by Ned Sahin
With this speed, we should be in San Francisco after about four days.
Neighborhoods in Illinois are not any different than the ones we saw in Tennessee. They are deserted. Some buildings are burned down while some of them are still on fire. There are smelly garbage bags at every block. We see corpses with and without masks. I am not sure who had a less painful death. The people who died not being able to breathe because of the virus or the ones who died while fighting with others for food. What makes us sadder and angrier is to see police or military officers lying on the ground. Those heroes fought until their last breath to keep communities safe.
Some neighborhoods were invaded by animals. We got chased by an aggressive coyote family led by a bloody pack leader, but they didn’t stand a chance against our Armageddon truck. We hit one of them and drove away from the others.
“Matt, what time is it?” Kathleen asks with a smile. She is not asking the time because she has a date or anything else. The truck’s radio panel is showing the time right in front of her, anyway. She wants to remind us that she is tired of driving.
“It’s my time to drive,” I say. She yawns while searching for a place to pull over. I look back in the truck. Toshi is still sleeping in the living compartment.
“Let’s change before we get back on the highway. This little town looks good for a shortstop,” she says. Unlike the pre-pandemic world, I think stopping on highways is safer now. I consider her idea anyway.
I look at the businesses on the street. One of them is named Weldon Spring Grill. I imagine this restaurant at lunchtime before the virus. It must have been a meeting point for locals to catch up with each other and enjoy tasty grilled meat.
I miss getting together with friends at a bar to talk about TV shows and our travel plans over food and drinks. Who knows, once this nightmare is over, we may have a trip on this exact route and stop at this restaurant to refresh our memories.
“Sounds like a plan,” I say to Kathleen. The town looks quiet and safe.
While she pulls over, I continue to analyze the street. This town looks different than others. There are no garbage, dead bodies, or animals around. Store and restaurant windows are intact. Their doors are not broken. It looks like one of the first days of the outbreak when everyone stayed home under quarantine.
Maybe the second wave of the virus hasn’t hit this town yet. I heard about those isolated small communities that continued their happy lives because nobody was visiting their small town and carrying the virus with them unintentionally.
She stops in front of a bookstore. We both get off the truck.
“Welcome to the Weldon Spring, young friends!” an unmasked elderly man in his 70s says as he steps out of the bookstore with a wide smile. He has an old-fashion jean with Y-back suspenders going over his slim body. His beard is long, but it seems clean and freshly trimmed. As soon as I see him, I reach my gun holster. I can’t believe how careless we were. We didn’t see him coming.
“No need it... We are all friendly here,” he says, extending his arms on both sides like he wants to hug us.
I figure there are more people since he said we, but only an elderly woman comes out of the bookstore.
“Oh, new members for our book club!” she says, looking at us from the open door. Another elderly man with a noticeable sharp jaw appears behind her. They don’t have masks either.
“I am Harold Palmer. This young lady is my wife, Bernice. That old guy is our mayor, Burke.” Harold glances back at them with a sarcastic smile. They look polite and friendly, but alarms are still ringing in my head. Why don’t they wear masks? Why did they come out to talk to us without any weapons to protect themselves? They have a low chance of beating us in hand-to-hand combat. And why are they so nice?
They must have been bored in that bookstore reading books all day long.
I glance at Kathleen. She is staring at them with a smiley face. I think they reminded her of her own grandparents.
“We just gave a short break, sir. We’ll be on our way in a jiff,” I say. I hope Toshi woke up to cover us from the truck in case they are not who they seem to be.
“Are you trying to catch a flight? Come hang out with us for a little. It’s almost dinner time. You should try Reed’s grilled cheese with bacon. Ah, and that kale salad with lemon and beans… Everyone in the Midwest knows his fame,” Harold says, pointing to the restaurant I saw on the way.
I am not sure if he is being sarcastic. I hope the meal he described is what we will eat if we accept his offer. Grilled cheese with bacon causes signals to be transmitted from my stomach to my brain to disable safety checks.
But I decide to stay cautious and reject his offer. I don’t trust anyone except Toshi and Kathleen.
“Come on, Matt. It wouldn’t hurt having a nice meal after living off on those tasteless MREs,” Kathleen says with an almost begging voice to convince me. I look back to the truck to find out what Toshi is doing. He looks at me through the little window of the living compartment. He opens the rear door and jumps out of the truck. He must have heard the conversation about the grilled cheese sandwich.
“Hi, I’m Toshi,” he says with his calm voice as usual.
I remove the pictures of Reed’s infamous meals from my mind to assess the situation logically.
“Why don’t you wear masks? Haven’t heard about the virus?” I ask.
“We are immune... I guess it’s a perk of being an old-timer,” Bernice says.
I am not fully satisfied with the answer. Elderly people were the most vulnerable group when the pandemic first hit the country. Maybe a disease these people had in their childhood left antibodies in their blood to fight these kinds of viruses. No matter what their story is, the fact that they don’t need masks to stay alive, unlike us, irks me.
I feel like I am being too skeptical. I look at Kathleen and Toshi one more time.
“Okay. But we keep our guns,” I say.
“You remind me of my son...” The mayor looks down in tears. He seems like he wants to say more, but Harold cuts him off.
“That’s alright. Keep your guns, but I should tell you... We are like a family here,” Harold says, still smiling. I wonder what the mayor wanted to say about his son, but I know there is no point in asking.
“Feel free to leave your truck here. It will be safe. There hasn’t been anybody using this road for weeks,” Harold says as he stares at the Centaur with lifted eyebrows. The truck made another great first impression again.
He heads toward the restaurant to lead the way with the mayor. Mr. Burke doesn’t seem like the person in charge here. I don’t know why Harold calls him mayor. I have a feeling I will figure it out soon.
Bernice approaches Kathleen and touches her arm while they follow Harold and Mayor. I see them getting into a mother-daughter like conversation already. Toshi locks the truck and joins me in following them.
We enter the door with the Weldon Spring Grill sign above it. On the right side, there are a bunch of tables with two of them occupied with five or six other elderly people. On the left side, there is a bar and kitchen behind it. A senior man behind the counter is putting food on plates. He is also very slim, just like Harold. Other people in the place also seem to fit in the same profile. This situation adds another question to my list. Why are all people here senior citizens, and why are they all skin and bones? There seems to be a lot of food at least in this restaurant. They have a famous chef as well.
“Here is the man! What’s going on, Mr. Reed! We have some young friends with us today.” Harold yells to the man behind the counter.
Reed looks at us with a big smile. “Well, well, welcome to the world-famous Reed’s Grill!” Reed says.
I thought he was famous in the Midwest only.
“Thanks!” Kathleen says, pausing her conversation with Bernice. They seem to have a lot to tell each other already.
“These young friends already heard about your fabulous grilled
cheese with bacon!” Harold says, walking toward a long table at the corner. He waves his hand to the seniors sitting at tables on the opposite side of the place. They wave back while continuing their conversations. We sit around the table.
“You always have been a punctual stubborn man,” Reed says as he brings glasses of water and utensils to our table. I figure they have known each other for a long time.
While we are settling in our table, four more elderly people enter the place. Then two more come in. Everybody seems to be close friends with each other. Loud laughs and jokes never stop.
“The demography of this town is pretty interesting,” Toshi whispers to me and Kathleen. His kindness shows itself even in the words he chooses in uncomfortable situations.
“There is something fricking off here,” I say. He nods.
“You guys never drop your guard, do you?” Kathleen responds trying to be as quiet as possible as not to be heard by Bernice on her other side.
“So, tell me, my dear Kathleen. Do you have a boyfriend?” Bernice asks her. What an important topic in this apocalyptic world. Grandparents will never change, I guess.
Kathleen goes back to her riveting conversation with Bernice. I decide to go after more critical important information that may help us understand this town better.
“What happened to your son, if I may ask, Mr. Burke?” I ask the mayor sitting next to Harold. It’s time to get to know them better. Hopefully, we can figure out what is off about these people.
His grins and shrinks his eyes while looking at the salt and pepper shakers on the table. The wrinkles on his forehead become deeper. Before even he opens his mouth, Harold cuts him off again.
“We lost him in the second week of this shit. He went to the Lord just like others in this town,” Harold says.
“I heard that there weren’t enough advanced masks in the Midwest states,” I say, looking him over. This is a statement demanding more details of the story.
“Yeah,” the mayor says, and this time looks down at his shoes. He is either afraid to say something around Harold or doesn’t want to talk about his emotions. Another possibility is that I am being disrespectful and overly skeptical. I decide not to continue this conversation.
Reed brings plates with a big portion of toasts on them. Seeing the cheese melted around the edges makes my stomach rumble. He also brings two bowls of salad with tomato, lettuce, onions, and olives… They all seem fresh. They must have their own garden.
We eat our meals in small pieces by making sure we don’t push our masks too much. Harold, Bernice, and the mayor see our struggle. They kindly move to another table to give us more space.
I give credits to Reed. This grilled cheese sandwich made me lick my fingers. He might be really as good as he claims to be.
Reed lights up candles as it gets darker outside. They don’t seem to be afraid of Ricas or gangs. I wonder if they’ve even come across any of them.
“It’s already getting dark. Why don’t you spend the night here at our house?” Bernice says.
“Thank you for your offer, Mrs. Bernice. I think we better hit the road. It’s a long way to California,” I say.
“Another night in the back of the truck on a farm?” Kathleen says, turning her head to me. I turn to Toshi. He seems like he doesn’t want to be on the bad side of Kathleen. He is too nice to object to her.
“Our house is right behind this restaurant. At least come to rest for a few hours. You can get back to your mission anytime you want,” Harold says. The mayor is still quiet.
“Thank you, sir. We should really get going,” I say.
“Matt... We deserve a few hours of comfort. We’ve been on the road sitting on a firm surface in the truck,” Kathleen says. She has a point about mentioning the uncomfortable seats in the truck. The beds are neither better. Apparently, comfort wasn’t the priority for the wise man who built this doomsday vehicle.
“Alright, a few hours…” I say. There is no point in arguing with Kathleen. Especially after I exposed her to Saviors back in our city. I still feel guilty.
We finish our dinner and follow Harold and Bernice to their house behind the restaurant. Others walk to different directions in groups of two or three. It’s amazing how brave they are. They don’t have any sort of weapon, yet they walk in the dark without any hesitation. I am not sure if it’s a good sign or a red flag.
Chapter 18
Bernice and Harold have a two-story house decorated with antique wood furniture and patterned colorful rugs all around. The cozy and warm interior makes me want to sit in front of the fireplace and read a book for hours while sipping my coffee.
Harold must have read my mind. He throws lumber to the fireplace and fires it up. It starts to crackle and sends warm waves shortly after. We sit on the couch while Bernice is heating something that smells like chamomile tea.
We share about our lives before the world changed dramatically. I still don’t trust our hosts. I give as minimum information as possible to keep the conversation going. Toshi seems to be doing the same. He hasn’t even mentioned where he is from originally.
As I guessed, it’s chamomile tea. I used to drink it every morning at work. There is an additional flavor I can’t figure out though. I ignore the unknown flavor and continue sipping my tea. This warm tea makes me feel normal again.
About two hours pass by. Both Harold and Bernice are very interested in getting to know us. They treat us like their grandchildren. They said they lost both their son and daughter as well as their kids during the pandemic. We must be the only younger people they have seen for a long time.
“Please spend the night here. We have a big guest room upstairs. Jared’s friend Ray used to stay there on weekends when they were in high school,” Bernice says with a deep voice and tears in her eyes. Jared is her son’s name. I think she just wants to feel like he is at home again with his friend like a weekend in the good old days.
Kathleen holds her hand and tells her she is not alone. I see how much empathy she has for her. A real connection is building between them.
The tea’s calming effect surrounds my body. Getting back to the truck and driving on a dangerous route in the dark is not very appealing. I nod my head showing my positive response to Bernice’s wish. Kathleen smiles at me.
“Let me show you the guest room,” Harold says.
“I will be there soon guys,” Kathleen says. It looks like she wants to talk to Bernice more before going to bed.
We follow Harold to the guest room. It’s a big room as Bernice mentioned. There are a double size bed and a large couch. Harold opens a wardrobe full of mattresses and pillows. He also shows us the bathroom next door.
“Let me know if you need anything,” he says, then gently closes the door. Toshi is already lying on his stomach on the bed. I wouldn’t be surprised if he starts snoring right away. He gave us a hard time with his loud snores back in the Saviors’ camp at Asheville.
“Move to the couch, buddy, before you fall asleep. Otherwise, Kathleen will kick you out,” I say, chuckling. I have no doubts that Kathleen will refuse to sleep on the couch, and she will claim the full rights of using the bed.
We take a hot shower one by one and get in the comfortable pajamas and sleepwear we find in the wardrobe. Despite my concerns about our safety, the comfort we have in this house makes me think that our decision to stay was a good one.
Toshi is already passed out on the couch. Kathleen gets on the bed and looks at me as if trying to figure out where I am going to sleep.
“I will stay awake for a while… Then, I don’t know… I think I will make a bed for myself on the floor with blankets,” I say.
“You want to stand a watch here too?” Kathleen says snickering. “Well, I will have beautiful dreams!” she adds. She is enjoying the moment as usual.
“Night!” I say turning the lights off. I sit on the chair next to the window. The moonlight makes most of the street visible. I ca
n see the Centaur from here. I always liked seeing my vehicle from where I stay. It’s another useful habit I got from my father.
Half an hour passes by. Toshi is already snoring, but Kathleen’s sleep is deep enough to ignore him. I feel sleepy, especially after that tea, but I decide to go on a little discovery trip anyway.
I open the door quietly and check the hallway. It’s all dark. Our room is close to the stairs. The master bedroom is probably at the end of the hallway. They shouldn’t hear anything if I use the stairs to go to the first floor.
I go down on the stairs with one quiet step at a time. The candle in the living room is still lit. The kitchen is merged into the living room with an island between. The entire room has enough light to check out drawers and find out more about their life. I walk into the middle of the room to have a better look around.
I freak out when she enters the room in a white sleep dress and messy hair. I hold my breath for a second and feel goosebumps all over my skin.
“You want something, son?” Bernice asks. She is holding a glass of water.
“Um… I was very thirsty, Mrs. Bernice. The dinner is kind of burning inside me,” I say with a fake laugh. I hope she is not suspicious of my reason for being in the living room.
“Let me give you a glass of water too. I felt the same way.” She fills a glass from the jug and hands it to me. “Have a good night,” she says while passing next to me.
“Good night,” I say, trying to smile. I hear her footsteps on the stairs.
I wait for a few minutes standing in the middle of the room. My body doesn’t want to obey my brain. I have never felt this much intense sleepiness, but I can’t resist my curiosity even though I feel exhausted.
I take the candle with me and walk through the first-floor hallway. There are three doors. Two of them are brown doors with the same pattern on them. The other one is significantly different. It’s a white door without any curves and additions on it. If the other doors are for the bathroom and closet, this one must be for the basement if there is one.
