It was a different world in Maltese, far removed from anything except radio contact with Elcort and Schriever. The base didn’t divulge information, but Maltese and Elcort hadn’t seen or heard of an occupation and Kit deducted the reason for the delay in transport was because there was no need to run across the border. That still didn’t take away the fact the she had to search for her daughter.
Harland helped devise a plan to get her close. To take a car, siphon gas where they could, because there would be a lot of abandoned cars. Also, some towns remained intact, and like Maltese still had a gas supply.
Zeke still wanted to go, and nearly did when Abe started to feel ill. At first Harland believed it was low level exposure to radiation, but he had gotten an infection from working with bodies. Then the transport was delayed and Zeke was off the itinerary.
Finally, Schriever radioed to say they were sending a small plane to Canada and it would refuel in Boise if she still wanted the ride.
Abe was feeling better, and was ready to go. Although he didn’t look it. In the weeks since the war, he had lost a lot of weight. No longer was his chest barreling, his face was drawn and thin, he had aged a few years.
Harland packed them supplies and made sure they were armed, especially being on the road.
“What’s the plan?” Harland spread out a map. “Zeke and I need to know and we also need to know you aren’t going to vary far from the plan. Make a plan, stick to it, come back.”
Kit nodded. “After Boise we are going to head to Spokane, probably take the supply truck as far as we can.”
“Then what? Walk?” Harland asked, then shook his head. “You need to find transportation while there. You’ll be at an air field outside of Boise, there has to be something. I have two, five gallons gas cans, take them with you.”
“After Spokane,” Kit said, “We’ll backtrack and take 90 to Tacoma and Olympia.”
“Most cars will be on those roads. Every chance you get, you get gas. Ration your food, you don’t know when you’ll get stalled,” Harland said. “If your family is not in their homes, look for aid stations, community places. Don’t lose sight of your vehicle, or direction.” He folded the map. “Finally, listen very carefully to what I am going to tell you.”
Kit saw the serious look on his face as he handed her the map.
“This may sound harsh, but keep your expectations low. A lot of bombs fell out there, especially on that side of the country. What you’ve seen here is pretty mild. Don’t stop for long, don’t turn over every stone. I know you want to find your kid, but you have one here.” Harland swung out his hand pointing to Zeke. “I’m gonna keep him busy, we have a lot of ground to overturn for planting, but I can’t keep you off his mind forever. You need to focus on getting back here. You still have him.”
Harland was right, Kit knew it, but she had to try to find Jillie, or at least some indication of what happened to her. She felt prepared for whatever she learned.
He was also right about another thing. What she had seen so far was mild and what was ahead, what she would see, like the fate of her child, Kit would do her best to prepare for it.
Not including Kit and Abe, the transport plane had nineteen people. She didn’t know who they were or where they came from, no one really spoke. When they landed to refuel, she learned there was no supply truck. Supply trucks taking aid out west were halted by the occupation. The occupation was focusing on hard hit areas and encouraged those less impacted to store their own supplies.
They were lucky when a man at the airfield gave them a small car. He wasn’t sure how well it would make it in areas that had a lot of rubble, but on unaffected roads they would be fine.
He told them that according to his supply drivers, the roads going west were good until the areas hit by bombs.
They left the airfield shortly before nine in the morning and expected to be in Spokane by mid afternoon. While driving was fairly easy and smooth, they stopped to siphon gasoline and continuously fill the tank. Operating on the belief it would eventually all run out on them.
The closer they got to Spokane, the more they saw handmade signs posted over exits, warning people not to enter the towns. No gas, no stragglers.
Then after a town called Ritzville, Abe spotted something else and pulled over.
“We just siphoned, we’re good,” Kit told him.
“I saw something.”
“What?”
Abe opened the door and stepped out, Kit followed him. He walked back a few feet and to a stranded car on the side of the road. “There.” He pointed.
Kit gasped in shock when she saw the names Regis and Mark, written in the dirt on the car door.
“They rested here,” Abe pointed. “Against the car.”
“That meant they were walking.”
“Yeah,” Abe replied solemnly. “They did this for you. They knew you were coming. They weren’t in any condition to walk, Kit. We may have to keep an eye out for them.”
“It’s been three weeks, Abe.”
“I know.”
“I hope they made it. I really do.” Kit walked back to the car and got in.
They continued on, more diligent about looking out.
Every couple miles they’d see another car or truck with their names on it. It showed how frequently they stopped. Then the handwriting grew worse, the stops were closer and the names transformed into only initials.
Then they stopped.
Kit knew something was up when they went four miles without a name.
Either Regis and Mark had gotten a ride or they went off to the side of the road, unable to go on.
“There’s a town two miles ahead,” Abe said. “Let’s try there. Maybe they got a ride there.”
“The town is probably shut down.”
“We can still ask. We don’t need to go in.”
They pulled off the exit for Four Lakes, leaving the car behind just on the outskirts on the residential town. It was more of a community and the town square was small. Unlike all the others, Four Lakes wasn’t closed off. In fact, people were on the streets in tents. It was a chilly day and people sat around camp fires, all of them looked at Kit and Abe as if they were aliens.
Abe stopped before a family, that was camping outside a beauty salon. “Are you folks from here?”
The man shook his head.
“Have you been here longer than three weeks.”
Again, the man shook his head.
“Anyone you know been here that long?” Abe asked.
“Try there,” the man spoke and pointed to the coffee shop.
“Thank you.” Abe crossed the street with Kit.
“Please don’t tell me they’re selling coffee in the middle of all this,” Kit said.
“I doubt it.”
“I was joking.”
Abe stopped. “That’s the first time in a while you haven’t been serious. I’m glad.”
The door to the coffee shop was open and the front window boarded.
When they stepped in, the conversation stopped. It seemed as if the twelve people there were having a meeting.
An older man at the table looked up. “We’re low on everything. We can’t give, but there is space out there if you need to rest up.”
“We’re not here for a place to bunk,” Abe said.
“I’m looking for my family,” Kit added. “My brothers. They came this way. They were writing their names on the cars and it stopped a few miles back. We were thinking they may have come here, or stopped here.”
“A lot of people come through here,” he said. “Was it just the two of them?”