“Langley, I knew you would show up, and that lunk head with you has to be LJ,” I said as I checked my mirrors.
It is funny, there is a cop thing in which we rarely used first names, it was always the last name or initials or our call sign. I was always referred to as David 5 or Larson, sometimes, Fucking Larson, though not for sexual activities but in the context of ‘Son of a bitch, its Fucking Larson’.
“Well Tom, we had to stop by, have a cup of coffee and just fill you in on a few things. I mean you covered most of it in the story, the trip to Burlington, how you found us, nice job there, and then our escape from the Hunters to get to your camp,” she said.
LJ piped in with a chuckle, “I think we’re clear the killer traffic box.”
“Okay, well then why are you here if I covered the bases?” I was a little confused.
“We wanted to make sure that you realized why we headed to Burlington, why we left our post, Manchester. It wasn’t that we abandoned anyone, We’d have stuck it out, but…..” LJ said without the usual arrogance that matched his SWAT guy persona.
“The place, the town was going nuts, there was nothing that we, the PD, or FD or anyone could do. The projects, Squire and Spruce Street erupted, first with just vandalism, and then the reanimated bodies. We tried, but you know, the town had tens of thousands of people and only about 25 of us who chose to try to stop the insanity,” explained Langley.
“Yeah, most of the crew abandoned us, went home to their families, or just never came into work. I guess I can’t blame them.” LJ said, there was a bitterness in his voice.
“It was a no win situation you know, you had no chance of winning, or stopping it,” I said, again looking in the mirror.
“We know, we knew, the Chief, fucking coward, blew his brains out in his office, we heard the shot and when we found him he had a paper in front of him. It told about the military and their plan to nuke the cities,” LJ said, “I guess really, what else was he going to do?”
Langley was shaking her head in agreement, “We knew it was over, and we had to go, and do it quick. We tried to get a group of people, the ones that were there with us and head out. We figured that north was the way to go.”
“We loaded up the Peacekeeper, and the Bearcat with what weapons and supplies we could. Figured they would be good, like little tanks. Then we took the SUV type cruisers. We had a handle on the highway conditions so we drove the back roads to avoid the military, and the cities,” added LJ.
“So that was how you escaped?” I asked.
LJ then went on to say that once they got north of the Mass Pike they worked their way over to 91 and just headed north til I-89 and then headed until they were about 30 miles southeast of Burlington. They settled in there for a few months, in a little town called Bolton, kind of ironic because it was the same name as our next town over in Manchester.
“So in essence you did the same thing as Tom’s group, found a place to hole up until things calmed down.” I asked.
“Yes, we did not get as fancy as that group at first, but in early June we moved toward Burlington and got set up there proper. And it was all go, for a while.” LJ told me. “Tom and some of the Peru folks came and visited us, and we knew we had friends if we needed them.
“Then we found the Hunter, and well, you know the rest, death, running and trying to get away, down to Peru,” added Langley.
“And that was it?”
“Yep, you pretty much covered the rest,” LJ mumbled.
I had the need to hit the next rest stop, actually needed to hit one for a while, the morning coffee and two bottles of water were ready to come out.
“Guys, I need to stop at this restroom, sorry” I said as I pulled off the Interstate.
“Yeah, that is fine,” one of them told me, I am not sure which.
I raced, sprinted to the men’s room and took care of business. When I returned to the RV, there was a little girl point to Ning who was now sprawled out on the dashboard enjoy the sun.
As I climbed back into the RV, I knew they would be gone, that my visitors had left, if they were ever even there. I started the engine, and was back on the highway thinking about the visit and what it must have been like in their situation, one that I might have been in if this was all real. Would I have done what they did, or would I have bolted earlier. I’m not sure I have an answer.
The rest of the drive was pretty uneventful, other than getting cut off a couple times by idiots driving with cell phones in their ears it was pretty calm. A stop for lunch at a Wendy’s at the rest stop and then on to Presque Isle.
We got there about 4 in the afternoon and got checked in. As we rolled toward our campsite for the night on the east side of the peninsula. The place was wonderful, the leaves were at the height of their colors, reds, oranges and golds. Being a Wednesday the campsites were mostly empty, a few other retirees with their campers were parked fairly close by, but not that close.
I built a little fire in the grills that they had set up and made dinner. I had stopped at a little grocery store on the way to the park and had picked up a pork chop and some potato salad. I left the door to the RV open and Ning poked her head out and then came outside briefly until a blue jay started to squawk at her, then she scampered back into the safety of the van.
I did a little cleaning inside the RV after dinner, took care of the dishes and made a pot of coffee, probably not a good idea for this late in the day, but it seemed to be the right thing to do. Then I stay outside.
We were parked close enough so that the water was in view and as the sun went down and the moon rose over the water, beautiful, peaceful. There was a little chill in the air so I went in and got a fleece to put in.
As I sat, I thought about my friends, yeah I will call them that, from the story. I wondered which other visitors I would get, and actually which ones I would like to have pop by for a few and chat with me.
I know that Matt and Tanya will visit, but the little voice in my head says they will not be by until I get to Devil’s Tower. I may see Asuna again, or maybe not. Who would I like to talk to?
It got to be about 10 pm and the chill in the air was now downright cold as the wind picked up off the water. Time to call it a night.
Captain’s Log; Day 3 Sept 20th 2016
There were no visitors overnight, just Ning and I, and she stayed kind of close with the chill in the air. I dreamed, but as is usually the case the dreams left me as quickly as the sleep left my eyes.
I made some coffee and wandered down to the community shower room. It was warm water, not hot water, but getting the smell of a couple days off me was the real important part.
It was a Cheerios kind of breakfast and then we were on the road. Back to I-90. As we drove along with Lake Erie to our right in the early part of the day I remembered an old National Geographic about the pollution in that lake and to this day I can’t eat catfish because of the pictures of the cancer fill sample fish that they pulled from the water.
The goal for today was Michigan City in Indiana, it was a little further than I would normally planned to travel by about 90 miles, but I really was not enjoying this area of the country. There is something, I don’t know, I guess just not right in my mind.
As I drove by the Cleveland Airport I thought briefly about the adventures of the group as they headed west with the vaccine that the QUalz had made for them and the poor woman who had tried to elude the Hunters. I figured that she might be one to come share her story with me, but no, no visitors on the road today.
We caught some rain about noon time and it made the driving a little bit less pleasant, particularly with the semi rigs ripping down the roadway at many more miles per hour than would seem safe.
We stopped at a little rest plaza along the way for lunch. I ran into the Subway for a 6 inch meatball, and grabbed a little container of milk for Ning, to soften her crunchy cat food. As I paid for the food I chuckled, it was about what my monthly royalty check was from book sales. Writ
ing a book that people read makes you a successful author, but not necessarily a rich one.
We were back on the road by about 1:00. The weather did not improve that afternoon and we reach Michigan City in Indiana at about 4:30.
The Indiana Dunes Campground on the shore of Lake Michigan was pretty empty and although still kind of colorful. A blanket of pine needles covered the ground. It is funny what things you notice some times.
Ning came out and ran around the outside of the RV while I used the little grill to cook up some corn on the cob and a couple of burgers I had picked up at a Kroger Supermarket. But then a squirrel began to chatter at her and she decided that the big scary gray thing might be dangerous and scurried back into the camper.
The sky was still clouded over and just as I took the food off the grill the rains came. It was a pretty good downpour and although not as bad as the ‘guesthouse’ in Costa Rica, it was pretty noisy.
I read until about 10, a little George Orwell, ‘Keeping the Aspidistra Flying’. He was not a warm fuzzy writer, but I love the way he crafted his stories. Then it was bed time.
Captain’s Log: Day 4, Sept 21st, 2016
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Apparently Ning decided to do a little First Officer reporting thanks to my leaving the laptop on and opened. No dreams last night, no visitor, in fact, I did not even hear the rain as I quickly fell asleep.
The morning was cool, and still cloudy, but the rain had stopped. Breakfast was a couple of eggs, toast and coffee. I am thinking that as the trip continues I will find that the overall cost of renting the RV will be close to what I would have spent if I had driven my car and stayed at hotels, eating at restaurants along the way.
The goal for today was La Crosse, Wisconsin. It was about 350 miles and pretty much a straight forward drive. We took our time in hitting the road, we usually do that to avoid the morning rush hour traffic. I hate the Interstates in rush hour.
The GPS cheerfully chirped directions as we rolled along the highway. First Officer Ning was snoozing between my neck and the head rest. She is a very small cat compared to Basement or Little Moo, 7 pounds as of the last Vet visit. And after our lunch stop she took up other resting areas in the van.
Ah, lunch, I decided that for a change I would spring for a little turnpike food. And that may have not been the best of ideas, I had to make a number of rest stops that afternoon…..if you know what I mean.
“Kind of gives you an idea of what they were going through at Stanwix,” chuckled a voice in the passenger’s seat. I looked over, it was a soldier, a black corporal. “Tyrone, Corporal Tyrone Tyresse Alexander, but then you never put that part in. I was just ‘Tyrone’ when I tried to do the girl, Margo.”
“So you were the one who killed the folks in Stanwix, and turned them against the Romanica people.”
“Yea, dat’s right. I had a score to settle, it was about respect. Those peeps, Keith’s peeps shoulda killed us. They dissed us, pushed us out, left us to suffer and die. They shoulda killed us off right away at the Fort. We din’t want no mercy. their mercy was really cruelness.”
“But you were alive, you could have gone on, moved on, it made no sense,’ I told him.
“No, it didn’t, we, us guys wit Womack, we was in charge, we had it good, they took it away from us, the bitch killed Womack, we had to settle the score.”
I nodded, sort of a half understanding.
“What, you don’t think we did right? You lead us there, you played it that way, but you never splained why we did what we did.”
I turned and looked at him, “You’re right, I didn’t explain it well.”
“So, I just did, now we’re good.”
“Yes, you did,” I answered.
“Now, your girl Margo, she took care of business, dat bitch be serious. Even down she fought hard. And that cat of hers, Momma, now she knew what to do wit me!” Tyrone said with a smile, “not personal wit her, savin’ her cub, she earned my respect, they boff did.”
I thought about what he just said, and it did make some sense. He died well, he may not have been the most honorable character, but his death was justified.
I turned to look at him, but he was gone. Ning was crawling back into the front seat where Corporal Alexander, Tyrone had just been sitting. And I was think, next rest stop would be a good place to stop.
We got into Mitchell at about 3:45, I was pretty well ‘cleaned out’ and since we had some time to spare we had, I had a chance to go through the Corn Palace. It is an interesting place. I have visited it about 8 or 9 years ago on one of my western trips. The entire outside of the building is decorated each year with corn husks and ears with a different theme each year. This year being an election year was politically driven, elephants and asses, elephants and asses.
From the palace I headed to the Lake Mitchell campground. It was not much of a campsite, small, and empty. I had three other RVs and a couple of tenters sharing the space with me. There were about 80 empty spaces.
I stayed off on my own, and although I drank lots of water I was still not quite up to eating.
Early night for me, 9ish, hoping I feel completely back to normal in the morning.
Captain’s Log: Day 5, Sept 22nd 2016
On the road again early this morning. Okay, 8:30 is not all that early, but I had Ning gently pawing at my face a little after 7:00am. She was thinking that this would motivate me to get her a little breakfast, and she was right.
Once again there was no visitors last night. There were dreams, and for a change I had a little memory of them. They had to do with past live regressions. I was remembering where I was in the past, in other lifetimes.
I really couldn’t recall the specifics, only that I was somewhere different. But as I sat having my bowl of Cheerios I thought about it. There might be a muse, a storyline for a new book. I would need a new project when I got back.
Anyway, I finished up my coffee and rinsed the cereal bowl and after a shower at the community bathroom it was time to hit the road. As I climbed into the driver seat and started the RV I looked right and staring at me was Asuna.
“You’re not gonna leave us yet you know. We are good with the idea of a new series, but not until you get home and have finished us, answered our questions or filled in the colors of the sketches you have penciled.”
I smiled at her, I wished she was real. “I know, but it is getting close, we are getting close.”
She laughed, “You’re just like him, but then, I guess you are him.”
“Tom?”
“Yes, but then, that should not surprise either of us.”
Again she laughed, “Tell you what, I am going to let you have the rest of the day, I am not going to push anyone else on you today. But I didn’t want you to just end our story and start a new one. You can play in the story, the new one today, but you have some coloring to do yet.”
As I pulled on the highway I checked for oncoming traffic and when I merged onto the Interstate I glanced to my right, she was gone. Ning crawled into the passenger seat and curled up.
My mind snapped back, focusing on driving and for what was ahead. The goal was to reach Gillette, WY. It was a longer trip than usual, because along the way I want to visit the Devil’s Tower National Monument. I had been there years ago on one of my trips out west.
I felt that visiting the monolith would be significant because that was where the third book (The Archive and Beyond) really ended, and the rebirth of humankind took root. My guess was that I would meet the clones, the next generation of human existence somehow despite Asuna’s ‘hall pass’.
The day on the road was pretty quiet actually, not much more than the endless stream of tractor trailers on the grey ribbon of roadway. They say that everything is flat in Kansas, but I will attest to the idea that it pretty much the same in South Dakota. It was monotonous, which led to the mind drifting, and then to thoughts of first the Event Trilogy and then off to the new wr
iting project.
So what would happen if I worked on a story that was in a way like the visits I, Tom and Asuna made to the various rooms of the Earthers who were taken onto the QUalz ship, little glimpses of past lives, who I was, what it was like in that era and what people I might have connected with in that past.
Oh, I thought, I could put a romance twist to it, a lover throughout time, bonding between souls. This could be awesome.
I am not sure why but I thought I heard a voice, the sound of someone clearing their throat, a kind of a female ‘ahem’.
“Asuna, okay, not now, I get it,” I sad aloud.
I saw that I was coming into Sturgis, the home of the big MC rally each year. It was late in the season, so the place was pretty empty. And while I am here I should pick up an obligatory T-shirt.
I have over the years collected them from various places I have visited. The most valued of the collections was the Harley shirt from Reykjavik Iceland from my visit there. But Sturgis, that could be up high on the list. I wandered into the Sturgis Harley Shop and picked out a standard black long sleeve. The back had the picture of Black Hills and a biker riding along a twisting road.
Sturgis is an interesting place, really, except it is built for tourism. It is a sort of mecca for riders, with motorcycle shops and saloons, One Eyed Jacks, Loud American, The Knuckle Saloon all based around the Main Street / Junction Ave area which come August each year is the heart of the rally district.
I wandered around a little, but there was not much going on this time of the year. It was getting to be almost noon time and I considered having lunch there, but then thought further and decided I would do the 40 or so minute drive out to Deadwood. I know that they had a couple casinos there, so a burger and bucks seemed be beckoning me.
Ning sleepily raised her head as I opened the RV door and piled in. We drive on up Alt Rt 14 into the Black Hills and on to Deadwood. It was a drizzly kind of day, and there was not much traffic on the route. Moving up the main drag there were options, Saloon 10, Mustang Sally’s but in the end, how do you pass up Hickok’s Saloon and Gaming.
The Event Series (Book 4): Filling in the Cracks Page 11
