Reboot
Chapter 51

I yelled at William. “Where are we?”

“We’re flying in between Waldport and Florence, over the Siuslaw National Forest and one hundred kilometers straight to Veneta, a small town of about six thousand people before the war. Two thousand now.” He screamed back. I nodded.

After a short thirty-minute ride we flew above Veneta. It was completely unscathed. Like nothing happened. Except for the wall. It hadn’t been affected by disease or gangs because it was too far away from any damage. Order had been kept, it had been fenced in and guarded. The wall was made of concrete and barbed wire and stood about four meters high. We could see two gates, one in the West and one in the East, and guard towers all along about two hundred meters from each other. It was well protected. People stopped everywhere and stared at us. Some waved.

We kept flying East.

Eugene, which was only twenty-three kilometers further east, was a different story. It hadn’t been hit, but since it was a big town by Oregon standards, we found out later that many survivors had gone there and the city had been overrun. It succumbed to the pressure. Angry mobs tore the place apart. Disease set in. People ran away from the diseases towards other cities where they were obviously turned away. They all died. My guess was that Veneta had survived by secluding itself successfully, but it must have been a nightmare. Today, Eugene, Oregon was empty. Deserted.

We went back towards Veneta and landed about two kilometers away in a clearing in the forest. We wanted the helo to stay hidden.

________________

We walked toward the town.

“Damn!” I exclaimed.

“What?” asked Dutch.

“If we tell these people about Mooney, then we’re putting all of them in danger aren’t we?” I said.

“Yes. But what other option do we have?” said William.

Dutch just listened.

“What about that plan about radio? What if we did like those old pirate radio groups and broadcast everywhere?”

“I’m gonna start calling you “Plan B, Morgan,” said Dutch.

“He’s right isn’t he?” asked William.

“Of course,” Dutch sighed.

“What’s our story then? We were going to go in there and ask to talk to the mayor so we could show him your data. Can we still do that? Don’t we need another story? Hell they might not even let us in.”

“What if we said we’re working for the government remapping or something and we crashed,” said Dutch. I answered that it would work for a little while. But someone would want to see our helo at some point. Or call in to discuss with higher authorities.

“What if we only talked to the mayor? No one else? Would they let us in?” I asked.

“Only one way to replace out.”

We kept walking. I was in front, deep in thought, my friends were walking together

behind me playing a game.

“Best insult.”

“You’re the son of a thousand fathers.”

“I remember that,..um..The Good the Bad and the Ugly. Great movie.”

“Actually when you were born, the doctor slapped your mother.”

“Oh, I love that one.”

“Best singing voice”.

“Lassie”! Hands down.

“OK. I can see that. Emotion, devotion, passion, intelligence, which all compensate for lack of range. One point.”

“Worst ending?”

“Oh that’s easy. Titanic.”

“I don’t remember that. How did it end again?”

“Crazy old lady feeds a zillion dollar diamond to the fishes. Coulda fed Africa for a year, but no, she gives it to a ghost instead.”

“Ok. I’ll give you that one. Though Superman is really stupid. You know when he decides to save his girlfriend from death by spinning backwards around the Earth real fast to turn back time? That’s a doozy”.

“Best house”.

“Mmmmm. Psycho? A house hiding a deadly secret? ”

“Not even close. Come ooon.. The Shining!”

“Ah, of course. A zombie house with a sense of dark humor. You’re right.”

“Stop agreeing with me. Yer pissin me off.”

“Ok.”

“Grrrr.”

“Best line”.

“Soylent Green is people!”

“Ah yes. A desperate sad realization shouted in one last hopeless cry for humanity. Angst. But nah. My fave is: “There are two kinds of people in the world, those with guns and those who dig.” It defines our universe don’t you think?”

“Both good, both good. There was another line I liked in “Lawrence of Arabia”: When the man on a motorcycle drives up and screams: Who are youuuu?”

“Good one, good one..”

“Best dog? And you can’t say Lassie. You’ve used that one up.”

“The Tramp”.

Nope. No cartoons.

“Old Yeller.”

“Ok, that’s a good one. A man’s best friend with man’s best qualities who dies for loyalty. But I’m partial to Toto myself.”

“Puhleaaase.”

“I know, I know… I’m a Toto man.”

I smiled. I couldn’t imagine being without these guys anymore. I felt that we formed a

solid pack. William was more quiet, stable, strong, wise, not a leader, but a fantastic man to have your back. Dutch was wild, goofy, impulsive, driven. They were both loyal and fierce. Cogs in a streamlined machine.

I think I was the glue. They were the type of men who need to make a difference, to have a substantive goal and they found that here, with me, and together they brought out the best in me. I hoped I wouldn’t let them down.

thirty minutes later we were in front of a large double door blocking our way into Veneta. We just stood there not really knowing what to do.

“Hello?” I said.

Nothing.

“HELLOOOOOOO???” I had a dark thought that nobody was there, or that they just didn’t bother manning the doors. But Finally...

“Yep?” We saw a face above the wall. An older man with flimsy white greasy hair.

“We’d like to come in please if that’s alright,” I said.

“Nope. Sorry man.” He had a faint California Valley girl accent. Every sentence ended with a rise in pitch. I looked at Dutch and then at William.

“We have a message for your Mayor,” I screamed. The man came back, exasperated. “OK, then, like, give it to me, Dude.”

“I’m afraid it’s private. His eyes only. If he doesn’t like the message, he can just toss us out again, or shoot us..”

(Silence)……

“I’m the Mayor,” said the guardian exasperatingly.

“No you’re not,” I said.

“Yep. Mayor. That’s me.” He sounded drunk.

“You don’t look like a mayor.”

“Whatever, dude. That’s a shame though. What does a Mayor look like?”

“A mayor would look very upset if he knew you were keeping him from getting his message. You’re not the mayor.”

“No. I’m not, that’s true. But, oh my God, man, I should be. I’m sure I’d be a very good mayor. Things would get totally done around here that’s fer sure. Like that time when Mrs. Warner needed her pipes unplugged. Not her pipes of course, the pipes in her house...

Excuse me, what did you want?” I smiled. Not sure if he was having fun with us, or if he was truly losing his mind.

“To see the Mayor please.”

“Ah yes, of course, please put all your weapons down, alright? Then take 4 steps away from them and lie face down on the ground with your hands behind your head.”

Ok, so he had been toying with us. We did as we were told. And two men popped out above the wall and we heard the click-clack of guns cocking. Then the doors opened a crack and two other men came out and took William away. Dutch and I were left there. We waited about fifteen minutes, then the same two men came to get Dutch. I looked up at the wall. The two guns were still there pointed at me. I waited another fifteen minutes and then they came for me. They were all covered up in white medical garb; gloves, masks, glasses. Protection. But against what?