“Hey, man! Good to see you! Although, you look terrible.”
“Thanks,” Nathan said, grinning. “You look like someone I still want to punch.”
They laughed like friends who’d only seen each other in a bar the night before, the way the kinds of friends could when they slipped back into each other’s worlds. As if time had stood still. And when the laughs passed, Nathan quickly caught Stryker up with the situation.
“I knew things were bad outside the city, but I didn’t realize it was that bad.”
“It’s taken us nearly two weeks to travel a hundred and fifty miles. If the weather reports are accurate, there’s another ice storm coming in, too. Who knows what that’s gonna do to our progress.”
“Dude, you get your ass here and your worries will be over.”
Cyndi’s hand squeezed Nathan’s shoulder. “You make it sound perfect, Stry. Nothing is perfect. Not anymore.”
“No, I admit it’s not perfect.”
Ah, now, here it comes.
“Man, It’s better than perfect.”
Typical Stryker, Nathan thought as his high school friend reached out of the shot, picked up a towel, and started to dry his hair vigorously.
“You’re what, four hundred miles away? Say you can get here in another month or so. Maybe quicker if the weather turns. I’ll have you a house sorted by then, a patch of land to grow your own food under glass, school for Tony…”
Cyndi reached over, catching his attention with her wave. “How are the hospitals, Stry?”
Without hesitation, Stryker answered, “Perfect, honey. The hospitals are probably the best in the country. Why? Is somebody ill… or does Nathan need his balls re-attached again?”
Cyndi shook her head and looked down at her belly. “Quite the opposite, Stryker; quite the opposite.”
Stryker spent the next few minutes extolling the virtues of Detroit, its public services, its thriving economy based on barter and donated work hours. How food was growing in hydroponic centers like new-hanging gardens of Babylon. And how, magnificently, it was the only place in the north of the country that had been prepared for worsening winters. Because of the work folks had done over the last decade to combat the effects of global warming, it was better placed than any other city in the U.S. to ride out the Big Winter and the crazy change in the sky. “It’s the jewel in the crown of America, dude. The jewel in the crown.”
“You don’t work for the Detroit Tourist Authority, by any chance, do you?” Nathan asked with joshing sarcasm.
Stryker pulled on a hideous Hawaiian shirt. “Dude, if they didn’t already have one, I’d be the first to set it up!” Stryker finished with a smile so wide it threatened to meet around the back of his head.
“You’re really going to head northwest?”
Betty was collecting up the blankets and pillows from the booths and had overheard some of the conversation with Stryker before the cable internet went into one of its intermittent phases and they lost the connection.
“I think so, yes.” Nathan couldn’t help feeling a niggle of anxiety about Stryker’s full-on hard sell for Detroit, but Cyndi’s mind had been made up already, even before she’d heard about the schools and hospitals.
“Everyone who’s stopped here in the last month has been heading south,” Betty continued, picking up the folded blankets in her plump arms.
Marty was cleaning surfaces in the kitchen that he’d already cleaned three times before. Betty followed Nathan’s gaze. “He’s happy enough.”
“You don’t want to head south?” he asked gently.
Betty shook her head. “How would I cope with Marty? He knows this place. It’s… what do they call it... imprinted? Maybe if the Big Winter had come two years ago, before… well, before Marty’s difficulties begun. Maybe then…”
Betty looked into Nathan’s eyes, and he could tell she was near enough reading his mind. “I guess you were imprinted, too, on your place.”
He nodded.
“Thing is, Nathan, you’ve got the chance to get out and make a difference to the lives of your family. You should take it. I just don’t know if northwest is the right direction. If Detroit is so damn amazing, why have we been getting so many people going south?”
That hadn’t occurred to Nathan at all. Could it simply be put down to most people not knowing Detroit was doing well? Or could it be that only getting his facts from one source wasn’t the best way of going about things?
The shifting sands of his resolve moved a little beneath him, her question coupled with the too good to be trueness of Stryker’s hard-sell on Detroit setting off alarms in his head. But could he risk not taking Cyndi, in her state, to Detroit? It was certainly the nearest settlement to them that would afford, on Stryker’s word, real medical care for his wife.
Again, Nathan felt pulled in two directions that he didn’t like. He went outside to the parking lot to get some air and saw Freeson lifting the hood of a turquoise 1990 80-Series Turbo Diesel Toyota Land Cruiser that was parked between the trucks. It hadn’t been visible when they’d rolled in. Freeson was looking it over and Nathan could already see that Lucy sat inside the vehicle, looking at her reflection in the rearview mirror and straightening her hair with her fingers. While Nathan had been on the computer talking to Stryker, they’d been busy looking for other transport.
“Cutting out on us?” Nathan asked as he approached.
Freeson uncurled from where he’d been staring into the engine. “Of course not! This is Marty’s old truck. He doesn’t need it anymore, according to Betty. Figured we could do with a back-up in case anything happened to the Dodge. More storage for supplies and diesel. Makes sense.”
“And I could buy six of these new for what I gave them with the bracelet.” Lucy had wound down the window and stuck her oar into the conversation. “I believe I can take whatever I want.”
Nathan thought Lucy might be the kind of person who’d believe that in any situation, but bit back the retort.
Free closed the hood of the Toyota with a tinny thump that echoed across the parking lot. “But if you think it’s a bad idea, compadre, just say the word.”
“Oh, so this isn’t a democracy,” Lucy said tartly as she began re-applying her lipstick around her perfect mouth.
Freeson looked a little uncomfortably in Lucy’s direction, but like Nathan, he didn’t rebuke her rudeness. Nathan could see that, in a short time, because of this crisis throwing them together, he and Lucy were already stuck to each other. Whether it was mutual respect, love at first sight, or one using the other to fill a physical or emotional hole, the jury was still out. But Nathan could see he was dealing with a single unit now, not a pair of individuals.
Nathan also knew that anything he did to send this unit away from his family would lessen his family’s own chances of survival. Freeson and Lucy would probably be a better prospect for Syd and Saber, too. Maybe he needed to think about the needs of the whole group equally. Both Lucy and Syd had contributed much to the overall progress of the company. Family First might mean putting Nathan’s own concerns on hold.
Freeson asked, “So, is that an okay, boss?”
Lucy’s lips turned down at Freeson’s use of the word ‘boss’—but she’d obviously decided not to stir the pot anymore.
“Yes.” Nathan held up his palms, offering “It’s a sound idea to have a back-up truck as long as there’s enough diesel for our needs.”
“Only four hundred miles to Detroit,” Freeson said, kicking the tires on the Toyota.
And that was that.
The cable didn’t come back on before the ice storm hit.
And with the weather, the diner shook as if was made of cardboard, but the shuttered windows held, and the generator giving all the power and heat kept the worst of the storm at bay.
They’d managed to fill all their diesel cans from the tanker, though, and gotten them back to the Airstream before the storm came. Betty had found them a bunch of other cans out back to
put in the back of the Toyota, too, even if Lucy had complained bitterly about having to travel to within just a few feet of that “terrible smell of hydrocarbons.” Freeson had ended up covering the jerry cans with plastic sheeting and hanging up a hundred air freshener strips he’d found in the gas station store to alleviate the stench of fuel.
They finished getting their supplies organized just an hour before the storm hit. This meant that, as soon as it passed, Nathan figured they’d be able to hit the road quickly enough. He hadn’t figured on the storm lasting for two whole days.
For those two days, the diner was blown, battered, and shaken. Having the shutters down at the front of the diner during the onslaught affected Marty the most. On and off, he’d become morose or agitated. When that happened, Betty would take him in back and sit him next to the cassette player—and as time went on, they all became experts in the lyrics of Elvis songs. Even Syd, who had never heard of Elvis before.
“Kinda cool,” she said of him as the first evening wore on and Marty’s tape cycled through for the third time, “but he still sounds like history.”
Nathan slid in beside her in the booth. “You ready to talk?”
“Rather listen to Elvis.”
Tony was on the other side of the diner now, cuddled up with Saber. Cyndi had gone out back to help out Betty, and Freeson was sitting quietly with Lucy, attending to Betty’s bourbon—happily, with less gusto than the night before. Lucy’s hair was tied back and she wore one of Freeson’s sweatshirts. Nathan hadn’t seen the fur coat all day, apparent security blanket that it was. Their unit. Growing stronger.
They were smiling at each other, too. Freeson said something, and Lucy threw her head back in a full and throaty laugh. There was an edge of salaciousness to it that Nathan recognized as a reaction to one of Freeson’s more risqué stories. The sort of stories Freeson hadn’t told Nathan since before the accident. Lucy might be a piece of work, but she was already showing that, in whatever capacity their relationship was developing, she was good for Freeson.
Syd broke into his thoughts. “I said, ‘I’d rather listen to Elvis.’ Do you usually glaze over when someone answers your questions? It doesn’t make me trust you more, ya know. In fact, it has the opposite effect.”
Nathan snapped his head back in Syd’s attention. “Sorry.”
“She’s trouble, ya know,” the girl added.
“Lucy being any more trouble than you?”
Syd grinned at the joke, but answered, “I’ve seen her kind before. She’s a user. You want to make sure she doesn’t break your friend’s heart. Because as soon as something better for her comes along, she’s going to grab what’s new and shiny with both hands.”
Impressed by the measure of Syd’s maturity, Nathan thought it sounded again like she was speaking from bitter experience. “Who did that to you?” he pressed.
Syd’s eyes flashed. Her lips set, and Nathan thought he was in for another example of her clamming up, but eventually her eyes and mouth softened. “Maybe I wasn’t entirely on the level with you.”
Nathan didn’t say what was in his head—Ya think? But Syd caught the gist of it.
“Every time I’ve let someone in since my dad left, I’ve been damaged. Yeah, I know, that sounds dramatic, but, Nate—seriously, every time. My mom’d get a new man, I’d give him the benefit of the doubt, and he’d either be a waster, using us for a place to crash, or beat on Mom or me or both, or… well, hell, I don’t need to tell you the other things he did with me. And then there was Danny,” she went on before Nathan could process or react to what she’d said. “I thought Danny would help me and Mom—she had a habit, and he had a gang, and access to pills, and he liked me. Said he loved me… and, again, he was just another user. User loser. So, no, I don’t open up easy. Not anymore.”
Nathan met her eyes evenly, holding them. “Well, you just did.”
Syd blinked, and blinked again. “Guess I did.”
“Should I be flattered?”
“Maybe. But just make sure my trust isn’t beaten up and used like usual. I’ve gotten good with a gun,” she added pointedly.
Nathan snorted. “Yes, you have.”
It was the most words he’d heard coming out of Syd’s mouth in one conversation, outside of with Tony and Saber, and he couldn’t help being surprised by the level of detail she’d given him. Here was a child forced into becoming a woman far too early. The shrapnel from that process, an explosion of emotions that were still spinning up from ground zero. The paternalistic bloom grew in him again, and he wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms, like he would have Tony, and squeeze the hurt away. But he was sure she wasn’t ready for that kind of response. Her face alone told him that maybe she thought she’d gone too far.
“It’s okay,” he told her. “I won’t tell anyone. Not until you’re ready.”
Syd smiled, leaned across the narrow table, and kissed Nathan’s cheek. “No funny ideas, okay? That’s just for being a stand-up guy. They’re a premium commodity these days.”
And so the storm blew itself out on the second night, and the day blossomed cold and gray. The ice storm had left the vehicles in the lot bearded with snow and icicles, which Tony had a great time going around breaking off and throwing like sticks for Saber to retrieve.
Cyndi had negotiated for some more food supplies with Betty—getting a good selection of frozen meats, which she worked with Syd to stow in a large plastic freezer box, which she’d also acquired from Marty’s Trucker Love—on the premise that keeping the meat on the exposed back of the wrecker would keep the meat fresh and frozen. The air temperature was very rarely rising above freezing, after all, even in direct sunlight.
Once the Dodge, Airstream, and Toyota were ready to head off, Betty and Marty came out, wrapped in parkas with their hoods up and scarves across their faces. “Goodbye and good luck,” Betty said as she began a round of hugs that even included Lucy. Betty squeezed Nathan so hard he thought his eyes would pop, and told him, “You’re a good man, Nathan. It’s been a pleasure to have you here.”
“You sure you won’t change your mind and come with us? There’s plenty of room now we have the Land Cruiser.”
“Leave?” Marty said with some disdain. “Leave my business and my people? Don’t be a fool, boy. We’re on course for our best winter ever, and as soon as summer comes, we’ll be set up for life!”
Betty hooked her arm through Marty’s. “That’s right; we’ll be set up for life.”
She smiled at Nathan, and both of them waved the convoy off to load up.
Freeson led the wrecker and Airstream combo back onto the ramp and the highway.
Cyndi drove the Dodge and Nathan craned his neck back as much as he could. Betty and Marty stayed there waving until he could see them no longer—the trees lining the highway, heavy with their new layers of snow and ice, blocking the view.
“You liked them, didn’t you?”
Nathan tuned his head back to face the road, watching the Land Cruiser skittering a little as Freeson got to grips with an unfamiliar car on the icy, snowbound road ahead of them.
“Yes. How could I not? Good people.”
“Marty reminded you of your dad.”
He paused, acknowledging the point. “Yeah. That forgetfulness and optimism. That was him all over. He would have stayed in their position, too. It would have been the best option.”
Inside Nathan, all the anxieties of not knowing if he was doing the right thing swirled below his breastbone. Nathan knew he had to let those feeling go, though. The decision to go to Detroit had been made. He was in a minority of one in having any doubts at all, it seemed, and he really didn’t need to be transmitting his worries to all of the others.
It would be okay.
Family First.
He glanced back through the window, trying to get one last look at the truck stop and its occupants.
Nathan felt he couldn’t see the woods for the trees because of the woods and the trees.
Life imitating his concerns perfectly.
The warmth of the cab, and the smoothness of this section of the highway, soon caught up with Nathan, and he felt himself drifting on the cusp of sleep, the gentle rocking of the Dodge carrying him away on the lullaby of engine noise.
He only opened his eyes when Cyndi started screaming.
11
Where the Land Cruiser had been on the road ahead, was a rising billow of fresh snow, as if something had exploded beneath the tarmac and sent up gusts of ice crystals. Nathan woke in a panic as Cyndi hit the brakes hard, the wheels of the Dodge slithering so that the truck partially jackknifed, bringing Nathan’s side window to face forward. His hands were dug into the dash and his eyes were blinking in the harsh light.
Syd and Tony’s hands had thumped on the back of the driver and passenger seats in an effort to steady themselves, and Saber barked furiously until the Dodge slew to a halt.
The wrecker’s hood and roof rattled as lumps of snow and ice fell from the plume of smoky white, landing on the Dodge like fat rain.
“What? What happened?” Syd leaned forward from the crew cab as Saber barked beside her.
Nathan shook his head. “I don’t know. Where the hell is the Cruiser?”
As the falling icy debris abated, and the air in front of them began to clear, first the tail lights, and then the back wheels and the rear window of the Land Cruiser became visible.
A hole had opened up in the road ahead of it—perhaps it had been covered in snow, filled in by the ice storm. Or it had been set as a trap to catch vehicles in just this fashion.
“Get the guns,” Cyndi said, her voice cracking. “I see one Ski-Doo and I’m going to end them. Whoever they are.”
Nathan pulled a Glock from under his seat in the crew cab. It felt thick and unfamiliar in his hand, but he knew Cyndi was right. Until they knew this wasn’t a trap, they’d need to be on guard.
Cyndi and Syd took AR-15s, and Nathan pushed Tony back into the cab as he tried to follow him outside. “No. Stay there with Saber. Keep your head down until I tell you it’s clear, okay?”
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