Winter Fall

by Byron Tucker

  Ryan began to choke up. In two days, he would be saying good-bye to his brother and his family, possibly forever. And it sure wasn't going to be easy by any stretch of the imagination. To keep from breaking down into a mess of tears, he took in a deep breath and said, “Let's talk about how you're going to get your family to Mobile.”

  Sam laughed and said, “I'll just put the cruise on at sixty and head south.”

  “If only if it were that easy. The thing you're going to have to determine if it's safer to take the Interstates or not. I've mapped out several routes that you can use to get to your destination. I'd advise you study those carefully before we leave tomorrow. I'm also giving you my gazetteer atlases for the states you'll be passing through so you can figure out how to get around blocked sections of road and so forth.”

  “I'll have Jimmy to assist me with that, since he's pretty good with maps.”

  “Yes, so that's a plus. Another thing you need to be aware of is the extreme cold. If you're forced to stop somewhere for any length of time, you'd better find a place to plug in the heater block or stick it some place warm, like a garage. My advice is to keep moving until you get below the zero degree line, which is probably somewhere at the latitude of St Louis.”

  Sam looked at him with a curious expression. “How cold do you think Mobile will be?”

  “According to the shortwave, it's staying below freezing even down there. Plenty of snow, even down into Florida.”

  “Let's hope the ship that's taking us to Costa Rica doesn't get frozen in.”

  Let's add that to the pile of things to worry about. “Um, yes, let's hope. Hopefully it'll be a while before the water freezes down there.”

  “The idea is to keep that engine running so we don't get stuck not being able to start it.”

  Ryan exhaled slowly. “Exactly, and to keep you and your family from turning into icicles. This is some extremely dangerous cold you'll be traveling through. That's why I advise you to switch off the driving with Irene or Jimmy to keep the motorhome moving, at least for the first half of the trip. When you get farther south, like Kentucky or Tennessee, you'll probably be able to relax a bit.”

  “I doubt I'll be able to relax at all until we've arrived at your friend's ranch in Costa Rica.”

  Ryan looked at Sam with a deadpan stare. “It's not hard to see why. I just hope you're aware of the tremendous risks you'll be taking.”

  Sam continued to hold his brother's gaze as he said, “Don't worry, brother. I'll get my family down there. We've survived everything that's happened so far, so whatever we face, we'll find a way to deal with it.”

  It's a good thing Sam has so much confidence, as I sure don't. Pointing to the piles of cash and metal on the table, Ryan said, “Let's find a safe place to store this loot, and then I'll have Jimmy and Nora finish loading up.”

  Sam stood up, looking around at the close confines of the motorhome. “It's hard to believe that we'll be taking the motorhome out on the road again tomorrow. It seems like a lifetime ago since I last drove this thing.”

  Ryan stood up as well. “It does seem that way, doesn't it?” After a brief pause during which he stood next to his brother, he added, “I'll certainly be praying for your safe arrival.”

  Sam looked at him with a look of mild surprise. “I didn't think you were religious.”

  Ryan smiled. “I'm not, but I'll be a-prayin' just the same. You need all the help you can get, and then some.”

  Sam grinned in return. “I appreciate that, Ryan. I want to make sure you know that I have a very good feeling about this. I really do.”

  I sure hope he's right. “That's wonderful, Sam, since it's important to manifest the end result so you can actually achieve it. I have a good feeling about this too.”

  On instinct, they hugged each other tightly, not letting go for quite some time.

  Part 3

  The Escape

  Jimmy's Journal Entry, December 17th, 2019

  Well, this is it. We're finally on our way to Costa Rica. I can scarcely believe it myself. We're embarking on a journey that's three thousand miles by land and by sea, but damn, we're actually doing it. As I write at this very moment, we are on the road, fifty miles from Uncle Ryan's place, on our way to Rhinelander, which is about eighty miles from where we are right now. Actually, this is supposed to be like a test run, to make sure that the plow works okay and the engine is able to withstand the cold. It's fifty below outside, but we're doing good so far. Uncle Ryan and Nora are taking point in the pickup for right now, plowing the snow ahead of us, but we'll switch places for the last part of this leg to see how the plow on the motorhome works. But yeah, I'm really excited about this, and so is everybody else. Dad's back on top again, Mom is doing okay, she's just real nervous about all the guns we have on board, and Eliza's really excited too. Hell, I'd be excited too, about having a chance to get the meds I needed to be able to live. She's such a strong, brave girl to be staring death in the face like that and still keep a cheerful attitude.

  So yeah, the game plan is this: We're supposed to stay overnight at Big Joe's, and hopefully get more gas from him, and then we'll hit the road south first thing tomorrow morning, and just keep driving as long as we can, so we can get to where it's not so goddammed cold. Nobody knows what we'll run into on the way down there, except there may be an “evacuation corridor” we might be able to travel on for part of the way. That'd be especially good if we can get more gas along one of those too. Needless to say, it's fingernail-biting time, as it's going to be a hell of a trip to get this thing all the way to Mobile. From Rhinelander, it's something like 1200 miles, so it's a really long ways away. Ryan thinks we'll be driving a lot more miles than that, since we'll probably have to make tons of detours. I sure hope he's wrong about that, as we need to get to Mobile ASAP, so we can get on that boat to Costa Rica. If we're not there in time before that ship sails, it'd just be like the expression – we won't get another chance. At least we've got ourselves a week from tomorrow to make it there, that'd be like traveling 175 miles a day at that pace. So I'm not too worried about us not having enough time. It's really all about being able to get gas at some point and getting past highway robbers.

  I imagine we'll get attacked at least some along the way, but me personally, I'll be ready for them. Uncle Ryan let me have his awesome AR-15, the one with the laser scope, and he let me shoot it a couple times last week. I didn't accept it at first, but he really wanted me to have it, and he thinks I'll need to use it against attackers. I'll just stick that thing out one of the portholes we've made in the side windows and blast away, take them zombies right out of the picture. I'll just tell Dad to do the drivin', and I'll do the shootin'. Mom and Eliza can just hide out in the back. One's thing for sure, we're not gonna let anybody stop us from getting to Mobile, even if it means leaving a trail of bodies from Wisconsin to Alabama. We're the Durants, and we're survivors. Damn right. I think I'll go ahead and put on the motorcycle leathers to wear on the way down, I don't care what Mom and Dad think, as I need to not only be a bad-ass, I need to look the part too. It's too bad that Uncle Ryan wouldn't let me paint a shark's mouth on the front of the plow, he said it'd just wear off anyhow. That's okay, as they're still gonna be afraid of us, as we're certainly not gonna be afraid of them.

  I gotta wrap it up, as we're stopping for some reason, I need to see what it is. I'll write again when I've got time later.

  Chapter 24

  Sam watched the plow bite into the snow and shove it aside, the engine in the back struggling just a bit harder than before. He kept the speedometer between twenty-five and thirty, trolling close to the center of the highway as he had been instructed. The snow cover varied from a foot to over three feet deep, but even at those greater depths, the big snowplow seemed to do the job just fine, hurling a hefty curve of snow off to the right side.

  Irene, sitting in the front passenger seat, turned to look at him. While she still wore a nervous expression, she seemed a little bi
t more relaxed than before. “It looks like the plow is working well, Sam.”

  Sam pressed down on the gas to keep the speed above twenty-five. “Well, it's slow going, and I know this is eating up a lot of fuel, but you're right, it is working well. I just have to hope we encounter some recently-plowed roads along the way.”

  Irene smiled at him. “Oh, I'm sure we will, once we get on the evacuation corridor. That's in Missouri, right?”

  “Hopefully Big Joe will know something about what to expect. But like my brother says, even at two hundred miles a day, that's eight hours of traveling the speed we're at right now, we'll still make it in time. I certainly don't plan to stop after eight hours, either.” He cocked his head back for a second. “What's Jimmy doing back there?”

  Irene turned to look. “I don't know. I don't see him. Want me to check in the back?”

  “No, I was just curious. I just thought he'd be interested in seeing how this plow works.”

  The motorhome shuddered through a particularly high snowdrift, but then they hit a shallow spot, causing the vehicle to surge ahead before hitting another sizable drift. Thankfully, it smoothed out a bit, enabling him to loosen the iron grip he had on the steering wheel.

  The sound of Jimmy's voice came from the back somewhere. “What's going on up there, Dad?”

  “Come up and find out for yourself.”

  A few seconds later, Jimmy stumbled up to the front, clad in Ryan's motorcycle leathers. Doing a bit of a double take, Sam asked, “What in the hell did you put all that on for?”

  Before Jimmy had a chance to answer, Irene got up and waved Jimmy to sit in her place. “You ride up front with Dad so you two can discuss boy stuff.”

  Jimmy laughed as he sat in the seat, pulling the seatbelt around him. “I figured I'd better look the part.”

  Sam looked ahead as they shuddered through another big drift. “What do you mean, look the part?”

  “The part of being a bad-ass, that's what. We've gotta look tough and mean for when we come across highway robbers.”

  Sam pointed ahead at the snow-drowned landscape and said, “In this kind of weather, I don't think we'll have to worry about highway robbers.”

  “I still wanna wear this,” Jimmy said, staring intensely at the snow being slung off to the side.

  Sam was in no mood to argue. “Fine, stick with that, then. I just want you to get out of this Rambo mindset, thinking we're going to be shooting our way to Alabama. I really don't think it'll come to that.”

  Jimmy shrugged his shoulders as he continued to look out the front. His eyes lit up a few seconds later when he spotted a Wisconsin state line welcome sign. “Yay! We're in Wisconsin!”

  The CB radio crackled. “How about that, Sam, we're in Wisconsin.”

  Sam picked up the portable handset and pressed the talk button. “Yeah, my son caught that. It's not much farther, is it?”

  “About forty-three miles. How ya doing with that plow?”

  “Amazingly well, actually. The engine doesn't seem to be struggling at all.”

  “The momentum of your vehicle sure helps with those drifts, I see. I'm feeling better about this by the minute.”

  “Me too. I think we all are. Just give me a shout when we're about to hit Big Joe's place.”

  “I sure will, bro. Over and out.”

  Since the snow seemed to be a bit thinner, with fewer drifts, Sam nudged the speed up to thirty-five, wanting to complete this first leg as quickly as he could. If they could get gas right away, perhaps they could just keep going, and not bother with overnighting at Big Joe's place. He planned to defer to his brother, however, since the guy was his friend. The important thing was getting that extra gas.

  Jimmy pointed up the dark gray sky. “Two in the afternoon, and it looks like it's about to be nighttime.”

  “It's the volcanic ash blocking the sunlight.”

  “Yeah, I know that, but it's just so spooky. Like having a perpetual night, almost.”

  “Hopefully it'll not be so bad further south, with the sun angle being higher.”

  Jimmy continued to stare ahead, his long hair pulled back by the leather band he had tied around his forehead. “Well, we just gotta get down to Costa Rica. Even Florida's gonna get frozen out.”

  All those people flooding down there to escape the cold, only to have it follow them. It was a grim thought of the type he needed to be avoiding. Just like the possibility of highway bandits. A stealthy chill ran down his spine as he realized they had a long, dangerous journey ahead, fraught with risks he didn't even dream of. Snap out of it, Sam. You've got to be the father of this family. He looked over at his son with a wistful expression. If there was one person in this family who had an idea of what to expect, it was him.

  About five miles out, Ryan called for a stop and a vehicle switch so he could lead the motorhome to his friend's residence, located just outside the town limits of Rhinelander. After a few minutes of leading the way with his truck, Ryan led him onto a small plot of land onto a plowed driveway, with a good-sized barn just ahead. A huge man swaddled in heavy winter gear pushed a large door to the side, frantically waving both Ryan's truck and the motorhome into the cavernous, brightly-illuminated interior.

  Sam put the vehicle into park and just before he shut the ignition, the radio blared with Ryan's voice. “Welcome to Big Joe's place. Come on out, he's got this place nice and toasty for us.”

  After exiting the motorhome, Big Joe lumbered up to Sam like a towering grizzly bear, extending an oversized paw toward him. Despite his great size, he seemed friendly enough as he introduced himself. “I'm Big Joe. Pleased to have you here as my guest.”

  “How are you heating this place?” Jimmy said, waving his arms around. “It must be seventy degrees in here.”

  Big Joe laughed. “We've still got natural gas service here in Rhinelander. I don't know for how long, but we've got it. No juice, however, but we've got the natural gas generator, so feel free to hook in for the night.”

  I guess the decision's been made. “I'm certainly grateful for that.”

  The huge man chuckled as he began to undo his thick overcoat. “You probably want some gas, too.”

  “Of course, as much as you can spare,” Sam said.

  Big Joe cocked his bearded head to the side, his eyes twinkling in an odd way. “It'll cost ya.”

  Suddenly getting the feeling he needed practice in negotiating, he said, “Name a price and I'll see if I can meet it.”

  “You got cash?”

  Sam shrugged his shoulders, hoping his nervousness wasn't showing. “A bit, yes.”

  “One hundred dollars a gallon. If you want the cans, it'll be an extra hundred per can. I have a total of six cans, already filled, to spare.”

  Ryan stepped into the fray, smiling. “We'll be glad to take it. Fill the tank of the RV to the brim, and put all six cans out, we'll load them on top.”

  Sam performed some calculations in his head. Assuming that they'd burned twenty gallons or so thus far, plus another thirty gallons in the jerry cans, for a total of fifty gallons – that came to five thousand dollars, plus the extra six hundred for the cans. If this isn't highway robbery, I don't know what is. Then he realized that he had over thirty thousand in cash tucked under the driver's seat in the motorhome, so what was five or six grand? The man had gas, he had money. The end result was that they were starting the next leg with a total of one hundred fifty gallons.

  Big Joe waved to him and the others to follow him inside his house, where he introduced his wife around to everybody. “You guys make yourself feel at home, as we've been starving for company. Sam, you care for a beer?”

  A beer. He honestly could not remember the last time he'd had one. Unable to resist, he said, “Sure, I'd appreciate it.”

  A few moments later, with Big Joe's cheerful wife entertaining the rest of his family, the hulking man waved him off to the side of the kitchen. Speaking in a low whisper, he asked, “Got a minute?”

&
nbsp; Realizing that he wished to speak with him alone, he nodded.

  “Come with me, Sam.”

  Sam followed Big Joe down a long hallway to a dimly-lit room at the end. The room consisted of several workstations, with multiple computer monitors and a ham radio set like his brother had in the shop. Once they were both inside, Joe closed the door behind them and pointed to a huge wall map of the United States off to the right.

  While Sam studied the large-scale map, Joe said, “Before I take you to the cleaners selling you my gas, I want you to at least have an idea of what you're getting into.”

  Sam turned from the map to look up at Big Joe. “I don't know how much Ryan's told you, but we have no choice but to get down there, and on to Costa Rica. Our daughter will die if she doesn't get her medicines.”

  Big Joe turned to point at the map with a thick finger. “Yes, I was aware of that, and I'm not expecting you to change your mind about going. I just want to give you some idea of what you can expect, and how difficult it will be for you to get to Mobile.”

  His throat suddenly dry, Sam recalled he still had a beer in his hand, and he took a swig from it. “Well, you've seen what the motorhome looks like, and the plow works beautifully. We also have a number of guns with us for defense, if necessary.”

  The mountainous man nodded slowly and said, “Yes, you will be needing those guns. I don't think you have any idea of how bad it is out there.”

  “Even down south?”

  “Especially down south. Most people haven't frozen to death down there, but they sure as hell are starving. They see anyone that might have a slice of bread on them, they're going to do what they can to take it from you.”

  Sam thought of Jimmy and how he was dressed, talking about taking out “zombies” from the window portholes. I really hope it doesn't come to that.