by Ike Warren
"I'd like to walk a couple miles to the east to get as far away from this place as possible."
"I know, but I'm so tired." Jennifer sighed and the baby let out a whimper in agreement.
Ahead on the eastbound interstate lanes Allan saw in the dim night light a lone 18 wheeler that appeared to have stopped right in the middle of the highway.
"Wanna see if we can rest inside that 18 wheeler?" Allan asked and Jennifer nodded in agreement. They approached the truck cautiously and Allan was surprised to see that the contents of the truck’s trailer had not been looted and strewn out across the roadway. Allan hopped up on the corrugated aluminum step beside the driver's side door and he tried the handle but the door would not open.
"It's locked." Allan whispered. "Look around for something to break the glass with."
"That's going to create too much noise." Jennifer whispered.
Allan stepped off the step beside the truck cab and motioned to Jennifer, "Follow me."
They walked to the rear of the truck and Allan looked at the lock mechanism on the back of the trailer. He was pleased to see that there was not an actual lock on the trailer door.
"Wanna try to get inside?" He asked.
"If you think we can get up in there." Jennifer said looking at how high the floor of the trailer was off the ground. Allan fumbled with the door mechanism for a few moments until the lock finally unlatched. He pulled on the door and it opened partially with a loud creaking noise and Allan stopped and looked to see if anyone was around to hear the racket. Seeing no one he tugged on the door and it made popping noises as it spun against its rusty hinges. Allan peered inside but the trailer was completely dark. He used the rear bumper of the trailer as a step rung to lift himself up and once inside he put his hands out in front of him to feel around in the darkness. About three feet away from the door opening he felt a large object that felt like cardboard boxes with plastic wrapped around the outside of them. He touched the top and felt that the boxes had been lined up in an arrangement that made the top of them flat.
"There appears to be some pallets of boxes of some sort in here." He said turning back to Jennifer. “The top of the boxes seem pretty flat and might make a good place to sleep.”
Jennifer lifted the baby into the air and Allan leaned down and folded him into his arms and then he held out a hand to help hoist Jennifer up to the trailer. The baby started crying, already developing an attachment for his mother's touch and Allan handed the baby back to her in an effort to keep him quiet. Jennifer tested the surface of the boxes with her hand, pushing down on them to ensure that it would hold their weight.
"Wonder what's in the boxes?" Jennifer asked.
"It's too dark to see now. I guess we'll find out in the morning."
Jennifer gently placed the baby on the top of the boxes and Allan placed his hands under Jennifer’s arms and helped to lift her up. This time Jennifer managed to not go into a giggle fit from Allan touching under her arms. He turned back and closed the door of the trailer but left an opening wide enough to let some air circulate inside the trailer and then he hopped on top of the boxes and as he lay down he began to feel guilty for resting so close to home.
Maybe we shouldn’t have stopped. He thought. We should have kept pushing on. We should have... It was all that he could do to maintain his train of thought against his fatigue and finally his exhaustion won over and he was asleep before he could finish the thought.
Chapter 21: Lumbering Strides
They slept until the early morning sun rose and began to shine through the cracked opening in the door, stirring them awake. They rose from their cardboard bed and Allan hopped down and swung open the trailer door. They all squinted as the bright sunlight entered their eyes and the baby squirmed and then let out a burst of cries that were only calmed by his mother’s milk. Allan turned and looked back at the cardboard boxes curiously. The boxes were unmarked and so he dug into the plastic wrapping that lined them with his fingers, tearing the plastic away and then he ripped open the top of one of the boxes.
“Oh sweet Jesus!” Allan exclaimed as he looked down into the box with a wide grin on his face.
“What is it?” Jennifer asked with excitement.
Allan read the writing on the label inside the box. “92 Brightness, 8.5 x 11 Inches, 2500 Sheets”
“Reams of paper?” Jennifer asked disappointed. “Why couldn’t it be food?”
Allan looked down at his broken shoe. “Or shoes.”
Jennifer looked down at their tattered clothes. “Or clothes.”
“Or diapers.” They both looked at the baby and then nodded their heads in unison. “Yeah, diapers would be awesome.”
He combed through a few more boxes but it seemed that the entire trailer load contained nothing but boxed reams of paper. Allan climbed out of the trailer first and then assisted Jennifer down. The baby was still nursing as they set off eastward in the crisp morning air.
A man walked by who was wearing a black backpack that appeared to have tactical looking webbing gear on it and attached to the outside was a green military style canteen.
"I wish I had a bug out bag like that." Allan said.
"A what?" Jennifer asked.
"It's a bag with supplies for getting out of difficult situations. I thought about putting one together to keep in my truck but obviously that never happened."
"But why did you call it a bug out bag? You make it sound like the guy keeps bugs inside it."
"It's just a phrase. To bug out. I can't believe you've never heard of it before you idjit." He said stealing the insulting word that she called him.
"I'm an idjit? Sleeping on the boxes last night reminded me of something. Do you remember the time that you dropped the boxes at work?" She asked with a big grin on her face. Allan shook his head from side to side, not because he didn't remember but because he didn't want to revisit the memory. "You came up to my cubicle at work and asked me how my weekend went and as I responded you oh so coolly leaned against a stack of boxes that were beside my desk. Little did you know that the boxes were all empty and all of a sudden the huge stack of boxes went tumbling to the floor. You turned beat red in the face and put your head down and then you turned and ran away. It was so funny and so cute." She said as she dug her fingers lovingly into his side. He had heard the story from her perspective at least a hundred times and it was one of her favorite memories of their early courtship.
"You made me nervous back then." He said and she gave him a playful wink back. "You still make me nervous." He admitted.
"So about this bug out bag or whatever you call it. Why don't we have one of those?"
"Because I didn't think we'd ever need it. I always figured we could just call triple A or call someone on our cell phones if we had car trouble or whatever. I never imagined something like this happening, so in my mind, keeping a bug out bag in the truck or in the car was just a waste of space. I wish we had one now. I bet that guy has a weapon in his. It would make me feel better if we had something to protect ourselves with since that the screwdriver got stolen."
“A weapon of some sort would be nice.” Jennifer sighed. “There are a million stalled cars on the road, why not take a tire iron out of one?" Jennifer waved her hands in front of her as if to present the sea of cars in front of them to Allan.
"Well we don’t have anything to conceal something like that in. A tire iron might have come in handy when we were being held up by the gang in Rockwall but it also might have gotten us killed. The people around here seem really tense. If any of them were to see us walking around with a tire iron in our hand, things might go from bad to worse in a hurry."
“You’re right.” Jennifer said. “We need to find a bag or something to hide a weapon in. Better yet, let’s just get home and get off the roads.”
They walked for another mile when they saw a large object approaching on the westbound lane off in the distance, followed the sound of slow lumbering footsteps. As the object drew near t
hey could make out a white canopy of some kind that appeared to be driven by a pair of large animals that seemed to lower their heads up and down like large pistons as they powered through each step.
“It’s a covered wagon!” Jennifer exclaimed.
The pair of horses were solid brown just like the pecan colored frame of the wagon and the wooden wheels creaked in their axels as the wagon drove forward against the hard pavement. The driver of the wagon was an older gentleman dressed in garb that looked like it was torn right out of the 1800’s and across his lap rested a long black rifle. Sitting shotgun beside him was a woman who was also dressed for the part and wearing a red dress with a matching bonnet that shielded her face from the sun. She was holding a double barrel shotgun and she was looking around nervously, ever watchful for anyone who might cause them any trouble. It all looked completely out of place on the highway amongst all the modern cars as if time itself had gotten confused and forgotten how to separate the centuries.
Without hesitation Allan crossed over the concrete barrier wall and waved the wagon down. The driver let out a “Woo” sound as he pulled back on the reins and the lumbering beasts stopped and let out a snort in disapproval of losing their momentum. The driver looked at Allan suspiciously and moved the rifle in his lap to a better position to utilize it if necessary.
“You giving rides on your wagon mister?” Allan asked hopefully.
“Need to see your ID.” The driver of the wagon said.
Allan looked at the driver dumfounded. “What’s with everyone and ID’s around here?”
“Guards at the barricade told us to be on the lookout for border jumpers. Said anyone on the road around here without an ID are to be taken into custody.”
“We don’t have anything on us. We tried to explain…”
“Put your hands in the air!” The driver of the wagon demanded as he raised and pointed the end of his rifle at Allan.
“Mister put the gun down!” Allan pleaded.
“Hands in the air and get down on the ground or I will shoot!”
“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” Jennifer screamed as she hurdled the concrete barrier with the baby in her arms. The wagon driver looked at Jennifer startled, having not noticed her presence before, and he began to direct the rifle between Jennifer and Allan as if he was unsure who to shoot first.
“Stop right there!” The wagon driver demanded to Jennifer.
All the commotion had disturbed the baby and he let out a wail of a cry. The woman sitting shotgun in the wagon reached out and put her hand on the driver’s arm, “Oh Henry, they have a little baby with them. Put the gun down.”
“That don’t mean nothing to me.” Henry protested but he lowered the rifle according to the woman’s request anyways.
The air was tense for a moment and Allan took it as an opportunity to speak. “Mister we’re not any trouble. We’re just trying to get back home to Greenville. Any chance you could give us a ride in your wagon?”
“Gold, silver, guns, or bullets.” Henry replied.
“Excuse me?” Allan questioned.
“That’s what I take in trade. The currency now is precious metals or things that go boom.”
“People really have that stuff on them to trade with you?”
“You’d be surprised at what people are able to produce in order to get off their feet for a while.”
“We don’t have any of that stuff.” Allan put his head down regretfully.
“Now Henry, I think we need to give these good folks a ride to wherever they need to go.” The woman sitting shotgun said.
“Dammit Luanne, this ain’t no charity train. We’re out here to make money.” Henry replied angrily and then he placed the rifle to his side and held out his hand and lifted Jennifer and Allan into the wagon.
The wagon was empty inside except for two wooden benches that ran along either side. Henry watched over his shoulder as Allan and Jennifer took seats across from one another and when he saw that they were settled in he snapped the reins in his hands and let out a whistle. The big horses out front lowered their heads in unison and began to push against the pavement to drive the wagon forward.
"So you folks need a ride all the way to Greenville?" Henry fumed.
"Yes sir, if that's not a problem." Allan replied and Luanne shot Henry a glare that it would not be a problem at all.
Luanne turned and looked at Jennifer and the baby with a big smile on her face. “Is it a boy or a girl?”
“It’s a boy.” Jennifer smiled.
“Oh isn’t he precious.” Luanne said with delight. “I just love being in the company of babies. Unfortunately for me and Henry we couldn’t have any children.” She shot Henry another angry look and then she looked back again and smiled loving at the baby. “What’s his name?”
“We haven’t decided yet. We’re going to wait and let our other daughter help us pick a name.”
“Henry did you hear that?” Luanne said slapping him on the shoulder.
“Yeah I heard.” Henry huffed.
“They’re going to let their other daughter name him. Isn’t that just precious?” Luanne said grinning ear to ear.
Henry grunted in response.
Allan looked around at the empty wagon and was tempted to ask if they had any water or food but he felt that they were already overstepping their bounds as it was. A breeze picked up that blew through the canopy of the covered wagon and Allan leaned back against the wooden bench and enjoyed the first bit of movement in days that wasn’t the product of his own muscles. Unfortunately since his body was no longer focused on walking along the road the itching sensation on the back of his neck from the poison ivy returned with a vengeance. Even though he knew that it was bad he began to scratch the itchy boils on his neck and he only wished that his fingernails were longer so that he could dig into his skin and scratch deeper.
“Allan, stop scratching.” Jennifer said. Allan stopped and placed his hands on the wooden bench and sat down on top of them in an effort to trap his hands to prevent them from scratching his neck further.
On the opposite bench across from him Jennifer was rocking their son in one hand and sliding her shoes off with the other. She looked up at Allan and noticed that he was watching her and she gave him a "I hope it's ok to take my shoes off" look and then she pulled off each sock and rubbed her fingers between her tired toes. Allan curled his nose playfully in disgust at her and then he removed his own shoes. The blisters on his feet were surprisingly not as bad as they had been a couple of days ago but they still needed to be treated as soon as possible.
"So Henry, how'd you come across this old covered wagon?" Allan asked to try and break the ice with him.
Henry instantly perked up at the question. "It's been in the family for generations. My grandfather bought it from an old blacksmith back during the great depression. When he died my father restored it and started taking it to the local Christmas parades. He passed away a couple of years ago and I tried to keep the tradition alive and took it to a few parades, but it was never the same so I just parked the wagon in my barn where I expected it would stay. That was until the lights went out and then I started seeing everyone walking along the interstate and the idea came to me to see if we could make a little profit." Henry paused as he thought of a way to best explain his last sentence. "The way I see it, this thing is pretty bad. I ain't seen no running cars or trucks, or airplanes, or helicopters in the sky since the lights went out. If this was just a local thing the military would have already parachuted in and started getting things organized. But the military ain't nowhere to be found except for a few stranded soldiers walking on the roads like everybody else. If it weren't for all the damn wannabe's out there I'd gladly give the real soldiers a ride for free, but as it stands now I can't tell who's the real deal and who's the posers. Seems just about everyone is wearing camo and carrying tacti-cool gear now." Henry shook his head. "The way I see it, this situation won't last long. I figure I got another couple days o
f running this wagon train and then we'll have to hunker down ourselves. Things are already starting to deteriorate pretty quick. I heard that there was a gun fight on the interstate last night. You know anything about it?"
"No, hadn't heard about any gunfights." Allan fibbed because he didn’t want to bring up the fact that they were sneaking through the woods to bypass the barricade when they heard all the gunfire.
"It's starting to get bad out there. People are getting desperate. That's why I don't like giving free rides." Luanne shot him an angry look and Henry stopped talking and focused on the reins in his hands for a moment until he continued. "Besides, eventually people will get to where they are going and with the threat of violence increasing as it is, I think people will stay put and that will be the end of my little entrepreneurship."
As Henry finished his last sentence a man ran up to the wagon and tried to flag it down. "Can I get a ride?" He asked.
The man appeared to be alone and it looked like he had nothing on him.
"What you got to trade?" Henry asked pointing the end of his rifle in the stranger’s face.
"I ain't got nothing. Just want a ride."
"Gold, silver, guns, or bullets. That's all I take." Henry repeated the same phrase that he had said earlier and Allan wondered how many times Henry had rehearsed the line.
"Is that what they paid you?" The newcomer pointed to Allan and Jennifer.
"Nevermind them. In fact, just step back away from my wagon and get the hell out of here."
Allan watched that same scene play out at least a dozen times that morning when Allan realized that Henry wasn’t asking anyone else for their IDs.
"Henry, why did you ask for my ID but you haven’t asked for anyone else's?"
"Well I ain’t seen anyone that looked like they had anything to trade and besides, if I take the time to ask everyone for their ID that will just drag out the free ride I'm giving you that much longer."
Luanne shot Henry another angry look and then she turned to face Allan and Jennifer. "What he means is that he wants to get you folks to your home just as soon as possible." She smiled.
