Nelson exited the truck and slammed the door, frustrated. “Shit!”
“Just ram it!” Mack yelled from the bed of the truck.
“Too risky; the gate has frozen snow covering the lower third of it,” Eric answered.
“No time to discuss. I’m not ramming the gate and I can’t drive off-road. Let’s hustle,” Nelson barked.
The men grabbed their weapons and began jogging down the drive. Nelson led the pack that included Mack, Eric, Frank, and Scott.
It took them only a few minutes before the houses came into view.
“Mack, Scott, go to the trailer. Eric, check out the barns in the back. Dad, you and I will stop by the main house,” Nelson ordered. All the men split off.
Nelson stayed focused on the main house and looked for any movement. Nothing. He and Frank stepped onto the wooden deck. Frank went right, he went left. Nelson peered into the dirty window but couldn’t see much. The house’s blinds and drapes were pulled back but it was too difficult to make out very much. From what he could see, it looked like a pretty normal setup, decorated with furniture, lamps, and knickknacks.
“Dad, anything?”
Frank had his face against a screen, attempting to see. “Nothing, looks like no one is home.”
“Only one way to find out,” Nelson said as he approached the front door and began to bang on it.
Eric walked onto the deck from the side. “Nothing in the barn or other structures!”
Mack then came up from the trailer. “Nothing there either. Looks like they’ve been gone for a while.”
Nelson, frustrated beyond words, stepped back and kicked the door. It splintered and flew wide open. He raised his rifle and walked in.
The force of the kick disturbed what looked like months of dust and dirt, which floated in the air and choked him. He proceeded through the front living room, looking carefully for any clue. Adding to the heavy dust, which was making him cough, a strong and pungent odor overwhelmed his sense of smell.
“Holy shit, what is that?” Mack said as he entered the house.
“I’m going to guess a combination of backed-up septic, garbage, foul food, and nasty redneck ass,” Eric joked, coming in behind Mack.
Nelson didn’t pay attention to the guys and looked everywhere for a sign, a clue, something that would tell him Haley had been there. But each corner he turned told him she wasn’t here and that Truman hadn’t been here for some time.
“There’s no one here. We need to go back now,” Nelson yelled, stepping back outside. He hadn’t bothered to search the entire house. He saw enough to know that she wasn’t there.
“But we’re not done looking,” Eric hollered from upstairs.
“She’s not here! Let’s go!” he yelled.
MARCH 15, 2015
• • •
“Beware the ides of March.”
Gordon needed to take a break to stretch after doing so much driving. He didn’t know if his legs and back were aching from sitting or from the blast.
The sun had just made its appearance over the eastern horizon and with it he hoped for another day without incident. Every time he saw the sunrise, he would make a point to say a quick prayer, hoping he’d see it set that day.
The first twenty-four hours of the drive had been successful, easily clearing over three hundred miles. But even given that, driving in the new world was slower. Weather and road conditions were problems before but now those were compounded by abandoned vehicles, road bandits, and the inability to stop just anywhere. The start of their drive was slowed due to the heavy rains. Fortunately for them, it hadn’t turned into snow and the temperatures didn’t drop below freezing. At the current rate, he hoped to pull into Cheyenne in three or four days.
Christopher began to stir but didn’t quite wake up. He had offered to take on some of the driving, and Gordon was thankful for that. Gordon grew excited about the prospect of getting relieved from his driving duty. Not wanting to wait any longer, he ran over a clump of debris, jolting the vehicle.
Everyone in the Humvee woke suddenly.
Christopher, now wide awake, asked urgently, “Is everything okay, are we okay?”
“Yeah, we’re fine, accidently hit something,” Gordon lied. “Since you’re awake I need to take a break and rest. You mind?”
“No, not at all, pull over wherever you think is safe,” Christopher said, stretching.
“Where are we?” Cruz asked from the backseat.
“Somewhere east of Bend. We’re making good time,” Gordon answered.
Normally, Gordon wouldn’t have driven through the night, but he didn’t want the trip to take three times as long. And in some regards, the dangers on the road came at all hours.
“I haven’t seen anything for miles. Probably anywhere on the road is safe to just pull over,” Gordon said as he began to decelerate.
“Can’t we find a building that might have a bathroom?” Cruz asked.
“Is that a serious question?” Gordon asked.
“Yes, it’s serious. I have to use the bathroom,” Cruz stated flatly.
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to do what the animals do. I have toilet paper and an e-tool in the back.”
“What’s an e-tool?” Christopher asked.
“A shovel. I like to have one when I go outside. I use it to balance myself when I squat.”
“Are you sure there’s not a rest area or facility close by?” Cruz asked.
“Sir, if we approach a building I can’t just let you go in without my securing it first. That could take up precious time. You can’t expect every building you see to be safe. It’s a dangerous world out here, in case you didn’t know.”
“Mr. Van Zandt, I don’t appreciate your condescending attitude.”
Gordon brought the vehicle to a coast and pulled along the shoulder of the road.
“I’m sorry if you were offended, but I can’t take your requests seriously. I know you must be a smart man. I’m not pulling up to any structure unless I absolutely have to. It’s just best we stay from any building,” said Gordon.
Cruz thought before he responded. He was not feeling well. His body ached and he had what felt like the beginnings of a fever.
“Here’s where we’re going to take a break. Mr. Vice President, the shovel is in the back on the right. You go first, pick any tree out there. Christopher, do you mind topping us off? Any of the fuel cans in the back will work. I’m going to be on watch,” Gordon said, then exited.
The long stretch Gordon took felt good. He bent over at the waist and let the weight of his body stretch his lower back. He had picked a very remote spot on the road. The rolling and lunging landscape was heavily dotted with pine trees and large shrubs. To the east the road went on for miles, to the west he followed the road till it died into the horizon. The temperature was cool but tolerable. The gray skies could mean anything; he just hoped it didn’t mean more precipitation.
Wilbur walked up to Gordon and asked, “Can you help me? Vice President Cruz isn’t feeling too well.”
“Sure,” Gordon agreed, and followed Wilbur to the other side of the Humvee. There he saw Cruz bent, sitting on the ground, resting his back against the right wheel tire.
“You all right?” Gordon asked, but what he saw gave him the answer, and it was no.
Cruz’s skin was pale and clammy. He looked up at Gordon with swollen, bloodshot eyes.
“He’s really sick now. He had been complaining before we left but I thought he was just fatigued,” Wilbur commented.
“Let’s get him into the Hummer,” Gordon said, grabbing one arm. Wilbur grabbed his other arm and they both pulled him up and sat him back in his seat. Cruz collapsed into the seat and laid his head against a box.