Similarly, when the last President of the United States was warned that California Governor Sarandon had assembled a coalition of western states and was preparing to secede, his true reply was, “She doesn’t have the balls.”
— From An Unlikely Phoenix by Reed Ambrose
RYAN WOKE WHEN THE car stopped. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. “What is it?”
“I’m not sure.” Nathalie’s voice was taut and fraught with exhaustion.
The car in front of them was at a full stop. Ryan noticed a long line of cars spread out on the roadway ahead. “Where are we?” he said. “Are we to Reno yet?”
“Through it,” Nathalie said.
“How long ago?”
“About twenty minutes ago.”
Ryan tried to remember how far it was from the California border to Reno. He and Alex had taken a road trip once years ago, but he hadn’t paid close attention. “Twenty minutes?” he repeated quietly. That seemed about right to him. But there was so much traffic.
Then he noticed that all of the stopped traffic was only westbound lanes. Across the median, a few cars whizzed past eastbound, but westbound traffic was at a standstill.
“Something’s wrong,” Ryan said. He opened the car door, but Nathalie grabbed his arm.
“Wait.”
“I’ll be okay, Nat. Just wait here, okay?”
Nathalie gave him a dubious look, but relented.
Ryan got out of the car and looked forward and back. There were a half dozen cars stacked up behind them now. He turned away and looked forward. The cars stretched for at least a half mile. In the distance, he could see the blue and red lights of a police cruiser.
He started walking.
After he passed a dozen or so vehicles, he came to a semi-truck. The driver had turned off his engine, and sat on the huge step leading up to the cab, his arms crossed while he smoked a cigar.
“What’s happening?” Ryan asked him. He figured the driver had a CB in his truck and would have news, and he wasn’t disappointed.
“The crazy bitch did it,” the driver told him.
“Who?”
“The Governor.” The driver took a puff on his cigar, blew it out, then spat. “She did it. California seceded. And good goddamn riddance.”
Ryan blinked, taking in the information. Woodenly, he asked, “When?”
“A couple of hours ago,” the trucker told him. “And not just California, either. Hawaii, Alaska, Oregon, and even Washington. All of ‘em.”
Ryan swallowed, then motioned toward all the vehicles. “So what’s going on here?”
The trucker peered at Ryan, contempt plain on his face. “What do you think? The border’s shut down.”
“From which side?” Ryan asked.
The trucker snorted. “Both sides. It’s a mess, and I’ll tell you this. We aren’t going anywhere for a while.”
Ryan resisted the urge to ask more question. Instead, he mumbled his thanks, and limped back the way he’d come. As he walked, he pulled out the pre-paid phone Nathalie had bought in Denver and texted his brother. There was no need for subterfuge any longer, so he sent the simple text directly to Alex’s personal phone.
We’re stranded at the border.
When he returned to the car, Nathalie had exited the driver’s seat and stood in the open doorway.
“What is it?” she asked. “An accident or something?”
“No,” he said, and he told her. As he spoke, her face became ashen, and she covered her mouth.
“Oh, mon Dieu, Ryan. It is really happening, isn’t it?”
“It is,” he said, and took her in his arms. She trembled as he held her. He looked over her shoulder at their sleeping daughter in the back seat of the car. Melina’s face was peaceful, unblemished with concern.
When Nathalie pulled away from his embrace, he was both surprised and heartened to see that her eyes were dry, and her expression was resolute. “What do we do now?” she asked.
Ryan took a deep breath and let it out. “We find a way,” he said. “Just like everyone else.”
Nathalie took his hands in hers and squeezed. “All right,” she said. “All right.”
“We find a way,” Ryan repeated. Then he added, “There’s still time.”
Epilogue
When the crisis of 2029 gave way to the tumultuous 2030s, complete with brinksmanship, threats, and ugly politics, singer/songwriter Nathan Crider wrote that, “the last of what was truly America faded into hatred and mist, like a longtime lover who forgets how it is to be kissed.” As written here, the lyrics have a somewhat clunky feel to them, but surviving recordings of the bluesman singing them against the backdrop of his signature guitar style have a bittersweet, almost heart-wrenching quality. It is fitting that a uniquely American form of art – the blues – serve as a vehicle to document the passing of an era, and indeed, the passing of a nation.
As Daniel McCollough masterfully chronicles in his classic 2076 work Desolation Averted, the face of North America was irreparably changed by the secession of California and its sister states in 2029. The events that followed throughout the 2030s were brutal ones, marking this time period as one of the most precarious, not just for America, but for the world.
But that is another story, and better told by another historian.
— From An Unlikely Phoenix by Reed Ambrose
I’d like to thank a few people for helping me get through this book:
Ashley and Danji for great ideas of events and near future elements to include in this story.
For their careful reads: Jill Maser, Dave Mather, Colin Conway, Brad Hallock, Brian Triplett, John Emery, Silver Chan, and Jackie Reynolds. Your individual and collective feedback was invaluable, and I’m truly grateful. I know this was a tough one for each of you, although perhaps tough for different reasons for different people. Regardless, you all tackled it like champions, and your thoughtful replies made this a better book than it would have otherwise been.
And for her unwavering faith and support, Kristi.
So thank you, one and all.
Frank Zafiro
January 2018
Also by Frank Zafiro
River City
Under a Raging Moon
Heroes Often Fail
Beneath a Weeping Sky
And Every Man Has to Die
River City Short Stories
Dead Even
No Good Deed
The Cleaner
Sandy Banks
The Last Horseman
Stefan Kopriva Mystery
Waist Deep
Lovely, Dark, and Deep
Friend of the Departed
Standalone
Some Degree of Murder
In the Shadow of El Paso
At This Point in My Life
Chisolm's Debt
At Their Own Game
Good Shepherd
The Trade Off
The Bastard Mummy
Fallen City
An Unlikely Phoenix (Coming Soon)
Watch for more at Frank Zafiro’s site.
About the Author
Frank Zafiro was a police officer from 1993 to 2013. He is the author of more than twenty crime novels. In addition to writing, Frank is an avid hockey fan and a tortured guitarist. He lives in Redmond, Oregon.
Read more at Frank Zafiro’s site.