Pavement Ends: The Exodus

by Kurt Gepner

It was a matter of some seconds, and some red-faced grunting, before the stubborn lock was tossed into the grass along the roadside. They flung open the doors and revealed pallets and pallets of Bush’s Black Beans loaded nearly to the trailer doors. Each pallet, stacked over five feet high, was secured with stretch-wrap.

  "Brody," Hank called out, without looking at the boy. "Go tell Evie that we need everyone who can carry a case of canned food to get over here right away." The boy didn’t answer. He just took off running. Hank pulled himself into the trailer and flipped the blade open on his multi-tool. "Let’s get this done."

  The two men stood aside as Hank, Silas and Stewart unloaded fifty cases of beans. Hank offered a case of beans to Stewart, if he would lend his people to the labor. They shook on it and when Brody returned, Hank sent him to fetch the three who were still pushing cars.

  Twenty minutes later the task of toting away the cases of beans was finished. With a wave, Hank said, "Thanks guys." The two men waved back, but stood mute.

  "I wonder something, Hank." Stewart said.

  "What’s that?" Hank asked, but immediately followed his question with another. "Why I didn’t shoot them and take it all?"

  With a nod, Stewart said, "Pretty much."

  "A couple of reasons," Hank said. He sounded tired to his own ears, so he imagined that the others must think he sounded like the walking dead. After clearing his throat, he went on with his answer. "First and foremost, I don't want any of my people to get hurt. I don’t know if they have friends watching, but I do know they had a gun. It’s impossible to know what could happen… Second: They got there first. It’s not my way to dispute a claim like that. Third and finally, we’re not staying here and we can’t take it all, so there’s no point in fighting about it."

  "You know, Hank, you’re quite a businessman." Stewart spoke approvingly. "The two of us could really capitalize on this new market environment, if we worked together."

  "Well, thanks for the compliment, but we’ve got other plans," Hank declined.

  "Okay," Stewart relented. "I’ll keep the offer open, if you change your mind."

  With nothing more to say on the subject, they all returned to the Caravan in silence. Stewart took his case of beans and divvied it among his group's packs, then returned to the task of pushing cars.

  Before the sun had fully given way to twilight, the Caravan was on the interstate highway, rolling ahead at five miles per hour. The guests were standing on bumpers and enjoying the smooth sailing, along with the Shumway Refugees.

  They had gained about a mile when Brody came racing back toward them, slicing his left arm through the air in a motion to stop. Just before the Mill Plain Boulevard exit, the Caravan slowed to a halt and Brody pulled his scooter up to Hank. Breathlessly, the boy relayed what he’d found. "There’s a huge wreck up there. It looks like a tanker truck exploded and took out everything in the whole road." He caught his breath before going on. "There’s no way through in either direction, but Mill Plain’s open."

  "All right," Hank said with a nod. "We’ll camp here."

  There was a low groan of relief from the Caravan members. Silas wasted no time, however, in driving everyone to make camp before they tried to relax, or eat. The four guests were tired from pushing cars, but not overly so and they took on a large portion of the set-up. When the dust settled, a blue tarp stretched out from the back of the U-haul, like a trapezoidal awning. Another, much larger, tarp extended from the side of the U-haul, reaching ten feet over the grass on the shoulder of the road.

  After everyone was fed and a guard roster prepared, then Silas slacked off and let people fall into a stupor. Stewart approached the old soldier as he finally allowed himself to sit down on the passenger-side step of the U-haul. "Wow!" Stewart’s admiration was transparent. "It’s incredible how you handle your people. Where do you get the energy?"

  Too tired even to lift his head, Silas looked up at the man from under his brow. It was his habit to size people up. His first impression of Stewart was that the man was not much of a threat. Now that he had another moment, Silas looked him over more thoroughly. Stewart was in his late thirties, or early forties. He had obviously shaved that morning. His hands were not used to physical labor. He looked a little gangly, but moved well, like a weekend athlete. Probably plays basketball, Silas thought. There was an air of authority in his posture, like a company commander. Silas bobbed his head and grunted. "Army, retired," he managed to rumble.

  "Wow!" Stewart reiterated his esteem for Silas. "I really want to pick your brain. But I can tell you need to rest," he spoke with a distant sincerity. "Another time, maybe?" Silas managed to jut out his jaw and grunt. "Great!" The slender, tall man left Silas in peace.

  Moments later, Stewart was at Hank’s heals. "You’ve got some amazing talent," he said.

  Pulling up short, Hank asked him. "What do you mean?’

  "What do I mean?" Stewart asked as if Hank were toying with him, but then went on. "Isn’t it obvious what I mean?"

  Hank eyed him slantways, too tired to play games. "You don’t know me, or my talents…. So, no, it isn’t obvious."

  With an earnest look Stewart said, "These people trust you. They respect you. But more over, they’re following you."

  "They’re escaping," Hank quipped. "I just happen to have somewhere to go."

  Stewart’s eyebrows jumped high up on his forehead. "Where’s that?"

  For a split second, Hank held his tongue, leery of revealing too much. But then he shrugged and said, "Well, Stewart, we’re heading up to the mountains."

  With eyes wide, Stewart’s jaw dropped. "No!" He dragged out the word as if to say, it can’t be. "We’re heading up to the mountains, too."

  Through his fatigue, Hank’s interest was piqued and simultaneously a chill ran down his spine. "I spend a lot of time up there, Stewart. Whereabouts are you headed?" he asked.

  "First, before this conversation goes any further, please call me Stew. Only my mother and strangers call me Stewart." Hank nodded, tiredly. "Anyway," Stew went on, "there’s a place I know, with a meadow and a stream." Hank nodded and the slender man continued. "It’s about a half-hour hike off the closest road."

  "Yes?" Hank could feel his scalp tingling.

  "And there’s this little stone hut," Stew said.

  Hank’s jaw dropped. "With a thatched roof?" he asked, "and a woodshed in the back?"

  "Oh, my Lord," Stew exclaimed. "That’s exactly right!"

  "I built that hut," Hank said, excitedly.

  "That was you? You’re kidding!" Stew belted. "Very impressive."

  Hank grinned, despite himself. "I built it while I was running my beekeeping business."

  Shaking his head, slowly from side to side, Stew said, "So those were your hives and honey? I hope you didn’t mind my occasional indulgences. Did you have some help building the place?" Stew asked. To Hank the question seemed innocent enough, but the way it was asked set his hair on end. As if it were an afterthought Stew added, "I thought the cast iron cookware finished the place off nicely."

  It all clicked into place for Hank. "You brought all those cast iron pots and pans up there, didn’t you?" he asked with a grin. At first, Stew seemed surprised, then reluctant to speak. "Don’t be modest," Hank prompted.

  With a small nasally laugh, Stew answered, "Well… not all at once."

  Hank shot out his hand and Stew took it. They shook vigorously and Hank said, "I’m glad to finally meet you!" They smiled at each other, looking one another in the eyes. He had been worried about who they might stumble upon when they got up there, but he hadn’t realized just how worried he’d been until the weight of it was lifted from his shoulders. Hank placed his left hand over Stew’s hand and with a sincere laugh he said, "I appreciate all your help. That was a good trade."

  Stew grinned at the big man and nodded. "I’m relieved that you think so." Their hands let go, but their eyes still held friendly smiles.

  Darkness fully washed over them bef
ore they finished discussing their lives and individual experiences with the meadow. Stew was vice president of operations at InfoLight, which was a small high-tech company in the business of manufactured optical processors. His wife and children were in New Orleans, visiting his wife’s side of the family. The people with him were Carl, his assembly manager, Stacy, their Human Resources representative and Julie, who did payroll. The four of them had been out on an extended business lunch when it happened. Their factory exploded and nobody at their facility had survived. All of his camping gear was packed in his suburban, in preparation for a weekend getaway. And that was how he had become so well equipped.

  At last, both men were so tired that they each neared collapse. Hank drew up somber and quiet for a moment, but Stew broke the silence almost immediately. "What’s on your mind, Hank?"

  "Who says there’s anything but sleep?" Hank asked while rubbing his eyes behind his glasses.

  "I do," Stew said, frankly. "What’s on your mind?"

  With an acquiescent nod Hank said, "You’re right, I shouldn’t pussyfoot. I was just thinking that you could help out a lot."

  "How so," Stew asked. His tone was a practiced neutral.

  "Well," Hank drawled, "since you know where we’re going, if anything happened to me you could guide these people where they need to go."

  Stew rubbed his thumb and middle finger across his eyelids and then glanced up at Hank. "I could… But why do you say that?"

  "Because," Hank said with a tug on his beard, "across the river, about ten miles from here, is where my brother and his family live."

  A light shone in Stew’s eye. "You want to go get them, but you couldn’t before now." He connected the dots.

  Hank nodded.

  Drawing himself up, Stew said, "I’d be happy to lead your people to our meadow."

  Feeling a tinge of agitation from the statement, but too tired to contest it, Hank blinked, smiled and then slapped Stew on the shoulder. "Thank you."

  Nodding graciously, Stew asked, "You plan to head out in the morning?"

  "Yeah," Hank confirmed. "Before everyone gets up. I figure I’ll be there by noon, at the latest. A couple hours to gather up whatever is worth carrying and we’ll head out. Rather than chasing the Caravan through town, we’ll go down SR 14 to the 164th interchange. If you’ve passed that point, it shouldn’t be too hard to catch up. Otherwise we’ll camp out and wait until you come along."

  "Sounds like a plan, my friend." Stew laid his hand on Hank’s shoulder and gently pushed him toward the U-haul. "Now, I suggest that you get some rest. Tomorrow will be here a lot sooner than you realize."

  Offering no resistance, Hank plodded away from his new companion. "You’re right. I’m so tired, even my hair is yawning." Before he took two steps, Hank turned back to Stew and said, "I’ll offer you the same deal as everyone else. Pull your weight and you get fed. Evie’s keeping everyone organized, so just ask her what needs to be done."

  They had no fire as a matter of choice, and everything was dark. But Hank borrowed the guard’s flashlight and hunkered down to write in his journal.

  Day 2, ~10:00pm

  We buried Jeremy today. He and Brody got loaded and Jeremy broke his neck. God, don’t make us bury anybody else. Norah almost caught a bullet. Met the guy who’s been helping me with the hut. I don’t know what I expected, but at least he seems decent. His name is Stewart Vangaard. Tomorrow I’m going for Matt and family. If anything happens to me, Stewart will make sure the Caravan finds the Meadow. I really thought Kyle and Izzy would have found us by now.

  CHAPTER SIX

  There was just enough light shining from the east that Silas didn’t need a flashlight when he roused Hank and Evie from their fitful sleep on the floor of the U-haul. Hank immediately rolled onto his knees muttering to himself, "Get up, get up, get up, just get up." When he finally found his feet, he couldn’t keep from groaning for all his aches and pains.

  Silas chuckled quietly and pointed at the grizzly bear of a man. "If you think that body’s hurtin’, how do you s’pose this one feels?" He asked, pointing at himself. "I’ve got twenty years on you."

  Hank squinted puffy eyes and grunted at his dark friend. His right eye refused to open past a slit. When he finally rubbed the glue from his vision, he pulled his glasses from a hard case in his coat. Evie and Hank had slept on the floor of the kitchen, with nothing more than a threadbare comforter for a bed. Groaning harmoniously with her husband, Evie rolled to her back and yelped.

  "What’s a matter, Evie," Hank croaked. "Not as young as you used to be?"

  "I was never young enough to sleep on the floor," she snapped.

  From the road side of the U-haul, Camille came around the corner. "What’s wrong with you old folks," the octogenarian taunted. "I feel great." He thrust his arms out in front of him and performed half a dozen squats. "This is like camping."

  Even Silas speared a good-natured scowl at the old man, who threw his hands up to protect himself from the stabbing glares.

  "Go put your teeth in, ya old fool." Evie did nothing to hide her vitriolic sentiment. "You look like Yoda!" As they bantered, Evie grabbed her purse and scrounged out a bottle of pills. Like a drunken pharmacist, she dispensed handfuls of Advil to the small group. Camille declined, stating that he had taken an aspirin an hour before.

  Even though they were talking loudly, snores could be heard from inside the dorm room. Only the four of them were stirring. As their chitchat waned, Hank set about stoking the fire and Evie dully watched him. Silas and Camille wandered off to patrol the perimeter.

  "Evie," Hank said hesitantly.

  "I know, Hank," she cut in. "I heard you talking. I’m no moron."

  "I have to go," he said.

  "No, Hank. You don’t," she turned her back to him.

  "They’re so close, and now that I know you’ll get to the meadow…." He couldn’t say what he meant. He couldn’t say, "If anything happens to me."

  "You’re the leader, Hank," she said, turning to face him. "You can’t abandon us, even if it is for family."

  "I have to, Evie." Hank was pleading with his wife to understand. "It’s not just that they are family."

  "Hank," Evie pleaded in return. "We didn’t even go after our own son and granddaughter. Why would you go so far out of your way for your brother and his family?"

  "Evie!" Hank stood taller and folded his own arms across his chest. "They’re our family. Besides, there was no reasonable opportunity to go looking for Kyle and Izzy. Moreover, Kyle knows the meadow and he will get to the house as soon as he can. I have no doubt that he’ll catch up. Probably this morning."

  "Well," she said defiantly, "Matthew could do the same."

  "You know he won’t go to our house, for one," Hank said as he pressed out his left pinky with his right index finger. "Second," he said, adding his ring finger. "He doesn’t know where the meadow is, even if he did go to the house." Then he bent his middle finger and said, "Third, and lastly, the two of them, together, have just enough wilderness know-how to start a campfire. How do you expect them to survive?"

  "You’re…" Evie began, but Hank cut her off.

  "Besides that, Evie," he spoke accusingly, "what would you do if it were your sister?"

  She frowned, "That’s not fair."

  "It is," Hank insisted.

  "Fine, Hank," Evie conceded with up-thrown hands. "Have it your way. But I don’t trust that man, so you better get your ass back, today."

  Hank couldn’t suppress a grin, but Evie knew that he was entirely serious. "It may take three days, if the Caravan makes good time."

  "No! One day!" Evie pouted out her demand. "That’s it!"

  "Evie," Hank said, as he pulled her into his chest and wrapped his arms around her. "If the moon and the stars are in alignment and the gods are smiling fondly upon us, I might see you tonight. But really, my love, tomorrow is the soonest I expect to catch up with you. With Stew and his group helping out, you’ll make good time. Y
ou might even reach Camas, today."

  Evie cuddled into Hank and turned her eyes up to look at his. "I’m serious about him, Hank. I’ve got a bad feeling about Stew." She said his name derisively.

  Hank asked, "Do you remember me telling you about all that cast-iron cookware showing up at the hut?" Evie nodded. "That was from Stew."

  Pushing away from her husband, Evie knuckled her hips. "Oh, come on, Hank. You could have made some cast-iron pots and pans and whatever else you wanted." She threw up her hands to express the limit of his potential. "You can’t seriously think that a few chunks of metal are a testament of his character, can you?"

  Hank’s face showed consternation as he shook his head. "It’s not about what I could have done or the value of what he gave me. The fact is, he carried those things up to my hut and left them for me, rather than just taking what was there. Doesn’t that show the caliber of man he is? I think I’m a pretty good judge of character. I married you. Didn’t I?"

  Rolling her eyes in defeat, Evie said, "It shows that you’re a trusting fool who gets easily duped." Hank looked hurt by her words and she reached out to him. She comforted her husband with a warm embrace saying, "But that was before things really mattered. Now, you need to get going. The sooner you leave, the sooner you’ll get back."

  He nodded into her hair. "I love you, Evie," he said with deep earnestness.

  "I know," she said, as if swallowing a bitter pill. "I love you, too… More than I ever knew." They held one another for a moment longer. Then they loaded a backpack with enough food to feed five people for two days and a carton of Marlboro cigarettes.

  Hank drank down a canteen of water, refilled it and put it in his pack. He and Evie made a small ceremony of farewell by sipping away the last few ounces of spiced rum from the engraved hip flask that she’d given him for his fortieth birthday. They joked of its medicinal properties as they rubbed at their aching muscles. When the flask was empty, he rinsed it with water and then filled it with Clorox bleach. "So much for sneaking sips at the movie theater," he said with a forlorn voice. Evie whined mournfully, albeit quietly, at the loss of their mutual trespass. It was a thing that they had done as recently as last month.