by Dell Sweet
~
Lydia quickly gathered her things and moved them over to Jake’s area. Stupid bitch, she told herself. She can have the dude. She’d only wanted Jake all along. Chasing after Conner the last few days had been an attempt on her part to make Jake jealous. Jake would take her out of here. She hated this place and everything to do with it, always had. Jake was tough, tougher than the other guy. She didn’t think of it in terms of Alpha Male and territory, but it came down to the same thing. Jake was the top dog. Her top dog.
The fire burned lower as everyone settled in for the night. Some happy, some worried, some undecided, but everyone along for the ride.
ELEVEN
L.A.: March 13th
Beth and Billy
The trek east out of the city was much harder than Billy and Beth had thought it would be.
It was close to noon before they reached Alameda, and decided to try to find some kind of four wheel drive vehicle, at one of the many car lots that dotted the sides of the road.
It had been slow going until they reached El Segundo Boulevard. The stalled traffic had been much lighter there, and they had been able to drive part of the way by cutting into the parking lots of fast food restaurants that dotted almost the entire length of the highway. They had followed that to Willmington, and picked up a truck that had seen better days. Getting the truck had not been a problem; there were several used car lots along the road. They had used the parking lots to swing around the worst of the traffic, and that had worked well until they had intersected Compton Boulevard. It was hopelessly packed with stalled traffic and scattered bodies rotting in the sunshine.
Beth had fashioned rags from a ripped up t-shirt to cover her nose and mouth. A few seconds later Billy had followed suit. The stench was horrific. They had left the truck, which had sounded as if it was close to dying anyway, and struck out on foot again. Beth led the way as they cut cross lots through Compton Woodley Airport.
Crossing the dead airfield had been unnerving for both of them. The runways had cracked, and either lifted skyward, or tilted down into the ground. Several blackened skeletons of large aircraft dotted the airfield. Most of them were so badly burned that they had been unable to tell what they had been before. Billy thought a couple of them may have been military aircraft, but as badly twisted as they were it was impossible to be sure.
One large plane sat tilted skyward on a chunk of runway that had separated from the surrounding pavement. The plane looked untouched, and almost as though it was some sort of rocket ship waiting to be launched skyward. Luggage, some burned, some untouched, was scattered across the airfield in every direction, and many of the suitcases were burst, with papers and clothing scattered, everywhere along with other personal effects. There were bodies here too.
On their way through the city they had seen more and more bodies. It had been unsettling to both of them. The bodies they had seen had not been killed by the Earthquakes. They bore gunshot wounds, and appeared to have been dead for only a short period. Possibly only the last two or three days, they decided.
The bodies at the airport were concentrated around the terminal building. The huge glass windows were peppered with holes, and in some cases completely blown inward, as if a battle had taken place for the terminal. Most of the bodies inside were concentrated behind the long rows of seats in the main lobby, as if they had been trying to use the seats for cover. It had apparently done no good. They paused only briefly, wondering what had occurred before they moved on. The overwhelming stench in the shattered terminal building drove them out. A few of the wrecked planes, where they had expected to see bodies scattered all around, were empty.
Occasionally they heard gunfire around them, and twice explosions from further north, behind them, had startled them. They had hurried along fearing the sounds, but fearing more the possibility that the owners of the guns might find them. They walked in silence across the remainder of the shattered airfield, and they were both glad when they left it behind them and eventually came to 91. 91 was traffic packed and they made their way across the steel roof tops once more, crossing under 91 on South Central and making their way along the sides of the road to E Del Amo Boulevard.
Here, like the MLK Highway, black topped parking areas fronted all manner of fast food restaurants, store chains and shops, which bordered both sides of the strip. It wouldn't necessarily assure a way around the stalled traffic, Billy realized, but it appeared as though it would give them a much better chance of getting to 405.
Billy led them towards the rear garage area of the dealership, where they found a full size four wheel drive Chevy pickup. Billy had worked at a dealership before, and recognized the garage area as the prep shop.
“When someone buys a new car,” Billy said, “or truck, or whatever, they have to prep it. Take the plastic off the seats, fill the tank, wax it, sort of get it ready for the customer, you know?”
“I thought they came from the factory all ready to go?” Beth said.
“Well, they do, sort of,” Billy agreed, “but they have plastic over the seats to protect them, and oil drips from the cars overhead on the transport trucks; dirt gets tracked into them when the guys move them around the lot. Sometimes they may have a scratch, or small dent that the body shop guys have to fix, and they get paint over-spray all over the car; dust in it, you name it. I used to have to prep cars, and it's not much fun. Minimum wage type of job and the salesman who sold the car is usually breathing down your neck all the time you're getting it ready. I hated it. I figured though, if we're going to find a truck all ready to go, this would be the first place to look. Gassed up and the whole nine yards. They even waxed it for us.” Billy finished, trying to break the somber mood that had set in as they crossed the airfield.
His effort worked partially, Beth offered him a small smile as she spoke. “You know a lot of things don't you?”
“Not really,” Billy said. “I just worked at a lot of different jobs. Mainly just to stay employed, but also because I believe you should learn as much as you possibly can. It worked for me. I grew up with a lot of guys who were constantly unemployed. Maybe they were carpenters, or roofers, or auto mechanics, whatever. When things would get bad, they'd get laid off. Not that I never got laid off, I did, but if I got laid off I could go to work somewhere else fairly quickly. I can practically build a house from the ground up, and do all the rough and finish, electrical, plumbing, and carpentry. The same with cars. I just learn well I guess, and it paid off. Someday I'd like to build my own house.”
“I've always wanted to own a house,” Beth said, the tentative smile had grown wider as she listened to Billy talk. “I never thought I would live anywhere except that crummy apartment. If I never own a house I guess that would be fine with me, as long as I never have to live in that dump again.”
Billy was nodding his head as she finished speaking. “I know what you mean. I had a crummy little place in a little town in northern New York. I used to take all the overtime I could get, so I wouldn't have to go back to it too soon. I really hated it, I mean totally. I had this dream of buying some land and building my own house: When this is over that's what I would like to do. Just find a nice place and build a house. Maybe have some cows, I don't know much about cows, but I could learn. I guess that sounds kind of stupid, but it really is what I want to do, and if I make it through this in one piece, I'm going to.”
“It doesn't sound stupid to me at all,” Beth said, “in fact it sounds like a good plan, a good dream to hold on to. I've never really dared to dream. I guess you know that. I'm not making any excuses, and I'm not really ashamed of how I lived. I really didn't have many choices. It seems now though, as if I do. I guess now it's okay to dream. You think?”
“I think so,” Billy agreed. “I mean if you can't dream, what's the use, right?” she nodded her head as if to say yes before Billy continued. “Like, I live my life, and you live your life. You believe what you want, and I'll believe what I want. You see?”
“I had family, but... Well, you know.... I don't want to get into that. Suffice to say I couldn't be with them. So I was on the street when I first came here... I had to live. I prayed. I prayed a lot, but God never seemed to hear me. You could say I just gave up. I lost a lot of friends on the streets. It's sort of like a family, I don't know if you can understand that, or not, but it is. We all tried to watch out for one another, but it didn't always help. When you live your life that way, you can't expect to get any help from the cops either. I guess I just tried to stay alive from day to day.” She laughed, “And it was all about to change... I didn't see you, but they gave me the job playing.” She had lost her smile as she spoke, replacing it with a wistful pursing of her lips and a sadness that sat deeply within her eyes.
Billy nodded his head and they both fell silent for a few seconds.
“Beth,” Billy said. “It really doesn't matter anymore. I'm the last guy who would ever think of judging you. Believe me. I've screwed my life up so many times it's not funny. As far as I'm concerned what you did, you had to do. It doesn't make you a bad person at all, and it doesn't have any bearing on who you are now. I mean that sincerely.”
Now it was her turn to nod her head. She hadn't realized it, but his opinion mattered to her, and what he said allowed the small smile to re-surface on her face. She had told herself that she didn't care what he thought about her, but she knew even as she told herself that, that she was wrong. It did matter. It mattered a great deal.
They walked together to the back of the garage, and pushed up the steel overhead door. It took a few minutes to move a couple of the cars out of the way, so that they could drive the pickup out of the garage and into the lot behind the dealership.
Billy drove the truck across the grassy back lot, and stopped at the rear of a gas station to look for a state map. Beth followed him into the deserted station.
She filled a paper bag with some groceries, mostly canned goods, while Billy opened the map and studied it on the counter at the front of the station.
“Looks like the best way out,” Billy said, “Is still going to be 91. We passed it, we'll have to back track to catch it. We should be able to skirt around most of the traffic, shouldn't we?”
“Believe it or not, I don't really know,” Beth answered. “I mean I live here, or did, but I didn't get out of the city at all, or hardly ever, so I don't know what it's like.”
She paused and looked at Billy as he bent over the map. He smiled as he spoke.
“I actually understand that,” he said. “I didn't really know a lot about getting around outside of Watertown where I grew up, and you saw how I was here. Maybe I knew my way around for a handful of blocks, but that was it. I guess you learn how to get to the places you need to get to, and that's about it. No real big deal though. According to the map there are a lot of loops, sort of side roads that go around, and run parallel to 91, and hey, we've got four wheel drive, we can cut through the fields if we have to, right? That will get us to ten and ten is our ticket east.”
Beth shrugged her shoulders, as she replied. “I guess?” The attempt at humor was not lost on her, and she flashed a smile at him as she shrugged her shoulders again. “I guess if the cows don't mind.”
Billy grinned back, and they both laughed a little as they walked back out to the truck.
“You know,” Billy said as they climbed into the cab of the truck, “we should stop and pick up a couple of sleeping bags, and maybe a tent too. We still need to pick up a couple more rifles too.” He didn't want to alarm her, or make her start to worry, by bringing the subject up once more, but the truth was that he was fairly worried himself. If there were armed people running around killing whoever they chose too, it would be kind of stupid, he thought, not to have better weapons. Beth had the pistol, and her rifle. Billy had his own pistol and a rifle, but he wasn't sure it would do a lot of good. He wasn't a good shot. She surprised him when she not only agreed, but didn't seem to lose her smile when she did.
“I think it would be stupid not to stock up on whatever we can, guns included,” she said, echoing Billy's thoughts. “Do you know much about them?”
“Not really,” Billy confessed, “I've never even shot a rifle, you know, just never learned, I guess, or even wanted to. I think I could learn though. You know anything about them?”
“Well, now that you mention it, I do. At least a little. Not from shooting one, but more from seeing them. There are a lot of pawn shops on Beechwood, sort of goes with the territory, I guess. That's where I got this,” she said, holding up her small pistol, “We got the rifles from a smashed in pawn shop... The has to be another pawn shop or sporting goods shop out here somewhere, right?” Almost as she spoke Billy spotted one across the crowded interstate.
“There is one,” Billy said as he pointed.
They left the truck beside the stalled traffic, and walked through and around the cars to the large shop. They spent the better part of the afternoon outfitting themselves from the racks in the shop and carrying what they needed across the road to the truck. The pickup had a black vinyl bed cover. They opened it, stored the tent and the sleeping bags along with the other camping gear inside it, and then snapped the cover back into place.
“It probably won't keep everything totally dry,” Billy said, “if it rains, I mean. This is kind of more for show than actual protection,” he said indicating the cover. “But it should still do all right.”
They had both picked up weapons in the shop. Billy had picked out a deer rifle, a fairly impressive looking Remington. He had also picked up several boxes of the ammunition the rifle took. Beth had settled on an entirely different sort of weapon. It looked more like a machine gun of some sort to Billy, than anything else, and she picked up several boxes of ammunition for it, and several spare clips. She explained to him that it really wasn't a rifle, but a machine pistol, and that it could fire better than seventy rounds a second if it were converted to full automatic. This one wasn't, she said, but she had seen some that were. To Billy it still looked like a machine gun, and he joked that the sight of it alone would probably scare anyone off.
By the time they had loaded the truck and gotten under way it was late afternoon. Even with the late start, and the slow going due to the stalled traffic, they managed to make it to the Colorado River in Ehrenberg Arizona just before nightfall.
The country had been turning more arid as they drove, the river was a oasis. Off to the north giant plumes of smoke blanketed the sky, seeming to spread across the entire length of the horizon. They had both wondered what it might be. Beth had checked the map and she thought it could be Yellowstone or something close to Yellowstone.
Shops, stores, and even an RV park had sprung up around the interchange. They foraged for food in the late afternoon and gassed up the truck before evening began to take the sunlight. The air had a bitter, hot smell to it, the river flowed sluggishly, the water gray, and a scum of yellow white foam and ash rode the slow current. They sat in the truck and ate quietly while the map lay open across their legs and the seat top. Their eyes would drop to the map and then jump back up to scan the area. It had seemed too quiet, and there were no bodies anywhere. No sign of life either, and the stores and shops had not been looted. Some were still locked up. Empty RV's in the park when they rolled slowly through it. Neither liked the feeling, the whole place just felt wrong.
“Billy,” Beth waited until his eyes left the map and met her own. He lifted them to follow her own gaze. “The silver
building over to the right. The door just opened and then closed.”
Billy frowned. “Not something someone willing to meet us would do, is it?”
“We didn't think they would come out in the daylight,” Beth said.
As billy watched he saw the door edge open slightly and then close just as slowly. “Saw it... I don't like it. They know we're here and they're checking us out.” He dropped his eyes back to the map.
“Okay,” he said after a few moments. “Lets get back on the road. That takes us away from civilization to a degree. Eventually that will bring us back into Arizona, but there's a lot of desolation between here and there, at least on the map.”
“Desolation is fine as long as the gangs aren't there.” Beth said quietly.
“Less likely to be,” Billy agreed.
A few minutes later they were running through the desert that ran alongside I 10. There were not a great many cars or trucks there, but in several places there had been wrecks that closed lanes down. With no one to clear them they would have ended up in the desert anyway. And there seemed to be a dirt road that ran beside I-10 for as far as they could see.
The landscape in the distance had been changing as they drove the day away, but with the sun setting a few hours after they set out once more it was hard to tell what the surrounding countryside was like. Billy dropped speed and flicked the trucks high beams on. A short while later Beth was sleeping, her head heavy against Billy's arm. He drove through the night and into the early morning before she woke again.
Old Towne: Conner and Katie
James leaned around the hood and looked through the windshield of the old Suburban. He nodded. “Try it, Jake.”
The motor turned over a half dozen times, then suddenly fired and rumbled to life. Jake gave it a little more gas, pulled out the old fashioned choke. The motor smoothed out and began to run a little better.
James backed away from the engine compartment, a large smile on his face. “Know what this means?” he asked, raising his voice to be heard above the noisy truck.
Jake grinned and nodded back. “As long as they’re not electronically controlled, they’ll run. We should be able to find a few more.”
James nodded in agreement.
They had found the old Suburban in a lot out in back of one of the car dealerships on outer Washington Street. The lot itself was wrecked; the buildings not much better, but hundreds of new cars and trucks sat on the cracked pavement, or pointed their noses or tails at the sky where they were half buried. The Suburban had been set up with a plow, and they all agreed it was probably just used to plow the lot.
Before they had even gone looking for a vehicle, Jake and James had gone hunting for a small gasoline powered engine. Lawn mower, leaf blower, it didn’t matter, just something small without an electronic ignition or brain. They’d come up with a heavy duty chain saw. Several tugs and a little choke had gotten it running. That had convinced them that it would be worth finding an older, full size truck.
“We could convert one of these newer trucks. It would take some work but if we can find the right parts we could do it,” Jake said.
“Maybe,” James agreed. “Trouble is finding a block that’s still the same. Heads, intake, it’s a lot to hope for. It would be easier to just fix the old stuff up. New tires, battery, we could even do the axles if we absolutely had to.”
Jake nodded his head. “Hmm,” he grumbled. “Guess so.”
James turned away. It was obvious to him that Jake didn’t like being disagreed with or second guessed. Yes, parts were parts, and if they were just parts, no problem. There were even kits to convert non-electronic ignition motors over to electronic ignition, but not the other way around. There were motors, built mostly for racing applications that were designed to use carburetors and simple distributors. There were things they could do, but it wasn’t simple black and white.
He had been seeing more and more of this close minded attitude from Jake since they had moved into the factory. Jake had lost his place as leader. It didn’t matter that he had been nearly the only one who had seen himself that way. He had seen the situation that way, and now the situation had changed. He didn’t see himself as leader any longer, and he didn’t like it. Oh well, James thought. He’d get over it, or he wouldn’t. There was nothing for it except to watch it happen, whatever way it happened.
Jake let the truck idle high for a few minutes then reset the choke dropping the idle down to normal.
“We got wheels,” Lydia said happily. She, Conner, Katie and Jan had come walking back from further down the lot. Pulled by the sound of the truck starting from where they had been searching for other vehicles that would be good candidates for starting.
“We found three others that seem as though they might work out,” Conner said. “One's an old crew cab state truck the other two are old pickups. All three are four wheel drives.” He grinned at James.
James laughed. “Well let’s go get them,” he said. He turned and started away.
“Hey,” Jake said, leaning against the door of the truck, “Wouldn’t you rather drive?”
James laughed again. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Much rather.” Everybody piled into the Suburban. Jake pulled out of the back of the lot and headed back in the direction the others had come from.
Route 104: Mike and Candace
Early Morning
The next morning they were on the road early. The going was still slow, but by noon they were on the outskirts of Alton, a small town about forty miles from Rochester. They were only thirty or so miles from Webster where they would turn off 104, and take route 250 into the small village of Fairport.
A run-down general store, with two old gas pumps sitting on a chipped concrete island, was all that marked the small town. The low speeds and constant use of the four wheel drive, had taken a toll on the fuel tanks of all three vehicles, so when Mike had spotted the small store as they passed a sign for the township limits; they had pulled off into the dirt parking area. The other two Jeeps followed him in and lined up by the pumps.
When Candace and Terry, along with Gina, had first picked up the jeeps, they had filled the tanks by siphoning gas from the dealership's underground tanks. It had been a fairly easy process as Terry had worked at a gas station before, and had been responsible for, among other things, checking the levels of the tanks and comparing them on a daily basis to the numbers on the pumps to make sure they matched up. He had known where to look for them. The tanks were fairly simple to access. A long piece of hose slipped down into the tank had been adequate to siphon the gas into cans and then fill the Jeeps.
Terry had found a hand operated pump, mainly used to pump kerosene from cans into small heaters, at the department store back in Oswego, and, along with Dave, had adapted the crank operated pump to use it to pump gasoline. The adaptation had been simple. A long section of heavy hose had been slipped over the pumps short tube, and held in place with a small hose clamp.
One by one the Jeeps were pulled over next to the underground tanks, and quickly filled. Candace had been impressed with the idea. It was a lot better than the mouthfuls of gas they had swallowed filling the Jeeps back in Watertown.
After the Jeeps were gassed up they decided to take a short break and eat lunch. They were all getting sick of the canned meat, so they foraged through the small general store to see what was available. Once each had found what they wanted, they had carried it out onto the wide front deck to eat.
Mike sipped at a cold beer while he sat in an old wooden chair eating a large bag of chips. Bob and John were talking quietly beside him.
“Where do you think the best place to go is?” Bob asked of John. They had been discussing several places where people may have gathered. They were all hoping to find other people once they arrived in Rochester, but until now they had not discussed where to go once they arrived.
John answered. “Well, the compass is open. I think it would be a good idea to stay away from the North si
de though. The whole area has been run down for years, and I'm not so sure we'd want to meet anyone who was still alive in there.”
“That bad, huh?” Mike asked.
“Actually, more than that bad,” he replied. “When I was still living there, and still on the City Council, I remember we had constant problems there. The city was always being accused of not caring much about the north side, and to be honest it was based in fact to a certain extent. The city and the council, me included I hate to admit, did let it run down pretty much. Trouble was, when we tried to retake the neighborhoods we couldn't.”
“Why?” Bob asked. “Didn't you have support from the neighborhoods?”
“Not really,” John said. “Don't get me wrong. There were still a lot of good people trying to live there, but by the time the city stepped in, drugs had pretty much taken over. It got so the police couldn't even go in there after dark. The drug dealers knew it and used it to their advantage. After a while... well, the good people who had tried to change things just left. The last time I was there, on Clifford Avenue, it was pretty bad. We, myself, and two other board members, decided to take a tour through some neighborhoods ourselves, to see just how bad it had gotten. We had to have a police escort, and even then we ended up seeing only a small part. Most of the neighborhoods were full of drug houses, prostitution, burned out buildings. I'll tell you, truthfully, it scared me. That was one of the reasons I didn't run again and ended up moving to Watertown.”
“A lot of parts of Watertown were like that too,” Mike said. “I got to the point where I really had begun to hate the place.”
“I know exactly what you mean,” John said. “Don't get me wrong. I'm not glad that this happened, but... who knows how much worse things would have gotten? At least now there's a chance to start over again, maybe.”
“You know what really got to me?” Bob asked. Both men looked at him waiting for him to speak.
“You know where Mobile Alabama is?” they both nodded. “Well, I was down there a few years back to see a buddy of mine I was in the Navy with. We were always telling each other we were going to get together and finally we did. So we were driving down Airport Boulevard, kind'a the main street so to speak, and I was, you know, sort of looking around out the window. Sightseeing, I guess you could say. Anyway, I see this young girl standing in the middle of the island that splits the lanes holding a sign. I figured it was one of those 'Will work for food' signs, but as we got closer I saw it wasn't. I could also see she was pregnant, couldn't have been more than sixteen or so. I asked my friend to slow down so I could read the sign. I couldn't believe it.”
“Well, what did it say?” John asked.
“Well, it was misspelled, you know, but it said, 'I'm pregnant and abandoned, please help me.' I couldn't believe it, so I asked my buddy to turn around and go back, but by the time he did she was gone. I couldn't believe that things had come to that.”
“That's bad all right,” Mike said. “I've seen the other signs, the food signs, but I've never seen one like that.”
“I haven't either,” John said, “but I can't say it surprises me a lot.”
“Well,” Bob continued, “that wasn't the end of it, two days later I picked up the paper and there was an article about her in it. I guess I wasn't the only one who had seen her. The police had picked her up earlier, and told her not to stand there with that sign. That was in the morning, and it was afternoon when I went by, so she must have come back. Quite a few people had seen her back there in the afternoon, according to the paper. Well, the thing is that somebody did stop and pick her up, but not to help her. They found her body in the bay the next morning. If they hadn't picked her up the day before, they probably wouldn't have known who she was, but they did, I guess. The story said they had fingerprinted her, and taken pictures too. I guess they arrested her, ain't that a slap in the face? Anyhow, that's how they identified the body... I've always wondered about it. Who would just abandon her in the first place? I mean, being pregnant and homeless? I've always felt that I should have convinced my buddy to stop right there. Fuck the traffic, just stop and pick her up...”
“...So, I've gotten pretty sick of the world myself. It never seemed to stop, and it seemed that people kept coming up with more ways to be cruel. To tell the truth, I'm glad it's mostly gone, I hated it that much.”
When Bob finished they were all silent for a few minutes.
Mike thought about the food signs. How many times had he seen them? Countless, he guessed, but he had never stopped. He had been, well, sort of afraid to.
“I think we all made our share of mistakes,” Mike said. “I know I did. I wish I hadn't, but I did. I guess maybe things are better, in a way,” Mike finished his beer, got up, and retrieved three cold ones from the cooler in the Jeep. He handed one to each of the men before he sat back down in the chair.
“So,” John said, easing back into the conversation of where to go once they arrived in Rochester. “North side is out I think, there's no way I'd want to go back in there, especially now. East side is mostly old mansions; East Avenue, Park Avenue. West is made up of mostly poor neighborhoods and shopping centers, and farther out small business. South side is a mix, some places are as bad as the North side, and others are as nice as the east side. Farther out though, it's all malls and big discount stores. I'd say downtown would be a good place to start looking.”
“Why?” Bob asked.
“Just a hunch, I guess,” he replied. “But where did you go after it happened?”
“I see your point,” Bob said. Downtown, Bob thought, was the first place he had thought of going. It made sense to him that it should be the first place to at least check.
“We'll have to walk, at least I'm pretty sure we will,” John said.
“I believe you,” Mike agreed. “A city that size has a lot of traffic I suppose.”
“Unbelievable,” John said. “An awful lot of it ends up on the Can-of-Worms, but its heavy downtown too. There are still a lot of small companies down there, so I'm fairly certain we'll have to walk down. We should be able to get within a block or two of the War Memorial though, and that's dead downtown. City Hall is across from that, and if there are people, that's where they should be. Of course the only real way to find out is to get there and see.”
The small caravan pulled back out onto the highway and continued on a few minutes later. Long before they reached Webster the stalled traffic began to back up, and they lost a great deal of time winding their way through it, or where that was not possible, pulling into the center traffic divider to get around it.
Even the center divider, a narrow, sloped grassy area double the width of the two lane highway, began to fill up with stalled vehicles, and several times they were forced to get around some other way. Fortunately the areas along the highway were crowded with small restaurants, shopping malls, and gas stations; the closer they got to Rochester. And they all had feeder roads. Roads that were mostly empty now.
The parking lots were fairly empty, and they managed to get around the stalled traffic that way.
When they reached Webster it was nearly 6:00 PM, and a light rain had begun to fall. The exit and entrance ramps were packed solid with cars, and impassable: As a consequence they were forced to drive the Jeeps down the side of the steep escarpment to the road below. Some cars appeared to have either been trying to enter or exit using the wrong ramps, and the results had been catastrophic.
Most of the cars were crushed and blackened shells. A large gasoline tanker sat amid the wreckage. The tanker had apparently tried to exit the entrance ramp and had crashed and burned.
It looked as though gas, from the ruptured tanker, had spread the flames under the entire bridge, and everything had caught. Mike supposed that several of the cars gas tanks had probably exploded too, helping to fuel the inferno.
Once they had negotiated the steep and muddy embankment and driven out of Webster the stalled traffic eased up.
“Most likely every
one stuck to the main routes,” John said. “I'd hate to see what the Thruway looks like though, it's probably packed tighter than a drum.” The others nodded agreement.
Even though the stalled traffic had lessened, they were still forced to detour off the road several times to avoid accidents or vehicles that seemed to have been abandoned in the middle of the road. It was well after 8:00 PM when they reached the four corners in the small village of Fairport, and the sky was beginning to darken. The rain was coming down harder.
Mike angled the Jeep into a deserted gas station and they all ran toward the door which had been left propped open, thankful they were out of the rain.
They were no sooner inside, when the rain began to pelt the tarmac outside in great sheets. The sky darkened rapidly, and a stiff wind kicked up, blowing the trash that littered the streets through the air.
Mike was staring out the wide glass window when suddenly the street lights began to glow. Within a few minutes they were all glowing brightly, illuminating the wind driven sheets of rain. Candace walked over and flicked on a switch next to the door, and bright fluorescent lights buzzed to life overhead. She clicked on several of the other switches next to the first one, and the outside sign, along with the pump islands lit up.
“Looks like you were right, Bob,” Mike said. Bob, grinning, blew lightly on his finger tips and rubbed them on his shirt. “Elementary, my dear Watson,” he said, still grinning.
He was still grinning a few seconds later, when Lilly began to point out the window and screamed excitedly.
“Look!” she exclaimed, “a truck, people!”
Everyone quickly crowded toward the windows to look out.
An older Chevy sat at the curb idling, its wipers throwing great sheets of water from the windshield. The darkened side windows gleamed, reflecting back the bright glare of the station lights. Lilly, and several of the others were waving through the glass in an attempt to get the drivers' attention.
“Looks like a Suburban... Where did it come from?” Mike asked, puzzled.
“I don't know,” she replied. “I turned around and there it was. Aren't they going to come in?”
“Maybe they're afraid,” Candace said, shrugging her shoulders. “They must see us.”
Everyone stood silently for a few seconds staring out at the Suburban. It still sat at the curb, and it appeared to Candace that the person or people inside it were not going to come in. Just as she had the thought though, the car reversed, and began to slowly back up towards the entrance to the station.
When it reached the station entrance, it pulled slowly onto the edge of the pavement and stopped.
“What are they doing,” Terry asked, sounding slightly afraid.
Everyone else turned towards Mike expecting that he might be able to answer the question.
“I don't know,” Mike said. “Could be they're afraid, like Candace said.”
“Might be better to flick off the inside lights,” Bob said, in a low tone of voice. “It doesn’t look as though they intend to say hello.” He peered out at the truck.
Candace reached over and flicked off the inside lights.
Almost immediately the Suburban's headlights came on and it pulled ahead slightly, angling the beams into the station interior. The lights flicked up to high beams, flooding the interior in harsh bright light. Almost as soon as the lights had flicked up, the two front doors opened and two shadowed figures stepped out into the rain. The headlights were blinding.
“Listen, man,” One of the figures shouted in a deep voice. “You ain't welcome here. You come into the city and you will get fucked up.” Silence held, rain drummed against the steel roof. The figures got back into the car. The headlights winked out.
Tiny spots floated in front of Mike’s eyes and he quickly blinked them away. The truck was backing slowly into the road, away from the station.
“What in hell are they doing?” Dave asked, looking at Bob. “What the hell was that all about?” he asked again.
Bob shrugged. “I guess we've been warned... I didn't much like it, I can tell you.”
“I didn't much like that either,” Mike said as he looked over at Dave. Bob stood beside him, his eyes locked on the car.
Once the Suburban reached the roadway it pulled slowly up to the stop sign at Route 250 and once again sat idling, its lights still off. Mike tried squinting his eyes tighter, to see into the darkened side windows, but they were pitch black, like a limousine, he thought.
“What should we do,” Gina asked? Mike looked at her, and it was obvious she was frightened. In fact, he noticed, everyone, himself included, seemed frightened. Terry was the only one who had brought a rifle into the station with him and Mike noticed it.
“Terry, give me that,” he said motioning at the rifle.
“Be careful, Mike,” Bob said, “No telling what they're up to. I don't know if it's wise to go out there.”
“Don't!” Candace said, turning to face Mike. She seemed on the verge of panic.
“Don't worry,” he said. “I only want to show them we're armed... maybe they'll take off. Think they're armed, Bob?” Mike asked.
“I don't know, but who knows how friggin' long they were sitting out there watching us, if they'd wanted to shoot us they could have easily. The lights in here probably lit us up like a damn Christmas tree,” Bob stated. “I ain't so sure you should be going alone if you're going out there though. I'm going too.” Terry and Dave followed them out the door.
The four men advanced slowly toward the car in the pouring rain. The Suburban stayed put, its engine softly idling, and curls of white exhaust floating up through the sheets of rain. They stopped about ten feet from the still idling car, and Mike stepped to the front of the small group with the rifle clutched in both hands. He didn't want to seem too threatening, but he wanted them to see the rifle.
“Hey, you in the car!” He shouted above the deafening roar of the rain. The taillights flashed briefly as if in answer, and a cold chill crept up Mike’s spine. He shuddered involuntarily. “What the hell is with these guys,” he muttered, to no one in particular.
“They are some kind of assholes all right,” Bob whispered. Mike looked over and saw that they were all shaken. He tried again.
“Hey, what's the problem?”
He had meant for the question to come out strong and loud, but it had not. Instead, the words had seemed to choke up inside him, and had sounded strangled when they had come out. The eerie feeling had gotten stronger, and Mike noticed that he felt an almost panicky urge to run back towards the station.
He looked at the others, and noticed they seemed to be panicked as well. What the hell, he wondered, as he fought to control the panic. He found himself suddenly raising the rifle and aiming at the car.
“Don't shoot the bastard,” Bob whispered.
“Don't intend to. I just... I...”
Just after he began to lower the rifle, the Suburban's headlights suddenly flicked on, and the rear tires spun on the slick pavement, smoking and screaming as they clawed for purchase. The engine whined higher in pitch and the big Suburban seemed to jump out into the intersection. Mike watched as it skewed around sideways on the wet asphalt and roared off towards Webster. A passenger leaned out the window and aimed a rifle at them.
The rifle in Mike's hands bucked and the rear window of the Suburban burst inward in a spray of glittering black diamonds as it sped away. The shooter ducked back inside. Shapes moved and shifted in the back of the Suburban, maybe as many as half a dozen, Mike thought, maybe even more. No way to know, he decided. The pitch of the motor rose higher, and a few seconds later the taillights slipped out of sight.
“Christ.” Mike said, as his dry mouth tried to work.
“I counted at least eight with the driver and passenger,” Bob confirmed.
Mike could still hear the Suburban accelerating in the distance over the sound of the rain as it sped away, and feel the heavy pounding blat of its engine in the pavement under hi
s feet. The four men turned away and walked slowly back towards the station in silence.
Mike stopped at one of the Jeeps before they entered, and waited for the other three to catch up.
“Listen,” he said in a low tone, almost a whisper. “I don't think it's wise to scare the shit out of the others. Maybe we should tell them the back was empty. Agreed?”
Terry was still swallowing convulsively, but nodded his head up and down like a puppet. Bob and Dave both mumbled agreement.
“Terry,” Mike hissed, “snap out of it. It won't do any good if we walk in there with you looking like that.” Terry nodded and tried to calm down. “Maybe you can get Terry aside and talk to him, Dave.”
Just as Mike had finished speaking, the door to the station swung open, and the people inside poured out into the rain. Candace, looking badly shaken, walked towards them with her hands folded across her chest.
“They all had guns... The ones in the back, Mike,” she said. “I looked, we all looked, Mike.... When you shot out the back window.”
Her voice had risen as she spoke, and at the end she was nearly screaming. Mike pulled her to him and held her in the rain. To hell with it, he thought, keeping secrets was never one of my strong suits anyway. It's probably better this way.
“Mike,” Bob said. “I think it might be best if we stay here for tonight, instead of going into the city. I also think we ought to pull the Jeeps inside the service bays for the night... keep an eye on them. Probably ought to keep the rifles with us from now on too.”
“I guess you're right, Bob. Candace, why don't you and the others go back inside and get the doors up. We'll pull the Jeeps in... Okay?” She hugged him fiercely before she let go and ran back into the station. The three of them quickly drove the Jeeps into the service bays, and then locked the wide doors behind them. They locked the front door to the station as well, and they all walked back into the rear section of the garage bays by a small parts room.
Mike propped open the door to the parts room, and turned a small light on inside. The bulb was dim, but flooded weak yellow light out into the garage area, it was enough, he felt, if the Suburban came back he didn't want them to be perfectly silhouetted inside the station by the florescent overheads in the garage bay.
Candace and Connie began to fix some cold sandwiches, while the others unloaded the sleeping bags and ice chests from the Jeeps.
Mike was into his second beer and his heart was just beginning to resume a somewhat normal beat. Terry walked back from the front of the garage where he had been staring out into the rain. They all half expected the Suburban to come roaring back at any second. The rifles were out of the Jeeps now. Close at hand, just in case. Candace and Connie brought a large stack of sandwiches over, and both grabbed a cold drink, sitting down as Bob began to speak.
“This changes everything,” he said to no one in particular. “I don't think it's a good idea to just ignore it either.”
Mike took a deep gulp of the beer before he spoke. “I guess you're right, Bob and, it was stupid to think we should keep it to ourselves. I shouldn't have suggested it.” He looked around at the small group of frightened people and his eyes locked on Candace's as he continued to speak. “I thought it would shake everyone up for no reason,” he said. The argument seemed empty and somewhat foolish even to him. “Bob's right though. We started to discuss it back in Watertown, and didn't. Maybe we should have...I don't know.”
His eyes were sad, Candace noticed, and he shrugged his shoulders helplessly when he finished. Silence hung thick in the air for a few minutes until Bob reluctantly began to speak again.
“I don't pretend to have an answer for one,” he said quietly, as he looked around from one to the other. “I guess we can only go with what we know for now. What I mean is what we know from our own personal experience back in Watertown,” he waited but no one spoke.
Bob continued. “I said before that I spent the night at the gravel pit, and I did, but I didn't sleep. I couldn't. I was too keyed up. Hell, we all were. Whatever this is it looks a lot worse now than it did then. This little trip has proven that it was not a localized thing. Probably Rochester is gone,” he shrugged. “No way to know, but is it worth an armed fight to find out? That sounds nuts, right?”
“No... Sounds sane,” Mike said. “We knew this, I think. I think we knew this. Maybe not that it would go this bad this fast, but I think we suspected... Suspected is a good word.”
“Possibly,” Bob replied. He shook his head. “No, most likely. Most likely subconsciously we knew and didn't want to face it. I guess the pretending is over now though... Maybe that's for the best before one of us gets killed taking too much for granted.”
Mike nodded. “I... No, Bob, I don't think you're nuts, if you are then we all are. I think the world ended. I mean the sensible part we all understood. I don't know what in hell this part is... I mean there has got to be some way to explain or at least understand this.”
“You just did,” Candace said quietly from beside him.
“She's right, Mike,” Bob said, “You did. I don't think this is a rational or predictable world anymore. If it isn't, then all that's left, Is simply survival or,” he motioned toward the outside, “Death... Let those people tell you how to live... Or Worse. There is no in between anymore, no walking the fence, the gloves are off, just one or the other.”
“So what’s next?” Gina asked, expectantly.
“If I knew that,” Bob answered. “I guess I would be God. I'm not, so I don't know...”
“...Just to make my position clear though, I don't intend to start waxing religious, but you can bet that I might just start praying. It used to seem superstitious to me. Not anymore. Now it seems important.”
Silence hung in the air for a few moments, and Connie spoke up. “But what should we do? Should we go back, or go into Rochester, or should we maybe go somewhere else?”
“I think that question needs to be answered by all of us individually,” Bob replied calmly. “It's not a question one person can answer, and we've pretty much stuck together so far, I can't see splitting up if there's a disagreement. I think we all need to decide together.”
“I don't see any reason to go back to Watertown,” Lilly said
“I agree,” Dave joined in.
“There's nothing there for us,” Patty said.
One by one they all voiced their opinions, until only John, Candace, Mike and Bob were left.
“I don't see the sense in it,” Mike said quietly. The remaining three nodded their heads in agreement.
“So... do we go into Rochester, or somewhere else?” Bob asked softly as he looked around the cramped garage.
“I for one would hate to think we came all this way for nothing,” John said. “I vote we go. If it's bad,” he shrugged his shoulders, “we get the hell out and go somewhere else.”
Bob looked back at the small group. “Well?”
Silently, they all nodded their heads in agreement.
“That's that then,” Bob said. “We'll go in the mornin',” he paused. “Tonight though, I think we need to keep watch. I'm going to take the first watch, who's next?”
“Me,” Ronnie said.
“I'll relieve you,” Dave said, “just get me up when you get tired.”
“That should see us through the night,” Bob said. “...I think it's best if we all sleep in here tonight, and on this side, behind the trucks. It might be a bit crowded, but I don't want to take any chances.” Bob finished, picked up his rifle, and headed towards the glass enclosed front of the gas station, and the small group began to break apart. Candace spoke up, after most of the others had drifted away.
“Mike?”
“Ssshh,” he said, as he put a finger over her lips, “no need.” He led her away and they pushed two sleeping bags together in front of one of the Jeeps.
“Mike?” she said, “I just need to be held.”
“I know,” he said quietly. “I need to hold you.” He took her
into his arms and held her as he tried to push the thoughts that wanted to crowd his mind away. Candace slipped off to sleep quickly, but sleep eluded Mike. He lay quietly thinking, still holding her, until he drifted off to sleep himself much later.
TWELVE
March 14th
Rochester NY: Mike and Candace
Morning.
He was still holding her when he awoke the next morning. Candace awoke a few minutes after he did. She kissed him softly, and said, “Thank you for not being like every other man I've met in my life. I could love you, Mike, you know that?”
Mike kissed her back, and then she left to help with breakfast. Bob wandered over, his eyes bloodshot, a rifle slung across his shoulder.
“Did you see anything last night, Bob,” Mike asked?
“Zip. I stayed up all night myself, whoever or whatever... They didn't come back.”
“I thought you were going to switch off with Ed. You should have got me up,” Mike said.
“Was gonna switch off, but... I don't know, Mike, there's somethin' strange with Ed. It seems like he's walking around with his head stuck halfway up his ass. I ain't so sure he's gonna make it,” Bob finished in a near whisper.
“It happens, some people can't take it when things get flaky, Bob. Still, you should have got me up.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter now,” Bob said grinning. “Besides, it looked like Candace needed you. Looked like you needed her too,” he finished quietly.
“I think we all need each other,” Mike answered, “Ed will come around.”
Once everyone had eaten they packed up the Jeeps; unlocked the garage doors, and backed out into the already hot morning air.
Mike left the cab and motioned the others out of the Jeeps. The quiet of early morning descended.
“We don't know anything at all about what's next. If, after a night to sleep on it you have changed your mind, it's no sin... No one will blame you if you want to go back... Or even somewhere else.” He waited, but no one spoke. No nervous clearing of throats, no uneasy laughter. Nothing. “Okay,” he scrubbed at his face and the beard that was growing across his chin. Marveling at how it could be there at all. “I'd say windows down... Rifles loaded and safeties off... Watch... Follow my lead. If I back up and try to get out of there you follow me. Don't turn around, just keep it floored in reverse... Let's just be smart. Maybe those guys were nothing but smoke.” The silence held.
“Smoke or not we can't run away,” John said. He straightened and smoothed his shirt front.
Mike nodded, looked around once more and then climbed back into the jeep.
They pulled off the service stations paved area; rolled slowly through the intersection and headed into the city of Rochester.
New York: Manhattan
Adam:
Adam came awake with sunlight streaming in through the windshield of the small car. He recalled waking in the night, but could not recall why. The memory left him feeling somewhat uneasy, especially since he could not recall the why of it. Most probably, he thought, just the strangeness of the surroundings he found himself in.
The city seemed dead. He had been three days or so looking, sleeping wherever he had wound up. Twice gangs had come close to him, but had changed their minds. Something in his attitude told them he was looking for any excuse. He had stood waiting. Unconcerned, but they had turned away. Last night he had finally admitted he was not going to find he. He could have, maybe even had, driven by her already. There was no way to know. There were millions in this city, dead or alive. Millions, and how could you find one person in all that? You never thought about someone missing in all of that until it happened. Where would you even start to look?
Telephone and power poles crept from one side of the street to the other. In many places the wires had fallen, but in others it looked as though nothing had ever happened. Adam turned his attention away from the endless wires and back to the interior of the car.
He had found the car empty last night after the truck had quit a few blocks to the east. A small white-plastic key fob dangled from the ignition switch. Adam pumped the gas pedal twice, and then reached forward and turned the key. The motor turned over slowly, but eventually caught and sputtered to life. A blare of static pealed forth from the radio, and he fumbled with the controls until he managed to turn it off. He looked around the interior of the car.
The old blue vinyl seats were ripped and stained. The Honda insignia, although cracked and dirty, was still firmly attached to the peeling and split dashboard. Trash littered the floorboards, and the shift knob was so worn he could barely make out the pattern imprinted into it. The motor sounded like a small sewing machine, but the choppy uneven idle smoothed out after a few minutes to a low hum. Adam shifted the car into first and pulled from the side of the road bumping over the trash that littered the street as he went.
The driving was slow going, but an hour later he reached the outskirts of Manhattan. For the last twenty minutes he had been driving on the sidewalks that cut around the stalled traffic, and the further he had gotten out of the city the more he had found himself having to slow down and cut around the stalled traffic. He finally realized there was no way to drive out of the mess that Manhattan had become. He sat quietly for a few moments then got the car turned around and headed back for Park Avenue.
He wound slowly through the stalled traffic, going around where he had to, and he was close to Central Park when the car became hopelessly wedged as he tried to get around several vehicles blocking the road. It had been close before, but this time it was pushed tight against a building and the front of a truck that had ended up on the sidewalk, and there was no hope of getting the car freed. One of the cars he had been trying to squeeze past had slipped over onto the hood of the small car, pushing it both tighter into the building and the cement sidewalk.
Adam shut it off, and leaving the keys in the switch where he had found them, walked off toward the park.
On the Road: Billy and Beth
The name of the place was Tonopah Arizona. Billy had eased the truck up onto I-10 and that had waked Beth up, the tires bouncing over the broken asphalt.
“Not a big city... A town from the looks of it. Phoenix is close. Ten, fifteen miles maybe. Can't really tell from the map,” Billy said. A gas station loomed out of the early morning gray and Billy wheeled the truck under the roof that covered the pumps. He shut off the motor, and they both listened to the tick of the cooling motor for a few seconds.
“Coffee would be real nice,” Beth said. “No way do we want to go into Phoenix... Too dangerous.” She yawned and then covered her mouth and laughed. “Jesus... Morning breath.” She zipped open her knapsack, retrieved a bottle of water, her toothbrush and some toothpaste. She stepped from the truck.
Billy opened his door and settled his feet onto the pavement. It wasn't just old pavement, it was gray, there was no black left in it, like it was completely washed out, used up. When his eyes came up they settled on Beth who stood slightly in front of the truck, her gun in one hand the toothbrush working around her mouth on its own. It was the stance of her body that warned him, the set of her shoulders. Her other hand was reaching for the rifle which was just coming free of her shoulder. Billy shrugged his own rifle off his shoulder and into his hands before he even saw what had alarmed her. She spit out the toothbrush, holstered the gun and flicked the safety off the rifle. Three men stepped out of the shadows of the open garage bay.
They were kids, Billy saw. Or at least not much more than kids. They walked slowly forward.
Beth raised the rifle and pointed it at the lead kid. “That's it, right there.” She said.
She didn't scream it, softly spoke it, Billy thought later, but the kid stopped in his tracks.
“What's with the fuckin' guns?” The kid asked.
“Ours weren't aimed at you until you aimed yours at us,” Billy said. He hoped he sounded as cool as Beth had.
“Bullshit,” one of the other kids said.
“You had it in your hands when I looked at you. That's why I got mine ready.”
“I don't want to kill anyone today,” Beth said.
“It don't really bother me,” The third kid said. His eyes were blood shot. They had interrupted him while he was sleeping, it seemed. He kept rubbing at his eyes, Beth saw.
“I think you're right, it can't matter if you're dead,” Beth said.
“Hey, “ the lead kid said, “Maybe all's we want is to party a little.”
“Well I don't know if Billy swings that way,” Beth said.
“Pretty funny,” the kid responded. “Look... It's our town. We ain't the only ones here. You shoot there will be twenty more here in seconds. Then everybody dies.”
“Oh... I guess I didn't see it right,” Beth said. “I can see where it might be preferable to get raped and then murdered instead of getting murdered outright.”
The one in the back, the one with the sleepy eyes, stiffed a yawn and reflexively raised one hand to his mouth as his eyes slipped shut for a split second. Beth shot the lead kid in that split second, Billy had the second guy a moment later. The third kid opened his eyes to a changed situation.
“Just give me a reason,” Beth said. “Any reason.” The kid released the rifle he held and it dropped from his hands to the pavement.
“Can't shoot me I ain't got no gun... Can't... Can't shoot me...” He spun and looked off toward a rag tag collection of trailers that lined a dirt road in back of the station. “Johnny!” he screamed. “Johnny! Killers!” he turned back to Billy and Beth. “Can't shoot me... I ain't armed... Can't...” Billy shot him.
A second later the truck roared to life and Billy spun the wheel hard heading back towards the drop off from the pavement the way they had come.
Beth bounced around the cab and smacked her head hard enough on the windshield to star the glass when the truck left the pavement at better than fifty miles an hour and hit the hard packed dirt that ran alongside I10. She finally got her balance, swept one hand across her forehead, looked at the blood and cursed lightly. Behind them three trucks had launched off the pavement and were running hard to catch them.
“Fuck me,” Billy said. He pushed the pedal to the floor, there was nothing else for it. The glass in the back window starred a second later as Beth rammed the rifle stock into it. Another hit and the glass fell out into the pickup bed area. She raised the rifle and began to fire back at the trucks. A second later a hole punched through the windshield to Billy's left. He mashed the pedal harder into the floorboard feeling the truck skate across the hardscrabble of the desert as the truck flew beside the highway.
“We have to get north, the other side of the highway. If they squeeze us south we'll be in the goddamn desert,” Beth yelled above the scream of the engine.
“There are cars up there,” Billy yelled back. “On the highway!”
“There are bullets down here and they're gaining on us,” Beth yelled back.
“Better sit down,” Billy yelled.
“Just do it, Billy!” She continued to fire out the back window.
Billy turned the wheel hard right and the truck lurched hard to the left, threatening to roll over as the center of gravity changed. It nearly rolled before it hit the edge of the pavement, broke over, and then became airborne. It came within ten feet of a wrecked semi and trailer and then it plunged off the other side of the highway so smoothly that billy couldn't believe it had actually landed.
“Nearly broke my neck slamming it into the ceiling,” Beth yelled. She fell silent. “I...” She started, but an explosion from the highway stopped her words.
“Hit that fucking truck,” Billy screamed. “Has to be.”
“Keep it floored though, Billy. Keep it floored.” She stayed where she was, staring out the back window, knees driven into the seat top. Billy's eyes strayed to her ass, and then snapped back to the road. He watched the hard packed earth fly by.
“Roads coming up... Like, dirt roads,” Billy said. He had no sooner said it than the truck hit the slight rise and flew across it.
“Like back roads, looks like,” Beth said. “Nothing on the map.” She was trying her best to read the map as the truck bounced and tilted. One hand clutching against the seat back held her in a somewhat stable position as she looked at the roads. “Looks like all dirt roads, back roads and then it falls away to nothing. Just keep it pointed at the mountains in the distance.” She turned completely around and sat down with the map in her lap. “Must have hit the truck or each other. Whatever it was I don't think they feel like coming after us again... Billy, we can't fuck up like that again. I don't know what the fuck I was thinking letting my guard down like that.”
Billy said nothing. Beth went back to reading the map.
“Start breaking left, Billy. There's a river... No, maybe some sort of waterway, not a river, too straight. It ends and then picks up again a few miles later. We can get through and into the desert from there.” She looked at the map for a few more minutes, “Maybe twenty miles or so. Just run right by I10 and we should be good.” She turned and peeked over the back seat once more. “We're leaving a lot of dust, Billy.”
He looked over at her.
“We gotta figure this out too. I mean, we're going backwards, back to where we came from,” Beth said.
“I could loop out deep and then swing back,” Billy said.
“Yeah, except I'm thinking in this desert you can see dust for miles... The dust is the problem.” She leaned over and looked at the gas gauge. “Less than a half tank, so gas is a problem too.” She frowned.
“We've got gas in the back,” Billy threw in.
“I'm thinking this. We hit that river, or an out building, has to be something around here that will hide the truck. We crash, sleep the day away, and then tonight we run across the desert to the other side of Phoenix. What do you think?”
“Sounds like a plan... I'm shot,” Billy agreed.
“Okay, so take the next road that crosses, slow down to keep the dust down and let's start looking for a place to hide for the day... We've got enough gas in the back we can get a long way before we need to find a station if we don't burn it up running in circles and backtracking.”
Billy slowed the truck and began heading to the right, the east. “One of those towers will do... High voltage lines? Something like that. Just scrap metal now, but that will hide us if we drive right up to it...”
They drove to the tower on a dirt service road that circled it, and then continued to the north. Billy pulled the truck up close to the tower and shut it down. The silence held for a few moments, he fisted his hands into his eyes. “Jesus, I'm shot.”
“Come here,” Beth said. She pulled him down to the seat and laid his head in her lap. She began to rub lightly at his temples.
“God, don't do that It'll put me to sleep,” Billy told her half jokingly.
'Which is why I'm doing it.” She stretched her legs, angled them across to the drivers side floorboard, and leaned back into the door. The last thing she remembered was smoothing the hair out of his eyes and then she spiraled away into a series of dreams.
New York: Conner and Katie
Everyone was up early and ready to go before the sun was barely above the horizon.
“Yesterday,” Jake said to no one in particular. “Thirty two hours long.” Silence greeted his remark. Katie checked her own watch.
“So, like, that means things are slowing down?” Lydia asked.
“You think?” Jake asked unkindly.
“Well, something like that,” Lydia shot back defensively.
“Why would it go backwards,” James asked?
“Yeah. Wasn’t it supposed to stop, reverse and then start up again?” Lydia asked.
“Maybe,” Conner agreed. “But that was all based on theory. No facts involved at all... Let me correct that, I think they had some evidence that the poles had reversed at a few points in history before. Maybe because of asteroid impacts, but no real p
roof to join the event with the results they found in the layers of rock. And some Native American legends that spoke about the Earth standing still for a day, something like that, but even so, most of what they said would happen was all theory, not fact.”
“Yeah,” Jake chimed in. “It’s like an asshole. Everyone’s got one.”
“Don’t you mean opinion?” Lydia asked sweetly.
“Whatever. We ready to go, or what?” Jake asked. Everyone followed him outside in the uncomfortable silence that fell.
