going to dig them out to bury them. This place will soon smell so bad that nobody will be able to live here. There will be diseases that will come from the bodies too.” “We’ve only got food and water for a few days at most dear,” Ruth said. “Well that’ll have to get us down to I-95 at least. I think our best chance is to go to Florida. I shouldn’t have any trouble getting a new position there and I’ve heard there are plenty of nice homes in the Orlando area for sale. So what d’ya’ say, shall we get ready to go?” “Wow! That’ll be a great adventure. New York to Disney World on an ATV. I’ll go!” Jesse said excitedly. “We need to get all our stuff together here in the kitchen tonight. Things will be a lot easier if we organize it so we can access what we need on the way and then before dawn we will need to uncover the ATV and tie everything onto it. Is that little trailer behind the garage still OK?” “I hadn’t thought to look at it,” Ruth said. “I’ll go check it out right now.” Jesse said, as he jumped up and ran out the door. He was back in a moment, “Yup its just fine. You think we can haul it with the ATV all the way to Florida?” “I think we need something to haul our stuff in. That’s all we have, so we can try it, and see how it goes.” Boaz responded. “I pulled it around to the front of the garage next to the ATV.” Jesse informed his father. “Thank you Jesse. We should try to find a tire pump too I think.” “We’ll need to use my watch as an alarm clock. My cell phone has been useless since the quake. Is that little notebook computer still working?” “Yes the kids were playing games on it earlier this afternoon.” Ruth said. “Good. We need to sleep until about five o’clock. We can charge it with the ATV tomorrow on the way, so we can use the Maps n’ GPS in it. We need to be on the road as soon as we can see where we’re going. I figure we should be able to make at least twenty five miles an hour. I think its about 1200 miles to Florida from here, so we should be able to make it there in five or six days if we travel ten hours a day.” They sat together on the floor eating and listening to their little radio. A station on Long Island was broadcasting, the announcer had apologized for the weak signal resulting from the fact that he was broadcasting on a jury rigged antennae. He went on to say. “This station is being powered by a diesel generator. We have no idea how long the power will last. We’re located on the northeast end of Long Island, very near the New London ferry terminal. The devastation all around us is overwhelming. There have been people standing in line here all day today, moving toward the ferry, trying to get off the island. It appears from the stories some of them have shared with us, that we didn’t suffer nearly as much damage here as the southwest end of the island and New York City. Our studio was partly knocked down and the regular antennae collapsed during the earth quake. We’re only on the air now because some neighbors stopped by, and helped set up a makeshift antennae, using the main part of the old one, tied with ropes, onto a part of the old mast that didn’t fall in the quake.” Boaz and his family ate bread with jam and butter along with cold spaghetti from a can. They drank milk and orange juice. They sliced up a block of sharp cheddar and ate that with crackers. The radio announcer said, “The government this afternoon reported sending out planes with special equipment that could see through the dark and the smoke, to assess the damage from the quake in New York City. A government spokesman also reported that they were studying images from a satellite showing that New York City is extensively damaged, and must be quarantined until the smoke clears and cleanup can start. I have an extraordinary gentleman here with me now, who says he was in New York City when the Earthquake struck. Bill, will you tell us again what you saw in the city and how you got out, after the quake?” “I was jogging along the East River, near the UN building when the quake struck. I held on to a tree, even after the tree fell over. The whole city, all the buildings fell down. There was so much noise and dust. It was … I can’t even describe it. I have no words for it. I watched the buildings wave back and forth like rubber pencils and then they just started breaking up and falling down in big pieces. I had to turn away, I couldn’t watch any more. I knew there were people in some of those buildings, people I know, friends of mine. The island tipped up from the East River. I think the whole island is now slanted toward New Jersey. After the quake stopped, I went down as far as the Brooklyn Bridge, but all the bridges had collapsed into the east river. I didn’t even dare to look at the tunnels. Roosevelt Island is gone, completely underwater. I came across to long island from Manhattan on a raft I made from some wooden pallets tied together. I walked and jogged north on the island to get to the Ferry. It took me all day to get here.” “Did you see any other people in New York?” “There’s nothing left of New York City, only smoldering rubble. I saw a few other people moving about, but most of the people are buried under the fallen sky scrapers. There’re people working all the way up Long Island, to get their family and neighbors out of the collapsed buildings.” “Thank you Bill. We’ve just received another government report a few minutes ago. It says the quake was the strongest ever recorded on the American Continent. The destruction has been so widespread and so intense that it is expected to take weeks, possibly months, just to survey the quake area and determine the extent of the damage. We’ve talked with several other people who have worked their way north from where they could actually see New York City right after the quake. All of them said the same thing, that the whole city is completely gone. All the buildings are reduced to rubble and it looked like the whole of Manhattan Island is on fire. Brooklyn, the Bronx and Harlem were flattened also, and there are still many fires out of control on Long Island. “Wait, what’s this? My engineer has just handed me another government report received over the Short Wave Radio. Let’s see, it says, … ‘The President has issued an order declaring Marshall Law for the entire area from Boston Massachusetts, to, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, and from the area five miles east of Syracuse, New York to ten miles off shore. No one is allowed into that area until further notice, without passing through a Federal check point. Emergency Procedures are being implemented by the US Coast Guard for all approaches to those areas from seaward. Navy, Air Force and Army aircraft will be flying reconnaissance and interdiction missions over the affected area to prevent any looting efforts from being launched. There is hereby instituted a curfew in the affected area. No one is allowed on any street within the area except emergency, rescue and relief teams, who have valid permits from FEMA. The U.S. Marshal’s office is hereby authorized to employ all available forces including all local, and state police, all sheriffs, all National Guard Units and any other available civil or military units, to enforce this curfew order for the protected area. Anyone remaining in the affected area, past 17:00 hours this afternoon, must remain in, or in the immediate vicinity of, their own home, or they will be arrested. Anyone offering any resistance to the enforcement of the curfew may be summarily shot by the officers. Looters, caught in the act, are to be shot on sight.’ This reporter has never heard of such a strong curfew before. This order could cause people who are trying to leave the area, to abandon even their own property, out of fear of being mistaken for looters. This report goes on to say, ‘US Armed Forces helicopters will be dropping relief supplies within the area beginning at daylight in the Morning. National Guard teams are authorized to aid refugees from the area and to act with police authority to prevent looting.’ Ladies and gentlemen we repeat our earlier report, that, all the bridges and tunnels into New York City and Long Island have all collapsed. There were no bridges across the Hudson River, the East River, the Harlem River or across Long Island Sound. The Staten Island bridge is also down. The only way on or off Manhattan Island is by boat or by swimming, unless you’re able to obtain passage on a helicopter. We do have a witness who claims to have some news about one method of escaping from Manhattan. George? Is that what you said your name is?” “Yes.” “Will you tell our listeners what you heard about the helicopters landing on Manhattan this morning?” “Well, I wasn’t there. I heard it on a VHF scanner at the airport. There were some people from Bridgeport, Connecticut, a few commercial helicopter pilots, had been picking up people from Central Park in New York and taking then to Bridgeport. They were charging big fees. But the government ordered them to stop operating because, they said, of fears, the private choppers would interfere with the military helicopters operating in the same area. That’s all I know actually. I heard they took quite a few people off of Manhattan, but now everybody has to wait for the government to help them.” “Thank you George. This just came to me from another person who walked up the island today. The ferry terminal to Bridgeport was completely destroyed in the earthquake. The ships are all sunk. He said he was waiting for the ferry this morning, and watched as the quake started, the ship rolled over and sank only about a mile from the terminal. Both ferries to New London, Connecticut are still operating, but, with only two ships. They are reportedly carrying loads far exceeding their design capacity on every trip. Everyone on Long Island is being advised by FEMA, to take the ferry to New London, where refugee centers were being established. Government helicopters were being used to aid the evacuation of the south end of Long Island, earlier this afternoon, but their operations were suspended as the sun went down. It looks like no one else will be flying off of Manhattan at least until tomorrow morning. I have no reports at all of whether any helicopters or other aircraft taking people from Long Island. Well my engineer has signaled me that we are already getting low on diesel fuel for the generator, so we’ll be signing off until tomorrow morning at 06:00, unless we can find some more diesel fuel. So long for now neighbors,” the announcer said just before the signal stopped. [Exodus Day 1] That night on the kitchen floor was the darkest they had ever known. But they were all well and together. They spent the night huddled together in sleeping bags sitting on sofa cushions retrieved from the living room, that had been buried under the collapsed house. In the morning it was colder than the evening before. They worked in the semi light to get their things loaded onto the ATV. Boaz knew the destruction of the highways and railroads would make it impossible for aid to reach the people in that area for a very long time. There were so many victims and refugees all at once, spread over such a wide area that local fire and rescue companies were completely overwhelmed. Even the Police and Sheriff Departments were unable to add much to the relief efforts. There were probably hundreds of thousands if not, millions of dead in the collapsed houses and tenements, that would begin to decompose within a couple of days. Rats and other vermin would very soon swarm over the whole area and could cause a new black plague which would destroy those who remained alive in the cities. The five foot square, green, aluminum, garden trailer had two foot high wooden rails, in the front and on the sides. Boaz connected it to the ATV and they all loaded every thing they thought they would need. They loaded cans and boxes of food, bottles of drinking water, blankets, clothes, defense weapons with ammunition, and first aid kits. Boaz threw three plastic tarps on top of the load, that Jesse had rescued from the collapsed garage, and then tied everything down. When all was secured, they set out following the track Boaz used coming home the previous day. He expected the government might interfere with them if they got too near New York City, because of marshal law, and he instinctively knew it was always safer to avoid cities in times of trouble. They planned to stay up in the mountains, going down through Pennsylvania on I-81 and eventually get onto Skyline Drive at Front Royal, Virginia. They intended to travel South on the Blue Ridge Parkway to Ashville, North Carolina. From there they hoped to work their way down through Georgia into Florida on I-75. There they hoped to live in milder weather for the winter. “We can hunt deer, maybe even wild geese and turkeys, all the way to Florida.” Boaz said, as they rode along on the ATV, making their way out of the destroyed city. The little trailer bounced along behind them. “There are plenty of deer in the Carolinas, I’ve heard. Georgia is overrun with them and someone said hundreds of them are killed every year by truckers in Florida. So we should have plenty to eat. Besides that, there are still vegetable and citrus crops ready for harvest in Georgia and Florida. Maybe we can stop and help with the harvest to pay for our own food. We’ll just get jobs on one of those farms and stay there for the winter. Winters are much milder in Florida or even in south Georgia, than in New York.” Ruth sat without speaking for a long while. Her gaze frequently raised to view the strange white sky. Finally she asked, “What is causing that weird milky sky? It’s not going to snow is it?” Boaz glanced up for an instant, and then with an expression of concern on his face, looked at his wife and said, “I don’t know. I think it’s not cold enough to snow yet. Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a sky like that before.” Deborah rode on the fender behind her father with her back leaning against the canopy support frame. Jesse rode on the opposite fender behind his mother. They had to keep their feet on the pile of stuff stacked in the back of the ATV. That position was not new to them, because they had many times ridden to the cabin that way in years past. They were on their way. Even the ravages of a terrible disaster could not dampen the excitement they felt about the great adventure they were on. Boaz felt deeply grateful that his family had been spared and that they had such a positive and fair prospect before them, when, so much of the world around them was in such an awful hopeless state. The thought of his dear friends, lying dead under the fallen cabin, again brought tears to his eyes. He was determined to call their families as soon as the cell phone was working again. For now he tried to think only of the road ahead and of the plan for the safety and well being of his family and their new home in Florida.