Free Alea Jacta Est: A Novel of the Fall of America (Future History of America Book 1) by Marcus Richardson Page B

knowledge that there were
more retired people than any other age group.  ‘The land of newlyweds and
mostly-deads,’ as the saying went. 
    He figured
most people would probably just go to bed, expecting everything to be better
the next day.  Or, at least expecting the people in charge to know more about
what was going on.  Maybe they would have a better explanation tomorrow.  That
had even been the thought process of a few people in the apartment complex. 
Erik shook his head at the fallacy of that line of thought.
    He kept
seeing those infamous pictures of what had happened in the wake of Hurricane
Joyce cycle through his mind.  There hadn’t been as much flooding as Hurricane
Katrina when it destroyed New Orleans, but the destruction around Jacksonville
had been just as complete.  The looting and fighting that broke out in the
streets was surreal to the rest of the country.  Florida had gone back to its
roots and relied on the lessons learned from Hurricane Andrew in 1992. 
Homeowners who had them, used firearms to defend themselves in record numbers. 
    The
fighting that erupted after Joyce had turned into some sort of turf war between
rival gangs in and around Jacksonville.  It had been a close call, but in the
end, the National Guard and the local police had been able to contain the
situation and restore law and order.  But it had been a hairy two weeks.  Erik
had not slept very much then.  He had been glued to the TV and ready to
evacuate should things turn south.  He’d been thinking all afternoon about just
such a situation occurring in many spots all over the country.  It made him
shiver.
    “You
getting hungry?” asked Brin.  She put the book down she had been reading and
closed it.  “Can’t see any more, anyway.  How about dinner?” she asked again.
    Thankful
for the interruption of his fatalistic thoughts, Erik heartily agreed and went
into the kitchen to gather supplies.  He quickly threw open the fridge and dove
for some meat he had bought a few days back.  After the door was safely shut
again, he took all the ingredients to the back porch and set them on the little
café table.  When he had retrieved his camp stove from the hall closet and a
canister of gas, he lit the burners and started to boil some water.
    As he
waited for the water to boil, Brin went back inside and began to rummage around
in the kitchen for a suitable wine and some glasses.  Erik considered their
resources.  He had a 3-pack of the large camping stove gas bottles.  He’d never
actually had the chance to take them camping, so he wasn’t too sure exactly how
much fuel it would take to cook pasta and beef. 
    Well, this
will serve as an experiment.  The first bottle will tell us how much gas is
used to cook meals.  We’ll have to ration the other two to make sure we have
the stove for as long as possible , he told himself absently.
    As the beef
sizzled on the gas burner, he threw on some just-boiled pasta and sprinkled the
mixture liberally with spices.  Brin opened a bottle of wine and lit some
candles.  They had a nice romantic dinner on the porch, without any of the
usual distractions.  No TVs or cell phones, no work to worry about, no
nothing.   The only sounds they heard were the low murmurs of neighbors talking
quietly and the cheers and shouts of children playing in the dark with
flashlights.
    As Erik
chewed a mouthful of pasta, he marveled that parents would allow their kids to
waste a precious resource like batteries.  It was as if everyone thought the
power would be back on by morning.  Even Brin had commented that it seemed
wasteful to play flashlight tag.
    “They may
need those batteries tomorrow night…” she muttered around her glass of wine. 
“What will they do if the stores can’t open up again?”
    “Yeah,”
said Erik.  He took a sip of his own wine to clear his palate.  “That’s good,
sweetie.”  He watched her smile and continued, “I’m not a wine fan but this