by Joshua Gayou
Otis hauled two five gallon gas cans out of the truck bed and carried them over to the minivan. “Billy got us all setup, guys. We got the tools and we got the talent.”
“I caught that reference. Winston Zeddemore, right?” asked Jake.
Otis pointed in Jake’s direction and laughed. “There you go!” He walked back to the truck to retrieve a jack and some drip pans.
“Not just that,” Billy said. “I finally got some jack stands. We can refuel safely now. Hey, is that coming out alright? It looks awful…” He was looking at the concoction Jake was whipping up.
“No, it’s fine. Trust me; I’m getting the hang of this now. It’s my third batch.”
“It definitely does not suck, you guys,” said Ben, throwing out a thumbs-up to emphasize the point.
Jake finished up the third batch of breakfast and shared it around. Billy and Otis took their portions, followed by the kids coming in for seconds. I began to scold my daughter for taking a second round (those habits we learn growing up tend to die hard) but everyone assured me it was fine and that the food would go to waste otherwise. I relented and she happily tucked in, reinforcing that age old lesson that all Hispanic children eventually pick up on: Mom is much nicer around company.
We loitered around as the last of the food was eaten. Jake kicked out the fire, bustled about the area packing up the “kitchen”, and ensured that all gear was stowed for when it was time to depart. I noticed he was moving slower than usual – stalling. We all seemed to be stalling in our own way. It was yet another lesson of change in this new world that I was coming to understand. Every experience was now more intense; more extreme. I believe we were all uniquely aware that there was a chance that each thing we did could end up being the last time we did it. People had been rendered a rarity by the events of the world and relationships with good people had become rarer still. This would not be the last time I experienced a long, lingering goodbye.
With nothing left to put away, Jake called over to Robert and asked him to come away from the camp for a bit. Samantha tensed up at this but Jake put out a reassuring hand to calm her. They went to a distance of fifty yards out and stood toe to toe, talking. Jake looked serious but not unkind. Robert started the conversation with arms crossed over his chest and a stony face. I was distracted by Billy speaking over to my right and looked in his direction. He was talking with Otis.
“Here,” Billy said and handed Otis a folded up piece of paper. “That address is in Jackson, Wyoming. It’s right on the border with Idaho. If you don’t find the folks you’re looking for in Oregon…or, hell, even if you do find them – you can find us there at that address. There’s plenty of room, I have a well, good hunting. It’s an option, anyway,” he trailed off.
“Thank you, Billy. Thank you for everything.” They shook hands.
Further out from Billy and Otis, Ben and Lizzy were having a goodbye of their own. I saw Ben reach into his pocket and pull out the deck of cards. He handed them to Elizabeth and then hugged her.
I wiped my eyes and looked back over in Jake’s direction. Robert’s posture had changed now. His hands were down on his hips with his head bowed, nodding sometimes and, at other times, unmoving. Jake had a hand rested on Robert’s left shoulder. Presently, Jake extended his right hand between them and Robert took it. They shook and Jake lightly slapped him on the shoulder; I saw Robert smile for the first time. They both nodded and began to walk back in our direction. I saw Robert surreptitiously wipe at his eyes as they came. Jake advanced just behind Robert with his hands in his pockets. His face was calm and serene.
It was the last goodbye before we all climbed into our vehicles to go our separate ways, perhaps never to see each other again. We stood in a circle between the Jeep, the Dodge, and the minivan.
“I can’t thank you people enough,” Otis said. “You may have saved us with all you’ve given.”
“Well, the water will definitely help us,” Jake said, “but I think this was good for us despite the water. It’s good to be reminded that not everyone we see is trying to kill us. I think we needed that reminder.”
“We did,” Billy agreed and looked at Jake. “I know I did. I admit it. You were right.”
“There’s another tent city not far from here,” I said. “It’s where I started.” I was surprised at how hard it was for me to say that. I almost had to force the words out – I can remember literally having to brace my stomach muscles to get the air moving. It had been only a few weeks since I was last there but it might as well have been one hundred years ago, given how I felt now. I thought about who I had become as I stood there looking at Otis; all the time spent moving through unknown areas carrying a rifle that felt more familiar and comfortable every day, that I could operate by touch alone. I recalled back to the firefight in the warehouse; how I shot a man to wound him and expose more vital areas. How I shot him in the head without hesitation. I thought about what I had done to James out of simple vengeance and how, even now, I felt absolutely zero guilt or remorse for it; there were things over which I lost sleep but James wasn’t one of them. I had changed so much from the woman who came stumbling out of the quarantine tents on the way to Cedar Fort. Elizabeth and I had both changed so much.
Looking at Otis, I saw several things. I saw a good, loving father; a man of warmth, compassion, and good humor. I also saw a man who had yet to make the same evolutionary leaps that I had. He was close, I knew, but there were still lines for him to cross. I realized I had been silently assessing them all from the moment we met. Otis and Robert both were larger and physically stronger than me. Even so, I had little doubt in my mind that I could kill them if the need arose – perhaps not both at the same time; size and strength count for a lot. I knew, however, what my chances were if we went one on one: better than theirs. The fact that I thought about such things unconsciously also did not worry me. It occurred to me that the strange woman I had once been would not be missed.
Presently, I continued my explanation to Otis. “Continue on the 15 north from here, and then take highway 145 towards Cedar Fort just north of the lake. Stay on that road a few miles and you’ll see the tents spread all across the country side. There were many soldiers there when I left, National Guard and the like. They had weapons, supplies. There’s probably still MRE crates and medicine out there, ammunition too.”
“Thank you,” Otis said again. He counted off on two fingers, “Barnes and Cedar Fort. We’ll look into that.”
“And keep an eye on your fuel level,” said Billy. “Don’t let it get too far below half a tank before you start looking to top off. You never know when you’re going to run into a big stretch with no viable vehicles to plunder. It used to be easy to judge with Google Maps and such; Thomas Guides don’t offer the same detail.”
Otis nodded to indicate he understood. We all hugged and said goodbye one last time, quietly grateful to each other, I think, that we had all taken a chance. We drove across several lanes of highway to find our way back onto the 15 headed north. Otis drove up the overpass that spanned the freeway in order to pick up the southbound side. I could see Elizabeth in the rear view mirror watching them as they drove away. She stayed that way, watching after them until they were lost from sight.
13 – Arrival
Amanda
It took one full day of driving and one last refueling stop to get us to Jackson, Wyoming. It was very clear by this time that Billy was no longer interested in spending any further unnecessary time out on the road. He kept us moving forward like a man possessed, slowing down for only one rest break and advising us to eat on the road.
The drive took longer than it would have once upon a time for all the obvious reasons: we had to take less travelled roads to avoid traffic pile ups, weaving back and forth between Wyoming and Utah as we advanced North. In some cases we left the road entirely, rolling slowly over unpaved ground for miles at a time to get around the worst snarls. The road became a mountain pass as we hit the National Forest on
the way to Jackson, slowing us down even more as we made our way uphill, downhill, and through various switchbacks. The road was treacherous in places as we drove along Snake River, following it for several miles until I began to think it would never end. We carved our way through the center of an immense valley with vast, tree covered mountains walling us in on either side. For a girl who had grown up in the Utah deserts (or anyone for that matter, I suppose), the view was stunning and I had to remind myself more than once to concentrate on the road.
I started seeing signs for Jackson as the sun was just beginning its descent in the sky and I estimated three or four hours of daylight left to us. Billy led us off the main road before we encountered the town itself and led us off on a smaller two lane highway that seemed to cut a line straight toward the mountains a few miles distant. As we came closer, I saw that the road actually swung out to the left and then turned back to the right to weave into a natural valley at the foot of the mountain range, which was all but obscured from view when it was approached at an angle perpendicular to the range itself. We continued on, passing through the entry and driving into the narrow pass before us. On the other side of the pass, mountain walls densely covered in fir trees climbed to either side of us. The distance across the pass was anywhere from fifty yards to half a mile, depending on your position when you measured. It was impossible to tell for how long it ran; it folded back on itself several times so that forward viewing distance was occluded by overlapping ridge lines.
Not long after our entry, I sensed an upward grade in the road; the engine started working a bit harder, running at a higher RPM. It couldn’t seem to decide if it wanted to stay in its current gear or shift up and I played around with the gas pedal, attempting to force a decision out of the transmission.
Billy turned off on a dirt road about another three miles into the valley, which took us into deeper forested area and advanced our grade of climb a bit more. This levelled off not long after. Without warning, the trees opened up into a wide glen. Directly across from us at great distance, I could just barely make out two buildings peeking out at us from the tree line; the mountain itself appeared to jut straight up into the sky immediately behind them. The entire glen was ringed by trees; a sprawling encircled landscape that looked as though it might have been a lake once upon a time but had naturally run dry long ago. The dirt road ran us right through the center of the clearing and took us directly to the buildings.
One of these buildings turned out to be a large and rustic log home; the kind that had been built to look like an old world settler design and yet could not disguise the fact that it had taken some serious money to produce. The two-level building belied a complex floor plan, with portions of it pushing out in all directions suggesting rooms of all shapes and sizes. Shuttered windows were visible throughout the home.
The second building was situated to the rear of the home on the right and was as unlike the home as it could have been. It was large, half again as high as the house. I couldn’t see how far back it went as we drove up because it was partially buried in and obscured by the surrounding trees but I learned later that it was three times the length of the log home. Billy called it a “Butler Building”. It was a prefabricated construction that he used as a general garage and main storage area.
We parked out in front of the house’s main entry way. The area was unpaved dirt. Exiting his truck, Billy walked to the center of the dirt patch in front of his house where he looked down at an old and untended fire pit surrounded by a rocking chair, three folding chairs, and a log. He stared at it all, hands on his hips, as though he was waiting for the scene to explain itself. He looked up at his house and then began turning his head slowly about the area, scanning the tree line.
From the passenger seat, Jake said, “Elizabeth, stay here. Lock the doors when we get out.” He lifted the Tavor out of his footwell and handed it over to me. I took it and he lifted out his AK-47 for himself.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“Nothing yet,” he said. “I want you locked up and safe in case something starts.”
We exited the Jeep (I heard the doors lock behind us immediately) and walked over to join Billy.
“I’m guessing you didn’t leave all this here the last time you were out this way,” Jake stated.
“Nope,” Billy said. “Think I’ve had some unannounced company.”
Jake sighed. “Well, get your shotgun. We’d better clear the house. Amanda, get your vest on. Keep an eye on things out here, please.”
I went to the back door of the Jeep and opened it to retrieve the vest. I pulled out the second one and threw it to Jake. “Are you sure Billy shouldn’t take this one?”
“No, I’m good,” Billy called back from the truck. “I’d rather you wear it.”
They ascended the three steps up to the front porch of the cabin, both bent over their weapons. Billy pointed over to a window to the left of the door that had been boarded up with a scrap of plywood; I assumed this was how entry had been gained. Billy tried the handle on the front door and, finding it locked, extracted a bundle of keys from his pocket, and inserted one of them into the lock. He looked up to Jake, who nodded. Billy swung open the door and pulled back to make way for Jake, who stormed into the house muzzle first. Billy went in directly behind him with his shotgun out in front.
I spent the next several minutes outside next to the Jeep straining my ears for the sound of gunfire. At one point I turned to look at Elizabeth who stared back out at me through the window with her saucer eyes. I mouthed the words “lay down” to her while motioning with my hand. She threw herself down on the back seat like she was hiding from a grenade.
My attention was pulled back by the sound of the front door opening; Jake and Billy had exited the house and were making their way over to the other building. They stopped at the front and examined both sides of the giant roll up door that spanned the structure. Billy shrugged and they came back to meet with me.
“We all good?” I asked as they came back.
“Someone’s been through here for sure,” said Billy. “They’re gone now, though. Can’t say how long since they were here but that fire pit is pretty old. Maybe they were just passing through.”
“Did it look like they left anything behind?” I asked. “Any new stuff lying around in there that you didn’t recognize? Anything someone might come back for?”
“Hard to say but not that I could tell,” answered Billy. “The beds were slept in and some of the trash cans were stacked pretty high. A lot of stuff has been moved around. Much of it looks like it had just been left in place. I suppose that could mean someone meant to come back but I just don’t know. I don’t know if I’d tidy up a place that I had just spent some time in for a few nights while passing through.”
“I sure would,” I said. “Rude assholes.”
“Well, we probably just keep our eyes open a few weeks. If anyone does come through, we’ll deal with it then,” said Jake.
“Good news is they didn’t get into the garage. That’s where the important stuff is,” Billy said, turning to look back that way. He heaved a sigh that rolled through his whole body, clearly relieved to have arrived. “I think we’re good. Why don’t you guys pull the cars around the side and I’ll give you all the tour?”
He met us out on the front porch by the door: Lizzy standing between Jake and me with our rifles slung over our shoulders. “Come on in,” he said, and opened the large door wide.
The log home, which looked impressive from the outside, looked even more so from the inside. Everything about the place screamed “Mountain Man”. It was all log and beam construction with wood floors spreading out in all directions with thick, rich rugs laid out at various intervals. A staircase led upstairs immediately off the entryway. To the right of the stairs was a hallway leading past what appeared to be one or more bedrooms; to the left of the stairs was a great room appointed with dark leather seating and a large stone fireplace. Past the front ro
om and entry way, a dining area could be seen all the way towards the rear of the house; I presumed the kitchen would be located there as well.
“There are two bedrooms upstairs, a loft, and a couple of bathrooms,” he said. “Down here are the common areas, kitchen, another couple of bedrooms with a shared bathroom, and a den at the back of that hallway.”
“Quite a few bedrooms for one, no?” asked Jake.
“Well, it was all part of the floor plan when I had the place built,” Billy said as he leaned on the staircase rail. “I wanted the extra space because I would often bring friends or family and their children up here on vacation. You’ll see – one of the downstairs rooms has a row of bunks rather than a standard bed.”
“So…den?” I asked. “Is that the library?”
“Yes, that would be the same thing, you smart aleck. Why, you want to see it?”
“Oh, I don’t know. It’s been built up so much in my mind now. I sure would hate for it to fall short,” I said, while poking him in the bicep.
He curled his arm up in defense of my index finger, tucking it in tight to his side like a chicken wing. He stared at me a moment with a mock-offended expression, and then began to laugh despite his best efforts to restrain himself. “You…you really are a little smartass, aren’t you?”
“C’mon, Pops,” I said. “Let’s go have a look at it. Lizzy, come see. Make sure you have your library card!”
“Damned relentless…” Billy muttered as he led the way down the hall. Elizabeth and I followed with Jake bringing up the rear. “This is good,” Billy said as he entered the room and turned around. “There are some things in here that I wanted you to see.”
The room was not what I expected at all. I was expecting something like a converted bedroom with a few book cases lining the walls, maybe a corner desk, but it was nothing like that. The space itself was larger than the family room in our old apartment back in Sandy. Shelves spanning from floor to ceiling wrapped around the entire room, broken only by two large vertical windows on the outside wall and another stone fireplace that was one third the size of the one in the great room. A wooden executive desk dominated the rear of the den, positioned directly in front of the windows. The best example I can bring to mind that describes the feel of the room was Don Corleone’s office in The Godfather - only filled with books.