by Ray Gorham
People nodded their agreement and rapidly filed out of Doug’s basement, heading off on foot, bicycle, or horse, leaving just the council members behind.
“Aren’t you all glad you signed up for this?” Gabe asked, shaking his head. “Looks like we’ve got some work to do. Can you meet Tuesday?”
“What else is there to do?” asked Carol Jeffries, the vet.
“Probably not much, but I hate to assume. Lets plan on Tuesday at my house. Same time.”
Jennifer was heading for the door when Doug grabbed her arm. “Could you stick around for a couple of minutes? I want to talk to you for a second.”
“Sure, no problem,” she replied and sat back down.
Doug spoke with the others as they left, then sat in a chair close to Jennifer. “I hope I didn’t say anything that offended you during the meeting today. I get worked up sometimes. Guess I’m a little hot-headed, but some people just say stupid things.”
“My dad was a truck driver, and occasionally I rode with him during the summers. I learned from those experiences not to let things people say offend me.”
“That’s a relief. Listen, I wanted to see how you’re doing, in your situation. It’s got to be tough taking care of your kids alone.”
“It is, but we’re making it. David’s a big help, and we’re starting to get routines figured out.”
“I’m really sorry about your husband,” Doug said, his face solemn. “I heard what happened to him”
Jennifer felt her breath catch in her chest at the mention of Kyle. “What do you mean by that?” she shot back defensively.
“Well, I heard he was flying when the attack happened, and I’ve heard what was said about airplanes. I suppose I assumed the worst.”
“We don’t know anything, Doug, just that he’s not here.” Jennifer could feel herself getting angry, and she stood to leave. “I hope you’re not implying that he’s dead, because I don’t believe that.”
“I’m sorry.” Doug stood up and put a hand on her shoulder. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, I’m just trying to be a friend. I wanted to tell you that I admire how strong you’re being.” He stepped closer to her, putting his arm around her shoulders. “And I want you to know that if you need anything, you can ask me. I’ll be there for you.”
Jennifer wiped at her eyes and pulled away. “Thanks for the offer, Doug. I’ll make a note of it.” She walked across the kitchen, fighting her emotions. “I’ve got to get home to my kids,” she said as she walked out the door.
“I’m sorry, Jennifer,” Doug called out, catching the door before it shut. “If you need anything, let me know. I’d like to help.”
Lubbock, Texas
Kyle pulled his cart through the heart of Lubbock, his senses alert for any signs of trouble. The freeway dipped under the cross streets, and Kyle found it easier to take the frontage road to avoid the constant rising and falling of the freeway.
Lubbock was far different from what he’d experienced in the small towns. There was more activity in the streets, and when the occasional car passed by, its occupants studied him closely. Kyle concealed his gun in the cart, hoping not to appear threatening, and picked up his pace in an effort to get out of the city as soon as possible. Signs of looting were everywhere, and though he worried about his dwindling food supply, Kyle was too anxious to stop and search for food.
The streets were filled with cars that had been abandoned where they died, which meant that pulling the cart required winding through frozen traffic and occasionally up onto the sidewalk. The scene had been similar driving with Ed through Houston, but walking in it in broad daylight, through a city that had literally been stopped in its tracks, was a different experience. All makes and models of cars were abandoned in the streets, a few with windows broken out. Some had been pushed to the side of the street, but for the most part they just sat as they were nine days before.
As he walked past vehicles backed up at an intersection, Kyle wondered what it would have been like to be sitting in your car when everything died. He imagined sitting at a traffic light and suddenly the car dies. Looking around, you see that people in the cars surrounding you are also experiencing problems. Then you notice that the traffic lights are out, and cross traffic has rolled to a stop. Eventually you climb out of your car, not sure what to do. Ironically, your cell phone doesn’t work either. The radio might work, but stations aren’t broadcasting, so all you get is static. Everything around you is dead, but there is nothing to indicate a problem -- no flashes, no explosions, and no violent impact that would explain the dramatic change.
How long, he wondered, would people have sat there before they decided to leave? How hard would it be to abandon your car? He noticed that most of the cars were locked, indicating the owners were expecting to come back and retrieve them, preferably in one piece. When Kyle passed cars from out of state he wondered how those drivers were dealing with the situation. Perhaps they accounted for some of the walkers he’d met. He’d been fortunate to have Ed, but what would he have done if there hadn’t been someone to help him? What if a family was traveling? Where do four or five people go when you don’t know anyone, and everyone is desperate? How do you survive?
His mind weaved around those topics as he weaved around the frozen traffic, the faint sounds of the city playing in the background. He passed block after block and was lost in thought when the sound of footsteps caught his attention. Kyle turned and noticed three men a block behind, walking the same direction he was. There was nothing threatening about them, but he felt a spark of fear shoot through him.
Kyle picked up his pace, but knew that if it came to it, he wouldn’t be able to outrun the men with his cart in tow. He also knew he couldn’t abandon his possessions if he hoped to make it to Montana. He told himself that he was just being paranoid, that in another block or two they would turn off on some side street and he would again be alone. He glanced over his shoulder, hoping they had turned, but instead saw that they were closing the gap. He picked up his pace until he was almost at a jog, the blisters on his feet throbbing with each step. He ignored the pain and pushed himself as hard as he could.
Looking over his shoulder once more, he saw the men angling across the street towards him at a run. He glanced around frantically for some kind of protection, but the area was commercial and it wasn’t as if shoppers were wandering the sidewalks or police were on patrol. He’d passed a few people several blocks back, but none of them had looked like anyone to approach for assistance. Kyle looked back again. The men were close now.
Kyle slowed to a walk and tried to catch his breath. The sound of their footsteps got louder, and he momentarily considered trying to grab his gun, but decided against it. Maybe he was just overreacting, he thought, and what if they were armed? One against three wasn’t very good odds. Maybe, he hoped, they weren’t going to do anything. Maybe they were just curious. He clung to those thoughts.
“Hey, amigo. What’s the hurry?” one of the men called out as they approached.
Kyle kept pulling and didn’t answer.
“What’s wrong?” asked another. “We’re the Lubbock Welcoming Committee. You look like you’re from out of town, so we need to welcome you. Maybe we could be of assistance.” The two others laughed at this line, finding it immensely funny.
Kyle spoke over his shoulder as he pulled. “I’m doing fine,” he said. “Just passing through town, but I appreciate the offer.”
The men had now caught up to Kyle and were looking over the sides of the cart. “Glad to hear you’ve got things under control,” the third man said. He was closer to Kyle and appeared to be the leader. “I guess we’ll just collect our toll, and you can be on your way.”
“I don’t have any money,” said Kyle. “I lost my wallet last week, but I’d give you all my cash if I had any.”
“What do we need cash for?” the man asked. “Cash isn’t any good to us. We’ll take a look and tell you what we want.”
Kyle could feel som
eone tugging on the cart, so he lurched forward and pulled the cart free.
“Hey, slow down, buddy,” the leader said. “No need to make this difficult. We’re reasonable guys.”
“Sorry,” said Kyle. “I’ve got a long ways to go, so I’m going to need everything. Maybe next time.” He could feel someone pulling on his cart again and strained to break it free. As he pulled, Kyle felt a hand grab his arm. His heart was pounding, and his hands and legs trembled as adrenaline rushed through his body.
“I told you that I need what I’ve got,” Kyle said, jerking his arm free. “Just leave me alone. I’ve got a family to get home to.”
He pulled harder on the cart, but the three men were too strong. They forced the cart to a stop and Kyle finally gave up the tug of war. Two of them held the cart and the third started to rummage through the contents.
“Give us your food, and we’ll let you go,” the leader said. “This can be really easy.”
Kyle dropped the handle of the cart and watched the men dig through his things. He felt impotent as his possessions were carelessly tossed on the ground.
One of the men handed the leader a bottle of water. “Hector,” he snickered, “I think this guy is going to start crying.” Then he burst out laughing.
“See, I told you this would be easy,” Hector sneered at Kyle as he tossed the tent out of the way. “You’ll figure something out. We need stuff too, you know. Besides, why hurry home? Your wife’s probably busy sleeping with the neighbors for food, and I bet she’s got the pantry stocked. Probably thinks your dead or something.”
The two holding the cart burst into laughter. One of them started making sounds of pleasure. “Oh baby, faster, faster,” he moaned.
The second one chimed in with a comment about how much she was charging and sent the three men into hysterics.
Kyle stepped in front of the cart, watching them take what he needed to survive while trying to ignore their taunts. He could feel rage mixing with his fear, tightening his chest. The two holding the cart joined in the search and continued badgering him with vulgar comments about his family.
They were drinking his water, eating his food, and talking about his wife doing group sessions when Kyle snapped. He lunged for Hector, whose head was turned, and punched him hard, catching him on the back of the head. Caught off guard like that, Hector’s head snapped to the side, and he stumbled away. Kyle followed and swung again, this time hitting Hector with a blow to the chin, but lost his footing and stumbled into Hector, knocking him to the ground. Kyle caught himself and kicked at him, catching him in the stomach just as he was tackled to the ground from behind.
Kyle and his tackler tumbled and twisted on the hot asphalt, the rocks grinding into their arms and legs. The man held Kyle tightly around the waist, but Kyle managed to twist towards the man and pummeled him around the eyes and nose with five or six sharp blows until the man released his grip.
Kyle rolled over and scrambled to his feet, but as he turned back towards his assailants, the third man was on him, his fist connecting hard with Kyle’s cheek. Stars exploded in Kyle’s head and he staggered backwards, struggling to stay on his feet. He turned to the source of the blow and raised his arms in front of his face, but a second blow caught him square in the stomach and knocked the wind out of him. Kyle doubled over and dropped to a knee, fighting to catch his breath.
Another punch connected with the side of Kyle’s nose, causing a loud popping sound, followed by a stream of blood flowing from his right nostril. The man stepped back as Kyle finally caught his breath and took in some big gulps of air, choking on his blood. Kyle regained his footing and retreated lamely towards a blue pickup on the far side of the road. The first two men were back on their feet and walking towards Kyle as the third man circled to his right. One man’s nose pumped a steady crimson stream, leaving large red stains on the front of his shirt. They were all angry, and Kyle knew there was no way he was going to be able to talk his way out of the situation.
The man closest to Kyle lunged at him and pushed him towards the truck. Kyle flailed his arm out to catch himself, hitting the hood of the truck as the back of his head cracked against the side mirror. He rubbed his head and wiped blood from his face while shuffling back along the truck and watching his attackers close in on him, no longer interested in his cart.
Desperate, Kyle spun to his left and started to run, hoping the men would let him be and just take the things in his cart, his desire to survive outweighing everything else. He sprinted down the street, barely able to see through his swollen, watery eyes, furiously pumping his arms, not knowing where he was headed, but just wanting to get far away. A half block down the road, he looked over his shoulder, praying the men had given up, but found instead, that Hector and his cohorts were in full pursuit, with Hector only a few steps behind Kyle and closing. Kyle veered to the left and tried to slip between two vehicles but lost his footing and collided heavily with a minivan.
Hector skidded to a stop and grabbed the back of Kyle’s shirt and shoved him face first against the hood of the van. “Where you going, tough guy?” he yelled. “You did a bad thing, now you’re going to pay.” He leaned in close to Kyle’s ear, panting from his run. “Hope the Mrs. isn’t too particular about how her man looks, ‘cause she might not recognize you, if you make it home.”
The other two caught up and Hector barked out orders. “Grab his arms!” he yelled. “Turn him around so I can see his face!”
They yanked Kyle away from the van and turned him towards the center of the street, bending Kyle’s arms painfully to keep him from struggling. Hector swung at Kyle with a sweeping right hook, landing it on the left side of Kyle’s face and wrenching Kyle’s head violently to the side. Blood and saliva flew from Kyle’s mouth, splattering the man holding Kyle’s right arm. The man cursed as he wiped the fluids from his face. Another punch connected, hitting Kyle in the eye and snapping his head backwards. As the adrenaline wore off, the pain became overwhelming, with every nerve in his body simultaneously firing signals of distress. A punch to the stomach caused him to retch.
Kyle kicked feebly at Hector, who was standing close by after the last blow, and managed to connect weakly with his thigh.
“Get him on his knees,” Hector demanded as he stepped back and wiped blood from the corner of his mouth. “I’ll show you how a kick is supposed to feel. I wasn’t planning on getting this rough with you, but you don’t know how the game works.”
The men holding Kyle forced him down on his knees, laughing at Kyle’s vain attempts to resist. Kyle saw movement to his left; a fourth man running towards them. He didn’t want to die five days into his journey on the streets of Lubbock, but he resigned himself to his fate.
A boot connected with Kyle’s cheek and everything around him began to spin. His head rolled forward limply, and the bright afternoon sunlight dissolved to black as the hands holding him let go, and he collapsed forward onto the blistering street.
Deer Creek, Montana
“I don’t think he thought about how it would come across,” said Grace. “Guys don’t clue in on those things.”
Jennifer had left Doug’s and gone straight to the Anderson’s house. During the past week and a half, now that phone calls to her mother and sister weren’t an option and her social network had been disrupted, Jennifer had found herself at her neighbors’ quite often, and Grace had become her sounding board.
“I know he probably didn’t mean for it to sound like it did, but the way he said it hit me hard….Do you think Kyle’s dead?”
Grace smiled in her grandmotherly way. “Does it matter what anyone else thinks?” she asked.
“No, but maybe it would help me know what to expect when I talk to people. I think Kyle’s alive, and I’ve just assumed everyone else thinks the same. Does that make people think I’m in denial?”
“Of course not, dear. There’s no reason not to think he’s alive. That would be far worse than holding out hope. I think he’s alive.
And one of these days, when you aren’t expecting it, he’ll come walking through your door and wrap you up in his arms. Trust me.”
Jennifer smiled. “I hope you’re right. I wish he’d get here soon, because I really need that right now.”
“Just you be patient, sweetie,” said Chuck from the other room. Jennifer looked at Chuck, who had been reading. “I don’t mean to listen in on your conversation, but it was more interesting than my book.”
Jennifer laughed.
“Well, like I said,” he continued, “you just be patient. For all we know, he’s going to have to walk here from Texas. That’s a long way and a tough journey, but any man worth his salt would do it for his family. I don’t know your husband very well, just spoke to him a couple of times, but if he’s smart enough to marry a woman like you, I’m sure he’s smart enough to figure out a way to get home. He’s probably on his way, and I bet he can’t wait to get here.”
“Thanks, Chuck,” Jennifer said as she wiped her nose. “Kyle is a good man. I’m not going to give up.”
“Now another thing,” Chuck said as he leaned forward. “Watch out for that Doug fellow. I don’t trust him.”
“What do you mean? Doug? He’s harmless. He was just trying to be nice.”
Chuck got up and came into the room. “Maybe, but you still need to be careful. I’ve worked with too many guys who are just like him. They act all nice and stuff but are after one thing, and once they get it, they brag about it like they’ve conquered Everest. It used to make me sick.”
“I’ll be careful, Dad,” said Jennifer. “Thanks for worrying about me.”
“I think he misses his daughters,” Grace said to Jennifer. “Before the event, he called them up every Sunday to check on them. It was sweet when they were young and single, but they’re over forty now, and he’s still doing it. Calls his granddaughters too, and they’re starting to have kids. He’s got a soft spot for his girls, and it looks like you’ve been adopted into the family.” Grace gave Chuck a look and a knowing tilt of the head, like a mother would a child she was gently reprimanding.