I wasn’t seeing any traffic on the roads at all, and it didn’t seem as if there was much, if any, activity. It wasn’t as though the gas stations had received some magical influx of fuel and were bartering it out to people. Rather, it appeared that – just like four months ago – we were going to be on our own to find gas.
More than anything, I just wanted to find a spot to hunker down and regroup. We needed to come up with some sort of plan, get everyone on the same page, and get some much-needed rest.
I heard Claire’s voice behind me in soft whispers as she tended to Will and Emily. Emily was in the worst shape. Her burns were bad, and being jarred and jiggled in the back of the SUV’s uncomfortable cargo area as we drove wasn’t exactly doing her much good. Thankfully, our supply of pain killers was going a long way to comfort our wounded.
Dad sat in silence beside me. We hadn’t had much of a chance to talk since he’d been shot, though he seemed to be doing slightly better. He kept his arm in a makeshift sling that Emily had created for him before she’d suffered her own injuries. I think he was worried about her. He kept taking furtive glances over his shoulder as if he wanted to ask how she was doing while at the same time not wanting to know.
“Doing okay, Dad?” I asked him quietly, glancing over at him as I drove.
“Yes,” he nodded.
“How’s the arm?”
“A little better, I guess,” he said, touching the sling softly. “Claire has got me so doped up on painkillers, you could probably hack the thing off and I wouldn’t even know it.”
I glanced down at the fuel gauge on the console. The indicator hovered just below a quarter of a tank.
“We’re going to have to find somewhere to stop and soon,” I said. “Won’t be long before we’re out of gas.” As I said this, I saw a sign on the side of the road indicating we were entering the far western tip of North Carolina.
“I’ll keep an eye out for anything that looks promising,” Dad said.
The late-morning sun had risen higher now, and I felt naked and compromised traveling in broad daylight. While we hadn’t seen anyone on the road since we’d left Tipton, it didn’t mean that roadway bandits weren’t laying in wait somewhere ahead of us. The last thing any of us wanted was more shooting. We were all tired of the sound of gunfire and of being shot at. All of us – except for Ray of course – were unaccustomed to the feeling and fear of being fired upon with the intent to kill, and I had to admit, it was indeed a strange experience. Having someone trying to kill me and my loved ones was something I’d never expected to encounter and was definitely something I decided I would work extremely hard to avoid in the future. However, in this new world, it was likely something that could very well happen again. I could only hope and pray that as time went on, people would begin to settle down, rebuild some semblance of our previous society, and develop rules by which to govern themselves and their actions.
For as much as I had disliked our previous world in so many ways, and for all its faults and flaws, I was finding that I now missed its governance of structured rules and laws. While all those regimented guidelines had started to turn our nation slightly mushy around the edges as people relied more and more upon the government and technology for their subsistence and safety, I had to admit that in most ways, it was far better than the current post-apocalyptic sort of existence we were experiencing.
I could only pray that in the months ahead, the remnants of the nation’s population would begin to become more acclimated to surviving on its own and not be so quick to resort to the rabid-dog approach we’d encountered in Tipton. Richard had proven to me that civilization and exercised restraint were still alive. The question was, were there enough leaders like him still among us to harness common sense and humanity while restraining lawlessness and mob mentality?
Will was lying on his stomach in the SUV’s cargo area to keep pressure off his butt wound, his head rested up near the backs of the front seats. Like Dad, he was doped up on some pretty strong pain meds and would mumble and talk in his broken sleep. Every so often, he would awaken from his slumber and lift his head, a goofy grin on his face.
During one such bout of semi-awareness, he lifted his head slightly and asked, “How we doing up there, big bro?”
“Oh, just wonderful,” I said back, my response soaked in sarcasm.
“Good to hear,” he replied pleasantly.
“How’s you tush?” I asked.
“Can’t feel a damn thing. This stuff Claire gave me is great…whatever it is.”
“She might have to pass some around to the rest of us,” I half joked.
“Let me know if you need anything,” Will mumbled drowsily as he put his head back down on his forearms for another round of drug-induced sleep.
“Righty roo,” I said back, glad that at least someone was feeling good.
I turned my attention back to the road and drove on in silence for the next half hour. We’d decided to utilize more of the state highways and county roads for the rest of our journey whenever possible, choosing lesser traveled routes to continue our way south since I-40 had made its turn east, heading further into North Carolina.
The dashboard’s low-fuel indictor chimed on about 20 minutes later, tearing into the silence of the drive. Dad glanced over at the flashing red light, then back out his window. We drove on for several minutes more in silence, the glaring red light churning my stomach full of worry.
Ahead of us, I could see a couple tall signs looming above the hills and treetops to the right side of the road.
“Could be promising,” Dad nodded at the signs. “Should we try it?”
“I don’t think we have much of a choice,” I said.
A few minutes later, we came to an east-west running crossroad. Mountains rose around us on all sides. To our left, the road led away into apparent nothingness. I saw nothing but the road and trees past that point. To our right, the road ran between several buildings. My eyes followed the road as it disappeared into the mountains not more than half a mile away in either direction. There was absolutely no traffic and no indication of other people.
I inspected the signs around the buildings to our right. I saw a sign for a motel on one side, a sign for a gas station and a waffle joint on the other. It made me wonder just how many such waffle restaurants had populated our once proud nation. No wonder there used to be an obesity problem before the flu. It seemed like the further south we got, the more such abandoned eateries we saw. I pondered what I’d be willing to give for a stack of big fat waffles smothered in butter and drizzled with a layer of hot syrup.
My stomach rumbled and quivered, and I quickly pushed the thought aside.
“Should we try the motel?” I asked Dad.
“Might as well,” he shrugged drowsily. “Doesn’t look like anyone’s around.”
I drove the short distance from where we sat over to the motel. We pulled up out front under a paint-chipped carport where the tiny registration area and office were located. It definitely looked like the kind of bed bug-ridden place that I would have cruised right on past in my previous life, but seeing as how we were now beggars, we couldn’t exactly be choosers.
I don’t know why I pulled up in front of the motel. Force of habit I guess. It wasn’t like we were going to check in. However, after our last encounter in Tipton, I wanted to find out sooner rather than later if the building was inhabited and whether potential occupants would be willing to work with outsiders or just try to run them off.
The motel was one of those old motor-lodge sorts. “The Drury Inn” a faded red sign on the front of the building read. The letter “Y” in “Drury” was missing completely, distinguishable only by where the sun had etched its shadowed imprint into the building’s facade, and the “D” was slanted perilously askew and appeared ready to fall off in the next stiff breeze.
The structure itself was built in a square shape, the inner courtyard of which was devoted to a small swimming pool surrounded by a chain-li
nk fence. I’d estimate that the motel housed somewhere around 20 guest rooms. There appeared to be parking spots around three sides of the building, but I didn’t see any other vehicles, which gave me hope that the place was abandoned.
Ray and I exited our respective vehicles and moved cautiously up to the building’s registration entrance. Clumps of frozen wind-swept leaves were piled into corners around the front of the building. The glass entry doors were chained shut and padlocked, and by the looks of things, no one had been inside for quite some time. Peering inside through the doors, I could see a small sofa, beside which sat an end table with lamp. There was the registration desk with a computer atop it, a display stand full of brochures and pamphlets for tourists and travelers, and a door off to one side of the room marked “Office.”
“Looks empty,” Ray said, cupping his hands around his eyes to block the sunlight’s glare upon the glass and get a better look inside.
“Abandoned, hopefully,” I replied, stepping back from the doors and surveying the scene around us. “Looks like no one’s been here for a while.”
“How you guys on gas?” Ray asked.
“Almost out. You?”
“Same,” he said.
“We need to come up with a new game plan,” I said. “I think we should hole up here for a day or two, give everyone a chance to rest, and we can look for some gas. Then we can figure out our next move.”
“I think it’s about our only option,” Ray agreed. “Let’s take a look around, make damn sure no one else is here, and then we can pick out a couple rooms to stay in. I’m thinking in the back. Keeps the vehicles out of sight of the road and gives us better cover.”
“Sounds good,” I agreed.
We made a quick trip around the building, guns at the ready. We gave the entry door to each room a swift kick as we passed just to make sure we wouldn’t encounter any unpleasant surprises when we selected our rooms later. If there was anybody here, I wanted to know ahead of time. But there were no responses to our knocks. Therefore, we headed back to tell the rest of the group the plan and then pull the vehicles around back and park.
There were a total of six rooms along the back side of the hotel, of which we picked out four. Each room had two double beds. There were big picture windows that faced out toward the pool in the courtyard. I’m sure that at one time, the little pool had probably been nice, but now it was filled with murky, half-frozen water that contained a mixture of sticks, leaves, and trash.
The rooms were sparsely and somewhat shabbily furnished, their décor looking as though it hadn’t been updated in at least a decade – probably longer. And while the furnishings were in sharp contrast to those we’d left behind at the castle, at this point, none of us really cared.
After closing the drapes across the picture windows, we pulled mattresses from the two rooms that we hadn’t occupied in the rear of the hotel and shoved them up against the windows for added security, pinning them there with the room dressers. This also made the rooms darker and easier for sleeping during the day.
Inside the rooms, it was just as cold as it was outside – about 40 degrees – so we took our meat supply and put it in the bathtub of one room to secure it in case any outsiders got the idea to come mess with our vehicles.
Claire, Jason, Emily, Dad, Cashmere, and I took a room. Ray and Pam got another. Sharron, Will, Sarah, and Paul roomed together. And Joanna and Shane took the final room. It was a little cramped in our room, but we didn’t care. We were just happy to be alive and have a somewhat secure place to sleep.
After our supplies were unloaded, and before everyone crashed out for the rest of the day, we all gathered in our room for a group meeting. It didn’t last long. People took seats where they could find them – either on beds or in the room’s two sofa chairs. Will and Emily were laid out on one of the double beds. We made sure to keep the kids away from them as even the slightest bounce or jiggle of the mattress would result in pain for one or both of them. Ray and I stood so that we could address the group.
We quickly decided that we would scout the surrounding area tomorrow, scavenging for anything of use. If we found a better place to hold out while conducting our search, we could relocate. Otherwise, we would hunt for food and mainly fuel, and then look to move on.
Longer term, we felt that if we could find fuel, we’d continue on to Georgia, seeing what was available along the way. We hoped to find a spot to settle down for the rest of the winter in the state’s warmer climate; but if we didn’t find anything suitable, we’d head for Florida as long as the fuel held out.
We thought that maybe the warmer states might have done better fighting the flu, but I don’t really know why we thought this. Maybe it was more of a hope than any real expectation. We needed a living location where we could sustain ourselves throughout the entire year without having to worry about freezing to death due to cold or starving to death from extended winters. So we figured, why not Florida? Somewhere along the coast sounded good. We could fish and catch crabs. There’d be oranges, lemons, and limes for Sharron, and we might even get our hands on some bananas and coconuts.
“Could we go to Disney World?” asked sweet Shane.
“I don’t think it will be open, sweetie,” Joanna whispered softly in his ear, hugging him close and stroking his hair.
“Mickey got the flu and kicked the bucket,” Paul laughed.
Shane looked at him, distraught, then jutted his lip out and started crying.
“Paul!” his mother hissed, glaring at him.
“Well, I think that’s about enough for today’s meeting,” I said, wanting to wrap things up before any more tears were shed.
I was exhausted, and I knew everyone else was as well. We all needed to get some sleep; so we doped up Emily, Dad, and Will, on another round of pain killers, and everyone hit the sack.
CHAPTER 7
I woke to the sound of pounding on our motel room door. I was so out of it at first that I thought we were back at the castle and the noise was gunfire. My heart leapt and then calmed as I remembered that we were no longer under attack, but then it leapt again as I wondered just who – at this seemingly deserted highway exit – was pounding on our door and why.
I figured that it was probably Ray or Joanna.
It was light outside although I had no idea if it was morning, afternoon or evening. I didn’t even know whether it was the same day we’d arrived or if we’d all slept through the night and it was already the dawn of the next day.
I slid out from beneath the bed’s warm blankets. The coldness of the room hit me hard, taking my breath away and causing me to shiver violently. I grabbed my .44 from atop the bedside table and slid it into my waistband just to be on the safe side.
I looked over at Claire who lay motionless on the other side of the bed. Jason lay asleep beside her. Her eyes were open, watching me, but she hadn’t moved. I motioned for her to stay put. She complied, only moving to reach over and take the .22 pistol off her own bedside table and slide it under the covers with her.
Dad and Emily were still in their drug-induced slumber in the other bed.
I walked silently to the door and put my eye to the peephole. All I saw was blackness, which I took to mean that someone was covering it – unwittingly or purposely I couldn’t say.
“Who’s there?” I called through the door.
“Management,” came a man’s husky response.
At first I thought it was Ray playing a joke, but it certainly didn’t sound like Ray’s voice. I wondered if he was disguising it. I pulled the gun from my waistband and held it in my left hand. I left the door chained, unlocking it with my right hand, and putting my right foot in front of it to help bar against forced entry while I cracked it open it about three inches until the chain caught. I held my .44 out of sight behind me as I cautiously peered outside. I could see at least two burly men wearing heavy coats, ball caps, and blue jeans. Both were heavily bearded.
“Yes?” I said.
“This is our place,” the first man, who was wearing a red ball cap, said. He didn’t say it angrily or menacingly, just matter-of-factly. The pronouncement caught me off guard as I hadn’t expected anyone to be laying claim to the building. I hadn’t expected anyone to be around at all for that matter.
“Okaaaay…” I said slowly, not exactly sure how to proceed; but I didn’t have to say any more.
“We’re glad to have you,” said the man. “We don’t get people around these parts much anymore as I’m sure you probably guessed. We don’t mind if you stay here, but we ask that you pay for your rooms.”
“I’m sure we can work something out,” I said as agreeably as I could, hoping to placate the men while still contemplating this new development.
I certainly didn’t want anymore trouble – that was for sure.
“Just a second,” I told the two as I closed the door slightly so that I could remove the chain. I put my .44 back in the waistband of my pants and then reopened the door to step tenuously outside, pulling it shut behind me.
The two men stepped back from the door as I did so. I noted that each man wore a gun holster on his hip. In the parking lot behind them, I could see a red pickup truck pulled up in back of our two vehicles, blocking them in. An older man with white hair sat behind the steering wheel and a teenager holding an assault rifle knelt in the bed of the pickup. Seeing the young man made me think of Brian – Claire’s younger and much wilder teenage brother who’d we’d lost in the firefight back in southern Illinois – which made me more nervous than anything else about the whole situation. An overly-jittery teen with an assault rifle could be a dangerous thing in situations like this where both sides were feeling one another out.
The Systemic Series - Box Set Page 47
