Without

by E. E. Borton

  “Electricity didn’t reach the cities in the US until the 1920s. In the closest town to us, the homes on the outskirts weren’t wired until the ‘50s and ‘60s. When I was born on the reservation in Oklahoma, we didn’t have power. Many of my people to this day choose to live without it. Of course, their lives will be changed for reasons related to it, but it won’t be a direct cause.”

  “Well, our lives have changed because of it,” I said.

  “Very true,” said Wes. “And how we adapt to that change will determine our fate. I don’t look at this event as a death sentence for mankind. I’m worried about things to come, but until they do, I’m going to accept the change and do everything I can to help the people I care about live through it.”

  “You’re a better man than me, Wes. I wish I had the same positive outlook on what’s to come, but I don’t. Out there, the bad is beating the good.”

  “Is it?” asked Wes, setting up his point. “Have you made it this far without help from anyone? Were you not in pain, needing a safe place to rest yesterday? Were you not shown kindness and given shelter, food, and medical attention from strangers?”

  “Touché, Wes,” I conceded, smiling. “And not just from you guys. On the first night after I left my apartment, a woman named Emma took me in and showed me kindness as well. She also told me I’d meet you and a few others along the way. I guess I just forgot about that. Like I said before, I’ve had a few challenges on the road.”

  “They’re not over,” said Wes. “You and I both know it’s going to get worse. But I’m glad I reminded you of Emma’s words. They’re good words and they’re important to remember.

  “You told me yesterday that I give these people hope,” said Wes, standing. “There’s nothing preventing you from doing the same. Not teaching others the lessons you learned along the way would be an insult to the kindness we’ve shown you. Pay it forward and you honor that kindness. That much you do control.”

  Wes smiled at everyone at the table before he walked inside. I was wrong thinking he was a good leader. He was a great one.

  “Trust me,” said Alison, smiling. “We all got the speech.”

  “He cares about you,” I said. “All of you. That’s impressive.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m a selfish bastard,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “I only care about keeping myself alive.”

  “That’s not true,” said Alison. “I think you’re being a little melodramatic.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Those people you named,” replied Alison. “You didn’t know them before this happened. You helped them, didn’t you?”

  “Earl, a kind old man who gave me shelter and food, I repaid with a gunfight where he was shot and killed. The girls, all sweet and beautiful, I almost walked away from when they were being raped and beaten. I didn’t help any of them.”

  “Okay,” said Alison. “Enough of this crap. What happed in the gunfight? And just stick to the facts.”

  “All right, the facts,” I said. “Three rednecks walked onto the deck where we were having dinner. Before the leader of the cowards called Earl a nigger for the second time, I started shooting. One of the rednecks squeezed off a round that hit Earl in the chest. He was dead a few seconds later.”

  “Good,” said Alison. “We’re getting to the truth. They were going to kill both of you, weren’t they?”

  “No doubt in my mind.”

  “Earl died in a fight for your lives. There was nothing you could do. You know you’d be lying beside him if you hadn’t acted. You need to drop the whole “I got him killed thing.” It’s not very attractive. Now, tell me about the girls.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said, sensing I just poked the bear. “I walked up to a house where I heard screaming and gunshots. I turned and walked away. A short distance later, I went back. It was easy killing all four of them because they were too busy raping a woman and two young girls.

  “I walked away again when they wanted me to stay. Again, I turned around and went back. I stayed with them for a few days before her dead husband’s brother came for them. Since we’re being open and honest, I didn’t really want to leave at that point, but here I am, getting scolded like a child.”

  “Get over yourself,” said Alison. “Self-pity is even less attractive. Wes and I saw something in you the second we found you by the bridge. It’s a shame you don’t as well.”

  “See what?” I asked, interested in the answer.

  “No fear. And I’m not saying you’re not scared. You don’t back down from the ones looking to take advantage of you or anyone else. If you don’t think Wes has had to bury a few bodies in the woods, you don’t know him at all. It tears him up every time he has to do it, but he knows if he doesn’t they’ll take everything we have, including our lives.”

  “I’m no Wes,” I said. “And I’m not saying that for self-pity to be melodramatic. That guy has his shit together. Mine is all over the place.”

  “That’s obvious,” said Alison, not giving me an inch. “Wes goes to sleep every night and wakes up every morning scared about what’s coming our way. The difference between him and most others is, he’s fearless when it shows up. That’s what we see in you.”

  We all ducked when we heard the deafening crack as if somebody had just swung a bat into a brick wall. As we were heavy into our conversation, none of us had noticed the rolling black cloud on the horizon. Alison turned to see it coming up behind her.

  “What was that?” asked Alison, turning back to me.

  “It sounded like lightning hitting a tree,” I said.

  As soon as I said it, I realized that through all the crazy storm events of the past ten days there had been no lightning. There was hellacious thunder, but no lightning. It was as if the earth couldn’t produce its own electricity as well. The auroras we saw nightly were taking place miles above the earth on the edge of space. As we sat there wondering what it was, Mother Nature confirmed it for us.

  A giant bolt with a hundred fingers flashed in the growing cloud. We stood, waiting for the next impressive display. We ran when it came.

  The first bolt was another of her undeniable warnings that something terrible was brewing over us. The supercharged cloud blocked out the sun as it prepared for the next volley. As if paparazzi had arrived, the landscape exploded with blinding light.

  Chapter 21

  Signs

  It was war.

  Trees were exploding like they were being hit by a barrage of artillery. The lightning rods on the fire lookout tower were glowing white as they absorbed strike after strike of the massive bolts. The ground shook when they couldn’t take any more, sending debris in every direction after the blast.

  It started with one flash, but seconds later it erupted into a dizzying light show. With the black cloud blocking the sun, it was as if we were in a carnival funhouse with strobe lights pulsating to the beat of fast music. Most of us inside had to reach out for the wall as we moved from room to room, mesmerized by the powerful display.

  We had been spared a direct strike from the bolts, but we hit the deck when a heavy limb pierced through the roof over the kitchen. One of the rangers was sent flying across the floor after he was knocked off his feet by the impact. The room was quickly filling with smoke from the burning bomb. I grabbed an extinguisher off the wall, putting out the fire so we could reach the downed man. His forearm was deformed from the obvious break, but it seemed to be his only injury.

  I helped Ms. Ashley get under a table to give her some protection from the danger falling from above. I turned to look out the window, seeing countless trails of smoke behind branches turned into missiles. A large maple tree fifty yards from the station was fully engulfed, raining fire across the back yard and onto the deck. There were more ways to die outside, so we were forced to stay indoors, hoping the building could withstand the attack.

  Lasting for several minutes, the bombardment moved over us, leaving impressive destruc
tion in its wake. After Wes checked on every person in the station, he waited for the storm to pass over the mountain to our west before stepping outside. As the sunlight tried to push through the thinning tail of the cloud, it was defeated by the smoke of the fires left behind by the lightning strikes. I joined him on the deck to assess the damage. Rangers flew by me, springing into action to put water on the fires threatening the building.

  As if he knew it was coming, Wes and his troops were ready with a plan of action. Garden hoses were snaking in all directions, being attached to valves on each water source on the property. Two rangers were see-sawing on a manual pump, increasing the water pressure on a large hose equal in size to any on a fire truck.

  When Wes gave the command, the firefighting ranger on the nozzle pushed the lever forward, sending a wide arc of water onto the roof. Puffs of dying smoke and steam rose from the dozens of small fires on and around the station as they drowned each one. When they were satisfied the building was safe, they turned their hoses onto outlying fires that threatened the smaller structures around the station. In a matter of minutes, all of the fires from the burning debris were extinguished. There wasn’t much these rangers lacked in preparation – if anything.

  As they turned their attention to the burning maple, Wes signaled for them to stop their advance. I was the only person who questioned why he ordered the retreat from complete victory. He didn’t speak an answer, he gave it with a confident smile, waving to his troops to converge on the deck.

  “We need to cover the hole in the roof,” said Wes. “And we need to do it with some speed.”

  With nods the rangers traded their hoses for tools. Being useless during the firefighting, I joined them in the repair. These weren’t the type of people to throw a tarp over anything. Once again they were efficient, organized, and the perfect definition of a team. As the last shingle was nailed to the plywood patch, the reason for the confident smile came rolling over the mountain to the east. A dense curtain of rain doused any fears of lightning ignited forest fires. The maple surrendered without a fight.

  “I’m not even going to ask,” I said, looking at Wes.

  “The signs are everywhere.”

  He went inside, leaving me standing in the doorway to the deck. I watched as Mother Nature erased the danger she had created moments before. I didn’t notice any of the signs he spoke of which alerted him to the coming rain. I vowed to pay more attention.

  As soon as the rain stopped, the sun made a grand appearance, sending us a sign we could all read. A brilliant rainbow decorated the recovering sky. The good was just as intense as the bad.

  After setting the injured ranger’s broken bone, Alison checked me again for any hints of pneumonia. Her diagnosis was that my lungs were clearing well and I was closer to coming out of the woods of an infection. It was a gentle reminder that I’d have to leave in the morning. I found myself in another place where I wasn’t eager to walk away.

  We all pitched in to clean the debris off the roof, in the kitchen, and around the property. It didn’t take long to restore the meticulous order of the station. Like nothing happened, we enjoyed another family-style meal on the deck before the sun set for the evening.

  As I was afforded the safety and security of my quarters for the last time, my mind drifted to the faces of the people I’d met along my journey. There was an urge to walk in the wrong direction in the morning, checking on all of them. I wanted to put my eyes on Hope and the girls to know that they made it through the lightning barrage intact. I wanted to stop by Emma’s to see if she weathered the storms as well as I had. I tried to push Sam out of my thoughts, but she found a way inside my head. Blowing me a kiss goodbye on Hope’s porch was the last image I remember before I fell asleep. She was still there when I awoke, staying away from my dreams.

  I cleared my head of her and packed my gear for another long walk. From what I could tell, my lungs had defeated any chance of me staying a few more days. I tried to make as little noise as possible since the dawn was just starting to break. I said most of my goodbyes the night before, knowing I’d be leaving early.

  Taking advantage of the comforts of the wash shed, I brushed my teeth, shaved, and prepared for the trip. Feeling refreshed, I walked outside to look for any signs that Mother Nature might be in a bad mood. A cool breeze and blue sky were the only messages I received. As I turned the corner and headed for the road, I saw a different sign that put a smile on face.

  “Good morning,” greeted Alison on horseback, holding the reigns of another. “You weren’t going to leave without saying goodbye, were you?”

  “Didn’t want to wake you,” I said. “You had a long day yesterday.”

  “So did you,” said Alison. “Wes appreciated all your help and your company. Wes is already out checking on some friends who don’t live far from here. This is his horse. He wants you to use it to get over the mountains so you can have more time to let those ribs heal.”

  “I take it you’re coming with me?”

  “I am.”

  “Be sure to thank him for me,” I said. “He’s already done too much. The both of you have.”

  “Don’t mention it,” said Alison, noticing that I could mount the horse without a boost. “You heal pretty fast.”

  “Oh, no,” I said. “They still hurt like hell. I was just trying to impress you.”

  “Mission accomplished. We should make the other side of the range by early afternoon. That’ll put you on the edge of the WMA. Lafayette is less than five miles from where I’ll be turning around. The walk to town will be much easier for you – and your ribs – on fresh legs.”

  I was more than grateful, knowing I wouldn’t have to sleep in a car somewhere deep in the backcountry. (I had my fill of sleeping in cars.) On horseback, it would save me a day of uphill travel through the WMA.

  The trail we took cut the distance in half. We kept our eyes turned upwards, looking for any signs of bad weather approaching. Not only were the events becoming more intense, the speed of their arrival was unnerving. We knew it could be blue skies and smooth sailing one moment, then darkness and chaos the next.

  From the crest of the highest point on the trail, I could see Lafayette. It was the last town with a considerable population along my route to Bootleg Mountain and the end of my travels. Even eleven days into the event, I thought it unlikely anyone had taken up residence or looted the supplies inside. Either scenario wasn’t disheartening. If someone was there, I’d ask them politely – at first – to leave. If the supplies were gone, I’d have no problem finding plenty of food and water nearby.

  “How far away is your home?” asked Alison.

  “Once I hit Lafayette, two days’ walk,” I answered. “Well, that’s if my ribs cooperate with me.”

  “I know you’re in a hurry to get there,” said Alison, “but you need to pace yourself. If it gets hard to breath, take a break. You’ve come this far, no need to tempt fate.”

  “I’ve been telling myself that for eleven days,” I said. “So far I haven’t taken my own advice.”

  “What’s the plan when you get there?”

  “Hunker down,” I said. “Let myself heal properly and then get things in order.”

  “Any family or friends around?”

  “Nope, just me.”

  “So the plan is still to avoid people,” said Alison, smiling. “Turn into Grizzly Adams minus the beard. If you don’t mind me saying, that sounds pretty lonely.”

  “It isn’t the first time I’ve heard that,” I said. “Sam told –”

  “Sam?” asked Alison. “The Sam?”

  “I know it sounds crazy, but I still talk to her,” I said. “When things get tough, I can hear her voice. She’s helped me out of a few jams since this thing started. I haven’t heard from her in a while.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Long story,” I said.

  “Long ride.”

  I didn’t hold anything back. I told Alison about what happened w
ith Hope and how Sam had to let me go so I could make my own decisions. Thinking I made the wrong one, I also told her how I thought I took advantage of the situation at the house. It felt good talking to someone – anyone – about it. In her usual fashion, Alison didn’t pull any punches.

  “You really are a mess,” said Alison. “And I’m not saying that to be mean. We’ve all had our share of difficult moments recently, but I think you win the prize. Anybody would be a mess if they were walking in your shoes. You know you only have one choice, right?”

  “To get over it,” I answered.

  “Bingo,” replied Alison. “In three words, I can sum up everything I’ve learned about life. It goes on.”

  “Robert Frost?” I said.

  “Bingo, again, sir,” replied Alison. “You’re on a roll today. I’m not big into poetry, but that guy makes sense to me.”

  Time flew as we talked, putting miles behind us. Before we both realized it, the road that would take me the rest of the way to Lafayette appeared in front of us. It was a good conversation. I was sorry to see it – and Alison – go. We made our goodbyes quick.

  I stood for a moment as I watched her return to the woods, leading Wes’s horse back to the station. It must have taken an incredible amount of trust to lend me such a valuable animal. When she disappeared, I turned to face the road.

  Alone again.

  Chapter 22

  (Day 11)

  Little Debbie

  Without the nagging pain in my side, I would’ve made the six-mile trip in less than three hours. Judging by the position of the sun, I was well into my fourth. As the houses grew closer together, I knew I was on the outskirts of Lafayette. It was a town of 7,000 people spread out over eight square miles. I didn’t see a soul as I approached the small airfield. The end of the single runway was two miles from downtown. It was as close as I wanted to get.