By Way of Autumn

by Jacqueline Druga

‘Please,’ I thought, ‘please let us just get out of here and away from the fire. Please.’

  I turned the key.

  Nothing.

  “Shit!” I hit the steering wheel and turned the key.

  It didn’t make a sound. It was dead. Had the heat killed it?

  My only other option was to grab Tag and run, just run until I couldn’t go any further.

  One more time. Give it one more try.

  I turned it again.

  “Damn it.”

  “You have to beat it,” Tag said. “Sam does.”

  Beat it. Oh my God.

  “Hit it three times,” Sam had told me. “Don’t ask me why.”

  On Tag’s words, the memory of what Sam said, and a whole lot of hope, I banged the ignition three times and turned the key.

  The engine started.

  I squealed with delight, and threw the car in gear. Wasting no more time, I hightailed it from the carport and into our street.

  I kept going and I didn’t look back once.

  THIRTY-SIX - ASSESSING

  I didn’t stop until I knew I was a good distance away. Until the orange in the sky faded enough for me to feel secure. I had sworn Sam said he had a full tank of gas, but that wasn’t the case looking at the gauge. Maybe it was and his old car was just a guzzler.

  I pulled over to catch my breath,

  Tag had not said much. It was as much a whirlwind for him as it was for me. To make sure it wasn’t a dream, I reached over and touched him. He was cool.

  I exhaled.

  Then the guilt hit me.

  I had given up. I had no faith. Bill our neighbor swore he had a bacterial infection and I listened to Dr. Stanley. By doing so, and giving up, I nearly condemned Tag to death one way or another.

  Thankfully, we made it out of town in time. We had a shot at the last transport. It was leaving Glendale at six a.m. Not only was Glendale nearly three hundred miles away, I didn’t have a clue where in Glendale the transport was.

  I needed time. Time to get there, walk if we had to and find the transport place. I hoped the gas would get us close enough to give us enough time.

  If it didn’t, I wasn’t giving up. I’d find away. I had to. I had Tag.

  “Where are we?” Tag asked.

  I didn’t know how to answer. “Outside Falcon’s Way.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Tag...how do you feel?” I asked and turned to face him, changing the subject.

  “Better.”

  “Good. Good.” I ran my hand down his face. “You were very sick.”

  “Where is everybody?”

  I took a moment and a breath. “Tag, you know how it is hot? Well, it’s getting hotter and dangerous. Your mom, Julie, Josh …”

  “And Sam?”

  “Yes, and Sam. They went ahead to get to a safe place. You were sick, so I waited until you got better.”

  “Good thing I got better, huh?”

  “Good thing. Now, I just need to take a second and look at the supplies we have. We need supplies in case we have to walk.”

  I turned my attention to the items that spilled on the floor. A few bottles of water and packs of crackers. It wasn’t much. I gathered them up and put them in the box. Maybe we’d be lucky and pass an abandoned store.

  “Sam’s fishing backpack is behind your seat,” Tag said. “He keeps it there.”

  I turned around enough to look and sure enough, there it was. A blue knapsack. I opened it. Inside was a small blanket, flashlight, and half a roll of toilet paper. Matches, a half pint of whiskey and a few other things. I shoved the water we did have along with the crackers in the knapsack and placed it on the floor in front of Tag’s feet.

  The small amount of supplies would suffice to get us to the transport. If we needed more beyond that, I would worry about it when the time came.

  Right then, my focus was on moving forward. After a brief stop on the highway, putting the stash of gas in the tank, we continued on our journey to Glendale.

  THIRTY-EIGHT – CATCHING BREATH

  Tag had fallen asleep pretty quickly in the car. I worried he was relapsing, especially when he’d cough occasionally. But that was only my fear. His fever stayed away and he was just recovering.

  He didn’t ask many questions, that was a good thing because I didn’t know how to answer them.

  Halfway through our journey we came across Dispon’s Oasis. A truck stop diner and gas station. It was empty, not a car or soul in sight.

  I kept thinking about the transport and how it was taking us east. The east coast wasn’t close, the journey would be long and what if we were responsible for our own well being and survival.

  A few bottles of water and crackers weren’t going to cut it.

  I pulled right up to the door. We needed to stop for a few minutes and see if they had anything. When I opened the door for Tag, I realized he was still very weak. His little legs wobbled and he lost his balance.

  “I’m sorry, Marmie,” he said.

  “No, don’t be. I’ll carry you.”

  He was half my size, but somehow I didn’t pay attention to whether he was heavy or not, His legs tried to latch on to my waist, but they kept slipping and dangling over my knees.

  The door was locked, the diner shut down. I put Tag back in the car while I sought out the tire rod from the trunk and busted the door window.

  When I cleared a safe path, I lifted Tag again.

  Once inside I set him down. Immediately he eyed the rack of goodies by the register.

  “Can I have candy? I’m hungry.”

  “Absolutely,” I grabbed a candy bar for him. It was soft and half melted from the heat. After unwrapping it, I grabbed a paper napkin and handed them both to Tag. “Eat slowly.”

  It was eerily empty in that diner. There were no plates of food, half eaten meals. It had been closed for days. Not much longer because there wasn’t a lot of dust.

  I took out what I didn’t need from Sam’s backpack, and put in what I could. Searching around that diner, I was able to get another pack from the tiny gift shop. I could have taken a lot more water, but I had to keep in mind the weight of the packs.

  Tag and I could ration water.

  I shoved boxes of cereal, granola bars, and items that would keep and not melt.

  Of course batteries went in the bag as well.

  We took a break in that diner, not too long, but enough time to get my bearings and get some food in us.

  Because I didn’t know when we’d see, or use a real one again, Tag and I used the bathroom and then, refreshed and full, we took off again.

  We’d get there, I was confident. Even if we missed the transport, we were better off than staying in Falcon’s Way. Whether our journey ended in Glendale or not, I knew everything was going to be okay. I’d make it be okay. I had Tag. He was alive and he gave me reason to keep going.

  THIRTY-NINE - HEADLIGHTS

  July 18

  I was hopeful. We were doing well. Then just as the sign appeared that told us thirty-seven miles to Phoenix, the car sputtered out the last bit of gas and died. I was glad that it was in the later portion of the day. At least the heat would be more tolerable, if that were possible.

  Stay hydrated, steady and focused.

  That was my plan.

  I could do it. I could do thirty-seven miles.

  I didn’t take into account, the two backpacks nor the fact that I had to carry Tag most of the way.

  With thoughts only on getting there, I kept walking. Once and a while, Tag would walk, it gave me a break. Then he’d wear down, his legs would give out and we’d stop.

  Once the sun had set, it was easier. But it was still unbearably hot.

  I kept focused. My mind spun with thoughts. At first, they were negative. If we made the transport, then what? What was next? They would move us east? Would we even find our family? Would we spend the next weeks or months, possibly years looking for them?

  The thought of
that scared me.

  Then it was easily replaced with the thoughts of Nicole. How happy she would be to see her son. How thrilled Julie would be to find out we hadn’t died.

  Those thoughts kept me going.

  I had no idea what time it was. As long as the sky stayed dark we were good. We had to stop a lot. Both for me and Tag. Thirty-seven miles when neither of us was well was a difficult task. As we moved on, I felt my body weaken. I no longer walked a straight and steady line, with or without Tag in my arms. I grew fearful of dying. What if I died? What if I collapsed? Then what would happen to Tag?

  He fell asleep in my arms and I found myself stopping more frequently. The last time I stopped, was the one that told me I was done. I sat down and it took everything I had to get back up. When I did, I noticed not only the outline of Phoenix, but the sky was getting lighter.

  There was no way we were making that last transport.

  Time for a Plan B. Use the walking to think of that, instead of failure in getting there. How would we survive? Head east.

  Stay ahead of the flames.

  Surely there were others.

  My legs began to fold with each step. I was barely able to walk. My stomach cramped, back hurt, arms ached. Each time I adjusted Tag in my arms, I felt myself starting to fall.

  Just when I thought, ‘We aren’t making it anyhow, we might as well stop,’ I heard it.

  Beep.

  A honk of a horn, sound of a motor and when I looked up, a truck rolled by me.

  I didn’t even have the energy to scream out.

  I didn’t need to. A hundred feet up the road, the brake lights lit and then the truck backed up.

  I stepped out of the way in case some sadistic person wanted to run us down. Instead, the truck stopped.

  The driver was a thickset man in his forties, Hispanic. He leaned to the door and pushed it open.

  “You trying to catch the last transport?” he asked.

  I exhaled, nearly in tears from his rescue. “Yes.”

  “Get in.” He pushed the door wider. “I will take you.”

  “Oh God, thank you.”

  It was awkward trying to get into the truck, backpacks on both shoulders and Tag in my arms. I was scared to put him in first. What if the driver took off? Then he reassured my faith in humanity by placing the truck in gear, stepping out and helping me in. I placed the bags on the floor and kept Tag in my arms.

  Suddenly my exhaustion left. I was exhilarated with hope.

  “Thank you, thank you so much,” I told him.

  “You’re welcome. Luis,” he said. “My name is Luis.”

  “Tess,” I introduced myself. “This is Tag. His real name is Steven.”

  “Is he sick?”

  Before I could answer, Tag groaned out. “Not anymore.”

  “He was,” I said. “He’s better now.”

  “I am not sure we will make the last transport.” He reached over and lifted a transistor radio. “If we do not, I have enough gas, we can try to catch it. Or keep going.”

  “I have supplies.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Do you know where it is?”

  “The transport?” he asked. “Yes, at the arena in Glendale. That is the last one. Last radio transmission I heard said not many people were left.”

  “Why are you so late?” I asked. “And trust me, I am so glad you were.”

  “Long story,” he said. “You?”

  “Long story as well.”

  Luis stared forward for a moment, then said. “My wife was very ill. I stayed with her. I was not leaving, but changed my mind at the last moment after she passed.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss. I stayed back for the same reason. My husband died, but this little guy, he got better.” I looked down to Tag. “And it was a mad dash. I didn’t think I’d be doing this. I thought we would die.”

  “Me as well,” he said. “But when faced against the odds, when faced with death, suddenly we fight for our right to live. This mad dash is our fight.”

  “Will we win?” I asked.

  Luis hesitated before answering. “We already have.”

  FORTY - LAST TRANSPORT

  In the short span of time that I rode in the truck with Luis, I learned a lot about him. He didn’t mention the distance we were from Glendale, but he said he was impressed with how far I had walked. He had seen our car on the side of the road and was looking out for us.

  “It didn’t look as if it had been there for long,” he said. “I slowed down to get a good look and kept an eye out.”

  “We are so glad you did.”

  His story was very similar to mine. He had resolved himself to dying. Having lost his mother and father, then his wife. Luis told the exact same story, he was lying in bed with his wife, her final hours. He was watching the sky grew more orange, and then she passed.

  Something clicked in him. It wasn’t like he was waiting on her death to run, he hadn’t planned on that. But the second she died, he changed his mind.

  “I don’t know what happened, but suddenly I wanted to live,” he said. “I wanted to see what was going to become of this world, hard or not.”

  He drove quickly, glancing at the old wristwatch he wore. Never did he mention the time, but I knew we were cutting it close.

  “Keep an eye out,” he said. “For any movement, any vehicles. Some are trains that are taking people, some are trucks.”

  “Do you know anything else?” I asked. “Anything at all.”

  “No, I’m sorry. Maybe they will give information when we get there.”

  When we get there. In my mind, it was more ‘if’ we get there.

  Phoenix was a ghost town. Not a soul on the street, no movement, no cars. It was so dead, not even a breeze swept up and moved the litter.

  Luis’ madman driving skills picked up, squealing the tires as he pushed the limits to get to the Arena.

  He knew, I knew when it was in sight ….we had missed the transport.

  Empty.

  He slowed down as he drove across the entrance plaza, pulled directly to the doors and then put the truck in park.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “No. No, don’t apologize. You tried. We’d still be on the highway. What time is it? How long did we miss it by?”

  His lips puckered and he shifted his eyes to his watch. “Six fifteen.”

  I exhaled. In actuality, we probably had already missed it when he grabbed us on the side of the road.

  “I have a generator in back. A small one,” he said. “There will be lots of places we can get supplies. We can siphon gas, pump it from the reserves at stations. We can make it east.”

  “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

  He nodded. “And the transports are moving many people. Which means they will stop for breaks. We will run into one of them. We stay ahead of the flames we stay alive.”

  “I’m in. We’re in.”

  “I’m gonna go inside and check to see if there is any information. Perhaps they posted a notice for those who missed the transport.”

  “Good idea.”

  He opened the truck door and stepped out. I watched Luis walk to the door, look around, then open it.

  It was warm in the truck, Tag stirred in my arms, and I figured we’d step out and get some air.

  “Wanna go outside?” I asked Tag. “Wait for Luis?”

  Tag nodded and peeped out a ‘yes’.

  I removed Tag from my lap, opened the door and hopped down. Then I grabbed him. I was hopeful Luis would find information, but I wasn’t counting on it. I was however, confident that we would make it east. There was no doubt in my mind. Not that I wouldn’t have made it east on my own, I was just grateful that Luis happened upon us and I didn’t have to do it alone.

  Tag’s head rested on my shoulder. He was tired, worn out. From a death bed to a mad dash, it took its toll on the boy.

  “A man,” he said.

  “Yes, Luis, he’ll be right back.
” I kept my eyes on the door waiting for him to come out.

  Then I saw it, a reflection in the glass doors. Someone was approaching us from behind. I could clearly see he had a rifle.

  My heart pounded.

  “Are you looking for the last transport?” he called out.

  I spun around and wheezed out a huge sigh of relief when I saw a male soldier.

  “Yes. Yes we were,” I answered. “But we missed it.”

  “No, you actually didn’t.” He pointed back. “We stopped about three blocks back. Very few people are on the bus and I came back for one last sweep.”

  Emotionally I gasped out “Thank you for doing one last sweep,” and with Tag in my arms, I gave the soldier my best embrace.

  He chuckled. “Good hearted as I am. I wanted to go. But some crazy guy on the bus made us check one more time. Said he saw a pickup flying in on the highway. Damned if he wasn’t right.” He pointed to Luis’ truck. “If you’re ready, we can head over.”

  “My friend … he’s checking the arena.”

  “Stay put. Gather your stuff,” he said. “You look pretty beat. I’ll go search for him.”

  “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

  As the solider walked away, before getting our supplies, I grasped and squeezed Tag. “We did it. We made it.”

  <><><><>

  We ended up giving Craig, the soldier a ride back to the transport. He had walked the three blocks. I will never forget Luis’ face when he emerged from the arena with the soldier. It was so happy, and this newly found friend embraced me as if he had known me for years.

  The transport was a gray school bus. Another soldier was at the door when we pulled up.

  “Oh, he was right,” the other soldier said. “He did see a truck.”

  “Tell me about it,” Craig replied. At the bus door they took our names and gave us a bracelet with a number on it. “Don’t lose that. That’s how we are keeping track of all refugees.” He placed a bracelet on Tag. “He’s one number after you,” Craig said. “Not that you’ll get separated, but just so you know.”

  I was number, 56,877.

  He then instructed us to take our things and get on the bus. It was a long journey.