At last it was time to go, to head for home. The Captain, the XO and a number of the crew and base workers walked us to the pier. Before we began the climb down, the Captain had that surely Marine Sergeant hand us a couple of M-16s, and side arms and a case of ammunition.
“Hopefully ya’ll won’t be needin’ it, but I would not bet on it. Good luck and Godspeed, hope all’s well up in Romanica,” He said giving us a salute, all his men did.
We climbed down to the little boat, started the engine and we were off.
It was not so bad out on the water, between the ocean spray and the breeze we were fairly comfortable in the little boat as it bounced along the waves. We stayed close to shore, about 100 yards out once we got out into Long Island Sound. It took us about an hour to get from the base to the turn up the Connecticut River down by Saybrook.
As we moved along off shore, I could see parts of old Route 1. At this time of year it used to be packed with vacationers crowding into the little seafood restaurants. I thought back to what I called ‘fried everything platters’, actually they were the Captain’s Plate or the Seafood Platter, a little bit of everything fishy, breaded and deep fat fried. Oh, just one more time I thought.
“Asuna, did you ever get down this way for seafood?” I asked.
“No, we never had that much time to travel while we were in the classes at the Arsenal. Was it good?”
“Lenny and Joe’s Fish Tales…..only the best. No, wait, there was one place better, although the portions were smaller, that was Jasper White’s, it was in one of the casinos. They did something special with their breading on the fried clams,” I told her.
“Well, maybe in another lifetime you and I can visit it.” she said, and it gave me a kind of twinge. In another lifetime, where would I be, and who would be there with me? Would it be Anne, Asuna or maybe someone else, who knows?
It was a little before 2 o’clock when we started up the Connecticut River, the tide was on the way out so it was kind of slow going but once we got a mile or so in the effects of the outgoing tide diminished and we were able to move a little faster. But we were still going against the river, lazy and slow due to the lack of rain that was typical around this time of year.
We stopped at the marina in Essex and refilled our fuel tanks. We hadn’t used that much gas, but like the Sat-Commander said, better to fill up whenever we could. We found a couple of empty 5 gallon cans that we were also able to fill for a little extra.
It was about 3:20 when we left the marina and headed on. We hoped that we could maybe get to Middletown, or close, by the end of the day. But it turned out to be not so good on the river. We found that there were a lot of places where the river was very shallow and we had to work our way around these spots. We also had to be careful for submerged things, boats, stumps, and cars that had been swept down river.
We took turns driving the little boat. When not driving you were up front watching, looking for flotsam or underwater hazards. Often the hazard was given away by some change in the way the water appeared; a ripple in the flow might be the warning.
We had reached the area of the Goodspeed Opera House at about 7:30. It was still an hour or more until sunset but the shadows were making it difficult to see what was happening in the river. We decided that this was as good a place to spend the night as any. There was a little boat launch just north of the opera house and we beached the Zodiac.
It was quiet and kind of peaceful. The Earth, Mother Nature, was reclaiming her own. The pavement was broken and showing plants growing out of the cracks. The unkempt lawns were choked with weeds, and even small trees beginning to sprout up. In a way it was sad, humanity, civilization had come to this. But at the same time, it really kind of gives you a sense that life will continue, that we will comeback.
MRE’s for dinner tonight, not bad, actually pretty good compared to the bug and fungus mush from the Sky Crystal. We ended up sharing them, kind of half and half. Asuna had Chicken and Noodles and I picked Southwest Beef and Black Beans. The Beef one even had a little packet of Siracha Sauce with it. The pudding for dessert worked.
We have run into no Zoms, nor have we seen any all day long. I am pretty comfortable that we are not going to run into any. I am still more concerned with running into the living. But even there, we have seen no one.
After dark we settled in and looked at the stars, and listened to the night creatures. I suddenly began to chuckle.
“What?” asked Asuna.
“The noise, the critters, all that noise, and they all have one thing on their mind.” I answered. “Getting laid, they’re all trying to mate.”
I felt the punch in the arm, and the phrase in Japanese that basically told me I was an asshole, and then she laughed, and I laughed.
It felt good, good to laugh, good to be back on Earth, good to be with her.
August 2nd
The birds started early, I am thinking about 4AM, so much for sleep. It was getting light and we were up, a little of the trail mix the navy guys had supplied us with and we were back on the river. A coffee would have been nice, but not today.
As we moved along the river, it was a little easier, the water, or the channels ran a little deeper. We moved past Durham, and then came through the area of Middletown. There was another marina on the right hand side of the river, the Portland side. Again, we fueled up. It was only about 11 o’clock so it looked like we were going to make at least Windsor by the end of this day.
We have still not seen anyone, dead or alive. But then were we really expecting to?
We were on the river again by 11:30 and moved under the Arrigoni Bridge. We continued north on the river, by the old Rocky Hill Ferry and on to the Glastonbury area. We reached the South End of Hartford by 2 O’clock, and then continued on.
I began to think about the river ahead. I knew that although it would be good if we could reach Springfield, there were a couple of man-made barriers that would block our way, especially in this low water situation.
Asuna and I talked about it, and the options that we could use. We could just go as far on the Connecticut as we could and then wing it from there. A fair plan but I was not crazy about the prospect that we got to the edge of Springfield and then were faced with trying to move through parts of the city.
The other option was that we turn off on either the Westfield or the Farmington Rivers and try to get as far west as we could that way. I asked Winston to pull up maps of them both, but he couldn’t. The GPS still worked but the photo map type programs did not.
I thought about it for a while and suggested to Asuna that we turn up the Farmington River. I had remembered back to when we had made the rescue run of Anne’s parents, Cyril and Arcelia. We had used that route and it had been clear.
It seemed like a lifetime ago. It reminded me of the two of them arriving in the boat with Mark and Frank. They had brought their cats. That led to me thinking, wondering if Little Moo and Basement were still alive. I hate these thought cascades sometimes; but then, at times I also really like them.
We could take that route and beach at the golf course. There were some quarries within a couple of miles of the river and I was willing to bet that they would have some kind of motorized vehicle we could use. I smiled at the thought of arriving at Romanica in a big bucket loader, but figured more likely it would be some old dump truck.
We agreed that the Farmington seemed the best option and we turned onto it about 3:40. We cruised up the river, it was not too bad. There were some spots where we had to walk the Zodiac through because the water was not deep enough if we rode. But we got there. We were at the golf course by about 5:15.
We unloaded what we needed, the cure, some food and water, the weapons. We skipped the blanket, on land we could scavenge from the homes as we passed them by.
We walked east on Route 4 for the few miles to Quarry Road and started north. We hit the first quarry and looked around. We found a 1962 Ford F100 pick-up, rusty, looked like crap and it had a 6 c
ylinder engine, definitely not the big red Ford, the Coyote, that I once drove, but it would work if we could get it started.
The battery was dead but that turned out okay. It was parked on a hill, a good sized hill and maybe, just maybe roll it down, pop the clutch and …, it worked. We have a running truck.
We loaded our things into the truck and started back to Route 4. It was now 6:30ish, and I knew that we couldn’t make Romanica today so we decided that it would be best if we just held up in the area and took the fresh start in the morning.
“Asuna, I know a place we can stay.”
“Really? You do?”
“Yep, my dad’s place is close by, a few miles, it will give us a place, should be a safe place to spend the night and collect our thoughts. Tomorrow is going to be an interesting ride and hopefully we can make Romanica if there are not too many problems on the road.”
“Sounds good to me,” she said.
It was not long before we were there and in a number of ways I am now thinking that this was not a good idea. There were too many ghosts. I remembered the last visit, with Anne and Margo at the start of the end.
I remembered years ago, Sundays spent with my parents Teckla and Nick and the kids, memories that had long since gone away, or so I thought. Damn thought cascades!
We went through the house, it was clear, and there were no indications of Zoms or humans in the area. We also cleared the barn…. sorry, cop term, checked the area for bad things.
While we were in the barn we looked for things that might be of value to us on the trip. A chainsaw, a come-along, some chain, rope and a couple of axes were about all we found. Hopefully we would not need them, but who knows.
The power was out and I did not want to try to start the generator, if it would start, that was in the shed. Better to stay dark and unnoticed, if there was even anyone to notice that we were there.
We turned in after dark. As we lay in the bedroom upstairs, I couldn’t fall asleep, between the demons and ghosts of the past, and the creaks and groans of the house, it just wasn’t happening. Asuna, well, I listened to her gentle breathing as she slept, lucky girl.
August 3rd
It was early, like 6ish, Asuna was still sleeping; I looked at her and smiled. Outside I could hear a coyote yipping by the stream out back. At first, I didn’t think much of it, but the coyote kept it up, insistent, I looked out the window. It was a horde. There were about 25 Zoms ambling across the hay field. The grass was pretty tall and dry, so it slowed them a little. They were old, white hair, old people’s clothes, plaid on plaid, ugly dresses. I guessed they were from one of the elderly housing complexes that were in the area. But I was surprised that after this much time they were still moving.
“Asuna, wake up, we got to go.” I whispered while I gently shook her.
“What, Why?”
“Zoms, a shit load of them.”
She looked out the window, and shuttered, “Okay let’s roll,” as she put a determined look on her face.
We quietly crept out the front door and toward the truck. The house hid our movements from those in the field. I whispered for her to get ready with the truck, and that I would be right back. I raced to the barn and grabbed a couple gallon cans of paint thinner. Then I headed toward the fence line of the field. The fence would slow them down and I was going to try to give them an out for roaming until they fell apart.
I splashed the paint thinner along the edge of the field and lit it. Whoosh, the flames sprung to life and with the dried grass it spread like wildfire heading toward the Zoms, engulfing them. But I didn’t watch.
I ran to the truck, but Asuna was unable to get it to start. The battery was dead; I had turned the truck off but somehow flipped the ignition switch back on when I got out. Fortunately I had thought about battery problems and had left the truck on the street at the crest of the hill for easy access and just in case we had an issue, we could do a rolling start.
The smoke was thick in the mirrors as we rolled down the hill and away from the farm. The engine started and we drove out to Route 44. As we turned to the west, I realized the real impact of the fire I had started. It was going to run unchecked, and with the dryness, it would be bad. The farm, the fields, the forest nearby, and probably beyond were going to burn.
Asuna drove for about an hour, we had a number of places that we had to stop, clear large branches or broken cars from the road. We had only reached New Hartford by about 9 AM. At this rate Romanica was going to be a tomorrow reunion.
We moved along, and considered the options of the best route to travel the rest of the way home. Our options were to continue on Route 44 and then hit Route 7 up, or run the shorter Route 8. Both routes had the potential for blockages on the road, probably equal chances as I remembered each road. Route 8 would lead us by Otis, and I had seen the horde that had killed Uncle Elgin and the Camp Overrun crew about a year ago. But we reduced that horde, and it has been a year.
Asuna finally just said, “Pick one, and go for it.”
The Route 44 ride from New Harford to Winsted was actually pretty clear. But then it was mostly a four lane road and we were able to negotiate the downed trees, poles and broken cars with ease. As we reached Winsted and neared to the intersection of Route 8, I was still undecided on the route we would take. But then a small gray furry thing ran across the road in front of us and took off up Route 8. It was the sign I needed. A coyote, one had saved us from the horde in Canton, I would trust this one now.
We drove on and I found that same little gas station that we had visited early on, when we were rescuing Anne’s folks. We were able to suck, siphon and scrounge just enough gasoline, Hi-Test, to get our tank full. That should get us to Romanica.
We did find that there were a couple of spots where we had to spend some time clearing the road. In one case a very large fallen oak blocked the way. It was a couple of hours of chainsaw and winch work to open the path. And in the end we rolled in to Becket, actually just south of it at dusk. It would be no more travel for us tonight; Romanica would have to wait until tomorrow. It killed me because we were so close. But I was exhausted, and Asuna would not let me drive anymore.
We found a little house and crashed. I was out like a light after MRE’s.
August 4th (My Birthday)
We had left the windows open in the little house we stayed at last night. The birds started early and we were up at the ‘crack of ass’ as my police friend Langley used to say when we would work the midnight shift. So we were on the road early for the last leg of the trip. We might still make it for breakfast.
I drove, the road was open and we rolled into Romanica by 5:30. Actually, we stopped about a half mile from the camp and walked it. Driving in might have been a little un-nerving at that hour.
The camp was quiet, but it hadn’t changed much. We sat by the flagpole and just soaked up the morning, the air, the nature sounds and drifted in memories.
Finally at about 6:30, a little coyote came bounding out the door of Margo’s cabin and made a beeline for me. Then a girl poked her head out the door, it had been a while, and she had sprouted up, taller than I remembered, but still the same, my little girl.
She looked in our directions, slipped quickly back into the cabin and emerged moments later with a pistol, and dressed in pajamas. She looked, and it hit her: she ran to us, to me, crying.
“Good morning Margo” I smiled, “We didn’t want to wake anyone up, and so we figured we would just wait.”
“How, what, when, year, early,” she stammered through her tears, hugging me.
“A long story, is there any coffee?”
She blurted out between sobs, “no, Nick, Nick, he, gone”, and it hit me, things had happened, it wasn’t like it was. I stood for a moment as the sadness rushed over me. My brother, he was gone.
After a couple of moments I regained myself, “But you’re okay, that’s good, and Teckla, Matt, Mark?” I said.
“No, they’re good, just; there’s
so much to tell.” She sobbed, trying to regain her composure. Then she ran to the dinner bell and rang it twice.
People started falling out of their cabins, some with guns, some yawning, and some half-dressed. When they saw us, it was crazy, hugs, tears, questions.
The coyote, Margo told me that she had named it Lucy, had just sat down next to me while we were first talking, and then would not leave my side. Before we started toward the dining room I scrunched down toward her and rubbed her head, “I know you, I am sorry I’m late.”
Asuna wasn’t forgotten, she was getting as much attention in the return as I was, she was getting hugged and talked to as much as me.
“Margo, did you keep the journal going? Did you keep track?” I asked
“I did,” she replied.
Teckla and Tay galloped up and Teckla was off the horse and hugging me, she was in tears.
‘”Hey, its okay, I’m back.” I said as tears flowed freely from my eyes. There was a rush of both relief and sadness.
“Nick, Nick, is….”
“I know, Margo told me.” I had to walk away for a few minutes, it hit me, hard. They gave space; I think Teckla helped with that, it is our family way, ‘fight as a group, suffer alone’, only Lucy stayed with me.
After a few minutes I walked back over, hugged Teckla, then Margo, my eyes were still red. I took Asuna’s hand and said, “Hey what does someone have to do to get a cup of coffee around here?”
We walked to the dining hall; there would be a lot of talking and telling. Once inside, Jan put on some coffee, not the good stuff like we had on the ship, but it was kind of coffee.
First, Asuna and I listened to what had happened over the last year. Margo and Asuna sat next to me, Lucy lay at my feet. I, it was so good to have them there.
They, Matt, Teckla, Margo, began to share the events of what had happened since we had left. Matt told us about his pilgrimage to Rome, and the finds along the way, Chris, Helen and Linda Evans.
The Event Series (Book 3): The Archive and Beyond Page 12