Wandering Highway: A Desperate Journey Home

by Ike Warren

  As the wagon drove forward Allan began to notice that the stalled cars that they passed weren’t in tangled ruins blocking the roadway like most of the cars that they had walked past in Dallas. He figured that was due to the fact that the traffic wasn’t as thick in the rural countryside and so the drivers were more easily able to pull off to the side of the road. The open roads made driving the wagon train easier for Henry and he called out to the horses to pick up their speed. Allan remembered thinking back in Dallas how he hoped that there were old cars being used as busses out there, but there were no signs of anything of the sort except for Henry’s covered wagon.

  “These assholes give me trouble every time I come through here.” Henry said as they approached the overpass that ran across Farm Market Road 1903.

  “Who gives you trouble?” Allan asked.

  “All the stranded truck drivers at the big Pilot truck stop up here on the right hand side of the road.”

  Allan rose and stood inside the wagon and saw the big red and yellow Pilot sign towering over the Interstate. Below the sign were the charred remains of what was once a convenience store with a McDonald’s restaurant attached to one side. The burnt ruins looked like they had been leveled by a bulldozer and then painted over with black paint. Out front, under the big awning that covered the gas pumps sat abandoned cars still waiting to be filled with fuel that they could no longer use. Some of the cars had the gas nozzles still sticking out of their sides from where the owners of the cars abandoned them immediately after the blast. One car had its windshield wipers pried back where the owner had started to clean the windshield and then apparently given up once the world went crazy around him.

  “You see, all these truckers who had stopped here at the Pilot to take their mandatory rest hours ended up stranded hundreds, some of them thousands of miles from home.” Henry said. “One asshole wanted me to drive him, by wagon, all the way to god-damn California. Can you believe that?”

  “They must be pretty desperate.”

  “That’s one adjective that would describe them. I’d also add vile, despicable, dirty, worthless pieces of shit.” Henry glanced at Jennifer. “Pardon my language mam.”

  “Sounds like you’ve got a pretty strong opinion of truck drivers.” Allan said.

  “Not all truck drivers. Just those there at the Pilot right there. Ever heard of lot lizards?”

  “No, what’s that?”

  “A lot lizard is a whore who does her business at truck stops. They’ll go from one truck to the next, offering the driver’s a good time and in one night she can make five hundred dollars or more easy. Five hundred damn dollars a night! Can you believe that?” Henry shook his head. “Well the second day I was passing through here and a couple of old gals come running up to my wagon screaming. These women were naked and so dirty I could barely tell if they were white, Mexican, or black. Their hair was cut like someone had taken a pair of scissors and chopped off their hair angry-like and they had dried stains of blood running down their legs.”

  “Henry, maybe these good folks don’t want to hear this.” Luanne interrupted with a smile.

  “They need to hear this. They need to know what it’s like out there.” Henry replied. “Anyways, as I was saying, these gals come running up to me screaming, asking for a ride. I was just about to tell them to get in the wagon when all of a sudden a group of guys come running up behind them, grab them both by their waists, and drug them back towards the truck stop.”

  “You didn’t try to stop them?” Allan asked.

  “There were about ten men in the group. By the time I realized what was going on they already had the girls on the other side of the highway. That’s when I started making Luanne ride shotgun next to me so she can help me keep an eye on the road.”

  Allan turned to Jennifer and sighed. “That’s awful.”

  He turned back to watch the road and Allan saw something move along the grassy area at the top of the overpass. “Henry there is someone…”

  As Allan was in the process of warning Henry the figure of a man stood up and jumped over the guard rail and stood in front of the wagon, blocking its path. The man was wearing a pair of dirty brown overalls and a dingy t-shirt underneath. On his head sat a cowboy hat that cast a shadow that blacked out his entire face except for a thick black goatee that protruded out from his chin. Slung across his chest was a shotgun with five extra shells tucked into a sleeve that was situated around the buttstock.

  “Hello the wagon.” The man said. “I need a ride to Louisiana. I see that you’re heading eastwardly in that direction and you’ve got just the equipment to get me there.”

  “You’re out of your mind if you think I’m taking you all the way to god-damn Louisiana. Step aside or I’ll run you down.” Henry warned.

  The man raised the shotgun to his shoulder and pointed it at Henry. “You even think about it and I’ll blow your face into the laps of your passengers back there.”

  Something about the man’s tone must have frightened Henry because he let go of the reins and placed his hands in the air.

  “Now don’t shoot mister. There’s no reason to get hostile.”

  “Oh this ain’t hostile. This is me being nice. This is me telling you that you have two options. Option one is to give me a ride to Louisiana and option two is to get off the fucking wagon and I’ll take myself to Louisiana. The point is, this wagon is going with me to Louisiana.” The man gave them an evil grin.

  Suddenly the man’s left shoulder exploded into a mist of blood and bone fragments as a thunderous explosion erupted from Luanne’s shotgun. A brief expression of disbelief crossed the man’s face before it turned pale white and his body dropped lifeless onto the pavement.

  “Oh dear, did I get him?” Luanne asked with concern in her voice. “I think I had my eyes closed.”

  “You got him darling!” Henry yelled and he gave the rains a loud crack followed by a deafening whistle. It felt like the wagon leapt two feet in the air as the horses took off into a full gallop. Allan and Jennifer slid down almost the entire length of the wooden benches inside the wagon before they were able to catch themselves at the last moment before they careened out the back.

  “Hold on, we gotta get out of here.” Henry said as the sound of gunshots could be heard erupting from behind them as more truckers from the truck stop joined the fight. The unmistakable whizzing sound of bullets zipping by pierced the air and everyone in the wagon ducked down just as a couple of well-aimed rounds struck the wooden struts of the canvas tarp and rained splintered shrapnel down into the wagon.

  The baby was crying and Jennifer tried to calm him down by rocking him in her arms but the wagon was shaking too violently with every bump and pothole in the road.

  Luanne turned and asked a series of rapid questions. "Are you folks ok? Is the baby ok? Are any of you hurt?"

  She was practically yelling as she spoke over the roar of the wagon as the wooden wheels churned against the road. Allan and Jennifer, still in a state of shock at what they had just witnessed, looked over themselves and then at each other before nodding their heads to Luanne to reassure her that they were all ok.

  "I'm so sorry you had to see that." Luanne apologized. "Henry and I decided on a key word to use if things went badly. If Henry ever says the word Hostile that means we’re in bad trouble."

  "We can't do this anymore. It's getting too dangerous out here. Those truckers will be looking for revenge if any of them ever see this wagon again." Henry said and then he shot an angry look back over his shoulder. "Too bad our last trip was with a couple of free loaders."

  "You pipe down Henry." Luanne barked and then she turned to face Allan and Jennifer. "We're very happy to have you with us. I just hope this experience hasn't been too traumatic for either of your or for the baby."

  After a couple of miles the wagon’s speed slowed and the roar of the wheels lessened and the wagon’s occupants were able to talk without yelling at one another.

  "Where do
you folks live?" Allan asked.

  "I don't think that's any of your damn business." Henry replied.

  "Now don't be crass." Luanne corrected Henry with a slap on his shoulder. "We live in Campbell just off the Interstate. We'll drop you off in Greenville or if you'd like you can come stay with us."

  "God-dammit Luanne. You can't just offer up our house to a couple of strangers without talking to me about it first." Henry interjected.

  "You sit quiet you stubborn old goat. It's my house and I have every right to invite anyone that I please to come live with us. Lord knows they'd be better company than you."

  "Pardon my interruption but you can just drop us off when we get to Greenville. We have to get back to our daughter." Jennifer said

  Luanne turned to them and smiled. "Well when you two reunite with your daughter, please come over for a visit will yall?" Luanne said.

  Chapter 22: Frantic Cries

  Henry drove the horses hard for a couple of hours but by the time they reached Greenville they had become exhausted and their gallop had turned once again into slow lumbering strides. Allan and Jennifer peeked around the side of the wagon cover and saw that the Wal-Mart and the Home Depot on the right side of the interstate in Greenville had been burned and only the hollow facades of their stone exteriors remained. On the other side of the interstate the Walgreens and Crossroad Mall had suffered similar fates.

  "Well we're in Greenville. I don't want to get off the highway. Too hard to navigate around in the city and too dangerous. Where do you want me to drop you off?"

  Allan looked at Jennifer. "Well your mom lives near downtown. He could drop us off here and we could walk through town or…"

  "Keep going and drop us off after you pass the Sabine River." Jennifer interrupted and then she turned to Allan. "There aren't many houses on the east side of Greenville coming into town through Lee Street. Fewer houses mean less people which will hopefully mean fewer obstacles."

  "Good thinking." Allan said.

  They peered around the side of the wagon cover again and observed the remains of what was left of their hometown. They were shocked to see the same scenario that they saw back in Rockwall had also played out in Greenville. On both sides of the interstate homes and businesses had been burnt to the ground and they prayed that the whole town had not succumbed to the same violence and horrors that they had seen around Dallas.

  After they passed the long interstate bridges of the Sabine River they made it to the exit ramp of the Lee street overpass and Henry pulled on the reins to bring the wagon to a stop. Henry slid a lever beside him to set the parking brake on the driver’s side wagon wheel and then he hopped off the platform and waited to assist his passengers to the ground.

  As Allan was stepping off the wagon he felt a hand touch his arm. It was Luanne and he saw that she was crying. "Will you give me a hug goodbye?"

  "Of course." He replied and he leaned down to hug the woman and as he did he gave Jennifer a this-is-weird sort of look. As Jennifer made her way to the front of the wagon Luanne requested the same from her and when Jennifer leaned in to give her a hug Luanne gave her a kiss on the cheek and whispered, "You be good to that baby. And you all come see me, you hear me?"

  "Yes ma'am." Jennifer replied with a smile.

  As soon as they stepped off the wagon Henry hopped back onto his driver’s seat, released the parking brake, and cracked the reins and they continued eastward down the interstate.

  "I hope they make it home ok. Luanne is so sweet." Jennifer commented.

  "She was nice but she doesn't seem to be dealing with all of this very well. I'd say she's in shock."

  “I think she is too.”

  They crossed under the Lee Street overpass and headed towards the downtown Greenville area. On their left was a small lake where years ago the land owners had dammed up a tributary of the Sabine River and created their own private recreational water park where sometimes people could be seen flying in the air atop water skies as they performed aerial acrobatics off ramps that had been placed in the water. Allan looked across and saw the water shimmering in the mid-morning sunlight and it looked so refreshing against his incredible thirst.

  "Wanna get a drink." He said as he nodded towards the lake.

  "We're so close. We've only got a couple more miles to go. I'm so excited to see Samantha." Jennifer replied.

  Allan felt excited too, but he also felt a looming sense of dread. What if Samantha isn’t there? What if, heaven forbid, something terrible happened and they got swept up in the violence gripping everything now? The questions had been hanging over Allan since they first set out on their journey home. He wanted to desperately reunite with Samantha but he feared that he might lose his mind if he couldn’t find her. He looked back at the water and longed to stop to drink and quench his thirst but also, he realized, to delay finding the answers to those terrifying questions.

  They huffed out the last three miles into downtown Greenville as fast as their aching bodies would take them. Before they reached the courthouse square they turned off on a side road called Stuart Street and they walked two blocks until they reached Church Street. When they reached the narrow residential street they turned and looked down the neighborhood and they both let out a sigh of relief when they saw that none of the houses on the road had been burned. Their sense of relief turned to sudden dread as they walked past the small wooden frame houses and saw what looked like bullet holes riddled across the fronts of all the doors and windows. Almost every window that faced the street was shattered and the windows on the second story of some of the houses were broken as well.

  "Oh my God!" Jennifer said cupping her mouth in fear of what the bullet holes might mean and tears began to flow from her eyes. She handed the baby to Allan and took off sprinting towards her mother's house screaming for her daughter. "Samantha! Samantha! Samantha!" She screamed with every step. She ran to the front door and banged on it over and over but no one answered.

  Frantically she ducked her head down and peered into the broken front porch window, "Samantha! Ellie!" She cried.

  Allan caught up to her and helped her to call out their daughter's name. With every passing moment Jennifer grew more and more hysterical. "Where are they?" She cried out to Allan or God or anyone who might know the answer. Allan darted off behind the house and looked into the widows but he saw no signs of them. When he got back around to the other side of the house he discovered that Jennifer's hysteria had turned into hyperventilation. She was sitting on the front steps, bent over herself like she was after she had been attacked and robbed in Dallas and she was grabbing at her chest and gasping for air.

  "Calm down baby." Allan said.

  "Where are they? Where's my baby girl?" Jennifer pleaded. Every fear and emotion that she had buried inside herself over the past few days in order to press on revealed themselves there on her terrified face. Her breathing became more erratic as the anxiety of the separation from Samantha manifested within her. In her state of panic she felt everything begin to spin as the world collapsed around her. Her breathing became shallow and her skin went pale and she looked to Allan and lipped the word "Inhaler" just before her body slumped off the front step. Her head smacked hard against the concrete porch and Allan dove down beside her and frantically examined her limp body. He searched her wrist to find a pulse and upon finding none her touched the side of her neck where he finally felt a very faint pulse.

  I need to get her inside. He thought. He held the baby in his arms and looked at the broken glass on the front porch window where it had been shot up like the rest of the houses on the street and then he looked back at the baby. I can't risk him getting cut if I try to pass through the window with him in my arms. The only place suitable to place the baby while he worked on the broken glass to get the three of them inside the house was with Jennifer. He bent Jennifer's limp arm at her elbow and formed a cradle in which he placed the baby down beside her arm.

  "I'll only be a minute." He whispered hopi
ng that his reassuring words would be understood by both the baby and Jennifer.

  He lifted his right foot in front of the broken window and stiffened his body to prepare for the hard kick that would bust through the rest of the glass but he hesitated when he saw the broken sole of his right shoe flapping in the air. He realized that it would only take one sharp edge of the glass to slice through what was left of his broken shoe so he changed positions and pounded against the glass with his left foot. The remaining glass cracked and fell into the house and, upon seeing that the window was clear, he ducked inside and then ran around and unlocked the front door.

  He reached down and lifted the baby off the ground and carried him into the bedroom and placed him in the middle of Ellie's queen sized bed and then he went back out and carefully lifted Jennifer off the front steps and brought her inside and lay her down on the bed beside the baby.

  Allan’s world began spinning and he knelt down on the floor beside them crying. What do I do? What do I do? He pleaded with himself to find an answer. He thought of her state of panic just before she collapsed. I should have done more to calm her down. The image of her slumping off the step and smacking against the concrete repeated over and over in his mind. I should have caught her from falling. Stop it. What's done is done and you can't change any of it. He told himself but the image of her body lying on the ground continued to play through his mind. What did she say to me just before she passed out?

  Inhaler.

  He jumped up and ran to the medicine cabinet in Ellie's master bathroom. He flung the cabinet door open and threw his hands into the shelves spilling their contents into the sink as he searched for an inhaler that Jennifer might have used when she was younger that had been tucked away in the cabinet and long forgotten. Finding no inhaler in the medicine cabinet he began to search the drawers below the sink and when that produced nothing he emptied out the contents of all the dresser drawers in the entire house. To his dismay he found nothing that would help his ailing wife. He fell back to her side, desperate and torn. He knew she needed medicine to help her breathe but that would mean leaving her to go find the medicine somewhere.