There was no going backward, as the last place they'd seen was near the place they'd started their night. Elvis was silent. Buddy was searching the road as if his head was on a swivel. None of them had any solid ideas to pose in the event that they might not find shelter. At this point they were looking at a very possible end to their trip and it wasn't likely to be a pleasant one.
"Gas station up ahead," Buddy declared angrily, "We haven't seen a basement on one of these things since fucking Missouri."
"We'll check it," Richie said, "How far do you think it is?"
"A mile. Maybe two."
"Shit," Richie cursed, looking at his watch for the umpteenth time in the last hour, "Let's make it closer."
They picked up their pace, nearly jogging toward the lone building in the distance. They were all breathing hard, but Elvis was the loudest. He hadn't complained, hadn't started praying to the God of men who don't have shelter, hadn't said a damned thing over the last few hours.
Richie was becoming frustrated with his silence. He'd been quieter since their altercation in Livingston, and Richie understood that without a doubt, but he was close to screaming at the guy for some reason. Maybe it was just the stress. Maybe? Of course it's the fucking stress! You're dragging ass and tired of helping them drag ass, too! his mind screamed.
Richie slowed a step or two, shaking his head to quiet the anger in his thoughts. It wasn't like him to be enraged with anyone in the type of shape they were in, especially when it came to Elvis.
Who could be frustrated with a person for not complaining? He knew that he had to get a grip on his emotions. He picked the steps back up and ignored the oddity for the moment.
"It's got a restaurant attached," Buddy said breathlessly.
"Maybe a storeroom under?" Richie hoped.
"Fuck! Maybe."
Buddy's pace didn't flag, but Richie could see how tired he was. Pick it up! For God's sake, man up and run! he shouted silently at his friend.
He closed his eyes to fight the thoughts back again. Now it was Buddy who had drawn his quiet rage. What in the world could be pushing him to such emotional outbursts? He tried to breathe deeply, but it was nearly impossible when he couldn't even get air into his lungs.
Hurry!
The station was drawing nearer and they would be there in the next few minutes. Richie looked to the face of his watch again, hoping that he wouldn't trip and fall due to the lack of attention on the road and saw that ten minutes had passed. They were close, sure, but this was where they would have to stay for the night. They couldn't possibly have time enough to get anywhere else.
***
Basin, MT
February 19, 2021
4:56 AM 99*F
The fueling station, a truck stop with a fast food restaurant attached, was deserted. They knew that almost without clearing the place.
All of the windows had been shattered and there were food stuffs everywhere spoiling on the shelves. The carcass of a dog greeted them within a few feet of the front entrance. The place wasn't huge, but it wasn't one of the tiny gas and go places that they'd been seeing throughout the night. Elvis and Richie walked the aisles of the place, quickly, to make sure they were alone.
"Running out of time," Richie whispered as he searched for a door that would lead to their salvation.
"Shit!" Buddy shouted, "No basement."
"Okay," Richie said, trying to keep some kind of self-control, "What else?"
"What else? What the fuck do you mean? We're dead! Didn't you hear me? No fucking basement!"
"I know what isn't here, Buddy," Richie admitted, surprised by his calm tone of voice despite the roiling acid in his stomach, "We need to know what else is here. Is there a store room?"
"Fuck," Buddy said in answer before nodding and turning to the opposite end of the convenience area, "I'll look."
"Elvis?" Richie beckoned.
"Yeah?"
"Check behind the counter at the fast food place. See if there's anywhere back there to go. We need a room with no windows."
Elvis nodded and sprinted away. Richie looked around the area, carefully, thinking and not wanting to miss anything.
What did he know about these places? Gas stations? Not a thing, really. Restaurants? He nodded to himself. He'd dated a girl in high school that part-timed at some fucking place that spit out burgers for money. What had she always talked about?
"Think, damn you," he whispered, "Think."
***
Basin, MT
February 19, 2021
5:04 AM 108*F
A freezer! Richie's mind exclaimed as he felt the temperature rising.
"Elvis!" he yelled, "Look for a freezer!"
Richie ran toward the counter where god knew how many meals had been handed off, grabbing Buddy's attention along the way. His friend followed him to the back of the kitchen area where Elvis stood staring at a large stainless steel door.
He looked as if his entire world had crumbled and Richie was very close to turning him around for a slap. The heat was coming. They all knew it, so why wasn't Elvis doing anything?
"Open it!" Richie told him loudly, "That's where we need to be."
"It's locked, Richie," Elvis said as he turned, tears starting to stream down his cheeks.
Richie grabbed the door latch, pulled, felt no give in the door, and pulled harder. Nothing. His mind raced, wondering what could possibly keep the door closed. He yanked again on the handle with the same result. Buddy took his own turn before stepping back.
The three of them stood for a moment, gawking at the only chance they had, Elvis crying without making much noise. Richie's mind raced along the tracks of his memory, pondering any conversation he'd had with that long ago girl that might just save their lives from the past. What in the fuck had she ever said about freezer doors in a restaurant?
"Oh fuck me," Richie said with a grin as he reached forward to a spot opposite the door handle and pulled a latch outward. The door swung open quietly.
The stench of the walk-in freezer was strong and immediate. All of them stepped back, wishing that the smell hadn't been sealed in for however long it had waited for them.
***
Basin, MT
February 19, 2021
5:13 AM 124*F
"Jesus," Richie spoke, the crook of his arm covering his mouth and nose, "We gotta get in."
"I think I'll just die," Buddy said.
"I'm with Buddy," Elvis proclaimed before turning away from them. The wet spatter sound of vomiting filled the room.
"Suck it up," Richie said, "We can get most of it out, but we don't have a lot of time here."
"Can we even survive in there? Is it going to get too hot?"
"I don't know, man," Richie admitted, "But we need to give it a shot. It's our last chance."
Elvis nodded. He'd turned back to them and was staring into the room with a disgusted look on his face. Richie took Elvis' sweaty bandana and wrapped it around his friend’s face. Elvis breathed deeply and nodded to Richie thankfully. It wasn't great, but it was better.
Richie repeated the action with his own bandana, not able to suck in nearly as much breath. For once he wished that he sweated as much as the King. Buddy took a shirt from his pack, wrapped it around his face and looked to his friends. He gestured to them and then to the room in which they'd have to stay for the night.
They didn't have time to empty anything out. The temperature was rising much faster than any of them had expected. They would have to exist with the smell of badly rotten food for the day.
"Shit," Richie said as he walked into the stench of rot and decay. His friends followed.
***
Compared to the temperature of the outside world, the walk-in was cool at just over one-hundred-twelve degrees, but the day was uncomfortable to say the least. They didn't sleep for more than a few minutes at a time and even during those few precious minutes, no one slept deeply.
The heat was bad, but the smell was m
uch worse than anything they'd had to deal with before. Outside, where the sun was able to strike and bleach the aroma of death away, nothing was that offensive. In this well-insulated room, however, the qualities of decay had been held in wait.
Buddy and Richie tried as many ways to distract themselves as was possible. Elvis seemed not only to deal with it, but was a rock compared to the other two. He got more rest than his companions and was obviously better suited for the experience.
When Buddy asked how this could be, Elvis simply shrugged and told him that he should've thrown up before they walked in. Richie could say nothing in return while Buddy shook his head in amazement.
"It's frigging hot!" Buddy shouted at one point.
"Not as hot as it is out there," Richie contended, "We got lucky this time."
"You ain't lyin'," Elvis added.
Both Buddy and Richie looked his way with more head shaking for Elvis. They were always surprised when he spoke in certain ways. This was one of them.
The day lasted an eternity. They'd come close to not finding shelter before, but had always lucked out at what they believed was the last minute. This was a lesson that it could be cut much closer, time slivering away as if sliced with a hot wire, but they might not be so lucky the next time.
The problem with learning that type of lesson was that they might not have a choice in how they learned, much as they hadn't had an option this time. They could try staying in one spot for extended periods of time, but that could prove even more hazardous.
North was the only way to go. Stopping would mean a death doled out by the lack of forward motion and none of them was willing to accept that fate.
A lesson that they could take and make use of was that there was an alternative to the basements and store rooms of the world. Though that option might not be very attractive.
When darkness came, they walked on, grateful for their lives and the chance to keep moving.
Chapter 6
Sweetgrass, MT
March 10, 2021
10:51 PM 96*F
Richie was the first to see the Canadian border. The customs center was almost camouflaged by the grime that had gathered upon it. He saw that it must've been a madhouse near the end. Cars were lined up for half a mile on the U.S. side, empty of passengers. Large trucks were pulled across the lanes to try preventing the mass migration.
There were bodies all over the place, but it was impossible to tell how long they'd been there, or how they'd actually died. The flesh had been distorted by many days of direct sunlight.
He still smiled before turning back to his friends who'd been walking twenty or so feet behind him. They were looking in the same direction, but hadn't yet made out what the building meant. He would tell them in a moment, but right now he was too busy marveling at what they'd done. He was nearly elated by the notion that they'd made it this far and had only lost one of their original group.
His mood was hampered only by the thought of the one they'd lost.
***
Benny. Benny hadn't ever been the best of them. He was weak in a fundamental way and had proven it not long after they'd begun the trip to Alaska. Even before things went bad with the world, Benny was always afraid of something, whether it be a bully giving him a hard time, or a teacher that made him take a test over when he didn't think he should have to.
He wasn't necessarily intelligent and had no athletic gifts. They'd always taken pity on him. Even when he'd go too far with teasing Elvis, the others were quick to forgive him because he didn't really understand what he was doing.
Buddy had been the one to finally lose his patience with Benny while they were still south of the Alabama line.
Benny had been quiet, isolating himself from the rest of the group for some time. During the first weeks of their trip he'd been a constant complainer, rubbing against the nerves of everyone, but that fell away once he'd stopped conversing. On his last night of life Benny seemed to burst out of his shell. He became manic and was screaming at the top of his lungs.
"I sure am glad I get to walk up this fucking road until dawn! It sure is great!" Benny yelled at the top of his lungs.
"Enough Benny," Richie had said to him, quietly.
"No way! I'm so goddamned excited about this that I just have to shout it out!"
Buddy was staring at him, now, but Elvis kept walking with his head down. He didn't like yelling, even when it was safe, and Benny was a champion screamer. The shouting put them all even more on edge than they'd already been.
"I'm just gonna walk all night long! Maybe I should sing about it!" he continued.
The singing, Richie thought as he neared the last car that would be waiting in line forever to get into Canada, was what set Buddy off. The shouting would've bothered him enough to say something, but the singing was what made him act.
Buddy quickened his pace so that he could round on Benny and be in front of him. He stopped, halting Benny in his tracks, and so did Richie and Elvis. They could see that it was going to go bad, but they couldn't have predicted how so. Neither of them, however, wanted to stop Buddy. Enough was enough.
"If you say one more fucking word, Benny," Buddy told him, their faces now only a few inches apart.
"What are you gonna do, Buddy?" Benny asked in that same faux happy tone, "You gonna hit me? I sure would like that! Go right ah-"
Benny was on the ground before he could finish his rant. Buddy stood over him, shaking and enraged. He was done listening to it and had made that clear with a fist to the jaw. Benny was quiet, finally, so surprised that he couldn't even think about getting up off of the ground.
"I warned you, Benny. That kind of shit could get us all killed. If you get up, do it slow and easy. I'm not going to let you hit me back."
Richie noticed that Buddy hadn't even removed his glasses, as he'd done on the few other occasions where some altercation might come to blows. He was confident that Benny wouldn't even try to strike him in retaliation.
"Now get your shit and let's go."
Benny did get up, but left his pack on the ground. He looked Buddy in the eye without saying a word before turning to the others. He seemed to be studying them, trying to find something in their faces.
Richie stared back at him and was unsettled by the look in his eye. It was that moment when Richie realized that Benny had cracked. Buddy's punch had been the last straw. Benny had been steadily worsening since they had left Miami, but Richie hadn't thought much about it. They were all under an incredible strain, but were handling it. From the look of things, Richie knew now, Benny had stopped handling.
"You can all fuck off," Benny told them quietly before turning to walk in the direction they'd already been going.
They all started the walk, again, Buddy picking up Benny's pack and shouldering it by one strap. He didn't look like the extra weight was affecting him, but after a while Elvis took a turn with it and Buddy didn't try to stop him. Richie took the pack from Elvis after a few miles and they began taking turns with the thing until they were ready to stop for the night.
Benny didn't speak, nor did anyone try to break words with him. The time for cooling down mentally had come.
Later, when they came to a place with cellar doors on the side, Benny didn't walk toward it. He just kept moving down the road. When Richie ran to him, trying to pull him back to the house, and finally screamed at him that it would be dawn and he was going to get himself killed, Benny simply pulled his pistol and aimed it at Richie's face.
"Fuck off," Benny whispered, "I'm not going anywhere with you pricks."
"Come on, man. Don't be stupid," Richie told him, trying to ignore the black hole of the pistol.
"Stupid?" Benny started, "I've followed you and Buddy around for fucking years. I've put up with all of your bullshit. I even helped protect your pet moron over there."
Elvis looked up sharply, a shadow of anger strolling across his features. Buddy didn't move toward Benny, but he didn't try to help Richie pull him in
either. There would be no love lost between those two.
"You want to die Benny? Is that it?"
Benny pointed the pistol away from Richie, fired it, and returned his aim as the barrel puffed out a stream of acrid smoke. His eyes never left Richie.
“I said to fuck off,” Benny said in a voice that was almost unrecognizable.
Richie could only raise his hands and back away. If Benny was going to shoot him for trying to save his life, then he could go on his way. Elvis said nothing during the exchange, nor had Buddy. They watched as their old friend walked away without so much as a look back over his shoulder.
They stepped past his blistered body the next night, a mutilated figure huddled in the road as if he’d lain in wait for death. Each of them mourned Benny in some way, but they did it alone.
***
Richie and his friends stepped into Canada over two hundred days after they'd left Miami, Florida. They'd traveled more than 2600 miles on foot and had a long journey ahead of them before their faction would reach Alaska. They were happy, but it was a subdued joy.
“Fucking Canada,” Buddy said.
“Hopefully they’re still the polite type,” Richie added.
Elvis laughed heartily.
Canadian Roadways
Chapter 1
Coutts, AB
March 11, 2021
2:31 AM 94*F
Richie was working through his maps by lantern glow, outlining the same roads over and over with the yellow highlighter. Consequently, the lines on the map had gone from black to a muddy yellow.
His eyes were dry from staring at the paper without blinking for too long. His enthusiasm for Canada's s shortest route to Alaska had been fading over the last few minutes. The roads looked straight, not too many blind curves for them to navigate, so that was good.
The Dark Roads Page 7