Alone, Book 3: The Journey

by Darrell Maloney

  “On a whim, I plugged it into my generator, and was amazed to find out it still works. It loses about ten minutes a day, but for the most part it still ran.

  “I also had a floor lamp in my attic that still worked. So that made me wonder. If some things survived because they weren’t connected to a power source at the time of the blackout, and therefore escaped the massive power surge that the EMPS created, wouldn’t the same apply to automobile parts that weren’t connected to a car?”

  The only one of the three who knew anything about cars was Shadow, who nodded his head and said, “Stands to reason.”

  Dakota scratched his chin. Stan’s face was not unlike a deer staring at a car’s headlights.

  Dave went on.

  “The key, of course, is the battery. It is, in essence, its own electrical system. Therefore, any battery that contained acid at the time of the blackout is shot and cannot be repaired.

  “If you have any chance of bringing any of your vehicles back to life, you’ve got to find batteries that are still dry. Then you have to find the acid to put in them.”

  Shadow looked at him and asked, “Where in heck do we find batteries like that?”

  “Look at tractor dealers, or farm implement companies. When the government mandated sealed batteries for passenger vehicles, the agricultural lobby got an exemption for farm equipment. They still make the old fashioned kind of batteries, where you can pop the tops off and add water occasionally. But they only sell them for industrial vehicles and farm equipment.

  “If you can find such batteries, that’s what you need. They were sold dry. They weren’t activated until they were sold, and then the dealer put acid and water in them. Since they’re still sitting on the shelf and still dry, the EMP wouldn’t have had any affect on them.

  “Find those batteries and you have a chance at getting your vehicles running again.

  “Then go to an auto parts store. Buy new parts to replace your entire electrical system. Or, bypass your fuse box like I did and just connect the basics. My lights and radio don’t work, but I don’t care. It’ll get me to Kansas City and back, and that’s all I care about.”

  Dakota looked at Shadow.

  “Does what he’s saying make sense to you?”

  Shadow thought hard, but couldn’t see any holes in Dave’s theory.

  “You mean if I replace the electronic ignition, the fuel injection system, the battery and the starter, it’ll work?”

  “I’d replace the solenoid too. In fact, the starter may be okay if the solenoid fried first and the surge never got to the starter. Also, the alternator or generator.”

  Shadow looked at Dakota.

  “Hell, I think he’s onto something.”

  Dakota stated the obvious.

  “Well, no shit, Sherlock. He got his own vehicle running. What I want to know, is if we send you and a couple of saddlebags into town, can you bring the parts back and do the same?”

  Shadow swallowed hard.

  He hated to commit himself to a result he wasn’t sure of.

  But, on the other hand, he was a cowboy.

  And a cowboy’s life was, after all, full of risks.

  “If a city slicker can do it, I can too.”

  Then he turned to Dave and asked him, “Anything else I need to do after I get it all put back together?”

  “Yep,” Dave said with a slight grin.

  “Pray.”

  Chapter 20

  Dakota put the lid back on the jar of provisions and returned it to the back seat of the Explorer.

  Then he went back to Dave and shook his hand again.

  “Do you expect to come this way again?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. If I-35 is still blocked I’ll have to bypass it again. This appears to be the best way to do that.”

  “How long before you figure you’ll be back?”

  “I honestly don’t know. If I can keep my vehicle running and keep anyone from taking it, it might be as soon as a week or two. If I have to go on foot, and if we have to return on foot, it could be early summer.”

  “Well, I wish you well. If you do come back this way, stop on the bridge to Screaming Woman Creek and fire two shots. We’ll come running to say hello.”

  “It’s funny you should mention that. I saw the sign that said, ‘Screaming Woman Creek: 1 Mile.’ There’s got to be a story behind the name.”

  “This used to be Indian Territory. Apaches, mostly. The story goes that a long time ago, a brave went out on a war party and never came back. His squaw cried in sorrow, and to this day you can still hear her wailing on a windy day.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Of course, some say it’s just the way the valley interacts with the winds, whipping through the mesquite trees. But me, I’d rather believe the legend. Despite all of our so-called ‘progress’ since the wild west days, I still believe this part of the country has its own magic. And as long as those old stories live on, the old west will too.”

  “I agree. And if I come back this way with my family, we’ll definitely stop to say hello.”

  Shadow never got off his horse, but leaned down to shake Dave’s hand.

  Stan handed back Dave’s loaded handgun, butt first. Dave had won his trust. As Stan mounted up he said, “Good luck to you, partner. I don’t like your odds. But I hope you make it.”

  “Thank you.”

  A few minutes later Dave was back behind the wheel, cruising once again at fifteen miles an hour. He was still just a bit shaken by the whole ordeal. It’s not a pleasant thing for a man to have loaded weapons pointed at him.

  But at the same time, his faith that the nation would continue to recover from the blackout was renewed.

  Somehow, just knowing there were still men like Dakota, Shadow and Stan around, still riding fences the old way, still protecting their cattle, made him proud to be a Texan.

  But for now he couldn’t dwell on that. He had a mission. And he had to focus. He’d let his guard down once and was stopped dead in his tracks. He couldn’t let it happen again.

  He pressed on, changing roads a couple of times and having to briefly stop and make sure he wasn’t getting himself lost.

  And he got better at reading the horizon. The tree line was a couple of shades darker than the night sky beyond it. Once he figured that out, he could glance up from the road every few seconds.

  If he saw a break dead ahead in the slightly darker tree line, where the highway cut through it, he knew that the road was straight for half a mile or so.

  No break meant there was a curve ahead.

  Once he figured that out, he was able to speed up a bit.

  Hopefully enough to outrun any other cowboys, or marauders, on horseback.

  Granted, it was a small thing. But it was a combination of small things he’d learned over the past couple of years that had kept him alive this long.

  He also noticed that there were far fewer abandoned cars on the road. And no big rigs at all. Big rigs never used the smaller county roads and state highways. They slowed them down, and they had deliveries to make.

  The absence of the trucks and the fewer cars allowed Dave to depress his accelerator even more.

  The last time he checked his map, he was only a few miles from Highway 281, and he had a full hour and a half before sunrise. He’d make it after all.

  Highway 281 would take him past Austin and allow him to reconnect with the I-35 later.

  Or, it would give him the option of following 281 all the way to the top of Texas, where he could switch to I-44 to cross into Oklahoma.

  He had a long way to go, but he’d make it. He had to.

  Chapter 21

  Hi, Babe.

  I’ve had a very long and interesting night. I had to backtrack to avoid a FEMA roadblock, I had guns pointed at me, and I heard a legend about an old Apache squaw who still haunts this part of Texas.

  And I’ve learned some things, too.

  I’ve learned how vulnerable I am dri
ving at such low speeds.

  I’ve learned that real, old fashioned cowboys still exist, and that they haven’t changed much since the days of the old west.

  I’ve learned that there are other good people out there who are not out to take from others or kill for the sake of killing. They, like us, are content to survive, and to protect what’s theirs.

  I’ve had a minor setback, and I’m not where I wanted to be at this time. But I’m still moving, and that’s a good thing.

  In the Corps, they’re big on making adjustments as a campaign progresses. They say that the Army accepts things as they are. The Air Force flies their planes and drops their bombs. The Navy’s on shore leave. The United States Marine Corps evaluates, adapts and overcomes. I don’t know how many times I heard Gunny Gonzales say those words.

  Well, apparently I’ve learned. I’ve evaluated the situation, and I’m steering away from the interstate highways for the rest of the trip. If I have to detour to the secondary highways in every city of any size, then I might as well just stay off the interstate altogether. I-35 goes through Fort Worth, then Denton, then Gainesville, then Oklahoma City.

  Screw that. I put the second cache at Mile Marker 350 on Highway 281. I put a checkmark on the map to remind you if I don’t make it.

  I don’t know if I told you already, but I continue to be haunted by my dream of Lindsey. Try as I might, I can’t for the life of me figure out why she would come to me and tell me to take care of the rabbits. The only thing I can think of is that she didn’t make it, and she’s trying to watch out for me.

  I’m a big believer that our loved ones watch over us after their passing. You know that I used to have visions of my grandmother long after she died. And that sometimes she warned me about things. It was her who told me not to go out with my friends that night when they crashed into a tree and Davey died. Everybody thought I was crazy when I told them my dead grandmother saved my life that night. But I’ve always believed that.

  It was also Granny who told me to give you a second chance, that night we had a big fight and broke up. I didn’t understand why. But I think she somehow knew we were destined to be together. That’s why I never dated anyone else during those few months. Instead, I waited for you to see the same thing.

  I don’t know why, but I’m thinking that if Lindsey didn’t make it, then she’s trying to help me in the same way that Grandmother did.

  And I hope I’m wrong.

  Because as much as I’d like to have a guardian angel watching out for me, I’d much rather have my daughter.

  And if Lindsey didn’t survive, that opens up a lot of other questions.

  Does that mean you and Beth didn’t survive either? I mean, an airplane falling from the sky like a rock is a pretty tough thing to live through.

  It’s hard for me to believe that if that happened, if your plane fell out of the sky that you and Beth wouldn’t have perished as well.

  I also know for certain that Lindsey wouldn’t have been the only one to make it to heaven. You are three of the best people I’ve ever known. And you were just as righteous, just as deserving, as our Lind.

  Does that mean you’re separated in heaven? That you’re not together as a family, as you were here on earth? Does that mean that only Lind has the ability to visit me, to tell me things? If so, then why?

  And if it’s true that none of you survived, they why would Lindsey tell me about rabbits? Wouldn’t she have told me to stay put? Not to waste my time going to Kansas City, that there was no one there to rescue?

  I guess I can look at it two ways. I can assume that Lind perished. And that you and Beth, against all odds, somehow managed to survive.

  And that she wants me to come to Kansas City to rescue you.

  And that’s why she didn’t warn me not to.

  And the other option is that she hasn’t come to visit me at all. That I’m finally, after all this time, going mad. That my dream about her coming to tell me about the rabbits is just a dream. Just a stupid, senseless dream.

  As much as I don’t like the idea that I’m going mad, I hope I am.

  Because if she did visit me, it means my first born, that baby I once held in the palm of my hands… that baby who once looked up at me with those big eyes and melted my heart… that girl I watched grow into a strong and strong minded girl, and a hard-headed but wonderful teenager…

  That would mean that special girl is dead.

  And I’d rather be crazy than lose my daughter.

  Parents aren’t supposed to watch their children die. It’s unnatural. Kids are supposed to bury their parents. Not the other way around.

  In any event, I’m coming. I’ll take the fact that Lindsey didn’t tell me not to as confirmation she wants me to rescue you and Beth.

  I will continue to pray that I find not just you and Beth alive and well, but Lindsey as well.

  I may be selfish in the face of all the people who were lost, but I want my whole family back.

  We planned too well and worked too hard to get ready for this disaster. We deserve to come through it unscathed. If that makes me selfish, then so be it.

  I love you, sweetheart. Whatever the days ahead may hold, whatever I find when I get to Kansas City, whatever the reason it’s so important I take care of those stupid rabbits… I love you. I always have and I always will.

  Chapter 22

  Dave put the journal aside.

  He was feeling melancholy, and… well, a lot of other things as well. His mind was a tangled mess of concern for his family, and fear for what he might find in Kansas City.

  And a little bit of frustration, for not being able to figure out what his daughter was trying to tell him.

  He sat there, in the cab of a Ford Freightliner, tears in his eyes, and not knowing for sure where they came from.

  Suddenly he lashed out, punching the oversized steering wheel hard. Then again and again.

  And, like the tears, he didn’t know where the anger came from either.

  He was a mess. He knew that.

  While he had the drive, and motivation, and even courage it would take to get him to Kansas City, he didn’t have what perhaps he needed the most.

  Answers.

  Dave closed his eyes and asked for help.

  Dear God, it seems I’ve been asking for your help a lot lately. That may not be fair. After all, I haven’t always been as good a person as I should, and there have been times in my life when I’ve strayed from the path of righteousness.

  But I’m at the end of my rope, Lord. I want to believe so much that my family is still alive. My own life is worthless without them.

  I need to know. Is my family still alive? Can I get to them and save them, and bring them back with me? Is that what’s meant to be?

  I’ll be honest with you, Lord. I know you look harshly at those who take their own lives. I know that’s a sin, as much as taking any other life is. I’ve been tempted, several times, but have resisted.

  But you, Lord… You have given me life, and you can darn sure take it away.

  I don’t want to go on living if my family has perished. They are the only thing that gives me hope. All that I go on for. Without them, I have no reason to live.

  Lord, if you have taken my family, please take me as well. Strike me down with a bolt of lightning. Have some evildoer shoot me in the head. I don’t care. Just put me in another place. Put me with my family again. Please, God, if I have done enough good in my life to deserve your mercy, show me by doing that for me.

  If I am alive tonight I’ll go on. I’ll take it as a sign that my family is alive. Or at least some of them are.

  I don’t know what to say. Thanks for listening, Lord, and for considering my request.

  Amen.

  Dave laid his head on the steering wheel for the next twenty minutes.

  He wasn’t sure what he was waiting for, exactly. Perhaps a massive heart attack. Perhaps the brilliant flash of bright light from the cloudless sky, then mer
ciful darkness.

  He hoped he wasn’t taken.

  Not for his own sake, but for his family’s.

  If he was taken, it would mean his family was all dead, and his mission was over.

  And, in his mind, that wouldn’t be fair.

  He’d lived a full life. Yes, he was still a young man. But at least if he was taken, it couldn’t be said that he didn’t get to experience a lifetime of happiness, a lifetime of adventure.

  And, truth be known, the same could be said of his lovely Sarah.

  But his girls, they were a different story altogether.

  They hadn’t yet begun to experience all the joys that made life worth living.

  They had yet to fall in love. They had yet to have a first kiss.

  At least little Beth hadn’t. Dave hoped that Lindsey hadn’t either.

  They had yet to experience the independence of growing up and living on one’s own. The freedom of being able to make their own decisions. The happiness of knowing they’d succeeded. That they’d accomplished something, and smacked down all the haters in their lives who said they’d never amount to much.

  They hadn’t had the chance to have children of their own, and to feel the pride of watching as their babies took their first steps. Walked into kindergarten that very first day, their eyes filled with wonder and their hearts with ambition.

  If they didn’t survive, they’d never be able to grin from ear to ear, to stand and cheer as their children walked across that stage and were handed their diplomas.

  They wouldn’t be able to shed tears of happiness when their babies had babies of their own.

  And it wouldn’t be fair.

  Dave swallowed hard. He knew that life was anything but fair.

  He knew that he was luckier than most. Most families had been wiped out completely. At least he’d been able to survive.

  And if that was the hand he was dealt, if he had to carry on alone, he’d do it.

  If it was just him left, if he had to return to San Antonio alone, he would do so, a broken and soulless man.