by Bobby Akart
She began to wail in grief. The traumatic experience of another death of someone she loved overwhelmed her.
Jake dropped to his knees and hugged her. He didn’t try to calm her down. That would’ve been unfair to her. Instead, he hugged her, and they cried together.
At some point, the doctor said he’d leave them alone for a minute and he stepped out of the office. Jake and Ashby hardly noticed as they wrapped their grief into one bundle. Their tears wouldn’t stop flowing.
After several more minutes, Jake took Dusty’s tee shirt and wiped Ashby’s face off. He turned his chair to be directly across from hers.
“Ashby, there are no words that I can say right now. I am so sorry this has happened. There are so many things I wish I’d done differently.”
She shook her head and squeezed his hands. “No, Jake. Their blood is on my hands. Their families entrusted me with their lives. I took them around the world and put them in harm’s way. Worse, I saw it coming. I knew it. I should’ve sent them away sooner.”
She began to sob again and said, “My god, what have I done?”
They both cried and held one another for a couple of minutes before a gentle knocking on the door preceded the doctor returning.
“I wanted to check on you folks. Is there anything I can get you? Some water? Maybe a sedative? I could send someone over to the church and see if they have a grief counselor available.”
Ashby wiped the tears away. Her eyes were swollen and bloodshot. Her nose wouldn’t stop running. “Is he still here? Can we see him?”
The doctor furrowed his brow and thought for a moment. “Um, of course. His body is in the diagnostics room for the moment. The owners of the local crematorium at the funeral home are on their way.”
Jake and Ashby stood and followed the doctor to the dimly lit room at the end of the corridor. Once inside, he slowly pulled the sheet back to reveal Dusty’s peaceful face.
“I’ll leave you alone with him for a minute,” the doctor said as he exited the room.
Ashby leaned over Dusty and gently kissed his cold forehead. “Dusty, I don’t want to say goodbye to you. I wish we’d had just one more day to enjoy your laughter, your love of life, and your ability to take each day one at a time. You and Rita meant so much to me, more than anyone I’ve ever worked with. You two had become my family, like a little brother and sister who constantly needed supervision.”
Ashby managed a smile between tears. Then she laughed a little. “I never could tell if you two hated each other or were secretly in love. Deep down, I believe that you two cared for one another despite all of the fussiness and nitpicking. I’ll miss you both. You may be gone, but you’ll both be in my heart and soul forever. Goodbye, buddy.”
Ashby rose and fell into Jake’s arms. She began to cry again, but it was not as raw and emotional as before.
Jake whispered to her, “They loved you, Ashby, as do I. You gave them your passion and devotion, and in return, they absolutely adored and respected you. It’s not fair that their lives were cut short, but while they lived it with you, they were at their happiest. I could tell that from the moment we all met.”
She sniffled and responded, “This was the first time I’ve been able to say goodbye. Every time someone I loved was taken from me, it happened so fast, so unexpectedly. Even Dusty. But at least I could touch his chubby face and hope his soul could hear me.”
“There’s one thing for certain,” Jake began. He gently touched her on the chest. “Your hearts will always be one. You will forever carry the love of your parents, Rita, and Dusty right here. They’ll give you strength when you need it, and peace when you feel down.”
She held on for another moment and then she pulled away. After a deep breath, she said, “Jake, it’s time to go. Right now. Tonight. I need to leave all of this behind and start a new life with you.”
PART FOUR
The Long and Winding Road
Chapter 43
Challis, Idaho
By the time Jake and Ashby returned to their room at the Holiday Lodge, the five-minute walk gave Jake an opportunity to clear his head and place Dusty’s emotional death aside. Their day had started facing a bear, followed by a potentially fatal, misguided ride in a powerless vehicle down a mountain, and culminated with Dusty’s death. The last thing they needed to do was load up in a motor home to drive on the dark, ash-covered mountainous roads. After some gentle persuasion, Ashby succumbed to logic and fell asleep within minutes of her head hitting the pillow.
For Jake, sleep didn’t come easy at first. For one thing, it was stifling hot in their motel room. Neither of them trusted the air-filtration system associated with the window air-conditioning unit. Even if they slept with their masks on, there was the possibility the mask would inadvertently come off.
The respiratory failure suffered by Dusty was a grim reminder that the air was no longer breathable, and over time, it would get worse. He recalled his quick trip to West Yellowstone that day. He’d had a gut feeling and decided to follow it. During his trip to the drugstore, he’d tried to apply common sense to his purchases. The N95 particulate masks were his single best purchase. They’d be worth their weight in gold as people began to realize how the deteriorating air quality would eventually kill them.
Then his mind turned to the road ahead. He had his Garmin GPS device, as well as their cell phones, which he’d charge while they slept. They would aid him along the way. He also had a U.S. atlas to work with. It wouldn’t necessarily show him all the county roads available to them on their route, but it would provide him a big picture of their options, something that was hard to do on the small handheld devices.
Their route would take them in a west-southwest direction to the north of Boise, through Oregon and then dip into California for the final run to the coast. Considering they were in a motor home and the first several miles of the trip would go through snow-like conditions, Jake expected the trip to take three days.
They’d take the conditions as they came. He anticipated the ash would dissipate the farther west they traveled. He also hoped the Bounder made it through the fallout. The methods employed by the mechanic at Salmon River Motors were untested, although well-reasoned. Even if the gas-guzzling beast couldn’t make it the entire trip to the Mad House, it would serve their purpose of providing food and shelter during the worst of the drive.
The diesel engine would consume about nine miles per gallon under normal circumstances. However, the terrain and road conditions would knock that down considerably. The fuel gauge level read just under half full, which was most likely around forty gallons or so. Jake would have to learn more from the manual, but his best guess was that they could make it into Oregon after their first day of travel.
As he stared at the ceiling, he tried to turn off his brain but was not having much success. They were venturing into the unknown at a potentially dangerous time. From some of the scenes depicted on the news reports, the populated areas of the country were not faring so well. Panic had stricken the heartland.
He’d determined long ago that Americans didn’t handle stress very well. He chuckled to himself as he said aloud, “We’re too coddled.”
When he was growing up, his mother had insisted he wear a helmet and knee pads when he rode his bike. In fact, if he recalled, the helmet was required by law in Santa Clara County, where he grew up and his parents still owned a home. The area around San Jose was the cultural and political center of Silicon Valley. Its local government was full of contradictory laws.
On the one hand, it encouraged free expression by children and adults. On the other hand, it placed restrictions on how people lived, for their own good. Politicians in the San Francisco Bay area were firmly convinced they knew how their constituents should take care of themselves better than the people themselves.
He recalled his father ridiculing his mother over the helmet and knee pad thing. She’d argue it was for Jake’s protection and it was the law. His father predicted his s
on would grow up to be soft, as if he’d been lobotomized of his manhood.
It was during these early years that Jake began to understand what growing up in a household under the umbrella of a loveless marriage was like. His father always put his business over family. His mother refused to stand up for what she believed because dear old dad held the purse strings, doling out funds to run the household like they were a privilege, not a necessity.
Jake grew to resent them both during his formative teenage years. He looked at his father as a tyrant who couldn’t be bothered to compliment his son for any achievements. As for his mother, despite the love they shared, as he grew older, he realized her lack of backbone in dealing with his dad had a profound impact on Jake’s life, resulting in the family becoming estranged from one another.
He tossed and turned in the bed, trying to shake his mind away from these negative thoughts so he could catch some sleep. He stared at the glowing red LED clock by his bedside. It was just after midnight, and here he was, going down the rabbit hole of reliving the past conflicts with his family.
Maybe going to California isn’t the best idea after all.
*****
“Jake, wake up.”
The voice of an angel.
An angel that shook him.
“Are you awake? Jake.”
“What? What?” he replied.
“Hey, the power’s out.”
“Good to know,” he grumbled as he rolled over and tried to hold on to the last vestiges of sleep.
“I know, but it’s daylight outside. It’s almost nine o’clock.”
“Ashby,” mumbled Jake through his pillow. He tried to plead for a compromise. “Just five more minutes.”
She shook him again.
He contemplated whacking her with a pillow.
“Okay. Okay.”
She stopped shaking him, but her intent was still there. “Come on. I did some calculating and figured we could get there by dark. If we drive sixty miles an hour for thirteen hours, we’d be almost there. Okay, it might be somewhat after dark, but pretty close.”
“Ashby, it isn’t gonna be—”
“I know.” Her voice suddenly changed. She had psyched herself up to make it through the day. Jake now understood. “At least we could make it to Oregon. You know, out of Idaho.”
Jake took a deep breath and sighed. She was right. It was time to go and put the past behind them.
Chapter 44
Salmon-Challis National Forest
East of Challis, Idaho
Dystopian. A single word that conjured up different visions for people when they imagined a world without power, and with burned-out buildings, roads littered with abandoned cars, and few signs of life.
Travel was slow through the two-foot-deep drifts of ash, which continued to fall on the fourth day of Yellowstone’s initial eruption. A potentially scenic drive alongside the Salmon River at the base of mountain peaks that rose into the sky was shrouded in a dystopian landscape in which the sun was eclipsed by ash fallout and the surroundings were concealed due to lack of visibility.
As soon as they turned on the highway out of Challis, Jake applauded himself for sleeping at the motel the night before. It would be impossible to see at night, as the headlights would’ve simply reflected their light back into his eyes. Visibility was so poor that morning due to thirty-mile-an-hour winds blowing through the valley that he was forced to maintain a low, safe speed.
The other problem was the stalled cars. As engines seized from the ash particles entering the mechanical workings of vehicles, some drivers didn’t have the presence of mind to pull over to the shoulder of the road. There were numerous instances of parked vehicles suddenly appearing in the lane with their hoods raised and abandoned. To make matters worse, oncoming motorists would apparently stop to lend a hand, resulting in their vehicles stalling as well. Jake could only imagine what the roads looked like in more populated areas.
Ashby had taken on the role of navigator. She’d found Post-it notes and highlighters in the glove box of the motor home. After Jake cautioned her not to run down the batteries on their cell phones and the Garmin, she found an extension cord under the sink and stretched it from an outlet to the front seat so she could use the GPS on her phone while she studied the map.
From time to time, she attempted to dial several of her colleagues in LA and Corvallis at Oregon State. There was no cell phone reception, or the cell towers were down. She was glad the GPS function on her cell phone triangulated directly to the satellites orbiting the planet.
“I’ve got a radio station!”
Ashby startled Jake, as he was deep in thought, making sure he didn’t plow the Bounder into the back of a car. He didn’t want to tamp down Ashby’s enthusiasm as she took on the role of navigator, but her sudden outburst sent a jolt through his system. He really was on edge, and not just because of the driving conditions. It was something he couldn’t put his finger on, but he was certain it would reveal itself in due time.
The AM radio station crackled with static as Ashby tried to adjust the dial to tune it in better. The thirty-year-old radio didn’t produce the best reception and sound, but it provided them some news from around the country.
“For the third day in a row, stock markets on Wall Street have remained closed. In Chicago, the Mercantile Exchange closed as the governor of Illinois ordered the National Guard into the city to restore order. Rioting broke out within twenty-four hours of the Yellowstone eruption as grocery stores ran out of food and banks refused to honor depositor withdrawals.
“When the state of Illinois was unable to replenish balances on the unemployed’s KeyBank debit cards, residents of Englewood, Riverdale, and West Garfield Park took out their frustrations on businesses and fellow residents alike. Law enforcement and first responders were told to stand down as gun battles ensued throughout these crime-ridden communities. The mayor is concerned about the health hazards associated with the dead bodies that litter the streets, while the governor sided with members of law enforcement who were afraid to enter what is considered to be a war zone.
“Meanwhile, in other news …”
Ashby turned the radio down and pulled her heels up under her thighs to sit more upright in the passenger’s seat. The padded cushion of her seat was worn down from years of use, causing the springs underneath to make the ride less than comfortable.
“Do you think it’s like this all over? It’s a little early for the ash to impact Chicago.”
“Chicago was on the verge of being lawless anyway,” replied Jake. “The problem, as you know, is more than the amount of ash fallout in a given location. It’s our just-in-time economy and America’s insistence at convenience that causes the kind of collapse the announcer just described.”
Ashby pointed ahead to a tractor trailer rig parked on the side of the road. Its emergency lights were flashing, and Jake slowed as they approached. He pulled alongside the cab and Ashby stretched to look inside. It appeared empty.
“He might be sleeping,” she said before turning back to Jake, who continued to make his point.
“Places like Challis are the exception, not the norm. I’ve been a little bit worried about this to the point it kept me up ’til after midnight. People will become desperate, Ashby. Fathers have mouths to feed. The sick will be desperate for medications. Think about it. If the transportation system, like that eighteen-wheeler back there or the one at the supermarket in Challis, gets stranded, drugstores don’t get restocked. People need their medications, and when word gets out that there’s an issue, the sick will take matters into their own hands by breaking in.”
“Not to mention the drug addicts will be looking for opioids and other mind-altering drugs,” she added.
“I hate to say it, but I have a pretty pessimistic view of my fellow man. Just before I left LA in ’07, rioters tore up the city in the area around MacArthur Park.”
“I kinda remember that, but I was at college in Oregon at the time a
nd didn’t really pay attention. What was it about?”
Jake rolled his eyes and shook his head. “The protestors got together on May Day, which was, of course, May 1, in MacArthur Park. The park is in Westlake near Wilshire Boulevard. It’s a nice area. There’s a spring-fed lake with glass-bottom boats and—”
“Wait, I know exactly where it is,” interrupted Ashby as she slapped the dashboard. “Did you ever see the movie Volcano with Tommy Lee Jones and Anne Heche? Like twenty years ago or more?”
“I don’t remember it,” replied Jake.
“Anyway, the movie began with lava flowing through the subway system under MacArthur Park. It was geologically impossible but made good drama for the movie. In fact, the whole movie was far-fetched, but only people like me would notice. So, anyway. Sorry. Go ahead.”
Jake laughed and smiled. She had her endearing moments that he couldn’t get enough of.
“Sooo, the protestors gathered, demanding dignity, respect, and amnesty for illegal aliens. The protest got out of control, intentionally spilled onto the streets to block traffic, and the protestors became violent. They were throwing rocks and bottles at passersby, and later at the police when they showed up.”
“What happened?”
“Chaos. Melee. Destruction. All of the above. Thirteen million dollars in damage, and lots of full emergency rooms. Here’s my point. This country has lived on the edge of collapse since the sixties. Everyone thinks of the hippies of that time period as peaceful, dope-smoking flower children. They grew up to become rabble-rousing activists, and their children followed in their footsteps. With each generation since the sixties, our country has fallen slowly into the abyss.”
Ashby stared at him for a moment or two and then shook her head. “Well, Jake Wheeler, this is a side of you I’ve never seen. That little rant was very, um, philosophical.”