Under the Gray Skies

by Jacqueline Druga

  “Are you still writing in that journal?” Madison asked, in a whisper.

  “Yeah, I write something every day. I just started notes to my family.”

  “What are you saying to them?”

  “I just told my daughter about Ruth,” I said. “My husband about you. My son about your sons.”

  “That’s nice. Silly, but nice.”

  “Why is it silly?”

  “What if you lose the journal?” she asked.

  “I won’t.”

  “But what if you do?”

  “Then I’ll look at it as …”

  “Shh!” Someone called out.

  “Sorry,” I said, then lowered my voice. “I’ll look at it as therapy.”

  “And if you don’t lose it, won’t you look silly to your family?”

  “No,” I said. “Why would I. My husband would love it. My daughter too. Wouldn’t yours?”

  “Bruce would make fun of me. Tease me about being so mushy. I had a blog …”

  “Shh,” the voice hollered at us again.

  Madison rolled to her stomach and continued, “I had a blog. He used to poke fun of it.”

  “That’s because he was jealous because he didn’t do it.”

  Madison laughed. “I feel very good about this.”

  “Me, too.”

  “When I met you, I was convinced my family was dead,” she said. “Thank you.”

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  “Yeah you did. You believed that there was more out here. You kept me from being negative.”

  “Shh.”

  “Oh my God,” Madison looked over her shoulder. “Shh. Yourself.”

  “We should be quiet,” I said.

  “Yeah you should,” the deeper and raspy voice called.

  Madison looked at me. “I thought we were in the women’s tent.”

  “You are.” The same person said. “I’m a woman.”

  Madison widened her eyes. “Anyhow … Did you ever go to camp?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “I never did.”

  “I did. Once. I got kicked out.”

  “You got kicked out? Why?”

  “Talking.”

  The voice in the darkness called out, “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

  “Why don’t you go back to sleep?” Madison said.

  As soon as Madison said that I knew we were in some sort of trouble, I heard the fast rustling of a nylon sleeping bag and then three thumping steps.

  I looked up to see a towering woman with shorter hair. Though the tent was dark, there was enough light from the heater to see she was not only tall, but well toned. She stood above us and even though she only wore a tank top and underwear, she was pretty intimidating.

  “And why don’t you go to sleep?” she demanded.

  “Aren’t you cold?” Madison asked. “It’s freezing in this tent and …”

  “No!” she blasted. “I’m tired. I go all day and night. I need to sleep! This isn’t a fucking slumber party. Aren’t you ladies a little too old to be chatting like teenagers?”

  “I’ll have you know,” Madison said, “I am only ...”

  “I don’t care!” She leaned down bringing her face close to Madison. “I don’t … care. Now shut up and go to sleep, or take it somewhere else. Got it?”

  The moment she turned and walked away, I did ‘get it’. I sat up and suggested to Madison that we go sit with Ruth.

  It was nice to have a little freedom at night, to move around, even if it was to another tent. The camp was well lit and the darkness didn’t seem as thick and frightening.

  We visited and stayed with Ruth for a long time, until we felt tired enough to try sleeping again. It wasn’t a very long or restful sleep. Three times I was shook from my sleep by quaking ground. The first two were small, the third one was so violent, there was no going back to sleep.

  I sat on the edge of my cot dressing. Madison walked to the entrance.

  “Something is going on out there. Everyone is rushing.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Like they’re moving out.”

  “For real?” I lifted my sweatshirt over my head and reached for my sneakers. I saw from the corner of my eye, Madison step back and Major Graham enter the tent.

  I stood.

  “Ladies,” he said. “I guess you see all the commotion out there.”

  “What’s going on?” Madison asked.

  “We suffered a lot of damage after that last quake. We’re gonna move out more people than we expected today. Your friend, Ruth included.”

  “Where are they going?” I questioned. “And please don’t say south.”

  He cleared his throat. “South. But …” he lifted his hand. “Some will go to El Paso, Ruth and the others to Laredo. Neither are long-term for them. Just until we can move them to various areas farther south. There are several ships due in from Venezuela coming in from the gulf that will take a lot of refugees. Those camps in Texas will stay as long as possible. I’ll eventually be in Laredo, and will keep an eye out for news of your families. That’s the best I can do.”

  I dropped down to the cot. “You weren’t able to find anything out?’

  He shook his head. “No. No I wasn’t. I’m sorry. I’ll try, just one more time to convince you to get on one of those buses, or stay here until we move to Laredo?”

  “Not me,” Madison said. “I really believe I need to head home.”

  “Me, too.”

  Graham nodded once. “That’s what I thought you would say. You … you’ll need provisions.” He gave us a once over with his eyes landing on my shoes. “And that footwear isn’t going to cut it. I’ll see what I can find for you ladies.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “Ruth and Estaban will be getting on a bus within the hour, you may want to say goodbye.” He walked back to the door of the tent and stopped. “Look.” He turned around and seemed hesitant about saying anything. “A lot of my people are moving out with those buses. I have very few volunteers. You seem like pretty determined women. I have four short staffed scouting parties going out. Two to the north, one east, one west. They’ll go to small towns, canvass the streets, calling out, looking for survivors, and spreading the word about moving south. Sergeants Callister and Stone are willing to take you along if you are willing to help them. They’re going toward Dallas, then Kansas City and will take you as far as Mt. Carmel.”

  Madison gasped. “That’s my home.”

  “Yeah, I know. When they told me the route… I asked,” he said. “That’s their last stop before heading south again. If you go, it’ll be a heck of lot quicker than going on your own. It may be some work for you, but …”

  Without consulting Madison, I blurted out, “Yes.” Then retracted. “I mean … if you’re willing?” I asked Madison.

  “Without a doubt,” Madison said. “Then if Bruce for some reason is still there, which I can see because he’s hard headed, he’ll rig something for us to get to your family. Weirton isn’t that far from there.”

  “Good,” Graham said. “Come and find me after you say goodbye to Ruth and I’ll get you outfitted and on the road. Stone and Callister are leaving on the hour.”

  It was positive news that we now weren’t going to have to walk or find our own vehicle to get close to home. There wasn’t time to celebrate the good news as we had to hurry if we wanted to see Ruth off.

  It was a good thing we rushed.

  The camp was really buzzing and people moved about hurriedly, tearing some tents down, carrying boxes, loading trucks. It was as if they were running from something, evacuating from some sort of impending doom.

  We made it to the medical tent pretty quickly, but even then, they were already carrying Ruth on a stretcher to the bus.

  We had to run to stop them. Stevie saw us and moved the stretcher to the side.

  “Hey,” I said to Ruth. She was wrapped tightly in blankets, her tiny face peeked through th
e folds of fabrics. “We almost didn’t get to say goodbye.”

  “It’s not goodbye,” she said. “It’s see you soon.”

  I leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. “Thank you for teaching us so much. You take care of yourself. And you …” I looked at Stevie. “Take care of her.”

  “She won’t leave my sight.”

  Madison waved her finger at him. “She better not. Or you’ll answer to me when I see you again.” She too leaned over and kissed Ruth, saying her own goodbye.

  The bus was leaving soon, and so we were rushed in our goodbye. I was grateful for knowing Ruth and planned to write a special note about her in my journal.

  The last thing she told us before getting on the bus was, “Find your families.”

  We would. I knew it. We would.

  We stayed there watching that bus until it was gone and then we sought out Major Graham.

  He stuffed our bags with items he believed we’d need, especially after the two soldiers left us. He also gave us coats, hats, gloves, thicker clothing and special long underwear to save for when we really needed them.

  Major Graham was a good man. He didn’t need to help us. He could have just let us go and wished us well. But he didn’t. I would be forever in his debt.

  In fact I went on and on about him and Madison joked that she was certain he’d get a whole page in my notebook.

  Major Graham wished us luck, bid us farewell and had to go about his day. He told us to wait by the tan Humvee for Stone and Callister.

  It didn’t look like a normal Humvee. It had a plow on it, and an extended back like a pickup truck. The back was filled with supplies and gas cans.

  “You our new recruits?” I felt a smack to my back and watched the man toss a duffle in the back of the Humvee. “I’m Sergeant Stone.”

  Sergeant Stone reminded me of a gruffer, slightly older version of Major Graham.

  “As soon as Callie gets here, we’ll head out.” He paused. “First Sergeant Callister.”

  I nodded that I understood.

  “I’m getting her started, you might as well jump in.” He opened a back door then got in the driver’s seat.

  I slid in first, then Madison. I wondered if she was as nervous as I was. Then no sooner were we in, Sergeant Callister opened the passenger side and peered back at us. It was none other than the same woman who scolded us the night before.

  Madison exhaled so loudly I heard it. “Oh, boy,’ she said.

  If I thought Sergeant Callister looked threatening in her underwear, it was nothing compared to how intimidating she looked in full uniform, holding an assault rifle.

  She got in and slammed the door.

  “Hey, Callie,” Stone said. “Did you meet …?”

  “We met,” she said. “Drive.”

  “Okay.” He started the engine.

  I looked at Madison. Not only was it going to be an interesting journey, it was probably going to be a quiet one as well.

  TWENTY-TWO – VEER

  The plan was to head east toward Laredo, then north. There was supposed to be an expedient camp just a few miles west of the city. Stone informed us that we had to check out smaller towns, encourage people to move south, and look for displaced citizens.

  A huge problem was the amount of daylight. It couldn’t even be considered daylight. It loomed overhead, the temperatures still hadn’t plummeted in Arizona, although they hovered around fifty.

  Stone didn’t run or need to run the heat in the Humvee. We stopped after two hours to add more gas, then kept going until we stopped for the night. If we drove straight, we would have made a lot of distance, but we stopped frequently. Each town and area resembling the previous one. Gray and abandoned.

  Just before arriving at the Arizona and New Mexico border, we ran into our first obstacle, and it was a big one.

  Stone stopped the vehicle just in time. The highway dropped off. The overpass section that extended over a small canyon had fallen. There was no way around, or through.

  All of us stepped out.

  Immediately, Callie, the woman without words, whipped out a map and spread it on the hood.

  “What do you got?” Stone asked, looking over her shoulder.

  “Just looking.”

  So was I. Not at the map but at everything around us. The ash was lighter and that was a hopeful thing for me.

  “You okay?” Madison asked.

  “Yeah, just looking out. Thinking. Wondering if those who are trying to go south get stuck because of things like this.” I pointed to the road, then turned to listen to what Callie and Stone were discussing.

  “We could ...” Stone said. “Back track this length of the highway, looks like twenty miles, head south then east and trek north. Or go north and head east …”

  “We were on a direct path. Back peddling, going north then south, it’s a waste of time and fuel. Are we picking up anything at that camp?”

  Stone shook his head. “No. We’re just the scouting party for any survivors.”

  “Then they’re on their own.” Callie rolled up the map. “Let scrap it and head to Kansas. We have about four small towns to check. We aren’t reaching them before nightfall.”

  “Want to check out a place on the map. Make a stopping point?” Stone asked.

  “We can set a destination stop but … if dark hits first, we’ll just bunk in the truck.”

  “Deal,” he said and stepped back to the driver’s door.

  Callie walked from the hood and looked at us. It seemed like she almost forgot we were there. Maybe because every time one of us talked, she cleared her throat and made it feel uncomfortable. I wasn’t complaining though, we had a ride a good bit of the way. That was more than we could have hoped or even planned for when we decided not to go south with the bus.

  The biggest mistake we made, once we backtracked the twenty miles was opting to stay north instead of veering east when we saw the exit thirty miles into the northern route.

  Madison suggested it. The roads were only lightly covered with a dusting of ash when we sat at a sign for an east bound highway. “Maybe we should get off and go east,” Madison said. “Kansas is north and east of here. It may not be a good idea to keep going north.”

  Neither Stone or Callie responded. Her words fell on deaf ears.

  “Major Graham said you volunteered to take us. Why?” I asked. “I mean if you aren’t gonna talk to us or listen, why did you agree to take us.”

  Callie looked over her shoulder at me. “You’re bodies that will help us look through towns. No more. No less. We don’t need to include you. We’re taking you … remember. We’re doing you a favor.”

  With a quiet whispering, “Wow,” I sat back.

  “What is your name?” Madison asked.

  “Which one of us?” Callie replied.

  “You. What’s your first name?”

  “Mine’s Bill if you care,” Stone said.

  “Why does it matter?” Callie asked.

  “I’m curious,” Madison said.

  With a huff, Callie answered. “Mary.”

  “Mary, huh? Why are you so angry?” Madison asked. “I mean aside from us talking, why are you so angry?”

  “Really? You have to ask that?” Callie snapped. “Have you looked outside?’

  “That’s out of our control. We can be upset, sad, depressed, just anger isn’t …”

  “I can be whatever I want, Madison. Who are you to tell me how I can or cannot feel? I can be mad, bitter,” Callie nearly growled and faced the front of the car, not looking back at us and she went off. “Wait. No ‘can be’ about it, I am mad that this is happening. Surprise my ass. They say, ‘oh we only had twelve hours.’ Yeah, well maybe if I had that twelve hours warning I could have left town. Maybe if I had twelve hours, I wouldn’t have been in our house when it folded under that quake. When our roof collapsed right on us. When it missed me and hit my husband who was holding our son.”

  “Callie …” Stone tried
to cut her off.

  “No, she asked,” Callie said. “She can talk to me about anger when she holds her dying child in her arms and there’s nothing she can do about it.”

  “Callie.’ Stone was firm.

  Softly, Madison peeped out. “I have.” Then she grabbed and cradled that locket and lowered her head.

  In that immediate tense silence, I reached out and grabbed Madison’s hand.

  Callie cleared her throat and spoke the words as if she struggled to say them. “I’m sorry for that. For your loss.”

  “I’m sorry for yours, too. I am,” Madison said.

  Then the quiet resumed.

  It wasn’t for long, though, within another twenty miles, the ash was so deep, Stone lowered the plow.

  “Stop,” Callie instructed. “Just stop.”

  “No ... we’ll just … go,” Stone said.

  “It’s getting worse. Stop,” Callie said. “Turn around and find that last exit east.”

  “We’re wasting daylight.”

  “Then we waste daylight!” Callie yelled. “It’s better than wasting our lives because we get trapped and buried. Turn it around.”

  Stone did. He stopped and carefully backed up and turned around. It didn’t take long to get out of that deep ash. I watched as Callie marked the map, shading in the area on the map we had just driven from.

  The deep ash was closer than we anticipated. Which had me wondering how far north and east it really went.

  NOTEBOOK – DAY TWENTY-ONE

  Jana,

  Well, right now we are sitting in the middle of a road. I don’t know if it’s a side street, major roadway or what. It is so dark. The ash has given everything sound proofing. It’s really weird. The two soldiers taking us are not very talkative. I guess they have––

  TWENTY-TWO – CRUSHED

  When there’s no power, no moon visible, there is nothing. The world becomes a void, an infinite blank space.

  Stone wanted to push forward, but even I grew nervous. The headlights did nothing, and the spotlights didn’t help either. There were no white lines to follow, the light covering on the road made it impossible to tell which direction to drive. Which way the road turned.