300 Miles

by P. A. Glaspy

  When she got inside, it was worse than the parking lot. People were grabbing things off shelves that someone else was in the process of reaching for; a woman passed her with a cart that had at least ten loaves of bread. What the hell is she going to do with all that bread? Carly thought as she collapsed her wet umbrella and stuck it inside one of the courtesy bags by the door. Heading straight for the bread aisle, she found just a couple of loaves of some specialty breads, a few packs of bagels and English muffins, and some raisin bread. She grabbed one of the loaves of bread and a pack of bagels. Some lady tried to get the bagels before her. Carly snatched them up and stared at the woman.

  "Well, ex-cuse me!" the woman said indignantly. "I saw you already had one of the last loaves of bread. I didn't know you were going to take everything that's left."

  Carly spied the other woman with the cart full of bread and pointed at her. "I didn't. She did." She turned away and headed for the peanut butter. She heard the two women arguing as she went down the aisle.

  The peanut butter and jelly section wasn’t quite as bad as the bread, so she picked up some of each. She was already starting to feel like a juggler in the circus, but there were still no unused carts around. Scanning the store, she found a display of coolers. She picked the biggest one that had a handle and wheels. Feeling proud of herself, she continued on her quest, checking her list for other things she could pick up quickly. The big grocery trip she had planned was being altered to one that would get her through the next couple of days instead. She could barely get down the aisles for the people filling them. The flashlight and battery shelves were empty. She grabbed some of the pricier tuna, which was all that was left, and a couple of cans of some obscure soup she'd never had before, but the picture looked good, and again, it was all that was left. She was able to grab a large dispenser of hand sanitizer. Well, one thing off my list at least.

  When she got to the paper products, she wasn't surprised to find that most of the toilet paper was gone. There were very few, very generic, one-ply single rolls, what her dad called John Wayne toilet paper. "It's rough and tough and doesn't take shit off anybody," he'd say with a laugh. She picked one up and put it in her cooler. Then, remembering Will was coming in, she picked up another, as well as a couple of boxes of tissues and two rolls of paper towels. A young man saw her depositing her items inside the cooler and commented on it.

  "Hey! That's pretty smart! Where'd you get that cooler, ma'am?"

  Carly smiled at the first polite person she had encountered in the store. "Thank you. Yes, there were a few different sizes two aisles over. Hopefully there's still some left."

  "Thanks! You rock!" he remarked as he headed that way at a jog. She grinned to herself and continued on.

  At the dairy case, there was only the most expensive, free-range, organic, brown eggs left. She took a dozen. She found a half-gallon of skim milk, which she personally thought was like drinking milk water, but still, it was better than nothing. She impulsively grabbed a pack of sliced cheese, because grilled cheese sandwiches sounded good right then. She picked up a tub of margarine, too.

  Squeezing through the people who were standing in line to check out, she had one more stop to make, the beer aisle. While the stock was lower than normal, there was still quite a bit to choose from. She grabbed a case of Michelob Ultra to placate herself on the thoughts she was getting fat. Will would just have to deal with it. As she turned to find a place in line, she spied the nuts, placed conveniently across from the beer. She picked out a large container of dry-roasted peanuts and another of cashews. Okay, I guess I'm hungry. I need to get out of here before I'm the proud owner of the salty snacks aisle. She chuckled to herself as she made her way to the front.

  For all the insanity and rudeness within the store, the checkout lines were long, but not as frantic. Apparently, everyone having gotten their hands on the supplies they wanted made them calmer and nicer. The cashiers looked harried, but they were checking people out as fast as they could. Carly stood patiently waiting her turn, munching on the nuts. The drink cooler beside her was empty except for some ridiculously priced water. She took one anyway. A woman behind her tapped her on the shoulder. Carly turned, and the woman smiled at her.

  "Ingenious idea, with the cooler. Were you the one that started it?"

  Carly shrugged. "I don't know. What do you mean, started it?"

  The stranger was holding a laundry basket full of her own buys. "I saw a young man with one and he said he saw a lady do it and that's where he got the idea. By the time I got to the aisle they were all gone, but it gave me the idea to find an alternate basket." She indicated the basket in her hands. "I needed a new one anyway."

  Carly laughed. "To tell you the truth, I've been wanting one of these big rolling coolers to use out on the patio. And it was on sale!"

  They talked as they waited, the line moving slowly but moving. When Carly finally got to the register, she placed the cooler on the conveyor belt, along with her other items. The cashier, whose name tag read “Lauren”, looked at her somewhat confused.

  "You want the cooler, too?"

  "Sure. I used it as a cart, but I can use it at home, too. Is that okay?" Carly asked.

  The young girl gave her a small smile. "You're the first one who bought the cooler they used." She pointed to the wall at the front of the store and saw rolling coolers in all sizes and configurations lined up. "Everyone else said they didn't need it."

  It hadn't occurred to Carly not to buy it after she used it. It just didn't seem right to her. "Well, I do need it. Ring it up please."

  Lauren told her the total. Carly pulled out a credit card and slid it through the card reader. She typed in her pin and was handed her receipt. She smiled at the cashier. "Thank you. Please try to have a good day, hun."

  Smiling in return, Lauren replied, "Yes, ma'am, I'll sure try. You have a good day, too!"

  Carly walked to her car rolling the full cooler–so full she couldn't close the lid–and carrying the case of beer in her other hand. Her hands were full so her umbrella was sitting uselessly in her purse. At least she had a hood on the raincoat she had chosen to wear. She got a few glances from people in the parking lot looking around for available shopping carts, who then smiled at her or gave her a thumbs up, and hurried into the store to find their own. She grinned and walked a bit taller. To no one in particular, she said, "Carly Marshall. Problem solver."

  By the time she got home and put everything away, it was past lunchtime. She made the grilled cheese sandwiches and turned the gas logs on in the fireplace. The temperature was definitely dropping, and it was really starting to feel like Christmas. She turned the TV to a digital music channel playing Christmas music and pulled out wrapping paper to start wrapping presents. Her phone dinged that she had received a text message. She picked it up and saw that it was from Will.

  Heading out right after the show tonight. Leaving from the dinner theater. Nine my time. I'm planning to drive straight through, so I should be there by three your time as long as this weather coming in doesn't screw me up. Coming to your place. I have the key you gave me so don't wait up. If I don't wake you up, I'll crash on the couch when I get there. See ya tomorrow morning, sis.

  Carly smiled at the phone. She tapped the microphone and replied, "Go on up to Aaron's room when you get here. I'll put fresh sheets on the bed. Can't wait to see you. Drive safe, Will." The phone got most of it right. She fixed a couple of things then hit the arrow to send the message. He sent her back a sticker of a guy with a guitar and his thumb raised. She set the phone down and went back to her present wrapping.

  About an hour later, her dad called. "Hey, honey. I was thinking we might ought to go ahead and pick up Aaron's car today. I don't like the nasty weather they're calling for. I checked with Mike and he's home. Can you go now? I can pick you up then follow you back home."

  "Sure, Dad. That's a really good idea. I hadn't even thought about it, to be honest. I'll be ready by the time you get here." She
hung up and went to get some flatter-heeled boots than she had worn to the grocery store.

  They picked up the car and brought it back to her house. With her dad's help, they put Aaron's car in the garage and left Carly's in the driveway. The second slot of her two-car garage was full of bikes, gardening tools (though she wasn't much of a gardener), mulch that never got put down in the flower beds, and assorted stuff that a family accumulates and doesn't use a lot ... or stops using and doesn't get rid of. Looking at the piles of unused items, Carly sighed. I really need to go through this stuff and get rid of the crap we don't need, especially now that we are going to be a two-car family. Maybe I can work on that this week while the boys are gone. I might even be able to get Will to help me. She hit the button to close the garage door and went inside.

  After a solitary supper of soup and another grilled cheese, she read for a while, curled up on the sofa with a blanket and a beer. The TV was on with the volume down low, but she wasn't paying attention to it until the emergency siren sound started coming from it. She looked up and saw the banner scrolling across the bottom of the screen and the weatherman on at a time that wasn't scheduled. She turned the volume up.

  "...the latest development in the storm headed our way. There appears to be a strong chance that we could receive a significant accumulation of ice as the temperatures dip below freezing tonight. The system has stalled and slowed but we are still expecting frozen precipitation in the form of sleet, freezing rain, and possibly snow. We are seeing rain in our area now. The National Weather Service has issued a winter storm warning for the entire state of Tennessee, as well as the northern half of Mississippi and Alabama. Travel is expected to be extremely hazardous in the morning. We will update you again as this system becomes firmly established in our area."

  Carly got up and went to the front window. She could see that it had started sleeting, but she hadn't heard it. Unless it was blowing sideways she usually didn't. With a full floor above her, as well as an attic, she couldn't hear it hitting the roof; although if it rained hard enough she could hear it in the fireplace flue. It all just looked wet outside. She let the curtain go and checked the temp on the weather app on her phone. Thirty-five degrees. Not freezing yet, even though there was sleet falling. Just then, she got another text from Will.

  Heading out now. See ya in a few hours.

  She sent back, they’re saying it's going to get bad. Please be careful. Pull over if it gets too dangerous.

  He replied, I'm in a four-wheel drive SUV, sis. I can handle it. Don't worry. Love ya.

  Love you, too. See you soon. She pushed the sleep button on her phone and watched the screen go dark.

  With a yawn, she checked the doors to make sure they were locked, turned off the gas logs, and went to bed, even though it was only a little after eight. After the day she'd had, she was worn out. No way she could make it to wait for Will to get there. She'd see him in the morning.

  Chapter 8

  Sunday, December 20th, 2:00 AM Central Standard Time

  Will was making pretty good time. The upside to driving at night was there were fewer cars on the road. The insanity that was Pigeon Forge and Sevierville traffic on the weekend slowed him down a bit getting out of town, but once he hit I-40 it was much better. Getting through Knoxville and Nashville was pretty smooth.

  After two shows he should have been wiped out, but the premonitions were so strong that he was wide awake and anxious to get home. He had stopped at the North Forty Truck Stop just after crossing the Tennessee River to stretch his legs, gas up, and grab a burger. He checked the weather on his phone since he had run into the rain and thought there might have been some sleet mixed into what was hitting the windshield. The temperature was thirty-two at his current location. He looked up at the television screen mounted on the wall in front of him and saw that it was showing a weather update as well. Memphis and the surrounding area were showing covered in pink–ice. Great. That should make for shitty driving conditions.

  He got a large coffee to go and went to pay his bill. He overheard a couple of truckers at a table he passed.

  "Memphis is getting bad from what I heard over the radio. They say the roads are getting slick, even with the brine down. Glad I'm going the other way."

  "Wish I was. That's where my load is going," his companion replied.

  "Stay safe, brother. Pull off if you have to. Ain't no delivery worth losing your truck or your life over."

  "Amen to that."

  Will continued on to the register contemplating what could become a tense drive. The woman behind the counter smiled and asked, "Was everything alright, sir?"

  Will nodded as he handed her the tab and a credit card. "Yes, it was. It always is. I don't get through here too often but when I do, I always stop for a burger and onion rings. Y'all got it going on with that one."

  She laughed, "Why thank you! I'll pass that on to the kitchen staff. Anything else we can do for you?"

  "Nope, I don't guess so, unless you can magic away this weather I'm apparently driving into."

  She frowned. "I wish I could. A few of our regulars said it's getting nasty out there. You be careful now." She handed him his card and a receipt.

  "Yes ma'am, I intend to. Night." He headed for the door.

  "Night and have a good evening!" she called after him.

  He stopped at the door and looked back. "That's probably not gonna happen." He chuckled, waved at her, and went out the door. Heading to his car, he felt sleet hitting his face and hands. As he put his key in the ignition, he said aloud, "Definitely not gonna happen."

  Even with the frozen precipitation falling, the interstate was relatively clear. The big trucks that were the majority of the traffic at that time of night were good for providing the heat to keep it slushy, at least. Although the sense of urgency he felt to get home was still strong, he had slowed down to make sure he could control the car if he hit a solid spot. He had just crossed the Fayette County line, which meant he was less than an hour from home, as long as the roads didn't get any worse. He was feeling a sense of relief when the vision hit. He quickly pulled off onto the shoulder.

  As many times before, everything was dark. It looked like it was nighttime, but there were no lights at all. He was seeing a street that clearly had streetlights, but they weren't on. Cars were sitting in the middle of the road seemingly abandoned by their owners. It was eerily quiet, no sounds from cars, planes, nothing. There were fires burning in trashcans with people standing around them. They looked like homeless people, with dirty, torn clothes, and greasy hair, but they were in a driveway in a suburban neighborhood, not some alley downtown. They were roasting and eating what looked like a small furry creature as if were the best steak ever made. It very much resembled a rat.

  Houses had boarded-up windows as if they were abandoned or condemned, but there were clearly tendrils of smoke coming out of the chimneys. Darkened porches, upon closer inspection, held men and women with long rifles and shotguns in view, seeming to be sending a message to stay away. The sound of a small child crying was cut off abruptly, replaced by the low whine of a dog. The dog ambled slowly into view, its ribs showing through its mangy fur. Apparently looking for food, and drawn by the smell of the roasting rodent, it approached the people at the barrel who threw stones at it to drive it away. They then went back to eating their meat.

  A few feet away from the garbage can fire group lay an old man. He was clad in only a sleeveless T-shirt and boxer shorts, even though it was apparent it was cold out, since the other people's breath could be seen. He lay in a fetal position, shivering and moaning. He looked as if he had been beaten and left for dead and hadn't eaten in weeks. No one went to help him. None of them acted like they even knew he was there.

  Suddenly, the sound of a motorized vehicle could be heard, then more than one. Into the scene came several older cars and trucks. They held men and women of all types, all races, all ages–and all heavily armed. The barrel people disappeared into the da
rkness. The vehicles stopped, and everyone got out of them. A couple sauntered over to the old man lying on the ground. They pointed and laughed at him, kicked him, then one of the men drove the butt of his rifle into the old man's face. The moaning and shivering stopped. They turned to walk away, still laughing.

  The vision ceased, and Will was left with a cold chill at the violent end met by an old man he didn't know. He still didn't understand what he was seeing but he had a strong sense that it was something that was going to happen. There had been too many visions, too frequently, all with the same theme for it not to come to pass. He looked at the clock on the dash. Two-thirty. He had changed it from Eastern Time to Central at the truck stop. He'd lost some time by stopping when the vision came, but he didn't want to wreck since the visions had a way of taking over his sight so that he couldn't see anything but what was playing out in his mind. He didn't want to miss anything in it either, hoping it might give him a clue as to what happened, when, or why. It hadn't given him any of those things. The one thing it did give him was fear of what was to come. He pulled back onto the highway and headed for home, the pull to get there stronger than ever.

  ~~~~~

  "... four, three, two, one, launch!"

  The control room was silent but for the lone voice counting down to the firing of the missile. The silence continued as the screens around the room all showed the same thing: a missile lifting off, heading in an arcing pattern toward the upper atmosphere. The young woman monitoring the radar screen was next to speak.

  "No signs of the missile on radar, Excellency. The stealth shield is holding as expected."