Lisa took a deep breath and nodded.
“Where’s home?”
“Hansen.”
“Don’t stop for anything till you get there,” he said.
Returning to her car Lisa locked both doors. The guard opened one gate enough for her to exit. As she drove away from the campus onto the vacant street, she could see a cloud of smoke drifting down from the north. Turning on the radio she heard the usual litany.
“…have promised food and medical assistance. Some help is expected to arrive by air in the coming weeks, but the bulk will take several months to come by ship.
“Hospitals outside the red zones are overwhelmed, forcing the relocation of patients to facilities sometimes hundreds of miles away. In addition the massive exodus from all major cities has compounded the problem with additional injuries. All medical personal are asked to report to the nearest hospital or clinic.
“All military, National Guard and Coast Guard personnel are to report….”
Nothing new. She turned it down low.
Rounding the next corner she could see the freeway on ramp. Several cars were sitting almost blocking access. She slowed down. Something moved behind one of the vehicles. I’m going to another on ramp. She turned the wheel.
A shot rang out.
Hitting the gas pedal she sped to the left down a side street.
Less than a mile from the college and I’ve been shot at. She considered going back to the campus, but Peter’s warning pushed her onward.
She roared onto the freeway at the next open ramp. A single car zipped past her as she pulled into the lane. Abandoned vehicles had been pushed to the side leaving about half of the highway clear. It looked like a post-apocalyptic movie set.
She glanced in the rearview mirror. Soldiers on the overpass. That’s why it was clear. She smiled and hoped to see more.
Along both sides of the highway were malls and shops, but the people Lisa could see didn’t seem to be shopping. Some groups appeared to be walking south. Others pushed shopping carts filled with unbagged merchandise. Refugees and looters.
A mile down the road she was beginning to ease off the gas pedal when she spotted another group of armed men breaking into abandoned cars. Lisa zoomed by as fast as possible but, apparently content with looting vehicles they took little note of her.
Rounding the next curve a bit too fast, she struggled to keep her car from hitting an abandon vehicle. Coming out of the bend she heard a snap like the breaking of a twig and then a high pitched whine seemed to fill the car. As it reached a crescendo she wanted to clamp her hands over her ears. Then it stopped.
Lisa glanced down. The radio? Was that the radio? The station it had been on was gone. Only crackle and static came from it now. She pressed search on the radio and down on the gas pedal.
Several cars sped past her.
She wanted to speed up, but was more afraid of an accident than any direct threat. Continuing south she topped several hills. Office buildings and empty parking lots gave way to houses and trees as she continued south away from Olympia. Still miles from home the more suburb setting looked familiar, but the abandon cars, burned out homes and empty neighborhoods continued the eerie surrealism. Still with no immediate threats she slowly eased off the gas.
“…back on the air using generator power.”
She gasped, startled by a voice from the radio.
“Reports are coming in that a mushroom cloud is rising over southern Puget Sound or the suburbs south of Seattle. We can’t see anything from our studio in Tacoma, but we are attempting to confirm it.”
Lisa sped up once again.
Moments later the announcer stated, “People heading south are confirming the attack and out-of-control fires spreading away from the blast zone toward Tacoma. From our studio we can see dark clouds and heavy smoke rolling across the nearby hills. We may have to evacuate the studio.”
Traffic had been light, but was now picking up as cars joined the flow south at each on ramp. Everyone who hadn’t fled the metro area just decided to leave. Thank you Peter, for giving me a head start. Then she recalled what the announcer had said about the location of the blast, south Puget Sound or the suburbs south of Seattle, and tears rolled from her eyes for her brother Peter and his wife Sue.
She wiped her cheeks and slowed as she rolled into the county of her birth. Two more small towns, then the exit for Hansen. She sighed, wiped her face and then swept her eyes along the sides of the road. She wondered why the destruction was greater here than it had been in Olympia. Gas stations and convenience stores were burned and looted along with nearby homes and shops. Pillars of smoke rose from the upcoming town.
She glanced down. Her gas gauge showed just over half. If she had been coming from Seattle she would be low on fuel by this time. She imagined the desperation of a family fleeing anticipated nuclear annihilation and arriving in a small town with not enough fuel to get wherever they might be going. I don’t have any food with me and only a few gallons of gas, but I’ve got family nearby.
Up ahead a motel parking lot was full of cars. Dozens of people wandered about the building and a nearby burned out gas station.
Tens of thousands drove here hoping to go on to relatives and friends beyond. How many didn’t make it? Did they run out of gas and walk or did they just stay here? How would they get food? Did they die?
A few miles down the road Lisa neared the Hansen exit. She scanned the ramp and overpass for danger. She could see men, women and children along the overpass and on either side. Many watched as she approached, but none appeared to be armed. She raced up the overpass and turned left.
Immediately people held out their hands urging her to stop. Others stepped into the road almost blocking her way. She swerved to avoid one person then another and another. The crowd pressed in slowing her to a crawl. They pulled on the locked doors. The car was barely moving now. Three burly men stepped into the road thirty feet ahead. One held a crowbar.
They want my car, my gas. I might be killed or…. She knew the road ahead was straight for several hundred yards. God help me. She closed her eyes and rammed her foot down on the gas pedal.
The car sputtered and then roared forward.
Bang.
Thump.
Screams of terror and angry yells filled her ears.
A second later she opened her eyes. The road ahead was clear and the windshield cracked. No, don’t look! Don’t look in the rearview mirror. Whatever is back there you don’t want to see it.
Lisa sped on as tears flowed. They should have gotten out of the way. They would have stolen my car. They might have killed me. She sobbed. I killed someone. I’m going to jail. More tears followed. The guard at the college, he said, don’t stop for anything. Lisa shook her head. No, it was a hit and run. They’ll throw me in prison. She took a deep breath and tried to stop crying, but within moments the cycle of self-recrimination and justification resumed.
Gradually the lack of people, rural setting and very familiar road gave comfort. She knew that Hansen was just a few miles ahead. I’ll talk to Dad when I get home. He’ll know what to do. With a big sigh she wiped away the last of the tears as the road descended into the river valley where the family had camped and picnicked many times. The forest was thick here and reached down to the shore of the lake only a mile ahead.
She rounded a gradual bend in the road and onto a causeway that crossed the lake. Almost home! Looking to the far bank she saw bulldozers parked across the road. She slowed the car to a crawl. Poles stood on either side with bodies hanging from them.