by Roger Hayden
“I don’t think that’s going to happen anytime soon,” James said.
“Oh yeah?” the man said, switching to anger. “What makes you the authority?”
James turned his head back with his hands in the air. “It was an electromagnetic pulse. An aerial EMP or something like that.”
The man lowered his pistol, skeptical. “Interesting…”
“Just one of many theories,” James say, inching away. “I do apologize for the inconvenience.”
“Shut up!” the man said, pressing the pistol to his back. “Where are you off to? What's the hurry?”
Marla glanced toward the station wagon and saw the metallic glimmer of something in the distance. Suddenly, a blaring shot rang out through the air, blowing one of the man's windows out. She screamed and hit the ground, flat on her stomach. She looked over and saw James wrestling the man for his gun, rolling around on the pavement.
They shouted at each other, punched and kicked with grunts and cursing in between. Then came a swift right hook into the man's jaw, stunning him. He dropped the pistol and held his face in pain. James backed up and rose to his feet, aiming the pistol downward, not taking any chances.
“You stay right there,” he commanded. “Don't make a move.”
The man rolled to his side, grunting and holding his face. James extended his leg and quickly pushed the gas can toward Marla with his foot. “We'll find another car.”
The man had managed to sit up and continued to hold his face. He glanced up at them both with sheer contempt. “Okay. Where'd that shot come from? He pointed to his shattered passenger window and looked around as James did the same.
Marla scanned the darkness near the station wagon as Larry soon entered their field of vision, holding a hunting rifle. “You're awful lucky, my friend,” he said to the man. “I was aiming at your head.”
The man squinted, confused. “Who the hell are you people?”
Larry approached James and lowered his rifle. “The rear aperture must be busted. I'll have to look at it when we get to the cabin.”
Incensed, Marla spun around to confront him. “Are you crazy? You could have shot one of us.”
Larry glanced at her, dumbfounded, and then back to James. “You both looked like you needed help.”
The man leaned back on his elbows. “Just take my fuel if you want and leave me be.”
Larry responded with a swift kick of his boot into the man's side. Marla gasped as the man curled up, grunting in pain, and told Larry to back off.
Larry tapped the fuel can with the barrel of his rifle. “You heard the man. Let's go.”
James nodded and repositioned himself eye-level with the gas tank. He slipped the plastic tube into the tank, took a deep breath, and then sucked on the end until fuel finally passed through and into his mouth. He yanked the tube away, spitting out a mouthful onto the ground, and then held the end of the flowing tube inside the can like a spigot.
The man remained on the ground, as Larry kept his rifle aimed at him. In his confused state, he looked around and finally noticed their idling station wagon ahead.
“Holy shit,” he said with an astonished look. “Your car runs?” His eyes shot upward to Larry.
“Congratulations,” Larry said, turning away. “You've solved the case.”
The man then made a desperate plea to come along that was met with silence.
Marla's eyes shifted to James and then Larry. She knew what their answer would be, but the guilt of leaving a man stranded on the highway was sure to haunt her. She began to argue for him. “We can't leave him here,” she said with conviction.
“There's no room,” Larry said, assuming the matter decided.
Marla looked to James, but his attention was focused on the steadily filling gas can.
“Come on,” the man continued. “You can drop me off anywhere else.”
“No,” Larry said, walking away.
James pulled the tube out from the gas can as it dripped onto the pavement.
“We can't just leave him here,” Marla said, following Larry.
Larry looked from the man to Marla and back again. “There's no room, for the hundredth time.” He then walked away without another word. Marla watched him, in awe of his callousness. Once he made it back to the vehicle, Larry called for James to bring the fuel can and get moving.
James rose to his feet and walked away with Marla as the man pushed himself up and followed.
“Please! I have a wife and two boys.”
From the outside the car, Larry aimed his rifle again at the man and told him to keep his distance. The man halted and folded his hands together, begging Larry to reconsider but receiving no answer in return. James walked with Marla to the other side of wagon and opened her door.
“It won't be too much longer,” he said.
Marla opened her mouth but couldn’t find the words.
“Just give him a chance, okay?” he continued. “It could be our safest option.”
She glanced at the man standing in the road, calling out to them as Larry sat in the driver's seat and closed the door. It could easily be her asking for a ride. James helped her into her seat for a hasty departure. He looked down and noticed the hole in her jeans and scrapes on her knees.
“You're bleeding.”
“I'm fine,” she said, shrugging it off.
“Hurry up!” Larry said from behind the wheel.
James kissed her forehead and then closed the door.
“At least give me my gun back?” the man pleaded, keeping a safe distance from the car.
James paused in thought as though he was considering it. “Fine,” he said. “But don't try anything you might regret.”
Larry slapped the wheel. “Don't be stupid, James.”
But this time, James didn't listen. He ejected the magazine and tossed the pistol into the grass. The magazine soon followed in the opposite direction. “That’s the best I can do.” He quickly got inside and slammed the door.
They drove past the man, leaving him in the distance. Marla turned and looked out the back window and saw him run to the side of the road to retrieve his gun. He soon faded from view and they continued on without words, the growl of the engine as their speed increased on the open road. Marla was lost in her own thoughts and barely noticed James trying to hand her two Aspirin tablets. She glanced down and grabbed them, taking both with a drink of bottled water.
“Just take it easy?” he said.
“Yeah. Sure,” she said, turning to the window. Nonetheless, she was still angry with him. Who wouldn’t be?
A great open field passed by under the moonlight. They were a mere twenty miles from the state line. Somewhere along the way was Larry's cabin, supposedly tucked within the wilderness and impenetrable to attack.
If she believed half of it, she'd be at ease. She tried not to think of the man they left behind. She told herself that they weren't bad people, and that they would have helped him if the circumstances were different. She stared at the passing field, even more uncertain about what lay ahead. If only she could sleep again and wake up somewhere else. Anywhere but in Larry’s station wagon.
5
Arrival
They soon reached rural Missouri after an hour on the road. At a normal highway speed, the trip wouldn't have taken near as long, but they’d had hazards to consider and Larry had to drive cautiously. The inside of the wagon reeked of gas fumes from the can. Their headlights beamed down an empty two-lane road surrounded by black forest. The rustic landscape was a welcome change to the chaos in the city they had fled. James was confident he had made the right decision, even with Marla not speaking to him. Like her, he had concerns for his family and friends, especially those who lived nearby.
Larry drove fast and steady, now nearing their destination, he explained, in just a few miles. He also told them to be ready for some off-road driving. But once they got to the cabin, he assured them, they'd rest easy at least for the night. James knew that b
ack home, things weren't so pleasant. An untold number of people were dead or injured from the building explosion and the chaos that followed. And there was no way to find out what was happening, no phones or Internet to keep them informed. Larry's wagon didn't even have a radio. James was going through cell phone withdrawal. Being cut off from the world was agonizing, but they were alive and for the time being, safe. And they did have Larry’s primitive radio, which a lot better than nothing.
James considered their long-term options. Marla would only tolerate the cabin for so long, if at all. Larry’s crank-operated emergency radio had worked off and on during the trip. The news it brought them was deeply troubling. Blackouts had spread throughout multiple states. The EMP attacks were hardly exclusive to St. Louis. It was happening all around them, but James didn't want to believe it. No country would dare attack the United States in such a manner. The very idea was absurd.
They drove up a steep hill and continued past a wooden sign barely legible in the darkness. James could see faded white letters that said Willow Creek. He expected Larry to swerve to the right and take them off road at any moment, but they just continued up and down, over sudden steep, then gentle hills as the pavement became less stable, more rutted and rocky.
They passed open fields, lakes, and thick forest. Large mountainous structures could be seen in the distance as shadows. With the window slightly open, the outside breeze felt good against James's face. He closed his eyes, rocking his head to the side, trying to clear his mind of uncertainties, of which he had many. He turned around to check on Marla. Her head was turned toward the window in a blank stare.
“How are you doing?” he asked.
Her eyes slowly shifted toward him. “Fine.” But the shortness of tone indicated just the opposite.
“We're going to get through this,” he told her, but got no response. James expected at much, while remaining hopeful that she’d come around to the idea eventually. Acceptance was the last stage of the grief process, overall.
Larry glanced at Marla through the rear-view mirror and offered a caveat of his own. “We have more radios at the cabin, better than the crank. Good chance they're still working.”
“How so?” James asked.
“Just a hunch.”
Marla feigned a smile and then resumed window watching. The car slowed as they approached a dirt road on the right.
“When was the last time you talked with your wife?” James asked.
“This morning,” he said. “Before the attack. We were going to spend the weekend here. Just so happens she was at the cabin a day early to spruce the place up.”
“Who do you think attacked us?” James asked outright.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Larry said. “Whoever did probably just started World War III.”
They turned onto the dirt road, the ground even more shaky than before. The wagon dipped and rose along the potholes, rattling over the rugged terrain. James gripped his armrest as the car slowed and then sped forward between clear spots. They traveled through sharp curves and steep gullies that brought them deeper into the forest. A cloud of insects appeared across the beams of their headlights. Tree branches scraped against the roof. The already rugged path seemed to get worse the deeper they drove into the forest. Branches grew lower, and the brush was un-cleared along the rough, seldom-traveled, path. The road was no longer visible, dirt or pavement. They were driving through grass, leaves, and brush.
The engine revved as they ascended another hill and then dropped onto a new and bumpy path. James squinted ahead and saw what looked like faint tire tracks, which he assumed Larry was using to guide him. Or maybe he knew the way by heart. They soon reached a straight path, running between rows of pine trees on both sides.
Up ahead sat a small cabin, partially concealed under the branches of looming trees. There was a Ford pick-up parked in front. The eerie sight of a single darkened cabin in the middle of the forest was less than inviting. But Larry had been true to his word so far and had managed to get them there.
“Is your wife going to be okay with this?” James asked.
Larry waved him off. “She won't mind. Don't worry about it.”
“I would,” Marla said, speaking up for the first time.
James and Larry glanced back and then at each other, neither one of them wanting to pick a fight with her.
A litany of questions had entered James's mind, but he didn't want to bombard Larry all at once. From outside, the cabin looked deserted. Larry parked next to the truck and shut the engine off. In the calm of the forest and the settling of dust, they sat for a moment and listened. Larry was the first to get out as James soon followed. He stretched toward the sky and breathed in the fresh air. Marla opened her door and got out, looking around in the darkness that surrounded them. Crickets chirped, their sound melding with the rustling of small unseen, animals, scurrying in the woods. Owls hooted in warning.
James turned around to check on Marla. “Everything okay?”
“Yep,” she said, tucking her hands in her pockets. “I think we're alone now.”
“We sure are,” Larry said, walking around to the back of the wagon. The cabin itself was sitting a few feet above the ground, built on concrete piers. There was a small front deck with an entry door to the cabin in the middle and windows on each side. It had an arched, mansard roof and chimney. It seemed quite small, but workable for their temporary situation. James reminded himself that anything would be better than a shelter or government camp. Tiny sticks and leaves crunched under his shoes. Branches swayed from above in the cooling air. For James, the cabin had potential. It could really work if they let it. Marla would come around in a few days. She'd have to.
Larry had told James that a creek wasn't far from the cabin, where they could draw plenty of fresh water. They even had a garden in the back and were working on a water well. It was everything they could need, as he had put it. But the coming winter would change all of that, if they were still there. The chill of the autumn air in late-October was a constant reminder.
“It's very nice,” Marla said, surprising James with her optimistic tone.
“Thanks,” Larry said. “Carol and I have owned it for about five years now. Our little home away from home. She's retired now and likes to help me around the store. Can't wait for you guys to meet her.” He opened the back and then stood for a moment, thinking. “Let me go check in with her first before we go barging in there.” He walked past them, slapping James on the back. They watched gingerly as Larry walked up the steps to the cabin deck and went to the door. He unlocked and opened it a crack, slipping inside.
James put his arm around Marla and pulled her closer. She placed her head on his shoulder, and for the moment it seemed like all was forgiven. “I know this is strange,” he began as they watched the cabin. “Just give it a chance.”
Marla nodded and then stepped away, pulling her bag from the back seat. “I'm trying the best I can, James.”
James dipped inside the back seat and grabbed his bag as well. In his haste, he hoped he packed enough clothes for them both. Marla was picky about what she wore, and he fully expected the grief that would follow.
They turned toward the house as a flicker of light appeared through a bedroom window. James grabbed his backpack from the front seat and closed the door. He hadn't told Marla yet that he had brought their emergency cash with them or their passports and his handgun. But none of it mattered now. Marla leaned against the hood and stared up at the night sky and its blanket of stars. “It's beautiful.”
James nudged closer to her and took her hand. “So, you forgive me?”
“Don't push your luck,” she said, looking upward.
The cabin door suddenly opened as Larry stepped outside with a lantern, glowing with light. He walked down the steps and approached them, speaking in a quiet tone. “Okay. It's late. Let's unload the wagon and get off to bed.”
“Sounds good to me,” James said, clasping his hand.
“And she's fine with us being here?” James asked again, wanting to be sure.
“Yes,” Larry said as though it was no issue. “I'll show you to your room first.”
James grabbed both his luggage and Marla's as she took some smaller bags. They followed Larry inside, as he led the way. The air was stuffy, and their feet creaked on every floorboard. There was a small living room and adjacent kitchen, open and practically connected, and then a hallway beyond that. Dust motes floated through the air, visible in the beam of light.
Inside, the cabin was even smaller than expected, but it did have two separate bedrooms as Larry had said. He led them past a closed door, then to the end of the narrow hall where their room sat on one side, and a bathroom the size of a broom closet, on the other. Larry entered the room and immediately went to an end table, where he lit the wick of a sizable lantern.
Inside the minimally furnished room was a double bed, neatly made with two pillows. A wardrobe stood in the corner next to a window, blinds closed. It looked cozy enough for the two of them. James followed inside and set their luggage at the foot of the bed as Marla followed.
“I hope you like it,” Larry said, backing away from the lantern. “We've got a working generator, but we only run it when we have to.”
“Makes sense,” James said, pressing down on the mattress. Its springs squeaked. It was an old bed, but their conditions could be worse. They could be in a gymnasium somewhere, sleeping on floor mats.
Larry circled back to the door and waved them over. “Let's get the rest of the stuff,” he whispered. They walked past the other bedroom as James pictured Carol lying in bed and listening to their footsteps. They continued through the living room, where James noticed a fireplace and two small couches positioned across from each other, a rug in the center. The interior was anything but cluttered.
