If the bolt didn’t go in perfectly straight he might strip it and ruin it. Or, even worse, strip the housing the starter bolted into.
It didn’t help that he rushed out sooner than he should have and his hands hadn’t completely warmed. His fingers were already numb.
Finally, just before he had to stop to give his arm a rest from holding the starter, he found paydirt.
He screwed the first bolt in finger tight and went on to the second one.
The second one was much easier, of course, both because the first bolt bore most of the weight of the starter now. And because he could pivot the starter back and forth over the second hole until the second bolt lined up.
After bolting it into place, he attached the ground wire and the wire from the starter relay.
It was time for a long break, since his hands were almost frozen. Back into his safe room he went. Quickly taking off his parka and mukluks, he crawled into his double sleeping bags and was amazed to find they were still warm on the inside. The double layer of winter bags still retained his body heat from when he’d been in them two and a half hours before.
It didn’t take long before he was toasty warm again. So warm he didn’t want to get back out.
But it was something he had to do.
It took him less than an hour to inspect the parts of the electronic fuel injection system and replace the bad ones. Then he took off his dirty parka so he wouldn’t get grime all over the interior, and climbed into the driver’s seat.
The key was still in the new ignition, but before he turned it he said a quick prayer.
“Please, God. You know I don’t ask for much. In fact, I haven’t asked you for anything since this whole ordeal started, except to make sure my wife and children were alive and unharmed.
“But I’m asking you for this, Lord. Please make this thing start so I can get my family back together again.”
He held his breath and turned the key.
Nothing.
He stared to cry.
-48-
Dave immediately sank into a deep depression. For days he rarely got out bed except when nature called. And since he wasn’t eating and was barely drinking, nature wasn’t calling very often.
He slept a lot, off and on, in daytime as well as in darkness. During his waking hours, he examined his entire life, from his first memories as a young boy, and decided he was a miserable failure.
He focused on everything he ever failed at, from his first attempts at tying square knots to his dismal SAT score. The one algebra class in high school he just couldn’t pass, even after retaking it a second semester. The dead-end job at a 7-Eleven he’d gotten fired from. The letter of reprimand he’d once gotten in the Marine Corps for being late for guard duty.
Everything. He tried to convince himself he was the most miserable human being on the face of the earth, past or present.
He overlooked the good. His successful business career. The fact that all his friends looked up to him and considered him a fine man. His devotion as a loving husband and father.
At one point while in this state, he went to the kitchen and sat beside Mikey, and begged the dead man for forgiveness.
And when he was at rock bottom, when he could not possibly be any more down on himself, he took out his handgun.
There was already a round in the chamber. There had been ever since the night he’d shot and killed Mikey.
He clicked off the safety and held it up against the bottom of his chin. Against his temple. He even placed it in his mouth, finger firmly on the trigger, and savored the metallic taste of the barrel.
He wondered which method would be the least messy.
In case Sarah and the girls somehow made it back to him.
And it was only that thought… that his family shouldn’t have to clean his blood and brain matter from the ceiling and walls, after all they’d already been through…
It was only that thought that caused him to put the gun back in his holster and decide to keep living.
Of course, calling what he was doing “living” was a stretch.
Probably the only substantive thing he did during this bout of depression was to pen an entry to Sarah in the journal he’d been keeping for her.
Hi Baby.
Yesterday was the second worst day since the blackout began. The only day worse than yesterday was the day you and the girls disappeared from my life and got on that plane. The day of the blackout itself. As bad as that day was, yesterday was almost as bad.
I got the Explorer down the street from where it died that day and put it into the garage and replaced all the bad parts with good ones. For two days I wasted my time and froze my butt and my fingers off. And it didn’t work.
I don’t know why. Something else got fried that is somehow preventing the damn thing from starting. I knew it was only an untested theory, and that I shouldn’t have gotten by hopes up. I should have known better, but damn it, I was counting on it working.
I want you and the girls to know that I am still coming for you. I’ll have to walk now, and we’ll probably have to walk back unless Tommy was able to protect any vehicles from the EMP. Or maybe he can figure out why the Explorer didn’t work and help me get another vehicle running. I think he’s a better shade tree mechanic than I am.
The worst part of this is, it’s going to take three more months before I can see you and hold you again.
But I’m coming. You can count on that.
I’ve decided I’m going to try to fatten up before I leave. The rabbit meat has been pretty lean, and I’ve always trimmed off the extra fat after I’ve slaughtered them. I’m hoping they pack on extra fat during the winter to help keep them warm. I’m going to stop trimming it off and start eating it in my stews instead. Lots of carbs too, over the next two or three months.
If I can pack on some extra pounds, I can live off the stored fat to help keep me going. That means less hunting and foraging for food. And more time on the road instead.
I seem to remember seeing an old baby stroller, leaning against the wall in the Castros’ garage. One of those fancy ones, with a rack beneath it to carry your stuff.
I’m going to see if it still works, and if it does I’m going to take it to Kansas City with me.
I know, that sounds ridiculous. But it’ll enable me to take a second bag full of provisions, strapped into the stroller like a baby. That will also help reduce the time I have to spend hunting for food. I can put bottles of water in the rack, so I don’t have to forage for water as often.
In the daytime, I’d be afraid that would attract bandits, who’d see my two bags of food as a jackpot. But I plan to travel only at night. So it should be safe.
This is a major setback, and I’d be lying if I said it hasn’t affected me. It’s come very close to killing my spirit. But it hasn’t killed my resolve. I will get to you. I made you that promise the day of the blackout, and I’m just as committed today.
Please give the girls a hug and a kiss for me. I love you all.
His depression went on a few more days, until one afternoon he was in the middle of a very deep sleep.
Dave didn’t dream often, but when he did his dreams were vivid and real. Perhaps this dream was brought on by the delirium he was going through from lack of water and nourishment. Or maybe because he had slept so fitfully for days and just needed a good hard sleep. Whatever caused it, the hard sleep and his dream finally gave him his answers.
Or at least some of them.
“Dad, you need to stop doing this to yourself.”
Lindsey’s face was so real, so clear, he could reach out and stroke the tears from her cheek. It was full of color and full of life, and despite her tears the vision warmed his heart.
“Baby, I’ve missed you so.”
“I miss you too, Dad We all do. We love you so much and we know it must be so hard for you, there all alone.”
“I’m not alone anymore, Lindsey, honey. Thank you for coming to see me. Where
’s Mom and your little sister?”
“Dad, would you do something for me?”
“Sure, honey. What do you need?”
“Dad, it’s very important that you take care of the bunnies. Lindsey and Beth. Don’t let anything happen to them, okay?”
Dave smiled in his dream.
“They’re not very sociable, honey. All they do is follow me around and stare at me. They won’t even let me pick them up. Heck, I don’t even know if they’re girls. For all I know I could have named two boy bunnies after you.”
“Oh, they’re girls, Dad. Please take good care of them. It’s very important.”
“Okay, I will.”
“Dad, I have to go now. The second thing I want you to do, promise me you’ll do, is go back and check your wiring.”
“Check… my wiring? On what? What wiring?”
“Dad, I have to go. I love you so much. Please don’t ever forget that.”
She turned and walked away.
Dave noticed for the first time his daughter was dressed in a flowing white gown that covered her down to the floor. But he could see the heels of her bare feet beneath the bottom of the gown as she walked away from him.
“Lindsey, wait! Where are your Mom and sister?”
But his daughter kept walking, then disappeared into nothingness.
He was awake now, but stubbornly refused to open his eyes. He thought maybe, just maybe, if he kept them closed, she’d come back. Maybe bring Sarah and Beth with her.
Finally, he opened them. They opened easily. Not dry and pasty as they should have been after a long sleep. They were moistened by his tears. Lubricated by his sorrow. Dampened by his misery.
He looked around. Outside light penetrated his safe room. It was daytime, although he had no clue what time it was. His small battery-powered clock was in pieces and scattered about the tiny room, after he’d thrown it against the wall a couple of days before.
The fire was out again, and apparently had been for a long time. There were no embers, still gasping for life. No tiny wisps of smoke still smoldering from the ashes. No heat emanating from the fireplace at all.
He didn’t care. It no longer mattered.
He pulled the sleeping bag up tightly around his neck, rolled over and went back to sleep, wanting desperately for his dream to return.
A couple of hours later, Dave’s eyes were suddenly wide open and he sat bolt upright in bed.
He scrambled out of his sleeping bags and ran barefoot through the house and into the garage.
He grabbed a flashlight and looked under the hood of the Explorer.
Then he laughed the insane laugh of a lunatic.
The third wire, the black wire that was supposed to connect the third terminal of the starter relay to the battery, was still hanging limply against the side of the fender well.
-49-
Hi Honey.
Forget everything I said the other day. Pretend I was just hallucinating. Pretend I was drunk or stupid. And give Lindsey a super-sized hug for me, will you? Tell her she is wonderful and that I love her so much.
I got the Explorer running. Lindsey came to me in a dream, and in that dream she told me to check my wiring. I didn’t have a clue what she meant.
Then as I was lying in bed I was going over in my mind that I’d done to the Explorer. Everything, from the time I put it on the jack stands to the time I finally turned the key and nothing happened. And the weirdest thing happened. I couldn’t remember attaching the last wire from the relay to the battery. I ran out to the garage, and sure enough there it was, just hanging there, laughing at me and telling me how stupid and careless I was.
Anyway, I hooked it up and jumped into the driver’s seat and turned the key on the steering column. Stupid again.
Then I turned the second ignition key I’d installed on the dashboard. It hesitated a bit, which I think was because the battery was so cold. But then it sprang to life.
Hearing that engine run was the prettiest thing I’ve heard in my life.
Well, the second prettiest thing, after hearing you say “I do.”
But it was a real close second.
I only let it run for a few minutes. I didn’t want anyone to hear it running from the street. The dashboard is blacked out and will stay that way, since the new wiring arrangement doesn’t go through the electrical system. No lights, no heater, no CD player. But I don’t need any of that stuff. All I need is a vehicle that moves to get me to Kansas City and then to get us back again.
And it seems that I have it.
It occurred to me that I didn’t buy a backup alternator to keep the battery charged. Another stupid oversight, I know. I crawled up under the thing and put an amp meter on it and it is putting out juice. But I don’t know if it’s enough to keep the battery charged.
My solution is not to start it anymore until I leave, in case I have a limited number of starts before it goes dead. Also, I did remember to protect a jump starter. I’ll charge it up on the generator and bring it along when I come for you. I’ll also try not to kill the car more than once or twice along the way.
If I knew for sure the highways were going to be abandoned, I might try to drive straight through, only stopping to siphon gas and leaving the engine running when I did.
But I expect the highways to be an obstacle course full of thousands of abandoned vehicles to drive around. And I suspect that there may be some people there as well, camping in or close to abandoned big rigs full of food. So the going might be slow.
I have two more options, which I’ll consider before I go. One of them is making a trip to an auto parts store and getting a new alternator to install before I go. I’ve been trying to remember where the nearest store is. I know there’s a Ford dealer on Loop 410 a couple of miles away, but I don’t know how many alternators they stock. It seems to me that last time I was here getting my oil changed I saw a NAPA pickup pull up with a delivery for them. So I’m thinking they may only carry a limited amount of parts.
The nearest NAPA store is probably five miles or so. I could make it there one night, camp there during the day, and return the next night with the alternator, so that’s an option I’ll consider.
Another option is just taking the generator with me. It’s got jumper cables built into it to get the car running again even if the battery went dead.
The problem with that is, if the vehicle breaks down and we have to abandon it, we’d have no power after we got back.
Also, one of the tires is flat. I’m kicking myself in the butt for not thinking to anticipate that possibility and putting an air compressor in the Faraday cage. I could put the emergency spare on it and would probably be okay. I know I won’t be driving fast. But I don’t know if that little donut will get us a thousand miles up there and a thousand miles back again.
I suppose that if I go to NAPA to get a generator I can grab a small air compressor too. I’m pretty sure they’d both fit in my backpack. I’m also sure it would be a chore to lug them five miles back home, but then I probably need a good workout.
Some of the things that don’t have a lot of electronics and weren’t plugged into the wall, like our lamps and fans, were spared any damage. Maybe the air compressors survived as well. After all, I don’t think they’re very complicated, and a new one wouldn’t have been plugged in.
It’s a lot to think about, but it’s a couple of months before the thaw so I still have some time.
Remember those twenty glass pickle jars you bought that weekend at the swap meet a couple of years ago? Those great big ones that held like two gallons of pickles and had the screw-on metal lids?
Remember when you brought them home and I laughed and asked you what in heck they were for and you said you were going to put dry stock and trail mix into them?
I told you that was ridiculous and that zip lock bags would work better because we could hide the zip lock bags under the attic insulation and in the walls.
I remember asking you, “Wher
e in hell are we going to hide glass jars bigger than watermelons?”
Your feelings were hurt and I remember apologizing and taking you out to dinner, remember?
Anyway, I’d forgotten all about those pickle jars and never saw them again after that, so I guess I just assumed you threw them out with the garbage.
Today I was in the mood to celebrate after getting the car started again, and I wanted something sweet.
I remember hiding some bags of hard candy under the ductwork in the attic, and went up to get a bag and bring it downstairs.
And lo and behold, there were those twenty pickle jars, stacked neatly in the far end of the attic, where you put them two years ago.
They’re covered with dust now, and I stood there looking at them awhile wondering if I could possibly use them for anything.
And I had a great idea.
I’ll have plenty of room in the back seat of the Explorer, even after I fill the back with the water and provisions.
I think I’ll fill those twenty jars with a mixture of jerky and trail mix, and hide one every fifty miles or so along the route to Kansas City, as an insurance policy. I mean, think about it. It’s the perfect container. Coyotes and dogs can’t chew into it. Neither can squirrels or rats. It’s too big for birds to carry away, and it’s watertight so rain won’t hurt the contents.
At every mile marker that ends with 00 or 50 along the way, I’ll pull over and hide one of them real good in the bushes. Then if the vehicle breaks down and we have to walk back, we can be assured we’ll have food stashed on the way back. Hell, maybe I’ll take some bottles of water and stash a couple of them with each jar. It won’t be as much as we need, but it’ll definitely cut down on the time we have to stop to hunt and look for drinking water.
And if the car’s still running, we won’t lose anything. On the way back from Kansas City we’ll just stop and pick up the jars and bring them back home again.
An Unkind Winter (Alone Book 2) Page 18