by Jay Vielle
“So where’s he taking us?” she asked, jerking her thumb towards the front of the bus.
“Who?” I answered.
“Your boyfriend, who else?” she said.
“Jake? He’s not my boyfriend,” I said. “Not my type. Too macho.”
“Couldn’t tell, the way you’ve been shadowing him lately,” she said. Jake was talking to Estela in Spanish. I could hear his accent improving a little as he went on.
“Look, girl, I’m just being smart,” I said. “Estela said something on the way here that I totally agree with. The safest place to be right now is near El Tejón.”
“El Tejón?” she asked, smiling.
“What’s that?” asked Al.
“The Badger. Estela calls Jake ‘the Badger.’ Says it’s how he looks. And I’m inclined to agree.”
“How so?” asked Maureen.
“She spelled it out. Short, pudgy, walks with a limp, graying at the temples, and though he looks harmless from a distance, it is probably best not to fuck with him.”
Both Al and Maureen laughed at the description.
“She’s right,” said Maureen. “That’s spot on.”
We smiled a bit at the idea of it, then an awkward silence prevailed. Glen and Jada had moved closer behind us so that they could join in. They had been listening from a distance.
“Mr. Fisher killed somebody, didn’t he?” asked Jada.
“Um,” I fumbled a bit. “Well, you see, Jada,” I stammered.
“He killed two people,” said Glen enthusiastically. Then he beat up the other guy. Stuck an arrow in his eye. Dude is bad ass.”
“Don’t talk about it like that,” said Jada. “It’s horrible.”
“Horrible? Those people attacked Tanner’s family. They were gonna kill him. Coach Fisher stopped them.”
“He killed other human beings. How can you defend that?” she asked. “I mean, I like Mr. Fisher and all, but he killed people.” Her voice waivered slightly and a tear started to form in her eye.
“Mr. Reyes,” she said. “Do you think Mr. Kent was right? Do you think Mr. Fisher is dangerous? Do you think we should be riding with him? I mean, actually killing people, that makes him dangerous, right? I don’t know what to think.”
The weight of the last few days’ circumstances were beginning to show on Jada. Anyone who had stayed at the school most likely had nowhere else to go, because they either knew or could guess that their loved ones probably didn’t make it. Otherwise, like the majority of the people who worked or studied at Hunter’s Run, they’d have left right after the bombs started dropping. There were over a thousand teachers and students in that building, but only a tiny amount stayed after. We never had really gotten a chance to discuss it much, but those of us stayed had done so because we really had no other place to go, no one else to lean on, and that building and those people represented something solid. Something stable.
Jada was a fifteen-year-old girl whose world had exploded. She was living with and traveling with virtual strangers. And it was starting to break her down. I moved over and put my arm around her as she started shaking.
“Now, now, chica,” I said reassuringly. “First of all, yes, I think Mr. Fisher is dangerous.”
Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped into an audible gasp.
“And yes, we absolutely should be traveling with him. He is a good man who tries to do right by people. But he is a warrior, Jada. He was a Marine and a world class athlete in a combat sport. He has what it takes to get us through this, and I trust him with my very life.”
I looked up at the long mirror above Jake’s head in the driver’s seat. He was listening in as best he could, and our eyes caught one another as I tried to soothe Jada.
“Jada, don’t believe everything Sr. Reyes says. He’s had a crush on me for years, and it’s probably affecting his judgment right now,” Jake yelled back. Jada laughed out loud. It was an honest smile, and I realized how beautiful a girl she was. Glen Billings couldn’t stop looking at her, and to be honest I had noticed Al had trouble taking his eyes off her as well. If I had been straight, I might have had an eye for her myself. She didn’t look fifteen. Rather more like twenty-five.
Jake slowed up and took a left turn into a long driveway out in the country, about five miles from town. He eased in like he’d done a million times, put the bus in park and turned it off. He opened the doors and got up from the driver’s seat. He had driven home to his farmette.
“What are we stopping for?” I asked.
“A few more supplies,” said Jake. “Some clothes, some paperwork that might help me find the boys, and a couple of cans of diesel fuel for the bus.” He said. “Does anybody want anything? There’s a little food in the pantry we can snag. And I’m going to get Oklahoma.”
“Oklahoma?” Maureen repeated.
“The Broadway show?” I asked. “I love that one. Just love ‘Surrey with the fringe on top,’ you know?” I said.
“Not the musical, you doofus,” said Jake. “My cat. How gay can you get, Eddie?”
“Cat? Why are you bringing the cat?”
“Cause he might die here if I don’t. I have to let him out, and let him take his chances. But it worries me a little. There are a lot of foxes and coyotes around here now. Not super sure that he’ll make it. He’s a smart cat, though, and pretty tough, so I like his chances. He’s gonna ride with us to the barn. He likes people. Don’t hit on him, though, Eddie. He’s straight.”
I shook my head. As Jake disembarked and headed inside, Glen Billings went outside and around the corner in an obvious mission to urinate.
“Boys are so gross,” said Maureen. Jada agreed.
“Miss Kelly,” said Jada. “Where are you from? You’re not from around here, are you?”
“Long Island,” she said. “I’m a native New Yorker. You can probably tell a little from my accent,” she said. Jada nodded.
“How’d you get to Emmitsburg, Maryland?”
“My ex-husband,” said Maureen. “He’s a linguistic contractor at Fort Detrick. He helps them with translations in Spanish.”
“How come you got divorced?” she asked.
“Jada,” I said. “That’s kind of a personal question.”
“No, it’s alright,” said Maureen. I met him when I was studying abroad in Puerto Rico. He’s Dominican. He was really handsome, and a phenomenal baseball player. He got drafted and played in the minor leagues for a few years here with the Frederick Keys. We moved here and got a small apartment, and I got a teaching job to help us make ends meet. But after about seven years here, he realized he wasn’t going to get called up to the majors, so he started looking for other means of employment. He was a linguistics major, like me. One of the coaches’ wives worked at Fort Detrick and mentioned an opening, and he applied. We ended up staying right here in the area.”
“So what happened? You sounded so happy,” she said.
“We were for a while. But I wanted kids, and he said he didn’t. He kept stalling, and we started drifting apart. He started drinking. It changed him.”
Maureen hesitated for a moment and swallowed hard. I put my arm on her shoulder.
“Turns out, he already had a kid with one of the secretaries that he’d been screwing the whole time and didn’t tell me,” she said. Al bit his lip and looked at Maureen sympathetically.
“I’m sorry,” said Jada. “I shouldn’t have.”
“It’s no secret, chica,” said Maureen. “Most men are shit. Some are decent. But the majority of them? Shit. I got me one of the shitty ones.”
Glen Billings walked around to the side of the bus, lifted up one of the lower compartments, and put two heavy plastic fuel cans full of diesel fuel, then climbed the steps. He looked at Maureen and Jada, who both looked a little sorry they’d ventured into Maureen’s marriage history, then looked at Al and me, who obviously were as uncomfortable as the girls.
“What?” said Glen. “What’s up?”
After
a moment, Al piped up. “It just occurred to me, Glen, that you and I may be the only people on this bus who don’t speak Spanish.”
“But Mr. D—I took Spanish with Ms. Kelly,” he said. Maureen smiled wide and shook her head.
“As I recall Glen, what Mr. DeFillipo said is accurate,” she chuckled. “That C you got was an early Christmas gift,” she said smiling. “Feliz Navidad.” Glen smiled back.
Just then Jake got on board with a bag strapped to his back and one more duffle in each hand. One of the duffel bags seemed to be moving. Just then, a head popped out and a small, orange, tabby cat popped its head out of one of the bags, pushing the zipper open with its neck, and meowing. Everyone laughed at what was apparently Oklahoma—our newest travel companion on the magical bus.
“Aw, nice kitty,” said Jada, and she reached out and stroked Oklahoma on his forehead. The cat responded with instant purring, closed its eyes, and rubbed up against Jada’s hand even more.
“Okie is an attention whore,” said Jake. “He’ll fit in great with you all. He’s got you suckered already.”
“Attention whore, huh? Wonder where he learned that from,” I said. Jake cut his eyes at me.
“Probably from his Auntie Eduardo,” said Jake. I gave him the finger.
“Okie isn’t making the whole trip with us, though. I’m going to take him to the barn. It’ll be a place where he can get shelter, be free to wander, and I can give him about a week’s worth of food if the other critters don’t get into it.” Okie walked over to my lap and nuzzled me.
“Aw. I’d love to take you with us, Okie,” I said. “But God knows where we’re going or what we’ll find.”
“Anybody need to hit the bathroom?” Jake asked. “Get a drink? If not, it’s all aboard and full steam ahead.”
“Mr. Fisher,” Jada said. “Glen peed outside in your yard.”
“Every man’s God-given right. Well done, lad,” Jake said. Jada laughed and rolled her eyes.
Nobody else needed to go, so Jake clapped and sat back in the driver’s seat. Estela grabbed the cat gently and placed him on her lap. She hugged him and stroked him almost desperately. It reminded me again of how each of us had lost everything, and were all struggling just to keep sane. Jake cranked the engine, did an awkward five-point turn in his driveway, and headed off down a back dirt road to an old barn on the edge of the woods on his property. He carried Okie to the barn along with a large sack of cat food. He put the food in a bowl and Okie went after it. Jake stood up, then took a long look at the field and stream behind his house, and sighed.
The view was beautiful. Two streams crossed the property and joined at its edge. One meandered through a woods, the other ran alongside a meadow. Jake’s house was on the top of a hill where he could look at all of it. A horse farm was next door, so there were fields as far as the eye could see. Wildflowers bloomed in the meadow. Birds were everywhere. Jake took a breath.
“Love this place,” he said. “Hope to see her again. Okie: you’re in charge while I’m gone, boy.”
And off we went. We had driven about five miles in the country, and I shouted to Jake.
“So where are we going again?”
“Shenandoah Valley, Virginia. My sons, Tommy and Vinny are at college, and I’m going to find them and bring them back.”
“What schools are they in?” asked Maureen.
“Virginia Military Institute and Virginia Tech. Both are on wrestling scholarships. Got a text from Tommy. It said the area had not felt any direct effects of the bombing. Hoping they’re okay.”
“Which Route are we taking?” she asked.
“Figured we’d better stay as far away from DC as possible. Lot of the bombs exploded directly above. Any radiation will be lingering there for a while.”
“So, taking I-81 south?” she asked.
“Yeah. That was my thought. Pretty much a straight shot all the way. You travel down there a lot?”
“Used to go that way when my husband played ball. Nashville and Memphis, sometimes Jackson. It’s a beautiful highway for an interstate.”
“It should also keep us far enough away from DC to make me feel better,” said Jake.
“You know, Jake,” said Al. “I’m actually shocked that we made out as well as we did, living in Emmitsburg. Fort Detrick is only twenty miles down the road and definitely was a tactical target. It’s been the home of biological and chemical weapons testing since the 1940’s. They focus mostly on defense, now, but it’s still gotta be a main target for an enemy. I’m surprised we all made it through.”
“Yeah. No question that Fort Detrick and even Camp David are prime targets, and Emmitsburg is less than a half hour from both of them. The city of Frederick is so close to D.C. that it makes me real uncomfortable about what we might run into on this journey of ours. Without any broadcasts, we don’t know what areas are safe, what ones aren’t. It’s a bit of a crapshoot right now. Anybody have any internet?”
“Nothing new,” Glen said. “And it goes in and out sometimes.”
“I have been checking regularly. If anything changes, I’ll let you know. Jake, have you thought of trying the C.B.?”
Jake’s face responded with some recognition and surprise. Maureen’s did too. I was confused.
“What’s a C.B.?” I asked.
“I forget how young you are sometimes,” Jake said. “Citizens’ Band radio. It’s what truckers use to communicate on the road. Really just a walkie-talkie with a bunch of channels that lots of people monitor, including the police. Good thinking Al! Don’t know why I didn’t think of that myself.”
“You been slightly distracted,” said Maureen. “Think we’ll give you a pass on that.”
Jake reached down and grabbed the knob and twisted it on. Static was the only sound that came out. He changed channels, stopping for a few seconds on each one. Nothing. Then he went to Channel 19. That’s the one where all of the chatter usually is. Static. Jake furrowed his brow.
“Nothing. That’s surprising. How can nobody be on the road and nobody be on the radio?”
The bus meandered down the Route 15 from Emmitsburg, Maryland—on the northernmost border between Carroll County, Frederick County, and the Pennsylvania state line—towards the small town of Thurmont, home of Mt. St. Michael’s College, Catoctin Mountain State Park, and Camp David—the presidential hideaway. The rolling farmland was rife with small streams, with the blue-grey Catoctins looming in the background.
“God this place is gorgeous. I never get tired of riding through here,” said Jake.
The road ran through Mt. St. Michael’s University, a small Catholic college near Thurmont. The grey stone buildings loomed on both sides of the highway. Jake looked anxiously at the campus, no doubt thinking of his boys.
“There are some people over there,” I said. “They look like students. Should we check in?”
I knew Jake wanted to stay on track, but we really had no idea about anything in the world outside Hunter’s Run High School. Jake slowed down the bus and pulled in towards a group of twenty-somethings playing frisbee on the lawn.
“How you guys doing?” said Jake. A blonde, tan kid with some facial hair and a headband walked over.
“We’re cool, dude. Who are you guys?”
“Bunch of teachers from down the road at the high school. Just checking on what things are looking like. Are you guys the only ones here?” asked Jake.
“Yeah. Most of the other folks decided to ride home. Most of us are from too far away. Flights were grounded a few days ago. I’m from California. Those guys are from the Midwest. A couple of them are exchange students.”
“Is the school open?” I asked, leaning out the window and looking around for any other signs of life.
“Not officially. But the dean of students lives here on campus, and said they’d run like a skeleton crew to make sure we got fed until we could make plans to try and get home.”
“How many of you are there?” asked Jake.
; “About thirty or forty. Most of the guys who needed rides just found them. Hooked up with other folks riding home. The flyers are the ones mostly here.”
“You guys have power?” Jake asked.
“On and off. I think they use the generator for making dinner and recharging stuff,” he said.
“Just dinner, huh?”
“Yeah. They give us like cereal and stuff for breakfast. Sandwiches for lunch. Then they have a hot dinner and let us plug in our phones.”
“You all got any signal? Have you had much luck with phones or internet?” Jake said.
“Some of us have no trouble talking to family. Others got nothing. We pass messages, try to get somebody else’s folks to try and contact ours if we haven’t had any luck. Internet’s down. It’s weird, some sites are fine, but nothing new is added. Most stuff just doesn’t show. Our server hasn’t worked since the first bombs, but sometimes we’ll see something on our phones. Nothing useful though. It sucks.”
“Yeah. It does indeed suck. Well, thanks for the info,” said Jake. “Good luck to you guys.”
“You too, man,” said the student. Jake closed the bus doors, and we pulled back out onto the highway.
“That’s gotta be encouraging, right?” I asked. “Colleges looking out after their students. I mean, for your sons. That’s gotta be encouraging.”
“Mt. St. Michael’s is fairly small, more personal. Tommy should be okay at VMI. Hell, he should be thriving there, the way they roll. I’m more concerned for Vinny. He’s at Virginia Tech. That place is like a city. No telling what things are like there.”
I thought about that for a minute. Cities. Mass amounts of people sharing resources. In cities, order depends completely on things working. Sanitation, law enforcement, power, water. When the basics break down, things start to go awry. People start to take when they need, and later take what they want. And when those things belong to other people, folks start preying on each other. Jake had seen that first-hand overseas. I had even seen it once myself traveling abroad I hoped Jake’s son would be okay in Blacksburg.