10:37

by Jacqueline Druga

  “Um … middle America, Kansas, Colorado and a little west.”

  Ross laughed.

  “Oh, so now you’re laughing at me?”

  “The whole world dropped dead except middle America.” Ross couldn't help laughing again.

  “I’m not saying that as fact, I was just …” Morgan stopped her thought.

  A hiss of static rang out on the radio and Ross jumped up so fast his chair fell backwards.

  “This is NP67, QST all locations. Do you copy? Anyone there?”

  Ross rushed over.

  Static.

  “This is NP67, QST all locations, Do you copy? This NP76 QTH, Branson, Missouri.”

  Upon hearing the location of the radio operator, Ross looked at Morgan and she just smiled back at him, feeling vindicated.

  EIGHTEEN – DIVIDE

  By the next morning the tremors were frequent. They were similar to labor, each one getting longer with shorter intervals in-between. Judd was extremely worried, he didn’t know what they were building to, but it was something big. By morning it was time to go.

  They had packed a lot of supplies to take with them, he wrapped his guitar in a garbage bag and duct taped it. He just wished they had a car at the house because looking at a map, he believed he found a series of backroads that would get them to a highway. They had to walk to the car, and in the hard falling rain it wasn’t going to be easy.

  “Maybe we should just stay and wait until it stops,” Dawson suggested.

  “No,” Judd told him. “It’s not stopping and it doesn’t look like it’s stopping anytime soon.”

  “How we gonna carry all this stuff?”

  “We’ll try.”

  “Can’t we just stop at places on the way?” Dawson asked.

  “We can. But chapter six says never assume there are supplies out there. I mean, what if there are gangs that claimed them. Then we go tromping out without food and starve. No, we need to leave now and with supplies. We wait any longer we’re gonna need a boat.”

  Dawson smiled.

  “What?”

  Dawson gabbed Judd’s hand and led him to the back kitchen window.

  “What?”

  “Why don’t we take that?”

  Judd peered out the window. Two doors down, in a neighbor’s back driveway was a boat, it was about twenty feet long and covered, already on a trailer attached to the truck.

  “I was joking about the boat.”

  “We should take it just in case.”

  “Dawson, I really don’t think …” Judd looked up when the thunder clapped loudly and the ground vibrated. “Yeah, maybe that’s not such a bad idea. You know, just in case.”

  “What about gas?”

  “I don’t know. We’ll figure it out. Hopefully he’ll have gassed it up.”

  “Enough to get to Branson?”

  “Probably not. Wait... that’s not Mr. Westerman’s yard is it?”

  “Yeah, it is...”

  “Shoot. Well, he probably washed away by now. Let’s go see if we can find the keys.”

  “Should we bring the stuff with us?”

  “We’ll wait until we pull it in front of the house. But we have to go out there now.”

  “Want me to stay here?”

  “No, you’ll come with me. Do you have a coat?”

  Dawson hurried to the living room closet, he pulled out a rain coat and his rain boats.

  To Judd he just looked so cute all dressed in the blue plastic wear. He took a hooded jacket and placed it on. It wasn’t going to matter, he was going to get drenched. At least Dawson would stay semi dry. Judd had avoided one thing though, looking out or opening the door.

  When he did, sure enough, Tire Man was still there.

  “Why is he here? Maybe he’s hungry,” Dawson said. “Like a stray cat.”

  Judd took Dawson’s hand and never taking his eyes off of Tire Man he stepped off the porch. The water covered his shoes, along with ankles, and came to Dawson’s lower shin. He took a few steps and stopped.

  Something was wrong. He looked left and right.

  “What is it?” Dawson shouted over the downpour noise.

  “The water is moving. The book says not to go out with moving water.” He looked all around. It moved like a stream but it was a flat area, no slopes. It didn’t make sense.

  Clutching Dawson’s hand they moved faster, they had to make it across the lawn, avoiding Tire Man who didn’t move. As they made it from Dawson’s yard, he then noticed the street. The water wasn’t running one direction. It was going back and forth, unnatural looking.

  A few more steps, the ground vibrated and the water moved faster. Then Judd felt a strong jolt, it nearly knocked him from his feet. He stopped walking when the water began to disappear,

  “What the heck?”

  Another tremendous jolt hit as if someone dropped a heavy object beneath his feet, and before he could register what was happening, not only did the ground crack, it split, separated wide and a huge chunk dropped, taking Dawson with it.

  “Judd!”

  Judd was still holding his hand and had to lower to the ground to keep his grip on the child.

  Dawson balanced on a slab of concrete, his one hand joined with Judd’s.

  “Hang on!” Judd hollered. He couldn’t see anything below Dawson, he didn’t know how far down it went. Judd panicked, he begged in his mind to not lose Dawson. However the rain made it impossible and slippery. He struggled to pull him, losing his footing. Dawson tried to climb, but slipped back.

  “No!” Judd pulled. “Please.” The rain fell against his face and the grip he had on Dawson was slipping.

  “Don’t let me fall! Don’t let me fall!”

  “Try to climb.” Judd grunted pulling harder.

  He had Dawson’s wrist, then his hands, then fingers … until finally, a sickening feeling hit his gut when Judd realized he was going to lose him.

  His little fingers slipped from his and Judd cried out, ready to dive in, but before Dawson could fall into the hole, he was hoisted upward, gripped by his little rain coat and set on the ground next to Judd by Tire Man.

  Shaking and on the verge of tears from fear and horror of what could have happened, Judd grabbed on to Dawson, grunting outward in desperation and wrapped him tightly in his arms. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

  He wasn’t letting go. Not for a second, even with the rain coming down.

  Judd had to calm down, he couldn’t move. His whole body spasmed out of control. On the ground he took a moment, squeezed Dawson tighter and looked up to Tire Man with gratitude.

  NINETEEN – FULL HOUSE

  The couch was comfortable. Morgan had propped pillows behind her back and was able to sleep without too much pain. In fact, after she had fallen asleep, she didn’t wake up like she had the previous night. Then again, her injuries were still fresh.

  Ross was a good man, a family man. He had been with his wife his entire adult life and they waited awhile before having children. His job as a police officer and his wife not wanting to put her public relations job on hold to have a family caused problems early on in their marriage. They worked it out with the help, he claimed, from God, family and their church.

  Morgan wasn’t real big on the ‘God” thing.

  Ross picked up on that and shook his head when she was dismissive.

  She was quickly learning a lot about Ross, one thing she realized was they were going to butt heads, and often. They were both hard headed people and their journey ahead was going to be interesting. The difference between them was she was more heated and he seemed a lot more even keeled.

  They actually got into her life, too. How her husband left her for a woman with children, when he was the one that didn’t want them.

  He started doing some counselor, long term married man bullshit to her and she cut him off.

  “I wanted him to stay, he didn’t want to.” Morgan blasted.

  “Marriage is not fifty-fifty, it’s a hu
ndred percent on both parts.” Ross stated with passion.

  “Really?” she snapped. “So his cheating was my fault too.” Seriously?

  “No ‘one’ person is completely innocent.” Ross insisted.

  “Oh, that’s so not true. That is such male shit.” Morgan stated dismissively.

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “This is coming from someone who was cheated on.”

  “Okay, so why is this important now?” Morgan asked. “He’s dead.”

  “That’s cold.” Ross said shaking his head.

  “It’s true.”

  “You don’t feel loss over a man you shared your life with?”

  "No! I felt loss when he left me for her,” Morgan said irritated. “I grieved. Now I’m relieved, so it’s not important. The problem is now over and finished.”

  “You still need to forgive him.”

  Morgan laughed. “What for?”

  “You’ll carry this the rest of your life. Plus, I am sure his soul could use it.”

  “I don’t care about his soul. Not now and I don’t want to forgive. Come on, you’ve been there. How long did it take you to forgive?”

  “Not long.”

  “Then you’re a better person than me. If I need to forgive I will, but not now. It’s a moot point.”

  “Are you in pain?” he asked, changing the subject, or so she thought.

  “No. Why?”

  “You’re being very snippy, or is this just because of the radio call?”

  The radio call? Morgan thought about it for a bit.

  Actually, it did set her off, or rather Ross’ take on it.

  They both were overwhelmed when they heard it and despondent when they were unable to reply.

  The man on the radio simply called out. His call number, his location and asked if anyone was there. Three times he repeated his call and then he added a, “I received a message and have information I need to share about an extinction event,” then he gave a specific date that a pilgrimage to life would leave Branson. It was in one week. It was urgent, the man said, that all come to Branson.

  That was it.

  Yet something so basic was a source of contention between them.

  Morgan saw it as a man who had information too in depth to give over the airways, so he simplified it with urgency. Pretty simple, Morgan believed, it was a join me message.

  Ross on the other had delved deeper into the simplistic message. He believed the message was somehow more spiritual.

  Again, Morgan laughed. “I hate to think of what the extinction event is. I mean, what does he call most people dropping dead? Think maybe he’s in touch with a scientist or something?”

  “I don’t know,” Ross said. “I think you were right in believing there may be pockets of places with people.”

  “So you don’t think it’s a God thing.”

  “Oh, I think it’s a God thing.” Ross nodded emphatically

  “Ross, you are a cop. I can’t believe you are thinking this way. Blaming God is a cop out. You are going to feel awfully silly when you’re wrong.” Morgan said dramatically.

  “Won’t you feel silly when you are,” Ross said a bit irritated.

  “Um, it will take the skies opening up or Jesus himself making an appearance for me to believe this was something other than one that has a scientific explanation.”

  They agreed to disagree on that aspect, but did find themselves in agreement on leaving. They would head towards Branson and give it their best shot at getting there. A man called out on the radio, it was one more survivor in the world, and they wanted to find people. Survival in the aftermath would be better if they joined, or formed a community.

  They planned to leave in the morning.

  Morgan knew life on the road wasn’t going to be easy and she self medicated and slept.

  Ross must have spotted her open eyes.

  She smelled the coffee.

  “Made you a cup and filled a thermos,” he said.

  “Thank you.”

  “You might want to fill your belly.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Almost noon.”

  Morgan started to sit up and then groaned. “Why did you let me sleep that long?”

  “You needed to rest. Are you still in pain?”

  “I’ll know more after my body works out the kinks,” she said. “I'm nowhere near the pain I was in yesterday.”

  “Good, Good. You need your strength and wits about you. In fact, we need to figure out some things out. We have a problem.”

  After telling her that, Morgan grabbed the coffee and took a big drink. Then another. The coffee helped her ‘wits’ and she stood from the couch and followed him across the lobby. “What’s going on?” she asked.

  Ross walked to the automatic doors. “I shut them down. Take a look.”

  She didn’t really see anything through the slightly tinted glass, and the SUV along with canopy over the driveway blocked her view some. As soon as she joined him at the door, she saw the problem and gasped.

  Outside of the motel, in the parking lot and not far from the door were people. Like the ones back at Ross’ house, they just stood there staring, only difference was, this time instead of a dozen, there were hundreds.

  TWENTY – ONWARD

  It took a while for Judd to get it together. He felt like an utter failure. He nearly lost Dawson. Granted there was no way for him to know the street would break, but then again, had he paid any attention to the warning signs in the book, he wouldn’t have gone further.

  Moving water means danger.

  Still, Dawson fell down that hole and had it not been for the heroism of the mute Tire Man, Dawson would have died.

  Judd wasn’t sure Tire Man understood what he did exactly. After setting down Dawson, the big guy stepped back. Judd didn’t know how to react. He still didn’t trust Tire Man, hero or not. Something was missing in his eyes. A soul, a conscious, something. No matter how good the dead, Judd wouldn’t allow himself to trust him. He nodded a thank you, but then after embracing Dawson, he hurried through the rain to get to Mr. Westerman’s house to get the truck and boat. Dawson didn’t say much, just ‘thanks and wow you’re cool’. Judd didn’t tell him that it was Tire Man that pulled him out. He would, just not now.

  Judd felt a little silly getting the boat. After all, it was just rain, and really, where would they be going that it would get so flooded that they’d need to float their way to Branson?

  However, something inside of Judd told him they needed the boat, it wouldn’t hurt. If they didn’t need it and were wasting gas, then he’d simply ditch it. If they did end up needing it, at least Judd knew how to man it.

  He was right. The rain had washed away the gross remnants of Mr. Westerman and his lawnmower incident. All that remained was his lower torso and left arm. Apparently, Mr. Westerman was going on a fishing trip. The twenty foot, aluminum motor boat was secure on its trailer and hitched to the Chevy four by four.

  A cooler was in the back of the truck, but it wasn’t full. The fishing gear was in there, but the keys were not.

  They had to find them.

  “You okay buddy?” Judd asked. “Wanna just stay near the garage and I’ll check the house?”

  “You should check Mr. Westerman.”

  “I am not checking Mr. Westerman. Besides, there’s nothing left.”

  “You have his legs.” Dawson corrected him.

  “Just stay put,” Judd told him and walked into the basement door.

  Dawson didn’t listen, he followed.

  “Does he have a wife?” Judd asked. “Just wanting to be prepared. You know, for another body.”

  “No. He lived alone.”

  “Good.”

  “Except when his son came over, then he wasn’t alone. But I don’t see his son’s car.”

  “Just help me look for the keys.”

  “I still say …” Dawson stopped speaking.

  “What? What’s wrong?” />
  “Listen. It stopped raining.”

  Judd lifted his head, peering up to the ceiling. He didn’t hear the rain. The faint sound of rolling thunder was still present, but for the time being, it had stopped pouring down.

  As if he weren’t in debate enough about the boat, the lack of rain made Judd really wonder if they should take such a gas hog as the truck.

  He pushed forward on the search, they checked everywhere. Every place in the house. They did find the boat key. All by itself on a ring with a keychain from Bruce’s boats.

  No truck key.

  “Try Mr. Westerman,” Dawson kept saying.

  Finally, Judd relented and said, “Fine. I’ll try Mr. Westerman.”

  “Want me to?” Dawson offered.

  “No!” Judd snapped. “Why aren’t you traumatized, you fell in a sink hole?”

  “Because you saved me. I feel really safe with you.”

  Judd groaned out a swell, and was at least grateful it wasn’t raining. He headed back outside to check Mr. Westerman, or what was left of him.

  They exited the house back out the basement door. Judd was a little surprised that their shadow, Tire Man wasn’t anywhere around.

  He looked up to the sky, it was still overcast with dark gray storm clouds. He walked toward the back yard and stopped at the edge of the grass staring out to Mr. Westerman’s remains.

  “Go on. Go check,” Dawson said.

  “Shush,” Judd told him. ‘Have some respect.”

  “Should we pray for him?”

  “No, I don’t think that’s gonna help.”

  The yard wasn’t huge and the back portion of it was at a slight slope. That was where Mr. Westerman’s remains were.

  There was about six inches of water that flooded the yard. Not enough to cover the body. First step into the yard, the ground vibrated. Judd without hesitation, grabbed hold of Dawson’s hand.

  “I’m fine.”

  “I’m not taking a chance.”

  “Are you going to make me come with you?”

  “Just stay close. Don’t look. It’s pretty bad,” Judd said.

  “You should have seen it when the mower was running.”

  Cautiously, holding Dawson’s hand super tight, he walked across the yard.