The Dark Roads

by Lemmons, Wayne

  Long miles back, he'd had to start digging much earlier in the night and dig much deeper holes. Trial and error had lost many miles for him, had left him far behind the group of travelers. He'd survived all of it, though, and would continue to live through the days. He would follow them until it was time to make himself known. They needed to move faster.

  The bandage around his calf badly needed a change. He'd known this through most of the night, but was determined to wait until the next round of darkness. He felt that the leg could wait a while longer without risking an infection, but no longer than one more day. It was always a shame to put a clean white bandage around his wound just before immersing himself in the dirt for such a long period. If the nastiness of the soil wasn't bad enough, the sweating would make it uncomfortable.

  He was a contact lens wearer in his old life, the one before all of this, and would sometimes wear a pair of the disposable lenses for months at a time. He compared the bandages to the contacts. New ones always felt awkward and ineffective until they'd worn in for a while. He'd had eye infections due to the long time wear, also a comparison to the dressed wound, but not unless he had worn the things for so long that they were close to falling out anyway. He felt that the two things were incredibly similar.

  More digging. The pile of dirt grew tall and fat as he frantically scooped earth from his hole. He would be done and ready to sleep very soon. He would eat when he woke, as long as the bandage hadn't gotten too filthy in his sleep. He might have to attend to that immediately upon waking.

  Chapter 3

  Whitehorse, YT

  July 14, 2021

  1:19 AM 78*F

  For what felt like the millionth time, Richie stood at the beginning of a new highway. He looked from left to right, from northbound shoulder to southbound shoulder, and saw no discernable difference between this road and every other road they'd been traveling. The pavement was uneven in places. The lines had grown faint, barely visible against the gray backdrop of the asphalt. The dust across the thing was the same dust they'd been walking on for more than a year as far as he could tell.

  "Why are we stopping?" Amanda asked him.

  "This is the Alaska Highway," he rasped in return.

  She said nothing, just stood with him to look at what was ahead. Buddy had been listening when Richie named the road and wondered if they should be celebrating or something.

  Abby paid no attention. She took advantage of the break by sitting in the middle of the road and calling to King, the striped orange tabby immediately came to her for a well-deserved petting. The little girl wasn't smiling, Richie noticed upon looking back, but she looked content in a way that was almost heartrending. King had followed them of his own free will, but he was theirs now.

  "Fucking cat," Buddy grunted, "I can't believe we have a cat during the apocalypse."

  "It's like we're a gay couple with a little girl and her cat," Richie chided.

  "There are more people here. We don't have to be the gay couple with the cat."

  "Don't get defensive, Buddy. With our limited population you've become quite the catch," Amanda said with an impish grin.

  "That's true. But I wouldn't date a guy with one eye," Buddy returned.

  "Maybe you liked me before the eye thing," Richie added, “You wouldn’t leave because I was injured. Maybe our love is too strong for a trivial thing like that to separate us.”

  "And it got way creepier than I thought it could," Amanda said before turning back to the others.

  Dylan had walked up to where they stood, passing Amanda on her way to join Abby. His gaze was on the road, seeing the next leg of their journey with eyes that weren't quite squinted.

  Richie took a moment before speaking again, to look at the man. He was thin, like the rest of them, but more than ten years older than Richie and Buddy. He was closer to Amanda's age and that was made more obvious by his graying hair than it was by a wrinkled face. He had laugh lines and crow's feet, but the true wrinkles of age seemed more Richie's uniform than Dylan's.

  "Ready to walk up the Alaska Highway, Dylan?" Richie asked him without much hope for a response. The man was quiet and communicated more with grunts and body language than words.

  "I never planned to go this far north," Dylan began, "But I owe you people something that I couldn't pay back if I didn't come with you. The little girl, too.

  "I lived in DeBolt for most of my life and had a family there before all of this. I wanted to die there, just like they did. Was going to if Abby hadn't been brought into that place."

  "You were just going to let them eat you?" Buddy asked.

  "Wouldn't have mattered to me. They kill you before they really get started. They just take little pieces from you while you’re alive. That group was like that, anyway."

  Both of the younger men were mystified by the way their fellow traveler was talking. He was calm, so calm that he could've been talking about a handful of pebbles rather than the loss of his own life. His face was without expression as he spoke, so neither Buddy nor Richie could see whether the idea caused him any real pain.

  "Either way, boys. I thank you for what you did for Abby and me. I won't forget it and I won't leave you until I've done something to return the favor."

  With that, Dylan shrugged his shoulders to distribute his pack along his back bone, and began walking forward.

  "That was different," Buddy whistled.

  "Yeah," Richie agreed as they watched the man's back, "That one's a real card."

  ***

  The day kept them inside, as it always did, but allowed them time to rest, think, and talk about the last leg of their trip. Abby, who seemed able to sleep on command and stay that way until rough waking was endured, slept through most of the day. Buddy was deeply jealous of this ability and had made it known that Abby would have to teach him her ways before she was able to part company with him. The girl mainly giggled at him when he ranted about it.

  "How do we look on supplies?" Richie asked.

  "We have one pack of ramen noodles left, some Dorito crumbs, one full meal pouch, one half meal pouch," Amanda paused, "We found one bag of dried beans when we got here tonight. We have plenty of medical supplies and a shit load of antibiotics and Vicodin."

  "Good to know," Buddy remarked, "How long will the beans last."

  "If we're careful, we can get a week out of them. The noodles and meal pouches will feed us today, so we won't have to break into the beans."

  "We need to get more calories going than that," Richie said, "Let's finish off the chips."

  Amanda nodded her agreement and went about the preparation of their day's meal. Richie was staring at his guide book, studying it as if the thing might change on him at any minute. Buddy watched, itching to talk about the highway, but knowing that Richie would let him in on the particulars when he was ready. His stomach rumbled angrily. They needed to find more food.

  Richie was holding the pocket watch in one loose fist as he perused the book in his other hand. When he needed to turn a page, he let the watch fall against his collar with an audible slap. He would grab the thing as soon as he was able again. The talisman had been his savior on many nights' walks, helping him to hold on to their reality, and he was melancholic to be without it in any way. Richie seldom opened the thing for any purpose other than checking the time, but there were still moments when the picture of Amanda and the small endorsement below it were needed.

  The night is real, he thought.

  So is the day, he reflected with a shiver.

  "If I'm right," Richie told Buddy, "We could be across the border and into Alaska in two weeks."

  "Two weeks?"

  "Let's say three just for shits and giggles. I don't want to be crucified for estimates later on."

  "We've been walking for more than a year, Richie. If you miss something by a week nobody's going to put you up on a cross."

  "Either way," Richie went on, "That means we need to find an extra week’s worth of food just to m
ake it there. After that..."

  "We'll figure it out," Buddy reassured him.

  "We need to figure it out soon. We've been lucky the whole way. We're heading toward starvation right now, Buddy. You know that, don't you?"

  His friend nodded without looking away.

  "The other thing we've gotten lucky as shit on is shelter. Hopefully, and I really mean hopefully, we'll be able to find service stations every twenty miles."

  "There's always the walk-in freezer method," Buddy allowed.

  "Maybe."

  "Any thoughts on how hot it gets during the day up here?"

  "Not a clue," Richie said, "But I have an idea on how we can figure it out."

  "It doesn't involve me losing an eye because I've been fucking with you, does it?"

  "Not yet."

  "Then what?"

  They were eye-to-eye, so Richie could count on Buddy's attention when he nodded toward the cat. The animal was cleaning itself, as it seemed to for the better part of most days, and paid no attention to them. Buddy looked in the direction of Richie's gesture. His shoulders slumped instantly, his gaze falling to the floor. When he turned back to Richie his face showed defeat.

  "That sucks," Buddy whispered.

  "It does."

  "What about Abby?"

  "Bet she wants to live, too."

  "It's pretty fucked up, Richie. We're just going to throw him outside right before sunrise?"

  Richie flinched as if Buddy had struck him. The look on his face was one of shocked horror.

  "Hell no. What kind of a person do you think I am?"

  "Then what?" Buddy asked.

  "The back office, upstairs. It doesn't have any windows."

  Buddy nodded. Most of the stations they'd squatted in had an identical room. It was close to the center of the building, its walls windowless protection. Richie had obviously been wondering if they could be above ground and out of the sun without risk. It made sense, but who would want to try it without knowing. They would lock the cat inside when they went downstairs for the day and release him upon their own exit. It was risky for King, but would give them knowledge that they didn't yet possess.

  "Alright," Buddy relented, "But you have to talk to the kid."

  "I figured."

  Chapter 4

  Ibex Valley, YT

  July 15, 2021

  3:58 AM 81*F

  Abby sat on her sleeping bag, King cradled in her lap, when Richie sat down across from her. She looked up with wide eyes, knowing what he was going to say. They'd all talked about what would happen as they walked, but she wasn't pleased with the idea.

  King was the only cat she'd seen in a year. He was just like Mrs. Hoffman's cat. Abby and her parents had lived next door to the Mrs. Hoffman and she always jumped at the chance to hold and pet the feline. She had always wanted a kitten of her own, but her parents wouldn't hear of it.

  Now, in this terrible version of the world, Abby had a cat that would sit with her all night if she wanted. It wasn't fair that King might not be alive in the morning, but Abby wouldn't cry or whine about it. She just wanted a few more minutes with her furry friend.

  "It's time, Abby," Richie said, "We have to take King upstairs."

  "I know. Can I take him?"

  "Sure."

  "Can we give him a little food? He'd feel better being alone if he had a treat."

  "Abby, we don't ha-," Amanda began, but Richie cut her off.

  "We can give him a few scraps and some water. How's that?"

  Abby nodded, tears welling up against her eyelids. Don't you cry! the girl scolded herself as she stood awkwardly with King in her arms. She walked toward the stairwell, a little girl of only ten that didn't deserve the pain she was feeling. Richie felt for her, but knew that there was no other way to discern if they'd be able to survive beyond the next town. There was no way for him to numb her grief.

  Her small footsteps diminished as she climbed the steps. Buddy had been scrounging in his pack for something during the exchange and came up with it just as Richie was bending to their supplies. He held the packet, shining plastic in the lantern light, up to Richie.

  "Don't be pissed. I was saving it back for Alaska or if we got hungry enough," Buddy said softly.

  The packet of tuna continued to reflect the light against the dimness of the basement. Richie looked at the thing for a long time before taking it from his friend. He nodded, his jaws clenching at the thought of ripping the pack open and devouring the contents, and followed Abby. It would be good for the cat to have something like this. It might even be King's last meal. Why shouldn't it be a special one?

  He found the child in the office, sitting on the floor with the cat. She was stroking him and murmuring something that Richie couldn't hear. His eye was watering, making the scene look like an impressionistic painting in some long ago museum. Instantly, he wondered if all of the paintings had been destroyed, but dismissed it just as quickly. He had more prominent things to think about.

  Without a word, Richie sat down beside Abby and scratched King's head for a moment. She wasn't the only one who'd enjoyed having the furry thing around.

  He sniffed hard, clearing his nose, and blinked his eye a few times before tearing the top off of the package of tuna. His mouth began to water even more than his eye. Again, Richie was tempted to scoop the contents out and cram them into his mouth. Abby watched as Richie emptied the package onto the floor just in front of them. King jumped to the pile and began to devour the stuff ravenously. He would completely finish it in seconds.

  Richie stood, holding his hand out to Abby. She stood with him, her small hand linking with his, and they left the office. Richie closed the door as quietly as he could, hoping not to interrupt the animal in its feasting. As they walked down to the others, their own door closed and locked, Richie heard the mewling of the cat, but chose to ignore it. Abby's tears were flowing now, but no one would be able to give her comfort.

  ***

  Ibex Valley, YT

  July 15, 2021

  7:45 AM 104*F

  King was alone again. He didn't have the mental capacity to understand that if he survived the day his people would return. He only knew that he was trapped in another place, like he had been for so long before his people had let him out. King wasn't confused. King wasn't scared. King was lonely.

  He'd lived a wonderful life with his first person, a young woman who'd been kind enough to give him a home and feed him every day. She even liked to take him with her to work, as had been the case on the last day he'd seen her. She had brought him to work at the truck place and let him go downstairs.

  King liked it downstairs. There were high boxes to climb and plenty of places to hide. He could even hunt there if he wanted to, which he normally didn't. Why would he hunt for food if the person gave him food every day? Eventually, though, when his person hadn't returned, King began stalking the rats and mice for food with great success.

  It was a long time between being locked in the basement and being let out by his new people, but King didn't know how long. Time was different for him than for the people. He knew days by the sun. He knew nights by the moon. In the basement, much like now, there had been no sun or moon. It had just been one very long night as far as King the cat, who had once been Buddy (Wouldn't Richie have had a great time with that old name?), was concerned.

  The temperature of the room raised a bit, making King uncomfortable, but no worse than the long ago basement had made him. He searched the floor for more of the fish that he'd been given and cleaned his fur. From time to time he would let out a resounding "MEOW!" to see if anyone would come to let him out. He drank from the water they'd left for him. He sat in a world of dim images. He didn't find a way out of the room.

  ***

  Ibex Valley, YT

  July 15, 2021

  8:06 PM 84*F

  "Can we check now?" Abby asked Richie for the third time in as many minutes.

  Richie looked up at her from his m
aps and considered. He didn't want to know if the cat had died, would be forever saddened if it had.

  His bad eye was aching a bit, the flesh around it tender for some reason that he couldn't even think about at the moment. He looked to Buddy, hoping that his friend would volunteer for the task. Then to Amanda. Then to Dylan. No help from anyone.

  "Okay," he sighed, slowly rising to a crouch.

  When Richie stood, closing his functioning eye for a moment, he thought of a dead ball of fur laying in the middle of a concrete floor. He thought of a small girl crying uncontrollably. Richie was not looking forward to climbing the steps, opening the doors, or finding King dead. If the cat hadn't survived, it was a good possibility that they would all be joining him in the afterlife in the very near future. It would also mean Abby having her heart broken.

  Moments later they stood outside of the door that had held their new friend captive for the daytime hours. Richie was holding his breath without meaning to. Abby was impatient, but keeping herself at bay.

  They heard nothing in the room. No sounds of movement could be discerned through the border between them and the mystery that was King the cat. Richie turned the knob. As the door swung open, he realized that he'd also closed his eye against the sight that awaited them. Richie opened his eye to see King lying in the center of the room, tucked into an unmoving ball.

  "King," Abby beckoned, "Here kitty."

  Nothing. Richie saw no rise or fall of the shoulders to indicate breath. He wanted to cry for the girl, to kneel down and hold her in his arms. He looked down to her, noticed the steady drip of tears from her eyes. Richie shook his head, clinched his own eye shut against tears that wanted to come. It was worse than he'd thought it would be, finding King this way, and he wanted to take their test back, to let the animal live. Abby would be devastated.