“If I get tired, I’ll let you know. I’m good now.”
“And your leg. Long time to sit.”
“That’s fine, too.”
That was a lie. Sitting in the driver’s seat, in the same position, had produced a growing ache near his wound. He guessed that when he got out of the car, his limp would be back, at least until he loosened the muscles and wrapped up the area again tight with an Ace bandage.
The leg was better. Not perfect, though, and never would be.
Christie reached out and gave his other leg a squeeze, midthigh. Gentle, teasing.
“Good. Just remember, I’m here if you want a break.”
“Gotcha, boss.”
They drove on.
* * *
They passed a sign.
WELCOME TO ADIRONDACK STATE PARK.
Suddenly, the signs turned a rustic brown, themed to show that this region—the shops and towns and homes—was all part of protected land, the great state park.
About as close to wilderness as one could see anywhere near New York City.
But even in this wilderness, Jack saw signs of what had happened. Most of the majestic pines on the side of the road looked untouched, but whole patches of deciduous trees stood leafless, long dead. Almost as if some heatless, smokeless fire had snuffed them out.
Outside, it turned cool enough that he had turned off the AC. Windows open. The sweet smell of pine. The air pungent and cool.
Would the other trees ever come back?
Would whatever killed trees and plants across the country, and led to a blight that decimated the cattle, dairy, and poultry industries worldwide, ever end?
Some trees lived. Some died. Same thing with food crops and livestock.
The world scurried to adjust.
But not fast enough. Certainly not fast enough for the Can Heads, who had their own solution to the problem.
Christie turned to him.
“Smells so good.”
She didn’t point out the obvious: the disturbing leafless trees looking so eerie.
The kids had their faces at the windows. They certainly didn’t see this many trees back at their Staten Island development. And they could even see mountains, still in the distance, but already looking like an amazing backdrop from a film.
“Dad—all those trees. What happened?” Kate asked.
Jack shrugged. “Not sure, honey.”
He was tempted to add something, like Maybe not enough water. Or the obvious lie, a fire.
But Kate was smart.
Instead: “Something hurt them and not the others. I guess scientists are working on it, right?”
“Yeah, they sure are.”
And on all the other things that have happened to the planet.
“They look scary.”
Another nod. “Yeah. But look at those pines ahead. Big, hm? And the mountains.”
“The mountains are cool!” Simon said, leaning forward to get a better look at the peaks ahead. “Are we going up there?”
Christie turned around. “We go up a little ways. Paterville is on a hill surrounded by mountains.”
“Wow. Wish we could go to the top of one.”
“Maybe we could drive up,” Jack said, unaware if he could even make good on that offer.
Everyone grew quiet, looking at the mountains, distracted from the great stands of dead trees that alternated with the still-towering pines.
* * *
Christie kept looking at the mountains.
Except for bare patches, they looked ancient, untouched by time. For the first time since they left home, she felt that they were indeed “away.”
That was the whole point, wasn’t it? To get the kids away, Jack away… her. To leave what had become their daily life with its fears, its walls—what for her felt like a belt, tightening more every day.
Looking at the mountains, she felt something that she recognized was different. Freedom, hope, the idea of possibilities.
Then Kate’s voice snapped her out of her mental wandering among the peaks that, though obviously closer, still were so far away.
“Hey, is this near the camp? Looks weird here.”
“You never saw real mountains before,” Christie said.
“Hey—” Jack said.
Christie faced forward.
“There we go. Our exit, three miles ahead.”
Exit, Christie thought. Getting off the Northway.
Onto the smaller roads. The smaller towns.
“Good,” she said.
Not at all sure she meant it.
* * *
Jack slowed, hitting a series of severe speed bumps that signaled the way to the exit checkpoint.
Always checkpoints.
Christie read the bold signs, the letters big.
ATTENTION: YOU ARE NOW LEAVING THE EMERGENCY HIGHWAY AUTHORITY’S PROTECTION PLEASE HAVE YOUR TRAVEL DOCUMENTS READY TO SHOW THE OFFICER ON DUTY
Then, after another speed bump that had the kids laughing from the carnival ride effect, another sign:
BE PREPARED TO HAVE YOUR VEHICLE EXAMINED BY THE SAFETY OFFICER YOU WILL BE GIVEN CURRENT ROAD CONDITIONS AT THAT TIME
Road conditions. As if there was snow, branches down, flooding. The conditions the sign referred to had nothing to down with weather.
Another bump.
Christie scanned the booth ahead. A real metal barrier instead of a simple wooden bar to block cars. Guess the locals might be concerned about New York City riffraff sneaking into their pure, clean mountains. One guard in a booth and another standing to the side with a gun on his shoulder, his eyes locked on the car, scanning it.
Jack pulled up to the booth, opened the window, and looked up at the guard.
A nod and a smile, but the middle-aged man didn’t smile back. Could be he was a veteran. There were stories that the Highway Authority had been hiring vets. It took the pressure off the suddenly unemployed combat soldiers in a changed world.
More important, they could keep their cool and knew their way around automatic weapons.
This one didn’t look too happy.
Uniform unkempt. A stray stain here and there. Needed a shave. Squinting, narrow eyes in the late afternoon, but open enough so Jack could see they were bloodshot.
“Papers.” The guard said it as if measuring out exactly how many words he could use.
Christie passed the papers from the glove compartment.
Jack handed them over.
“Paterville,” the guard said. Jack caught the guard looking over to his partner.
“Yeah,” Jack said.
This time, Jack didn’t engage in any of the small talk. None of the I hear it’s nice… or never been there.
The guard looked over the papers.
Then:
“Got to check your vehicle. Mind stepping out?”
Stepping out? Jack had read nothing about that. He looked at the guard again—the messy uniform, the grizzled face. Had he read the guy right? Someone who didn’t care?
Then the guard added: “Just gotta check your safety precautions. Before we update you on the rest of your trip.”
“Okay.”
A quick glance at Christie. Nothing needed to be spoken.
Jack popped open the door. As he shut it, he heard Christie lock it behind him.
He walked alongside the guard as he looked over the modifications on the Explorer.
The guard turned to Jack. “Double-walled spun-steel hybrid tires?”
“Yup.”
“Set you back a pretty penny.” The guard knelt down. “And these things?” He tapped the metal plates in front and rear of each tire. “Good thinking there.”
The guard didn’t get up. Jack wondered: Does he do an inspection like this with every vehicle that leaves the highway?
Maybe it’s time to flash the badge.
“But I got to tell you. Even these tires can be brought down.”
“Not by a bullet.”
“Oh,
right. Sure. Not a single bullet. But you ever see those road chains? Two-, three-inch metal spikes, dozens of them on a chain? Could do real damage to even these tires.”
“Let’s hope I don’t run into any of them.”
The guard nodded and stood up, the effort of standing revealing that exercise wasn’t on his weekly agenda.
“You never know.”
The guard continued around to the front of the car. He smiled at the kids.
Or maybe it was a leer at Christie. With his face, it was hard to tell.
“Good front grill protection, and I imagine the body is all—”
“Reinforced steel. Special plate glass. Look, this gonna take much longer?”
The guard cocked his head.
“You in a rush? I’m just trying to do my job, Mr.—” he looked down at the papers “—Murphy. Just making sure you’re in good shape to head… up there.”
“Right.”
Jack took a breath and reached into his back pocket. The guard’s eyes followed him. Maybe smelling a tip? Did he supplement his income this way?
Jack flipped open the leather case, showing his shield.
“Whoa—NYPD. Guess you do know how to make a vehicle safe.” He took a few steps closer to Jack. “Imagine you got some weapons, too, hm?”
“A few.”
“We’re supposed to log any firearms.”
The guard held Jack’s gaze. “But fuck it. We’re in the same business, right? Right!”
As if…
“Okay, so I want to give you your road briefing… Officer. You’re leaving the highway now. Things will be different.”
* * *
“See, you take Nine-N to Eighty-six all the way to Paterville. Nice straight drive. And we haven’t had reports of any action in weeks.”
“Good to hear.”
“We know how to shoot up here. Still, you’ll bump into a bunch of checkpoints. Places where they’ll want you to stop. Ask where you’re going. Any latest news, that’s how you’ll hear.”
“And between the towns?”
The guard rubbed his chin.
“That’s where you gotta be careful. Don’t stop for anything. Keep your eyes open. With this vehicle, you should be in good shape. But it’s a no-man’s-land between the towns.”
“Thanks for the heads-up.”
The guard smiled. “In another hour or so, you’ll be at Paterville. Now, I hear those folks really know security. Good family place. So I heard.”
A nod.
“We done here?”
“Sure. Sure we are, Officer.”
The guard signaled to his partner. Slowly, the heavy duty barrier began to rise.
“You’re on your own now. Drive safe, be safe… take care of that lovely family you have in there.”
Jack walked back to the driver’s side. As soon as he grabbed the handle, Christie popped open the lock.
He slid in and shut the door.
The gate wasn’t quite all the way up.
“Dad,” Simon said, “can we finally go? This is boring.”
“Yeah. We’re all set,” Jack said. “Won’t be long now.”
The gate fully up, Jack gave the guard another glance, and left the protected world of the Northway for the weaving two-lane back road that would take them to Paterville.
15. The Mountains
“God, it’s like… everyone just left.”
Christie watched the deserted motels, bars, and ice cream and hot dog places—boarded up, some with windows and doors smashed, open to the elements—roll by.
Even the kids knew better than to ask if they could stop.
A pair of faded dancing bears advertised the Mountain View Chalet. Chunks of wood missing. For fuel, maybe? One bear with a gaping hole in its head. Target practice. The colors bleached by the elements and the sun.
Then a bar with a sign announcing FOOD SERVED ALL DAY.
The front door missing, all of the windows smashed.
“Guess nobody lives here anymore.”
“No tourists, no money.”
“Yet Paterville Camp survived.”
“Well, if they saw what was coming… if they took precautions, Paterville may be the only game in town now.”
Then Christie saw a handmade sign, big block letters dripping, on the side of the road.
APPROACHING DINGMAN’S FALLS. Then in smaller letters. BE PREPARED TO STOP!
Christie spoke quietly. “Did you know that there’d be so many of these stops?”
Jack shook his head. “Nothing in the brochure about them. No big deal.” Then: “Good to know that they’re trying to keep their towns safe.”
“If you say so.”
It was nearly four P.M.
They’d be at the camp soon. Time to wash up. And then sample some of the home-grown food that Paterville offered.
He passed a speed limit sign: 25 MPH. Get cars driving nice and slow through the town.
Just beyond it, a makeshift barrier—a sawhorse with a blinking yellow light at each end.
Jack slowed down.
He leaned over to Christie and whispered.
“God, what is this? Deliverance?”
But Simon had unplugged and immediately asked, “What’s deliverance?”
Christie turned to Simon as one of the locals walked up to the car, a big rifle hung over his shoulder.
“A movie about the mountains, honey.” She saw that even Kate had looked up, taking note of the men at the impromptu barrier.
The man by Jack’s window made a rolling motion with his hand.
Christie looked at the other men at the barrier. Five of them, all with rifles. As if expecting an invasion.
Guess they couldn’t get into the volunteer fire department.
“Afternoon, folks.”
The man leaned down to get a good look into the car and Christie got an equally good look at him. Eyes filmy. A little drunk.
Good combination, booze and bullets.
The guy did something weird with his mouth, as if removing a wad of gum that had become lodged in his cheek. Maybe shifting an errant tooth back into position.
“Afternoon,” Jack said.
Two other men had also come closer now. One of the younger guys seemed to have spotted Kate.
The man at the window tried to widen his eyes. “You folks stopping here, at Dingman’s Falls?”
Jack shook his head.
“Just passing through. We’re on our way to the Paterville Family Camp.”
The man looked away from the window.
“Figured that. Though right here in Dingman’s is real nice. Got the falls… nice people. Good town. And it’s clear. Know what I mean?”
“Clear?” Jack said.
“Nothing gets into town. Not past us. Nothing we don’t want. None of them… Can Heads. Me and the boys—well, you should see some of the trophies we got.”
Christie saw Jack’s hands tighten on the steering wheel. Never a good one for hiding his tension.
“Good to hear. Nice and safe town. Great.”
The man nodded. “But I got to tell you. You seem like nice people. So, a bit of advice. Stuff they didn’t tell you when you left the big highway. The towns here, they’re safe. The people make them safe. But in between, like when you leave Dingman’s… and head on to Scooter’s Mill?”
“The next town?”
A nod.
“Don’t stop.”
The man was looking right at Kate as if she was the special of the evening at the local greasy spoon.
“Don’t stop,” he repeated. “Keep your windows up.” Back to Jack. “Eyes on the road. Look out for anything peculiar.”
“Thanks for the advice.”
Jack didn’t sound too sincere.
Perhaps the man picked up on that.
“Paterville, hm? Hear it’s nice. And pricey. Musta set you back a bundle.”
Jack clenched his hands tighter on the steering wheel. He’s just about to hit his limi
t, Christie guessed.
“Yeah. Saved a long time.” A breath. “Look, we’ve been traveling all day.”
The man backed up.
“Sure, sure. You wanna get going. Just remember what I said, hm? You seem like nice folk. Wanna see you coming back this way, next week, whenever your vacation is done.”
“Thanks.”
Some of the other men began to move the sawhorse, opening up a lane and a way past this checkpoint and into the town of Dingman’s Falls.
Once again, the man made a rolling motion with his hand.
Jack hit a button and the window went up as he slowly cruised past the volunteer guards.
* * *
Christie watched the town roll by, dotted with people. A lone boy on a bike. Two men outside a shuttered hardware store, talking, taking due notice as Jack drove by.
“Dingman’s Falls,” Jack said to her as they left the town.
“Have to make sure we come back real soon, y’hear?”
“Absolutely. Maybe buy a little vacation condo.”
Christie laughed. “You could join the local border patrol.”
“Get me some trophies.”
But somehow, the last thing Jack said didn’t sound funny.
Trophies. What the hell kind of trophies would they have?
Outside the town, things turned even more surreal. Motel cabins with holes in the roofs, paint flaking off in giant clumps, the color barely holding on, doors smashed in.
Lots of bears on the signs. The Sportsmen’s Lodge. The Nite Owl. The Emerald Inn. All those happy bears on the decrepit signs.
The area looked as if it had been hit by bombs, turned into a war zone.
Christie stole a quick glance at the kids, sitting in the back, barely taking notice.
Then to Jack. She had asked to drive. But he kept saying he was fine. A typical male.
No, I can do it. I can handle it.
Eight, nine hours of driving.
He had to be tired.
They rolled past more desolation. A neon martini glass that would never again glow an iridescent blue. Carved wooden deer with their limbs chopped off, probably for firewood.
Then just as quickly, another town, another barrier.
If nothing else, now they were closer.
Soon, the road trip would be done. They could get out of the car.
Vacation Page 7