by Caryl McAdoo
He dug it out and unfolded it.
‘Ha! Thought I hid my keys here, did you? Best jump through the worm hole; see if you can find ’em there. Pop’
A ray of bright light peeped through his dark mood. He could just hear Pop saying it. And it bolstered hope in his heart. He shook his head and grinned. Just like him to be joking around. A heavy weight lifted. Looked like his grandfather wasn’t dead in the cellar after all; more than fine with him.
He hurried to the spot where he and Pop always dug their fishing worms under the rabbit hutches. Sure enough, a mason jar rested just under the surface. That was a great sign.
Heading straight for the cellar, he stopped long enough to scan the farm all around to make sure no one was watching then opened the door. No odor. Excellent. He eased down the four steps into the fair-sized concrete room. An oil lamp rested on the table between two straight back chairs on the side wall.
A box of kitchen matches lay next to it, and under that, a piece of notebook paper.
He rested the rifle against the far chair, then lit the lamp and immediately knew why they’d left it locked. The cellar was stocked full with all kinds of great stuff. Like the shelves of a small grocery store. He chuckled. Who would have thought Pop was a prepper?
Naw, must have been Meems. Jackson would get the girls down there and see what they needed. He held the paper up in the soft light.
‘Blessings, dear family. Glad you found the key. We stayed a little longer than a week, but Pop decided it was best to leave, so we’re headed to Uncle Roy’s farm. Hope to see you there. Take whatever you can use, then leave Pop’s note under the fender and put the cellar key back in the worm bed. Love and hugs, Meems’
They were alive! He’d barely missed them, too.
Blowing out a deep breath, he let the news wash over him. They’d gone to Uncle Roy’s farm; that was what? An hour away? Couldn’t remember exactly, but it wasn’t that bad. Just farther east. He grabbed the rifle then hurried out. At the top step, he whistled the three-note tune his father used to call him and his siblings.
Boggs showed first; then Cooper followed with the others.
He nodded toward the cellar.
“What’d you find?”
“Check it out; they left us all kinds of good stuff.”
Cooper scooted past him. McKenzie, with Gracie on her hip, followed. “Praise the Lord. I thought…” She didn’t finish, and he figured he knew why. The nerd and Aria stopped next to him. “Sir, is there room for all of us down there?”
“Sure, it’s big for a storm cellar. Pop built it himself.”
“Aria, come look!” His sister called from the shadows. “Meems left us baby formula and real diapers and plastic pants and even some jars of baby food. This is great!”
Al descended into the cellar. The beauty smiled at Jackson and put her hand on his forearm as she eased past. A tingle ran up his arm down to the pit of his stomach. He looked to the dog. “You coming in or not?”
Boggs turned his back then sat down, like he’d assigned himself to guard duty. Jackson ruffled his fur and bent to give his thick sides a series of hearty pats. “You’re a good dog. No, a great one!” Then he joined the others, too. They’d spread out, examining all the stuff that rested on the shelves that lined every wall.
His sister looked around. “So where’s Uncle Roy’s farm again? I remember going once, but –”
“Outside Clarksville, east of here.”
Aria turned toward him holding up a Ball jar of Meems’ home-canned peaches. “How far is that? You’ve been there, right?”
“A couple of times.” He grinned. “Less than an hour if we could take Pop’s truck.”
“Very funny.” McKenzie shook her head. “And by our new standard of travel?”
“I’m thinking around sixty miles; maybe forty-five or fifty, but we’ll check the map. It’ll take us at least a couple of days.”
She tapped on the baby’s chin and used that silly voice of hers. “Well, hadn’t we best get going then? Huh? Yes, we should. Isn’t that right?”
“No, Googoo Gaga Queen. I think we ought to all get some rest and start out again tonight.”
“Oh, come on, Brother. We’re so close, and I want to see Meems.”
“I’m fine to push on, sir.”
“What about you, Aria?”
She looked tired, but smiled. “I’ll be fine. I can make it.”
He’d like to rest from traveling himself, maybe even spend the whole night there, sleep in a bed, but it might be smart to go ahead and press on to Uncle Roy’s, especially since Pop considered it the thing to do. With more than five hours of daylight left, he might even add three more days to the journey.
If everyone else wanted to go… “Okay then. I’ll bring the cart around, and y’all can pack it up.”
It amazed him how little effort it took to pull the cart. The looters had run off and left it on his grandparents’ property. Guess that made it theirs, so he’d decided he could take it as his own. Wheels looked like a bicycle’s and the tires still held air. Sure didn’t make any sense to leave it.
Once loaded and having checked the map, Jackson returned the Mason jar with the key and the metal box with Pop’s note to their hiding spots. He then gave the old home place one last look over, hoping it wouldn’t be long before he’d see it again. He’d always loved picturing his mom growing up there.
Maybe they could all come back together.
Or would that ever be possible?
The longer he lived in this new world of no electricity, no transportation, no stores, and so much lawlessness and disorder, the less likely it seemed that things would ever be back to the old normal.
He shook off the morose thoughts; had to keep going and get his people to safety. Hopefully, that meant his great-Uncle Roy’s ranch.
Surely they’d be there.
He handed Cooper the rifle and grabbed the cart’s handles. “I’ll take the first turn. Let’s head back toward the high-lines.”
Little Gracie sat up in the cushioned spot the girls had fixed up for her with feather pillows and Meems’ quilts in the oversized stroller. She fussed some but soon quieted down once he got to rolling. She smiled and giggled and looked all around, talking her own special gibberish.
“See? She loves riding.” Aria put her hands together under her chin and talked with the silly voice. “You do, don’t you, sweet baby?”
What was it with girls? The little one sucked in air and clapped with the dark-skinned beauty.
McKenzie waved and spoke like she was six months old herself. “Yes, she does! Hi, sweetie. You love not having to be carried, don’t you, peep?” She nodded to Aria and raised her eyebrows. “But not as much as we enjoy it, right?”
The girls laughed together. Everyone’s spirits were light again, even after the disappointment of Meems and Pop not being there and having to go farther. That alone lifted his spirits. Renewed hope…such a good thing.
The gravel road took them to the King’s Highway. Why the old man had called it that remained a mystery. Didn’t guess it mattered though. Jackson liked the name well enough. Once off the road, the going got harder, especially pulling the cart across the farm fields that had been recently plowed. After what he figured to be an hour or more, he stopped.
Gracie whimpered once then snuggled back into her soft bed for a nap. McKenzie covered her with a light blanket. “I’ll take a turn now.”
“Good, I was about to suggest that.” He grinned at his sister, appreciating that she didn’t sass him at every turn. And she was always willing to help; he had to give her that. He took the rifle from Cooper then rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck. Maybe that cart hadn’t been such a good idea after all. He didn’t much like being a beast of burden.
And after taking a turn at it, he figured his sister would change her mind, too.
She pulled then stopped after a half-dozen steps or so. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
“Here, let me help.” Aria took one pole, and McKenzie scooted to the outside of the other. “Ready?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
Half an hour later, give or take a quarter, Al and Cooper gave the girls a break and took a turn pulling. When the nerd and his brother slowed to almost a crawl, Jackson relieved them before he was ready. Seemed to him the time not having to carry his pack didn’t make up for the extra effort of pulling that cart.
On the other hand, he hadn’t been helping carry the baby. And she definitely liked the cart more. She’d hardly fussed at all the whole evening.
Long after his turn should have been over, he kept at it. His legs burned, his back ached, and his hands wanted to do anything else, but the girls hadn’t been able to keep up much of a pace. And the nerd and his brother proved even worse—which he didn’t think possible. Just as the sun touched the treetops, the high-lines stretched across the four-lane blacktop.
He turned north and pulled the cart into a clump of trees fifty yards or so off the cleared path—at least a couple of hundred yards from the real highway.
He eased the poles to the ground. “Al, what’s the moon doing tonight?”
The nerd did his memory searching thing then smiled. “Moonrise will occur at eleven twenty-six.”
Jackson took the rifle back from Cooper again then searched the sky. Pretty cloudless, only a few high ones. “What quarter will it be in?”
“First. I’d anticipate sufficient illumination for travel, sir.”
“Okay. Let’s grab something to eat here, and everyone get some sleep. We’ll pull out at moonrise-thirty.”
McKenzie glared at him like she wanted to argue about traveling at night, but instead she picked up Gracie then pulled out her pack from under the makeshift baby bed. “Can we have a fire?”
“Small one should be fine.”
“I’ll gather some kindling and sticks.” Cooper took off deeper into the woods.
“Wait up,” Al called after him. “I’ll help.”
After splurging on a fine feast of three MREs, a good hunk each of the homemade beef jerky Pop had left for them, and some of Meems’ awesome sweet peaches, Jackson settled in for a nap with strict orders for McKenzie to wake him before she lay down. As she was told, she shook him after what seemed like only a few minutes, but night had fallen.
“Sorry, Brother, but I can barely keep my eyes open.”
“No problem.” He stood and stretched. “Go ahead and get some rest. I’ve got it.”
“Thanks.” She eased close. “You know, I’m so tired. Can’t we just sleep the night through here? We didn’t have any trouble or anything, and we’re in the country. Why do we have to travel at night again?”
Explain, explain, explain. Why did she always have to ask him why?
“We are only about ten miles or so from Paris, Sis. It’s the last big city we’ll have to go through. If we take Eighty-two, we can be on the other side of town before the sun gets up. And that cart should be a lot easier to pull on the highway.”
“Oh, okay. Guess that makes sense.” She patted his arm. “I love you, Bro. Thanks for getting us this far.” Then she eased down on the quilt, where the baby slept next to Aria, and cuddled up to Gracie. She fell to sleep almost instantly if her night sounds proved a good indication.
A mess of coyotes howled out in the woods. Another lot answered from behind him. Sounded like a hundred of the mangy critters surrounded them. When he was little, they’d always put fear in his heart, but along with a certain fascination.
Afar off, Boggs’ deep rumbling bark comforted him. It moved across the blackness, silencing the wild canines as he went. It sure comforted Jackson to know that dog was out there on the job. After a few more howls, the night fell silent.
Shame he didn’t have a cup of sweet hot coffee. He didn’t, but no matter what, he had to stay awake.
Sloppy wetness on his cheek pulled him toward consciousness. He pried his eyes open. Boggs licked him again. Jackson jumped to his feet; the crescent moon peeked over the eastern horizon. Moonrise-thirty, or so it seemed to him. He leaned over and patted the dog’s shoulder. “Thanks, boy.”
The animal gave him his same old, silly grin like he knew exactly what he’d done. Maybe an alien after all? Jackson put who or what the dog was out of his mind. Such information was above his pay-grade as his father used to say. Dad…if only…. Jackson sighed. Might never see his father again.
His people needed to get to Uncle Roy’s. Then Jackson could rest.
Would they be safe there? Was there even such a place anymore?
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The cart glided over the asphalt like it had wings, well almost. Jackson took the first and longest turn, then the girls a half turn, then the boys a quarter turn, and then him again. Man, he had to bulk up both of those guys once… No, he let that thought die the death; couldn’t be planning on anything but putting one foot in front of the other right now.
Getting them past Paris before the sun rose, even before first light, was his present goal, and that’s what he had to put his alls on.
First light.
The only time he’d ever beat the sun up before all the craziness started was when he’d gone deer hunting with his father at Uncle Roy’s. Had to be in the stand early, while it was still plenty dark his uncle said, but you can’t shoot one until thirty minutes before sunrise. Jackson never dreamed hunting had so many rules.
He thought you just went out to the woods and shot them.
He learned all about even more rules the next year when he went to the gun safety class. After that, he got to sit in a stand all by himself, but he still hadn’t shot a deer. He’d seen a few, but no legal bucks, and he couldn’t bring himself to kill a doe. Didn’t like deer meat all that much anyway, and his father said you eat what you kill.
The camaraderie of the hunting cabin with all the men though, that was fun even if he didn’t think getting up so early was really worth it.
“Hey, Jackson.” Cooper pointed at a roadside sign. “Paris three miles.”
“Good.” He resisted the urge to run. Three miles; still an hour away. He glanced at the moon that remained on the rising side of overhead. If he got on the road at midnight, then it was probably only about two. So what did he have? Another four hours of darkness? He glanced around. The nerd walked next to McKenzie. “Hey, Al.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What time is sunrise today?”
With that recalling memory expression of his, he turned his face to the sky then smiled. “Six fifty-three.”
Jackson nodded then stretched out his stride. If he pushed it, they should make Reno, maybe even Blossom, before everyone got up and about. Surely, there would be somewhere they could hole up in one of the little towns, whichever one they got to. Reno sat right up next to Paris on the far side. Blossom only a few miles farther. What a funny name for a town.
He thought on names for a while, but the burn in his legs and ache in his shoulder soon crowded out all other thoughts. The road dipped down, crossed a creek, then rose toward an overpass. Man, that was quick. Then it dawned on him that the sign measured to downtown Paris, not the outside loop he needed to take.
An arrow on the highway sign pointed left for going to Clarksville.
On the map, it looked about the same distance either way, but he remembered turning the opposite way and asking Pop why he’d gone the wrong way when the sign said to go left. Pop had told him that the southern route didn’t have as many traffic lights and businesses. He pulled the cart to the right.
“Hey, genius, where do you think you’re going? Cause that way is not the way to Clarksville.”
He closed his eyes, stretched his neck, and huffed. “I know you think you are so much smarter, McKenzie, but I have actually been here before and know which way’s best.”
“But the sign clearly said Clarksville was the other way.”
“It’s either way, Sis. Why do you think they call it
a loop?”
She didn’t say another word, so she must have either figured it out or decided to trust him. He hadn’t meant to make her sound like a dunce, but the girl flat drove him crazy sometimes thinking she knew it all. Maybe someone as smart as Al would be the only kind she’d ever be able to get along with.
The cart proved to be a huge help on the asphalt, and he didn’t feel bad about turning it over to the girls after the first overpass ramp. A bit after Paris’ deserted new high school complex, the boys took the job. Way too soon, his turn came around, and he was back, dragging the cart, dodging the dead trucks and cars. Would they ever run again?
The nerd walked beside him, carrying the rifle. “Seems to me, sir, if we had canvas shoulder straps, analogous to those enlisted by those men who towed the Phoenix in that old Gary Cooper film, logic suggests our efforts would be eased. Perhaps we might appropriate several seatbelts from some of these abandoned vehicles, stitch them together.”
He glanced at McKenzie as though because she was female, she carried a sewing kit in her backpack. Jackson smiled at the guy. “A leather harness and any beast of burden would be even better.”
“Boggs could do it.” Cooper walked up next to the nerd.
“For sure, but I wouldn’t want to be the one to try hooking him up.” The image of some idiot wrestling a harness on the huge white ball of fur tickled Jackson; he’d hate to ever be on the receiving side of Boggs’ wrath.
“Wouldn’t be no trouble. He’d do it for me.”
He glanced at his little brother and nodded. “No doubt.” He made a mental note to ask Cooper—once it was just the two of them—why Al carried the twenty-two.
The highway looped back north, and he handed the cart’s poles over to the girls again. Man, he needed a sit down. Then again, if he sat, he couldn’t promise to get back up. After a quarter mile or so, the road rose sharply going over another highway. He and the boys helped get the cart up and over, then there it was.