Under the Gray Skies

by Jacqueline Druga

  “I wouldn’t doubt it.”

  Madison was thrilled and I was thrilled for her. She not only received confirmation that her family was well, but also they didn’t doubt for one second, she wasn’t alive. I hoped my family was the same that they believed in my survival, because I believed so much in theirs.

  <><><><><>

  Del, as I started to call him, invited us to camp with him. Madison immediately accepted, forming an instant bond that made me just a little envious.

  What were the odds? She knew him. Half a country from home, the world falling apart and she finds someone that is a friend and a business associate of her husband.

  Somehow though, knowing Madison, that didn’t surprise me.

  I wanted to write in my journal, and though Del had a campfire, there wasn’t as much protection from the dust and elements as the Humvee.

  It was half a mile away from Del’s house.

  Callie declined without hesitation. “I really don’t feel comfortable with everything we have being left in that truck.”

  “I can promise you I haven’t seen a person in hundreds of miles,” he said.

  “Yeah, well, we did,” Callie said. “And they weren’t good people.”

  “I understand,” he said.

  “Plus, I have a friend still at the truck,” Callie said.

  She was referring to Stone. Callie didn’t elaborate on that friend, but when I walked back to the Humvee with her, I guessed that Madison would fill him in.

  It was cold, really cold. My fingers were tingling from it, and I just wanted to get warm.

  When we arrived at the Humvee, Callie checked the back and Stone’s body.

  “Do you think she’ll be okay with him?” I asked.

  “Yes, I do.” Callie tossed me an extra blanket. This one was shiny. “That’ll keep you warm.”

  I looked around, the darkness ascended and the flood of cars and statue people faded into the black. It was so dark, I couldn’t see any hint of light from Del’s fire.

  The night would be long and I was still absorbing the fact that Stone had died. It was lost for a while when we found Del, yet returned with a vengeance once we got back to the Humvee.

  We retreated inside the vehicle for the night. I pulled out the lantern and notebook. I wrote a note to my husband Davis, telling him about Del and how I believed he, like Bruce, was waiting for me and protecting our family.

  I knew they were alive, I felt it. Would they be there when I arrived? Sitting waiting with a survival escape plan like Bruce?

  That, I didn’t know. Truth was, I had been gone for weeks and I was still half of a country away from getting home. Each short day and longer night, made that journey to find them seem a little less likely with each passing day.

  <><><><>

  Callie was up and about before the first hint of daylight crept in. As soon as it was semi light enough, she left to find Madison. She wanted to get on the road, make as much progress as she could, forgo small town sweeps and get to the camp outside of Kansas City as fast as she could. Stone’s death was a game changer. She actually even stated she thought about turning around and just returning to Arizona. It was closer to do that than keep going. I was glad she didn’t do that.

  I don’t know why, but I expected to see only Callie and Madison returning to the Humvee. I was surprised that Del decided to join us. After all it was a man who trekked across a barren country to find his family, then set up camp outside the house where all of them had died.

  To me he was done with life, settled, resolved possibly to die himself.

  He came with us. Deciding he would go south with those at the Kansas camp. He wanted to be on one of those ships. His life as he knew it was done and he needed to start anew.

  Madison seemed saddened by that. Mainly because once he boarded a bus, it was farewell. Like with Ruth, there would be an idea of where he would go. But there was no registry of survivors, or refugees. Once separated, once a goodbye was said, it was like death.

  That was it.

  Del was a lot less talkative in the Humvee when we left. He kept staring out the window. He grew sadder as we drove farther away. The reality of his lost family sinking in. He was leaving them again, only this time for good. Del seemed like a good guy. He wasn’t well and was troubled with an annoying cough that occasionally broke into a raging coughing fit.

  We all had a cough, that was a given, it was so common place, it was barely noticed. Del’s was. His was worse. It made me wonder how much he had absorbed into his lungs. Would it stop? Would any of us stop coughing?

  When there was no conversation, when I wasn’t writing in my notebook, all I did was have time to think.

  Think about what was, what would be.

  We were a day and a half from arriving at the Kansas camp. I hoped things would get better the farther east we drove. It seemed endless, ash covered roads in a gray dead world.

  I didn’t know what Kansas would bring, but I knew one thing. Once we arrived … I was halfway home.

  I focused on that.

  NOTEBOOK – DAY TWENTY-FIVE

  Davis – a side note,

  You know I have written all of you, each day. I say things, how I feel, what’s going on. I know they haven’t been much. It’s so hard to describe what I see out here.

  Today though, was genuinely the first time I was absolutely hopeful. See, I didn’t know for certain until today, that there was even a world left in the east.

  I know there is. I know you’re fine and I know that you believe I will find you.

  Lace

  TWENTY-SIX – THIEVERY

  The Kansas City camp wasn’t exactly in Kansas City, more on the outskirts. It was much larger than the one in Arizona, so large it was hard to see where it ended. A huge flow of people blocked the road, making their way there. It reminded me of the movie the Ten Commandments. People lugged belongings on carts, wagons, were bundled in heavy coats and blankets.

  While the ash and dust flow was more of a light dusting, and we could actually see colors, the temperature was cold. Much colder than we had experienced. Every hundred miles it dropped five degrees.

  Fortunately, we were in an authorized vehicle and permitted to go straight through. We weren’t looking for help, at least not like those who lined up for a mile.

  We pulled up to a checkpoint where an armed solider asked for identification.

  “I’m here for a refuel, reload,” Callie said.

  “You dropping off them?” the soldier asked.

  “No, they’re special volunteers,” Callie answered. “They help me. We’re EPAS Unit Nine out of Arizona. Command of Major Graham.”

  “I’m sorry. Not familiar with Graham. Still trying to get a grasp, on Emergency Patrol Units. But I know Nine is in the heavy Southwest shit.”

  “We are,” Callie said.

  He returned her identification. “You can pull through to the right. You’ll see the quarters for enlisted. Supply and refuel is behind it.”

  “Thank you,” Callie said.

  “EPAS?” I asked.

  “Emergency Patrol and Sweep,” Callie replied. “It’s new. Easier to keep track I guess cause there aren’t that many.” She pulled forward, telling us. “Let’s get the truck loaded before dark, have a hot meal, rest and leave first light. I don’t want to hang out here any longer than we have to.”

  I agreed. It was crowded. I could see, hear and feel the agitation and impatience.

  Once we parked, Callie engaged in conversation with another soldier who showed her where things were. After we removed Stone from the back and turned his body into command, all three of us helped her load up. In the middle of that, another soldier approached us.

  “Sergeant Callister,” he called out. “Hey, wanted to let you know, if your people want a boat pass, they gotta get over there. I can take them over to the line for the passes, but they don’t get one today, they’ll be waiting another two weeks.”

  “Thanks.” Cal
lie nodded to us to go with him.

  Neither Madison nor I were getting on a ship any time soon, but if we could get passes for the boats leaving in two weeks, we could get them for our families as well.

  “How does this work?” I asked as we followed him.

  “Each of the camps were issued only so many passes for each ship,” he replied. “There are seven ships leaving ports in four days. After that, the next wave of ships is August seventh, then the twenty first.”

  It took me a second to realize it and I looked at the date. It was the twentieth of July. July. The sky looked like a major snow storm approached and the air felt it. Hard to believe it was the middle of the summer.

  Del asked, “What do you mean ports? Where are they?”

  “Depends what color pass you get. Some Texas, Mexico, Virginia, Florida. It depends.”

  “And you’re bringing people there?” I questioned.

  “Not the East Coast from here. No. Those are evacuation ports. People evacuated or were part of an exodus, or even just made it there on their own. For as long as we can we are looking for people,” he said. “Getting them to port as fast as possible.”

  “Must be hard,” Madison said. “Having to stop at night.”

  He shook his head. “Nah, we don’t stop. Convoy buses have huge spotlights, lights the way. We push through.”

  “It has to be dangerous,” Madison said.

  “Not really. You get adjusted to driving in it. Now, farther east, you get a few more daylight hours. Night is black, but you get longer days. Sky’s still covered. Not like this.” He peered up. “And certainly not like it is more west.”

  To me, that was good to hear. We could make more progress with more light.

  He stopped and pointed to an area of tables. “You want to go over there, pick a table. Lines all look the same. They’ll announce when they are on the August round.”

  There were several tables with lines extended out. People pushed and shoved, it was hard for the soldiers to keep order and fights to a minimum. I could see it. I felt bad for them. They probably didn’t want to be ‘serving their country’ anymore than people wanted to leave their country or homes. It had to be done. People had to survive. All was being done that could be, the pushing and shoving wasn’t going to make it any better.

  “One more thing,” Madison said. “If let’s say we wanted to get on a boat from Virginia. How would we do that?”

  He laughed. “Why would you want to do that? Buses are leaving from here.”

  Before Madison could explain our entire plight to find our families, I gave a short version. One that wouldn’t be ridiculed. “We’re civilian volunteers,” I said. “Last I knew we were headed east looking for people.”

  With an ‘ah’, he lifted his chin. “Then you’d get them off a patrol or a camp out that way. If you’re going east, chances are you’ll be given a block of passes to give out to any survivors you find. I mean that’s the way I understand it to work.”

  We thanked him and walked to a line. Not that we were getting passes, but we wanted to check. Who knew? Maybe the soldier was unaware they had the Virginia ship passes.

  We picked the first table.

  Twice during our wait in the line, Callie came over to check on us. The camp was so well lit, it was hard to tell that it was night.

  There was a woman with three small children in line ahead of us. One of the children bounced on her hip and she kept shifting the child from left to right. I didn’t understand why she had them waiting in line. Was there no one that could watch them? It had to be exhausting for her. They were well behaved but still it was a lot. I was impressed at how well they did. They were all under five years old.

  Madison and I took turns holding the youngest child, chasing the toddler when she ran off, it passed the time.

  I wasn’t sure it helped her much.

  The woman’s name was Marcy and she told us she was from Hayes, Kansas. She made the trip to the camp with her children in the back of a military truck when her own car broke down on the road en route “My husband was trying to locate his brother and family,” Marcy said. “He will be here. I wish he’d hurry. They say the bus leaves tomorrow.”

  “Why don’t you wait until he gets here?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “What if he comes tonight and they’re all out of passes for next ships. I don’t think I can wait two weeks.”

  “I understand that,” I said. “He’ll make it. He’ll be here soon.”

  Finally we were close, next actually. The man at the desk hollered, “Next.”

  Marcy with the children stepped forward.

  “Red or green, that’s all I have left for Seven-twenty-five.”

  “Were do they go?” Marcy asked.

  “Does it matter? I mean, destination isn’t as important as survival, right. This isn’t vacation. Just pick a color. Or you can go with Eight-seven and have your pick.”

  “No,” she shook her head. “I want them safe as soon as possible. I’ll take five.”

  “I only see four of you.”

  “My husband is coming.”

  “Is he in the camp somewhere, I need to see him,” said the man.

  “No. He’s on his way.”

  “Then I can’t give you a pass for him unless I physically see him.”

  “He’ll be here. He’s on his way. Please,” she begged. “Can you make an exception?”

  “Lady, if I do that for you, I have to do it for everyone. I know it doesn’t seem like a big deal, one pass, but it is. Suppose … God forbid, your husband doesn’t show up. That’s a wasted pass. Someone will sit behind for another two weeks. I’m sorry. Four or none.”

  She sighed out. “Four.”

  He took her name. It was good to see that there was some sort of record. From all we heard, there wasn’t.

  When we stepped forward the man said, “I have one Red left for Seven-twenty-five, if you all want to go together, you have to go green.”

  “We’re willing to wait,” Madison said. “I was just wondering do you have any passes for Virginia ships.”

  “Why in the world would you want to do that?” he asked. “Unless you’re going that way.”

  “We’re volunteers,” I said.

  “I don’t have them. I’m sorry. Once you cross into Illinois, you should be able to get one.”

  I thanked him then me and Madison stepped aside so that Del could get his pass.

  “Okay, we need a plan B,” Madison said. “What if we make it home, both of our families have been waiting on us, and we miss the ships?”

  “Ships are going out for a month.”

  “I know. I know,” Madison lifted her hand. “Let’s suppose that happens.”

  “Then we head south, as far south as we can, Texas into Mexico, that’s what we do.”

  “So you hold no illusion of waiting it out in the north.”

  “We’re in Kansas, It’s July. I’m freezing, I don’t want to think about Weirton and how cold it is getting there.”

  “Good, just wanted to make sure we were both thinking the same thing.”

  During our mini plan, Del returned and we went off to find Callie. It had been hours since we spoke to her. I envisioned her angry because we weren’t there to help. Instead, she looked upset, if I wasn’t mistaken, on the verge of tears.

  I knew better, it wasn’t tears, it was something else.

  “Everything okay?” I asked. “Can we do anything? I know we were in that line for …”

  “No, it’s fine,” she said. “The truck is packed, topped off and ready go …” She exhaled and sat on the cot. “South.”

  “Wait, what? South? I asked.

  “My orders have changed. Everyone’s orders have changed. Mt. Carmel has been canceled. If you aren’t already east or north east, you don’t go. They’re pulling all troops and National Guard for immediate relocation south. At zero eight hundred hours tomorrow, the exodus of all military emergency personnel begins
.”

  “The ships are going back and forth for the next month,” Madison said.

  Callie nodded. “And orders are to move everyone south and wait it out there.”

  “Why?” Madison asked.

  “Because it may not be dark, but it is cold. Too cold, they’re saying it will be uninhabitable in a week. If that.”

  My heart sunk. I could barely breathe listening to her words. We had travelled so far. We were three hundred and ninety miles from Mt. Carmel. One shot, one road. And the roads were good, not like they were farther west. They were passable, there was visibility, there were longer days. Yes, the sky was gloomy, but there was no ash haze. We were so close. One day. Just one day away …

  What now?

  What the fuck now?

  “I’m sorry,” Callie said. “I wanted to see this through with you guys. I did, it was a purpose for me.”

  “No.” Madison crouched before. “We can still be your purpose.”

  “The military is all I have now.”

  “Bullshit, you have us.”

  “I’m sorry. I was ordered south. I go south. There’s nothing I can do…” She stood. “There’s especially nothing I can do if at zero eight hundred hours, I report the truck stolen.”

  Attention caught.

  “Wait. What?” Madison asked.

  “There’s nothing I can do if you steal the truck.”

  “How will we do that?”

  “You go just before light. I’ll tell them you knocked me out.”

  Madison laughed as she looked up to Callie. “Yeah, I’m sure they’re gonna buy that. We will never get away with it.”

  “Yes, you will,” Callie nodded. “They won’t think twice about the truck rolling out until I tell them you stole it. I’ll wait to do so.”

  I closed my eyes and shook my head. “No. This is insane. Just steal the truck with us.”

  “I can’t do that,” Callie said. “I have an obligation and a lot of people need help. Yeah, I’d love to grab your families, but I have thousands of families out here that need help. It’s loaded, it’s ready. With the fuel surplus, you should make it at least to Weirton and head south. After that … I can’t tell you. Hunker down or hope to run into a military convoy heading south. If you don’t dally, you can beat this arctic front they say is coming.”