Sol Survivors

by Ken Benton

  “We need help down here!” Joel and Debra yelled in unison. That may have been interesting to notice if it wasn’t for the emergency.

  “Can you move at all?” Debra asked him first, leaning at his side.

  “Yes,” the mailman answered. “But it hurts. I was going to try to climb up, but later.”

  “So you think you can stand?” Joel responded.

  “Yes, but it hurts, so I was thinking of crawling to the road, in a little while. Thank God you came along.”

  Through some poking, prodding, and further questioning, they learned the mailman could move all four of his limbs, though it seemed to result in extreme back pain, especially with pressure applied on his left leg.

  Archer and Jessie were not exactly fast responders. When they finally did arrive on the scene, they expressed more concern over the trucks still blocking the road than the welfare of the accident victim. Jessie suggested calling for help before embarrassingly remembering such a thing was not currently possible.

  Joel and Archer decided that carrying the mailman between them up the incline, in a way that least resulted in pressure on his left leg, was the best solution. Debra followed with a plastic bin of mail after picking it up from where it had been scattered. As far as they could tell it was the only contents of the truck. The mailman winced in agony several times during the climb, but overall expressed gratitude and as much enthusiasm for the project as one could hope for.

  “My truck bed has the most room,” Joel suggested to Archer. “If I we can move a few things around, and maybe a couple items over to yours…”

  “What are you proposing?” Jessie asked in an aggravated tone.

  Joel tried not to scold in his response. “I’ll hold him in the bed. You drive.”

  “Drive where?”

  “Back to the last town, of course. I think I noticed a hospital sign there.”

  “I did too,” Debra said.

  Jessie frowned. “I don’t know if I can turn the truck around on this narrow stretch of road.”

  “I’ll sit in the bed and hold him,” Debra said. “You drive, Joel.” Her authoritative tone ended the discussion.

  They made a soft area in the truck bed the best they could out of Joel’s tent and tarps, and managed to position the mailman there. Debra crouched next to him and held him in place by his shoulders. Through it all the postal carrier kept his death grip on his blue hat with both hands.

  Joel and Archer successfully reversed the truck positions making 7-point turns. Joel followed Archer back to Stanardsville. Jessie resumed her strained silence mode during the short trip, which was fine. The two trucks slowed at the detour roadblock, where Joel looked for the old man again, perhaps to solicit his help. But he seemed to have vanished now. Joel couldn’t even spot his chair.

  The medical center ended up being easy to find. It’s where most of the town’s population appeared to be loitering, being the only building that still had power. Fortunately, the urgent care room wasn’t busy with medical matters and the staff on hand responded with immediate help. Debra insisted on sticking around long enough to get an initial diagnosis from a doctor, which took the better part of an hour—during which Joel completed an accident report for a local sheriff. The mailman had some cracked ribs, a lumbar sprain, and a fracture in his thigh, but the staff didn’t believe surgery would be necessary for his recovery.

  Back on the road, Joel decided to play a Merle Haggard CD to revive his spirit. He knew Jessie wasn’t fond of it, but Joel needed medicine. Perhaps she was beginning to come around to country music, though, as Jessie did soften some, and became visibly happier to be moving forward again—especially when the detour ended to put them back on Highway 33 a couple miles past the scene of the accident.

  But by that time the sun was no longer overhead. Shadows began stretching from the west into the canyon. Tall Appalachian peaks still stood between them and the sanctuary of Interstate 81.

  Chapter Seven

  “At least we’re moving,” Jessie commented. “I don’t mind going slow if we make steady progress. Hope we get through to the interstate before it gets dark, though.”

  “I wouldn’t count on that, honey.” Joel leaned against the window to peek ahead of traffic. “It looks like everyone is being directed off the highway.”

  “Another detour?”

  “Not sure.” He pointed at her feet. “Does the map show any possible alternative route in this area?”

  “I’m not certain where we are on this thing.” She picked up the map and flapped it at him. “You want to navigate? I still haven’t had a turn at driving yet.”

  “Sure.” Joel smiled at her. “That’s a good idea.”

  The next time the green VW Vanagon in front of them came to a stop, Joel put his truck in park and they ran across the front of it to change seats. Joel slapped her butt as they passed. She giggled in response. Things were okay between them again. Before he climbed into the passenger seat, Joel saw Debra and Archer exercising the same maneuver behind them. He laughed.

  Now the women were driving—if you could call it that. This kind of stop and go congestion on a mountain road wasn’t doing their fuel supply any favors. Joel’s mental calculations would get them to the cabin on fumes if too much more of this lay ahead.

  “Joel, I see a sign now. It says, Swift Run Gap … Entrance Station.”

  “Good.” Joel stretched his neck to see. “We’re farther than I thought. Most of the way through the pass, in fact. The interstate is less than 25 miles away.”

  “And the bad news is,” Jessie responded, “I think they are corralling everyone into this weigh station thingy.”

  “That would be the entrance gate to the national park,” Joel said.

  “Oh. Shenandoah?”

  “Yep.”

  Jessie turned to him. “There does appear to be a crossroads here, if you are really interested in an alternate route.”

  Joel chuckled. “Skyline Drive. We don’t want that one. Will take much longer, even if the whole road is wide open. We’d be just as well off on the backpacking trail that runs alongside it.”

  “You mean the Appalachian Trail?”

  “That’s the one. Longest hiking trail in the country, you know. We could probably drive it in these vehicles, if absolutely necessary.”

  She frowned. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  “Let’s,” Joel said. “Because we won’t have the fuel needed for the trip if we are forced that way.”

  “Oh.” Jessie’s hopeful expression disintegrated. “Do we have enough to make it on the interstate?”

  “We should, yes. I’m actually glad to be stopping and turning the engine off. We have camping gear and plenty of supplies, so we can wait for roads to be cleared. It hasn’t been that bad, all things considered—although we haven’t made it very far yet. I was hoping to get through the mountains, but the fact that there has been no opposite direction traffic told me it was a pipe dream, even given the fact we haven’t seen any stalled cars on the highway since the detour ended. We’re fortunate to have the national park gate available to us here.”

  He rolled the window down. “And blessed with warm weather for April. Probably won’t get below forty tonight, even up here.”

  “Joel, I have a confession to make, and I hope you won’t be mad.”

  “What?”

  “I saw another crashed car off the side of the road a while back. I didn’t say anything, because I don’t want to stop any more. We need to worry about us. Do you think that makes me a bad person?”

  “You mean the blue Audi?”

  “Yes.” She tilted her head. “You saw it?”

  “Yeah, I saw it. There was another wreck on my side, too—but that one had gone over a steep bank and was smashed pretty bad a ways below.”

  “So, you agree with me, then?” Jessie’s tone sang with renewed enthusiasm. “That we need to take care of ourselves and not try to save the world?”

 
; “Mostly, yes.”

  “Well what made you want to stop and investigate the mail truck crash, then? Especially when it wasn’t even visible from the road?”

  Joel thought for a minute.

  “I don’t really know, to be honest. It was kind of weird. But I know why I didn’t want to stop for those other wrecks.”

  “Why?”

  “I didn’t think anyone was in desperate need of help,” Joel said. “Have you noticed most of the cars which are still operational are not late model vehicles? Specifically, not ones with navigation screens and GPS systems? I doubt that Audi survived the solar flare. And the other car I saw would not have been a survival crash. I also noticed widely-separated tire marks by the ledge where it went over, which makes me think it was pushed off sideways. The same might be true of the Audi. I bet someone has been clearing the road, like the old guy predicted.”

  “That would explain it,” Jessie said as she pulled forward to a man in a military uniform directing traffic off the highway. “But I noticed you never answered my question about thinking I’m a bad person.”

  Traffic was indeed being corralled into, and all around, the Swift Run Gap entrance station to Shenandoah National Park. A large lot surrounding the gate already had vehicles in every parking space. Passengers milled about between them. Jessie followed the Vanagon past the lot north on Skyline Drive for a hundred yards. Other cars had begun to stack up on this road a short ways ahead. Jessie managed to park in an overgrown pullout space that everyone else had passed on so far, snapping twigs and bending tree branches on the passenger side in order to do so. Debra did the same with Archer’s truck behind them, barely wedging in from the northbound traffic lane.

  “Good job,” Joel said. He wasn’t worried about scratches in the paint job, and was able to open the passenger door to get out without breaking more than a couple additional small branches.

  “Nice job,” a voice echoed. Joel ducked and stepped around the truck to see it had come from a young soldier, who tipped his camouflage hat and smiled at Jessie coming out the driver’s side. A semi-automatic rifle clung to his back.

  “What’s the highway situation?” Joel asked him.

  The soldier stood in place and replied, “Still blocked ahead, but we’re working on it. An 18-wheeler dangling over a cliff isn’t easy to push out of the way.”

  “Thanks.” Joel nodded appreciatively. “Have you heard anything about the conditions on Interstate 81 heading south?”

  “No, sir. But I’ll ask the colonel for you and let you know on my way back.”

  “Great. Thanks so much.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Archer and Debra joined Joel and Jessie in front of the red truck as they watched the soldier continue up the hill on Skyline Drive. He headed towards a small group of other soldiers patrolling the vehicles that had simply stopped in-line on the road ahead. The green Vanagon now occupied the last place in the procession.

  “This seems like a safe enough place to wait,” Debra said.

  “Yes,” Joel replied. “In fact, I think I’m going to try to take a little nap.”

  “In the car?” Jessie asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “There’s a nice clearing behind these trees,” Archer said pointing. “We could pitch a tent real quick, and set up a few chairs.”

  The girls liked the idea, but Joel went back to the passenger seat and closed his eyes. He found it easy to drift into a state of half-sleeping while listening to the three of them rustle through supplies in Archer’s truck before their voices settled at the patch of ground ten yards off the road.

  Other voices trailed in from the parking lot below, along with an occasional car engine sound arriving there, or up here on Skyline Drive. Joel soon lost the temptation to open his eyes at them. He liked to see if he could guess certain car makes and models by their sound. The commotion in the lot remained steady as he drifted in and out of sleep. Interesting to be back among a gathering of people again, after the road trip began feeling lonely.

  A loud motorcycle coming from the north awakened Joel. He must have slept well over an hour. The daylight had faded considerably. Joel rubbed his eyes as the motorcycle passed him on the left. The line of cars on the road by now had backed up to just in front of where the two trucks were parked. Any more would begin to block them into these spots.

  Joel got out. Ahead to the right, between a sparse grouping of trees, Debra and Jessie sat in beach chairs chatting next to a pup tent pitched on Archer’s claimed campsite. Joel went to the back of his truck to try to find additional chairs he could set up on the road, or anything to prevent people from parking next to them.

  That’s when he saw the U-Haul truck in the parking lot below, wedged right in among the cars in the lot, trapping some of them in place. Joel rubbed his eyes again.

  Damn it! There was the big guy and the redhead with the bandaged hand, conducting business trading water bottles and propane tanks, just as they were doing in that other place now seeming so far behind on the day’s journey. As if the moment had been ordained, the big man looked up through the fading light of early evening and locked eyes with Joel’s before returning to his customers.

  Joel’s gun. He quickly turned to go back inside the cab and retrieve it—but found Jessie blocking his path with a sandwich. Before he could decide what to do, she shoved it in his mouth.

  “That was a good nap,” Jessie said. “Feeling better?”

  Joel might well have shoved her out of his way, except for two things.

  The first was a set of highly conflicting circumstances. The sudden urge to arm himself may have been impulsive, but it was strong. Jessie blocking him, however, presented a problem his instincts warned him to be careful with. Pushing her aside into the tree branches at this moment may be suicidal to his already weakening domestic status. Plus it would reveal to her and all onlookers that he had temporarily lost control of himself.

  The three soldiers coming down Skyline Drive behind her was the other reason. One of them looked older, more prominent than the other two, and familiar.

  Very familiar.

  Joel took the sandwich out of his mouth and said, “Excuse me, Colonel?”

  The three soldiers stopped. “Yes?” the older one replied.

  “There’s something I think you should know about.” Joel squeezed past Jessie and ducked under tree branches to come around the front of his truck.

  “Do I know you?” the colonel asked as Joel stepped close.

  “As a matter of fact, we met at the shooting club a couple days ago. You were trying to knock down enemy fighter jets with a pea shooter.”

  The other two soldiers chuckled.

  “Oh, yeah,” the colonel said. “You’re the car dealer who owns the same … pea shooter. And I do recall knocking one down.” He silenced his soldiers with a look.

  “That’s right, Colonel. And yes, you did. Anyway, there are some hijackers below working out of a U-Haul truck selling stolen propane and water bottles.”

  The soldiers turned to see, but the colonel’s face only hardened.

  “Those are some serious accusations, friend. You have proof of this?”

  Joel slowly shook his head. “Nothing that would hold up in court, probably.”

  Debra suddenly spoke from behind Joel. “We came across a hijacked Sparkletts truck a couple miles from where they were selling the bottles, Colonel. I’d say those are good odds.”

  Joel and Jessie turned to acknowledge her unexpected appearance. Archer was still at the tent. Joel took a bite of his sandwich and nodded at Debra.

  “Sorry, folks,” the colonel said. “Not good enough. Not for the current conditions, anyway. I’m not saying I doubt you. But I’m fairly busy. The whole country has gone off its dang rocker, you know.”

  “It has?” Jessie asked.

  “Afraid so, ma’am. Only took half a day, too. Hell, within a couple hours they started looting and burning stores. Too much news media tel
ling everyone the world’s about to end, I reckon. I don’t know where you folks are headed, but if it’s to a big city, you’re better off staying here. Keep your pea shooter handy. Cities will soon become martial law zones with early curfews, the way I hear things are going.”

  The radio hanging on the colonel’s belt sounded. He lifted it to his face and spoke to someone.

  “Good news,” the colonel said to Joel. “We’ll have the road reopened shortly. Oh, and if you’re the ones asking about Interstate 81 south, that’s reasonably clear. Sure hope you have somewhere safe to go.”

  “You’re radio is working?” Joel asked with his mouth full.

  “Short length radio,” the colonel answered. “Walkie-talkies, anyway. These were kept in a protective box. Cellular, short wave, ham, and every other damn communication method are currently fried. Good luck to you.”

  The soldiers continued walking down.

  “Great!” Jessie said. “I’ll go tell Archer and help him put away the tent.” But she hesitated, glancing between the parking lot and Joel before leaving.

  Joel looked down as well. There he encountered another set of eyes staring at him. They belonged to the greasy-haired shotgun man who was spoiling for a gunfight earlier in the day.

  Joel dove into his truck. Once there, he didn’t settle for his pea shooter, though he certainly tucked it into his jeans on his way to the crew cab. There he performed a contortionist maneuver to dig into his gun locker.

  When he shortly reemerged, he held his favorite rifle in one hand and a box of walkie-talkies in the other.

  Debra was still there, alone.

  “Battery powered?” she asked, focusing only on the radios.

  “Yep,” Joel answered. He set them on the hood and looked back down the hill. The bastard was still staring at him.

  Joel raised the rifle above his head to make sure his adversary could see it in the fast-fading light of day. It appeared to do the trick. The adversary, who’d been leaning against the U-Haul truck, uncrossed his arms and went to help the big man load propane tanks. People everywhere suddenly scrambling to their cars signaled that word was spreading about the road reopening.