A Perilous Journey

by Darrell Maloney

  Josie and Frank went back to their thoughts, and after a full ten minutes still hadn’t come up with a viable solution to their problem.

  Eddie figured, what the heck?

  He’d give it one last shot, and then give up on helping forever.

  This time he didn’t request permission to speak.

  This time he just blurted it out.

  “Mister Frank, why don’t you just drive on those little bumpy things?”

  -43-

  Frank opened his mouth to ask Eddie to butt out again; to let the adults speak.

  He’d have been kinder, of course. He’d have tried to spare Eddie’s feelings. But that’s essentially the message he’d send.

  But he never got the words out.

  Josie had known Eddie a lot longer than Frank, you see, and knew that sometimes Eddie pulled a rabbit out of a hat. Sometimes the things he had to say had merit. Sometimes, against all odds, he had a good idea.

  She said nothing to Frank, but they locked eyes, and the message her eyes sent him was unmistakable:

  Hear him out.

  “Eddie, I didn’t hear you. Could you repeat that?”

  “Why don’t you just drive on those little bumpy things?”

  “What little bumpy things, Eddie?”

  “You know. Those things they put on the white lines. They make noise when you go into the other lane. Why not just drive on those?”

  Frank looked to Josie.

  The look on his face was rather odd.

  Sort of a mix of puzzlement and joy.

  “By God, that just might work.”

  Frank knew the ice on the road was thin.

  When Cupid 23 struck, the snow didn’t come down right away.

  The temperatures dropped like a rock. Within hours it was below freezing around the world, as dust was blown into the atmosphere and blocked the sun.

  The snow didn’t come until a few days later, when clouds blew into the area.

  Clouds that normally would drop rain, but dropped snow instead.

  In a normal world, new snow would fall upon the earth, and what happened to it would depend on where it fell.

  If it fell upon a roadway, it likely would have melted. Asphalt typically holds its heat for many hours after the air temperature drops below freezing. That’s why you see so many desert snakes flat as a pancake on roadways. It’s not because they were trying to cross the highway and got hit by a truck.

  It’s because they’re cold blooded creatures who seek the warmth of the highway on cold desert nights. So they crawl out onto the asphalt to absorb its warmth.

  Then they get hit by a truck.

  The roadway stays warmer than the earth on either side of it.

  That’s why we see a roadway ahead of us that is wet but not icy, even when the grass on both sides of the roadway are white with snow.

  However, when Cupid 23 struck the earth, there was no rain in the forecast for the part of Texas Josie and Frank were driving in.

  They didn’t get any precipitation for almost two weeks, in fact.

  And by that time the asphalt was as cold as the earth on either side of it.

  When the precipitation finally came, in the form of snow, it didn’t melt when it hit the pavement. And since it didn’t melt it didn’t turn to ice.

  If it had turned to ice, the sheet of ice beneath the snow would have been very thick.

  But it wasn’t. That’s because the only ice on this particular stretch of roadway came from the brief thaw a few months before, when air temperatures temporarily went above freezing.

  “The ice isn’t that thick,” Frank said rather excitedly. “And the tires are hard as a rock because of the cold.”

  “So?”

  Josie still didn’t get it.

  “So, the reflective knobs they put on the dashed white lines… the ones that alert drivers when they start to drift out of their lanes…

  “Even if we can’t see them beneath the ice, we should be able to feel them as we drive over them.

  “If we can, they’ll tell us when we’re in the driving lanes. All I have to do is drive slowly and feel for a bump every few feet. As long as I can feel the bumps I’ll know we’re on the roadway.”

  “What about if the road bends and you can’t tell?”

  “The power lines are pretty consistent. I’ll stay the same distance from them, and if I start to creep off the bumps I’ll just ease back in the direction the power lines are going until I make my way back to them.”

  “Sounds like a slow process.”

  “Look, honey… when your brothers took me hostage and made me drive to Plainview the snow pack wasn’t as high. I was still able to see the reflectors on the side of the road and let them guide me.

  “But I remember something about that trip.

  “Even though the snow pack was just starting to build at that time, the depth of the snow was inconsistent. Some places it was two feet deep, other places it was only a couple of inches.”

  “I’m sorry, Frank, but what’s your point?”

  “Some places in Texas get less rain than other places. So it stands to reason they get less snow, too. It’s the weather patterns, honey. In the dryer parts of Texas, and we’ll go through some on the way south, the snow pack will be lower.

  “Also, in the mountainous areas around Junction and Kerrville, there should be less snow on the roads.”

  “Wait a minute. I see a flaw in your evil plan. Mountains love snow. It falls there by the foot. I know because I used to be a pretty good skier, back before the world went to hell.”

  From the back seat Eddie butted in. “Oooh, Josie, you said a bad word…”

  “The mountain tops, honey. That’s where the snow collects. The roads that cut through the mountains get snow, but nowhere near as much. That’s because the winds which whip through the mountains tend to blow much of it off the roads and into the valleys on either side.”

  “So, you’re saying this section of roadway may take awhile, but that some parts of the journey the snow pack will be lighter?”

  “I’m sure of it. I’m also sure it’ll be low enough to let the roadside reflectors, the ones just off the shoulder, peek out of the top of the snow.

  “That’s when we’ll make up time.”

  “So… then we’ll be able to go five miles an hour instead of one.”

  “Hey. Take it or leave it, honey. It’s all I got.”

  -44-

  As it turned out, Eddie’s idea had merit.

  Josie and Frank praised him profusely, telling him he was the big hero of the day and that he’d probably saved all of their lives.

  That may or may not have been an exaggeration, but Eddie took it as gospel.

  He sat quietly in the back, looking like the cat that ate the canary with a big grin upon his face.

  The “one mile an hour” turned out to be three, once Frank got the hang of navigating by road bump. He drove in a straight line, feeling for the slight rise of the rock-hard rubber tire.

  When he didn’t feel the bump he veered slightly in the same direction the power poles were heading until he found the reflectors again.

  Granted, it was a slow process. But it ensured they’d stay on the roadway even if they couldn’t see it.

  They finally had to call it a day when, in late afternoon, the already gray sky darkened to the point they could no longer see the power poles.

  That brought up a new dilemma.

  When they’d made the trip from Plainview to Lubbock the distance they traveled was less than a hundred miles. And they were on Interstate 27, where the higher shoulder reflectors were visible above the snow pack.

  They made the trip in less than a day and never had to stop for the night.

  Josie brought that little tidbit of information to Frank’s attention.

  “Um, honey… where are we going to stop for the night? And for that matter, where are we going to sleep?”

  “We’ll stop right here. And we
’ll sleep where we sit. The seats recline almost flat.”

  “But is it safe here? I mean, what if somebody comes out and tries to rob us? Or steal our vehicle? You and Ronnie both agreed a lot of people would love to have a vehicle which could go anywhere. Especially if it could plow its way through the snow.”

  “Honey, look around.

  “I know we didn’t make as much progress as we wanted to. But we’re still twenty or thirty miles from Lubbock. If there’s anybody living out here it’s farmers. And farmers don’t steal from people. They just don’t have it in them.

  “Relax. You’ll sleep more or less like a baby, and tomorrow I’ll let you drive so you won’t get so bored. We’ll be fine, you’ll see.”

  A voice from the back seat called out, “Mister Frank, can I drive some too?”

  Frank looked at Josie. She didn’t want to hurt Eddie’s feelings by saying “no,” or by shaking her head.

  But the look on her face expressed her opinion quite nicely.

  Frank saw that. He really did.

  But the old coot went against her better judgment anyway.

  “I’ll tell you what, Eddie. When we get to a place where the snow pack is lower and we can see the yellow reflector posts on the side of the shoulder, I’ll let you drive for a couple of hours. Okay?”

  “Really, Mister Frank? Oh, boy! I can’t wait!”

  Frank looked again to Josie, who now had a new expression upon her face.

  It was a face all married men recognize.

  A “You’re sleeping on the couch tonight” face.

  Of course, there wasn’t a couch anywhere in sight. And since they were sleeping in the reclined seats of a vehicle, with Eddie in the back seat, Frank certainly couldn’t count on any romance tonight anyway.

  He whispered to her, “I’ll explain later.”

  She whispered back, “I sure hope so.”

  Josie and Frank seldom disagreed about anything important.

  When they did they typically talked it out without arguing or getting angry.

  When the two of them were alone, he’d explain his logic to her.

  He’d tell her that Eddie had his difficulties and limitations, just like every other person in the world.

  Yes, he had a lot more than most folks, but the difference in a differently-abled person and one termed “normal” is simply a matter of degree.

  He’d explain to her that if Eddie never made an effort to spread his wings and fly; if he never tried to push his boundaries, he’d never know which boundaries were artificial and which ones couldn’t be crossed.

  In simpler terms, if he wasn’t allowed to try new things he’d never know exactly how much he could accomplish. He’d just assume, and others around him might assume, that he was incapable of doing things he might be able to master.

  If only given a chance.

  Frank would tell her about one of his mother’s favorite sayings when he was growing up.

  His mother would say, “You kids say you don’t want to try broccoli or spinach or a dozen other things.

  “But how do you know you don’t like them before you even taste them?

  “If you don’t try new things, you never find new things you love.”

  It was kinda like that, Frank would tell Josie.

  If Eddie never tried doing new things, he’d never find new things he could master.

  His potential would go unfulfilled.

  And he’d have fewer tools with which to survive should he ever find himself all alone in this new and cruel world.

  Josie would, Frank knew, have her doubts. She’d give him that look again.

  But Frank would promise that when Eddie took the wheel he’d very closely supervise.

  He’d be ready to grab the wheel at a moment’s notice.

  And besides, he’d say, what better way to provide driving training than when cruising along at the breakneck speed of three miles an hour?

  In the end, Frank knew in his heart, Josie would see that he was right.

  Frank relished those times, for they didn’t happen very often.

  But in the end Josie would agree it made good sense to try to teach Eddie to drive.

  After all, as long as the lessons were tightly controlled and closely supervised, no harm would be done.

  He’d driven before he went to prison. Before one of the other inmates gave him a cocktail of dangerous chemicals, meant for cleaning and not for human consumption.

  The mixture of poisons could well have killed him, as was the intent.

  Instead, Eddie survived with severe damage to his brain. The chemical makeup of the brain had been altered.

  He now had the thinking and reasoning functions not of a grown man, but of a young boy.

  Josie told Frank once that none of the doctors ever assessed his potential.

  The warden’s prison budget was barely enough to buy food. He simply couldn’t afford to hire the best doctors available.

  Instead they went after the doctors and medical staff who’d work for peanuts.

  Great doctors, or even good ones, don’t work for peanuts.

  “They never tested him to see what he could do,” Josie said. “They just decided on their own what they thought he couldn’t do.”

  From that moment on Frank was determined to push Eddie, to find out what he was capable of doing and just wasn’t given the chance to.

  He was determined to prove that Eddie could drive. Perhaps not like a race car driver. But enough maybe to save his life someday by enabling him to drive himself out of a dangerous situation.

  Frank wanted to be right on this one.

  Now, Frank wasn’t always right all the time.

  He was frequently wrong.

  Take his contention that no one would come to call on them when they bedded down for the night.

  He was convinced he was right.

  But he was dead wrong.

  -45-

  Hannah sat across the desk from Captain Wright, trying her best not to cry again.

  “He didn’t give anybody any indication… I mean, he didn’t tell anybody he was going to do it?”

  “No. Unfortunately. If he had he’d have been placed on suicide watch. His sheets would have been taken away from him. He’d have been placed in a special cell that didn’t have sharp corners or bunk outcroppings strong enough to support a man’s weight.

  “The Inspector General is investigating and they haven’t issued their report yet. All I know is what I’ve been told personally by some of the jail staff. The staff psychologist talked to him a couple of days prior and asked him the usual questions.

  “One of them was ‘Do you have any desire to harm yourself or others?’

  “His response was an angry one.

  “He said he wasn’t going to kill himself, and while he was angry enough at General Mannix to wrap his hands around the bastard’s neck and strangle the life out of him, he had no anger or animosity toward anyone else.”

  He forced himself to half-smile.

  “Those were his words, not mine.

  “The staff psychologist has a duty to interview pre-trial inmates weekly and to assess them for threat risk. Based on his response and the fact he didn’t fit the profile, he wasn’t placed on suicide watch after the interview.”

  “What profile?”

  “Studies show that high ranking officers almost never take their own lives.

  “Suicide victims in the military are usually young males in their twenties or thirties. They’re usually married and having marital problems or problems with their neighbors. They’re usually having financial problems as well which may or may not contribute to their marital problems, and they usually have a long paper trail of disciplinary problems at work.

  “Colonel Wilcox was none of that. He was almost seventy years old, and while he wasn’t rich he had plenty of assets to live out his life. His military career was spotless and he was having no domestic disputes with anyone. And he had a strong suppo
rt system in Colonel Medley. He and Medley passed notes daily and appear to have grown quite close while they were in the brig.

  “It was obvious the psychologist, Captain Jamison, did exactly what he was paid to do. He did his required weekly interview, found no reason to reclassify the colonel, and followed protocol by leaving his status as it was.

  “As I said, the IG hasn’t finished his report. But he’ll find no fault with Captain Jamison.”

  Hannah started to sob again. This time she didn’t lose control. This time it didn’t overwhelm her and she was still able to talk.

  “No, sir. I’m afraid the fault is one hundred percent mine.”

  “Hannah, don’t blame yourself. You saw what you saw, and in light of the limited amount of evidence you had you came up with the wrong explanation. It happens all the time. It’s not a crime, and not something you can be faulted for.”

  “Then I should have kept my big mouth shut. I should have kept it to myself.”

  “As a good American, and out of your concern for the citizens of San Antonio, who weren’t getting the food Montgomery said he was growing for them, you blew the whistle.

  “Also not a crime, also something you cannot be blamed for.

  “Now then, Hannah. You wanna come up with another reason to blame yourself, so I can blow you out of the water again? I’m an attorney, remember? I get paid to argue with people and I’m quite good at it.”

  She managed a smile and surrendered.

  “You said the colonels were exchanging notes. What kind of notes?”

  “I don’t know specifically. I’m not allowed to view them, even after the colonel’s death. All I know is what Medley told me.

  “He told me they were looking forward to beating the rap. That they had plans, once they were free men, to prepare their retirement papers and to visit General Mannix personally so they could slap the papers upon his desk. They were going to tell the general to take the papers and to shove them up… well, you get the idea.”

  “Couldn’t they be court-martialed for that too?”

  “Of course. But they didn’t think the general would take that chance and risk a riot.”