by Chris Bostic
“You like her.”
“Maybe.”
“You went to her house today.” I could’ve punched her, or myself, for mentioning any of that earlier.
“What?” Mom looked at Dad. “Harold, did you know any of this?”
“I thought he went to Joe’s.”
They launched into their own conversation while I stared out my window at the inside of the garage. There was too much junk piled around me to see out the front without a huge effort.
“Sorry, Zach. I was just kidding.”
“It’s okay.” I tried to shrug without knocking something over. “At least it gives them something to talk about.”
Maddie nodded. “Does this suck or what?”
“Just wait ‘til Austin gets back.”
The idea of driving more than two minutes in those cramped conditions filled me with dread. It made no sense why we weren’t taking the van. The park had plenty of paved roads, and we would’ve certainly had a lot more room in the Honda.
Before I could ask, Maddie whined, “Mom, this is ridiculous. We’re gonna suffocate back here.”
“Or die from the fumes,” I added. “Why’d you start the car already?”
My parents ignored our complaints, which wasn’t uncommon. Mom reached into her backpack and fished out a tablet computer. She turned to Dad and said, “Good thing they didn’t find this one.”
“Yeah, you were right about the hiding place. They missed my rifle too, but I didn’t see your pistol.”
As I watched bewildered, she patted her backpack. “Got it already, locked and loaded.”
“What the heck?” I whispered to Maddie, but she’d zoned out. Apparently the shovels and the rakes hanging on the garage wall were more interesting than our parents’ bizarre conversation.
“Just hurry up on that thing,” Dad told Mom, nodding his head at the tablet.
“I know. Just need to make sure the others got my message about bugging out. We won’t have a connection later…and that’s a good thing. Wouldn’t want anyone tracing us.” She looked up from the screen at Dad. “You brought the two-ways?”
“Of course.”
“Good. They’ll be safe.”
As I shook my head wondering why this seemed nothing like an actual vacation, Maddie asked, “Can I stay home?”
“That’s not an option, young lady,” Dad replied.
“But I’m old enough to stay alone.”
“Maybe,” he answered, not sounding all that convinced. I’d rarely stayed home alone, but that was mostly because Dad was always there. Not that I really saw him around. He was usually holed up in the computer room banging away on the keyboard sounding like someone was teaching a monkey to type.
“It’s not about that.” Mom lowered her voice to plead with her. “Please, sweetie. We need to go.”
“Why?” I asked for what seemed like the hundredth time.
“Because we need to,” Dad added.
“Mom just said-”
“Zach, please.” Mom whipped around but softened her tone when she looked at my face. “Because it’s not safe, and that’s all I’m gonna say.”
CHAPTER 7
Squealing tires put an end to any further discussion. Dad sat up even straighter than normal, his arms splayed out to the sides to grip the edge of the steering wheel like he was driving a tank.
“He’s back, Harold. Pull out.”
I expected Dad to say, “Aye, Captain,” but I was much more of a smart-aleck than him. He put the Jeep in gear and eased us out into the driveway.
A tan blur zipped past me, followed by the screeching of brakes. In seconds, the door on Maddie’s side was thrown open, and my older brother launched himself into the Jeep. She groaned as he landed on her.
“Go!” he yelled, with feet dangling out the door.
Dad stepped on the gas, while Mom reached up to press the garage door button on the visor over his head. Austin held the backpack on Maddie’s lap for support, and I snaked a hand out to grab his wrist until he could somehow pull himself all the way inside.
“I lost ‘em…past the creek bridge.” Austin gasped for air between phrases. He brushed matted hair from his forehead. “I turned onto Old Mill…before the roadblock…and cut through the back way.”
“Roadblocks?” I said.
“We’d better use bug out Plan B,” Mom told Dad, ignoring my question.
“Yeah, we’re definitely going the other way,” he replied. “Great work, son.”
If I wasn’t freaking out about the possibility of several black cars trailing us, I might’ve been a little offended. Dad never told me I did a great job on anything. Maybe I hadn’t.
“They’ll be sending another unit to check on the house…soon,” Mom said. “Don’t slow down, Harold.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The Jeep leaned sharply to the side as Dad made a left onto the main road leading from our house—away from Katelyn’s. There wasn’t much time to think about that couch again when it felt like we might veer off the road any second.
As the Jeep straightened back out and headed down the street, Austin squirmed, trying to wedge himself into a seat that would’ve been too small without all the gear.
“Suck in your gut, sis,” Austin said.
“You too? Shut up!”
“No, seriously. I can’t close the door.” He grunted as if to prove the point.
I listened for it to latch, but it was several more groans and snorts before I heard the telltale click.
“Cozy little clown car, huh?” he said, still with the lopsided grin.
“Hardly.” Maddie stared straight ahead. At least she could see where we were going. The sunlight dried up to a trickle like a creek in the summertime, leaving me with a view of nothing more than a dark green blur flying past my window. Trees crowded the edge of the road, and the lanes weren’t very wide to begin with.
Our house was outside the dense, developed part of Knoxville, tucked into the foothills of the Smoky Mountains. The road followed the terrain, mostly weaving along the cold, rocky streams. But it wasn’t long before I felt the Jeep begin to climb. Dad eased off the gas sporadically as we cut back and forth, following a ridge up the side of a mountain to the east of town.
“So far, so good.” Mom took her eyes off the road to pull out a map. She struggled to find room to unfold it.
“Don’t worry.” Dad leaned into a turn. “I got it.”
My ears popped as we started up a steeper section, and something shifted in the back. At least we were headed uphill, so the water jugs weren’t falling all over me.
“Which way are you going now?” Mom asked, still trying to check out the map. It was folded in half, not about to go back the way it had been before.
The map flew out of her hands when we hit a bump. Despite being weighted down, I rose out of my seat to bang my head against the steel frame of the Jeep.
While I was busy checking my scalp for blood, Mom yelled, “Harold!”
“Sorry, everyone. Forgot how bad the road is.”
“Pothole, Pops?” Austin asked.
“More like off-roading,” Maddie chimed in. “Is that even a street?”
“Sure, kiddo.” Dad slowed before he punished the Jeep again on another bump. “But that’s why we left the Honda at home.”
Mom retrieved the map, and modified her earlier question. “You do know where you’re going?”
I wondered that myself. The forest had really closed in on us. I couldn’t even see pavement next to me, making me think we were on more of a driveway. The tires rumbled, and I tilted my head enough to get a look in the rear view mirror. A cloud of white dust followed behind us in the tunnel-like opening between the trees.
“Sure…call it Plan C. Just taking a little gravel to avoid the roadblock at Miller’s corner.”
Mom raised an eyebrow. “How’d you know one’s there?”
“I’ve been getting out some too, you know…checking things out.”
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I wondered when but didn’t say anything. It must’ve been while I was off at school.
I couldn’t help but think about my friends. The first was Joe, who was probably at home oblivious, watching old DVD’s or gaming. But I especially thought of Katelyn. Though I didn’t know what exactly my family was prepared for, worry for her took over my thoughts. Odd as it seemed, I figured we had to be better prepped than her family for whatever was in store for us.
Mom tilted her head even farther and squinted through her eyelashes like she was looking at the sun. Her voice became as sweet as syrupy iced tea.
“Aww, Harold. You really did check out all my bug out routes. How nice.”
“Puke.” Maddie fished a finger from beneath a duffel bag, but had to lean over to make a gagging motion.
She nearly made herself vomit when the Jeep hit a hole and bounced again.
There was a huge thump in the back that sounded like the wheels really did break off. We kept rolling as Maddie said, “That wasn’t the tubs, was it?”
I imagined them cracked open, scattering our stuff all over the dusty road. I craned my neck as far as I could get, but couldn’t see over the water jug mountain behind me. Austin and Mom didn’t have any more success.
“You better pull over, darling,” Mom said.
Dad was scrunched down in his seat, futilely trying to look out the rear view mirror.
“I had that stuff bound tight. It’s not going anywhere.”
We hit another bump, and Mom more firmly said, “Harold, please. Don’t ruin the mission being stubborn.”
“Fine.”
If he pulled off to the side, I didn’t notice. It seemed like we just stopped in the middle of the road. I reached for the door handle, but couldn’t get to it without moving another heavy bag, or two, first.
The cloud of white dust following the Jeep kept on coming, enveloping us in a type of fog like you’d see on the mountain sides in the mornings, or just after a rainstorm. It hadn’t rained in an unusually long time, hence the dust.
“Let me out,” Maddie complained.
“Hang on, I’m trying.”
Austin pulled the lock up on his door and manually popped it open. He practically tumbled into a bush, as the force of a loosened load propelled him out of the vehicle. It was as if we’d been riding pressurized like a submarine.
“Little help, Pops,” I said as Dad walked past, headed to the back. Even though I tapped my forehead on the window, he kept going. The determined look on his face rivaled any look I’d ever seen on him; more so than simply poring over the numbers of some client’s financial statement.
Maddie tried to slide out Austin’s side and tipped over, burying her face in his vacated seat. Rather than try to get up, she stayed there and whimpered like a puppy.
I sat for a moment longer without moving, wondering why all the mission, stakeout, bug out talk wasn’t as shocking as it should’ve been. The reason was obvious. I’d be trained for years to expect the overly excitable silliness. A couple years before, we’d left town at a moment’s notice because Mom heard the remnants of a tropical storm were coming our way. It rained a lot and power was out for a week, but it was far from the end of the world.
I realized that was the curse of being a prepper’s son. With endless planning and false alarms, nothing could shock me anymore. Or so I thought.
Mostly, at that point, the trip seemed like another ridiculous vacation. Or maybe a bug out trial run like the phony fire alarms at school where Joe would try to get me to goof off with him. Sometimes I wondered if he’d been the one who’d pulled the alarm.
If this was only a drill, Mom and Dad seemed a whole lot more on edge than the teachers ever did.
Once I finally brought myself back to reality, the dust fog had cleared to leave a dusky orange glow. There couldn’t have been much daylight left, but at least Dad would have plenty of time to repack the load—so long as it wasn’t spread halfway down the mountain. Fortunately, Austin was out of the Jeep to help him. I’d make it out eventually if I tried harder.
I finally managed to get my hand close enough to the side to brush my fingers over the window controls. I gave up on opening the door for the moment, settling for some fresh air. The button mashed down, but nothing happened.
“Seriously, child locks.”
Mom was still planted in the front seat under a load of backpacks.
“Not now, hon.” She kept staring out Dad’s open door. “Your father’s taking a long time.” Her fingers drummed on the top pack. “Harold, is everything alright?”
“Fine, darling.”
“Then what’s-”
Mom’s words were cut short by a deep, gigantic boom. The blast rumbled, echoing through the valley, shaking the Jeep.
It wasn’t close, but still reminded me of an earthshaking thunderclap. Maddie covered her ears and screamed, and she wasn’t one to be frightened of storms.
Dad ran back to his seat and yanked the door closed. “That’s not thunder!”
CHAPTER 8
Austin dove back into the car like a battering ram. Luckily for Maddie, she’d already sat up at the sound of the explosion. My brother’s eyes were even darker and wilder than normal. I hadn’t seen him move that fast ever, except when he was driving, of course.
Dad mashed his foot on the gas before Austin had the door closed. The tires slung gravel into the wheel wells. If I could’ve gripped something other than luggage, I’d have held on for dear life. Maybe I did anyway.
“The load’s fine, but we’d better get where we’re going.”
I had to strain to hear Mom over the sound of the tires skidding on gravel. “Is that what I think it was?”
Dad’s shoulders hunched forward. I leaned in as far as I could, but only heard him say, “Yeah.”
“Close?”
“Not really,” He paused to look behind us. “But I really don’t like this dust cloud.”
“Better that than headlights.” Mom patted him on the shoulder. “Maybe they’ll mistake it for smoke.”
“They’d better.”
I decided that was the end of me not getting any answers, even though it turned out I didn’t necessarily want to know.
“What are you two talking about?” I asked sharply.
“Your father needs to concentrate on the road,” Mom replied without looking back.
“What is going on? Bombs and smoke and people watching our house. I demand answers.”
Austin inserted himself into the conversation. “Ooh, Mom, Zach’s demanding answers.”
“You care to explain things to me, brother?”
“Uhm, no. Not really.”
If Maddie hadn’t been in the way, I might’ve tried to slug him. Instead, she sided with me in my quest for the truth.
“Seriously, Mom, please tell us what’s going on,” she said, surprising me with the sudden firmness in her normally high-pitched, soft voice.
“I said I would…later.”
I bit my lip almost hard enough to draw blood, and had to force myself to keep from snarling when I said, “That’s not good enough.”
“Fine,” Mom huffed. “We’re not going on an early vacation.”
“No sh-”
The Jeep swerved hard to the side, stealing my breath as the wheels gripped for traction. Branches brushed against the window on my side, and I jerked my head away reflexively. The crash I expected didn’t materialize, and Dad regained control.
On some of these roads, we would’ve been lucky to hit a tree. They were the only thing to keep us from plummeting to the bottom of a wooded canyon.
“Whew,” Dad said. “That was a close one.”
“No sh-”
Mom whipped her head around, and I choked on the words—again.
“It’s plain and simple, kids,” she said. “Things have gotten to the point that it’s not safe around home anymore. And not just because the Feds are watching us.”
Most people might’ve th
ought having officers watching your house was a good thing, like some kind of police protection. But I knew it wasn’t reassuring when they were out to get you.
“Meaning what’s not safe?” Maddie asked.
“Everything, genius, “Austin said.
His head was resting against the window—not the smartest move. I couldn’t keep from chuckling when Dad hit another bump, sending him into the same support bar I’d smacked earlier.
“You’re being so vague,” Maddie said. She made a point of ignoring Austin. “Like what, Mom.”
“We just need to beat the roadblock and get up to camp before everything goes to hell. Literally.”
“It’s coming any second.” Dad sighed. “Martial law is supposed to be a response to lawlessness, but it’s only creating more of it because of the way they oppress us.”
Maddie shook her head. “I’m not sure what you mean…”
“There’s no freedom, no travel, with soldiers around to enforce a curfew,” Mom explained. “You can’t put people into a cage and expect them not to fight their way out.”
“Or eat their young,” Dad added.
“Nice,” I muttered, realizing in some uncertain way that the government had apparently continued to ratchet down on their citizens’ freedoms until the point that some were willing to fight back. At that moment, I wasn’t sure if my parents were one of those types, or just people who’d rather hide under a rock until the world got straightened out. Even the concept of fighting back seemed like a death wish, though I was quickly understanding the reason why people might try.
I swallowed down a ball of anxiety and snuck a sidelong glimpse at Maddie. For someone who used to stay up until all hours of the night video chatting with her friends, she looked exhausted. I figured her sleep patterns must have changed when we’d lost our phones. She was probably out of practice when it came to staying up late, but it was barely sunset. And there was definitely no shortage of whining.
I could relate.
If I could’ve gotten an arm out, I would’ve wrapped it around her or let her rest on my shoulder. Instead, her head drooped forward. She used the duffel bag like a hard lumpy pillow, burying her face into it.