According to now-President Wallace, the former Vice President, order of importance was food and water, shelter, healthcare, power, communications, security, and finances.

The restructuring of sustainability was set to begin on June 1.

There were nine government contract hubs. People were urged to register for work. They'd be fed, transported, and cared for in exchange for useful skills.

Ben worked for the power company for eight years before the virus. .h.i.t. He got the power back up in Sarasota and was certain that was where his skills would be needed.

When they pulled into Alexandria, there were droves of people, men and women, carrying belongings, standing in line.

"This is insane," Del said. "I did not expect this many people."

"This is just one of the sign-up places. People need food. This country needs farmers, teachers, and workers. You name it, the sustainability project will do it. We hope. At the very least it'll bring people together."

Andy gave a nod of his head. "I didn't expect to see soldiers."

"A lot went into the safe location with the Vice President," Ben replied. "They divided them between hubs. They still need people to patrol streets. That's on the list as well. You two ought to join."

Andy nodded. "I will, but I have to get back to Montana first."

Ben laughed. "Here I thought that was a joke. Even though there is gas in the reserves, it's rationed. You can catch a ride to the next hub. Maybe there you can request gas to go to the hub farthest west."

"That sounds like a good idea. Del?" Andy called his attention.

"All these people. Somehow I didn't think this many would survive."

Ben stated, "They estimate a little under twenty percent. But still, twenty percent, that's seventy million people. That's as many people as there were in 1880. At least the radio said."

Ben pulled over and parked. He wanted to get his place in line, and Andy and Del had to part ways.

The sign up station was on the outskirts of Alexandria in a ballpark parking lot. Del was recognized by one of the soldiers and able to get a ride. He told the solider they needed to go west.

The soldier found them transportation. They could ride with the truck, but it didn't leave until morning. They'd get out west, but it would take a while.

That was fine with them.

Andy and Del didn't stray from where they'd catch their ride. They had enough supplies. To Andy, it didn't matter how long it would take; he was below ground for over five months and away from Lincoln, so what was a few more days?

Chapter Seventeen.

May 30th

Lincoln, Montana

"There's nothing out there. It's Babylon. Everyone left," a soldier told them. "It's barren."

"It's home," Del simply responded.

It was a roundabout way and took a lot of explaining, but finally, they made it to Montana from one Sustainability Project hub to the next, Louisville, Cincinnati, Chicago, and Twin Falls. From there they finally got a truck.

But everyone was right.

The last sign of life they saw was in a little town called Bookings, South Dakota. The empty Holiday Inn even had on their marquee, last stop for civilization.

Not a soul. Not a car. Every town they drove through was empty. Just as they crossed out of Garfield County in Phillips, the road ended ... literally.

Dirt and dust covered the highway. There were some trees, but not many.

There was no point of direction, nothing. They moved on a hope and a prayer; Andy prayed the entire way.

It wasn't what he expected.

He followed the news. The small nuclear warhead was airburst over Hartworth.

They were forty miles from Hartworth. Were they wrong? Did the news mislead? Was the bomb bigger, or were there more than one?

"This looks worse than the pictures of Hiroshima," Del commented. "You aren't finding that box, Andy."

"I have to try."

Del exhaled with a nod.

Driving was tedious, like a video game. Some of the road lifted, some was just gone, but the sign that read 'Lincoln, Montana', was a G.o.dsend. It was bent and dirty, but still half in the ground, and Andy knew he was home.

He knew right where he was even though there weren't any other visual markers. He had lived in that area his entire life; he was certain that he could find the Burton property.

Skeletons of horses were scattered about, and an RV lay on its side, dented and dirty. It looked as if it had been thrown.

Andy spotted the hill of Stew's property, the one where his house used to sit, and he turned right, even though the road was gone.

Del kept asking, "Are you sure this is right? Nothing is here."

"It's right," Andy said. "I feel it."

Then they saw the remains of Stew's fence. The tall brick walls that were pillars for the metal gate were still standing as well as the gate. It was open, though.

They arrived on the property.

Typically, Stew's house could be seen on top of the hill, as well as the large barn, but they were gone.

Rubble was strewn across the property, couches, furniture, and clothes tossed about, covered with dirt.

Andy made a turn; it was the road built to Emma's house. He could make out a portion of it, counted in his mind, and estimated where the driveway was.

But he couldn't go very far.

Wood and bricks were everywhere.

Emma's house, her barn, were nothing but matchsticks as if the hand of G.o.d had crushed the buildings and tossed out the remains, sprinkling them across the land.

Andy put the truck in park and stepped out. The ache in his body seeped through as he groaned when he closed the door.

Del watched for a moment. Andy was on a mission. He walked a few steps, backed up, turned, and walked again. What was he doing?

He repeated his actions over and over, and then Del had enough. He got out of the truck. "Andy," he called. "Come on, guy. This is useless."

Andy spun to face Del. "It is not useless. I'm not giving up. Not yet."

Del tossed out his hands. "What can I do?"

"Look."

"For?"

"Anything that points to the direction of the house," Andy said.

The search would be defeating and Del knew it. He shook his head, but when he did, he saw it. "Like that step?"

Andy stopped.

The step was twenty feet west of where Andy looked.

He rushed to it. "Yes. Yes, Del." Andy removed planks of wood. "These are the steps to the porch." Andy walked up.

Del watched as Andy stepped over the rubble, reached out his hand, and pretended to open a door. "You look insane, you know that, right?"

"I'm in the living room." Andy said and turned. "Headed to the kitchen now."

"He's in the living room."

"Del! Come on. I need your help."

"Why not?" Thinking that Andy had lost it, but what else was there to do, they had come all this way, Del walked through the rubble to join Andy.

Andy moved frantically, tossing planks of wood, stomping his boot, then lifting some more. "It's here."

"The box?"

"The bas.e.m.e.nt. Listen." Andy tromped. "Hollow. This wood is blocking it."

"The box is in the bas.e.m.e.nt?" Del asked.

"Sort of." Andy moved more determinedly, tossing the wood as if it weighed nothing, ignoring the cuts that formed on his hands. Finally, he broke through. After lifting a piece of linoleum, he exposed a small hole. He pulled forth his backpack, lifted a flashlight, and aimed it in the hole. "That's it."

"You found the bas.e.m.e.nt?" Del asked with a smile.

"Yep. Go to the truck. Get that rope they gave us. Move the truck this way and secure the rope to the b.u.mper in case I get stuck."

Del nodded and took off.

Andy cleared more of the debris, exposing even more of the hole. The more he pulled, the more he saw he had indeed found the bas.e.m.e.nt steps.

He heard the truck approach, then Andy stood. "I got the steps. Looks like the bas.e.m.e.nt is intact."

"Do you need the rope?" Del asked.

"Bring it just in case." Andy took the first step. He felt to make sure the staircase was secure, and then he hurried down.

It was there, right there, he saw it across the bas.e.m.e.nt. The white shelf. That part of the bas.e.m.e.nt was so far underground it was protected and intact. However, the shelf was blocked by debris. Just as Andy made it to the shelf, Del entered the bas.e.m.e.nt.

"What are you doing?" Del asked.

Andy started tossing bricks, boards, and other things out of the way from the shelf. "Getting to the door. Help me."

Del joined him.

"There's not a lot," Andy said. "Just push it until the shelf is fully exposed and can move it." His hands worked as he spoke. He paused occasionally and tried the shelf. If it didn't move, Andy kept working.

"I have to say, Andy, this is a h.e.l.l of a lot of work just for a box."

Emotionally, winded, Andy looked over his shoulder to Del. "It's more than a box. Much more than a box."

As he worked at freeing the door, Andy thought back.

That last phone call. The one from his Uncle Larry. It wasn't to say goodbye, like Andy told everyone.

"Got an RV full of people, they said you know about them. They aren't sick, Andy. None of them," Larry said. "What do you think we should do?"

"Tell them to drive to the Burton property," Andy told his uncle.

The shelf freed, and Andy moved it, exposing the metal door.

"Is that ... is that The Hole?" Del asked.