Jake could hardly believe it, but he actually felt his face warming. “Look, Wilbur, it’s complicated.”
“When I heard the story about your friend, I guess I understood why things are the way they are.”
Jake looked at Wilbur, who saw a lot, he guessed. “In another life, maybe...”
Wilbur put his hand on Jake’s shoulder.
“You remind me of my son, Jake. He would have been about your age.”
It was clear Wilbur had more on his mind, so Jake continued to listen.
“He was twenty-one when he was drafted. End of sixty-seven. He never even saw action. His first day in country, a stray bullet ripped through the belly of the helicopter he was in. Killed him straight away. One bullet. One bullet and it took my boy.”
Jake lowered his eyes, and when he looked up tears were rolling down Wilbur’s cheeks. Jake could tell it had been a long time since Wilbur talked to anyone about this.
“KIA. Not one day in the field. I tell myself God had a plan for him.”
“I’m sorry, Wilbur.”
“I am, too. For a while there, I questioned God’s existence.”
They stopped walking when they got to the shed. It was just a small metal outbuilding, but to Jake’s surprise there was a large white gas pump behind it, rusted with age. Beside that was a large plastic container sitting in a steel cage.
“Gas is pretty scarce these days, but we were fortunate enough to have a delivery just before this mouse pox took hold. I’ve already filled up one of these here containers. We get our pesticides and such in them. I want you to take as much as you can carry. You won’t be able to fill it. Might be too much weight. But take what you can.”
“Thanks, Wilbur, but you’ll need it when you come back.”
“I’m an old man, Jake. I’ve seen a lot in my life. Good…. and bad. This trip to my brother’s…well, it’s a one-way trip. I’m kinda looking forward to seeing my boy. I think he would have been a lot like you. If Robert’s family took you in, you say ‘saved you.’ You must have been worthy of saving. A lot of boys got messed up over there. Just stay the course. I’d like to see you again someday, introduce you to my boy.”
“I’d like that,” Jake said
Wilbur nodded, hiding his glossy eyes.
“You’d best be getting on, I suppose. Take as much as you can carry, now.”
“Wilbur, I don’t know how I can repay you.”
“With all that’s going on, gas is power. I heard an old saying a long time ago. ‘The measure of a man is what he does with power.’ Just be good, Jake.”
“You’re a saint, Wilbur.”
They turned and walked back toward the house. Wilbur waddled alongside Jake.
“I think it was W.C Fields who said that.”
Jake chuckled. He knew it was Plato. He also knew that Wilbur knew it, too.
Jake and Paul made room for the big plastic container, transferring some equipment and supplies into the Ford from the cube van. A little reorganizing and they were able to center the container over the wheel axle and still reach it with the hose.
“It might ride a little hard on the bumps, but once we hit the road it should be fine,” Jake reasoned.
Paul topped off both vehicles and then handed the nozzle to Jake, who was strapping the container down so it wouldn't shift. They managed to fill it completely.
“We’ll be using it soon enough. It’ll be all right,” Jake said more to convince himself. “I’ll just leave the door open till we hit the house. Let it air out.”
“Capped?”
“Tight as a drum. Let’s hit the road.”
“You have a route mapped?” Paul asked.
“I think if we stay on I-40 we should be good.”
“What about our friends?”
“Which? The NSA or Pat?”
Paul laughed. “Both. You think I-40’s safe?”
“No, I don’t. But as for Pat we can call him today and let him know where we’re going. As for the others, maybe because we hit that turnpike they’ll concentrate further north.”
“Let’s hope so.”
They climbed into their respective vehicles, drove to the house, and said their goodbyes. The Wrights had been memorable hosts. Everyone knew they would likely never see each other again.
“You take good care of your family, Jake,” Wilbur said, giving him a firm handshake.
“I will and when you get to your brother’s, be weary of strangers. I’m grateful you helped us, more than you’ll ever know, but they could have this mouse pox. A lot of people are going to get it.”
Wilbur smiled. “Dying is easy. It’s living that’s hard, and I’m too old to change now.”
Jake nodded. He could relate
Wilbur winked. “Good luck with that next life.”
Jake blushed for the second time that day.
Jake headed south toward I-40 and another day of heavy congestion.
“I think that Wilbur is a wise man?” June said.
“That he is.”
“Quite cryptic, his last comment?”
Jake shrugged, “I know.”
He wasn’t biting and refused to tell June what Wilbur had meant.
*
The major speculated that they were heading north to avoid Oklahoma City, and the fact they somehow landed on the Cimarron Turnpike was just a mistake. They were probably exhausted. But he hadn’t counted on Wilbur Wright and the kindness of strangers, or the fact that they would slink into traffic on the I-40 at 9:45 AM. It didn’t fit.
NSA had profiled all of them. Jake, June, Paul and Leslie, even the kids. They were all driven, loyal and resourceful. The family’s military background suggested a structured routine, altered by a need to do whatever it took to survive. Make it work. Do the opposite of what the enemy expects. They would definitely protect their own and Folkstone almost found himself admiring his foe and was respectful of his capabilities.
He very much wanted to meet this Jake Miller face-to-face.
“They’ll make another mistake men. I can feel it. And then we’ll wrap this up and make the Apple-Tree by our deadline.”
But Folkstone had no plans to go underground without Emily. She had been living in Denver, but when the mouse pox hit, she fled the city and was now at Fort Carson, a fact even the raspy drawl didn’t know.
Do the opposite of what the enemy expects, and protect your own and always have a back- up plan.
*
I-40 was a parking lot. More so than the day before. This day there was one noticeable difference. The shoulders of the highway were littered with abandoned vehicles that had been driven until they’d run out of gas.
The clusters of cars on the side of the road were being used to ambush unsuspecting drivers. The roots of fear had taken hold and everyone was navigating the razor’s edge. Desperate, people had started to commandeer rides, carjacking people at gun point. Unfortunately, some were unwilling to comply.
Paul followed Jake a couple cars behind in the fast lane. They had been at a slow roll when a group of three men moved with purpose from the line of cars abandoned on the shoulder. They were on the other side of the divided highway, on the inside lane across from Jake. Two of the three men were armed with guns. The third had a tire iron.
Like a pride of lions, they scoped their prey, assessing the herd. But these three were a bad judge of character. In America, there are more guns than people.
The whole sequence of events had taken maybe a minute. Nobody won.
The three highwaymen ran toward a silver Land Rover. Muzzle flash erupted from the rear window of the vehicle. The driver of the Land Rover hit the gas, running over the man with the tire iron and smashing into the rear end of a pickup ahead crushing the man’s legs.
One of the carjackers, the one without the hole in his chest, raked the vehicle with bullets. He assumed he now owned the Land Rover. But the driver of the pickup was out with a shot gun, trained center mass. He had him cold. The bad S
amaritan raised his hands, dropped his gun and started crying, begging for his life.
The driver of the pick-up looked at the victims. The front passenger was alive but dying, and there were two young children in the back, both motionless, splattered in each other’s blood.
“You asshole,” shouted the driver of the pickup.
The echo of the blast was deafening.
Cassandra’s screams jolted Leslie and Paul from their own shock. It was clear the kids had seen the whole thing from their unobstructed view out the front and driver’s side windows.
“We have to get out of here!” Cassandra begged through a steady stream of tears. Christopher had seen such things in the movies but this was not choreographed or dramatic. This was pure brutality. Christopher’s mouth was gaped open slightly and his eyes were wide and glossed over with fear. He said nothing.
Leslie climbed into the back.
Jake had jumped out of the cube van, berretta drawn, but it was over and there was nothing he could do. Reluctantly, he returned to the van and climbed into the driver’s seat.
“Jake, we have to get off the interstate. It’s too dangerous,” June pleaded.
She had no idea if the kids had witnessed everything that had happened, but she wasn’t in any mood to take chances.
Because of traffic, they were forced to sit and watch the last act as some tried to help the dying woman. She reached towards the Land Rover, sputtering and spitting up blood. It was not long before she joined her kids. Leslie tried to shield Christopher by tucking his face into her side, but he pulled away wide- eyed and watching.
Most people were unable or afraid to leave their cars. Some tried pushing the dead family’s vehicle to the shoulder only concerned with how it might affect them. They ransacked the family’s supplies. Someone siphoned gas from the Land Rover’s tank, and the woman’s body was left at the side of the road with little regard, as if it were a stray dead dog.
They made a unanimous decision to change routes. Everyone but Christopher voted. He remained quiet, and an inconsolable terror glazed his eyes.
“We will. We have to skirt Amarillo, anyway. Can you get that map on the dash and find us a new route?”
The new route was better, but not much. There was no insulating themselves in the center lanes, middle of the herd. They remained wary of the threat of ambush. Paul grew tense every time he passed the abandoned cars that littered the sides of the mostly two-lane blacktop.
Sheet lightning spider-webbed across the sinister night sky as strong winds whipped the rain into a frenzy, peppering the vehicles.
Everyone was tired and hungry. They hadn’t eaten a real meal since Dot's breakfast, choosing to stay on the road, snacking on trail mix, which was the only thing left on the shelves at a gas station in Silverton. They had only seen three operating service stations all day, each time choosing to wait in line and fill up. They knew they had to save their fuel for emergencies. They also knew the shortages were bound to get worse.
They had been on the road nearly twelve hours and Christopher was still not talking but was answering his sister with nods.
They started looking for a place to spend the night. The Mountainair Motor Court was lit up, but the office was empty. The window was smashed out of the door, and there were room keys scattered on the front desk.
“No one’s here,” Paul said.
“The place looks packed,” replied Jake.
The two story motel had maybe forty rooms. It was small but neat. The stucco was whitewashed and looked fairly new. Not yet sun baked and faded. There was a stucco half wall running along the second floor catwalk. The exterior doors and shutters were painted black with black room numbers fixed to the walls beside the corresponding doors.
A lone figure stood at room thirteen, shielded from the sideways rain by the second story walkway. He was a hard looking man, tall and lean, his dark hair dry and askew. He looked to be in his forties, with leathery, pockmarked skin. He took a deep draw off his cigarette, exposing fingers stained yellowed and brown from nicotine. Jake rolled down his window.
“Hey there! Can you tell me who we see about getting a room?”
“If you find one empty, it’s yours. Owner lit out yesterday.”
“Looks packed.”
“If you don't find one, I might be able to help you. My brother’s family and I have three rooms. We’re waiting on my sister and her family so we saved her a room, but she’s late as usual. I can give you that one for the night if she doesn’t show.”
“Thanks. I’ll knock on some doors first, but I may take you up on that.”
Jake closed his window and eased away.
“Nicer than he looks.”
June nodded in agreement as Jake parked the van.
Room 34 was empty, so they claimed it and moved right in. Paul carried the two black leather gym bags, and Jake struggled with rifles as they climbed the stairs to where Leslie waited in the doorway holding their reservation.
They all opted for sleep over food, and Leslie, Paul and the kids cuddled together on one bed.
Paul held his son tightly as they drifted off.
Chapter 28
Rain pounded the clay tile roof and thunderclaps filled the night. CNN reported woeful stories. They had stopped listing the quarantine areas; the numbers were just too great.
Even so, it had been a solid night’s sleep. They had been exhausted, oblivious to the world.
June was the first to wake. The rains had stopped, and she could hear the bustle of activity outside in the parking lot. She opened the door and walked out on the second floor catwalk to investigate the commotion.
The skies were cloudy and dull. Robert would have called it a fifty-fifty day. Could be sun, could be rain. She could hear birds chirping from some hidden location off in the cottonwoods.
Down in the parking lot, people weren’t quite as happy as the birds. Some exchanged heated words. She saw why at once and rushed back into the room. The only light was from the TV, and she stumbled over Paul who had moved to a makeshift bed on the floor.
“June, what’s wrong?”
Jake and Leslie had both bolted up, alert and sensing June’s urgency..
“Someone’s busted the windows out of the vans.”
Jake grabbed his gun from the nightstand drawer. Paul and Leslie were the first down the stairs and to the vans with Jake and June close behind. Jake had tucked the berretta under his shirt after seeing the activity in the parking lot. A lot of travelers were in the same boat. Their vehicles had been broken into.
Jake was relieved to see the heavy industrial lock on the cube van still intact.
There were a few axe gashes in the door. They were trying to go through to get in but must have been interrupted or given up.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Paul screamed, punching the sides of the van.
“What did they take?” Leslie asked, pushing her way into the van.
Paul was walking in circles now. Frustration masked his face. Jake tried to calm him down. “We’ll get more Paul, don’t worry.”
“What did they get?” Paul asked.
“Most of the food. All of the water,” Leslie said. “And the four cans of gas.”
“It’s all right,”Jake said. . He cocked his head and looked around. “We still have lots of gas, four full cans, plus we haven’t touched the white tank. And we can restock on food.”
“From where, Jake? You saw that gas station yesterday. The only thing we could get was a bag of trail mix, for fuck sakes”.
“We haven’t been checking grocery stores, and there’s still food in my van. Let’s calm down. Remember there are no problems, just solutions.”
“All right.” Paul said looking at Jake who looked unconvinced. “All right.”
June climbed into the other vehicle.
Paul walked over for a quick look and saw the overhead door of the cube van was still secure. He paced back and forth a couple of times behind the cube van. “There’s n
o water in your van.”
“We’ll get water. Control your emotions. Don’t let them control you.” Jake said. He didn’t like seeing Paul like that.
“Looks like they tried hacking their way through the back door,” Paul said.
“You all right now hothead? “Jake razzed Paul.
Paul ignored Jake’s question. Jake was always tossing out little pearls of wisdom. He’s always right. He paced back and forth a couple more times behind the cube van. Where’s he come up with that shit? It’s like he pulls it out of his ass.
“They busted your radio headset Jake.” June said taking stock of the damage in the cab of the cube van.
“Didn’t like them much anyway.”
Listen to him. He never gets mad, Paul thought.
Leslie climbed out of the van, shaking her head. “How did we not hear this?”
“Thunderstorm would have drowned out the noise,” Jake answered.
“And everyone was dead tired. Second floor didn’t help either,” Paul added. He seemed like he’d regained some composure.
“The journals?” June asked.
“I brought them in with my laptop last night,” Leslie said. “I’ve been working on my own story in case Felix doesn’t come through. World wide web.”
“Well, let’s get moving again, and we’ll try and restock along the way,” Jake suggested.
Jake turned and realized that the kids had been watching from the second floor walkway, peering over the half wall. He nodded his head to Paul who raised his head to look at his children. He imagined they had a firm grasp of the situation. Worry and concern were easy to read.
Jake leaned in close to Paul. “Check yourself son. You’re actions read defeat,” Jake said.
Paul nodded his head. He knew Jake was right.
“We best get moving,” June suggested.
“Let’s check the phones and call Pat, let him know where we are,” Jake said as they filed up the stairs to the room.
Leslie was the first to the top. The children looked on and Leslie put her arms around them. “Everything’s gonna work out guys. Don’t worry. Okay?”
“Why was dad so mad?” Cassandra asked.
“They broke into our van and stole a few things but not enough to worry about. I overreacted guys. Sorry.”
Playing God Page 18
