by Claire Kent
“Right or left?” Travis asks, glancing over at me.
I shrug. “Right? That’s the way it looks like the trail goes. But what the hell do I know?”
“You know ’bout as much as me.” He turns to the right and drives parallel to the river. There’s not really a trail. Just packed dirt and some freedom from the encroaching half-dead trees.
We drive for thirty minutes, and I’m starting to despair that we’ll never see anything but trees and sky and the muddy water of the river.
Then I catch a glimpse of something in the distance.
“Look!” I point. “Is that an old bridge?”
“Don’t know. It’s somethin’.”
He speeds up until we see that it is indeed an old bridge.
We also see at the same time that it’s totally impassable now.
“Thing must be a hundred years old,” Travis mutters, his face reflecting my disappointment. “Must’ve been a road passin’ through here at some point, but it’s mostly grown over now.”
He gestures behind us, and I see the dirt and gravel he’s talking about. There was a road.
A long time ago. Too long ago to help us.
While I’ve been peering at the old road, Travis has been studying the bridge and river. “Picked a good spot for the bridge.”
I see what he’s talking about. The slopes on the side of the river here aren’t nearly as steep. It’s not sheer rock either—just a mixture of gravel and dirt and weeds.
“You think we can cross here?” I ask, perking up for the first time all day.
“Don’t know. It’d be rough. The river don’t look too deep here. And I think this old girl might could manage those banks. But...”
I wait for him to finish, but he doesn’t. “If you’re not sure, we can keep going until we find a real bridge. On a road.”
“Yeaaah.”
“You don’t like that idea?”
“Not really. Maria said to stay away from the roads. I believe her. And bridges would be dangerous. Nastier sort of folks would use ’em as choke points.”
I hadn’t even thought of that, and the idea makes me shiver. “So which do you think would be less dangerous? Crossing here or trying for a bridge?”
Travis turns to look at me for the first time since we’ve stopped. “I dunno, Layne. I really don’t. Both have their risks. Which would you prefer?”
“Honestly, I’d rather try to cross here. But you’re more outdoorsy than I am, so you’ll know better than me. If you really think it’s too dangerous, I trust you.”
Something flickers on his face. “Yeah?”
“Of course yeah.” I frown at him. “Of course I trust you. So which do you think we should do?”
He sits for a long time, and I can see he’s thinking, trying to decide. He looks painfully torn. He finally murmurs, “I just wanna keep you safe.”
I touch his arm gently. “You have kept me safe, Travis. You are keeping me safe. There aren’t any guarantees in this. Just choose as best you can.”
“Your instincts are good, and you wanna cross here. I kinda want to cross here too.” He nods, his expression clearing now that he’s decided. “So let’s try it.”
“Okay. Let’s go then. I’m ready.”
I’M NOT READY.
I will never be ready.
I never want to do anything like this crossing again.
Just getting down to the water is hard enough. The slope is passable, but the rocks are loose, and several times the wheels lose traction and slip. I cling to the support bar beside me and bite my lip to keep from making any noise.
Travis’s knuckles are white on the steering wheel, and his teeth are clenched so hard I can almost hear them grinding.
We make it down eventually, but then we have to drive out into the water.
It hasn’t rained much in the past year, so the river is really low. That’s the one saving grace. Despite how muddy the water is, I can see glimpses of the bottom.
It seems like it shouldn’t be that hard to get across.
What it seems is wrong.
The water comes up higher on the vehicle than I expected, and it pushes at us hard. Several times I’m afraid we’re going to get swept away. And there are rocks on the bottom of the river. We get stuck a couple of times, and Travis has to rock us back and forth to get us loose.
Both of us are soaked from the splashing water and from sweat when we finally reach the far side.
I’m relieved.
I think the worst is over.
I don’t know anything.
Travis does. He hasn’t relaxed. In fact, his body is tighter than ever as he tries to drive the Jeep up onto the opposite bank.
We get up on to the dry land, but then the slope gets a lot steeper. The wheels spin helplessly against the loose dirt and gravel on the first try, so Travis backs up and accelerates more to try it again.
Rocks fly out everywhere with a painful grinding sound. The vehicle just can’t get traction.
“Damn it!” Travis’s voice echoes against the rocky slopes.
I don’t say anything. I sit perfectly still and cling to the bar.
He tries it a third time and fails again. Then he puts the Jeep in park. “Slide over here, Layne. I’m gonna push.”
“What? You’re going to push?”
“Yeah. Not gonna get this thing up otherwise. And I really don’t wanna ditch it if we don’t have to.”
I swallow hard and do as he says when he climbs out onto the wet ground. But I hate the idea. Surely it’s not safe for Travis to be standing behind this thing as it’s going up this bank. He’s going to get all cut up with flying rocks. And I’m not entirely convinced the Jeep won’t roll backward right on top of him when we start to go up the steepest part of the slope.
I don’t argue. Just get in position and wait.
“Okay,” he says, standing behind me with his hands braced widely on the back of the cargo compartment. “Start slow and then give it some gas when I tell you.”
“All right.”
I put my foot on the gas pedal. I’m shaking helplessly as it lurches forward.
Travis is moving with me. Just as we’re approaching the steep part, he yells, “Now!”
I lower my foot, and the Jeep surges forward. I feel the wheels start to spin, but Travis is behind, pushing and grunting like an animal. Dirt and rocks are flying everywhere, and I’m terrified for him. But I feel us scale the grade with a jerk, and then the Jeep has found traction again.
It’s driving normally.
I cheer loudly, and I hear Travis shouting in victory behind me. I’m not stupid enough to stop until I’ve reached mostly level ground. Then I put it in park and jump out, running back to find Travis.
He’s still standing where I left him, bending over.
“Oh my God, Travis, are you okay?” My swell of elation has transformed into fear.
“I’m fine.” He grimaces as he straightens up. “Pulled a muscle or two.”
“You’re bleeding!”
He feels his forehead, which is dripping with blood. “Oh. That’s nothin’. Musta been from a chip of rock.”
“Well, get up here so I can doctor it up.”
He gives me a quirky smile as he starts to climb up the bank toward me. “I don’t need no doctorin’ up from—” His teasing tone breaks off with a loud exclamation, and he hits the ground amid a patch of loose rocks.
“Travis!”
“Don’t you dare come down here after me.” He’s already hefting himself up. He’s scowling like I’ve never seen him. “All we need is for you to sprain your ankle too.”
“Too?” I’m hugging myself with anxiety as I watch him moving toward me again. Limping this time. “Did you sprain your ankle?”
“Twisted it.”
His face is pale, and he’s dripping with sweat. He’s not moving well at all.
I smother my frantic exclamations of concern since I know they’ll upset him even more.
I manage to wait until he reaches me. “Here.” I wrap my arm around his waist. “Lean on me.”
“I don’t need to lean on you. I said I’m fine.”
He’s not fine, and both of us know it. His ankle must be hurting like hell if his pale face and strained expression are any indication. And he does actually put some of his weight on me as we hobble to the Jeep.
He starts for the driver’s side, but I steer him away. “I’ve got it. It’s your right foot that’s hurt, so how are you planning to drive?”
He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need to answer.
He sits down, panting hoarsely and wiping his face with his shirt.
Then he slams his hands down on the surface of the vehicle in front of him. “Fuck!”
I don’t blame him for his outburst. He’s got to be in pain, and he hates to feel helpless.
Travis with a sprained ankle is the last thing we need.
I go to the back to our first aid supplies and find a bandage and antiseptic salve for his forehead and a compression wrap we took from the drugstore.
“Here.” I crouch down beside the passenger seat so I can reach his ankle. “Let me wrap it at least. That might help keep it from swelling a little.”
He grumbles but lets me take off his shoe and sock and then wrap up his ankle.
It already looks terrible. It’s going to swell up like crazy.
“I wish we had ice,” I say. One of those stupid, futile comments that everyone says now and then.
Remembering when things were better. Easier.
“It’ll be fine.” He’s not angry now. But he’s slumped, and that makes me feel even worse.
I clean up the blood on his forehead and bandage the cut. It’s not very deep. Just bleeding a lot.
“Let me get you some ibuprofen. At least that might help with the pain.”
I grab one of our bottles and dump out a few pills. I hand them to Travis with a bottle of water. Then I spill out a couple more pills for me and take the water from him to swallow them myself.
“Still got cramps?” he asks, his eyes on my face.
“Yeah. Not as bad though. All this drama distracted me.”
He gives a soft snort, so I feel better.
“It’s gettin’ late,” Travis says as I close the cargo compartment and move to the driver’s seat. “We should be lookin’ for some place to camp for the night.”
“I guess we won’t be lucky enough to find a cabin again tonight.”
“Doubt it. We’re in the middle of nowhere here. Better that way though. At least the middle of nowhere is safer.”
“I know.”
I’m praying as I start off.
I haven’t prayed in ages. Years. But for some reason I pray now.
And it’s a minor thing to pray for. Not really important in the scheme of things.
But Travis feels strangely defeated beside me, and it’s upsetting me.
We really need a safe place to spend the night.
WE’VE BEEN DRIVING for fifteen minutes when I slow down abruptly.
Travis grunts and grabs for the support bar. “What’s the matter?”
“Look.” I point to the right.
“What am I lookin’ at?”
“There’s another trail there.”
“So?”
“So it looks like it goes somewhere.”
Travis is frowning and still sweating and looking grumpier than ever. “No way to know that.”
“Then why does it turn off here? It goes up the hill there. It looks like it goes somewhere. Maybe it’s a cabin or something like we found yesterday.”
“Or maybe it’s nothin’. A scenic view or somethin’. Not likely to find a cozy cabin around here.”
I’m annoyed, and my face is showing it. “Well, it’s worth a try, isn’t it?”
“Waste of time.”
I accelerate and turn onto the new trail I’ve found.
“I said it’s a waste of time,” Travis grumbles.
“I don’t care what you said. I’m driving, and I think this trail goes somewhere. I think it’s worth a try. So shut up and stop your whining. If you’re going to act like an ass because you hurt yourself, you can sit there and keep your mouth shut.”
Travis doesn’t reply, and it’s a minute before I glance over to check his expression. I can’t read it.
“I didn’t mean to snap at you,” I say in a milder tone.
He snorts softly. “I deserved it. I was bein’ an ass. Sorry.”
I smile at him before I have to focus on keeping the Jeep on the trail. It’s narrow and steep with a lot of curves, and it’s covered with dead branches. I’m not sure we would have even made it in a different vehicle.
“You really think this is goin’ somewhere?”
I give him a quick glance. He’s still visibly in pain, but he’s making an effort to not be so ornery. “Doesn’t it feel like it is?”
“Maybe.”
He sounds doubtful, but I ignore it. I press on, and for once my persistence is rewarded.
We finally break out of the trees and drive into a large clearing on the top of the hill.
It’s a house.
A very strange-looking house, but a house nonetheless.
“Ha! Told you!” Yes, I’m petty enough to say it out loud. He kind of deserves it.
“What is this place?” Travis asks, stretching out from under the top of the vehicle so he can get a better look.
“Looks like a house, doesn’t it?”
I can understand his question, however. The building is odd.
The house is only one floor, and the siding is unpainted wood shingles. But the roof is covered with reflective panels, and there’s a lot of strange equipment on one side. The only thing I recognize is what looks like an industrial-sized propane tank.
“Are those solar panels on the roof?” I ask, still trying to get a sense of what we’re looking at.
“Looks like it. Drive around to the side there.” He points to the mechanism on one of the back corners.
I drive over, and I can see Travis looking, assessing, putting pieces together.
“Thought so,” he says at last. “Solar generator.”
“You’re kidding! Out in the middle of nowhere like this?”
“And that back there is definitely a water well. Looks like a manual pump, but he’s got it rigged up to go into the house. Bet there’s running water in here.”
I grip the steering wheel and peer at the setup. “It sure is weird-looking.”
“It’s probably a homemade job. Whoever did this really wanted to live off the grid.”
“That’s true of a lot of people.”
“Sure. But setting this place up had to take years. He started long before impact. We’re gonna have to be careful. Someone like that ain’t gonna cut and run. Might be here. And he’s not gonna want visitors. Drive us out to the front again.”
When I do as he says, Travis reaches over to tap on the horn a few times. Then he calls out, “Hello! Anyone there? We’re not looking for trouble. Just a safe place for the night. You want us to leave, we’ll leave. Anyone there?”
We wait for a couple of minutes, but there’s no sound, no movement.
“I don’t think anyone’s in there. Surely if someone was home, he’d either answer or shoot at us.”
Travis is frowning. “Maybe.” He honks the horn a few more times. “Anyone there?”
“It seems empty to me.”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll drive us around the whole perimeter so we can get a good look.”
“Good idea.”
We make a circuit of the house and find a large workshop in the back that looks just as empty as the house. Travis peers into a window of the workshop. “Hold up. There. Look.”
I lean over almost on top of him so I can see in too.
On the floor of the workshop is a body, lying facedown on the dirt floor.
Not really a body anymore.
&
nbsp; Mostly a skeleton wearing disintegrating, tattered clothes.
“Don’t get out,” Travis says. “Just pull up to the door. I wanna see what happened.”
I drive a few feet, and he tries to the door to the workshop. It’s not locked. Travis steps out and leans down.
I notice a hunting rifle lying next to the body. “Did he shoot himself?”
“Don’t see no gunshot holes. Or broken bones in his skull and neck. Maybe he had a heart attack or somethin’.”
“He was probably the owner of this house. Poor guy. Fit himself up for survival. He was probably so proud of himself for being prepared when disaster came. Then he went and had a heart attack one morning.”
Travis eyes are unusually soft on my face. “You think that’s what happened?”
“Don’t you?”
“Sure looks like it.” He nods. “All right. Then it’s worth a try to get into the house so we have somewhere to spend the night.”
I pull the Jeep up as close as I can to what looks like the easiest window to break. Travis limps over and slams the butt of his shotgun into it.
Both of us gasp when his gun bounces back. The window remains undamaged.
“Shit,” Travis breathes. “These windows are reinforced.”
“He really was prepared for survival.”
Travis steps back and eyes the side of the house. “I hate to kick that door in unless I have to, since we’d be real secure in there.”
“Wait! If he was working out there before he died, I bet he had a key on him. We should check.”
Travis is giving me that fond look again. I have no idea what’s prompting it. “Good thinkin’. Drive us back and I’ll check.”
I wait until Travis is back in the Jeep before I say, “I’ll check. You’re all injured and everything.”
He snorts in wry amusement and doesn’t argue.
I don’t actually enjoy feeling around in the clothes of a dead man to look for a key.
Fortunately, he’s just a skeleton now. I’m not sure I’d have been able to do this if he were still juicy and decaying.
I find the key on a string beneath his rib cage. He must have been wearing it around his neck.
We go back to the front door, and I unlock the door easily with the key, letting Travis step in first with his shotgun in position. “We’re comin’ in! Anyone home?”