by Byron Tucker
Pointing at the city of St Louis on the map, he said, “We hope to hop on the evacuation corridor here and maybe take it as far as Chattanooga before cutting down across Alabama. That should be a fairly safe route, shouldn't it?”
Joe shook his head vigorously. “You need to stay away from anything that the so-called Coalition government is doing. They'll sell you gas, alright, but you'll be exposed to hundreds, if not thousands of starving travelers, who will seek any chance they can to steal your food. You'll not be able to trust the soldiers that you'll encounter either, especially when they see your motorhome loaded with all sorts of goodies. My advice is to stay off the big slab and follow routes that avoids population centers as much as possible.”
Joe paused for a moment to run his finger from their present location in Rhinelander down to Madison. “However, you will get a free pass down to here, as the Wisconsin National Guard is running their weekly escort,and you'll be able to join them downtown at zero eight hundred hours tomorrow morning.”
“We'll be able to trust those guys?”
“Toss them a few MREs and you'll be good to go. Once you get to Madison, I suggest you break off and head southwest over to Dubuque and switch over to Highway 52 south, and follow the river until you hit Interstate 70. There, you'll have to decide if it's better to pick up the big slab there, or keep going by way of two-lane roads.”
Sam stared at the map for a moment and said, “Do you really think it'll be that dangerous?”
The giant turned to look at him with a piercing gaze. “Let me tell you this. Are you prepared to survive, at all costs? Even if it means killing people outright?”
Sam took a quick sip from his beer to stymie the persistent lump in his throat. “Well, I hope it doesn't come to that, but the answer is yes. Me and my family are committed to survival at all costs. I don't think you have any idea of what we've been through already. Whatever we encounter out there, we'll be able to handle it. I have zero doubts about it.”
Big Joe grasped Sam's shoulder with a meaty hand, smiling briefly. “I have confidence in you. I can see it in your eyes. I just want you to know this isn't going to be a nice Sunday drive.”
Sam's mind filled with an image of him running over a horde of staving zombies with the motorhome, refusing to stop for fear of death, which made him shudder. Costa Rica, just focus on Costa Rica. He looked up to see Big Joe pointing to the door as he said, “Let's join the others, shall we?”
Dinner, which was lovingly prepared by Joanna, Joe's talkative and personable wife, was both delicious and filling, which was a good thing to have prior to undertaking the long and dangerous journey south. Everyone seemed to be in a good mood, especially the kids. Joanna was funny and entertaining, regaling the table with all sorts of quirky tales of better times past.
After desserts, Sam noticed Big Joe leaving the table, followed by Ryan and Nora. After encouraging Irene to keep the kids with her to help Joanna with the clean-up, Sam made his way from the house to the barn, where he encountered his brother setting out a half dozen jerry cans of gasoline near the back of the motorhome. Ryan came up to him and pointed to the roof of the vehicle. “Let's get these loaded up top.”
“Where's Big Joe and Nora?” Sam asked.
“They've gone around back to get the portable gas tank, to wheel it in here so we don't have to fill up outside.” Ryan pointed up the access ladder at the back of the motorhome. “Why don't you climb up on top, and I'll just hand them to you.”
Once the last jerry can had been carried up to the roof and stowed with the others in the carrying platform up there, Ryan pulled him aside before he had a chance to climb back down the ladder and said in a low voice, “I went ahead and took care of it.”
“Paying for this?”
“Yes, since I'd rather you have more cash than you need than not enough.”
Sam looked at his brother's face, a wave of unmitigated guilt washing over him. “I don't know what to say, Ryan. You've done so much for me, I haven't a clue how I'll ever repay you. You've always been my big brother, and you're even more of a big brother to me now than you've ever been.”
Ryan grasped Sam's shoulders with his hands, squeezing firmly. “I know you won't believe me, I feel terrible about this. I feel guilty allowing you to leave, as it's going to be incredibly difficult and dangerous. You do know that, don't you, Sam? How risky this is going to be for you and your family?”
“No greater than the certain risk of staying,” Sam replied. “Like I told your friend, I'm prepared to survive at any cost.”
Ryan let out a small chuckle as he moved toward the ladder. “Well, your son is certainly ready to play Mad Max, isn't he?” Before Sam had a chance to answer, Ryan added, “You wish to repay me, right?”
“Of course, I wouldn't ever think otherwise.”
“Live. Get your family to Costa Rica so you and your children can have a future. You do that, then you've repaid me many times over. I mean that.”
Sam smiled, despite the fear of what was to come. “Yes, you have my word on that. We've come way too far to be stopped now.”
They were both distracted by the sound of a large, wheeled tank being pushed into the barn. Once Sam climbed down behind his brother, he watched Big Joe use a hand pump to transfer precious gasoline into the vehicle's fuel tank. When he turned back to look at Ryan, he was shocked to see tears running down his brother's cheeks.
“Ryan, what's the matter?”
Without saying a word, Ryan embraced him tightly. When they finally pulled apart a bit, Ryan said, “It's time to say good-bye. We've imposed on Big Joe enough as it is, and I think it's just easier if we go ahead and take off now.” Ryan looked over at Nora and said, “Get ready to open the door. We head out in two.”
Sam couldn't believe it. Ryan is leaving already? It just didn't make any sense, as he fully expected them to stay overnight with them and part in the morning, when they headed off in separate directions. This must be really hard on him.
Sam struggled to hold back tears of his own as Ryan said good-bye to his towering friend, and then Ryan stepped back over to hug him one more time. “I hate to do this to you bro, but it's just better we do it this way. Give me a shout when you get to Costa Rica, will ya?”
Hardly able to see with his eyes tearing up, Sam stood alongside Big Joe as Ryan started up the Ford F-250 and eased to the doorway. Nora slid it aside and Ryan pulled the truck through, with Nora closing it from the outside.
And then they were gone, the grumble of the truck fading into silence.
A few seconds later, Jimmy came striding into the shop, a questioning expression on his face. “Where's Uncle Ryan and Nora?”
Embarrassed to be crying in front of his son, Sam did his best to compose himself, using his sleeves to dry his cheeks. “He decided it would be best if they went back now.”
“But he didn't say good-bye to us,” Jimmy said. ”I can't believe he'd do that.”
Sam wrapped his arm around Jimmy. “It's okay, Jimmy. It's just really hard on him, and he's scared for us.”
Jimmy looked at him with a slight smile, pointing to himself. ”Well, I'm not scared. Nobody's gonna mess with this bad mo-fo.”
If only I could feel as confident as he does. “Come on, let's go back into the house. I'll tell Mom and Eliza about Uncle Ryan.”
Chapter 25
Sam awoke to the sound of a loud banging on the door of the motorhome. Throwing on a shirt and a pair of jeans, he emerged into the living area, where Jimmy had already opened the door for Big Joe, who turned to look at him and said, “Time to get this baby on the road. The National Guard is getting ready to depart in fifteen minutes. I've radioed the captain and let them know that you wish to convoy with them to Madison.”
Fifteen minutes. Not enough time to even have breakfast. Pointing to the kids, he said, “Get dressed guys. Tell Mom that we're leaving in fifteen.”
Big Joe cleared his throat. “You have some MREs to give out?”
>
Sam pointed to a couple cases nestled under the dinette table. “Yes, we have some right here.”
“Give me a case and I'll give it to the captain.”
Sam stepped over and grabbed one of the cases, which was surprisingly heavy. He wondered if this was a ruse to score a case of MREs for himself, but he was in no position to argue. Once Joe had the case in his arms, he said, “You better get this thing warmed up, since it's sixty below outside. I'll signal you when we're ready to roll. Joanna will handle the door for us, so once we pull out of the barn, we'll go out and turn right and go about two miles. When you see the National Guard trucks, just pull up behind them. Don't get out, as it'll be much too dangerous. Whatever you do, don't turn that engine off. You'll never get it started again.”
Realizing this was probably the last time he would see Big Joe, he reached out to give him a handshake. “I really appreciate you doing this for us.”
The bearded giant grinned. “It's the least I can do. I wish all of you the best of luck, and Godspeed.” He stepped back down to the floor of the barn and shut the door with a decisive thunk.
Jimmy turned to him and said, “This is it, we're really going south?”
He smiled, feeling more excited than scared, at least for the moment. “Yes, we sure are. Care to be my co-pilot?”
“Sure thing. I'll get the maps out.”
Ten minutes later, Sam eased the motorhome out of the barn into the darkness of early morning. A gust of wind shook the vehicle as they left the protection of the barn, and he could feel the cold seeping through the windshield almost instantly. In the passenger seat, Jimmy busied himself with putting on his chaps and heavy boots. It wasn't a look he cared to see on his son, but he did have to admit that it might be appropriate for the situation, going by what he had been told the night before. I sure hope that's a bunch of hyperbole.
Another gust of wind rocked the motorhome. “Man, it's nasty out there,” Jimmy said, finally getting around to putting on his seatbelt. “I bet the wind chill is a hundred below.”
“Well, I don't want to be outside to experience it. One thing's for sure, we're not stopping until we have to fill up with gas. Which should give us about five hundred miles or so if we don't have to plow too much. That'll put us somewhere in southern Illinois.”
“It'll be way warmer down there, won't it?” Jimmy said.
Sam took in a deep breath. “I sure hope so. We wouldn't even be able to pour gas out of the cans at this temperature.”
After a few minutes of approaching the diminutive town center of Rhinelander, Sam spotted Big Joe's truck pulling alongside two military-style trucks, their tailpipes belching copious amounts of white exhaust. Doing what he had been instructed, he pulled up behind the rear vehicle, an M-35 carrier.
A few seconds later, a man bundled up in arctic gear came up to the driver's side window, knocking on the door to indicate that he wanted to talk. Sam slid the upper window aside, the frigid wind hitting his face with a stinging slap. Thankfully the man was concise with his words: “We roll in seven minutes. You will be required to maintain a speed of fifty miles per hour if you wish to accompany us. When you get to Madison, go west on the city beltway until you pick up Highway 151, which will take you to Dubuque. I wish you the best of luck.”
Before he had a chance to reply, the man was already walking away. Glad to be able to shut the window before his eyeballs froze, Sam turned to Jimmy and said, “I sure can't wait to get south. This is some serious cold.”
“Which means we need to keep rolling at all costs,” Jimmy echoed, taking a glance back at his mother and sister sitting on the side couch, huddling under a blanket for warmth.
Eliza called out, “Dad, can't you make it any warmer in here?”
He turned to look at her, relieved to see that she was still in good spirits. “I've got the heat on max. It's just too cold out there, honey. But this is it, we're heading south.”
Jimmy raised his fist into the air. “Southward ho!”
Sam chuckled and repeated the motion. “Southward ho! On to Costa Rica!”
Moments later, the two National Guard trucks began pulling away from the curb, and Sam had to hurriedly undo the parking brake and slam it into drive so he could keep up with them. Since the lead truck had a plow, the road going under the wheels was almost like bare pavement, and it was no trouble at all to maintain fifty miles per hour.
After a few minutes of driving, it slowly brightened into a pale dawn, enabling a view wider than the pair of headlight beams illuminating the truck in front of them.
Everywhere he looked, it was a sea of white, with frozen snowy waves spreading across the landscape. Trees were down all over, as if a hurricane had blown through. He could see no sign of human activity anywhere, which he figured had to be a good sign. If the country was empty, what was to stop them from driving clear to Mobile?
As if Jimmy was reading his mind, he said, “Not too many zombies out here, huh?”
Sam laughed, glad to have this feeling of closeness to his son. “Too damn freaking cold for them.”
“Yeah, it's the kind of cold that turns boiling water to ice instantly, like on the Learning Channel.”
A sudden wave of nostalgia hit him. Cable TV. The comforts of home. Gosh, that seems so long ago. “I wonder if they'll have TV in Costa Rica.”
Jimmy pointed at the bleak whiteness ahead. “Let's see if we can get there first. It looks like we've got a long ways to go.”
Three uneventful hours later, they approached the city of Madison, a decently middle-sized berg before the disaster. However, there was no other traffic other than them, no tell-tell signs of heat exhaust rising from houses and buildings. The National Guard truck in front of them put on its turn signal, slowing as it approached an exit.
“Are we following them, Dad?” Jimmy asked while pulling out one of the gazetteers from under his seat.
“No, we keep going.” He tooted his horn and waved at the soldiers as the two trucks peeled away to the right onto the off-ramp. “I need directions for the beltway and Highway 151 South. There's no need to be stopping unless we have to.”
Jimmy flipped to the appropriate page in the atlas, holding it in his lap. “I agree, Dad, no stopping. I'll keep track where we are on the map and tell you where to go.”
Sam stole a glance at the side couch, where Irene and Eliza were playing her favorite board game, which they hadn't done in a while. So far, so good.
Since the road was no longer freshly plowed, Sam had to drop the blade and slow down to about thirty, although it was nothing like the mountains of snow they had gone through the day before. They reached the exit for the beltway, and took that west, switching over to Highway 151. Despite it being a built-up area, with gas stations, fast food places and shopping plazas, there wasn't a sign of life anywhere, just heaps of snow piled on top of long-abandoned cars. There were no lights, no white streamers coming from furnace exhausts, no movement. If there was anybody still living in Madison, there sure weren't any signs of them.
“Pretty creepy, isn't it?” Jimmy said, pivoting his head left and right like a hawk looking for prey.
“Yes, it is. And I tell you what, I miss having company already. It's pretty clear that we're on our own now.”
Jimmy smiled and pumped his left fist. “But we're gonna do it, Dad. We've got gas, guns and a battle-axe motorhome. Southward ho!”
Despite shouting “Southward ho!” in return, Sam started feeling much less confident than he had before.
He couldn't figure out why, but fear was definitely making a comeback, stronger than ever.
* * *
The house seemed deathly quiet with the absence of Sam's family. It was nice being able to move back into his own bedroom, especially with the added benefit of sharing his bed with a woman he loved, but it still felt like a piece of his heart had been ripped out. Knowing that the odds were stacked against the family made things much more difficult for Ryan. Him telling his brot
her about the dangers he would surely face was one thing, but Sam believing him was another. And if Sam really understood what he would be facing, there would be six people preparing to have supper instead of two.
“Dinner's ready,” Nora called out from the kitchen. Ryan picked himself up from the easy chair, taking a moment to toss a couple pieces of split wood into the stove and giving Shelly a bit of attention. Even she seemed sad at the family being gone.
When he sat down at the table, he looked at the measly section of white rice and beans along with a tiny piece of cheese. “Damn, Nora, you're making me miss Irene's cooking already.”
She sat down across from him with her lips pressed in a grim line. “I know it's just the two of us, but we have to discipline ourselves. You heard what Big Joe said, three years at a bare minimum. Loss of game is already approaching one hundred percent.”
Ryan held up his hand, mentally begging her to stop. “I'm not resisting, just stating what I feel.”
After eating a few bites, Nora looked directly at Ryan and said, “It's a damn good thing you were able to get rid of that family. They'd eaten their way through that cellar in nine or ten months. We'd been doomed.”
Ryan let out a sigh, suddenly a lot less hungry than before. “I just think that while we may have saved ourselves, I just can't shake the feeling I've sent that family to certain death.”
Nora reached out with one of her hands and grasped Ryan's wrist, tugging it toward her. “You didn't send them anywhere, Ryan. They'd gone even if you tried convincing them to stay. So don't be thinking like you've done anything.”
Fear clamped around his chest like a vise. “Be honest with me, Nora. What do you think the chances of them making it to Mobile?”
When she finally answered, she said, “Slim to none, leaning toward none.”
“God, I sure hope you're wrong.”
Nora squeezed a little tighter. “I hope I'm wrong, too. But let's just focus on what the two of us have right here, right now. If they don't make it, at least it won't be in vain, since it's allowing us a chance to survive this.”