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smiled and jogged on toward his job at the armory.
    * * *
    Along the freeway south of Olympia, Tuesday, September 22 nd
    “So that’s my future,” Caden mumbled as he drove toward Hansen. He glanced at the blue folder on the passenger seat. “Die of the Kern flu or live and fight in another war.” Life in the army had taught him that death would come when it did. He would not live in fear of its arrival. Still, he had danced around death’s snare many times. How long could he do that before it caught him? Someday, the sun would rise and he would not feel its warmth. Life would go on, but without him.
    He shook his head. Dwelling in despair and sadness was no way to live either. Life was a gift and, as long as he possessed it, he would enjoy it.
    These drives up to Olympia and back always leave me too much time to think. Caden took a deep breath and tried to refocus his thoughts on something less existential. For several minutes his vehicle rolled along the empty asphalt.
    Heading south out of Olympia, he reached a section of freeway lined with forest. In this area, with only an occasional home visible, he could imagine the terror attacks never took place. However, when he reached the top of a hill the freeway swept out for nearly a mile before him. He looked at his watch. Five vehicles were on the road, a fuel truck, an eighteen-wheeler, two Humvees, and the SUV he was driving, and it was rush hour.
    Caden sighed and tried not to think of the growing threats to the nation and around the world. Even the problems of Hansen appeared daunting. With the collapse of the dollar, the cost of food had risen beyond the means of many people. Farming was once again a dominate trade, but many still went hungry. Law enforcement and security had been his main focus. He knew how thin the veneer of civilization was and, with war and a pandemic looming, he worried that the last of it would soon be worn away.
    Governor Monroe always seemed composed. How did he manage the many issues he faced without being overwhelmed? Managing a platoon in combat seemed easier. Caden knew he was going to need help.
    Rummaging in his pocket, he retrieved his phone and speed dialed Lieutenant Brooks. When he answered, Caden said, “I want to call a meeting of the LEPC—.”
    “The what?”
    “Local Emergency Planning Committee, or something like that.”
    “Oh. You haven’t been to one of their meetings for months.”
    “True, but I’m going to need their help.”
    “How bad is it?”
    “Bad, but it isn’t here yet, so we still have time. I’ll brief you when I get back and you should probably come to the meeting.”
    “Ah, before you hang up, First Sergeant Fletcher didn’t report in this morning.”
    “When did he last check in and what did he say?”
    “Deputy Morris radioed in yesterday. He reported the location of another murder and said the patrol would be checking out a hunting lodge that might be the gang hideout. Morris said he was picking up supplies and returning to the patrol. That’s the last we’ve heard.”
    “Do we have anyone else in the area?”
    “No, but I have a squad ready. They can refuel with the Morton police and be at the lodge by dawn.”
    “Do it.” Tomorrow was shaping up to be a long day. He wondered whom to call next and decided on Dr. Scott. She knew everyone on the LEPC and this was a medical situation. Poking around on his phone he looked for her number.
    The blare of a horn startled him.
    Caden looked up. His SUV straddled two lanes.
    A huge truck filled his rearview mirror.
    He swerved to the fast lane.
    The eighteen-wheeler rumbled past.
    Caden’s heart pounded in his chest. One other vehicle traveled along the road and, because of him, they had almost collided. Right then he decided that for any future military travel, he would have a driver so he could work in transit.
    Recalling the rest area a couple of miles ahead, he dropped the phone on the passenger seat and continued south. The sun was