by Dell Sweet
~
For several miles before they reached and successfully passed around and beyond the city of Enid Oklahoma, black oily smoke had hung over them in the sky. They had been forced to detour more than twenty miles to the south, running through the fields to get around the still burning city. Even from that distance they could feel the heat, and occasionally see the flames leaping into the sky.
When they stopped that evening at a small lake just off 412, the glow of the fire was still visible in the distance behind them. They were both tired and dropped off to sleep before the last vibrant colors of dusk had fully faded from the sky.
The next day they traveled steadily onward toward the distant mountains. The going was slower and they had to stop several times to move stalled vehicles out of the roadway, or take other routes that were less traveled. They kept on a roughly north east direction, rising only slightly up through the states.
They had finally been stopped by the wreckage of three cars that had collided on the Quachita river bridge on 270. The collision had taken out the concrete and the guard rail on one side of the bridge. There had been a fire after the wreck. And the heat must have been tremendous. Two of the cars were wrapped around the steel guard rail that had either broken on impact or in the fire after that had shattered the remaining concrete that was still connected to it. Billy managed to winch one of the cars out of the way, and together they had pushed the other two off the bridge and into the river.
They had both watched as the cars flipped end for end, and finally landed half in the river and half on a small island that split the river. At the expense of a small amount of paint, which was scraped from the truck as they passed the one remaining vehicle, they managed to get into the Quachita National Forest preserve before nightfall.
Two additional days of travel brought them just into the Alabama border and the small community of Ardmore. They found a logging road just off 31. After Billy had set up the tent in a clearing back in the woods, he walked back over to take a closer look at the truck while Beth started dinner.
Beth had surprised him earlier in the day when they had stopped by the side of the road to rest. A large buck had wandered out of the trees to their left and stood staring at them in the roadway. She had used the Remington, and carefully sighting, had brought the large animal down. Between them they had managed to dress it out, and had filled a large plastic cooler in the back of the truck with the venison. The smell of fresh steaks sizzling on the fire made the delay worthwhile.
The trip across the country had been tough on them, but it had been much harder on the truck, Billy saw now, as he looked it over.
Most of the damage was superficial, long scrapes down both sides of the truck, a small dent here and there. The big problem however was mechanical.
The brakes were borderline, soft and spongy, probably due to the rough terrain they had traversed. Billy had, had to constantly ride the brakes as they went down steep inclines to get around the road when it was hopelessly blocked. The other problem was the motor. It had developed a constant rattle deep within the block, every time it climbed even a small grade. He supposed most of it was due to the fact that they had been forced to use whatever gas they could find, and several times that had been low grade unleaded. That and the fact that the fuel injection system had not been set up for high altitude, it had been a desert truck up until it's liberation from the garage in Arizona. The truck was running better than twelve hours at a stretch, most days, and almost all of that was labored driving: As a result the truck had also developed several small oil leaks.
He walked around the truck and looked it over carefully. The tires were chewed badly from the rocks they had crawled over. It looked ten years old, Billy realized. He pulled the map out of the glove compartment, and after studying it, decided the truck would probably make it to Athens Alabama, and they should be able to pick up something to replace it there. He really hated to though, as he had grown to like the truck a great deal, even become attached to it. But he realized the truck would never make it the rest of the way.
He tossed the map back into the glove compartment, shut the door and walked back over to the fire. The smell of the cooking venison was maddening.
While he had meant it when he told Beth she had done wonders with the canned stuff, there was nothing like the real thing. He resolved to also hunt around for a case or two of Quick Cold to keep what was left of the meat fresh when they reached Athens.
Although they had seen plenty of wildlife, they had yet to see any people. They both felt, however, that there were people. For whatever reason they just weren't showing themselves. They both understood, to a point, what would make other people distrustful of them. They had seen a lot of evidence themselves, bodies horribly mangled, cities burned, and they had no wish to meet up with the people who had left it. They had found most of the bodies as they passed through the larger cities and towns, and most looked to have met with violent deaths. It was almost as if they were trying to finish the killing that the earthquakes had not been able to finish. And more dead meant more dead rising to whatever that new life was. It wasn't something either of them liked to dwell on too long. It was sobering to both of them, and Beth had taken to carrying the machine pistol with her whenever they left the truck. Billy had already gotten into the habit of keeping the Remington close at hand, but he too now made sure it was with him, and the safety off, all the time.
Billy walked back from the truck and sat down next to the fire.
“The truck's in bad shape, Beth. The one front tire's cut to the threads already.” He had also checked the oil and other fluids. “She took two quarts of oil, last two we had, and it's still not touching the stick. Not good.”
She screwed up her face and looked at him pensively. “Well, I suppose I could get a second job. Then I guess we could afford a new one,” her humor caught him by surprise, as it usually did, and he laughed out loud.
“You are nuts, you know that?” he said. They laughed together, and then he told her that they should be able to get another truck in Athens the next day. After that she fished the meat, which she had wrapped in foil and placed over the coals at one edge of the fire, out, and they ate. They ate it with relish, and laughed at each other about what pigs they were, and then after a swim in a clear mountain stream that flowed nearby they crawled into the tent.
