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By Root 5432 0

couple of guys. The granola crew, they were called, and though they were mildly disdained before "the Day," no one mocked them now. Most of them were outdoor ed or bio majors and had become highly proficient at food gathering, knowing which roots to dig, which plants could be brewed into teas, which had some medicinal value. One of the girls had a copy of Peterson's guide to plants, dirty and worn, in her jeans pocket. Another girl was carrying a basket filled with mushrooms. So far there had been no mistakes on that score. Another was being helped by a boy, the woven basket between them piled high with greens. The boy and girl looked like some Rousseau ideal, a fantasy of the way the world was supposed to be if civilization went away.

The antique World War II jeep, which Tom had designated his official squad car, turned the corner and pulled up to Gaither. Barber got out along with Tom and they came straight in.

Barber saw the cigarette in John's hand and sighed.

"Damn, I haven't had one of those in years...," he said softly. "John, could I?"

John hesitated, nodded, and handed one over. He was now down to eleven.

Don took a deep drag, sighed, went over to the table, and sat down. "They're coming," he said. No one spoke.

"Old Fort is a wreck. I flew down there first. At least fifty vehicles loaded with," he paused, took another drag, and then waved his hand in a gesture of disgust, "I can't even find a word to describe the scum. They were in the center of the town, most of it burning. There's fighting going on, even now, but that town is finished."

He sighed and looked out the window.

"Shit, it was like Korea in '51. If only I had a battery of 105s up here, we could have annihilated their advance guard with one salvo." "Advance guard?" Washington asked.

Barber nodded.

"Give me a minute, Washington; my brain's a bit slower now. Let me tell it in order." No one spoke.

"Like I said, about fifty vehicles. Most in the center of the town, those barbarians just running amok. I could see them gunning people down, right in the middle of the street, flushing them out of buildings they were setting on fire. Out on the interstate about ten more vehicles. They took a couple of potshots at me; you'll see a dozen or so holes in my plane by the way.

"So I figured to check up the road, fly up along Route 70, then come back down along the interstate. There wasn't much on 70, though it was obvious they had passed along it. Buildings burning, but a couple hundred yards back from the road I could see people out, still alive. It looked like they just were driving straight through. Marion wasn't hit hard. Just off the interstate enough, I guess, to be bypassed, plus they had well-manned roadblocks on the access ways in. Some evidence of fighting but looks like the scum backed off."

"Think they'll back off here?" Tom asked.

"No," John said forcefully. "First off, their spies have scoped us out; they know we still do have some resources. Second, to get into Asheville, a sweet big city to loot, they first have to go through us. Third, they are heading this way and there is now no backing off. Marion they might mark for later, but I think it's here first."

Washington nodded his agreement.

"What happened next, Don ?" John asked.

"I pushed on to Morganton, down to Exit 103 on the interstate."

He lowered his head.

"I thought Charlotte was bad when I flew around it back when things started. That was different, though. In Charlotte there was rioting, yes, but people were mostly just trying snatch and grab, or just getting the hell out. This was different."

"How so, sir?" John asked.

"You know the mental hospital grounds there?"

All nodded. Broughan, the state mental hospital, was set back from the interstate about half a mile. Beautiful open lawn, surrounded by the old sedate southern town of Morganton, complete with some antebellum homes on the main street.

"A fucking nightmare."

John was shocked by Don's language. He was a devout church-going man.

"How bad?" Washington asked.

"My God, I think they're killing people and eating