10:37

by Jacqueline Druga

  “That just seems wrong.” Dawson glanced out to the mirror again. Tire Man sat against the side of the truck, his head was turned to the back watching the road go by.

  “Wanna play a road game?” Judd asked,

  “What’s that?”

  “Different games you play to make the miles go faster. Some we can’t play because there aren’t any cars on the road. Well there are, just not enough.”

  “Sure.” Dawson said.

  He was surprised they were driving as well as they were. At first he thought they’d never get out of the city, but Judd zig zigged through back streets and was smart about it.

  “Go,” Judd said.

  “What?”

  “Go first.”

  “And do what?”

  “You weren’t listening were you?” Judd asked.

  Dawson shook his head.

  “Sorry. I’m sorry. You’re probably finally upset about everything. I mean you were pretty cool back home with Mr. Westerman and that hole. I was the mess there. You were brave about falling.”

  “That’s because you had me. I don’t know how you did it,” Dawson said. “You were fast, too. I felt your hand let go and next thing I know you are swopping me out of that hole like Superman.”

  Dawson saw it. Judd looked away and stopped smiling.

  “Dawson, I have to tell you something.”

  “What is it?”

  “I dropped you. Not on purpose. My fingers slipped, they were wet.”

  “But you got me.”

  Judd shook his head. ‘No, he did.” He pointed back.

  “What?”

  “Soon as I lost grip, Tire Man was there and plucked you out of the hole so fast I didn’t have time to register it.”

  “Wait. Why would you lie to me?” Dawson asked.

  “About what?”

  “You let me think it was you.”

  “I never said it was me. I just …. I just figured I’d tell you when we had time. I’m sorry. Don’t be mad.”

  “Did you at least say thank you to Tire Man?”

  “Yeah, I guess,” Judd said.

  “Is that why you brought him? So he can save me again?”

  “No.” Judd shook his head. “I brought him because he wanted to come and after what he did, it was only right.”

  “Stop the truck.”

  “Why? Do you have to pee?”

  “Stop the truck, please, Mr. Heston.”

  “Mr. Heston? This is serious.”

  “You said call you that when it counts. I want this request to count. Can you stop?”

  “Sure thing.” Judd slowed down and then after stopping put the truck in park.

  Dawson reached down to the small gym bag on the floor and unzipped it.

  “What are you doing?” Judd asked.

  After setting a bottle of water and one of those premade peanut butter sandwiches on the seat, Dawson opened the door. ‘I’ll be right back.”

  “Dawson?’ Judd opened his door.

  It was a tough climb down. Dawson had to stand on that little ledge by the door and slide to the ground, he reached up and grabbed the sandwich and water. By the time he was on the ground, Judd was there.

  “What’s going on?” Judd asked.

  “He may smell too bad to be in the truck and he may not even be safe, but he saved my life Judd. The least I can do is try to save his.”

  “Humbled,” Judd said. “Good idea.”

  Dawson walked to the back of the tuck. Tire Man was much higher so Judd lifted him up. “Here you go. I know you’re hungry. Try to eat.” Dawson said to Tire Man.

  Tire Man didn’t take the water, it dropped into the truck, but he did manage to take the wrapped peanut butter sandwich. Expressionless he looked at the sandwich.

  Judd set Dawson down.

  Tire Man put the sandwich to his mouth, wrapper and all.

  “No. No” Judd reached out. “Let me open that for you.” The second his hand was near the sandwich, Tire Man released this soft but scary growl and his eyes darted at Judd.

  Judd quickly pulled back his hand and stared. “Let’s go, Dawson.”

  “Boy he must be hungry.”

  “Yeah.” Judd said inching Dawson along. “He must be.”

  Instead of waiting for Dawson to walk and get back into his side, Judd lifted him and placed him in the truck and shut the door. He watched in the side mirror as Judd walked around the back of the truck only pausing to look at Tire Man.

  It wasn’t long and they were back on the road driving.

  TWENTY-THREE – ROLL BY

  It bothered Ross and Morgan knew it. His face was bruised, his arms had gashes, he looked as if he had been beaten by a mob. When in fact, in a sense, he had been. They didn’t reach out and hit him, bite or scratch him, instead they acted like a boa constrictor and tried to squeeze him in. It was the fight to get through that caused the injuries. Those would heal, his mind would take longer.

  The tough officer of the law was affected when he dealt with the people that moved outside the motel. So much so, that not five miles down the road and free and clear of the mob, Ross pulled over, stepped from the SUV and walked to the side of the road to vomit.

  “Are you all right?” Morgan asked.

  With his back to her, Ross lifted a hand but stayed at a distance. Morgan took the time to review the map and compare it to her weather charts. She opened up the back hatch and spread them out, taking cover from the rain under the lifted back end.

  They were still in Pennsylvania, but not far from the Ohio turnpike. Even with accidents and cars off the road during the drop, they should still be able to make it free and clear through the highway, provided weather didn’t hinder them.

  It had rained steadily, but slowed down to a constant drizzle when they were leaving the hotel.

  Basically, they fled the motel and just jumped the nearest highway going west. Fortunately, it was the right direction.

  She was chilled and looked at the map for a possible stopping point to get clothes and a jacket. It was spring and the temperature didn’t surprise her. It worried her, rain could turn into snow. Considering one inch of rain was about a foot of snow, they were in trouble if the temperature dropped any more.

  Sipping a bottle of water, Ross approached. “Figure out anything?” he asked.

  “Yeah, we could take this route pretty much to Akron then catch another highway. I’m worried about the weather.”

  “How so?”

  “When I looked up the weather maps back in the city, this is what I printed.” She pulled out two sheets of paper and lay them side by side. “This one is the jet stream. Weather moves from west to east and typically follows jet streams. As of that day, the jet streams were coming from Chicago, down into Ohio and east. The national weather operates on a color coded system. For storms. Light blue to red and harshest can be white or black. This light color here west of Akron,” She pointed. “Pale blue. This is what we are getting right now. Light rain. That darker color, red, we’re running right into. That hit Akron last night, this morning, it’s not as bad as what just hit Pittsburgh. I’m guessing.” She pointed to a weather system just before Akron.

  “So we missed it.”

  “That one. This one here is the one I am worried about. It’s big and blackened out. Not a printing error. This should be about a hundred miles west of Akron, and it’s bad. We’ll hit it late tonight if we keep going. Then again, I’m making predictions on this. Everything is one big storm system, just pockets of intensity.”

  “How did you learn to predict weather.”

  “I watched it constantly,” Morgan said. “I was obsessed especially when they called for snow. I got so tired of them being wrong, I started learning it.”

  “Did it help?”

  Morgan nodded. “Yes, when I was wrong, I could only blame myself.”

  “So, Miss Weather Gal, what do you suggest?”

  “Hit Youngstown and head south instead of heading d
ue west. Try to miss it like the one we missed in Pittsburgh. It’s one o’clock now, we can go a few more hours and then find a safe place to hunker down.”

  “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

  Morgan folded the papers. “We also need to figure out a way to get gas, we have some just not enough to get to Branson.”

  “We’ll figure it out.” Ross reached up for the hatch.

  “Are you better now?”

  “Somewhat.”

  “Was it because you ran over those people?”

  Ross facially winced. “Yes, Morgan. I ran over those people and got sick about it. It bothered me. Didn’t it bother you?”

  “I don’t see them as people.”

  “How can you say that? They’re living, they’re breathing…”

  “They’re dangerous. Maybe one or two aren’t, but they operate like animals in a pack mentality. What one does the others do. At least from what I saw at the motel. If we don’t figure out a way to get through them, we’re in trouble if we run into too many of them. They won’t give a shit if we feel bad.”

  “Were you always like this?” Ross asked, shutting the hatch.

  “Like what?”

  “Mean. Hard.”

  Morgan stared at him for a moment, then headed back to the passenger’s door. “No. Not always.”

  “Just wondering. One more thing…”

  Morgan stopped.

  “This storm you’re talking about. You used the term hunker down. How bad is it?”

  “I don’t know. I never experienced it ever. Red usually is tornado weather. Hopefully we’ll avoid it, be under it, but we still need to hunker down,” she said. “Put it this way, I believe if there are survivors in that area west, God help them. Because if they aren’t ready, there probably won’t be survivors when this storm is done.”

  TWENTY-FOUR – DASHING MEMORIES

  Dawson gave the queerest of looks to Judd when he they passed a road sign that read ‘Lodi’ and Judd chuckled out with fond remembrance. “Oh man, Lodi. Bet you love Lodi.”

  “I don’t think so,” Dawson said after staring at Judd for a moment or two. What’s Lodi?”

  “Wait. You don’t know Lodi, Ohio. Little dude, that’s only like forty miles from you. You never were in Lodi?”

  Dawson shook his head.

  “Man, how have you not been to Lodi. Even I was in Lodi and it’s not so small they call it a village.”

  “Like with huts?”

  Judd laughed. “No. There’s a whole string of small towns west of Akron, all following the same route.”

  “You’re not from around here. How do you know?”

  “Back in the day, we moved around quite a bit on a tour bus. About ten years ago, we were headed from a concert in Erie to Columbus. Passed through the small towns and the bus broke down right outside of Lodi. In fact, we pulled off the exit hoping to find a car repair place and we just busted down. Squad car came by to help out. Just so happened we couldn’t get a mechanic if we tried. It was the Sweet Corn festival they have. Just …” Judd noticed Dawson was staring out the window. “I’m boring you, aren’t I?”

  “No.” He paused. “Yeah, a little.”

  “Lodi is a cool town.”

  “Hey, maybe the small towns are saved. Maybe they’re so small they didn’t get hit.”

  “Maybe,” Judd said.

  “Like Branson. It isn’t big. I dreamt of it you know.”

  “You told me.”

  “Some guy named Bill was waving his arm at me saying, ‘Come to Branson’. "

  “You didn’t tell me that.”

  “What do you suppose it means?”

  “It means we should go to Branson.”

  “Think we should stop at these small towns and look for people?”

  Judd took a moment to think about it. While they were supposed to head south west before Lodi, they could continue west, even for a little bit, to check the towns. It wouldn’t take them too far from the route and it would be worth it to look. All around them was desolation, chances were small town or not, it would be the same way there, too. Besides, what would it hurt to look?

  TWENTY-FIVE - SPOT

  The planned route outside of Youngstown, Ohio came to an unexpected end when the road entered what looked like a lake just west of the town of Canfield.

  It went across too far and wide to see.

  “Did we just hit the end of the country?” Ross asked. “Is everything flooded from here on in? This is insane.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Seriously?” Ross snapped. “Are you calling me ridiculous?

  “No, just your idea. It has to be the small lake a mile north of here.” Morgan looked at the map. “We’ll back track and just head further south.”

  Ross didn’t think that was going to work. He swore that somehow the three lakes north of them spilled over from all the rain, if that was even possible. But his fears were unfounded and they remained on dry land.

  The name of the town, Salem, sent chills through Ross. He even suggested they go around it. However, the Super Center at the edge of town was calling even him.

  The parking lot was full of cars, only a few had crashed. Decomposing bodies scattered about the blacktop. They had a bloated look to them, even more so than other bodies Ross had seen. He attributed it to the rain.

  It was dark when they entered the store, no power, the further back in the store Ross went the darker it was. He was able to find flashlights and lanterns. His main search was for those things. Batteries, a Coleman stove, survival items.

  Perhaps even some food items.

  He was shocked when he saw that Morgan had grabbed a heavy winter coat from the clearance rack.

  “It’s April,” he told her.

  “I’m being prepared for snow.”

  Ross laughed.

  “Go on, laugh. It’s not even fifty out there. Any colder all that rain is going to be snow. Then we’re in trouble.”

  Ross paused. “Did you see any men’s coats?”

  They remained in the Super Center probably longer than they should have. Ross had gotten them enough supplies to ‘hunker’ down as Morgan put it for the night somewhere.

  They decided that after Salem, they go about a hundred miles or so southwest and start looking for a stopping place. The weather was holding up, the rain tapered, and Ross held high hopes that Morgan was wrong about the weather front.

  They loaded the truck and took the main road toward town. Riding shot gun, Morgan checked the map for alternate roads to get through, figuring, even though smaller, they’d run into the same.

  Cars blocking the roads, making things impassible.

  There wasn’t much conversation in the SUV. In fact Ross found himself increasingly annoyed with Morgan. He once had a partner that annoyed the hell out of him and he used to joke to him, “Man, I swear you’re my purgatory. The world ends I’m gonna be stuck with someone like you.”

  He was kidding.

  Morgan was worse than that partner and here Ross was, traveling with the only other person that was alive and lucid and he didn’t like her. How did that happen? What did he do in his life to have that?

  Bad weather, earthquakes, Ross started feeling silly for wanting to stop, find a quiet corner and get ‘me’ time. Who does that at the end of the world. Ross was patient and tolerant and all that was going out the window.

  His fleeting daydreams of ditching her came to a halt when he stopped the SUV. Ross smiled.

  “What is it?” Morgan asked, her nose buried in a map. “Do we need to back up?”

  “No. Life.”

  “What?” Morgan lifted her head. “Oh my God.” She, too finally smiled.

  Not far ahead, a few blocks perhaps, when the quaint town square of Salem began, they saw people.

  They moved across the street, on the sidewalks, pushing strollers and even saw what appeared to be a man walking a dog.

  Ross drove faster.

 
“Careful, they probably aren’t expecting a car to come down.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.” Ross slowed down. Maybe it was the east side of the country. Maybe it wasn’t a dead world after all.

  The ecstatic grin on Ross’ face took a nosedive when he saw the man walking a dog. He held a lease, but the dog wasn’t walking. He dragged the decaying carcass of the animal along the sidewalk.

  He looked quickly to Morgan when he heard the ‘click’ of the automatic locks. The moment the SUV came to a stop, so did everyone in town.

  As if all automated, every single person halted and slowly turned at the same time to face the SUV.

  “Back up?” Morgan suggested.

  “Yeah, backing up.” Ross put the SUV in gear and turned his body to peer out the window. When he did he saw more behind them. “Shit.”

  Every second they waited more came, hundreds of them and they slowly made their way to the SUV. There were far too many, too close, that plowing through was going to be impossible.

  TWENTY-SIX – NUN OF THAT

  Judd supposed he should have known, Wadsworth and Seville were both a repeat of what they had seen only on a smaller scale. The biggest difference was the ability to make it through main roads. There were vehicles that collided and some had gone off road. They even saw a car that had hit the steps of the Seville Methodist church and flipped over against the doors.

  Nothing was hopeful.

  At one point, Judd actually thought, “Wow, if we keep going further, I’ll need to use the boat.’

  Water started to rise around Seville, coming mid rims of the tires. It subsided after a mile.

  When they approached the interchange to get on Interstate 71, Judd contemplated forgoing Lodi.

  What was the use.

  However the optimist in him, the one who wanted to find life, along with Dawson’s insistence, Judd stayed on the route road and drove to Lodi.

  He remembered that road well, the same one he took into Lodi years ago. The same one his bus broke down on.

  He recalled the story to Dawson hoping he could catch his attention on it. It was a good story, he broke down, the corn festival and the band that cancelled.