Alone, Book 3: The Journey

by Darrell Maloney

Dave had only been to the farm once, about three years before, on a fishing trip. And he didn’t pay very close attention to his surroundings. This photograph looked vaguely like somewhere he might have been before, or seen before.

  Or, his mind might be playing tricks on him.

  In any case, if this photo was indeed a satellite view of the farm, and he could find it on a map, it would make it infinitely easier to find his family.

  The only other option was to go door to door all over that part of the country, asking people if they knew where his relatives lived.

  All the while dodging suspicious residents with shotguns, guard dogs and escaped convicts.

  He thought it would be an easy task, matching up the photograph to a map. But it was proving to be no walk in the park. The photo was several times larger than the detail on the map. And it had no words on it which might help Dave indicate which side of the photo pointed to the north.

  So it was a matter of looking for landmarks and unique characteristics.

  In the photo, behind what appeared to be the main farmhouse, there was a good sized creek that meandered through the property.

  At one point, not far from the house, it changed direction dramatically, as though it were going around something. That gave the creek what Dave came to refer to as its “camelback.”

  Perhaps thirty yards or so farther away from the house, the same creek executed a perfect ninety degree turn.

  It was those two features, and their relationship to nearby roads, that would help Dave identify the exact spot where the farm was located.

  If, that was, if the photo depicted the place he was searching for, as opposed to somewhere else on God’s big earth.

  And if, that was, he could find the camelback and perfect turn on the Rand McNally map.

  That in itself was proving to be a chore.

  Dave had been hoping, perhaps unrealistically, for a map that was general in nature. Say, for example, one that showed only roads, rivers and smaller waterways.

  What he got instead was a map of the area northwest of Kansas City that was so full of information it was like trying to find a needle in a haystack.

  It listed not only roads, paths and trails, but also elevations, mile markers, key sites like restaurants and gas stations, parks and schools.

  Sure, it was a wealth of information to most people.

  But to Dave, it was just clutter.

  For the last couple of days, one at a time, he would find a faint blue line, indicating a creek or stream that meandered its way through the map. He would use a pencil to trace its lines, looking desperately for his camelback and perfect turn.

  If that particular creek or stream didn’t work out, he’d find another one.

  Tracing each one in pencil meant he wouldn’t waste his time examining the same creeks twice.

  It sounded like an easy process, in theory.

  The problem was there were hundreds of such streams and creeks between Kansas City and Fort Leavenworth.

  It would be a long process.

  After an hour, he started to get a headache and put the map aside. He got up from beneath the tree where he’d been sitting, looked around in all directions, and then placed the atlas and photograph into the cab of an abandoned truck a hundred yards behind his SUV.

  This was where he’d spend most of the day sleeping, provided he wasn’t forced to jump into the Red River and make his way back after nightfall.

  And he hoped he wouldn’t have to do that.

  Although he hadn’t washed up in more than a week and certainly could have used a bath, he didn’t relish the idea of riding the currents in an icy cold river for what probably would be a mile or two.

  He also didn’t want the force of him hitting the water to reopen the wounds on his body that were starting to heal.

  Or, for the dirty river water to infect those same wounds.

  He looked upward and said a silent prayer as he walked toward the bridge and the state of Oklahoma.

  And his prayer was answered, for an hour and a half later, after having walked on Oklahoma ground, he crawled back into the abandoned truck and collapsed on a moldy and smelly bunk.

  He hadn’t seen a roadblock, or any other living human being, for that matter.

  His luck seemed to be holding.

  Chapter 50

  Dave had always loved driving across the United States. As a child, his family took a vacation each summer to visit all the best the country had to offer.

  He remembered his father grumbling that the longest part of the trip was getting out of Texas. When they went to California one summer, it took two full days just to make it out of the Lone Star State.

  Once they made it out of Texas, they could make at least two, and sometimes three states in a day.

  Dave wasn’t making such good time now, of course, driving slowly in the dark.

  But he was still happy to make it all the way through Oklahoma in a single night.

  When he saw a sign that said the border to Kansas was three miles ahead, he wanted to floor it.

  But no. He’d come too far to be sloppy and do something stupid now.

  He couldn’t help but chuckle.

  If Red were still with him and he’d made that comment out loud, she surely would have had a smart aleck comment of her own.

  “You mean something else stupid, don’t you?”

  He liked Red. He hoped she was doing well.

  He also hoped that they had the opportunity to meet again sometime. That Red could meet the whole family. Dave was convinced that Red and Sarah would get along famously, and be the best of friends.

  They already had one thing in common.

  They both enjoyed giving Dave a hard time and pointing out all his dumb mistakes.

  He thought Red would be another great role model for his girls, also. To show them a woman could be tough as nails and still be a woman.

  After all the ugliness in the world finally came to an end, he hoped that Red would become a permanent family friend.

  And he was, indeed, taking her advice to heart. He pulled the SUV in front of a big blue Kenworth half an hour before sunrise, quickly threw some things into his backpack, and walked back to check out his accommodations for the day.

  The truck had its company logo emblazoned on the driver’s side door:

  JACKRABBIT MOVING

  We get it done faster than rabbits

  The logo depicted two rabbits, one wearing a pink ribbon and one wearing a blue ribbon. The girl rabbit, adorned with ridiculously long eyelashes, was winking at the male.

  For the first time in days he thought of the bunnies he left back home. And it dawned on him that he hadn’t thought of his dream since the night he left. Lindsey hadn’t visited him in his sleep to warn him to take care of the bunnies.

  He wondered why.

  Then he wondered about the best way to get into Kansas.

  His plan was simple. The sun would be up momentarily, and while he was waiting for enough light to examine his atlas, he’d eat some breakfast.

  He’d try to match up the photograph until he got frustrated and had to put it down for awhile.

  Then he’d take everything out of his backpack except a few basics, as he’d done before. He’d leave his weapons behind, and anything else he didn’t want to lose.

  Just in case he was robbed of it, or the backpack was seized at the border.

  He’d hike to the border, just as before, to see if there was a roadblock or checkpoint there.

  And if there was, he’d claim to be just a drifter, walking along the highway, sleeping in abandoned vehicles and living off the land.

  It was plausible, and reasonable, and there would be nothing about him or the things he carried to indicate he was anything more than what he claimed.

  If there wasn’t a roadblock ahead, he’d likely sleep very well during the daylight hours, and wake up refreshed and ready to go after darkness.

  If his way was blocked, however, h
e’d likely spend a good portion of the day trying to find another way into Kansas.

  Either way, he’d get there. He’d come too far and suffered too much to fail now.

  Chapter 51

  As it turned out, there was no roadblock ahead.

  Nothing but highway, dozens of abandoned vehicles, and a pair of drifters headed south on foot.

  Dave approached them with caution.

  “Hello, stranger!”

  “How you guys doin’?”

  “Not bad. Better now that we’re getting out of Kansas.”

  Dave thought he detected a bit of a Cajun drawl.

  “Where you headed?”

  “Back to New Orleans. Or just east of it. Little town called Cameron, on the Gulf Coast. Ever heard of it?”

  “Nope, sorry. Can’t say’s I have.”

  “Don’t feel bad. Nobody else has either, ‘cept those what come from there. Ain’t much there but a few folks and a bunch of gators. Where you headed?”

  “Kansas City.”

  “Well, you got a ways to go. But not as far as we do.”

  “You said you’re glad to get out of Kansas. How come? You have any trouble there?”

  “No, none to speak of. The highway’s pretty safe. Plenty of provisions to share in the back of the trucks, nobody too territorial. But we’re southern folks, not used to snow. And they had a hell of a lot of snow around these parts. Took forever to melt. We were holed up in an old motel for weeks, getting cabin fever. Never again, I’ll tell you what.”

  “I came up on Highway 281. Steer clear of it. Thieves down there robbing travelers and cutting their throats.”

  “We’ll stay away from it, and thanks for the advice.”

  One of the men looked at Dave’s arm, still in the magazine cast Red had placed on it. That, and the cuts on his face.

  “Looks like they got ahold of you and messed you up pretty good.”

  “No, this didn’t come from them. I got this in a town called Blanco, in central Texas. If you talk to anybody headed that way, tell them to pass it by.”

  “Will do.”

  The older of the two, who appeared to be in his early forties, took off his backpack and reached a hand into it.

  Dave’s first instinct was to reach for his handgun.

  But he hadn’t brought it with him.

  Luckily, the man only pulled out a roll of duct tape.

  “I noticed your splint is starting to get frayed and loosened up a bit. Hold out your arm and let me fix it for you.”

  Dave did as he was told.

  As the man deftly tended to his makeshift cast, his partner explained.

  “I know we don’t look like much, but we’re doctors. We used to work at the only medical clinic in Cameron. Then the director got the bright idea to send two people, one third of his staff, to a medical convention in Minneapolis. That’s where we got stranded when everything went black.

  “We waited until summer before we set out. If we’d started earlier we might have been able to beat the winter. But we kept hoping they’d figure out a way to get everything running again. We only made it as far as Omaha before the snows started. Then we had no choice but to ride it out. ‘Hunker down,’ the locals called it.”

  Finished with Dave’s cast, the first man said, “There you go, friend. It’s not as good as plaster, but it’ll keep you immobilized until you heal.”

  “Thank you. I wish I could pay you.”

  The man laughed.

  “I think paying people for helping each other is a concept that has run its course. I think that from here on out there will be two types of survivors: those who are willing to work together and help each other, and those who will just watch out for themselves.

  I’d like to think the three of us fall into the first group.

  Dave agreed, and added, “Well, let’s hope there are a lot more of us than there are of them.”

  He shook the men’s hands.

  “Good luck to you both. By the time you get back to Cameron it’ll probably be summer. Lay on the beach and enjoy the warmth of the sun, and sympathize with those of us up here who have no such option.”

  “We’ll do that, friend. But we’ll also be mindful that it was that glorious sun which caused all of this chaos to begin with. So she, like most of us, has a bad side as well.”

  Dave laughed.

  It was nice to know there were still good people out there roaming the highways.

  He hoped to meet more of them.

  Chapter 52

  Dave awoke with an hour of daylight to spare.

  Sure, he could have dozed off again, or laid on the bunk and looked at the ceiling.

  But one thing he’d learned lately was that some things shouldn’t be wasted, be they resources or opportunities. Either, once ignored, were generally gone forever.

  He crawled out of the sleeper and plunked down into the driver’s seat, then pulled out the atlas and propped it up on the steering wheel.

  He’d been working his way northwest on the map from Kansas City, working his way toward Leavenworth. He knew the farm had to be somewhere between the two.

  Dave ran his finger along the page until he came to the first blue line that hadn’t been traced over in pencil. It was thin and faint, indicating a very small creek, and it snaked its way along through the rural area twenty miles or so outside the city.

  He ran over the blue line with his pencil as it slowly turned from here to there.

  His eyes widened, just a bit, when the tip of his pencil went over a strange feature in the creek.

  A feature that could best be described as looking like a camel’s back.

  And there, on the map, right after the camel’s back, was a sharp ninety degree angle, where the creek suddenly turned.

  He couldn’t contain his excitement, shouting out “Yes!” and then beating his magazine cast against the steering wheel.

  He even ignored the stab of pain the action generated. It was nothing compared to the elation he was feeling.

  But then he stopped short.

  He had to be sure before he got his hopes up.

  He reached over and picked up the photograph, and placed it next to the map.

  There was no denying it. The roads on the map, the shape of the creek beyond the ninety degree turn, and before the camel’s back…

  It all lined up perfectly.

  He finally knew for sure exactly where he was going.

  And exactly how to get there.

  There was no stopping him now.

  He suddenly felt like the super hero his wife and girls had always claimed him to be.

  “Hang in there, baby,” he said aloud to his sweet Sarah.

  “I’ll be there soon.”

  Ten minutes later Dave crawled into the trucker’s bunk, after taking three of the ibuprofen tablets Red had left with him. He’d slept fitfully during the afternoon, and wanted to catch a couple more hours before he set out again.

  He didn’t know it, but he wouldn’t get another wink.

  All the stress he’d been feeling to this point had been replaced by relief.

  And excitement.

  Like a young boy forced to bed on Christmas Eve, yet anything but sleepy, his mind raced with a hundred different things.

  He could almost feel little Beth’s arms as she wrapped them around his head after running full steam across a field to him.

  In his mind, with every little step she yelled, “Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!”

  He could almost taste the salty sweetness of Sarah’s tears as he kissed her cheek, and then her soft lips.

  He could see the look of puzzlement on Lindsey’s face when he asked her what she was trying to tell him about the rabbits. Hear her voice as she asked him, “What rabbits?”

  Hear himself telling her, “Never mind.”

  Dave was elated.

  For the first time in months, all the self-loathing he felt for putting them on that airplane was gone.

  All t
he self-doubts that told him he’d never find them too.

  They were replaced now with a renewed sense of purpose. A renewed sense of mission. A knowledge that everything was going to work out.

  It hadn’t gone exactly to plan at this point.

  But that no longer mattered much.

  He was nearing the end of his mission.

  He’d soon have his family back.

  Chapter 53

  Two nights later, Dave was nearing his final destination.

  He knew this was to be the trickiest part of the journey.

  He knew he couldn’t take the Explorer onto the rural roads near the farmhouse. There was too much chance that one of the locals, or perhaps an escaped criminal from Leavenworth, might stumble upon it.

  And might scratch his head, knowing it wasn’t there the day before when he’d passed through.

  Dave’s bad luck would have it that the same person who stumbled across it might also know how to hotwire it.

  And it might not be there when he and the girls went back for it.

  No, he had to find the perfect place to leave it. And that perfect place, he decided, was on Kansas State Highway 73, south of Lansing, and a few miles east of the farm.

  That highway was busy enough to have had a fair share of traffic when the EMPs hit the earth. It would be easy for the Explorer to blend in with the abandoned vehicles already there.

  Yet it would be no more than a three, maybe four hour hike for his family when it came time to leave.

  His family was in pretty good shape when he’d seen them a year before. Both of the girls were athletically inclined and played sports at their schools.

  Sarah was a stickler for going to the gym twice a week, on Tuesdays and Fridays.

  Sometimes more often, if she stumbled across an old friend from college who happened to be thinner than she was.

  Or if she’d broken down and eaten a candy bar and felt guilty about it.

  Dave used to joke that the gym would get a lot more business if they left a bowl of chocolates at the counter for people to eat when they signed out.

  Sarah, on the other hand, used to tell him to shut up and punch him in the arm.