A Troubling Turn of Events

by Darrell Maloney

  David would be tickled to make Hero’s acquaintance.

  And he’d be supremely proud of Tillie for making such progress.

  -37-

  Normally Tillie didn’t travel at night. Traveling during the day was much safer. She could see the highway for half a mile or more in front of her.

  She could see the threats before she got to them. When it was still possible to avoid them.

  Or to leave the highway until they passed.

  She tried to bed down for the night in late afternoon, a couple of hours before sundown, so she could get an early start in the morning.

  But she was just too excited to sleep.

  She’d been on the road for months.

  And tomorrow might be the day she finally made it to David and Rachel’s house and knocked on the door.

  It didn’t take her long to realize she was too pumped full of adrenaline to get any rest.

  So caution be damned.

  She left the safety of the sleeper cab she’d selected, fed and watered Hero, and set back out again.

  It was a dark night.

  She didn’t see any stars. The moon was out there, she knew. But it was covered with heavy clouds. She only knew it was there because the clouds which covered it were a very slightly lighter color of gray.

  There was no chance of rain, though.

  In this part of the country, at this time of year, thunderstorms almost always announced their coming with high winds and blowing dust.

  And typically one could smell the rain hours before the front.

  There was none of that.

  The cloud cover was just that: heavy clouds devoid of rain.

  She wished they’d blow over quickly.

  She was already a bit uneasy about traveling in the dark, although she knew Hero would sense any threat before she could and would let her know it was out there.

  The cloud cover made her even more apprehensive. Not because she was afraid of the dark, necessarily.

  But more because it made it even more difficult to see. Were the clouds absent, the light of the moon would show her the abandoned vehicles in front of her.

  Absent the moon, the stars would do the same, to a lesser degree.

  Without either one, visibility was only a few feet.

  And that slowed them down.

  It was stressful traveling, and it served to exhaust her.

  After two hours of it she decided she was finally tired enough to sleep.

  “Okay, Hero. I know you’re as tired as I am. I’m ready to hang it up for the night. How about you?”

  He didn’t voice his opinion one way or the other. But then again, she didn’t really expect him to.

  They came upon a GMC tractor-trailer combination. White in color, with no logo on its door.

  This wasn’t one of the big commercial trucking companies. It likely belonged to an independent trucker.

  And that meant there was no guarantee as to its cleanliness.

  Before the blackout the big trucking firms had high standards they expected of their drivers. They expected them to be reasonably clean and well groomed.

  After all, that company patch the drivers wore upon their uniforms was an extension of the company’s image.

  An image the company worked hard to maintain.

  Their trucks were subject to periodic inspection as well.

  The big trucking firms had people who traveled from one truck stop to the next, all across the country, seeking out their company’s trucks and peeking inside them.

  It wasn’t a white glove treatment. But it was strict enough to weed out any truckers who were disgusting slobs.

  These days all the highway nomads knew these were the trucks to stay the night in. For they were typically cleaner than other trucks. Typically free of bed bugs, fleas, cockroaches and lice.

  Less likely to reek with body odor or have nasty and grungy pillows.

  With the independent trucks, one was taking his or her chances.

  In this case it was a moot point.

  Tillie slapped the palm of her hand against the sleeper’s access door to see if it was occupied.

  A sleepy voice called out groggily, “It’s taken!”

  “Sorry!”

  The highway she was on, State Highway 281, wasn’t as congested as the interstates.

  On the day the EMPs bombarded the earth and everything came to a grinding halt there weren’t as many trucks on this highway.

  She couldn’t count on finding another truck within close walking distance.

  There might be another one just up the road.

  Or it could be several miles.

  As dark as it was, she just had no way of knowing.

  She had no regrets about dragging herself out of the truck she’d been in earlier.

  Walking those extra two hours had put her four miles closer to her brother’s house, and she’d reached another milestone. She was officially in the San Antonio city limits.

  Although because San Antonio was such a sprawling city David’s house was still several miles away.

  Her options at this point were limited. She could keep walking, hope they’d come to another rig, and then hope it wasn’t similarly occupied.

  Or she could climb aboard the trailer and sleep there instead.

  It wasn’t a case of which was the best option.

  It was more a case of which one wasn’t the worst.

  The trailer won out.

  Tillie stepped onto the ICC bar, which serves as a bumper of sorts on an over-the-road trailer, and used the handle on the end of the trailer to pull herself up.

  Hero sat on the pavement looking up at her, patiently awaiting his invitation.

  She took a candle from her backpack and a lighter from her pocket. It didn’t give her a lot of light, but it was enough to inspect the trailer.

  There were no other nomads crashing there and plenty of bare floor space.

  It wasn’t the Hilton. But it was suitable for a night’s sleep.

  She crawled back down and took her bed roll and sleeping bag from the baby stroller which held everything she owned in the world, and placed them onto the floor’s deck.

  Next came four bottles of water. Two for her and two for Hero. A zip lock bag of dry dog food. Two stackable dog dishes, one stacked inside the other, and a bag of trail mix.

  On second thought, she put the trail mix back into her stroller.

  She was more sleepy than hungry.

  She’d catch some sleep, then do breakfast in the morning when she could actually see what she was putting into her mouth.

  She climbed back aboard and stood to one side, then said, “Come on, boy. Come on, Hero.”

  The big dog took the jump to the deck, forty inches from the ground, with no problem.

  They bedded down for the night, her arm around him, feeling him breathe.

  She really had come a long way.

  And it wasn’t just the dog phobia thing.

  When she went on the road she was weak and timid and afraid of her own shadow.

  The past months had made her so much stronger in so many ways. She was stronger in body and stronger in mind and now had a self-confidence she only dreamed of having before.

  She now knew she was capable of accomplishing anything she set her mind to doing.

  She was little, sure.

  But then again, so was Supergirl.

  -38-

  John Castro was just then crawling into bed as well.

  It was late for him.

  He’d always been one of those “early to bed, early to rise” guys.

  When he was a Marine he had a poster of his favorite movie star, John Wayne, on his office wall. The poster was actually a still from one of the Duke’s best movies, Red River.

  A cartoon voice bubble protruded from his mouth, and inside the bubble were the words, “Get on your horse, Pilgrim. We’re burning daylight.”

  John knew the Duke’s character in Red River never called
anyone Pilgrim.

  He never expressed concern about burning daylight either. He used those phrases in other movies.

  It was still a cool poster.

  What kept John up late on this particular night was a family meeting he’d called in the backyard at sundown.

  John liked doing things with a flourish.

  When he wanted to call his family together to discuss something important he could have just gathered them in the living room, lit a candle, and called the meeting to order.

  That was no fun.

  Instead he took a shovel and dug the old ash from his fire pit in the middle of the back yard.

  He placed firewood in the center of the pit and added kindling and tinder.

  By the time the sun turned a blazing orange and began its nightly descent below the horizon he had a roaring fire.

  “You guys come out here,” he yelled at the house.

  His three favorite ladies in the world came out together and oohed and awed at the dazzling sunset.

  Around the fire were four lawn chairs.

  On each lawn chair was a wire coat hanger John had untwisted and straightened out, and on Hannah’s chair was a bag of jumbo marshmallows he’d found on a Walmart trailer a couple of days earlier.

  John knew how to call a meeting.

  As they sat around the fire they debated the proper way to roast a marshmallow.

  Misty, the youngest, preferred what Hannah called “dainty style.”

  She held the marshmallow so far from the fire the flames never licked it. Barely came near it.

  It took half an hour to turn a golden brown.

  To heck with that.

  Misty’s older sister Rachel plunged her marshmallow directly into the flames. Once it caught fire she held it up, slowly turning it so it burned the sweet treat evenly.

  When the fire went out she peeled the burned outer skin from the gooey inner part, which stayed behind and stuck stubbornly to the wire.

  She popped the charred lump of gooey sweetness into her mouth, and once it was gone licked the stickiness from her fingers.

  Then she plunged what remained of the marshmallow back into the fire and repeated the process.

  “That’s barbaric,” Hannah told her. “That’s the way the cavemen burned their marshmallows. We’ve evolved into a civilized society now. We have more of a refined way of doing it now.”

  Rachel laughed.

  “Cavemen didn’t have marshmallows, Mom. They didn’t have clothes hangers. They didn’t have lawn chairs, or even lawns. Your argument has no merit.”

  “Well, excuuuse me, Miss Smarty Pants.”

  Misty chuckled.

  John said, “I agree with Rachel,” as he thrust his own marshmallow into the fire. “This, for those of you who think you’re evolved and civilized and refined, is the only way to eat a marshmallow.”

  Once the marshmallows were gone the conversation turned to hotdogs, and how nice it would be to have a wienie roast before the fire went out.

  Hannah had always despised hot dogs.

  But even she would have considered trading her soul for a roasted frank on a soft bun with plenty of mustard and relish.

  Just thinking about it made her mouth water.

  The fire was almost out by the time John revealed the real purpose of the meeting.

  “I’ve got everything pretty much wrapped up at work. Rhett Butler is healed and is chomping at the bits to take over and shove me out the door.

  “It’s time to decide when we’re going to make the move.”

  Scott Harter was a good friend of the Castro family. Scott had once risked his life to bring antibiotics to San Antonio at a time when John was in the hospital with a severe infection.

  John had returned the favor by saving Scott’s life after he was waylaid by bandits who stole his all terrain vehicle.

  Scott’s wife Becky was his nurse when he was recuperating in the same hospital.

  Forget “six degrees of separation.” These people were as close as they could be without actually being blood relatives.

  John confided to Scott months before that he’d decided to retire from the San Antonio Police Department and move his family to a more relaxing place.

  Scott wasted no time in inviting his friend to move to the compound in Junction.

  “I don’t want to impose,” John said.

  “You wouldn’t be imposing,” Scott countered. The house isn’t that large, but the basement can be converted into living space.

  “Or we can build a second house for you guys. The compound is certainly big enough and we’ve got most of the materials we need in the barn.

  “Tom’s house is only a hundred yards away and is available. It needs a little bit of work but we’ve got plenty of time and labor.

  “Or we can just cram everybody in the house and everybody can be cozy. Your choice.”

  The invitation was graciously accepted.

  The only thing up in the air was the timing.

  That was several months before, and the plan was brushed aside and largely forgotten.

  They hadn’t discussed it quite awhile. But it was time to make some decisions.

  -39-

  “I don’t know about the girls,” Hannah said. “But I’ve been ready for months.

  “And it’s not that I no longer love San Antonio. You know I do. I was born here and spent most of my life here.

  “It broke my heart to see the devastation the blackouts brought to my city. To see the way it changed people, and brought out the worst in some.

  “It’s heartening to see the way things are starting to recover.

  “I know San Antonio will be back, bigger and stronger, and hopefully with the technology it needs to prevent these kinds of blackouts from happening again.

  “Normally I’d want to stay and be a part of the rebuilding process. I’d want to help.

  “But John, I have to be honest with you. I’ve aged ten years in the last two. I know, I know… we all have. But I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I honestly don’t. I’m just so tired of it all.”

  Rachel said, “You know what I’m tired of?

  “I’m tired of telling you goodbye every morning and wondering if that’s the last time I’m ever going to see you alive.

  “Mom tells me that’s the way the wives of cops always feel.

  “But you’ve been shot, you’ve been hit in the back of the head with a two by four, you’ve been horribly sick. All because you decided to be a policeman and help your city.

  “I get all that.

  “But your kids worry about you too. I know Misty feels the same way because we’ve talked about it many times late at night, when one or the other of us can’t sleep because we’re worried about you.

  “When we heard our move was going to be delayed because Rhett was beaten and had his horse stolen, it just reinforced everything.”

  “I’m sorry,” John told her. “I wasn’t aware you guys were so worried.”

  “That’s because you didn’t want to see it, Dad. You’ve always been focused on Mom. You come home from work and see that she’s been crying and you’ll dry her tears and tell her it’s okay.

  “You’ll tell her they’ll never kill you because you’re too tough to die and you’re her Superman and all that. You’ll make her feel a little better and you’ll change the subject and talk about something else.

  “All because that’s easier for you than facing the reality.

  “The reality is that it’s just a matter of time before your luck runs out. It’s just a matter of time before somebody goes after you again.

  “And some day your luck will run out, Dad. It has to. Because you’re not Superman. You’re the strongest man I know, and the best father a girl could ever have. But in the end you’re still just a man. You bleed just like any other man. You can’t dodge bullets. You’ll die eventually, just like every other man.”

  She started crying.

  “I just w
ant to get you away from San Antonio before your luck runs out.”

  Rachel was sitting in the lawn chair next to Hannah. Hannah leaned over and took her oldest daughter in her arms. She gave John a look which said, in effect, “Wow! I don’t know where in the world that came from.”

  John noticed Hannah had tears in her eyes as well.

  He turned to Misty and asked, “And how do you feel, Sunshine?”

  “Look, Dad. I’m not as good with words as Rachel is, on account of I’m younger and I’m not supposed to be. But everything she said, I agree with.

  “A million percent.”

  “A million percent?”

  “Yes. At least. See, she’s my big sister and all and sometimes she can be a real butthead. But this time she’s right. We really have talked about this a lot of times, usually late at night.

  “And we really do want to leave here before something really really bad happens to you.”

  It was an eye-opening experience for John.

  And for Hannah, to a lesser degree. Although she was with the girls all day every day, she wasn’t aware how strongly they felt about the whole matter.

  “You all understand,” John pointed out, “that there’s danger in Junction too.

  “I mean, Scott’s compound has come under attack on two different occasions. There are still bad people in Junction and in Kerrville, just as there are in San Antonio.

  “And I already made a commitment to Tom Haskins I would help him out up there.”

  Rachel said, “We know that, Dad. But we also know there are no tall buildings in Junction. No place where somebody could sit with a rifle and wait for you to ride past.

  “No Robbie Bentons who would go crazy and try to kill you and every other cop in the city.”

  “We know the whole atmosphere in Junction is a lot more relaxed than it is here. At least there we’ll be in a walled compound.

  “If it comes under attack occasionally that’s something we can handle. You taught Misty and I how to shoot. We can even help out.

  “But we heard Tom ourselves when he said he thought all the marauders had been cleaned out of Kerr County. I think the chances of the compound being attacked again are pretty slim.