by J. R. Tate
Darryl nodded as they both looked at Ty. “I’m not going to try and talk you out of it. I walked over here.”
“And I’m glad you did, otherwise, I would have to stay here and wait it out. I trust you enough to leave Ty with you so I can do this.”
“You trust me? It’s nice to hear that since we haven’t been on the best terms the last few years.”
Ryan blinked back the warmth in his eyes. “When I get back with help, we can discuss all of that. But right now, I need to get some rest. I’d like to be positive and say I’ll find someone out there fast, but we know the truth.”
“It’s okay to be a realist. Get some sleep, son.”
After checking on Ty one last time and pulling the blankets up around him, Ryan turned off the lanterns, secured the rope that held the door in place, said one last good night to his dad, and laid down on his lawn chair. Sleep didn’t come. He needed rest, but with all of his worries, he thought about different scenarios, and how he’d take it if Cecilia was really dead.
He’d be devastated, and it wouldn’t be good for Ty’s health. What if they never got closure with her? The storm was big enough to send his house flying, leaving no trace of it. It probably did that with people too.
Laying on his side, it was so dark that he wasn’t sure where he was facing. He could hear his father snoring nearby, envying the fact that he had fallen asleep. It was a shame he didn’t have a book to read. That was always a good way to get sleepy when insomnia plagued him. He had to come to terms with the fact that tomorrow might be the last time he’d ever see Ty and his father. But at least he’d go down swinging instead of leading them all to the grave without trying.
Balling up his coat, he used it as a pillow, closing his eyes, begging his mind to shut down so he could sleep just a few hours. That was all he was asking for.
“Ryan?”
He squinted, unable to see his father, but he knew it was him by the sound of his voice. His body ached from the awkward position he was laying in, and when he sat up, Ryan realized the metal door was off, and a small beam of light was cascading in from above.
“What time is it?” Ryan looked down at his watch, blinking away the blurriness. It was seven fifteen, which meant he needed to get moving.
“Ty had a good night. He seems pretty rested this morning. I went ahead and got up and did a few things and let you sleep. Are you still going to head out today?” Darryl poured some coffee in the percolator and lit the camping stove.
“Yeah. I’m not going to talk myself out of it.” Ryan smiled. “I’ve just been making instant coffee every morning. The percolator makes too much for just me.”
“Well, you know me, Ryan. I’ll drink twelve cups by myself.”
Ryan took a metal mug and sipped the coffee. It tasted twenty times better than the instant stuff, and he polished off two cups, drinking them too fast. It’d be the last time he’d have something that tasty, but he saved the rest for his dad to have.
Ryan gathered up a few bottles of water and some Vienna sausages, potted meat, and crackers. The rest he’d leave for them. The canned fruit was tempting, but it was something Ty enjoyed and needed to keep his strength up.
“Is that enough?”
“Yeah. I plan to follow the river for a while. I can always try and fish if I have to. I got some matches and a lighter so I can make a fire at night.”
“Daddy? Are you leaving?” Ty lifted his head, but it fell back on the chair.
Ryan knelt beside him, fluffing his hair. He had to keep cool. If he showed any bit of sadness, Ty would see it. “Yeah, buddy, I’m leaving, but I’ll be back.”
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going to find mommy. And I’m going to get help so we can get you out of here and get you feeling better, okay?”
Ty reached his good hand toward Ryan, clasping their fingers together. “I love you. You’re coming back, right?”
“Yes, I’m coming back. I’m going to find Mommy and I’m coming back. And things will get back to normal. Grandpa is going to stay here and be with you until then. He’s going to take care of you. And you take care of him. Can you do that?”
“I can.”
Ryan kissed Ty’s forehead. “I love you, Ty. I’ll see you soon.”
Turning to his father, Ryan shook his hand. Whispering, he said, “I sure hope I don’t let y’all down.”
“You won’t. It takes a man to go do what you’re doing. I’ll take care of Ty. Be safe, Ryan. Watch the sky. Get to the lowest spot you can find if you find yourself in the path of a storm.” Darryl smiled. “Hell, listen to me. You know what you’re doing. You know how to watch the weather.”
Ryan pulled him in for a hug. “Love you. Thanks for coming. Thanks for taking care of my kiddo.”
“Love you too, Ryan.”
The hardest part about leaving was taking the first step. Ryan told himself not to look back. It would make him want to abort the decision and stay there with Ty, but he couldn’t do it. Hoisting the backpack, he took a sip of water from the canteen his father gave him. It’d keep the water cooler, and if he did stick by the river, it’d be easy to refill. He still had to ration everything he had. There would come a time when he’d have to go a different direction, and water would be scarce.
The handgun was heavy in his pocket. It was added security against wildlife he might run across, and with looters being spotted, some violent, he wouldn’t hesitate to protect himself if he needed to. Ammunition was limited, but he was a good shot, and hopefully, he wouldn’t have to use the gun at all.
It was already hot and humid, so he tied his jacket around his waist. With the extreme fluctuation in temperatures, it wouldn’t be wise to get rid of it. His first instinct was to go toward town. There were community storm shelters where people would go if their homes weren’t equipped with a safe place. Churches often allowed people in their basements. Maybe people in Harper Springs were able to take cover, even with the lack of warning provided.
Ryan wasn’t clear on the timeline of how everything had transpired. Did Cecilia have enough time to make it to town? It felt like she had only left the house a few minutes before the storm barreled down on them.
Now he was starting to second guess himself. Should he follow the highway instead? Maybe he’d run across a vehicle that he could get running, or maybe someone driving through to help would stop and assist. His father’s words echoed in his mind – No one was coming. He couldn’t believe that. He couldn’t accept the idea of the rest of the United States leaving them to die. Something had to give. There would eventually be a break in the atmosphere long enough to fly some planes with supplies and medics in. Someone would eventually send mobile crisis units once they could get past the debris and highway closures.
There was about a mile hike from the river to the highway, and if he went between the two, it’d take longer, but he’d walk across more farms where he might run into someone he knew. Instead of the ten-mile walk to Harper Springs, it’d double, but at that moment, he was going to stick with that plan. There would be fish if he ran out of food, and water so he wouldn’t dehydrate himself. There would also be a better chance of running across a cellar or place to hide when more weather came through.
The sun blared down on him like a furnace. It was refreshing to see it for a change, but it was good and bad, depending on how he looked at it. It burned his skin and sweat poured in his eyes. The sun was a major part of supercells forming. The air fed off of daytime heating, and that was his biggest fear. He had a hard time finding where the dry line was. With the drier air, it was probably east of him, and that would keep him safe until it retreated back west with squall lines forming along it.
Ryan reached the edge of a small hill that overlooked Brooke’s Draw where people would gather to hunt, fish, and camp. It was usually busy with tourists and locals, all taking a break on the weekends, but today, it was like a ghost town. The campground was gone, including the cement picnic tables. A met
al sign dangled and swayed in the wind, the sideways letters advertising that it was the best fishing area for forty miles, which Ryan could attest to. He had caught lots of catfish right off of the docks.
The silence was eerie. He never thought he’d live to see the day when Brooke’s Draw would be vacant, and there it was, with no signs of life, not even a squirrel or rabbit who once infested the small oasis. It was like an atomic bomb had been dropped, and an eye level plume of dust aided in providing a post-apocalyptic feel to the weekend getaway spot.
Wiping the sweat from the back of his neck, Ryan swallowed the lump in his throat. He had only walked for fifteen minutes, and it was enough to confirm what his father had said. Things were worse than he had anticipated. The farther he walked away from his land, the deeper he got in over his head, but he had to do this for his family. For Ty’s injuries. For Cecilia – she had to be alive. Ryan wouldn’t accept any other possibility.
Chapter Eleven
Before heading to the highway, Ryan made a detour to the river. He was only about a half of a mile from it, and he needed to cool off. Rather than wasting his water, he’d go for a quick dip to bring his body temperature down and see what he might run across. Like the night before, his mind raced with everything transpiring, but he made sure to keep a sharp eye on the sky. The drastic climb in temperature worried him – if nature was capable of wiping the area off of the map, it would be capable of causing record-breaking heat that could easily kill him.
Staying hydrated and nourished would be his biggest challenge, which was one reason he thought the best idea would be to stay by the river. He could rig up a fishing pole with a sapling and make fishing wire similar to how he made the ropes back at his place. He wasn’t at that point yet. He had enough food for a while, and it was the lack of water that was concerning.
What he’d give for his cell phone to work for at least thirty seconds. Pulling it from his pocket, he checked it, and there was still no signal. He went ahead and tried to call out, but it wouldn’t respond. Ending the call, he tried 911. The major cell phone companies always claimed that you could make an emergency call even if the phone had no service, including if the phone wasn’t even hooked up to a network carrier.
No luck. Shit! He wished one thing would go his way. It actually had with his father showing up, but he felt like he was in quicksand. One step forward and two steps back.
When he reached the river, he was expecting to see other people there. It was just as vacant as Brooke’s Draw when people were normally lined up along the banks, fishing and tubing on the water. Ryan questioned if the water would even be safe to drink. He thought about all of the end of the world movies he had watched, and for some reason, the water always seemed to be tainted.
Dipping his hand in it, it was cooler than he expected, considering the blazing sun beating down on him. It appeared to be clear with no infestation, but did he really know? He wasn’t a scientist or a book smart intellect, so he went off basic instinct, and it was to get in and cool off.
Pulling his shirt off, he stripped to his boxers, stacking everything on the bank beside his bag. He feared someone coming up and taking his stuff, but with no human presence for miles, he relaxed. He was aware of the looters, but he’d stick close by in case they came. He didn’t want to put too much distance between him and his gun.
The water was refreshing, and he dove under, enjoying the coolness on his skin. When he came back up, he checked in all directions – still no sign of anyone but him. Not even any animals were coming to take a drink, which also made him wonder about the quality of the water. He pushed through the water, getting back to shore.
The sky to the west was darkening again and the wind picked up. That was the dry line retreating, just like Ryan had predicted earlier. He put his shirt and pants back on, allowing the fabric to soak up the excess water on his skin. It’d help cool him with the breeze, but his biggest concern was the storm forming quickly.
He needed to find a place to go. He didn’t see any places on the way, but he knew of a small farm not far from where he was. He didn’t know the family well, but it didn’t matter – in a time like this, they’d surely let him down underground with them.
Rain began to fall, but it was light. Lightning rumbled in the distance and Ryan couldn’t chance it. Breaking into a sprint, he weaved between trees, his heart thumping with the rhythm of his feet on the ground. He could hear the hail slamming against the ground and it wasn’t far behind him. The hailstones came down like bombs flying out of a huge spaceship, and if he slowed his pace down, he’d be pummeled with the shards of ice that were bigger than anything he had ever seen.
To his left, a tree was struck by lightning and engulfed in flames. The thunder was so loud that it knocked Ryan back, and how he hadn’t gotten hit by hail or lightning was nothing short of a miracle. His destination wasn’t far away, and his lungs burned, his legs ached, and it felt like it was getting farther away instead of closer.
It was hard to see through the rain, but it looked like a man was standing near the cellar, holding the door open, motioning toward Ryan. Was it an invite to go? He wasn’t going to question it, even if the man denied him, he had to fight his way in.
The mud was thick under his boots, slowing him down. The bag of supplies he had gathered back home was making it heavier, but he couldn’t shed the weight. Everything he carried was beneficial, and if he lost it now, his whole plan would fail and he’d let both Ty and Cecilia down. That was his inspiration to keep running and get to safety.
“Come on in!” The man yelled, pointing down the stairs.
Ryan finally reached him and took the steps two at a time. The door overhead slammed behind him, and though he didn’t know the family well, the man who had invited him in looked oddly familiar. He couldn’t place him, and when Ryan turned to see everyone else, something told him he was probably better off out in the storm than where he was at that moment.
He recognized the men from somewhere, but he couldn’t peg where. They weren’t from Harper Springs, but maybe they were residents of Fox Lake he had seen in passing when he’d visit Cecilia’s parents. That didn’t seem right either.
“Well, if it isn’t the man who pulled his gun on us!” One of the men nudged the other. “What brings you here?”
It hit Ryan blindside. They were the guys who tried to take some of his food. Taking a few steps back, he noticed another man in the corner, but he definitely didn’t belong with them. He looked terrified, as if he couldn’t get far enough away. Had he tried to get out of the storm as well?
“I’m not here to cause trouble,” Ryan said. Holding his hands at eye level, he tried not to draw attention to his backpack. They’d rob him blind if they knew what was inside.
“Again, I ask, what are you doing here? Run out of food?”
The metal door above them banged against the frame and rain pattered so hard that Ryan could barely hear him. Looking up, he wondered how they managed to get it to stay put.
“I am looking for help.” He was cautious to give too much information away, but maybe it’d make them more sympathetic if they knew his whole story. “My son is hurt and we haven’t heard from anyone in days. I’m also trying to find my wife.”
“Help isn’t coming,” the other man chimed in. “We told you that when you pointed that gun in our faces! You won’t be doing that to us again!”
Ryan shook his head and looked at the other man whose eyes were as wide as saucers. “No, like I said, I’m not here to cause trouble, and I thank y’all for letting me come down here and get out of the storm. It looked like another bad one and...”
“Would you shut up! We’re not here to help anyone!”
“Is it really that bad that you’re turning on everyone so fast?” Ryan wasn’t sure if it was the best question to ask, but it fell out of his mouth before he could even think about it. “Can’t we all work together and get some help?”
“He doesn’t get it, does he?” On
e man spoke to the other and they both laughed. “No one is coming. We are all on our own. And if it means me killing you to live, I’m not going to think twice. Now, what do you have in that bag?”
Ryan slid it off his shoulder and unzipped it. How could he have let this happen? It was his own fault for trusting everyone and being so naive to the situation.
“Empty it slow. If I see any signs of a gun, I’m going to beat the shit out of you, do you understand?”
Ryan did as he was told, thankful he kept the gun in his pocket and his jeans were baggy. If they tried to take it, he’d draw the line there. He squatted and emptied out the beef jerky, potted meat and crackers, as well as a jar of peanut butter and several bottles of water. The last can of tamales rolled beside the food, and his heart ached for Cecilia. Finding her now felt impossible.
“Looks like we hit the jackpot!”
“You’re not taking my stuff,” Ryan said, gritting his teeth. He was trying to stall. The storm above was still raging. What he imagined was hail was slamming on the door, and the wind sounded like a freight train. What hadn’t been destroyed yet would be completely gone once he got back to ground level.
“Oh, we’re not, huh? How do you figure?”
When Ryan looked up, he was staring down the barrel of a shotgun. He slowly straightened his posture and held his hands up again. They didn’t have a gun the first time he met up with them, but there was no telling how many people they had taken things from.
“Not such a big talker now, are you?”
“Take the food. There’s no reason to keep us, though.” Ryan motioned toward the other man who stayed against the wall, his chest rising and falling fast.
“No? I should blow you away for being such a damn headache. And then we’ll go back to your cellar where your little boy is and finish the job. Just think of it as us putting you out of your misery. Everyone who didn’t die in the tornadoes will eventually die of thirst and hunger. Why not let us give you the easy way out?”
