Silent Reaping

by P D Platt

  “Wait, can you even drive an eighteen-wheeler?” he asked.

  Skye had to admit she’d never driven a semi-trailer truck but reminded him of her mechanical aptitude, “If it’s got wheels and a motor—I can figure it out.”

  They planned to head to a petroleum distribution company twenty minutes east, in the industrial area near the interstate. The company supplied fuel to the area’s gas stations and local manufacturing plants. Believing Kal’s account of roadblocks, they agreed to only travel as far as they needed to reach the distributor. Its exit was still dozens of miles from the roadblock Kal mentioned.

  They decided to travel on the interstate, out of a need born of haste and a large dose of curiosity. Both were experiencing the same need to know if there was any traffic, any activity at all. They felt compelled to alert any travelers they encountered, wanting to warn them of the dangers they were heading into.

  Solomon pulled onto the on-ramp and paused at the interstate’s edge as they gawked in both directions. Silence. Far removed from the normal nonstop bustle of traffic, the roadway was desolate. Although expected, its condition still shocked them. The camouflaged pavement hid beneath the natural scatters of nature. Other vehicles were simply nonexistent.

  Cars had obviously traveled the route—wheel tracks visible down the center of the double lane, where their tires had swept a path clean. A roadway designed for millions of cars per year had been reduced to a single lane roadway, quickly transforming into a rustic country road.

  Driving down the interstate, they didn’t pass a single moving vehicle.

  Leaves and dust swirled behind them, the truck easily parting the unrelenting covering that would soon deliver a permanent erasure of the roadway. Solomon drove at a fast clip, but far from the eighty-mile-an-hour speeds of the previous world. Vigilance was needed to avoid wildlife, no longer frightened away by the never-ending roar of traffic.

  He slowed as they approached a vehicle in the emergency lane, both scanning inside the compact car for a clue of what might have happened to the driver. The car stood empty, indicating it had most likely been abandoned prior to the virus.

  They kept moving, passing another two more vehicles suffering from mechanical failure: a minivan propped on a jack with its front wheel removed, and an abandoned trailer with a mini-excavator as its payload—both of the trailer’s left-side tires were flat.

  Curious about the stories behind these abandoned vehicles, they wondered whether their owners were alive or dead. It appeared the few travelers who remained to drive the interstate had already looted and plundered any lonely vehicles they encountered, leaving the telltale sign of gas tank covers flipped open, after having siphoned the tanks dry.

  As they approached a truck weigh station, they almost missed seeing the gift they were looking for, parked in the long, narrow lot. The pull-off area of the station contained exactly what they were looking for: a fuel tanker. There were two other eighteen-wheelers, one a flatbed with a load of immense steel I-beams, the other a newer-model truck with a white unmarked trailer.

  “Could it be?” Solomon asked, pointing at the tanker.

  “Well…it is carrying diesel—according to its placard,” Skye observed. “Question is—is she full?”

  Solomon braked hard, the tires skidding on the leaf-strewn pavement. He threw the pickup in reverse and backed onto the entrance of the weigh station.

  They checked the cabs of the tanker and the trailer truck for the inevitable corpses. The smell was evident from a dozen paces away.

  Solomon pointed to the rear of the trailer. “Let’s see if this guy was hauling anything worthwhile.”

  Using the long crowbar that she’d snagged from the dealership, Skye levered the padlock. After a few grunting pries, the hasp popped free. “Figured it’d come in handy.”

  They tugged on the metal handles, turning the rods that secured the trailer’s doors. As Solomon slowly pulled it open, Skye peered inside, hoping to find it full of groceries. They stared at the cargo for a few seconds, then turned to each other and burst into laughter. It was filled with electronics—televisions and computers mostly.

  “Any other time, we would have been rich!” Solomon joked.

  Although they were disappointed, their laughter helped minimize the sting of coming up empty on a food jackpot. Turning her attention to the fuel tanker, Skye climbed up the short ladder to the top and flipped back the lid to check the fuel level.

  “Well?” Solomon asked as she purposely left him in suspense.

  Maintaining a deadpan expression, Skye closed the lid and climbed back down, not once making eye contact with him.

  “Empty?” Solomon guessed.

  Skye grinned before embracing him in an ecstatic hug. “Jackpot, baby! Full to the brim!”

  “Awesome! Let’s remove the driver and get the cab aired out.” Solomon playfully jabbed back at Skye for messing with him about the fuel, “I’m glad you’re the one driving that thing. I’ll be busy enjoying my new-car smell.”

  With a wink, Skye delivered a gentle shove to his chest. “You’ll pay for that later.”

  Solomon climbed onto the sidesteps of the rig and grinned at her before smashing the passenger side window to unlock the door. Gagging, he had to step back to the ground after opening both doors wide to ventilate the cab as best as possible.

  They located the rotting corpse in the small sleeper cab. Fortunately, the driver was in a sleeping bag, making it a bit easier to move the body. After a few back-and-forths for fresh air, Solomon maneuvered the zippered bag closed. Working together, they lifted the body out and placed it inside the nearby tractor-trailer.

  “Let’s give it a few minutes,” Solomon suggested.

  They took a break, each gulping down a bottle of water while the breeze purged the cab. As an indistinct drumming noise grew louder, they looked at each other in puzzlement. Their full attention moved toward the interstate.

  A motorcycle entered the on-ramp and approached the scales at high speed, slowing only when it reached the parking area of the station. Solomon and Skye instinctively readied their weapons and took cover behind their truck, which they’d parked parallel to the fuel tanker.

  The rider circled them in a wide, slow arc, close enough for them to spot an automatic rifle strapped to his back. The helmetless man wore dark goggles, and a black bandana covered his nose and mouth, making it difficult to gauge his intentions. Skye got the distinct impression he was scoping them out, trying to figure out if they were alone, and whether or not they had weapons.

  Solomon looked over at her. She’d positioned herself near the hood with her trusted shotgun while he propped his rifle over the bed of their pickup. “What do you think? Threat?”

  “Maybe,” she said. “Or just a weirdo being nosy.”

  “Guess we’re about to find out,” Solomon said as they watched the man halt his bike about fifty yards away and kill its engine. The man slid his goggles onto his forehead, pushing back the tufts of his buzz-cut hair. Snatching his bandana to his neck, he exposed a scruffy brown beard.

  He approached with his palms facing them, his assault rifle still slung on his back. “Easy there, folks.” He continued to ease toward them with his hands outstretched. “I’m not here to hurt you. Just need you to understand that whatever it is you’re thinking; you need to forget it. Just get back in your fancy pickup and head on out. These trucks don’t belong to you.”

  Skye looked at Solomon and shrugged, not understanding what demands the man thought he could make. He was alone and didn’t have his weapon drawn. They had theirs trained on him from two directions.

  Solomon straightened and moved closer to the end of their pickup while keeping his gun aimed at the stranger. “And I guess you’re going to explain how these are your trucks?”

  Throwing back his head, the man forced out a dramatic laugh, “I get it. You have yourselves some guns, and you probably know how to shoot a bit. Hell—you may even have shot someone by now.”
The man pulled a cigarette pack from his jacket pocket, ignoring their commands to remain still.

  “One more move, and I’ll turn you into ground meat,” Skye shouted.

  The man lit his cigarette and took a few puffs. “Don’t worry, missy. I’m no threat. But I have a lot of friends you really don’t want to meet. Since you’re a rookie in this new world, you get a pass today. I’m going to turn around, get on my bike, and radio my crew about the fuel I’ve found. Our fuel. I suggest you get out of here before they arrive.”

  “What the hell are you talking about, asshole?” Solomon asked.

  “You’re dead right—I am an asshole.” The biker tossed his cigarette in Solomon’s direction and forced another laugh. “And I’m one of the good ones.”

  Crackling static came from the direction of the motorcycle. Solomon noticed the CB antenna attached to its rear.

  The stranger turned and headed toward his bike. “Last opportunity to get gone.”

  Solomon aimed his rifle and fired; the motorcycle’s fuel tank erupted in an explosive burst of flames. Covering the back of his head with his heavy arms, the stranger dived to the ground.

  Skye froze, surprised by Solomon’s rapid escalation.

  Solomon held his aim on the biker. “How about you get gone.”

  The man scrambled to his knees, crawling a few feet before stumbling into a clumsy jog back toward the interstate. As they watched the man trot farther and farther away, Solomon finally spoke, nodding to the tanker. “Can you get that thing started? I have a feeling we won’t be safe here much longer.”

  “No kidding,” Skye said as she jumped into the cab. “I’m already on it.” She fiddled with the truck’s controls, not noticing Solomon get into his pickup until the sound of it peeling off grabbed her attention. “Hey! Where are you going?” Skye shouted, despite it being impossible for him to hear.

  She watched as the pickup effortlessly caught up with the trotting man. The stranger turned toward the truck as it pulled alongside. Solomon’s arm extended from his window, and a single muffled pop echoed off the tree line, barely audible over the cold protesting rumble of the tanker’s diesel engine.

  The man hunched forward and collapsed to the ground.

  As the truck’s engine warmed and smoothed out its rhythm, Skye watched Solomon drive slowly back toward her. He climbed onto the sidestep of the truck as its massive engine purred away. Blank and somber, Solomon’s eyes begged for a response of approval. As Solomon continued to stare at her without seeing, Skye remained rigidly planted in the seat, stuck within her own haze of shock.

  Finally, Solomon’s trembling lips parted, and he spoke, “If he would have told…”

  “You don’t have to explain—you did the right thing.” Skye patted the accelerator, revving the engine toward its operating temperature. “C’mon, let’s get out of here. I’ll drive as fast as I can and figure it out as I go.”

  “Okay. I’ll follow you…just in case…”

  ___

  Solomon lagged behind several times on the return trip, paranoid that the motorized gang was in hot pursuit. This fear reinforced his decision to kill the scout. The man would’ve pieced together enough information about them and the truck to enable his gang to eventually track them down. That wasn’t an option. His daughter and new family came before all else, including the lives of others. Anyone posing an obvious risk, or even a perceived one, had to be taken down.

  Their journey ended uneventfully, with no further encounters or signs of being followed. Once back at the nursing home, Skye backed the truck with precision to the rear of the nursing home, hiding it from view of the main road. The lot was getting crowded, and it required some shuffling of vehicles to make it all work.

  “So, what part of what happened out there do we share with the others?” Solomon asked as they prepared to go inside.

  “Don’t worry,” Skye said, grabbing his hand. “You did the right thing. I think it showed courage.”

  Solomon gently turned her to face him, leveling his eyes on hers. “You don’t see me as some cold-hearted murderer, do you?”

  Studying his face, Skye clasped his shoulders before bringing her forehead to rest against his. “I’d only be worried if you weren’t upset right now.”

  He kissed her forehead. “Thank you.”

  When they shared the good news of their fuel discovery with the group, the children were more interested in exploring the cab of the big truck. What impressed Mia most was that Skye could drive such a huge machine, this only added to her mystique in the impressionable young girl’s eyes.

  Although Solomon and Skye warned Karen and Kal of the ruthless gang that was obviously roaming, they deliberately omitted the detail of Solomon killing their scout. They hadn’t known them long enough to anticipate their reaction.

  Vigilance must now be preached and practiced daily, instilling it into the little ones was especially important. Simple things, such as following the two most important house rules. Rule number one was never go anywhere alone. The second rule was to always keep your senses tuned for anything out of the ordinary. If something doesn’t feel right, tell someone immediately. Stay alert to stay alive. Even children must be responsible for their own safety now—this new world demanded it for their continued existence.

  Chapter 24—Knowledge

  Friday, May 8

  The truth is difficult to ignore, impossible to forget. Their run-in with the highway marauder, obviously a scout for a large and dangerous group, solidified Kal’s warning, and the collective decision was made to remain in the Skylark Assisted Living Center. It was sturdily constructed, had a generator capable of powering the entire complex, ample rooms and storage galore for supplies, even a flat roof that was useful in many respects—from providing a sentry point to upgrading their water collection and solar water heating system.

  Their rain collection methods became increasingly sophisticated as they used powered sump pumps to transport water from the collection barrels to a large plastic tank on the roof. From there, Solomon piped water to a few chosen bathrooms, letting gravity feed the water to the sinks and toilets. Routing a separate plumbing line from black metal drums on the roof provided them with hot showers. Access to these simple amenities boosted everyone’s morale exponentially.

  A gravity-fed plumbing system meant they didn’t have to operate the generator nonstop; instead, they shut it down at night and only ran it during the day, using its energy more effectively. When they fired it up in the morning, everyone began their chores of cleaning, cooking, or working on projects that required power tools. They restarted the air conditioning, refilled the water tanks, and recharged batteries.

  But what sold Solomon on Skylark, more than any of these other things, was its secure interior courtyard. For the children, it was a fantastical place where their imaginations could run free. And for the adults, it was the one place they could relax and enjoy the sunshine, sit on one of the benches or swings, drink their coffee, or even take a nap in the shade. All could be done without any foreboding or trepidation—their claustrophobic grasp didn’t exist inside those four walls.

  Discovering Kal’s former occupation as a high school principal set the wheels of thought in motion for Solomon, and he gathered the group in the dayroom to discuss his idea. He surveyed their faces; though weary, none wore a look of worry or despair. This was a medley of unique people, ones that perhaps wouldn’t have met under different circumstances. They were a family now; one filled with a camaraderie that strengthened every day.

  Before addressing them, he took a moment to reflect on the struggles everyone had endured to get to this one safe place.

  There was Karen, the compassionate, selfless nurse, who’d dedicated herself to helping others when no one else would. Even though she’d recently lost her last patient, she had given him diligent care until the very end. Despite his bleak prognosis and lack of proper medication, she’d ensured an abundance of comfort until his natural life ende
d. She’d done her absolute best, sacrificing so much to aid the helpless, knowing she would inevitably lose them all. Her character was impeccable and virtuous, and her kindness inspired everyone. They all regarded her with the greatest of respect.

  The newest member of their group, Kal, was an educator with strong and loyal ties to his family. His perseverance in making the dangerous journey to check on them demonstrated his grit and altruism. Solomon knew the addition of a trustworthy and capable person was a valuable gain; these qualities were hard to come by in such a distrustful world. His presence strengthened their group.

  He then looked at Skye—the most courageous person he’d ever met—a mechanical savant with a complex and beautiful soul. Her brilliant spirit flared like the tips of a wildfire, making her enticing and attractive, passionate and fierce. He’d become permanently intertwined with her, a weakness he embraced, finding love in a desolate world meant everything.

  And then there were the children.

  Little Mia, who’d been through so much trauma, shone brightly now, her uncle’s presence gradually disintegrating her shell of despair. She’d begun smiling more and talking without encouragement. Such resilience in someone so young was a true inspiration.

  As hardy and happy-go-lucky as ever, Daveek was eager to help and a natural leader for the younger girls, whom he considered his little sisters now. He thrived on learning new things and watched everything Solomon and Skye worked on, already showing great promise as a problem solver.

  And, his daughter, Emily—she continued to be the joy of the room. Never lacking a smile, she had a natural ability to cultivate laughter in those around her. Quick to sense tension in a room, she excelled at gauging others’ frames of mind. Solomon could hide nothing from her swift intuition.

  Emily threw her arms in the air as she sat cross-legged on the floor. “Well, Daddy, what’s the big ’nouncement?” Her cheeky outburst made everyone laugh—a wholesome sound. Emily grinned at the smiling faces around her before winking at her father.