Pavement Ends: The Exodus

by Kurt Gepner

  "You know what," Hank shot back. "It might be horrible, but it’s a horrible reality that has already happened. So even if you can take care of yourself, how about the little girls?" He plowed through her attempt to make another comment.

  "Where do you suppose those men came from, last night?" He asked his family. Everyone looked blankly at him. No one had considered where the men, who were so blatantly criminal, may have come from. Hank gave them the answer. "When the electricity went out, and everything caught on fire, the jails and prisons would have followed a safety protocol. Right?"

  His family remained silent, awaiting his explanation and not wanting to hear it. "Well…" Hank continued. "If it had a yard, that’s where they would assemble." He knitted his fingertips together, forming a representative enclosure. "But if not, they would have to take the inmates outside, into the street." Still his family was quiet, a cloud of dread descending over them.

  Hank added a few more strokes to the picture he was painting. "Those guards have families." He looked pointedly at his father-in-law. "Some of them would be more concerned for their loved ones than the prisoners." Camille had never wavered where his family was concerned. They were always his highest priority. If he had been a prison guard, he would be among those who left his post. Hank continued. "Now, add to that the fact that inmates always outnumber the guards…."

  He didn’t need to say any more. Even though he had no more idea where those men had come from than anybody else in the room, he had arranged a collage of awful ideas that left his audience horrified.

  After an uncomfortable silence, Evie spoke with a frown. "Okay, Hank." Her tone was doubtful and reluctant. "You’ve made me a believer. The world is a dismal place. But it’s always been that way. The only difference is, we are expecting it. We won’t just blissfully walk down the road anymore. We’ll take precautions." She was making her case to the others, more than to her husband. "There’s no reason to leave the safety of our home."

  Hank briefly wondered if she were setting him up to deliver a coup-de-grace, or honestly rejecting his plea to evacuate. Either way, he pounced on the opportunity. "Do you remember what I was saying about the truck-loads of food? A well-established, agricultural community needs a minimum of a quarter-acre per person to feed its population for a year. There’re well over one hundred thousand souls in Vancouver. Do you see twenty-five thousand acres of cultivated land nearby?"

  "Your point?" Evie snidely asked.

  Hank shook his head. "People are going to get hungry. They are going to eat everything on the shelves and then, when there is no more packaged food, they are going to get really hungry." He focused his attention on his wife. "But before they start eating each other, they’ll eat the pets."

  Evie leaned back and shook her head, as if physically repulsed by the idea. "Hank, that is just demented. Don’t even say such crap"

  "You don’t have to worry," he assured her. "We’ll put somebody on the roof, every night, just to keep Kodie and Reggie…"

  "And Tessa," Susanna Rae squeaked.

  "…and Tessa," Hank added, "safe from hungry people. They’ll bark when someone is coming and we’ll shoot that someone, before they eat our dogs." He looked at Camille. "There are nearly thirty people in this house. Of course, when our food runs out, we’ll have to go out and scrounge like everybody else. In less than a month, we’ll be living from hand to mouth."

  "The duck truck still runs," Camille blurted. "I don’t see why everybody can’t have forty acres and a mule."

  Evie threw her father an incredulous scowl and said, "You’d be happy if women did everything a man said while you sat on the porch sipping your coffee. I know what you want and I am not going to be a mule for anybody, you old fool."

  "This is crazy," Susanna Rae injected. She was looking at her father with disbelief. She turned to Hank and shot him a look of disgust. "You’re talking like it’s the end of the world! There was a stupid power surge. They’ll fix it! You’re just trying to frighten us."

  Hank bit his bottom lip and threw his head against his chair-back. Looking over at the clock, he sat watching its second hand ticking by. "Right now," he said, quietly, "it is six-thirty-four, AM. Fourteen hours have passed since everything went to Hell. If the government were able I guarantee that, in the very least, they would have sent a jet to fly over Portland by now. In that time we would have, at least, heard a jet fly over." Hank emphasized his last few words by pounding the arm of his chair in conjunction with each syllable. "If… they were able to fly."

  "So it’s been fourteen hours," Susanna Rae pushed back, unimpressed by his rhetoric. "That’s not even a whole day. Maybe it’s bad. Okay. And maybe the government is having problems. Fine. But that doesn’t mean we should run off screaming. You’re sitting in the only house with power, trying to convince people who are warm and dry and fed that they need to leave because fourteen hours ago there was a bad fire? That’s about the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard!"

  "And I expect," Hank retorted, "that a lot of ignorant people will die, because they think that way." He suddenly stood and shouted at his sister-in-law. "Why are you refusing to accept reality?"

  "Fine, Hank!" Susanna Rae spat the words at him. "It’s the end of the world. Where do you suggest we go, in order to escape doomsday?"

  Wetting his lips, Hank took a breath and sat down before he answered. "It’s not the end of the world. It’s the collapse of our civilization. Our entire infrastructure is based on electronics. Electric cars, Electronic Fuel Injection, Remote Ignition, Heated Seats. Everything controlled by computers. Electronic mail. Satellite communication. Global Positioning Systems. The list goes on. Tell me something, SuSu, what education have you been given in order to cope with the failure of these systems?"

  Susanna Rae was silent.

  "Seriously," Hank pressed. "Surely, as a civil redundancy, you would have been taught how to deal with the loss of key systems?"

  Susanna Rae remained silent.

  "Come on, Susanna Rae," Hanks voice grew fierce. "You have a Master’s Degree in Finance. You must have taken a course in disaster economics… black market trading… something?"

  Susanna Rae looked away from him with a rigid frown on her face.

  "Hank!" Evie said with a snap. "You’ve made your point. Now you’re just badgering. It’s not like we don’t know how to garden. I’m capable of canning. I bake. I can cook anything from scratch, from any ingredients on hand. Quite frankly, I am extremely competent in taking care of this family’s nutritional needs. We will get by."

  Hank gave his wife a vehement glare. She looked startled by his reaction. "This is not badgering!" Hank roared. His frustration was becoming transparent. He quickly brought his volume under control. "This is a wakeup call. Besides, I hardly consider your maintenance of the rose bushes as gardening. And, as for canning... Ten years ago I got you a fancy pressure cooker so you could do it all. You haven’t even taken it out of the box. But it’s true that you’re a fantastic cook... when you can run down to the store for any ingredients that you’re missing. The store is closed!"

  He sat up straighter in his chair and looked at his family. Norah sat at the end of the sofa nearest the hall and Susanna Rae sat at the other end. Camille was sitting in a chair by the front door. On the window seat, Lexi sat alone. Evie occupied her customary place and Theresa was huddled under a blanket on the chaise lounge.

  "How many times," Hank asked, "over all of the years, has each of you looked me in the eye and said, ‘you were right?’ And what did I do? Did I scream and yell and cuss you for not listening, for not taking my advice? No! I smiled and said, ‘That’s all right.’ But the next time I’d tell you something, you would look at me like I was shoving worms up my nose."

  Hank gave his sister-in-law a pointed look and then met the eyes of the rest of his family. They were, each of them, guilty of ignoring his advice. "I love you all, very much. This time, we are going to do what I say. I’ve never pressed it before. But this ti
me, it really matters. I want you all to survive. And you all know that I have the knowledge and skills to see that you do. Does anyone disagree?"

  Everybody kept their mouths clamped shut. They all knew about Hank’s hobbies. They ranged from carpentry, blacksmithing and mechanical tinkering to mushroom collecting, herbalism and wilderness survival. Until now they had been pointless but quaint pursuits, but if he was right about the collapse of civilization, then his skills would be invaluable.

  Hank also had practical knowledge. He spoke frequently of his childhood, of being raised on a self-sufficient farm. And they all knew, even if they personally couldn’t imagine what he was predicting, that he was rarely wrong in his predictions. Theresa had a fit of coughing and then held out her hand. "Where do we fit into this?"

  Hank grinned at her. "Theresa, we’ve been neighbors for five years. I’ve helped you remodel your house, we’ve looked after your kids, you’ve fed our dogs and chickens. One of the turkeys in the back was meant for your thanksgiving. As far as I’m concerned you are part of our family. And so are Dale and Val. But here’s the deal. If you are on the same page with me... if you agree that we are going to get out of here, then you’ve all got to cooperate with me and follow my instructions. We need to get out of here right away. I mean get our shit together and be on the road by tomorrow, if possible. Do you all agree?"

  The assembly consented to taking his direction. Norah asked, "Dad, we might agree with you, but Dale and Val aren’t here and what about Salvador and that other guy? What about everybody?"

  "When we brought Brian under our roof, we took on an obligation to care for him. We’ll take him with us, until we find someplace more suitable for his needs. As for Salvador," Hank took a breath. "I wish we had his muscle. Obviously, he’s coming with us. I’m sure Dale and Val will come too, but you all have to stay positive about this."

  "Well, Moses," Susanna Rae sniped. "Where do you intend to lead us?"

  Hank ignored her snide attitude and said, "There’s a meadow, up in the mountains, where I like to go and…"

  "Oh! For the love of God!" Evie rolled her eyes to the ceiling. "You want us to live in that stupid yurt?"

  Hank sniffed indignantly. "I built a hut up there. It’s technically not a yurt." He momentarily paused, debating whether or not to mention how someone had mysteriously aided in its construction and repair. He had never encountered the stranger, but now and again he’d find evidence of visitation in his sanctuary. Hank decided that it wouldn’t help his cause to say anything, so he omitted the fact from his description. "It’s not big, but it’s the land that I’m thinking about. I’d guess that it has between twenty or thirty clear acres and plenty of resources, including a year-round stream.

  "We’ll pack everything of use and haul it up there. Normally, it takes me an hour and a half to drive up there. With the situation as it is, I’d be surprised if it took us less than a couple days to make the same trip."

  "Days?!?" Susanna Rae exclaimed.

  "And just how, pray tell, do you think we are going to get ‘everything of use’ up to this camp ground?" Evie asked the question more like an attack than a query.

  Hank smiled at her. "By train."

  "Train?" Lexi asked, clearly mystified by the proposal.

  "Caravan, really," was Hank’s reply. "I’m going to pull the engine out of the U-haul so it will be lighter. Then we’ll use it like a rolling kitchen, slash hospital, slash store house, slash dorm room."

  "Whoa!" Norah chimed in. "Dad! Salvador and I are signed for that truck, first of all. Second, how are you going to drive it without an engine?"

  "Heh. I guess I’m getting a little ahead of myself," Hank sheepishly replied. "Okay, let me explain. That pick-up out there is no slouch. I’ve hauled close to two tons in the back, without it breaking a metaphorical sweat. In low gear, it can pull a lot. I’ll chain the U-haul to the pick-up and then pull the trailer behind that. As for you being signed for the truck... I think we can throw those rules out the window. And if it becomes an issue, you just say that I’m crazy and you couldn’t stop me."

  Norah laughed. "Yeah. I guess it’s not like they can call the cops. Huh?"

  "Not really," Hank smiled back at her. "You’re going to hate me though, because we’re going to throw out all of your stuff."

  Norah’s face fell. "You can’t," she whined.

  "We’ll discuss it later. Okay?" Her father was clearly not going to debate this issue right now.

  Before Norah could reply, Evie asked, "How do you think you’re going to get this train through the streets? Aren’t there abandoned cars everywhere?"

  "We’re just going to have to clear the way," Hank said, matter-of-factly. "That’s why it’s going to take so long."

  Evie cast a poignant look at her sister, then scoffed. "That’s a lot of clearing. I assume you’ll be going up through the city of Battle Ground?"

  Hank looked at his wife like she had just announced that they were adopting a kangaroo. "Why would we go that way?" He asked, dumfounded. "It’s a lot longer."

  Norah gave her mother a double take, as well. It was not because she had proposed the back route up to the mountains, but because she could tell that her mother was intentionally trying to manipulate the situation. It was beyond her as to why, but she knew her mother well enough to know that that was what she was doing.

  "It may be longer," Evie said. "But with everybody heading toward the river, we’ll be safer going away from it. Right?" She could see that she had scored a point, so she pressed on. "Besides that, once we get past down-town Battle Ground, there’s a lot less traffic. It should be safe to assume that there would be a lot fewer cars to clear."

  Hank nodded at her logic. "That makes sense," he said. "The route is longer, but probably safer and faster." Norah could visualize wheels and gears spinning in his head as she watched her father stare into the expanse of his imagination. Then he shook his head. "No. There are too many reasons to go the way I usually do." Hank pressed back the little finger of his left hand and began making his argument.

  "First, the equipment will be under a lot of stress. A longer route means more chance of breakdown." Evie opened her mouth, but Hank quickly bent back his ring finger and said, "Second, I am much more familiar with the route down Highway Fourteen and through Washougal." He was referring to State Route Fourteen that ran along the Columbia River. "In all of the years I’ve been going up there, I’ve gone the back way three or maybe four times. Third, there are a lot of places where we can pick up useful supplies along my route."

  He pointedly looked at Evie and said, "Not to mention the possibility of finding Kyle and Izzy along the way." Evie squirmed in her seat at the mention of her son and eldest granddaughter. If there were no other reason, she would go Hank’s way just for that possibility. Pushing back all the fingers on his left hand, Hank finished by saying, "Finally, as bad as I think it’s going to get, I still think we’ll have a few days before it gets really bad. If we hurry, we should be fine."

  Relenting in her attempt to redirect him, Evie poured her glass full of wine and said, "Fine."

  Hank looked at his wife with the merest touch of suspicion and then addressed his father-in-law. "Camille, you’ve got a map of this area, with all of the rivers and streams, yes?"

  "I thought you knew where you were going," was Camille’s response.

  Hank sighed. "I do. But there will be people who don’t know where we’re going." He pointed at the wall behind the sofa. "We’re going to paint a big, fat map, right there."

  "You are not going to graffiti my walls," Evie commanded.

  Hank looked at her and scoffed. "After all of the colors that you’ve put on these walls over the years, you’re going to tell me that I can’t paint something useful?"

  Evie blushed. "Fine! But the first thing you’re doing when we get back is painting every room in this house."

  Hank grinned at Evie. "Deal. Let’s do breakfast first."

  "Bring mine to t
he room," Norah said. "I’m staying with Salvador." She was still aggravated that her belongings were going to be discarded. Her father’s jaw was clamped shut and she knew he was battling with himself. She knew he wanted to tell her that helping them to pack was more important than sitting with her husband. She gave him a look that dared him to say it and then fetched water for Salvador.

  CHAPTER TEN

  When Norah returned to the room, Salvador’s eyes were closed. She felt her heart dive to her toes, but she calmly sat down next to him and took his hand in hers. "Honey," she said with a squeeze. "Salvador, wake up." She lightly patted the back of his hand.

  Salvador’s eyes popped open and he groaned. Then he tried to turn his head and look at Norah. He grunted and groaned louder. The groan faded into a pained moan. Norah could hardly keep herself from sobbing as she saw a tear form in the corner of his eye and roll down his check.

  "Oh, Baby," she said with all of the compassion in her heart. "I wish there was more I could do. We can’t give you any pain medicine because your concussion is so bad."

  Salvador gave her a pleading look and then shifted his eyes to look out the window. "I’m sorry it took me so long to bring you water." She had found a straw in a half-drank McDonald’s milkshake, in the garbage. After a thorough cleaning, she thought it would do for Salvador. She slipped the straw between his lips and he pulled some liquid into his mouth. As the water flooded his mouth, Salvador’s lips stretched back into a grimace of pain. Norah was horrified to see blood stream out between his teeth and run down his chin.

  "Oh, God!" she exclaimed and yanked the straw out of his mouth. Her eyes dodged around the room and she seized up a crew sock that was lying on the floor next to her. As Salvador groaned in pain, she used the sock to dab the blood from his chin and off the blanket.

  Salvador grabbed her hand and pushed it away. She tried to reach past to wipe more blood away from his lips, but he batted her hand away again. Norah sat back and couldn’t help herself. Tears began falling freely from her eyes.