

WWIV – In The Beginning

e a lake

Copyright © 2014 e a lake

All rights reserved.

Smashwords Edition

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblances to persons living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations are entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form whatsoever without written permission of the author.

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This is Book One in the WWIV series. Watch for more e a lake novels in the coming months.

Partial Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 10

Chapter 20

Chapter 30

Epilogue

About the Author

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# WWIV - In the Beginning

I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones.

-Albert Einstein

# Chapter 1

If my wife is already dead, then I should **Get the Heck out of Dodge**. But, that's the problem. I have no idea if she's dead or alive. I haven't heard from her for 18 days –18 very long days and nights. Thus, I have no idea whether she's alive or not. That's an issue.

If I stay here much longer, I'm a goner. Not gonna make it. Plain and simple. Staying here has only one outcome, my eventual early, untimely demise. Changing locations is a necessity. My new destination is set. It's just – well, tricky. Yeah, let's just call it tricky. That's like calling a slash to the jugular vein a minor scrape, but that's how clear my mind is right now, how clear it's been for the last 18 days...hell, 18 months.

My two children – Rita, 8, and Dustin, 6 – are at my wife's parents' house just outside Milwaukee. That much I know for a fact. While that's not ideal, it's doable. At least I know they are safe there with Ray and Margaret, the in-laws. Sharon, my missing spouse, is somewhere between home and Milwaukee. At least I think so. At least she's supposed to be. Thus, problem one: How long do I wait for her here in our quaint suburb just east of downtown St. Paul?

Eighteen days ago the lights went out. Let's call that problem two. Not a big deal, right? Power goes out all the time, even in large cities. But this was different. No power, no radio, no running cars, no nothing. This is anything but usual. I simply got out of bed 18 days ago and nothing worked. The clocks were out, the coffee maker didn't work, the garage door wouldn't go up, and my stupid Durango wouldn't even make a clicking sound. That was a huge problem. Then and still today.

Problem 3 – and this is a biggie. Civil unrest is making its way out from St. Paul (and Minneapolis for that matter). A lot of poor people with very little to start with now have exactly nothing left: No food, no water, no sanitation, no protection, no medical care... nothing. As those essential services dry up and disappear, folks start wandering out of the city looking for more. So quiet little Mayberry is starting to turn into not so quiet, huge Crapsville quick. Real quick.

I need to get myself out of the way of the meandering hoard that is about to overtake my suburb. And soon. Now comes problem 4.

We – the little woman and me – always talked about where we would "bug out" to when the going got tough. I think we've all done that after watching some doom and gloom 'end of the world' movie, right? Yeah, we all have. We – Sharon and I – always said we'd go to my parents' shack up in the middle of nowhere in Northern Wisconsin; up on lake Superior in the center part of the state. Far away from any problems that might try and follow. It's a good plan, sort of. What I really want to do now, though, is to find my children, and my wife. They're all I can think of lately.

But, and this is a big one, there are no working cars. None, zip, zero. Trust me, I've looked around. My next-door know-it-all neighbor, Ted, says whatever happened 18 days ago wiped out all of our electronics. He's some sort of engineer, so he should know. I had always heard that some cars and trucks, the ones without computers on board, would be spared. But I haven't found a single one that works. Maybe I just haven't found one old enough. Maybe, like my wife always says, I just haven't really looked yet. Maybe.

Here's my plan. I'm going to wait one more full day. It's Tuesday, mid-afternoon. If she doesn't show up by first light Thursday morning, I am out of here. Well, both me and Buddy, the family lab. I'm going to hook my tow behind kid carrier on my mountain bike, stock it with everything I need, and me and the Budster will hit the road. We've got over 300 miles to cover, and if we stay at it I figure we can do that in four days.

If I'm lucky, and I tend to be, Monday morning I will wake up at my in-laws home in Milwaukee. There, I will finally be reunited with my family. There, we can pontificate as much as we like until our government gets back up and running. Because right now, they are not doing much that I can tell.

As long as I find my family, I'll be content. No matter what the future may hold.

# Chapter 2

The first morning was the worst so far. I woke up to nothingness, a lot of nothingness. No electricity, no air conditioning, no lights, no sounds, and no coffee. That really sucked. I like to have a cup of coffee right away in the morning. I went to my cellphone to check the time, and what I found baffled me. Nothing, absolutely nothing.

I had just charged the phone, and it was almost brand new, so I knew it shouldn't have been dead, but it was. Not like a _no service_ dead. More of a completely dead type dead. The screen was blank, and I couldn't wake it up. I tried to plug it in to see if that would help. No electricity though, duh. This was weird.

After wandering around in the morning darkness inside, I finally went outdoors to see if I was alone in my battle for answers. I quickly discovered that was not the case. A number of neighbors in my cul-de-sac already were on their driveways, some in small groups speaking in low tones, some just standing alone staring strangely into space.

I went over to Alexis and Jim's across the street. They both were looking for the same answers everyone else seemed to be missing. They were normally happy people. They always smiled and said hello anytime you saw them. This morning, their expressions seemed dark, almost grave.

"What's up guys?" I tried to slap a smile on as I approached. It didn't work though. They looked at me sullenly.

"This is weird, Bill." Jim shook his head as he spoke clutching Alexis tight in his arms. "Really weird. No power, no lights, no gas, no nothing man." He looked oddly at me. "And my car won't start. I mean... nothing." I thought Alexis seemed more scared than bewildered. I tried to put a positive spin on the situation.

"I'm sure whatever it is will be all cleared up soon. Probably no big deal." I glanced at Jim; he wasn't convinced. I could see it in his eyes.

Alexis had a far off look on her face; she seemed to have not listened at all. "Jim, why aren't the cars working? How am I supposed to get to work? I have an important conference call later," she said, and I heard the fright in her voice that her face then failed to hide. Jim could only shake his head. He had no idea.

I knew at that moment something big had happened, something huge. No power or cell service was one thing. Cars not going, now that was something entirely different, something that really got my attention.

"I'm going to head up to Main Street," I said. "Maybe I'll find an answer there. And don't worry about work right now, Alexis. We'll get this figured out soon I bet." They weren't even listening. I nodded as I walked away.

I walked five blocks straight north of my place to get to Main Street, the main road in town. Not very creative but it worked. This wasn't the world's biggest suburb, so keeping things like street names simple fit pretty well. What I saw on my five-block journey bothered me even more than the goings on back in my neighborhood.

By the sun, I guessed it to be maybe 8 o'clock. The sky was blue and cloudless. The day promised to be another hot mid-August Minnesota summer event. Without air conditioning, people were already opening their windows. People were everywhere outside – on their front lawns, in their driveways, heads under hoods of cars, children trying garden hoses with fruitless results. It seemed most of the population had awakened to the same situation. And no one seemed to have any answers.

The five-block stroll only took me a few minutes. What I found on Main Street worried me even more. Or should I say what I **didn't find** on Main Street bothered me greatly. People were out, just like in my neighborhood and the neighborhoods I had traversed in getting here. But the road was quiet, eerily quiet. Where by this time there would usually be a great deal of traffic, there was none. Stores remained closed. Even the gas station just down the road to the west was closed yet. They opened every day at 4:30 a.m. like clockwork. That morning, the station was dark and dead. I could only stare at the eerie scene.

I started back for my house quickly. This just didn't feel right. Nothing felt right. As I cut through a path halfway home, I saw an older man from church sitting on his front porch. Jack Thomsen looked determined. Between his legs sat a shotgun, most likely loaded, I'm sure. Jack had on dirty shorts and a dirty white T-shirt. Sweat had already made its way through the fabric and stained the white material. He smiled cautiously as he saw me approach.

"Bill, morning," he said, nodding his head slightly as I walked carefully to his front porch. I stopped ten feet short not wanting to provoke an armed man.

"Mr. Thomsen." I smiled as best I could and looked at his weapon. "Don't you think it's a little premature to be armed?"

He grinned. "When you can explain to me what's going on, I'll put the gun away, Bill. Maybe." He peered down the street at his neighbors. They were doing the same thing as my neighbors – exactly nothing.

"I'm sure there's a logical explanation for all of this. I just think we need to keep level heads for a little bit yet. We can't assume anything bad has happened."

"Tried your lights yet, Bill?"

I nodded slightly.

"How about your water or your car?"

I could only shrug.

"Yeah. No phone service either. Nothing on the house phone, and the cells are all dead too."

He had a point. This didn't look good. Whatever it was. I held my hands up in a sign of peace. "Let's just let this play out a little more before we jump to any rash conclusions, Mr. Thomsen. That's all I'm saying." I hoped – no prayed – my words got through to the older man.

He scowled at me. "I'm going to protect what is mine. That's all I'm doing right now. Until we can get back to normal, I'm going to do just that." He looked up closer at me. "I recommend you go home and do the same, Bill. Protect your family."

His last words shot through me like a lightning bolt. My family! I shook my head. My wife and kids were 300-plus miles away from home. The kids were staying with Grandma and Grandpa for a couple weeks. Sharon should be on her way home. She wouldn't believe what she'd find when she got here. If she got here. Somehow, in her mind this would all be my fault.

"Okay, I'm going home, Mr. Thomsen. If you need anything you know where to find me. Just be cautious, please. I don't want anything to happen to you." I turned and left for home.

He called out as I hit the street, "Arm yourself if you have a gun, Bill. Do it now before it's dark. Before it's too late." I felt a shiver run through my entire body. _Before it's too late_.

By the time I got home, I could see everyone in the neighborhood was up and outside. Larger groups had formed. Everyone wanted, needed, what we sorely lacked: information. Instead of going inside, I met up with the largest group, eight adults of various ages. It sounded like panic had set in... already.

Mrs. Johnson, the neighborhood busybody, was in full gear this morning. "We have to get out of here. It's not safe. I just know something terrible has happened." Without her news to watch or her radio to give her all the information she needed, she tended to panic. "The government should be helping us by now. Where are they?" Several heads nodded.

I frowned. "Let's all just settle down." I put my two cents worth in quickly. "I'm sure the people at the city office are already at work on the problem and will have information for us later today." I looked at the tense faces. "There is no need to panic."

"Yet. You meant to add yet, right Bill?" my next-door neighbor Ted stared intently at me, and then the group. I smiled a stupid little smile at all of them.

"No. There is just no need to panic; at all." There, solved that issue. However, more heads shook than nodded at my words.

"Nothing electronic is working, Bill. Anything with a computer chip or that needs power or any of that stuff isn't working." Ted looked at the assembled mass now all looking scared. "That's a problem. A big problem." Ted looked back to me for answers.

I had none. "We just need to remain calm until we know what's going on. Okay?" A few more heads showed signs of agreement. "Let's just play it cool. I'm sure we'll have answers later." I started for my house. "I'll stop by everyone's place in a little bit. Let's set up a cookout with our propane grills for supper time." I smiled again. "Unless everything comes back on, and we all have to get to work that is." I saw a few smiles finally.

I was sick of being the calm logical one this morning. I had only been up just more than an hour and had already seen things I would have never dreamt. I headed inside my house to make a list to pass around the neighborhood. There were eight houses in our cul-de-sac, so I needed eight copies. I wanted to keep these eight separate family units as close to being on the same page as possible.

I found a pen and paper and started:

1. Open your freezer and fridge as little as possible

2. Shut off all electrical and gas connections coming into your house

3. Do not try to use your water in your home

4. Find candles now for later

5. Later today bring your grills out front, and we'll have a community cookout

6. REMAIN CALM!

That pretty much covered it. Now I just had to make seven copies on my copy machine and... dang it. No power, no copies. Okay, not a big deal, I thought. I'll just write it out seven more times. That only took me two minutes. Happy with my message I got up and went to go back outside. Buddy acted like he could use some exercise, so I brought him along. Maybe a dog would help diffuse any tense feelings I'd most likely find out there. Buddy was happy to oblige.

# Chapter 3

Mid-morning I stepped back outside. Already the heat and humidity were rising fast. I wondered if it was the hot weather or the lack of air conditioning that made it seem more oppressive. Perhaps it was the current situation, a situation for which no one seemed overly prepared.

First I stopped next door at Ted and Alice Shawl's place. Alice is a wonderful woman who just had the bad luck of marrying a know-it-all like Ted. I knew I could count on Alice to keep a positive attitude; it's Ted that worried me the most. He'd be too frank and open with everyone, perhaps causing unneeded panic. Alice thought the flyer was a great idea.

Next were Sergio and Veronica Mendez. They were a quiet couple that no one knew much. Sergio took a while to come to the door and greet me. They only opened the door a crack to speak with me. They were older, probably mid-50's if I had to guess, close to Ted and Alice's age. Undoubtedly not 38 or anywhere close to my age.

Trouble could be counted on from the family at the end of the cul-de-sac, the Lewis'. As I approached, I could see the whole family in their garage preparing for a long-term battle with no power. I tried to put my best smile on as Betty Lewis saw me approaching.

"Morning Bill. How about some coffee?" she said.

Of course these modern day preppers had coffee. They had dug out their camp stove first thing and prepared a grand breakfast. I could see the coffee pot sitting on one of the burners, steam rising from its spout.

"Actually I'd love some, Betty. Thanks."

Betty's husband entered the garage through the door from the backyard. Scott smiled at me and Buddy grandly. "I've been warning people about this for years. And no one listened." Scott took off his hat and wiped the sweat from his brow. "Now people will start paying attention. Someone dropped a nuke somewhere, and the EMP wiped everything out. I just wonder where the main blast was centered."

Scott certainly had it all figured out. I knew I needed to slow him down. "We don't know that for sure, Scott. It could have been any of a number of things. Heck, it could be as simple as a bad solar flare." Scott grinned at my view, but listened somewhat patiently to the optimist known as Bill Carlson. "We just need to help everyone remain calm until we figure this out. Okay Scott?"

Scott nodded. "Sure, sure. You do whatever, Mr. Happy Guy. We're bugging out first thing tomorrow morning if the lights ain't back on." I had suspected as much. "We got a place over by Chippewa that we'll be safe at. A good place to ride the storm out." Scott smiled again. "Whatever it is."

I knew I'd never convince this pair and their boys, Chad and Brent, to stay put. Maybe it was better if they left for Chippewa. "Sounds good Scott. Everyone needs to do whatever they think is best." I handed the flyer to Betty. "But let's have a nice cookout tonight and enjoy some camaraderie, okay?"

Scott looked over the flyer. I couldn't read his expression. "Yeah, yeah, that seems like a good idea. You can count on us, buddy." Scott reached out his hand, and I shook it in return. For all I expected, Scott had been decent. His attitude helped me feel more relaxed.

I finished my rounds quickly. Charles and Charlotte Johnson were a yes, as were the Holmes (Tyler and Lori and their four kids Taylor, Travis, Tia and Tracy) next door to them. Jim and Alexis across the street from my house agreed. They were the youngsters of the neighborhood and a long way from their parents in Virginia or North Carolina; I could never remember which state. Absent was anyone at Winston Hillsberg's home. Not unusual; no one ever saw much of them. I left the flyer in their door in case they were already in hiding.

Buddy and I returned home after a canvassing of the neighborhood. I knew I accomplished something that morning. I had set out to rally the people, my neighbors, and from what I could see on their faces, believed I had done a good job. I quickly dug in the refrigerator and grabbed two bottles of water. Finally my faithful black companion and I retired to the back porch. I flopped down in my favorite chair and stared at the hot hazy sky.

Sharon was most likely on her way from Milwaukee by now. She would be wondering why she couldn't reach me on my cell phone. Again, this would be my fault somehow. Maybe she had heard of the power outage in the Twin Cities before she departed and decided to stay put with her parents. Maybe Milwaukee was in the same shape as here. Knowing Sharon, she had run her minivan low on gas and would need to fill up somewhere just this side of Madison. Hopefully Madison wasn't having these same issues. If that were the case, she'd be in trouble on the road by herself.

While I hated fighting with my wife of ten years, I wasn't sure how much longer I could take the blame for everything. Every little issue just had to be my fault in Sharon's mind. If only I had a better job we'd have more money, and the kids could have a better life. If only we had more money, we could have better cars. If only I took care of the yard like Sharon's dad always had, it wouldn't look so bad. To Sharon it was a never-ending litany of Bill issues.

Maybe, just maybe, she'd be stuck with her parents for a week or two and start to miss me. Given enough time under her mother's thumb, Sharon just might appreciate me a little more. People always say absence makes the heart grow fonder. Maybe that would be the cure-all for our relationship. I was just happy she wasn't there right then to experience it with me. Even though everyone was in the same boat, somehow Sharon would invent an idea that I hadn't paid the power bill and now the whole town suffered. Her absence was okay with me for now.

I wondered for a moment how the kids were holding up at Grandma's house. Margaret, Sharon's mom, had lots of rules. Rita and Dustin weren't used to many rules at home. Sharon pretty much let them do whatever they wanted most of the time, and if I tried to discipline, oh, now that was trouble.

"Just let the kids be kids, Bill. They'll have plenty of time for all your rules when they get older." Sharon had all her lines down pat. Blame it on me, Bill. It was an old story, and I knew it had to be dealt with soon. She needed to get on the same page with me. We needed to work as a team, not as separate individuals. Maybe this little power issue was just the thing we both needed.

Back to the issue at hand – What had happened to the power grid? I assumed something had fried real bad over in St. Paul or Minneapolis. That made the most sense. But why no running cars? That was odd, really odd. And the cell phones. Mine hadn't been plugged in last night. I had plenty of battery life left when I went to bed. What had caused it to drain so quickly overnight? There had to be a logical explanation for all of this, at least I hoped there was. But what if it were something more cynical? Like an EMP blast? What did that mean? How long would this last in that case? I couldn't sit any longer. Against my better judgment, I knew I had to ask the one person I dreaded asking – Ted.

# Chapter 4

I found Ted out in his garage digging through boxes as if it was any old Saturday or Sunday morning. Except it was Tuesday, normally a workday. Ted had already sweated through his brightly colored thin shirt and his face reddened from the heat and humidity. He smiled when he saw me coming.

"Better take it easy old man," I said. "Not a good day to have a heart attack."

Ted laughed at my friendly words. He was an okay guy when you got right down to it. "Just digging for an old percolator for the gas grill. I'm not going another morning without coffee." Ted sat down on a stack of boxes and looked at his storage shelves. "If I could only remember what box I put that dang thing in." I think he welcomed the break. "So what brings you over again Bill?"

Time to see just what the engineer knew. "Tell me, and be honest, how bad is this? Let's say we got hit by some kind of sophisticated EMP. How widespread would it be? How long would the damage last?"

Ted nodded his head slightly and looked seriously at me. I knew he'd been thinking the same thing. "Well, an EMP would fry every circuit within a given range. A lot depends on the size of the blast and at what level it was detonated." He used his hands to simulate size and height of each blast. "A small blast at low levels could knock out the entire Twin Cities. Or LA or Chicago. A larger blast at mid-range could wipe out everything in the Midwest." He smiled at me coyly. "But a large blast at high levels could hit the entire U.S. as well as parts of Mexico or Canada." This was serious.

"What do you suppose?" I tried to stay positive, but it was getting harder every passing second. "Best guess."

Ted shrugged. "I sleep pretty light. A low level blast over the Cities would have sounded like thunder. I didn't hear anything last night." True. Buddy would have gotten scared and woke me up. "So I'm guessing mid to high range. Probably all the middle part of the country, if not the entire U.S." Ted frowned.

"Ramifications?"

"A lot of what we have right now. Can't even begin to guess when they could get the power back on. If it was an EMP, your car is never going to work again. Not at least until you change the computer. To do that, you'll have to get a clean computer. Something that wasn't in storage before the blast." He looked sideways at me. "How they going to make you a new one if the factories are all powerless? How they going to pump gas without electricity?"

This was getting graver by the moment. "They can pump some by hand, right?" I was searching for a silver lining anywhere one could be found. "If I can find a car without a computer, I could run it still with gas. There's still plenty of fuel around."

Ted shook his head. "There's only a finite amount of gas out there, Bill. It won't last long. And how are they going to resupply it without running trucks? With no power at the refineries? Hell, even ocean vessels nowadays depend on electronics. Where's the crude oil going to come from?" He saw my blank expression. "A lot of unanswered questions right now, Bill. A whole bunch."

It was my turn to shake my head. "Who did this? Who'd want to do this to us?"

Ted gave me a strange grin. "Who _wouldn't_ want to do this should be your question. Almost everyone wants to see us fail. Even the EU, as far as I'm concerned. As for suspects of who could do this? China, North Korea, Russia, Iran. The list is long, my friend."

My brain froze. I couldn't focus on a single thought. "How long? How long does something like this last, Ted?" This was probably the most important question.

My neighbor frowned and looked down. "If the blast covered the entire North American continent, it's bad. Real bad. Like ten, maybe twenty years bad. Our infrastructure will start to collapse within weeks. No food delivery, medical supplies, gasoline, water – that's huge. No cops, no firemen, limited Army and National Guard." Ted painted a bleak picture with a broad brush. "Within two weeks, trouble could get pretty deep. Even in suburbia here." He looked seriously at me. "I'm dead in three to six months."

I grimaced. "You could do something for your insulin, right?" I felt like it was my duty to help Ted grasp for straws.

He laughed slightly. "Yeah, go break into the drug store and steal as much as I can, I suppose. I could jimmy-rig some kind of cooler for the time being. Maybe stretch my life expectancy to a year, maybe two. Eventually, it will be all gone. I won't last long then."

I squeezed his shoulder. "Let's just hope this all passes before we have to resort to desperate measures, Ted. I bet it will." I realized just how lame my optimism sounded to a man with a potential death sentence.

"We'll see, we'll see."

I had to leave before depression sunk in, for both of us. I went home to find Buddy.

That night's group meal was more somber than I had hoped. Spirits were sinking fast in my close-knit group. Alexis was in tears most of the time. Sergio and Veronica hardly ate and didn't speak to anyone but themselves. At least Scott and Betty could be counted on for entertainment.

"Come tomorrow morning," Scott started as we finished eating. "If there ain't no power, no improvement, me, Betty and the boys are on our bikes and out of here." Scott and Betty had matching motorcycles. Big ones, old ones. Each bike had a trailer to pull behind. I had seen them take trips on these noisemakers many times in the past few years. "I ain't gonna wait around for the slime to wander in from St. Paul. That's for damn sure." His little pep talk got everyone's attention.

"Can you leave us some of your weapons at least?" Drew seemed to have some sort of plan to make a stand and fight for what was his if it came to that.

Scott shrugged. "I'll leave the keys to my gun safe in the kitchen in a bowl above the stove. There'll be a couple guns we don't take and ammo for them as well. It's the least I can do for my neighbors." Scott considered himself a regular George Bailey for the rest of us. _You can have my leftovers, suckers._

"Let's try and be positive here, folks. I don't think the call to arms needs to go out quite yet." A few nodded at my words.

Scott laughed out loud. "Sure thing Billy boy. Sure thing. What are you gonna do when trouble comes a knocking, and you have to fight it off with a butter knife?" He shoved his chest out at the group. "My daddy always said an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. Maybe you'd all best heed that wise advice."

I shook my head at him.

Charlotte Johnson hoped for an affirmation of her government from us. "I'm sure between the police, the army and the guard we'll all be protected. Right?"

Scott smiled at her. "They'll be kinda busy between the banks, the post office, the hospitals and such to run out here and help you fight off the boogeyman, Charlotte." Scott frowned. "No one's coming to your rescue folks. There ain't no cavalry. You're on your own now. So you'd best prepare for the worst and pray it never comes."

All of my assembled neighbors gave each other worried looks. Their stares eventually fell on me.

"We have no reason to panic people," I said. "As far as we know, everything will be back to normal within a day or two." Both Scott and Betty scoffed at that comment. Forcefully I continued, "Let's let this play out for a day or two, and maybe someone will come around with information soon. I'll even walk over to City Hall tomorrow and see what they know." I looked around confidently before I spoke again, choosing my words carefully. "FDR once said, 'The only thing we have to fear, is fear itself.' I think those old words ring true tonight."

Scott laughed and looked me straight in the eye. "Fear and the bastards that want us all dead, I suppose. I think I'd add them to that list, Bill. Someone did this to us." He looked around the group. "Some evil country did this to us. And it's not a warning. It ain't no joke people. If they've done what I think they did, they just knocked the old US of A back one hundred years or more. Your computers don't work, your lights don't work. Soon you're gonna run out of food. Worse than that, you're gonna run out of fresh water. Can't use your toilets. Raw sewage will carry disease, death. If you get overrun by a bad element from the city, no one's coming to save you." He shook his head and looked disgustedly at all of us. "Standing still at times like these means you're dead. I know you all think I'm a nut. The way I've always carried on and warned you about something like this happening. But here it is now. Still think I'm nuts?" He looked back to me for an answer.

"Scott, no one thinks you're nuts. I just think we need some answers before we can go off half-cocked. We could be running away from nothing. We just don't know what the problem is yet." He glared at me like I was the crazy one. "You have to do what you think is best for your family. I won't argue with you there. And you know what? When all this passes in a few days, and you all come back home, we'll be here waiting for you. And we are not going to ridicule you for what you felt you needed to do." I tried to smile to help soften him up. It wasn't working.

"Two weeks people." Scott got back up on his pedestal. "If this ain't fixed in two weeks you need to consider getting away from the city. Even if you have to ride your bikes or walk. Get the hell out of here." He stared at me. "Bill here will even back me up on that I bet, won't you Bill?" I nodded slightly. He was probably right. I just hoped it wouldn't come to that choice. "Don't let the government fool you all. They'll treat you like sheep. If they give you the run around at all, I mean even in the slightest, figure it's worse than I even think this is. If they can't, or worse won't explain what happened, well, either they don't know shit, or they ain't telling you what you need to know to protect yourself. Both cases are bad. So don't be fooled."

Our little group outing ended as people crept back to the safety of their homes.

Alexis cornered me as I moved my grill into the garage. "Bill, be honest, is this really bad?" She was on the verge of hysterics.

I lightly touched her shoulder for reassurance. "I'll see what they have to say over at City Hall in the morning, Alexis. Until then try not to worry too much."

But even I was starting to worry.

# Chapter 5

The next morning was as hot and humid as the previous, perhaps even more. The weather wasn't helping with anxiety levels. People had to sleep with their windows open. With no air conditioning, the stagnant hot air gathered inside their homes quickly. Even the open windows offered little relief during the night. Any breeze we had during the day died with the sun each evening. There wasn't much sleep for me.

The neighborhood was quiet. The only activity I could see was Scott, Betty, Chad and Brent preparing for their journey. When Scott kick started the older machines, the noise cut through the otherwise quiet vicinity like a bomb blast. I knew the roaring engines would bring more people outside. I just hoped they weren't so anxious after a decent night's sleep. The minute I saw Alexis stick her head out her front door, I knew that was wishful thinking.

"Are they really leaving?" Alexis shouted at me in disbelief. I could only nod her direction. Her door closed quickly as she retreated back into her sanctuary to find Jim. Not a good start to the day.

I stood in the driveway collecting my scattered, strewn thoughts. First, I needed to get to the city offices and see what they knew. Secondly, I needed to figure out food storage. I knew for a fact some of the stuff in my refrigerator was already bad. Some could be saved, but a lot had to go. Maybe while I was out I could grab some ice. Oh, and water too. Lord only knew how long my water would last.

I grabbed all the cash I had in the house, $82.50. Not much, but it had to be enough. I hoped the convenience store across from City Hall was still open, in some manner at least. I'd get what I could there, and if needed I could always try the grocery store a mile or so down Main Street. I could only imagine how picked over the store would be by this point. I could always grab extra canned fruits and vegetables to help ride the storm out. Canned pink salmon, as well. I read somewhere once it could last for ten-plus years in its can.

More people were out this morning as I made my way cross-country to Main Street and City Hall. People looked just like my neighbors, dazed and confused. Calm and order still seemed to rule the day, so that made me happy. I honestly thought at that moment we could ride out this plague, no matter how long it took. As long as we all stuck together and helped one another we'd be fine. Looking back that was a crucial mistake. It delayed my leaving by days, many days.

When I got close to City Hall, I couldn't believe the swarm of humanity. There were people everywhere. Calm was not ruling the day outside this building. People were angry, people were crying, people were in a complete state of disbelief.

"It's a bunch of bullshit, that's what it is," I heard one angry middle-aged man yell as he walked away from the brown brick building. "They don't have any answers, none!" He shouted his discontent as he left. I elbowed my way, nicely, through the crowd to look at the single sign hanging on the front door. My heart sank.

We are experiencing power outages on the eastern side of the Twin Cities at this time. We recommend everyone stay home and remain calm. We hope to have some power restored soon.

That was it? Are they joking? How about defining soon? I pulled on the doors; locked. I peered in the window, but it was pitch black inside so I couldn't see anything. I closed my eyes and thought hard. The role of government is to help its citizens in times of need and help maintain order. So far they were failing the first part of that ideal. And order was quickly falling apart outside these hallowed halls. They needed to do something.

I turned and headed for the convenience store. Maybe someone would have answers there. As I walked across the street, Scott's words rang loudly in my head. _If they can't or won't explain what happened, they're not telling you what you need to know._ More plainly stated, if they're not helping you, they aren't going to help you. Run for your life people!

I'm not sure what I expected to find at City Hall. I'd hoped for more information, something solid I could pass along to my neighbors. The city's vagueness left me worried. Maybe if I could find a cop they'd have news, something more substantial than the obvious malarkey I'd just discovered. I looked in a full circle, but I found no police present. None. I scanned over next door at the police station. No cars were there either. I shook my head. What did I expect to see? If they had been on patrol when the power went out, their cars had died in place. This made me feel a little better.

I decided to check in at the cop shop before hitting the store. It seemed no one else had considered this tactic, as I was the only one headed in that direction. I felt my heart sink when I pulled on the door; locked. This door was never to be locked. Inside the police office, it was as dark as the City Hall building. This window was absent of any sign to provide their citizens with comfort. The police station closed? That didn't make any sense.

I jogged over toward the store. A number of people were coming and going from the many stores in this part of town. Perhaps some of the merchants were open adding to the sense of community for all to see. That was my hope. As I got closer to the convenience store, I saw an ominous sign. One I would have never expected to see.

Three men sat out front guarding the entrance. Each man held a gun of some sort. A gun, most likely loaded, for all to see. Visions of the Old West ran through my mind.

As I got closer, one of the men rose. "How can I help you today, sir?" I recognized him as one of the owners. The other two looked like brothers or cousins.

"Just came by to make a few purchases. Are you open?" I was careful not to get too close. Getting shot was not on my to-do list.

He nodded. "Got cash?"

I nodded.

"Show me." I held up the four twenties and two ones for him to see. "Okay, you can go in." He opened the door for me.

"If you don't mind me asking, what's with the guns?"

He smiled. "Need to protect what's ours for as long as we can. In case you haven't noticed, things aren't so good right now."

I showed my understanding with a quick nod. "Got any water left?" It seemed like a reasonable question.

He shook his head. "City came and took every last bottle late yesterday. Said they were stockpiling it for the citizens, in case we need it." He laughed. "Well, it seems to me we need it already. But the city folks aren't anywhere to be found. So that's kind of suspicious."

I could only agree. "Did they at least pay you for it?"

He looked at his gun mates and back at me. Something told me this wasn't good. "Gave us vouchers for it. Said when everything was back up and running they'd run a check over." He turned his head sideways and spoke right at me. "Think we're ever gonna see that money bud?"

I could see his point. "Well, I'll just grab whatever you have and get back home." I walked through the open door. Except for two attendants, there was no one else inside.

"Got cash? We aren't taking any credit cards right now," a teenage girl told me sharply. I held my cash up for her to see. She nodded her acceptance.

On a lower back shelf, I found two gallons of distilled water. That would have to do. I grabbed three cans of peaches and two cans of green beans. This wasn't going to be a wasted trip. I set them on the counter, and the older man stared at me before he spoke.

"Water is $10 per gallon. The cans are $5 a piece. That's $50 rounded up with tip." I stared in horror. Price gouging, so soon? He gave me a dirty look. "Most of this will most likely be gone in a day or two. So take it or leave it. I don't care one way or another, pal." This was a no-nonsense kind of merchant.

"Can I at least get change for $60?" He shook his head. I went and grabbed two cans of fruit cocktail. "So that's $60, right?"

He smiled. "At least you learn fast. Most folks have just tried to argue. Waste of their time and mine." The girl put the cans in a bag while the man stuffed the cash in his pocket.

I had to ask. "Guns out front, admittance with cash only, steep prices; what gives? Don't you have any sense of community? What about helping your fellow man? Anything?"

"Have a nice day now, sir. And come back real soon." He laughed as I left. "Keep hold of your supplies real tight now," he yelled as I made my getaway. "Rumors are people will be getting desperate pretty soon." The man had some gall.

I walked home slowly, dejected at the morning events. It had barely been 24 hours and this community – my community – had begun to fall apart. Some people were fleeing. Some people had guns. Some people were ripping off others. No one was getting any answers as to what had happened. Maybe better said – no one was _giving_ any answers. That was the problem. If the populous only had some real information, maybe social order could be restored. A worried public seemed to be an angry public. The heat and humidity didn't help either.

I discovered Alexis sitting on my front step when I got home. I worried about her. More specifically, her mental health. She needed good news, and I had none to give. She saw me coming and rose to greet me, accost me more likely.

"Well? What did they say at City Hall? What do we know?" I looked down for a moment and decided to hit her with the truth. Nicely, but still the truth.

"Nothing Alexis. We know nothing. It doesn't seem like they know much more than that." She looked as if she were about to scream. "The doors were locked and there was a stupid meaningless note out front. Something to the effect they are hoping to have the power restored shortly." Honesty wasn't helping.

"So... what? What does that mean? We're all alone here? Where's the police? Where's the National Guard? Where's help in all of this?"

I grabbed her shaky right hand and spoke directly to her. "Alexis, we have to remain calm. Nothing bad has happened yet. Well, the power is gone, but nothing after that. We need to give it a day or two." She pulled away from me quickly, crying. I had no comfort for the poor girl.

# Chapter 6

The events of the day bothered me. I opened a warm beer and settled on the back porch before noon. I felt Alexis's tears were somehow my fault. Bad habit I have always seemed to have. I've always wanted everyone to like me, and my family, heck even my dog. I have always wanted those around me to be happy. I wanted Alexis to be happy. But, maybe this was a time when that was an impossible thought. How could I expect to find happiness when the world around me had gone so wrong?

Normalcy was on holiday. That was the plain truth. Even if the power came back on now, people would still be suspect. In a little over 24 hours, attitudes changed 180 degrees. Normally happy carefree people were hiding or fleeing or arguing. Tempers would start to run short, that was a given. And the minute there was an issue, almost any sized issue, here in my neighborhood I expected the worst from my close friends. They were scared. I was scared. It was very natural, yet raw, emotion.

Nothing improved throughout the day. No one was particularly interested in any more cookouts. Some people went into hibernation mode. Others showed signs of fight or flight. There were several neighbors loading bikes and backpacks. These folks were ready to leave and hit the road at the first sign of trouble. Others began to fortify their homes. Some boarded windows; some put reinforcements to standard locks on all doors. Almost everyone somehow magically had produced a weapon of some sort. It soon wouldn't be safe, for friend or foe. That worried me greatly.

The third morning of summer darkness brought two more families' departure. Sergio and Veronica left on foot shortly after sunrise. Sergio had told me such the previous night. They had relatives in some small western Wisconsin community a mere 40 miles from here. They felt they'd be safer there, for now.

Drew and Lori Holmes packed up what they could carry and headed north along with their four small children, all on bikes. They had friends up by Zimmerman. That was a small quiet community I had driven through a few times. Drew told me the route he had chosen would take them around the east and north sides of the Cities. That way they could avoid as many people as possible, thus avoiding trouble, but it increased the length of their trip by at least an hour. They had to cover 75 miles in a single day, in the glaring heat and sticky humidity. Not an easy task.

By midmorning, I watched as the Holmes' pedaled away. I stood in the middle of the street wishing them luck, wondering if I would ever see them again. They were good people, a nice family. I would miss them in my life. Alexis stood in her driveway watching them pedal out of our lives. Tears stained her face. Her typical look these days.

"Alexis, where's Jim? I haven't seen him much lately." I walked over to speak with her, face to face. She looked up at me, frightened.

"He's been inside," she shrugged her slumping shoulders. "Getting ready I guess." She looked at me sadly.

"Ready for what?" Jim had problems with depression. I hoped he wasn't doing anything stupid.

"Ready for an attack. He claims all the gangs will be coming this way soon. He's positive. He wants to be ready to protect me when they arrive." Alexis spoke like this was no big deal. My eyes widened with each word. "Cleaning all the guns, loading them up, finding strategic places for them around the house." She made it sound like Jim was ready for a war. I shook my head.

"We have no reason to do anything that rash yet, Alexis."

She looked defeated. "Bill, we don't have anywhere to go. Our home is the only place we have around here. We don't have a lot of friends. All our relatives live out east." She laughed slightly. "I don't suppose they're any better off out there, though." She looked up at me, seeming to need something from me. I was out of magic words.

"I think a lot of people are in that same boat. Really." I squeezed my forehead tightly with my left hand. "But we need to remain calm. I know trouble might come. But it's not here yet. We just don't want to take a chance of harming an innocent neighbor or friend. That's all I'm saying." I squinted at her. It looked like she hadn't slept in 48 hours. At least she wasn't crying. "Will it help if I try and talk to him?" I knew Jim could be quite a recluse at times. It was a self-defense mechanism he learned in dealing with his issues.

Alexis's headshake told me her answer. "Not now Bill. Please, not now. I don't want anything to push him over the edge. He's dangerously close right now. I need him, I need him with a good mind. Maybe tomorrow, when he settles down a little bit." She was most likely right. She knew her husband best.

"Okay. But come and get me if you need me." Alexis smiled a little smile as she turned and went back to her house. I looked over at her neighbor's place, Winston Hillsberg's residence. It was obvious to me that no one was there. Barring some miracle, no one would be around for a while. Our group of eight families was down to four. Seven bodies in total now called this cul-de-sac home. In a mere 48 hours, more than half of our residents had either left or not come back. That included my wife.

I figured that Sharon wasn't making it back to Woodbury. Not just yet. She was most likely safe at her parents' place. That would be good for the kids to have their mom around if they were experiencing the same problems as we were up here. They'd need their mom. Grandma was fine when everything was okay, but mom was best when there was trouble. I'm sure my father-in-law was flat out hammered. He had a habit of drinking hard when times got tough. Aside from their grandparent's interesting quirks, I knew my kids must miss me as well.

The other alternative was that Sharon was stuck on the road somewhere between Milwaukee and St. Paul. Lost somewhere on over 300 miles of highway. And she could be anywhere in that 300 mile stretch. Anywhere. That included pulling off at an exit in some little town. There was no way to find her and nowhere to start looking. I just had to trust she was still at her parents'. That was my best hope.

I wasn't sure how long I should wait for Sharon. If, by some miracle, she was on her way and I had left before she got here, she'd feel abandoned. That was the worst case. If I waited too long and she was never coming, I could be trapped here for the long run. That wasn't in my plans. I needed to set a time in stone, more or less, where I'd leave home to find my family. I needed a plan, and I wanted to be able to stick to said plan.

As I sat and thought hard on the situation, three weeks kept coming as the solution. Three weeks allowed enough time for Sharon to get here, if she was coming back. That would be enough time to stay ahead of any trouble. Trouble that my neighbors believed would be here soon. People would naturally stay put for a while. Food and water in the homes could last two weeks. There were a lot of suburbs between here and downtown St. Paul, much less Minneapolis, so I knew another week could pass and I'd still be safe.

With that settled in my mind, I began checking my supplies. Food, water, candles, flashlights (with batteries), dog food, plastic bags, a sturdy backpack, and clothing. The only thing I was low on was dog food. Buddy could always eat table scraps. I bet Sergio had some dog food at his place yet for that little ankle biter his wife loved dearly. Otherwise, I'd have to break into the Hillsberg's place. They had a big dog, so I was sure they must have extra dog food somewhere.

Surprisingly I found our old camping lantern in the storage shed out back. I wasn't sure it was still operational, so I smiled when it lit right up. At least I'd have something besides candlelight that night. It's hard to believe just how dark your house can be, both day and night, until the lights go out. That's when a person realizes every closet is dark; the kitchen pantry is twilight at best. And none of my bathrooms have any windows. So the lantern was an excellent find.

As I lay alone in bed that night, alone except for Buddy, my ears rang in the silence and stillness of the evening. It was like I was deaf or the world had lost all sound. No kids playing late outside, no cars going by, no airplane traffic overhead. Even the wind seemed to have gone missing with the electricity. Every sound seemed amplified. A squeak in the floorboards, Buddy smacking his lips, the seconds clicking by on the battery powered clock. As poorly as my eyes worked in the darkness, my ears caught every sound. I listened carefully. So far, no sounds of danger. Sweating profusely, I finally fell asleep after midnight. I slept well for the first time in three nights.

# Chapter 7

The first week passed without any significant incidents. People were getting used to living on edge, so fear seemed to dissipate as each day passed safely. I started to see my neighbors a little more each day. Perhaps my optimism was rubbing off on them. Every time I could corner one of them, I pleaded for calm and hope. We'd get answers soon, at least that's the message I chose to spread.

There were issues developing throughout the city, though. No one can expect ideal conditions without electricity.

Spoiled and rotten food became a big problem, a problem your olfactory sense made you keenly aware needed to be fixed. After three or four days, as people opened their refrigerator doors too often, everything started going bad – milk, eggs, cheese, fruit; fruit seemed to be the worst. The stench was unbelievable. Like most others, I cleaned out my formerly cold items after about five days. It was an offensive task. I bagged my trash and tossed them in my trashcan out front. Problem solved.

Well, not quite.

Within two days, we noticed our trashcans were starting to stink, badly. A foul odor wafted through the neighborhood whether there was a breeze or not. I took my trash and double, then triple, bagged everything. That helped for a while. In the next few days I poured every box of baking soda I had in the trash to slow down the growing stench. This would be a continuing issue.

Next came the war on waste, human waste. I, like everyone else, had made the mistake of using my toilets. Initially I used some extra water to flush the waste down its invisible magical channel. Quickly I determined I needed that extra water. I couldn't continue to use this dwindling resource for something so basic. I had to come up with a solution, and quick.

My neighbors had the same issue, in spades. Jim and Alexis had it bad. Jim and I had to put on paper masks and emptied his putrid bowl by hand, with a small cottage cheese container. We filled a bucket almost to the rim. Next, we dug a deep hole in the far back end of his lot. We put some sand in the bottom of the hole, along with some rocks. We added the waste carefully, neither of us wanted any of this sludge on us, and put a couple inches of dirt on top of that. Problem solved, for Jim and Alexis.

Ted had already solved this problem at his place. They were using a five-gallon bucket for all human excrement and putting it daily in a similar hole out back. It would be nice if he had shared this with others. Jim and I helped the Johnsons clean out the three toilets in their home. Charlotte has an issue with IBS, and stress made it worse. As expected, they had a huge mess to clean up. We opened every window of their home and emptied two cans of odor killer spray inside. I think we caught that problem just in time.

A third issue was that every trap in every sink in every house was emitting a nasty, foul smell. Flies were even starting to hatch in everyone's home. I grabbed a gallon of bleach and doused all the traps in my house. Now the house smelled like bleach, and fairly strong bleach. I may have been a little enthusiastic with the caustic chemical. I took my solution to my neighbors; they had the same issue. Well, everyone but Ted. He had again figured out the issue and had solved it, sans helping his nearby, suffering friends.

The flies were also ganging up on the trash outdoors. I couldn't get near the can without having to slice through thousands of those nasty suckers. I moved the can to the far end of my property, way in the back far away from the house or any entry doors. I helped each remaining neighbor do the same. They were all having the same issue; issues, really. All of us were susceptible to the problems that seemed to be cropping up more and more every day.

Ted told me late in the afternoon that we should ride our bikes up to the main grocery store in town and buy all the baking soda we could find. Actually a darn good idea, from Ted no less. While we were at it, we could swing past City Hall and see if anything new had gone up in the last 48 hours. Before yesterday, I had made it my daily ritual to hike over there and look for news. Each day I returned, disappointed, with nothing to report. The same note was still hanging on the door. The crowds shrank each day. How many families had deserted their homes in the first seven days of this crisis?

What really bothered me was the lack of a police presence, not only in our quaint, now smelly, neighborhood, but all around town. Each day when I walked or biked to City Hall, I always went over and pulled on the front door of the Police Station. Each day I found it locked. Nothing seemed to have changed inside. It all looked the same as day one. Where were our police officers? Maybe they were patrolling the perimeter of town. Maybe they were on foot patrol and they had come through when I wasn't looking for them. Maybe they were all at home doing the same things I was doing, the same as my neighbors. I just know that the whole town would feel better with some officers in plain sight.

The bike ride to the store took no more than ten minutes. Ted never shut up the entire time. He kept flapping his gums about this and that all the way. He debated – with himself, I was quiet – whether EMP's or a nuclear blast of some type had struck the world. He hypothesized that all of North America shared the same problem. His reasoning was simple – he hadn't seen a plane go over in a week. I couldn't argue with him there. What bothered me most is that Ted felt everyone left in the neighborhood should pack up and take off together as a group.

A number of times, far too many to count, I had implored Ted to stop this talk, especially when others were around. Seven people weren't going to all decide to leave their homes and hit the roads when nothing, at least nothing further, had happened. It didn't make sense. Would we run from the idea of bad things coming? That was stupid in my mind. We'd know when times got bad enough to leave. There'd be obvious signs. We hadn't seen anything since the lights went out to make us believe we were in trouble.

Then we got close to the grocery store. This was trouble.

The mass of humanity assembled outside the bank and the next-door grocery store was staggering. There had to be close to 300 people milling about, perhaps more. With closer inspection, I finally located five of our six policemen. Three were standing in front of the grocery store; one guarded each of the two entry doors to the bank. All were brandishing riot guns it appeared. Each of the five had on a Kevlar vest and helmet, not a good sign.

Up in the front of the crowd, people were angry. Some wanted admittance to the store; others wanted in at the bank. The bank seemed closed, even with its smashed front windows. The store appeared to be open, but no one could get inside. You had to speak to an officer, and they would relay your request. If the store had the item, or items, you desired they would pass it out to the police who would then give it to you, once you handed over the cash. It wasn't until Ted and I were far enough upfront that I noticed the store windows, approximately 100 linear feet of them, were all smashed as well. The top of each opening had a few small pieces of glass still intact, but that was it. I realized why I hadn't seen the police.

As I got almost to the front of the group, I heard a middle-aged man arguing with one of the cops. Their discussion was hot, on both ends.

"We need water," the man shouted at the thirty-something officer. "We need it bad. The store must have something left." The cop simply shook his head. "Well, what about sports drinks or pop? There must be something in there. If you'd just let us in we could look for ourselves."

"I already told you, everything you can drink is gone. It's been gone for days. The water gave out the first day. You're too late." The cop had to shout to be heard over the angry crowd up front. "And no one's getting in. We are not going to have chaos here. So unless there's something else you need, leave." The young man in uniform looked angry and tired.

"What about baking soda? Any left?" I shouted past the few people in front of me. The others were seeking basic necessities. The things that had already spoiled, or been sold. The cop called into the store, an older man shouted out "No."

This wasn't good. We needed something to help keep the smell down at home. "What about cat litter?" Ted shouted standing next to me. Good thinking, Ted. The man inside signaled yes. We were in luck.

"Send us out two large bags then... please." I could still show some manners, even if the assembled mob wasn't doing the same. We would use the cat litter as it would hide smells just as good as baking soda. Probably do an even better job. I saw two twenty pound bags coming from behind the cops. Good. The store manager whispered in the cop's ear. I came forward to claim my prize.

"Hundred dollars, cash."

I stared at the cop, he returned my stare with a stone face. He had to be joking.

"No way, $100? For two bags of cat litter? That's extortion."

His facial expression never changed. "Hundred dollars, cash." He repeated angrier this time. "Or else leave." Ted shoved five twenty-dollar bills forward. The cop grabbed it and handed it to the manager. He stuffed the loot in his pocket. I could only shake my head at the situation. I thought I'd been ripped off at the convenience store on the first day. This was worse, far worse.

As we strapped the bags to the back of the bikes, Ted gave me a funny look.

Ted finally spoke his mind. "Well, this has been an enlightening little trip." I, again, could only shake my head. There was nothing more to say. In a week's time society had crumbled much more than I had ever expected. Our only police were guarding the interests of local big business, as big as our town could support. Local merchants were skewering people with their inflated prices. Something told me these merchants were holding out on a lot of supplies. Something about not letting people in the store made me uneasy. Things were going to get worse. I knew that from the little Ted and I had seen this morning. Just how much worse was the question on my mind. And how soon?

# Chapter 8

Ted and I decided to take the cat litter back home first. The entire neighborhood would benefit from the reduced odors. I hoped we had enough to do the job, as forty pounds wouldn't go very far. I wasn't sure we had enough cash left to buy much more. We would pool the crowd later and collect any cash people would be willing to contribute.

We put five pounds of the litter in everyone's trashcan. It wasn't perfect, but it cut the smell tremendously. We still had five pounds for each can for later. Maybe Ted and I could come up with more cash or another idea to keep the smell down before venturing back out to the store. Ted set out to research the subject in any book he might have. That was fine. It kept Ted busy for a while and out of my way.

Buddy was okay by himself, so I rode up to City Hall to look for new postings. The only change on their door was the fact they took down the old sign. Nothing new, nothing at all, was on the door.

A nice older woman stared at me staring at the blank door. She looked at me for answers. "I suppose this means they've given up?"

"I don't know what it means. At least we know someone has been here in the past 24 hours. Maybe that's a good sign." I tried to give her a nice smile, but she frowned and looked again at the door, only down this time. There, lying on the ground was the paper someone posted a week ago. The tape must have let loose. I shook my head.

"I wonder what we're supposed to do? What we should be doing? What we might need to prepare for?" The nice woman with snow-white hair sighed deeply when she finished.

I wished I had words of encouragement for her. "I'll be honest, I'm starting to worry a little bit, ma'am." I looked down at her. I'm almost six feet tall. She was a good nine inches shorter than me, and rail thin. "Most of the police are up by the bank and grocery store. I'm afraid if they weren't there, those places would get looted. That doesn't leave much for the rest of us." She slowly nodded as I spoke. "I suppose our city officials are home taking care of what's theirs. Just like the rest of us. I don't know why we'd expect them to be any different. Especially if they weren't sure about what's happened." My usual optimism dwindled. I wasn't feeling so confident any more, how could I convince anyone else to be positive?

The older woman left quietly. She didn't have anything to add. Unlike before, there were very few people coming to City Hall for information any more. I felt most had given up on their government. How long could I hold out? As I rode home, I thought more of my food supply. I still had enough, but for how long? I had a month of food, maybe two, but certainly not much longer. I needed a food source for the future, one that could last a long time. I suppose I needed a garden but at this time of year? It was too late to plant anything. I wasn't even sure I could find seeds anywhere. And what would I do for meat after that?

Once back home, I grabbed a warm beer and plopped down on the back porch to think. Buddy nuzzled nearby, and I felt a little better. Man's best friend was still around, that helped. We were in trouble here. It was as plain as the nose on Buddy's black face. Food couldn't last forever, who knew how much clean water was around, sanitation was a joke, and it was obvious now that we were alone and on our own. Surrounded by what was once everything we could ever need, we now saw just how little we all possessed.

Two nights later, the heat gave way and we were in the middle of a nice rain shower. The time was late, after 1 a.m., when through my open bedroom window I heard glass break somewhere nearby. I crept out of bed and made my way to the front of my house facing the cul-de-sac. I thought that was the direction the sound had come from. As I peered into the darkness, I saw bits of movement by a front window of Winston's place. It appeared that we had someone trying to get in that house, for whatever reason. I needed to stop this crime; I needed a weapon.

I stumbled into the dark garage. I wished I had grabbed my flashlight by the bed before I headed down here. I felt my way past the car over to where we kept Dustin's t-ball equipment. I knew there had to be a bat over here somewhere. I stubbed my foot on the lawn mower and practically fell. This was a real mess. Finally, I reached down and felt the handle of a bat. This would have to do. I didn't realize until I was back in the house I had grabbed a plastic bat. I heard more glass break. I'd have to make do with what I had.

Outside was as black as night can be. I crept across the street and stood at the curb in front of Winston's place. I could make out three, then four, people attempting to get into his front door. Bravely I called out.

"Out kind of late aren't you fellows?" I got their attention alright. The apparent leader spun and approached me with the other three in tow. They looked to be 14 or so, young men.

"There ain't nobody home here, old man. So why don't you go back inside and mind your own business?" This was a confident lad.

"This neighborhood is my business. Why don't you leave and go somewhere else?" I stood my ground bravely. As brave as a man with a plastic bat deserved to feel. Several of them appeared to have knives.

The leader laughed at me. "Well, we need food. Or something decent we can trade for food. And since those people aren't home, we figure they won't mind helping us out. Don't make this rough, pops. Get lost." He took another step towards me, studying the bat in my hand. I hoped in the darkness it looked dangerous.

"Beat it kids. With this bat I can take all four of you on at once. And I bet I'll win. And you'll be all beat up then and sulk away with your tails between your legs. If you need food, go to the grocery store." I could see their faces better as my eyes adjusted to the dark. They didn't look too scared. They looked desperate more than anything.

The leader shook his head at me. "First off dude, cops are at the grocery store. So we ain't getting in. Second, no moola you see. So again, we aren't getting in. But most importantly that's a whiffle ball bat. What you gonna do, spank us?" They all laughed. "So crawl back over to your house and leave us alone, and we'll be gone as soon as we get what we need. Okay old man?" All four moved closer. I heard a sound from behind that refocused their attention.

"Well, this is a real shotgun." It was Jim. He racked a shell into the chamber. He had their attention. "And it has a habit of going off when I pull the trigger." The safety snapped off loudly in the stillness of the situation. "So why don't you get your teenaged butts out of here before we have to clean up a bunch of blood?" Jim pointed the shotgun at the formerly brave leader. The young punk spit and looked down the barrel of the weapon pointed at his chest.

"Great, John Freaking Wayne arrives. Just perfect." He spit again. "Dudes, we're hungry. We haven't had anything to eat in three days. We just want food, no trouble, just food." Finally, he seemed to be the reasonable one.

"Go find it somewhere else kid. Not here." Jim spoke as dryly as I'd ever heard from him. He was John Wayne.

One of the pack spoke from behind his leader. "Come on Ronnie. Let's get out of here. Not worth getting shot over." The true voice of reason finally spoke.

Ronnie nodded. "Sure, why not? Plenty of other places empty down the road I bet. Let's let Batman and Robin protect Gotham here. Idiots." He spit one last time and turned to leave with his band of thieves. I breathed for the first time in two minutes.

Jim's large hand patted my right shoulder as he spoke. "That was stupid, Bill. You need a gun." He had a valid point.

"Sharon never wanted guns in her house, Jim. Her rule. Maybe tomorrow morning I'll go over to Scott's place and check out what he may have left behind." I went back home. I could see Jim sitting on his front porch a half hour later.

# Chapter 9

Sleep was hard to come by the rest of the night. I'd hoped power would be restored before we had to face anything like thieves. But I was wrong, again. Maybe Sharon was right. Maybe I was too optimistic to be realistic. I didn't want to believe it before any of this. The cold hard facts were right in front of me. I couldn't ignore them any longer.

The city was doing nothing for its citizens. The police were only protecting the interests of several local wealthy people. The trash was piling up and stinking to high heaven. Our own human waste became a bigger issue every passing day. Local businesses were ripping off their local consumers, their neighbors, their friends. And now, common thieves roamed the night, right in my own neighborhood. How long would it be before real trouble showed up? How long could I safely stay here?

First thing the next morning, I opened Scott's garage and dug into his open gun cabinet. There was still an amazing amount of weaponry available. How much did this crazy kook have to start, I wondered? There were two or three shotguns, one regular rifle, one assault style rifle and two handguns. I didn't have much experience with any gun, so I hardly knew where to start. Maybe a handgun.

One gun showed a "22" on the barrel. The other stated "9mm." Nine millimeter. I'd heard good things about that weapon from people in the past. My older brother had said many times, "If a man can only have one gun, a nine mil is as good as it gets." So, nine mil it is. Scott seemed to have plenty of ammunition for the gun. I grabbed the black gun and four boxes of ammo, 20 rounds per box. I thought for a moment looking at the cabinet. Finally, I grabbed one more box of shells. No harm in having an even 100.

Ted met me in the street as I walked back to my house with my prizes in hand. He smiled at me in a funny way. I couldn't tell if he was about to scold me or pat me on the back. "Jim told me about what happened last night. I guess it makes sense to arm ourselves now." I looked at Ted with a nod. "Any more handguns in Scott's stash?"

"A .22 and plenty of ammo to boot. Otherwise, it's rifles and shotguns." So that's why he looked at me so sheepishly.

"I think I'll go grab the .22 pistol then. Just in case." Ted winked at me and patted me on the back as he headed for Scott's and I went home. Somehow, strangely, I felt safer already. Maybe it was because I had a gun. Maybe it was perhaps Ted and Jim and I all had guns. It didn't matter why; it was good to feel safer after last night.

I had hoped all along there would never be a need for violence of any type. Last night proved me wrong. It had taken the threat of violence, physical harm, to move those four bandits along. If Jim hadn't shown up with a gun, there was no way I could have stopped them. I thought back to Scott and all his warnings over the past five years. Yes, we all thought he, his wife and kids were all crazy. One hundred percent, certifiably bonkers, doomsday preppers. Just like we had seen on TV and laughed at so many times. Who was laughing now? Something told me Scott and his family was safer and sounder than almost anyone on earth now. He'd been right. And every last one of us had laughed at him behind his back. I shook my head at myself; I felt truly ashamed.

I sat at my kitchen table and stared at the sleek black pistol. I'd never touched a handgun before; it was so foreign, so raw. After a few minutes, I finally figured out how to set the safety and how to pop the clip out. I opened a box of ammo and started loading the clip. The rounds were so clean, so shiny. Almost pure. Pure death to whoever got in their way. Somehow this didn't feel right. Then I thought about the events of the previous night, and knew it had to be this way.

The clip held ten rounds. That was enough, right? That left 90 for later use. I doubted I would need the ten in the gun, much less another ten. I slid the clip into the handle of the gun and snapped it into place. I pulled the slide back carefully, and a shell popped into the chamber. I eased the slide forward, and the bullet slid in place. Making sure I had the safety set, I put the gun on the table. I was now an armed man. Less than two weeks into this mess, I knew I was a changed person. Hopefully, just a temporary change.

I looked around from the table at the stark interior of my home. Plants were beginning to wither. I couldn't spare the water for them. Maybe if I set up a rain collection barrel, I could have enough to give them a small drink each. When a person is low on water, plants suffer. Without air moving through the place, things were beginning to get a little dusty. I noticed some spider webs in several corners. I should clean up around here sooner than later, just in case Sharon did show up. Otherwise, she'll think I've been slacking again.

The more I thought about my missing spouse, the tenser I became. She had a way of doing that, getting me all worked up over what I saw as nothing. She believed she was being helpful. I considered her words spiteful most of the time. We tried to not fight in front of the kids. We wanted to present a united, happy front at all times. Still, they'd have to be idiots to miss seeing how much mommy and daddy despised each other, even at their young ages. I couldn't remember the last time Sharon and I had shared a laugh.

For some stupid reason, I was alone, worrying what Sharon would think of my housekeeping skills in the middle of Armageddon. I laughed. Who cared? If she couldn't see the situation for what it was, then so be it. Just look around babe, all hell is breaking loose. And yet, here I am waiting for you. In the middle of a full-blown 911 emergency, your loving husband sat at home anxiously awaiting your glorious return. Just what the hell was I thinking?

It had been long enough. She wasn't here and she wasn't coming, probably ever, I told myself. Not for the foreseeable future at least. And just how long would she expect me to stick around anyway? A month, a year, a decade? Really? With all the fury of the underworld about to descend upon us at any moment, she'd expect me to be here whenever it was she managed to get back? No, I seriously doubted even she would feel that way. Even Sharon wasn't that heartless.

My plan was cast; I needed to get out of here. Time to initiate Plan B. Off to Milwaukee. If my family couldn't come to me, I would go to them. After that we'd head for Bayfield. Well, a little beyond Bayfield. A few miles inland from Lake Superior, just over a hill that gave you a spectacular view of the cold lake, my dad's old hideaway. It wasn't much, maybe 750 square feet. It wasn't modern, no running water and no indoor bathroom. But, it was most likely safe. And probably still empty. Unless my sister and her family from Chicago were there. Nah, that wasn't possible. At best my parents would have somehow made it there from Green Bay, even that thought was a stretch.

A new problem popped into my head. What if Sharon and the kids were already on their way to Bayfield? Did Sharon know how to find the cabin? She never paid attention when we drove there. She was usually napping most of the way. Even if she could get to Bayfield, I wondered if she would remember the next four roads to take before the place came into view. Doubtful at best. Not in a million years at worst. If I didn't find my family on the road or in Milwaukee, I could always head for Bayfield when the time called for it. Somehow we'd all meet up and find each other.

At the next sign of trouble, I was gone. Decision made. I suddenly felt better about myself. I could think on my own. Make a tough choice now and then. I had to, I had no other choice. I had to believe that somehow I was going to be reunited with my wife and children. I couldn't bear the thought of never seeing them again, especially Rita and Dustin. They were my life after all, I didn't want any harm to come to them.

For a moment, I lost myself in the thought that Sharon was on the road when the power disappeared. Where would she find herself stranded? How long would she stay with the car? Maybe the Interstate was already crawling with a bad element, going from car to car taking what they wanted. I worried for my wife's safety. I knew she could take care of herself in most situations, but this was different. This was a time when no help was on the way. All anyone could do if stranded was count on the kindness of strangers. But, could a person tell the good from the bad? The best way to attack is with an open fist and a smile.

I shook my head. Sharon would be fine. She was fine. The kids were fine. If Milwaukee had these same issues, then she could have never left. She was with the kids alone with her mom and dad. That was a safe place for her to be, for all of them. I was sure I would find them there. They wouldn't be able to make the trip to Bayfield from Milwaukee. That was too far. I think Sharon once looked at the map and determined it was almost 400 miles. Seven plus hours by car. On foot, at 15 miles per day, almost a month. No, couldn't happen. I would have to go and find them. That was the best solution.

I went to the garage and opened the overhead door. Light flooded the previously pitch black space. I dug in the rafters and got down the kid carrier, the kind that attaches to the rear of a bike and pulls behind. The tires needed some attention. I found the tire pump up front and blasted each with a dozen pumps. Much better. I had my ride out front already, and the ability to take along whatever provisions and supplies I would need. I threw the pump in the carrier, the inaugural item for my trip.

I grabbed some blankets from inside and used them for packing. I grabbed some canned goods that would come along – fruit, veggies and beans. I had pork and beans, black beans, red beans, garbanzo beans; Sharon had us well stocked on beans. If I remember correctly, beans of all kinds are a source of protein. It didn't matter if I was right or not, they were all coming along. There were several cans of evaporated milk, a couple jars of salsa, a number of boxes of mac and cheese. I was going to be sitting pretty with food for this trip.

One thing I was short on was cash. Like down to my last ten dollars or so. Maybe twenty if I robbed the piggy banks in the house. That wouldn't get me squat here, much less on the road. I would have to canvass the neighbors to see if anyone had excess they could spare. I could give them a check in hopes the banks would reopen someday. I scoffed at myself. I had over $1,000 in my bank account and no way to get at it. How stupid of me. But, how was I to know this would happen?

I grabbed some extra clothes, an extra pair of shoes and a pair of hiking boots, extra candles, two flashlights, and headed for the garage again. My carrier wasn't even half full. Excellent. I took a bunch of rope and threw it in, then a couple of lighters we used for Tiki torches. I needed to be able to start a fire no matter where I was. A few more miscellaneous supplies and a gallon of water topped off my packing. As the time to leave got closer, whenever that might be, I'd grab more. I had a good start. I walked over to Ted's to talk cash.

# Chapter 10

I found Ted and Alice sitting on their patio drinking a bottle of warm wine. Some type of white that I'm sure would have been much better chilled. They were making the best of things. I smiled as I approached. They smiled back.

"Hey neighbor. A glass of Chardonnay?" Alice was the best hostess I knew.

"Sure, why not. I'm getting sick of warm beer over at my place." Alice went inside and got another wine goblet. She poured me a tall one.

"It's warm, but it's still good." Alice handed over the wine and gave me a small hug. I guess she figured I could use one. She was right. "How you holding up alone?" I could see the pain on her face. Pain for my missing family.

"Doing okay. Wish Sharon and the kids weren't in Milwaukee, but I suppose they're as safe there as any place." I looked at Ted, he was nodding. "Ted, how far you think this thing reaches? Us? Midwest?"

Ted frowned. "If I had to guess Bill, I'd say the country got slammed. I haven't seen a plane go over since D-Day, have you?" No, I hadn't. "I think we are all in this mess together. Every last one of the 330 million citizens of this country." He looked up at me not too serious. "Take solace in that, my friend. We are all in this together." His words helped, but only slightly. I needed to get to my needs next.

"Say Ted..." He looked up at me. "How much cash you got laying around? How much can you spare? I'm down to about $20 and I'm thinking of taking off for Milwaukee sometime soon." He was still smiling, that was a good sign. "I just don't want to make the trip with no money."

He looked over at Alice. "Well, we got a couple thousand in cash in the house, hidden in various spots. We always do." I knew I could count on his cunning. "I suppose we could give you $500, maybe $600. Not sure we'll need all that cash in the days to come." He looked up at me again. "Will that help?"

I breathed a huge sigh of relief. "Yeah, tremendously. You're a lifesaver. I'll give you a check for that amount, plus interest." He shook his head still smiling.

"You can give us a check, but we don't want interest, Bill. You've been a great neighbor, a real friend." He laughed slightly. "Not sure we'll be able to cash that check anytime soon, but you never know I suppose. Could take months to get this all straightened out."

That was a sobering comment. I hadn't thought of any timeframe thus far. I knew we had trouble, but for how long, well that was anyone's guess. But if anyone would have a handle on the situation it would be Ted. He was keen to all the interworking of the economy. "You think it will take months?"

Ted shrugged. "I really don't know for sure. But, I think it will. Maybe even a year or so. We're kind of in uncharted territory here, my friend." Alice reappeared from the house as we spoke and drank the warm wine. She handed me a stack of twenty-dollar bills.

"Here's $700, Bill. Just in case." I sighed and took the cash from her. Suddenly I was twelve again asking my parents for an advance on my allowance.

"You people, you've always been so good to us. Me, and Sharon, and the kids. We couldn't have picked better neighbors." I gave Alice a hug and patted Ted on the shoulder.

He grabbed my hand as I went to leave. "Whatever you do, be careful. I think the descent into lawlessness will be quick out there, away from the city. No law enforcement, at least not enough to make a difference. So just be real careful." I nodded at them. "Taking your bike?"

"Yeah. Bike with some supplies on back in that old kid carrier. Four days I think should get me there. I suppose if I really pushed it I could get there in three. I figure if I split it up it wouldn't be so bad that way."

I could see the concern in their faces.

"Think you'll find them there?" Alice asked a good question.

I shook my head and looked off into Ted's backyard. "Not sure really. I mean they should be there, right? But who knows." I looked back at their caring faces. "We'll just have to see what time brings me." I looked closer at Ted. "How about you? Got enough insulin to hold you for a while?"

Ted smiled yet again. "I'm fine for now. I might peddle over to the drug store in the next day or two and see if they're opened. As of yesterday they weren't. So we can only hope. Otherwise, I'll just have to monitor it as best I can until the supplies run out." He patted Alice's hand; she had a tear in the corner of her right eye. "After that, who knows? Who knows..."

I took my leave and made further preparations. I had an extensive list to be sure I had everything necessary for my trip. With a weapon and a stack of cash, I was pretty close to being ready. Timing would be the most significant factor for my departure. I wanted to beat trouble out of the city. I wanted to stay ahead of any and all rough elements. I wasn't sure how I would know the right time to leave. Nature would most likely be letting me know.

Two nights later as I lay in bed sleeping soundly, I awoke to noises. I wasn't sure of the exact noise, but I heard yelling as I lay quietly. It sounded like it was in the next neighborhood to the west. Maybe two or three blocks from my spot. There was a flurry of yelling and screaming. Then suddenly, it was quiet.

I rolled over and petted Buddy on his head. The sound had woken him up too. As I settled back into my pillow, the first sounds of real trouble shattered the silence. One gunshot, then another. Then, several more. I jumped out of bed and looked out the back bedroom window. As suddenly as it had started, it was over. Then came the cries for help and wailing from injured people. Trouble was at hand. It was time to leave.

In the morning, Ted had news for the few people left in our immediate area. He had snuck over to the war zone, as he called it, at first light and got a first-hand account from the people of that area. A group of three misfits had tried to break into a home where people were still living. The property owner took exception to their antics and warned them off with loud, angry shouts. When they wouldn't leave, he fired a weapon at them. He missed, but one of the vagrants had hit him with their return volley. While the man survived, and the hoodlums left, the conflict came to blood. The news was unnerving.

I got everything ready with great haste. It was day 18 without power and time to leave. I went around the neighborhood and said my goodbyes. First, Charles and Charlotte Johnson, then Ted and Alice next door. We exchanged handshakes and hugs, and I received prayers for a safe journey. I wished them all well with whatever they decided to do in the near future. For these four older people, it meant staying put.

Alexis had seen me preparing and came over as I was checking my equipment over one last time. She had been crying again, her eyes were red and swollen. I was going to go say goodbye to Jim and her last, but hadn't made it that far yet. She beat me to the punch.

"You're not really leaving, are you?" As Alexis looked at me, I instantly felt guilty for some unknown reason.

"Yeah, it's time. We know what happened two blocks away last night. It's not going to be safe here much longer Alexis. You and Jim need to consider heading south. Maybe 30 miles or so. Find a farm with a family that will take you in. It's the best way right now. The best way to survive."

She shook her head at my words. "I can't believe you are abandoning us, Bill. What am I supposed to do?" Her large brown eyes stared at my empty expression. What could I say?

"I have to do what's best for me, Alexis. And my family. That's why I think you need to get out of here too, okay?"

She looked back at her house. "Jim will be dead within a week. He'll kill himself. I know it, you know it. He hasn't slept hardly at all since this started. He just walks around mumbling to himself playing with the trigger on his gun." She looked deeper into my eyes, and moved closer to my body. "You're only kidding yourself if you think he'll protect me. He hasn't spoken to me in a week. I don't even think he knows who I am anymore." She moved against me with her body, strangely. It dawned on me quickly she was in survival mode. "Take me with you. Please? We could go somewhere else, alone, and start a new life together. You'll never find Sharon and the kids, you know that. I could be good for you. A new, better wife for you, Bill." My mind raced as she leaned in even closer. I put my hand on her shoulder to keep her from getting any closer. She looked mad.

"No, Alexis. No." More tears. "It can't be like that. Jim needs you. Maybe you don't think so now, but he will, soon. And, I'm sure Sharon and I will find each other. There's always hope." I tried to smile at Alexis, but she looked down. I was foiling her plan for escape. "And, how would we ever explain that to my wife?"

Truthfully, I was half tempted. I'd never see Sharon again most likely, and Alexis was a fine young woman. It just went against every fiber of my moral being. It just wasn't right, even in this situation.

She looked up at me sideways. "I'm going to die here. I'm going to die here, alone. And it will be your fault. Because you are so worried about how it would look. I'll try and remember that concern when I'm being raped and bludgeoned to death because my husband killed himself, and the only decent neighbor I had couldn't find it in his soul to save me." She began to walk away. "That's fine, Bill. I hope you die out there on the road. You've given me a death sentence."

I wanted to call out to Alexis one last time, but it wouldn't have made a difference. What I had done was right, proper. One man doesn't take another man's wife. Even in these times. Even if the offer was tempting. As for her words – I knew she didn't mean them. At least I hoped so.

I thought about it for a moment more. Alexis was at least ten years younger than me, probably more. She was in great shape and usually had a sweet personality. She could be a good wife for anyone. I thought about calling for her. I thought hard. I almost did call for her. But I just couldn't. I couldn't do that to her, or to Jim. I couldn't do that to Sharon or the kids.

I watched Alexis go back into her house. Buddy suddenly appeared by my side snapping me back into the moment. It was time to leave. I checked my supplies over one last time against my list. As far as I could tell, I had everything I needed. I stared at my house wondering if I was ever coming back. Could this be it for the place I had lived for the past ten plus years? The only place my children had even known as home? Would I ever be back? Sadness ran through me with a chill. This was harder than I thought it would be. I jumped on my bike and called to Buddy to follow. I didn't bother to close the garage door as I left.

# Chapter 11

I pedaled easily up to the main road of town under clear blue skies. There I would turn to the west and bike another mile or so to the entrance ramp to Interstate 694. Heading north two miles on 694 I would head east on 94, into Wisconsin. Nine hilly miles of freeway would take me to the bridge crossing over the St. Croix River. Finally a steep hill would bring me safely into the farmlands of west-central Wisconsin.

Main Street to 694 was easy going. There were some people on the road, but not what I would call a lot. I only saw three others on bikes as I made my way to the freeway. Buddy trotted next to me as we coasted onto the four-lane highway. As I looked ahead I saw more people than I had expected. Many more. And most appeared to be on foot.

Slowly I descended the on-ramp, carefully weaving in and out of the crowd. Perhaps I was not the only person who'd had enough of waiting. Some people pulled wagons, others small carts, and more had on large backpacks. Whatever was causing this exit, people seemed to be prepared and were bringing with them the same necessities I deemed important.

I noticed several other people with set-ups similar to mine. They also used their bikes to tow some type of carrier. At that moment I knew I was on the correct path. I wasn't the only one on the road looking for something. Maybe they weren't searching for lost family members like me, but they were in search of something. Or maybe just fleeing trouble that was at their doorsteps – also like me.

A young family caught my attention ahead. Mom and Dad pedaled their sturdy mountain bikes forward, as two small children rode behind in a carrier attached to their mother's bike. It looked to me like dad had a heavy load in the carrier he pulled. Then I noticed one of his tires was flat. I stood in my pedals to pump hard to catch them.

"Say, buddy, wait up." I called ahead to the quartet. Mom looked back first and called for her husband's attention.

"Brad, stop. This man needs something." I smiled at the small woman. I couldn't tell if she was frightened by my fast approach. Thick brown sunglasses covered her eyes.

Her husband stopped and looked back skeptically. "What you need, pal?" He wasn't happy to be stopping at this point. I pointed at his rear tire on his bike.

"You're flat back there. It's making your journey twice as difficult as it needs to be. I've got a pump, let's get you some air." His young wife walked next to him.

"That's very sweet of you, sir. Isn't it Brad?" She smiled at me and then to her scowling husband.

"I've got my own pump. I can take care of my own tire." He didn't wait around for any further discussion and began digging in his carrier for his pump. I shrugged.

His wife touched my arm softly as I turned to leave. "Thank you. That was very kind of you. You'll have to forgive Brad," she bobbed her head in her husband's direction. "He hasn't been himself lately. Someone broke into our home in the middle of the night two days ago. Brad chased them off with a shovel, but he hasn't slept since. He's not himself." She tried to give me a tired smile, but looked worn out instead.

"I understand. Happening everywhere now." I watched as her man frantically pumped away on his flat. "Where are you headed?" I looked back to the wife as she raised her sunglasses exposing her pretty, but tired, green eyes.

"Green Bay. At least we hope so. That's where all my family lives. Since Brad's an only child we figured we'd go by my family. There should be strength in numbers at least." I nodded as she finished.

"I suppose you'll take 94 to 29, and then 29 all the way across?" She got a nice smile out this time showing her agreement. "How far is that?" She scrunched up her nose a little, thinking to herself.

"Right around 260 miles. How long do you think that will take us? Brad thinks we can get there in two days. But I'm not so sure." I stared up at the hazy blue sky above. Sweat stung my eyes.

"Well, if you average ten miles an hour, that would be a little more than a day. But you'll have to stop for breaks and who knows what the roads will be like at night." I watched Brad closer. He wasn't making much progress on the flat. "Bad tube, Brad?" He cast a harsh glare back my way.

"Damn it Wendy. I told you we can't be telling everyone our names out here. We don't have enough to share with every stranger you want to take in." He wiped some sweat from his brow, his mood softening a little. "Yeah, no air going in. I don't know what's wrong." I walked over to offer him my help. I saw the problem after a quick inspection of his fitting.

"You lost the pokey thing on the end. It's not depressing the valve." I smiled up at Brad. "Here, let me go grab mine. We'll have you back on your way in no time." I felt his hand on my shoulder as I turned for my supplies.

"Thank you. Really, I'm sorry. I just haven't slept much lately. Not myself I suppose." Brad looked tired – no, exhausted.

"It's fine, Brad. It will be okay."

With the help of an operating pump, Brad's tire was as good as new in no time. We shook hands and parted ways. I pedaled ahead. My trip would require me staying on my bike for as many hours each day as possible. I didn't mind helping the young family. I just knew I couldn't afford a lot of these types of breaks.

My journey continued north on 694 as I weaved in and out of groups of walkers. The general mood was decent amongst the people. No one made any comments about how lucky I was to have a bike and not to be on foot. I felt guilty though. I seemed to be showing off my superiority over the average traveler. At least that's how I felt.

When I turned east on the ramp to Interstate 94 I got my first real view of just how bad the crisis really was. I stopped and leaned forward on my handlebars. I scanned the road to the east, as I far as I could see, then back to the west. The mass of humanity on the road took my breath away.

There were hundreds of people on the first part of my journey. My short two-mile trip up 694. But now I stood awe struck. There were thousands on the main freeway. Many thousands. Instantly I thought of the Israelites fleeing Egypt. Maybe Moses was somewhere out front even now.

Just where were all of these people going? What could they all be running from? Or maybe running to? The road wasn't packed with people, but I couldn't see a lot of empty pavement from my vantage point. This meant trouble. This meant slow going.

The few travelers that I saw on bikes were moving slower than I had hoped they would be. Instead of weaving in and out of the mass, they were traveling in the ditches. From what I could tell, their progress was slow. I closed my eyes to think of other options. None came to mind. I would have to become one of the many. Somehow I would have to fit in with the rest, the group, the swarm.

Brad and Wendy caught up with me going down the ramp. I looked over and saw Brad's foul expression. I'm sure I didn't look much happier myself.

"How far you suppose this stretches into Wisconsin...?" He gave me a puzzled look. It struck me finally, he'd never asked my name.

"Bill. Bill Carlson. And as for how far," I shrugged, "I don't know. Just stick tight with me. You and your wife and the kids. We'll be safer together." He nodded as he looked back to Wendy and told her to stay close. When I glanced back I noticed a concerned look from the previously happy face.

We made it exactly nowhere before we were off our bikes and walking them along with the crowd of people. The ditch was impossible. I saw that from higher up and Brad agreed. And there was no way to weave with this many people on the road. So we took to foot. It was safer and probably the most sociable thing to do, given the circumstances. I hoped this crowd would thin out once we crossed the bridge, still some eight miles ahead.

"Bill?" Wendy called out from just behind me. "Where are you headed? I don't believe I asked you that before." No, she hadn't.

"Milwaukee." Brad stopped and looked at me carefully. "You don't like Milwaukee, Brad?" I smiled broadly at him.

He laughed and answered. "No. Milwaukee's fine. Just a long ways south. You know, Chicago's just south of there. If the crowd on this road is any indication, there's gonna be a lot of people on the roads down there." He looked ahead at the slow moving crowd and shook his head.

"I know," I answered. "It's just that my wife and kids are down there. I don't expect them to venture out and find me. So I'll go get them. After we're all together, we can decide where to go from there." We walked by a small crying child on the side of the road. What appeared to be a sister was trying to comfort him or her. "Who knows, maybe this will all blow over in a couple weeks. Maybe things will get back to normal sooner than we think." I looked over at Brad again. "There's always hope, right?" I hoped for a nod, but got a frown instead.

"I think it was solar flares that caused this. Big, huge solar flares. Like back in the 1860s." I had no idea what Brad was referring to and my look gave away my lack of knowledge. He continued. "Back in 1859 or 1860, I can't remember the exact year, there was a period of huge solar flares. Like a weeks worth. The radiation from the flares destroyed all sorts of telegraph wires in the US and in Europe. It burned them right up." Our little group stopped on the side of the road so I could question Brad's theory.

"Okay. Let's say it was solar flares. Like those back in the 1800s. Can't say I've ever heard of that, but let's say that same thing happened. It would burn up all the phone and electrical wires then, right?" Brad nodded eagerly. "Well, that explains some of this. But not everything. Our phones don't work, our cars don't go. Got an explanation for that?" Brad's eyes opened wide.

"Everything's been irradiated. A massive radioactive wave went through and wiped everything out. I work with computers, Bill. That much radiation, that large of a pulse would kill everything." Brad winked and leaned back to pick his small daughter up from the ground. I thought further.

"So just like an Electromagnetic Pulse. Right?" Brad's eyebrows rose.

"Worse. And do you know why?" He could see the obvious stupidity on my face. "It's worldwide, Bill. Not just here, not just there... everywhere." Wendy took off her sunglasses and wiped her dry mouth. She had apparently heard this all before. Brad stared at me intently. "You know what that means, Bill? For all of us? For all of humanity?"

I continued to stare into Wendy's tired, dead eyes. I knew what he was going to say. The worst part was he might even be right.

"We're screwed, Bill. Humanity is so screwed. And civilization will never be the same – ever." I watched Wendy's lips tighten. Our eyes fixed on one another's. I stared at her pretty green eyes as they slowly became covered with a light coating of tears. Finally, a single tear broke free and slid down her left cheek. This idiot sounded like he knew what he was talking about. Damn him.

# Chapter 12

We walked and talked for the next half hour. We had a lot in common. Brad and I were both college grads, professionals in our fields. The same held true for Wendy and Sharon. They had two children, a girl and a boy, and so did I. Rather we, Sharon and me. They lived some ten miles south of me in the small city of Cottage Grove. The far south end of that city.

Brad had similar thoughts as mine. He believed they should stay put at first. Stick together with the neighbors and get strength from each other. It wasn't until the lawless element arrived that Brad even considered leaving. But once he and Wendy decided on a better place for them to be, they packed up and left their home in less than 48 hours. Not exactly my same path, but close enough.

After an hour in the hot August sun, I began to notice more and more people heading against the grain on both sides of the freeway. While the main crowd was heading east, some – quite a few now – were heading west; into the Twin Cities. Away from safety and into danger? That didn't make any sense. Finally I stopped a group of friendly looking people. Two guys in Twins caps along with their girlfriends or wives. It was difficult to tell.

"Excuse me, friend." The group smiled at us and stopped without any argument. "Can you tell me why you're headed into town instead of into Wisconsin? It seems to be going against the grain of traffic." The taller of the two men spoke first.

"Easy man. The bridge is closed up ahead. People just don't realize it yet. Some old lady told us about two miles back, just up over the next hill." He pointed east. Now his friend chimed in.

"For the first half mile or so we tried to tell everyone. But either they didn't believe us or they just don't care." His lady friend slid in beside him and took his hand in hers.

"So you saw this? With you own two eyes? Right?" Their story didn't make sense to me. Why would they close the bridge into Wisconsin?

"No," the taller one spoke again. "But we heard gunfire up ahead, so we all agreed not to push our luck. Maybe it's not closed, but we aren't ready to die trying to get across. Dig it?" He gazed between Brad, Wendy and myself. I looked at Brad for his thoughts. His stare looked far off.

"Go check it out man." The shortest of the pair took off his cap, exposing spiked blond hair. He ran a cloth over his sweaty scalp. "Another six miles or so and you can see for yourself." Brad nodded at this notion.

"I believe we will go look at the situation. But thanks for the advice." Brad had a plan. I could see it in his eyes. "Safe travels to you all."

We left the group and continued east. When we made it to the top of the next hill, the tides of the swarm had changed. Where before most of the crowd was headed east, we could see the majority of the crowd was now headed west. Wendy reached forward and stopped Brad. Brad reached for my arm to stop me.

"This doesn't look so good Brad." Wendy's voice was small and had a slight tremble. "Bill, what are your thoughts?" I turned to address them both. I smiled at their children. They'd been so quiet thus far, I had forgotten they were even there.

"What are you thinking, Brad? I can always go south to cross somewhere else. But what are your thoughts?" I decided earlier to stick with Brad and Wendy for as long as I could. We could offer each other some protection that way.

Brad looked back at Wendy. "We really need to cross here if we can. Our route is straight if we can just stay on this road. If there's anyway we can get through, we really need to." His gaze returned to me. I smiled.

"Well, it won't hurt anything to go check it out. Whether we cross here or Stillwater or Prescott, they're all accessible from the road that runs along the river. So let's keep going. Maybe we'll get lucky." We moved on.

A half hour later we came to a huge roadblock. A large group was stopped listening to another smaller group speak. We joined the mass of people.

"No. Turn back. You can't cross there today. There's trouble. I saw it with my own eyes. I stood right there at the crest of the hill and looked down on it." An older grey haired man spoke loudly to the group. His arms flailed as he spoke.

"What exactly did you see? Who's blocking the road?" Someone from our left called out for more information. The old man took a deep breath and started his tale once more.

"No one's blocking the road per se. There's a battle going on down there. The have's are fighting the have not's. Understand?" Hearing murmurs from the crowd he continued on. "In the middle of the bridge, both directions, a war has started. There's a group there, mostly men it looks like, and they're taking things from people. Almost everything. Some gave up their stuff and they were let through. But then some resisted and tried to scamper past. That's when the shooting started. People were diving everywhere for cover. I saw people jump off the bridge." I flinched. The water was some 40 feet below the bridge surface.

"Isn't anyone helping? Where's the police?" Another voice rose from the opposite side of the crowd. The old man shook his head.

"No, not from what I saw. And I watched for over an hour." He turned and looked around the group surrounding him. "No one's coming. No help's on the way. Go back to where you came from. Try another day. You can't get through today." The crowd grumbled and began to scatter. I turned to Brad and Wendy.

"Okay, here's the plan. We cut cross-country to the north. To Stillwater. We can cross there." Both nodded their agreement. Eight miles to the north was the next closest bridge crossing. A new traveler stopped and shook his head at my words.

"Can't get through up there. I tried it this morning. Stillwater's closed down." His tired sun burnt face told me he wasn't lying. Still I questioned him.

"The bridge is closed?" I saw him shake his head at my question.

"No, the town is locked down. They aren't letting anyone in. I was there this morning. Got turned down. I guess Prescott is the next bridge down river. Maybe we can cross there." Before I could say anything a new voice joined our discussion.

"Can't get through there either." Another older man spoke. He looked to be almost 60, but in great shape. "I came from there last night. Wanted to get back home from Hastings to Prescott. There's some sort of militia down there not letting anybody cross." He looked closely at Wendy and then her children. "I begged, I pleaded. I told them they could follow me home. Still wouldn't let me through. They didn't give me any reason. Just said I couldn't cross there. Bastards." He blushed slightly at Wendy. "Sorry ma'am. Didn't mean to use such harsh language in front of you and your children." Wendy smiled and rubbed his shirt sleeved armed.

"It's all right. No offense taken, sir." I looked at Brad, his face blank.

I thought of our options, out loud for Brad and Wendy's benefit. "Okay, Osceola is about 30 miles north. We can try and cross there. Otherwise," I let my head fall forward. "Wabasha to the south. But that's more than 60 miles from here. And way off your path." Wendy and Brad shared a helpless look. I felt so bad for them.

"Where you all headed?" the older man asked. We answered, without looking up. He nodded at Green Bay, but his head shook wildly at the mention of Milwaukee. "That's not good." I stared at his weather worn face.

"What's no good?" I hoped he had a decent answer for me.

"Never get past Madison on the freeway. I hear talk of road trouble down there. Seems people in need have taken to the main roads looking for easy prey. Maybe you can make it past them. You just won't have a bike or any supplies any more. They'll take everything from you. I hear if you don't give it up, well... you know." His sad look told me everything I needed to know. "Besides, I hear of nuclear trouble down towards Chicago. People coming from the south are talking about it. Sounds like it's spreading in all directions. No telling how safe Milwaukee will be."

I quickly dismissed his talk of nuclear issues. That's just how rumors started. I was sure it was nothing more than a myth at best. As for the trouble I would find on the road, I smiled at the group around me. "I have a gun with me. I'm not too worried. I know how to protect myself." As the last words left my lips, I froze. My gun, my bullets; crap. They weren't with me. They were sitting safely on my dining room table back at my house. I dropped to my knees and lowered my head. I felt Wendy kneel next to me.

"What's wrong, Bill?" I looked deep into her green eyes and laughed at myself.

"My protection is sitting on my table; back in Woodbury. At my home." A look of shock crossed her face. "I have to go back and get that gun and all my ammo." Buddy walked up beside me from nowhere. I hadn't paid him any attention since I had hit 694. He licked my sweaty face.

"I'd advise you get that gun, son." The old man freely shared more of his wisdom. "If you think you're going to Milwaukee, you're going to need the protection." He was right, of course.

Brad and Wendy decided to continue on without me. Daylight was already burning away and they had many, many miles to travel with two small children. I couldn't blame them. I'd already proven to be not a great help. The guy with a gun, just not on him right now. I watched them continue east towards the river and perhaps trouble. Brad was determined to try and cross at Hudson. Osceola was a ways to the north and Wabasha was too far south for his needs. So they would do their best to cross where other's warned them not to travel.

# Chapter 13

Pedaling quickly, I made my way back into Woodbury, back home. If I was lucky, I could grab the gun and be back on the road within hours of discovering my mistake. _If_ everything went smooth. When I rounded the last corner to my house, all plans disappeared from my mind.

The scene laid in front of me could only be described as chaos. Pure, utter chaos. What struck me most was seeing Ted running towards me after he recognized my form. Ted was running; Ted never ran - anywhere. The second attention grabber was in his hand he carried the .22 pistol. The one he took from Scott's house. Ted was running; running with a gun.

"Holy crap, Bill," Ted said, almost out of breath. "Are we ever glad to see you." I stared at his yellow tee shirt, covered in deep red blood. Agog, my eyes came up to his face.

"What the hell happened here, Ted? I haven't been gone that long. What happened?" He placed a hand on my shoulder as I finished.

"Trouble showed up again. Those same four punks from the other night. This time they had weapons." He snuck a peek back towards his house before continuing. "Seems they think we have something we're protecting at Winston's house." His expression tightened. "Something we're hiding." I shook my head.

"Why would they think that? All we did..." Words ended as I thought back to that night. Did I maybe over do the protection aspect of my speech? Did I say something wrong? I chased that thought away and looked back at Ted again. "I don't understand. There's got to be hundreds of empty houses in Woodbury. Why do they want this one so bad?" Ted shrugged and glanced back at his house again.

"Don't know." His eyes caught mine. Something was wrong.

"Whose blood is that, Ted? Who got shot?" He grimaced at my words.

"One minute we're standing there, telling them to leave. Wasn't going well." Ted stroked his sweaty chin with his left hand. "Finally, Jim touches off a blast to show them we mean business. Scared everyone, including me." Ted stared at his feet.

"Ted, who got shot?" I needed an answer.

"So they all jumped back. Looked like they were leaving. Then all of a sudden, they all have guns, handguns. Shooting starts; got wild kinda quick, ya know." Ted seemed lost.

I grabbed Ted's collar. "Ted, answer me. Who got shot?" I spoke slow and deliberate. He let out a small sigh.

"Jim. He got shot in the thigh." He saw my face darken. "But that's it. No one else got hurt, and we chased them off after that. For now at least." His words trailed off again.

"Where is he?" Ted looked confused. "Jim, damn it. Where's Jim?" Ted came back to the moment, finally.

"My garage. Let's go." Buddy followed as I left my bike in the middle of the road and trotted after Ted to his open garage. Alexis saw me coming and charged me. I was afraid of this. There was more concern on her tear-covered face than anger. She ran out and hugged me tightly.

"Thank God you're back." She squeezed tighter than I thought possible. "It's awful. They shot Jim. For no reason." She stared up at my face. "They just shot him." I patted her back and pointed her in the direction of the front stoop.

Safely away from the others, I spoke quietly to the shaken young woman. "Alexis, what happened? Ted's not telling me everything. At least I don't think he is." She opened her mouth, but I stopped her. "Tell me slow and start at the beginning. Okay?" She nodded.

"About an hour ago, those four guys from the other night showed up. Ted saw them right away and yelled for Jim. Ted went over first, yelling at them." She peered around the corner to be sure Ted wasn't listening to us. I looked as well. Ted was busy with Jim. For being shot and all, Jim seemed fairly calm. She started again.

"They were yelling something about they knew there was things hidden in that house. The Hillsberg's house." I gave her a quick nod. "I don't know what happened next. Alice screamed and then someone shot. By the time I looked back, everyone had a gun and they all started shooting." The story went by too fast. There were obvious holes. I needed Alexis to slow down.

"Are you sure it was them? The same kids?" Alexis nodded quickly. "How do you know? For sure, Alexis. Not just what Ted said."

She thought carefully. "They said they just knew by the way we were guarding that house the other night, they were sure there must be a huge stash of something in there. Something like that." She looked confused and shook her head. "Then they started shooting."

I tried to piece together the two tales. Details were coming out, but I didn't have the complete picture just yet. "When did Jim get shot? Before he shot or after his shot?" She looked surprised.

"I didn't know Jim shot. I heard a loud blast and then a lot of smaller ones. I suppose Jim could have shot first." She stared at me, troubled.

"Don't worry about that. They all shot, so it's no big deal." I moved closer to Alexis. "How many times did they shoot? Do you remember?" She carefully considered my question.

"A lot. Maybe 20; maybe more." I let out a big sigh. That was a lot of shooting. But I suppose with the shots that Ted would have fired in return, it might be close to the number.

"How many times do you think Ted shot? About?" She looked confused, again. A frown crossed her small face and she glanced away. "Alexis? Did Ted shoot first?"

She stared at me more serious than I think I've ever seen a person look. Quietly, she answered. "Ted never shot. Not even once. I saw him pointing his gun. But I never heard a shot from him. Except for the first shot, they all came from the other group." Ted had frozen. He probably forgot to click the safety off. Whatever caused it to happen, Ted never got into the fray. I squeezed my forehead tight.

"How many of the other guys got hit? Did you see any of them being carried off or limping." I watched her eyes as she shook her head. Dang it.

"They only ran off when Jim fell. I heard them say something about coming back later. But they left when Jim went down. I don't think his wound is bad. I think he just got grazed on his thigh. But that was enough to scare them off." Alexis finished quietly.

"Did anyone else come close to getting hit? Ted? Alice? You maybe?" Tears streaked her face. Large brown doe eyes stared intently.

"Ted. One guy stood there and shot four or five times at Ted. I don't know how he missed. He was only ten yards away. Every time he shot, Ted flinched. But in the end, not one bullet hit him. I thought he was dead with every shot, but he just stood there, flinching, holding his gun out." Alexis stopped and sobbed. No wonder Ted seemed so off to me. He'd stared death in the face and lived to tell the story.

We joined the rest of the group in the garage. The group was small now. Almost tiny you could say. Jim sat reclined on a chaise lounge surrounded by Ted, Alice, Charles and Charlotte Johnson, and Alexis and myself. Alice, Charles, and Charlotte all looked like they'd seen a ghost. Their faces were white, hands shaky and spirits low. They spoke in soft tones trying to be brave, but their actions denied their lofty motives. Sweat poured down Alice's pale face. She tried to wipe it away with a piece of paper towel, but the towel was already soaked.

Putting my hand on Jim's shoulder, I knelt down and spoke. "Hey big guy." His wound was bloody and raw, but looked superficial. "I think you're going to live." He nodded but didn't speak. "It looks like someone has that wound all cleaned up, so that's good. A lot of pain?"

"I knew those guys would be back, Bill. I could just feel it in my bones." He stared harshly at me. "I wasn't about to let them, or anyone else, loot that house. Not on my watch." Maybe he was in shock, maybe not. He sounded rational. "You taught me that, Bill. Stand up for what's yours. Protect your neighbors, right?" A sudden pang of guilt shot through me. Yeah, that was me alright. Stand up and leave was more like it.

I patted his shoulder. "You did good, Jim. Good work." I rose and looked around the group. They seemed to be waiting on words of encouragement, from me perhaps. I sighed and avoided all eye contact. "Ted, can I talk to you for a minute?" I asked, leaving the garage.

Ted followed and we stopped on the lawn between our homes. "What's up, bud?" he asked. I finally saw the fear in his eyes.

Where to start was the problem. "Alexis thinks maybe your gun jammed or something. She mentioned it didn't seemed like it went off at all." I tried to give him a small, reassuring smile. He pulled the gun from his pocket.

"I've never really shot this particular model." He paused, looking at the black weapon. His eyes came up to mine. "I've never actually shot a handgun before. I didn't know where the safety was. Still don't know." I took the gun and examined it closely.

"I think it's this lever back here." I flipped it forward and heard a loud snap. I reset the safety. The process reminded me I should examine the safety on my gun as well. "We should have covered that. My bad." I gave him the weapon back.

Silence reigned. I needed to ask Ted something else.

"You came pretty close to being shot today." He looked away and nodded. "I think when there's a lot of commotion like that, well, it's easy for things to get confusing. But you shouldn't just stand there, Ted. You need to find cover at a time like that." He rubbed his chin and stepped back.

"I swear to you Bill, I could hear those bullets go past. I could feel them they were so close. And I just froze. I didn't think I was dead, I just couldn't move. I won't even say I was scared. I just couldn't do... anything." A single tear slid down his face. I had never seen Ted cry in all the years I'd known him. I squeezed his shoulder.

"Ted, I wasn't here. I won't judge you. Heck, no one has said a word about me not being here. I'm just glad everyone's alive. But you need to be more careful." I turned and gazed at Winston's home. "I don't think there's any need for you to die protecting something Winston abandoned. He's probably not coming back you know. I don't think he'd want anyone to get killed in his absence." The voice was mine, but the words seemed foreign, forced. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Ted standing next to me, nodding.

# Chapter 14

Our group of seven sat solemnly in Ted's garage. The sun had just set. In three corners propane lanterns burned brightly. Those were the only bright spots tonight. We all nibbled at whatever food we could easily find. Thankfully, Alice got her grill going so at least we could boil some water to cook noodles. Appetites were small, so it didn't really matter.

Charles ended our long silence from his chair in the corner. "Think those hooligans will be back tonight, Bill?" I looked up and shrugged.

"Ted?" I asked. I'd missed the action after all.

Ted glanced up from his seat next to Jim and Alexis. He shrugged. "No idea. I don't know why they would, but I don't know that for sure." He stared from face to face. Jim looked calm, but he was the only one. Everyone else looked like they wanted to puke.

Alexis stood and stared at the dark night outside of the open garage. "Bill, you're back now. That gives us one more gun at least. That's good, right?" My eyes bore a hole in the garage floor. Crap, not this.

Slowly I brought my attention to the group. "I'm gone tomorrow morning. Back on the road to Milwaukee." I noticed a few stares and looks of disbelief, betrayal. "I only came back because I forgot my gun. That's all." I felt my stomach tie another loop around itself. "Milwaukee's my destination. I need to get there."

I expected an argument. Searching the faces of my friends I only found pity, maybe resentment, perhaps a little disappointment. But no one said a word. We sat quiet for the next hour. The silence was uncomfortable, at least for me. Ted finally came over and knelt next to me.

"I understand. I don't necessarily like it, but I understand, Bill. We all do." He patted my knee and went inside of the house. Alice nodded from her corner, as did the Johnson's. Alexis and Jim were caught in some sort of stare down. Finally, I saw Jim's eyebrows flash and Alexis nodded. She stood and smiled my direction.

"Bill, can you help me grab a couple things from my house? If we're going to be in the garage all night, Jim and I need a sweatshirt and some jeans." She extended her hand in my direction.

I smiled and rose. "Sure. I'm more than happy to help." As hard as leaving was on me, my neighbors and friends fully supported my decision. It made me feel good and decent again.

Grabbing one of Ted's lanterns, I illuminated the path for Alexis and me to her house. Once inside she went upstairs and turned towards me quickly. I stopped and stared.

"Bill," she started, "I need to talk to you about something."

"Sure. What is it, Alexis?" She seemed rational.

She thought for a minute before continuing. "What would it take for you to change your mind and stay here with us, in Woodbury?" Protection; she wanted another set of hands to ensure their safety.

"I need to go, Alexis. I need to find my family." I watched as she looked down briefly and shook her head. "Come on, Alexis. I've been honest about this all along. This shouldn't be a shock to you." Her gaze came back to meet mine.

"What do you need?" Her words sounded cold and precise.

"I'm not staying."

Anger flashed across her face. "Come on. Get over it. If you go out on the road you're dead within a week. A guy stopped by here earlier looking for Scott and Betty. He said all the roads south of here are covered with looters. You need to stay." My hand covered my mouth as I pondered her news.

"We don't know that for sure. It's just one guy with one opinion." Actually this was at least the second time I'd heard this news recently.

"Just stay. You'll live that way. And we can be better protected here. Ted and Charles are worthless in a fight. You and Jim could handle almost anything that comes along." She stepped closer. "You don't need to prove anything to anyone. I know you're a brave man. I know you'll make the right choice. Jim says we need you and I agree. So stay and live. Please?" She rubbed my arm as she finished. My face hardened.

"I'm going. That's my family. I need them as much as they need me. No discussion, Alexis." She ground her teeth and flailed her arms, flabbergasted.

"Wake up you moron. You can have whatever you want, whatever you need. Instead of a pointless death march, you'll be alive – with me by your side." I'd heard this speech before. Except then it was the _take me with you_ variety.

"No, again, no. I need Sharon and Jim needs you. Get it?" She smiled at me. She actually smiled in the middle of the heated conversation.

"You don't get it. Jim told me I was to do whatever it takes to convince you to stay and fight with us. Anything. You want more children? They're yours. I'll give them to you. Is that what it'll take?" Standing in our small circle of light, she stared intensely. "Jim wants to live and he wants me to live. It's that simple, Bill. It's not going to get better. What happened this morning is going to be our new way of life. So choose life." She sounded completely rational, and mostly calm. I thought for a moment.

"No. I told you before I'm not that guy. I can't; I won't. Period." I nodded and looked past her. "Now let's grab your stuff so we can get back over there." As I passed her in the hall, she grabbed my arm, spinning me back at her.

"Don't be stupid," she said slowly and sternly. "I will give you whatever you want, including life - yours and more – to stay. What more could you possibly ask for? That stupid wife of yours? Really? The one who walks all over you, every single day of your life? The one who's always looking for something better?" I reached out to stop her diatribe, but she tore her arm away. "Or those kids of yours? The ones who never, ever listen to you? Those brats that take up all your time and give you nothing in return?" She stared viciously deep into my soul. She had more.

"What? You don't think I know?" Alexis let out an evil laugh. "Right, Bill. I know just how wonderful your life really is. I know all about it. Every fight, every sarcastic hurtful thing Sharon has ever said. Every time you've spoken to those two devils and they ignored you." I stared at my neighbor, hurt. "Oh, I'm sorry. You didn't think I heard every time one of those two screamed at you? Told you how much they hated you?" She smirked. "I watch, Bill. I pay attention. When they left last month, I saw how they said goodbye to you. They hardly hugged you; Sharon avoided your kiss. You waved goodbye, like the good father you are, and not one of them waved back. No words, no wave, no nothing." Finishing, Alexis stepped closer.

My head spun so fast I couldn't put together a sentence. Not even a one-word retort. Everything she laid in front of me was true. Every last word. I tried to start again but couldn't find my voice. Slowly, she took my hands and raised them to her face, kissing them lightly.

"It'll be okay, Bill. I'll take care of you. And I promise I'll never treat you like she did, like they did. Never." With complete resoluteness, she gazed at me and nodded slowly. My heart shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. My life suddenly seemed worthless. Seemed, hell – it was worthless. I closed my eyes to collect my thoughts.

"What you say is mostly true, Alexis. Maybe I don't get back all that I give. Maybe I'm doing something wrong. Maybe I do need a new start." I paused, words caught in my throat. "But I need to try and fix this. For my family. That's all I have left in the world." Tears streaked my cheeks. Alexis's head slumped.

"You've got to be the biggest idiot in the world then, Bill." She looked up. "You could have anything here. Whatever you want, it's yours for the taking. Food, water, shelter, safety... me. But instead, you choose to go out on the road and die. Real smart. And what do we get in return? A death sentence, personally delivered by Bill Carlson. That's just great Bill. Just great." She leaned over, picked up the lantern and went to her bedroom. I heard her rummaging through a dresser.

I turned and somberly made my way out of Alexis's house, Alexis's life, and back to Ted's.

# Chapter 15

Early the following morning, when the sun was just giving light to the eastern sky, I sat alone in my living room, thinking. Alexis and Jim slept soundly in my bed. They agreed to come inside after the mosquitos got thick. Alexis would have preferred anywhere over my place. But Jim and I squared things up after I returned to Ted's, before Alexis came back. He got it; at least he said he understood.

I pondered my future. My new plan was to get on my bike and take Buddy and myself north to the Osceola bridge, some 35 miles north of where I sat this morning. From there I could hook into Highway 8 and take that east to Highway 51 in the center of Wisconsin. Continuing on south from there, I would have various options for my approach into Milwaukee.

According to my new calculations, Milwaukee was 350 miles away on my new route. If I made ten miles an hour on my bike and traveled 12 hours each day, I would be reunited with my family in three days; four tops. That is if my family was still in Milwaukee. But that's a chance I was willing to take. I needed them badly. Regardless of what Alexis said last night, I missed them more and more each passing day.

Once reunited, we could somehow make our way north to Bayfield. I still believed that was the best spot for all of us to ride out this storm. We'd be safe there, away from people, away from trouble. We'd make it somehow. Just exactly how, I wasn't so sure about this morning. But we'd do our best. At least we would all be together.

Before I could make my great escape, I needed to run a quick errand. I had to make my way over to the closest pharmacy and get some essential supplies for my neighbors. Ted had never made his way out to look for insulin. From his shaky appearance last night, I could tell he was in desperate need of some. I was sure they would still have insulin at the store. Jim needed an antibiotic. His wound looked sore, but not infected. Yet. A week or two of meds would ensure his full recovery. Thankfully he had found a stash of antidepressants in his back room a few days ago. I laughed; out of the woods with the possibility of killing himself, now others were trying to do the deed for him. How pointless this all seemed this morning.

The streets were quiet as I pedaled alone amongst houses filled with still sleeping residents. With any luck I'd be back in less than a half hour and most of the people would still be asleep. The morning heat didn't seem as harsh as the previous week had been. Still, I could feel the ever-present humidity found on most August days. Thus, it would be a carbon copy of the previous week. Clear, warm, and humid.

My brakes squeaked as I pulled in front of the drug store. As I had suspected, the front doors were smashed and tiny pieces of glass peppered the sidewalk in front of the brown brick building. Fortunately I saw no one guarding the front entry. Carefully I stepped through the shattered windows that once would have barred my entry at this early hour.

Inside, the store was dark. I paused, listening for footsteps or voices. Hearing none, I continued towards the rear of the store where the drugs were kept. I knew what I was looking for, so it should be a quick pull and run. That was my plan until I saw a lone man sitting on the pharmacy counter. He looked at me and smiled. I continued to stare, only at the gun in his hands. He wasn't the pharmacist, he wasn't the police, but it was obvious he was the man in charge.

"Good morning," he called out. "How can I help you today?" He smiled strangely at me. Like he was far too happy to be of assistance. I approached the counter cautiously as he slid behind.

"You must be the new pharmacist."

He chuckled. "Well, I'm the new drug dispensing agent. Some people call me the dealer, but that sounds so harsh." He laid his gun on the counter. "And what do you find yourself in need of today?" I didn't like the grin he gave me. It looked evil, cynical.

"I need some insulin, and some antibiotics. I've got a couple of neighbors in need." I tried to sound brave. I wasn't sure he saw me as a brave person.

"Got names for those drugs? I'm, ah, not the regular guy you know." There was that grin again.

"I know the one man who needs insulin said something about Humalog. I'm not exactly sure, but for a diabetic, anything's better than nothing. Maybe amoxicillin or penicillin for the other injury, something like that." I stepped closer and leaned on the counter. He gave me a leer. "Can I jump back there, maybe help you find it? Make it easier for both of us." He nodded and approached.

"Yeah, sure." He picked up his gun. "I've got a flashlight here. That'll help too. You got money?" He stared seriously. Money, I knew this would come up.

"I've got $100, that's all." I shrugged to show my innocence. "Will that do?" I could see him consider my offer.

"Insulin's been pretty popular these days. No one's asked for any antibiotics yet." He nodded slightly, checking me out further. "Sure, that'll do. Since it's for your neighbors and all. Yeah, you seem okay." I breathed a sigh of relief.

Within five minutes I was on my way back home with drugs in hand. I grabbed whatever he would let me of both medications. I pulled a bottle or two, and looked back at him. Until he told me to stop, I figured I was okay. I had four bottles of amoxicillin and many, many vials of Humalog. Not bad for $100.

I had also grabbed as much sterile gauze and hydrogen peroxide I could fit in the bag I found in the store. Jim needed it for his wound. And no telling what other injuries my six neighbors may have to endure in the coming future.

In my mind, I kept hearing Alexis' words from last night over and over. _You choose to go out on the road and die_. They bothered me this morning, a lot. Did journeying to find my family mean I would die? I didn't think so. I'd be ultra careful and have a gun at all times. Already I knew the roads would bring danger. I just planned on avoiding it at all costs. Still, her words haunted me. Maybe it was the expression on her face that startled me most. So cold and severe. Like she knew exactly what she was speaking about.

When I arrived back home, I saw Ted in his driveway, pacing. I pedaled right to him and handed him the bag of treasures. Peering inside, he smiled.

"Now that's a sight for sore eyes," he said, holding up a box of insulin. "Well done, sir, well done." He glanced over his shoulder towards his open garage door. Jim and Alexis had joined him. He stared back at me. "So today's the day you start your journey?" I couldn't tell if it was a question or a statement though. I nodded.

"Yeah, leaving in a little bit. Need to make as many miles as I can today." Stepping off my bike, I stretched. "Gonna head up through Stillwater and see if I can get across on the old lift-bridge. That won't be too much of a detour." Ted only half listened.

"Sounds like a good plan," he said. He stared down and continued. "Bill, I know you need to find your family. No one blames you for that." His eyes came up to mine. "I know Jim and Alexis wish you were staying. I'm afraid they don't see me and Charles as much help in this fight. I suppose I see their point. But I'll try and do better." Ted looked sad this morning.

I patted his shoulder. "Speaking of fights, I have an idea. I'm going to break open Winston's garage doors and leave mine up when I go. That way anyone can take whatever they need from his house. No more fighting over something like that. If more people come, just let them take what they want. Keep yourselves safe, but don't try to stop them. They'll leave." I saw a hint of acceptance in Ted's eyes. Good. "And you all need to grab whatever is worth taking, first. Leave the rest for whomever. Don't fight anyone over any of that crap. Get what you want and be done." Ted nodded his agreement.

I needed a few last items from home. Mostly I wanted to grab the rest of the ammunition on my dining room table. The gun was in my pocket now. I wouldn't make that same mistake ever again. Knowing exactly where the gun was would be my salvation, my safety.

When I came back out of my house I ran to Ted's shed and grabbed his ax. I walked kitty corner across the street to Winston's place. Raising the ax, I hammered his garage door handle off and lifted the door open. Next I went to his house door, inside the garage, and repeated the process. Inside his home the temperature was cool. Though I should have felt like a thief, I knew I was doing my remaining neighbors a favor. Maybe even a life saving favor at that.

I came back to Ted's and began my goodbyes. Charlotte and Alice hugged me tightly, tears filling their eyes. Charles shook my hand but refused to look me in the face. He gave me a simple "good luck" and released my hand. Jim actually smiled at me.

"Hey, be safe out there, Bill. Real safe." He stood and took my hand. "Maybe someday you'll come back; you, Sharon, and the kids. Maybe someday, someday soon, everything will get back to normal. Maybe." What Jim did next surprised the heck out of me. He hugged me; he actually hugged me. I had never known Jim to be much of a touchy feely kind of person. But this morning, when I could use it most, he gave me the human touch I so desired.

Glancing around, I noticed Alexis missing from the group. Jim saw me look for the missing member.

"She's over at the house. There were a couple things she wanted to grab. Go say goodbye. She's not that upset I don't think." Jim accepted my departure with grace. Perhaps Alexis would as well.

Crossing the street one last time, I felt the sun intensifying. It was going to be another hot day. If we were lucky, rain might come soon and break this hot spell. I laughed to myself realizing just how dependent we had all become on technology for our every need. Once upon a time, like a month ago, I would have just flipped on the TV or radio to check the weather. Easy process. Now, we had no way to know if the heat would continue unabated for weeks, or if a monster cold front was on our doorstep. All we could do was watch the skies and hope for at least 30 minutes warning. And everyone was in the same boat, everywhere it seemed.

Stepping inside Jim's house I called out. "Alexis, are you in here?" I slowly ascended eight grey-carpeted steps to their living room. No response. "Alexis," I called a little louder. Stepping into their kitchen I spied her sitting on their back deck.

Alexis sat on a folding lawn chair, stoically. Staring at the park beyond her backyard, her attention never wavered. She refused to look at me. Only after a long pause did I see her lift a cigarette to her mouth and take a slow drag. When she finally exhaled, I watched the smoke drift aimlessly in the humid air.

"I didn't know you smoked." I tried to sound cheerful and hopeful for her. It didn't work. She continued to stare away, and took another drag. Finally after another long exhale she turned her head to me. I repeated myself. "Alexis, I didn't know you smoked." Her eyes weren't sad, as I had expected. They were more upset.

"I didn't know you gave a damn anymore." Slowly she turned her head, took another drag, and continued her stare into the green woods.

I turned and left. There was nothing I could say. Just as I reached the top of her staircase, I spoke one last time. "Goodbye Alexis." I wanted to say more. But I couldn't. I slumped across the street to my bike and called for Buddy. With him by my side, I sadly left my neighbors, one last time.

# Chapter 16

My legs were stiff for the first half hour. The first town on my northern route was Stillwater, a quaint river town with trendy shops and all sorts of river traffic. The area was quite well-to-do and a lot of expensive mansions lie spotted about the area. I thought these would be safe havens for the rich. They had their own little fortresses. Compounds to keep the good inside, and the bad out. It took 45 minutes before I started to see the familiar landmarks telling me I was almost to the city limits.

Dark, ominous pillars of smoke rose in the distance. If I had to guess, I would say they were five miles north of my current position. But what was on fire? It was too far away to be in the Stillwater city limits. There wasn't much out there except for homes and several small businesses. I coasted downhill the last half mile to the southern edge of the city. A roadblock guarded this entry into town, and a police officer signaled for me to stop. The young man smiled as I obeyed his warning.

"Unless you're a Stillwater resident, no admittance sir." His nametag said Harms. Officer Harms certainly looked fairly new at his job to me.

"I'm just passing through. On my way to Central Wisconsin." He nodded as I spoke somewhat winded from my bike ride thus far.

"I'm sorry sir. Orders are to only let city residents in this way. If you go back up the hill there are several roads that go around us, and you can meet up with the highway within four miles or so." I was familiar with the route he suggested. I just didn't want to have to peddle back up the steep incline I had just descended. It would be much easier, and faster, for me to just go straight.

"I was hoping to cross on the lift bridge." It was a half-truth. I could cross at the bridge in downtown if I wanted. My real route would take me up to Osceola to cross the St. Croix River. The hill into Wisconsin was much more gradual at Osceola.

He shook his head and smiled. "Sorry. My orders say if you want to get in, it has to say Stillwater on your driver's license. You understand, right?" Yeah, I got it.

"Sure." I didn't want trouble less than an hour into my trip. There was plenty of time ahead for that. "What do you know about the fires north of town? What's burning?" Harms' lost his smile.

"There's some residences out there that are on fire. They're too far out for us to protect. It seems a group of marauders have made their way up the river and are looking for food and shelter." His lips went sideways as he thought. "I guess words were exchanged between the residents and the troublemakers. Things got heated, shots were exchanged, and then the bandits started setting fire to some of the houses. I suppose they thought if those people wouldn't share, they'd be like the rest of the people. Make them go without." He looked at his feet. "Started a few days ago. I think the group has moved on up the river more. Damage is done, though. Can't get fire trucks out there. They don't run. It's a shame."

"Yeah, trouble has found its way to Woodbury, too. I just came from there. People are breaking into homes looking for food and supplies. Heard a gunfight several nights ago. I'm afraid the bad side of St. Paul is moving out already." We stared at each other. I wondered what else he knew.

"That's why they figure here, if we can keep it to just the town's residents, we can stay safe. There are about 20 of us spread around the perimeter. We're on all the main roads. If we're lucky, we can hold out until we can get the power back on." It sounded like Harms wanted me to confirm his thoughts. He needed Ted, not me at this point.

"Have you heard anything from anywhere else?"

Harms' face lit up. "I had some people come by from over east of Eau Claire the other day. They were looking for their parents just northwest of here. They said it's the same over there as it is here." He looked like he just remembered more. "Oh, and they said they had some people come through on some old motorcycles, ones that still ran. I can't remember where they said those folks had come from. Either southern Wisconsin or northern Illinois. Anyway, sounds like it's the same down that way too. No power. No running cars. No cell service, no landlines, no nothing. I guess Chicago is a mess already." Officer Harms was not helping me feel better about the state of things elsewhere. Perhaps Ted was right. Perhaps the whole country was in the same boat.

Buddy started whining. I looked behind us; more people were approaching the checkpoint. It was time to move along and begin my hilly reroute around Stillwater.

"Well, thank you, officer. Good luck." I tried to sound positive.

He smiled back. "Good luck to you too sir. Safe travels. Hope you have some type of protection. Word is there are road bandits out there. They'll take everything from you if given the chance." I cringed; Harms was a real fount of positivity.

Pedaling back uphill to go around the western side of Stillwater was just as difficult as I thought it would be. The first mile was all up, every last inch of it. After that, it leveled out for quite a while, maybe two miles, but shortly thereafter more hills rose in my path. Four days of up and down would make me a tired pup when I finally got to Milwaukee. I was glad I kept myself in decent shape.

With another half hour of steady pedaling, I was back on the main highway leading north out of Stillwater. A half hour lost. I began to wonder just how many of these detours I would find. Would every town be on lockdown? I had a number of these little places to go through on my journey. This could double my time on the road. I wasn't keen on that idea.

I had forgotten how hilly it was on the north side of Stillwater. For some reason it seemed like I was always pedaling uphill. Only occasionally did I coast down a small incline. Almost immediately I would be pedaling after coasting. If I ever did come back it would be mostly downhill. I laughed at myself. I was just being lazy. I rose on the pedals and powered up the next steep hill. Buddy trotted effortlessly next to me, barely breathing hard.

I stopped as I peaked the summit of my latest Everest. The scene I encountered took my breath away. From my vantage point I could see three fires burning brightly. The closest was a mere 200 yards to the north. The furthest one had to be at least a mile away, but I could see the rising flames over the treetops. This was worse than I ever could have imagined.

None of the homes ablaze were on the road I was traveling. I could tell they all lie several hundred yards down some side streets. The closet home burned freely with no apparent help anywhere in sight. This couldn't be a blaze set several days ago; this had to be new, that morning sometime. I wondered how many more homes had already burned to the ground and were in some form of smolder. We were nineteen days into this new world, and things were far worse then I had ever believed they might get in this country.

I rode solemnly by the first fire, some 300 yards down a side road, east of the main highway. I thought for a moment of going and offering assistance. But what good would that do? Most likely these people no longer had any water source to put out the flames. What would I do if I came across a group of road bandits, as Officer Harms had called them? They would just take my supplies and leave me for dead. I thought of Alexis. Maybe I should have brought her with. Perhaps I should have stayed. I sighed; it was too late to go back.

The second fire was closer to the highway, a mere 50 yards off the main road. I could feel the heat from the fire as I slowed, and sadly looked at the once expansive dwelling. I didn't see anyone attempting to put out the fire. I didn't see anyone around at all. It was like the occupants took their lumps and abandoned the property once the flames began. It was an odd scene to absorb. All I could hear was the crackling of the fire. I had expected calls for help. But fire was the only thing I saw, felt and heard. I wondered how long it would burn before extinguishing itself. I wasn't going to stick around to find out.

Before I came to the scene of the third blaze, I biked past two previously burnt out homes. They both lay close to the current road I traveled. The first one was still smoldering; the second was done with any flames or smoke. The air smelled of fresh ash. I noticed an older man staring at the rubble. I got off my bike and went over to offer any assistance I could. Whatever that meant.

"Lived here 30 years," he started, without looking up. "Burned to the ground four days ago. Quit smoldering yesterday. Everything's gone. Thirty years worth, gone in two, maybe three hours." I looked closer at the man. He wasn't crying, he wasn't angry. He just looked sad. "All because I told them to beat it. Didn't want to share my house and food with a bunch of hooligans. Just wanted to be left alone." He peered at me and sighed. "Now it's gone." I looked back at the piles of charred remains. Nothing of value appeared to be left.

"How many were there?" I couldn't think of anything else to ask or say. Somehow, _I'm sorry_ just didn't seem like enough.

"Three. Three stupid punks. And they burned my place to the ground. What am I supposed to do now if my grandkids show up looking for shelter?" Buddy sat next to the man offering his head for rubbing. The man seemed to find some happiness with my black companion. Buddy enjoyed the attention.

"I got no ideas anymore. Fresh out." I looked back at my gear some 20 yards away on the road. "I'm getting away where trash like this won't bother me. Trash being those young punks." I wished I had magical words to make this fellow happy, but none came. A huge pang of emptiness ran through my soul. For the first time in 19 days, I felt as if I were staring into the awful abyss of my future. Bare and bleak, filled with nothingness.

I turned and left without another word. Buddy followed, and we got back on the road. I had lost all feeling. I didn't feel sad or mad or hurt or sorry or torn. I felt nothing. And nothing is the emptiest feeling when you're all alone.

# Chapter 17

I couldn't shake the empty feeling for quite a while. This was more stark and harsh than I had expected. The grim reality of the situation set deep inside my mind. They say despair is something that you can never describe until you experience it completely. Well, I had stared despair in the face and I still couldn't tell you what it looked like.

I began to see more people on the road the further north I went. Well, some were on the road. Traveling somewhere the same as me. Others were just outside, on their lawns or just on the side of the road. Some stood, some sat in lawn chairs, some just sat on the bare ground. We saw each other, we made actual eye contact. But little was said in the way of words. Some nodded their heads at me, and I returned their greetings. Others just stared as Buddy and I slowly passed. A few didn't look up at all. It was as if life was passing by and they cared not to see it any longer. Almost like they were waiting for something else, perhaps death.

Osceola was still some 18 miles to the north. On bike it would take a couple of hours to get there with the hills and the carrier full of supplies attached to the rear. I noticed some of the people staring at my carrier. To strangers, it must have seemed like I was flaunting my cache of goods, showing everyone just how much I had compared to the very little they had left. I hoped that carrier wouldn't be the death of me. And I don't mean figuratively.

A woman about my age and her two young daughters walked down the center of the road ahead of me. I slowed to have some human interaction with what I hoped was a reasonable person. I managed to stop just in front of them. The girls were instantly attracted to Buddy. The woman smiled at me cautiously.

"Where are you headed, sir?" She spoke in a quiet shy voice. She looked me in the eye but only briefly. She looked at Buddy quickly as her daughters giggled from his wet kisses.

"On my way to Stevens Point." She looked at me uncertain. "In central Wisconsin."

Finally recognition crossed her face and she smiled. "We are walking up to town to see if they have anything for sale yet." She nodded at her girls as she spoke. "Last time we went there everything was still closed. But one of my neighbors said she thought some places were open now. At least that's what she had heard."

My stomach sank. I wondered if price gouging had hit this serene area. "I hope you brought some cash with you. Back in Woodbury things were getting out of hand already. I paid $60 for two gallons of water and some canned goods a few weeks ago." I expected her to be shocked; she smiled again.

"Oh yes, caveat emptor, buyer beware. And I don't mean that in the sense of the quality of the goods. I'm sure the prices will be steep." She looked unaffected by the news I gave her. "We'll just get what we can, and the rest we put in God's hands." I could only nod. She had the right attitude at least.

"Perhaps I can walk you into town then, if you don't mind that is." I was trying to be polite. A single woman with two small children weren't safe on the road any more in my mind. She nodded.

"That would be nice. I'm Joan." She reached out and shook my hand.

"Bill. And the black furry one is Buddy." Buddy had taken his spot between the two small girls.

We walked and talked for the next twenty minutes. Joan told me that she and the girls lived out here with her parents. She and her husband had divorced several years back, and she couldn't make it on her own. Her parents offered free rent, so she accepted. Seemed reasonable to me. They loved the simple life here in the country. The girls could play outside with limited worries, they had nice neighbors and everyone watched out for one another. I wondered if she had heard of the trouble just south of here, so I brought it up carefully.

She nodded. "Yes. We've taken in two families in our area. So far, mostly destruction of property. I haven't heard of any fatalities yet." She looked at her girls walking with Buddy ahead of us. She wanted them left out of this conversation. "I'm aware of what's going on out here. We all are. For now we're being very careful and sticking to home as much as possible. Our neighborhood is fairly secluded, so hopefully trouble will pass us by." She looked up at me with her pretty pale blue eyes. Joan was a very nice woman and it showed.

As we walked along chatting about nothing in particular I wondered if Joan was too carefree, too casual, given these times. She seemed happy and playful. She spoke to her daughters in the sweetest of ways. This was just another day in adventureland for them. It suddenly dawned on me that perhaps I had become too cynical, too dark, and so quickly at that. I was always the one with the positive attitude. I was the one rallying the troops. I felt ashamed.

Marine on St. Croix is a sleepy little spot in the road. A piece of Americana that time has mostly passed by. As we approached, I was taken by its simple beauty and quiet charm. All seemed well in this tiny little burg today. Maybe Joan was on the right path, a path I needed to get back onto as soon as I could. We stopped and looked at the two-block village.

Joan smiled. "Oh good. It looks like the drug store is opened again. Excellent." She put a hand on each girls shoulder. "Now we can get Amelia's medicine and a treat for all of us girls." They squealed with glee. I started to feel better about things. Joan leaned over and gave me a quick peck on the cheek. "Thank you for your company and kindness, Bill. You are a true gentleman in a time when that seems to be a dying trait." She smiled tenderly at me. "Safe travels. I hope you find your wife and family again someday soon." I could tell her words were genuine. I felt much better, much better, like my regular self.

"Take care, Joan and girls." I looked down at the young pair as they bid their farewells to Buddy. He had received some good attention this last twenty minutes, much better attention than I had given him in the past three weeks. I knew Buddy missed the kids as much as I did, maybe more.

I jumped back on my bike and began pedaling up the next hill leading out of this peaceful place. I had to call for Buddy; he wanted to follow the others into town. Begrudgingly he came. Sorry Buddy. The hill was steep and hard; it took my full attention to stay at pedaling. It wasn't until the crest of the hill I was able to relax again and think of Joan. She was a good person. I was glad I had stopped and walked into town with her and the girls. It was what I needed to renew my spirits that were so depleted after seeing the fires south of their position.

The road was now empty of travelers. I was again a solitary figure in a wide-open and greatly changed world. I wondered how many Joan's I would find on the road to Milwaukee? Would it be that every time my spirits dipped I would come across someone as wonderful? Or would the road be filled with mostly heartache and despair? It wasn't even noon and I had already been through the full gambit of emotions. I expected a lot of raw emotion on the road. Currently, as I looked ahead, I saw nothing though. Just open road, miles of open road.

Osceola was within ten miles. I wanted to be through there and well into Wisconsin by 1 o'clock. I had a schedule in mind and wanted to stick as close as I could to it. God willing, I would. I began to wonder what issues I might find in Osceola. Had they already sealed the town off as well? I hoped not. The next crossing was up in Taylors Falls. That was another eight miles beyond my current destination. I wanted to get into Wisconsin and its open countryside as soon as I could. Plus, Taylors Falls would have more people. It lies on a busier highway. I needed to stay as much off the radar as possible. Thus, Osceola was the logical spot for me to cross.

Before we got another mile down the deserted road, Buddy spotted our next trouble. I saw it, too, but Buddy seemed to find the situation more bothersome than me. Two older cars were stopped in the middle of the road ahead. Cars that still might run, if they were old enough. All doors on both cars stood open. I thought about going around but were no side roads available. We'd just have to get by as quickly as we could. I hoped it wasn't a trap of some type. As we got even with the vehicles I saw a first. A dead man lay on the road between the idle carriers. He was shot in the head. It was the first dead soul I had witnessed out here. I pedaled on silently. Buddy sensed my mood and followed without incident.

# Chapter 18

I couldn't shake the sight of the dead man from my mind. I wanted to stop to investigate, but a small voice inside my head kept me moving. It didn't feel right, but onward I pushed. The man was dead, plain as day. He'd been dead for several days, maybe even a week. I could offer no assistance in a situation where nothing would help. So I moved on. I hoped it would be the last dead person I would come across. I knew better, but I still had hope.

The road that leads from Minnesota to Osceola is approximately a mile and a half long. It snakes downhill ever so slightly until you cross the St. Croix River and then sharply, but not too steeply, rises and then enters the small town of Osceola. If you looked at it from above, it is a gentle sweeping 'S'. I chose this route because it was the least steep and least traveled between Hudson and St. Croix/Taylors Falls. I stopped at the turn and wondered how well it was guarded on the opposite side. I needed to get through at this spot.

Buddy and I slowly descended into the river valley. This August summer day was beautiful, and the landscape surrounding me was just as breathtaking as could be. I had never crossed here on a bicycle, only in a car going 60 miles per hour. I saw a bald eagle circling over the river looking for lunch. It reminded me I needed to stop after I cleared Osceola and take in some food. With the emotions of the day, I didn't notice any appetite. I looked at my old, wind-up pocket watch. It was almost 1 o'clock, right on time.

I reached the bottom of my descent and looked up towards the bluffs of the city some 300 yards in front of my position. I didn't see a soul. I doubted that would last much longer. I started to pedal harder as the steep incline took hold of my forward progress. My speed slowed to a crawl as I neared the top. I was so focused on pedaling and looking down, breathing hard, I didn't see the patrol some ten yards in front of me. Finally one called for me to stop. My heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice. I looked up; he and his two companions were smiling.

"If we had a nickel for every fool that tried to pedal up that hill in the past few weeks, we'd be rich men." They enjoyed a group chuckle at my expense. I was too winded to join. "And every last Tom, Dick and Sally looks just like you mister. Beet red and all out of breath. You know, if you walk your bike up the last little ways, it ain't nearly as bad?" No, I didn't know this tidbit, but thanks.

"Thanks. Just passing through, okay?" I looked for their acceptance. They were nonresponsive for the most part. They seemed to like seeing a full-grown man out of breath. Demons.

"That's fine. Ten dollars." I reached into my pocket for some cash. The lead joker laughed again. "Sheez, just kidding. We ain't charging you to ride through here. We're just on post to keep those damn road bandits out." So that was it. The groups of gutter trash wandering the highways and byways of the Midwest now had a name – road bandits. "You don't exactly look like much trouble. No offense." He smiled broadly at me.

"None taken," I was able to get out between slow deep breaths.

"Here, I'll push your gear into town. Give you a little break." He grabbed the bike with carrier attached and easily moved it forward. I followed behind more than just a little tired. I needed lunch sooner rather than later. "Great dog by the way. I love Labs. Man's best and ultimate friend." Buddy liked the attention from the new stranger. I was beginning to worry that Buddy might not provide the protection I desired. He might be just a little too friendly.

The large gentle leader, John, pushed my equipment well into town. He then turned, wished me well, and went back to join his friends on post. Compared to my experience in Stillwater earlier in the day, Osceola was, so far, a very friendly place.

I spied a small diner on the right side of the road leading out of town. Maybe, just this once I would pay for a quick meal instead of digging my supplies out of the carrier. I'd be lost in the middle of empty Wisconsin farmland this evening. There'd be no restaurants or diners there. It was an easy choice in my mind. Well, that and the fact my heart was still pounding in my ears from the steep ride into town. I went inside and a familiar bell jingled over the door. A friendly face greeted my arrival.

"Take a seat anywhere. We aren't too busy this afternoon." Melody, according to her nametag, was a friendly gal. She looked about 30 and maybe 30 pounds overweight. Probably too many diner meals in her diet. I wondered what they had available. She offered no menu but instead gave me some choices.

"Bobby has the grill going out back, and he has a pot of vegetable beef soup if you'd like some. Otherwise he can cook you up a burger or a hotdog." She looked over the counter at her supplies. "Fries are all gone, but I see we got some chips left. Maybe even a pickle or two." She ended her list and looked at me for my order. I had a big question to begin.

"How much will all this cost me Melody?" I shrugged. "I can only afford so much, and I got to know if I'm just ordering a glass of water for $20 or if I'm getting lunch for all that." She smiled and shook her head.

"Well, lunch normally runs about $8. If you can afford that, it's $8. If you can't, you can just have it for free. The food is going to go bad eventually. So I'd rather have you eat it and enjoy a meal rather than toss it out. So you decide. I'll take your word if you can't afford it." She looked at me pleased. She was doing a public service for her community and she was proud of it. I almost choked up.

"I can afford $8, Mel. I'll probably give you $20 so you can have a nice tip." She nodded. We were on the same page. Both of us were humans trying to be nice to other humans in a world where humanity seemed to be slowly slipping away. "I'll have a hot dog and some chips. And a bowl of soup if that's okay." She turned to put my order in with Bobby.

"Water okay? Otherwise I got some old coffee, but it's been on the camp stove most of the morning so it might be a little thick if you know what I mean." She smiled and I smiled back.

"Water's fine. And thank you, Melody." I meant that thank you, she knew it too.

I relaxed for over an hour in Bobby and Mel's company. We exchanged stories of the world outside of these city limits. So far there'd been no trouble here. But there had been small amounts of trouble in each direction out of town. A week or so ago, road bandits blocked the entrance to the west road into Osceola (the one I had just come across). Finally a group of well-armed citizens chased the bandits away. Only a few shots had been fired, and no blood was spilled in that exchange.

A few days later, there was an incident two miles south of town just off the main road coming up from Hudson. No one was sure what exactly had taken place, but a shootout occurred in a barn or near the barn. It just depended on who you got your story from, it seemed. Anyway, five people were dead, and a barn full of cattle were missing. Food, one of the most basic human needs.

Then just two days ago there was trouble on the east road into town. A large group of people wanted to come into Osceola and settle here. They were told no. They left without discussion and all seemed well. But that same evening they came back and stormed the road post. Three outsiders and two townsfolk were dead when it was over. The remaining group of outsiders was routed by a number of concerned citizens and chased miles to the east. They hoped they'd seen the last of that group.

From what I could tell, it had been mostly quiet to the north. Neither Bobby nor Melody could recall any recent incidents that direction. That was good since that was the direction I was headed. Melody gave Buddy several pieces of dried toast as I settled my bill. I handed Bobby a crisp twenty-dollar bill and told him they should split the tip. Both smiled nicely at my gesture. They had lived up to their end of the bargain, so I was more than happy to fulfill my promise.

The last thing they warned me about was something that had been on my mind most of the morning, at least since Stillwater. They told me to steer clear of Highway 8. It was a busy road that basically sliced Wisconsin in two from west to east. Word had it that it was heavily traveled nowadays, and the more foot traffic it carried the more tempting it would be for every road bandit in the area to patrol. Easy money, easy food, easy everything life had to offer. It seemed that when things got bad, the bad got thick and lazy. This bothered me as I mounted my bike again. Highway 8 was to be my expressway through Wisconsin. Now I'd have to come up with a new alternative.

I was actually sad to leave Osceola. It was an oasis of sanity in an ever increasingly insane world. Of all the things I had gone through, Osceola and Joan had been the bright spots thus far. The bleak parts had been Stillwater and the fires; and of course, Alexis. My thought strayed back to Alexis. I wondered if she was safe. I wondered if she had forgiven me; if she was still so upset.

The road flattened out considerably north of Osceola. Now it was just a leisurely pedal through vast open Wisconsin farmlands. And mostly flat farmland at that. I knew once I started getting away from the river valley my ride would be easier. Gone were the ups and downs created by thousands of years of water erosion. Now I rode on flat fertile lands where the glaciers had scraped away most signs of any terrain. Corn was the most abundant sight. Miles and miles of mostly field corn. Corn that may never be harvested. This year at least.

I rode alone for over an hour at an easy pace. If I pushed hard I could get to Ladysmith, in central Wisconsin, by dark. Maybe I could find real shelter there tonight, like a hotel room or something. By tomorrow night I would be in Stevens Point. That was a town much larger than Ladysmith. I was sure I could find somewhere to stay in Point, as the locals like to call it. From there Milwaukee was a mere 150 miles south, another hard day on the bike. But I'd be with my family again. If they'd stayed put at Sharon's parents' house in Menomonee Falls.

I paused on a small incline at about 2:30 in the afternoon. I took a short break to give Buddy a quick sip of water and take a splash myself. I was making good progress. I kept reminding myself to just stay at it and everything would be just fine. I really believed it that afternoon. Gone were the negative feelings from the morning. The positive, self-assured Bill was at the helm. I looked behind me and focused on a dot some miles back.

Another bike seemed to be coming on the same road I was traveling. I couldn't tell if it was one or two, but I was sure it wasn't a group of people. Still, there was another rider within sight of me. I got back on my bike and began pedaling hard again. I needed to stay ahead of the unidentified potential problem that now dogged me. I would ride hard for 20 minutes and then check again. Hopefully the problem would be gone.

After 25 minutes of hard work I stopped and looked behind on the road again. I had fought off the urge to keep checking behind during my race. I felt that would be a waste of energy. At first, the road appeared to be clear. Whoever, or whatever was following Buddy and me, seemed to be gone. I studied the road intently for another minute. Then the lone rider reappeared. He or she was closer now. Whatever lead I had 25 minutes ago had been cut in half, maybe more. I swore at myself. I should have taken a side road when I had the chance earlier. Now the rider could stay in sight of me until he or she finally caught up. I jumped back on my bike and pedaled hard, much harder than I had pressed myself so far. I wanted to beat my chaser to Highway 8. I knew there were several routes I could take once I crossed over that stretch of road and maybe, just maybe I could lose them there.

It took only ten minutes for my pursuer to get within earshot of me. I refused to look back. If I was going to be over taken it would be while I was looking forward, never behind. I pedaled feverishly towards my goal. Finally, I heard my road nemesis calling out to me.

"Dude, wait up! I mean come on dude, just frickin' wait up!" I stopped, he was a mere twenty yards back. Time for me to face the music. I reached in my carrier for my gun. It was time for me to make my stand.

# Chapter 19

I pulled my gun out and pointed it at my attacker. I spoke loudly. "I'm not giving up without a fight. So prepare to eat some lead, junior." I noticed my hand shaking.

The young man stopped five yards away. He held his hands up in mock surrender. "Dude, what the frack? Put that thing away. I come in peace, Robocop." He mixed up his movie references as I stared him down. He looked less menacing than I had assumed he would. "I just want someone to ride with man. Don't get all puffed chest on me." He appeared to be 20 or younger, and a little shorter and at least twenty pounds lighter than me. No wonder he could pedal so fast. He pushed back his longish brown hair, barely winded from catching me.

"Why you so interested in catching up to me? Planning on taking my stuff and leaving me for dead?" I had his full attention with the gun pointed at him. He looked scared, just not scared enough for my liking. "You know I'm not stupid. I know how you guys operate."

He gazed to each side and raised his hands further in frustration. "Dude, if you're looking for trouble shouldn't you be looking ahead instead of behind? I mean that's just all screwed up." He lowered his hands slightly, the gun stayed up. "And why would I call out for you if I was gonna rob you? Don't be stupid man." Now his hands were at his sides; he looked at me passively, no harm intended. I lowered the gun slightly.

"What do you want? What's your name?" I spoke loud and with authority so he would know I wasn't a push over.

"Jake. Jake Bellsing. I'm from Balsam Lake just up the road." I eased my stance a little, he seemed friendly. "I've been riding alone for four days dude. I just want someone to ride with, to talk to. That's all." He looked at the road behind then back at me. "But if you're gonna be king jerk about it, forget it. Just let me pass." He seemed more disgusted than anything else. Disgusted with me, my attitude in general. I shrugged slightly.

"I'm sorry Jake. I've just been on guard so much all day. A lot of crap out here. I didn't know." He nodded his acceptance of my lame apology. He smiled a big smile finally.

"So, you got any smokes, dude? I could really use one."

Dude was not my favorite term in the English language. I set him straight. "Call me Bill and, no, I don't smoke. Sorry." He shrugged and dug in an inside pocket in the jacket tied around his waste. Out came a pack of cigarettes. I looked at him questioningly.

"Hey," he started. "I just figured if you had any I'd bum a few off you so I could make mine last. No offense dude, Bill." Jake certainly was an odd character. I turned and put the gun away.

"None taken." I looked back at him. "Where you been the last four days?"

He laughed slightly as he took a huge drag from the cigarette in his right hand. "I was in Ankeny, in Iowa." I nodded. I knew where Ankeny was. "Visiting my girlfriend down there. I drove down in my dad's car about four weeks ago. And then all this happened." He waved his hand at the surrounding countryside. I got his point. "Well, I stayed put for a while. Figured the power would come back on. Plus her parents were missing. They'd been out visiting when it happened." He strolled over and took a comfortable seat in the ditch nearby. "After three plus weeks alone with her, Margo, I had to split. She was driving me nuts man. One hundred percent crazy she is." He nodded like I knew exactly what he was saying.

"So you just left her alone down there? Margo?" His story already didn't make sense.

He shook his head and frowned. "No dude. I ain't like that. We rode bikes to her grandma's just north of town a week ago. I stayed for another day or two and then split for home. I gave her some line about needing to get home and help my old man with farming." Okay, this made a little more sense. "I just didn't want to spend another minute with old Margo, that's all." He nodded, I nodded; we understood each other.

"So Jake, what route did you take?" This would tell me if his story was on the up and up. He smiled.

"Right up I-35 dude." He used his right hand to illustrate the straight route. "Iowa was easy. Almost boring. No one out really. Minnesota, well, it started to get dicey there." He took the last drag off his smoke and put it out. "First night I stayed with an old couple in Albert Lea. Just north of the border." Again I nodded. I had lived in Minnesota all my adult life. "They were cool. Fed me, gave me a soft bed. The old man even gave me an extra pack of smokes. It was cool." He thought of something and paused. Quickly he came back to his story.

"Second day I made it to Bloomington. You know, where the Mall of America is." He looked at me to see if I was following his path.

"Jake, I live in St. Paul. I know all the places you're talking about."

"Cool. Cool." Something seemed to catch his interest in the corn off to the west. I looked over; it was a small deer. "Well, it was getting interesting before Bloomington. But by the time I got there I had real concerns for my safety dude. I mean gunshots. A lot of gunshots. And the road warriors, dude. They were thick. Like flies. I knew I had to get off the freeway and get through the Cities on side streets. That took two more days."

"They're calling them road bandits up here now. Not that it makes a difference, I imagine it's the same thing."

He grinned. "Yeah, call them road demons for all I care. They're crap man, all of them. I saw them take a couple off their bikes and beat them to a pulp. And ya know the funny part?" I had no idea what was coming next. He shook his head slightly. "They didn't take a thing from them. It was just like they wanted practice on beating people. It was sick, man. Just so wrong." He shuddered and looked away. This kid had seen a lot in four days on the road.

"So you made it through the Twin Cities alive. What then Jake?" I was actually very interested to hear what else he had witnessed on the road. It would give me a barometer to gauge the rest of my travels.

"Barely alive, dude. I got shot at so many times I lost count. I swear, if I'd had a backpack they would have killed me for it. The Cities are a real hellhole, you know. At least now they are." I nodded for him to continue. "So I squirted out of the north side and made it for the river. Headed towards Stillwater. Bastards wouldn't let me through. I had to go around and that's a hilly ride."

I smiled and nodded. "Same route. See the fires north of town?"

His eyes opened wide. "Man, that was sick. Who burns down all these places just cuz they won't give you any food, right? And Marine on St. Croix. That was so wrong." I frowned. I was just through there earlier. Everything was fine.

"What about Marine on St. Croix, Jake?" I started to worry.

"Are you kidding me dude? It was a hellhole. Just as bad as the Cities. Huge blaze going, guns going off everywhere. There had to be a group of at least a dozen of those road pukes there."

My stomach sank. "I was just through there, Jake. Maybe an hour before you. Maybe two. Everything was fine. It looked untouched. I met a woman there. She was nice, very sweet." I thought of Joan and her young daughters. I had never even asked their names.

"Well it wasn't like that when I went through. That general store by the road? It was blazing, man. Four alarm fire." Jake waved his arms for some sort of dramatic effect. I felt ill. "I got shot at four times as I rode by. That's the hardest I pedaled the whole trip dude." He saw the concern on my face. "You okay Bill?"

I wasn't. "No, not at all. I met a woman there I said. Just south of there actually. Walked into town with them." I wanted to cry. Things were getting so bad. Jake looked closely at my face.

"A hottie in a blue sundress? With short curly red hair and big ta-tas?" I looked at him strangely. "Two little girls, both with long red hair?" My eyebrows rose. He described them perfectly; though I didn't appreciate the comment on Joan's size... well, whatever. "They're fine man. I passed them right before I got into town. They were running back south, out of town. They all looked scared, man. She warned me to go around if I could." He shrugged and looked down. "I should have listened. That was a tough scene to swallow." I felt a little better. Hopefully Joan and her girls were safe and sound buried deep in her parent's place. Jake looked at me funny. "Should have brought her along dude. She could have kept you warm at night. You know what I mean, right?" He smiled a silly grin my way.

I waved him off. "Be decent Jake. She had family in the area. Plus, those two little girls. She was staying put." I looked to see Buddy reappear from the cornfield on our east. Jake smiled and called for the dog.

"Come here buddy, come here pal." Buddy came and got immediate attention from Jake. Jake smiled and rubbed his cowl. He looked up at me. "Sweet dog dude, yours?" I nodded. "What's his name?"

I smiled again, this was quite a day. "Believe it or not, Buddy."

Jake laughed. I guess I had a companion for a while.

# Chapter 20

Jake rose from the ground and went over to my carrier casually. I had nothing to hide so he could dig through it all he wanted.

"Got a tire pump in here, dude?" He began digging through the vast assortment of items I had stored. He used both hands to get to the bottom. "You got everything else in here, so there must be a tire pump." I looked over his shoulder.

"Toward the bottom, right in the middle." I even pointed, like that really helped. "What for?"

He held up his prize, my pump. He smiled and went back to his bike. "My front tire's been low for two days." He pointed at my rig next. "And you got a low tire on that carrier and on the back of your ride. So I figured we'd take care of that now before the rain hit." He waved his left hand to the sky.

I hadn't noticed, but dark clouds were on the horizon in the northwest. Rain was coming and soon.

"We should get going then and find a shelter to ride out the storm. Hopefully it will pass in an hour or two." I stated the obvious.

"That's the plan, dude." I shook my head at him, he smiled. "Bill." If nothing, Jake had a good nature to him. I could enjoy his company for a little while.

We made a hard ride for a small farmstead about a half-mile up the road and set back about 300 yards. I could tell no one lived there; at least it looked abandoned. I knocked on the door at the main house, no answer. We hightailed it for a small barn as the first drops of the storm began to fall.

Safely inside the barn, barely, the first heavy wave hit. It poured outside. Inside we were dry and safe; the roof didn't seem to have any leaks. I watched as sheets of water from the summer storm came down all around, the kind of hard rain that gives you an inch or two an hour. Heavy rain falling straight down. There was no wind yet at least. Perhaps that would come in a bit. These storms often came in like that – hard, straight down rain for a few minutes followed shortly after by the winds of change. Typically a change in temperature. Usually a drop in temp, sometimes as much as 15 or 20 degrees.

The late afternoon got darker and colder in the barn as the actual front arrived. I shut the door and hit the switch on my large flashlight that doubled as a lantern. Jake found a couple of chairs further back in the barn and dusted them off as he brought them forward. They weren't great but they sure beat sitting on the ground. Jake and I plopped down in our seats around the low glow of light coming from the flashlight. Buddy came and laid between us. I looked over at my new companion.

"So Jake from Balsam Lake, tell me about yourself."

He looked at me and shrugged, then smiled slightly. "Not much to tell really. Just a typical 18-year-old kid from central Wisconsin I suppose." He leaned back in his chair looking around the barn. "I'll be a senior this year, if school ever starts again. On the football team, captain actually." That made sense to me. What he lacked in stature he made up for in brawn. I could tell he was quite fit. "I play full-back. At least I did last year. Hope to be the QB this year. My turn to call the signals." As with any high school kid, his school life came out first. It's what he felt truly defined who he was.

"How much family you have in Balsam Lake?" I wanted a little more depth.

"Me, Mom and Dad, an older sister, and a younger brother and sister. My little sister is a terror on wheels. No rules, typical last brat. My older sister is the brains of the family. She's in college down at the U. Sophomore or junior this coming year. Hard to remember when you're stuck in a small town. You mostly just worry about your own life, not someone who's hundreds of miles away." He looked like he could take or leave his older sister. It was hard to tell if they were close.

"Mom and Dad?" I tried a different angle.

He half laughed and looked closely at me before reaching down to pet Buddy. "Just typical parents, dude. On my back from sunrise to sunset. Watching for every mistake I make. Ray and Dawn, just plain simple small towner's really. There ain't nothing special about that pair."

He apparently didn't want to talk much about them. I tried more. "So they farm? You said before you had to get back to help them." He gave me a look like I was crazy and shook his head.

"They're old, man, like 40-something. Maybe early 40's. But I have to do all the work around there. I just made them sound like farmers for the girlfriend. You know, 'Can't stay too long babe, gotta get home to milk the cows.' All that stuff. She's never met them, how would she know?" He could tell from my blank expression I was lost. "Dude, she was squeezing the life out of me down there. She acted like I was staying forever. She practically had kids' names picked out. She's sweet and cute, but she ain't that sweet nor cute. I wasn't spending another day with that psycho much less the rest of my life. No way." He smiled and leaned back again.

"So, no farm?" He shook his head. "You live in town?" He nodded. "Okay. You know your folks aren't really that old. They're probably only two years older than me. And I'm not old yet." He grinned, looking over at me again.

"I saw you pedaling out there, Bill. You're old. I'm almost surprised you don't have a walker in that pack with you." I smiled back at him. Funny guy.

A quick flash of lighting briefly illuminated the barn, followed by a loud crack of thunder causing both brave Jake and myself to jump. The winds kicked up, and the rain came down at a harder rate. Our accidental meeting was a good thing. The timing for taking shelter where we did was perfect. Had I been another mile or two up the road who knows what I may, or most importantly – may not, have found.

"I was holding my own, just got a few extra years and pounds on you." I looked away and listened to it pour outside. Buddy nudged in closer, away from a drip. "Wasn't counting on rain for my trip." I looked at Jake. "I was hoping to make another 50 or 60 miles today." Jake leaned back in his chair and looked my way.

"I felt it coming in my bad knee. Football will do that to you. Make your body old before its time." He got up and went to my carrier. "Bring any pillows with?" He rummaged through my gear.

"No. No room for the comforts of home. Not at a time like this. Got to travel light." He looked dejected as he came back and lay down on the dry ground. "How'd you make it four days without food or shelter or bed linens or hardly anything?"

His boyish smile came to life. "I'm resourceful." I stared and shook my head; that wasn't enough of an explanation. "You see, when it's time to eat I pull in some place with girls or old people. I flash them a million-dollar smile and my good boy looks, and they offer me the world. One place, some old woman wanted me to stay until her grandkids showed up. Another place two teenaged girls wanted me to stay for protection. If you got the right attitude or look, they'll give you anything you want dude. And I mean anything." He laughed slightly.

"Well I'm trying to avoid people at all costs, so keep that in mind. All I'm trying to do is get to Milwaukee in the next couple of days in one piece. Once I'm there I can put my world back together. I don't need any trouble or special favors along the way. I figure every time I have to slow down to help someone or get help from someone, well, that creates an opportunity for trouble." I looked seriously at Jake. "I already saw enough trouble where I came from. I don't need any more."

Jake looked passively at me. "Whatever dude. I just do what I got to do to get home. I'm no hero either. I'd rather get home than end up a dead martyr in a ditch. Like I said, it's ugly out there. You know it. Tomorrow I'll go home and you go wherever." He pointed at my supplies. "Tonight, let's enjoy some of your pork and beans, though. I'm pretty hungry; gonna share?" He gazed at me like a dog begging for dinner. Buddy matched his gaze.

"Yeah. I suppose that's fine for tonight." We pulled out two cans of beans and some hard food I had for Buddy. Jake made quick work of his meal. I slowly enjoyed every last bite of mine. Buddy did the lab thing and wolfed down his food faster than either of us.

Within a few hours, the rain started to let up, but darkness followed. This was as good of place as any to hunker down. I gave Jake an extra blanket, and we drifted off into dreamless sleep after a hard day on the bike. With any luck, this time tomorrow night I might make it to Stevens Point, I thought. At worst I'd be close.

Just before turning off the light for the evening, I studied the map from my pack. I'd made about 50 miles that day. I frowned; that wasn't anywhere near what I needed to do. Another 40 would have been easy if the rain had held off. But 50 was the number. I had to live with that. That meant another 300 to go. At 10 miles per hour, that was two 15-hour days. Perhaps Stevens Point wasn't any longer possible tomorrow.

Maybe I would shoot off cross-country, I told myself. That would help cut some of the miles off this trip. But I wasn't sure the map I was using had all the roads that I would need to travel. Maybe the pedaling would get easier tomorrow. But I seriously doubted this chore would get any easier as time went by. I knew it actually.

I listened to Jake snore while lying on the ground some 20 feet from me. I looked at the map again. Balsam Lake was a mere ten miles away. An easy ride first thing in the morning, barely an hour. I'd let Jake tagalong until the road cut off a mile outside of town and then continue on east alone. I didn't need any detours; I didn't need any distractions, either. Though Jake was a welcomed distraction, he was still a distraction.

I shut the light off and was asleep by the time my head hit the makeshift pillow.

# Chapter 21

Jake and I knelt by the side of the road in the wet grass. Highway 8 was teeming with travelers just as I had been warned in Osceola the day before. In the last 15 minutes, we'd seen no fewer than 20 people. And most of them appeared to not be overly friendly. We were just waiting for a chance to cross, unnoticed. My carrier had already taken in its fair share of attention.

"Dude, you really need to hide that kid cart better. Everyone sees that thing!" Jake was not happy this morning. I had woken him at first light. He mentioned something about being a late sleeper. Then when I threatened to leave without him, he begged me to wait. He got ready pretty quick actually. It was about the quickest I'd seen him move, with the exception of catching me on the road yesterday.

"There's one more group to clear and then we're home free," I whispered to Jake. He seemed to want to speak in a normal tone; like that would help hide us. I saw him shake his head.

"Dude, I don't like the look of this next group. Something's wrong. Five guys and they look edgy to me. Something's wrong dude." He stared hard at the group some 75 yards still down the road. He had reason to be spooked.

The first ten minutes on the road that day had brought trouble. We bumped into a group of meandering misfits going around a tight corner less than a mile from our previous night's hideout. Jake and I came to a quick stop no more than five yards in front of them. They looked us over like a side of beef, not a good feeling.

Finally their leader spoke. "What you got in the carrier?" All three looked past us at the blue nylon device. It was like they had X-ray vision. I wanted to handle the situation calmly but Jake spoke first, and not too calm.

Jake stuck his chin up daring the road trash to move. "Screw off. You touch that and my buddy here will shoot you all dead." They looked me up and down carefully. It would have helped if I had grabbed the gun from the carrier before we broke camp, but this was the hand we were dealt. So I bluffed.

My hand moved around in my sweatshirt pocket like I was grabbing my gun. Or maybe an apple. Hopefully these three idiots wouldn't call Jake's misinformed bluff. Maybe. They nervously looked between Jake and me and Buddy. Buddy was no help. He was far too gregarious to be a threat. I guess I had trained him well to be nice to all visitors. All people.

Finally the leader spoke again, looking back at his cohorts in crime. "I don't think he's got a gun. You?" One shook no; I almost wet myself.

The other, thankfully, seemed more skeptical. "I say we don't find out. I don't want to be the one who gets shot, just in case he's got one." The other two shared a look and then glanced back over their shoulders at me. I nodded showing my faux toughness. The wet spot in my pants would give me away in about a second I worried.

"Yeah, whatever." The threat died down. After two minutes of holding my breath I finally exhaled. Jake did the same. "I still say you're bluffing but there's easier pickings out here. So forget it. Go on past." Jake watched our back as we pedaled on, away from the trouble.

But now, here we were looking at all sorts of trouble again. I thought we had hidden our bikes well enough, but everyone going by seemed to notice the blue nylon of the carrier. Or maybe it was the bright yellow stripe going across both sides of the carrier. Whatever it was, it garnered a lot of unwanted attention.

I put my hand on Jake's shoulder and spoke softly as we closely watched the highway.

"When this group gets by us we'll ease down, grab the bikes and get going. I say let them get 50 yards past. Okay?" Jake nodded still watching intently. He seemed to recognize something or someone in the approaching group.

"Dude, I know this guy out front. He's a bad hombre. We need to avoid him at all costs." I was fine with Jake's plan. I didn't need any more trouble.

"Just let them pass, no big deal." He nodded his head.

"What are you guys looking at?" A third voice joined our group causing Jake and I to jump. Between us knelt a young boy. After closer examination I discovered the boy to be a girl. She glared at me and then down at Jake. "Hi Jake."

Jake let out a quick sigh, recognizing our intruder. "Hey Brit. What are you doing here?" Apparently these two knew each other. The young lady smiled at me.

"Just making my way to my grandparent's place. I was over in St. Croix Falls with my dad." She knelt close to Jake. Leaning in against him. Finally, he noticed my confusion.

"Bill, this is Brit. Brit, Bill." She ignored the introduction, watching the road carefully. "She's a cousin. Like a third cousin or something like that. She lives in Balsam too. With her mom." This began to make a little more sense to me, finally.

"Okay," I began slowly, "That explains who she is. Now, why are you here in the middle of nowhere like this, Brit?" I studied her face carefully. She didn't seem too worried, or over anxious, or like anything was bothering her. She watched the road with Jake and looked back at me with her answer.

"I've been over by my dad's place this past few weeks. Ever since the power went out. My dad's not a lot of fun, so I decided this morning I wanted to go to my grandma and grandpa's farm. That's up by Frederic. So that's where I'm headed." She shrugged slightly as she finished. No big deal.

I shook my head at her. "And exactly how old are you?" Once again she smiled.

"I'm fourteen and I know how to take care of myself. So you don't need to worry about that." I saw Jake chuckling.

"Yes?" I frowned at Jake so he might explain.

"Brit's pretty independent, Bill. She's left alone a lot by her folks. All of a sudden she'll show up in the oddest of places, by herself." He grinned my way. "She's resourceful you could say." Resourceful or not, she'd be going with Jake. That much I knew. I had enough issues to deal with already. I looked at the road. The latest group stopped in front of our position.

I shook my head for about the fortieth time. They were staring at that stupid bike carrier that wasn't well hidden. Next they stared at us in the brush, also not so well hidden.

"Well what do we have here?" Their apparent leader spoke. He was tall and thin and dirty. Even his scraggily facial hair was matted with sweat. His dark hair matched his dark eyes and even darker mood. This wasn't good. "I see you in bushes. Why don't you come out so we can all be friends?" I swore under my breath, Jake swore a little louder. I was about to tell our group to hold tight when Brit popped up and started out of the brush. Not the exact plan I had in mind. Jake and I rose and chased after her.

We stepped out into the open ditch ten feet from them. The road and the ditch were the same elevation so they had no advantage of higher ground. The five looked us over carefully. The girl stood between Jake and myself.

I took the lead. "We're not looking for any trouble fellows." This caused them all to grin. Not a good start. "We just want to head north from here. No big deal, just heading north." The five stared at us intently.

"Well," the leader started slowly. "I'm always open to letting people pass. As long as they can pay the toll." All of us stared in quiet anticipation. The next words from either would be important. "Say, what's you name sweetie?" Okay, maybe not that important.

The girl's stare bore a hole through his head. "My name is Brit. I'm with these two. I'm heading for my grandparent's farm." One of their group licked his lips, gawking at Brit. This kind of attention wasn't good.

"Well, Britney. Wouldn't you rather come with five handsome men? Or do you want to get lost with these two wimps? We'll be able to protect you better." I didn't like this man's attention focused on a 14-year-old girl. His funny sideways smile made me feel uncomfortable.

"First off," Brit began before I could get a word out. "My name is Brit. Only my family gets to call me Britney. Secondly, I'm not going anywhere with you creeps. You're all dirty and gross and disgusting. I'm staying with Jake here." The leaders smile faded into a nasty frown. He had other plans.

"I wasn't really asking, sweetie pie. It was more of a statement." Brit's head shook showing her intentions. The standoff intensified.

I shrugged at the leader. The lady had spoken her mind. "Okay then, we'll just be on our way and leave you fellows to your travels..." A strong hand to my chest told me this group lacked a sense of humor.

The leader looked at me. "We'll just take your stuff then."

I shook my head. I needed my supplies now more than ever. I felt the gun in my pocket trying to decide when to bring it out. "I don't think so. Maybe I can give you a couple things from my supplies but not the whole lot. No way."

The leader smiled right through me. "How about I take the dog, your supplies, your bikes and the girl and just leave you two on foot. That sound better?" His group laughed again.

Finally I withdrew the pistol from my pocket. His laugh stopped suddenly. "No, I don't think so. How about you just let us pass and I don't use this thing?"

He seemed unimpressed. "What you gonna do? Shoot us all? Hardly. You might hit one or two before someone got to you. And then you and the kid are dead. And we still get everything in the end." He was right, but I didn't show any concern, at least on the outside.

Jake and Britney stared at us. I hoped they would both keep their mouths shut. There was nothing either could add that would help. Thankfully they were silent. Well, Jake kept quiet.

"Just give him whatever, so we can keep going." Brit thought this might help. Not good Brit, not good.

I sighed.

"So what's the trade then?"

He looked at me seriously, meanly. "I'm taking the bikes and your supplies. You can keep her. She looks too young anyway." He continued to stare deep into my eyes. I watched as his four friends moved closer to everyone.

I slowly weighed my options. I knew it was the right thing to do. I could find another bike somewhere within a few hours. Supplies would be harder to replace, but I couldn't take a chance of these road bandits taking an innocent girl.

"Just let me grab my pack from the carrier, okay?"

The leader acquiesced with a slight nod. I grabbed my backpack with some canned goods, 20 rounds of ammo and another change of clothes. It wasn't the best trade, but it was the right thing. Even if it completely messed up all my plans. I grabbed what I needed and pointed at the bikes for his team to take. The road bandits took their bounty and started down the road.

Jake looked on shaking his head. "Dude, that's my bike. You didn't have any right to give it to them." He stared like he was losing a long-time pal. I swore I could almost see a tear form in his eye.

"We traded our stuff for your cousin's safety, Jake. In case you didn't notice, they seemed fairly interested in her." I turned and looked at the pair. Jake was either miffed or depressed, I couldn't tell. Brit looked at me and shrugged, she didn't seem to notice their evil intentions.

"Whatever. It's not like I'm a woman." She had no idea how dangerous her presence could be. In her mind, she was just a young girl, and that's how everyone else should view her too. I shook my head at her naivety.

"Brit, you can't be traveling alone. It's not safe." She looked up at me like I was crazy.

Jake shrugged at her and picked up his jacket from the side of the road. He pulled out a smoke and puffed away. He wasn't too thrilled to be on foot.

"Let's just get going so I can drop you two off in Balsam Lake and I can be on my way." Jake nodded but Britney, well, Brit, froze.

Brit spoke loudly to us. "I'm not going to Balsam. I'm going to Frederic."

I looked at Jake. "I thought you said she lived in Balsam Lake with her mom?" He shrugged again. I was getting pretty sick of that response.

Brit spoke up. "Mom does, but she'll probably be up by her parents, north of Luck. So that's where I'm going. I can make it on my own. I'm fine. That's the first issue I've had all morning." Five minutes in, and her opinions flew freely.

Jake laughed at her. "I don't know if that's a good idea, Brit. You and Bill can make it to Luck. The roads are full of creeps." Jake looked down at the shorter girl. Brit, for her part, ignored Jake and started walking ahead. Something told me there was more discussion to come yet. "Brit, I'm serious." Suddenly the young girl stopped and turned.

She came back at Jake quickly. A nasty look crossed her face while she shook her head. Apparently she wasn't used to being told no. She stopped inches from Jake and stared seriously up into his emotionless face. What were these two up to?

# Chapter 22

The stare down that ensued between the two would have been comical if I didn't have a schedule to keep. Add to that the fact that I was now on foot for a while and my four-day journey was beginning to take on a weeklong look. And to add insult to injury, the vast majority of my supplies for the trip were a half-mile down the road to the east. So, my sense of humor was gone. I stepped between the pair and put a hand on each of their shoulders. "Okay, what's the problem you two?"

Brit looked up at me with serious eyes. "He can't tell me what to do. I can take care of myself." She looked between Jake and me. "If he's so worried, he can walk me to Frederic."

Jake laughed. "Brit, listen carefully. If you want to go to Frederic have at it. But when we get to Main Street, I'm heading east into Balsam. Bill here can take you the rest of the way. It's just a couple more hours up the road you know."

She moved quickly to Jake's side. "Jake, you don't get to decide for me. I know where I'm going. He'll just slow me down. You can keep up at least." Jake smiled and shook his head at her. "Jake, please come with me."

I stepped in. "Again, Brit, you're too young to be out here all on your own. I know you're independent, but it wouldn't be responsible of me to let you walk alone. And I think Jake wants to get home soon; check on his family." She looked cynically at me and then Jake.

"I think you're okay with Bill, Brit." Jake tied his jacket around his waist.

I started up the road going north. I called back for them. "Come on kids. Daylight is a burning." Jake and Brit started to follow some ten paces behind me and Buddy.

"I can get there by myself." Brit started in on Jake again "I don't need a babysitter. And I don't want to walk alone with him. He's creepy." Brit crossed her arms and stared ahead. If that was her problem with me, great. I couldn't care less what she might think. I had ground to make up. I decided to add one last thing so she would know it was okay to be with me.

"I have to go that way now too, Brit. I've got to get up to the next major highway running east and west. It'll be a great help for me to have you with. Since you know where you're headed and all." I glanced back over my shoulder. That seemed to have helped ease her mood.

I figured we were no more than six miles from Jake's road into Balsam, as the locals seemed to say. That meant two hours of cousin quibbling. First it was this aunt, then that uncle, then some great-aunt, and finally her mother. While Jake liked one and despised another, Brit's feelings were the polar opposite. It only took an hour before I had to interrupt. The subject had moved on from relatives to school and now school lunch.

"You should be happy they feed you at all." I spoke not turning around to address the pair. "Some school districts have had to cut hot lunches due to funding issues. So, you really are lucky." I heard them both laugh.

"It's gross, it's disgusting, and it's inedible." Brit seemed to be an authority on the subject. "I dare you to eat it for a week. Your guts will never be the same."

I stopped and turned, staring at the local know-it-all. "I eat school lunch almost every day, missy. At least the days I'm at the schools. And for your information, it's fine. Just fine."

Her eyes opened wide. "You're a teacher." She nodded her head enthusiastically. "I knew it." She looked at Jake. "They're the biggest perverts of all." She tilted her head sideways showing her justification in not trusting me.

"I'm a psychologist, Brit. I go around to the different schools in the district helping kids with issues. When I happen to be at a school for lunchtime I eat with the staff. One of the perks of the job – free lunch."

Jake smiled and laughed, Brit was disgusted. "Gross. Like anything they make in Minnesota is better than the slop they expect us to eat over here. You're just disgusting." She walked past me as Jake raised his eyebrows.

"What a lovely disposition she has. Could have warned me about this before we saved her."

Jake patted my shoulder and followed after Brit. "Ah, she's okay. Just talks all the time. She's really kinda cute when you look at her up close."

That hadn't crossed my mind. It was hard to see any cuteness through all of her... personality.

"I heard that Jake." She looked at both of us staring blankly at her. "And I know I'm cute. So there." She turned on her heel and marched forward, albeit slowly. Jake and I followed dutifully so we could catch up to her small steps. It took about 50 yards.

"So, Mr. School Shrink, what's wrong with the world?" I knew I could count on Brit to keep the stimulating conversation moving along.

"Don't know for sure. I suppose, what I have deduced so far, is that we were hit by a series of high altitude EMPs. That's the best I've been able to determine."

Both Jake and Brit stared at me like I was speaking a foreign tongue.

"Electromagnetic Pulses, EMPs. They're like a nuclear bomb just without all the messy damage."

Jake formulated a question. "What do these EMTs do to things?" He was close.

"They fry all our circuitry. That's the worst thing they do. So anything that runs on electricity gets fried. Anything with a computer or a chip gets fried. All our cool stuff – fried."

Jake looked skeptical, but nodded that he understood.

Brit was lost in a thought. "For how long?" I looked at her hoping to deliver this next bit of news as kindly as I could.

"We're not sure, Brit. It could be months, it could be years. It could even be decades. We don't know yet."

I watched this information sink in slowly and slowly she began to look around with a frightened, almost panicked expression. "No, it can't be that long. They'll have this stuff fixed by September I bet. We probably won't even miss a day of school." The expression was the same, only her words were hopeful, and forced.

I started to walk again. I think it was the first time that anyone had spoken honestly to Brit about any of this.

Jake nudged her along. "Come on. Let's keep moving."

Brit was quiet for the next half hour.

I decided she had pondered her future long enough. It was time to get to know her a little more. "So your mom lives in Balsam Lake, Brit?"

"Yeah, but I'm not looking for Mom. I'm going to Grandma and Grandpa's up by Frederic." She certainly was making her destination well known.

I couldn't figure out this teenager. She was evasive, in a classical way. "Why there? If Mom is here I would think you'd want to be by her."

"If Mom is here she'll be all freaked out. I don't need that. And most likely when the bombs went off she rode her stupid bike up to Grandma's, her mother's. Either way, I'm going to Luck." Really Britney, I got it, loud and clear.

"Can I ask, if you don't mind, why didn't you stay with your dad?" It was a logical question given the current climate.

Brit was unusually quiet for the next little bit. Finally she spoke. "It's not all that fun with him. He's not a real good dad. If he's not off chasing strange women around, he's home passed out from drinking. My mom dropped me off over there about a month ago. She said it was 'his turn to watch the brat for a while.'" Brit walked next to Jake, still behind me paying attention to Buddy. "I just got sick of him and his crap. Anything bad happens and it's my fault. Same crap every day." I glanced back, she was looking at the ground. I recognized the behavior.

Brit used a lot of negative statements when describing her parents. 'Not a great mom, not a good dad, not much fun.' This told me a lot about her relationships with them. She seemed to withdraw the more we spoke on the current topic. I wanted to lighten her mood, so I decided to change the subject. Jake was up front leading the way to Balsam. He seemed to be in a hurry to get home.

"So, Grandpa has a farm?"

Her little face lit up for a brief second before she changed her mood back to solemn. "Yeah." She continued looking ahead.

"When was the last time you were out there, Brit?" I kept the new, happy conversation going.

"About two months ago. Not that it's any of your business." Her face darkened again.

I stopped and looked at her closely. "You know Brit, I'm not the enemy. I understand if you're some deep, dark goth person. If you want to be all moody, have at it." She looked away further. "All I'm trying to do is get to know you a little better, that's all. If you don't want to talk, just say so. But I find talking helps in many ways. It'll help us pass the time out here, okay?" Finally she looked back at me.

"Just mind your own business, okay?" Her eyes quickly darted away from mine and back at the countryside. "Trust me, I have no interest in getting to know all about you and your pathetic life, Bill." I smiled. Her words spoke volumes to me.

"Fair enough, young lady. Fair enough." Our group started walking again.

Jake started to try and apologize for Brit's harshness. I stopped him quickly.

"I've had a lot of practice with kids, Jake. I've been doing this for almost ten years. I've seen a lot of kids like Brit. Maybe not as special as Brit, but a lot just like her." The last part made Brit smile broadly. I'm not sure she had been told how special she was to anyone in the past few months. We moved on.

# Chapter 23

I shook my head and repeated myself. "No. No thank you. I can't." Jake seemed to understand. He knew it was a long shot. I looked at Brit, she seemed to be contemplating Jake's request.

Jake turned his head and looked at her. "Brit? You?" She was deep in thought. "You wanna stay? With me and my folks? You're welcome to you know."

I watched Brit's small blue eyes go between me and Jake. Our feet at least. Finally she looked up at me. "No. As long as Bill is moving on I think I can get to my grandparent's house okay. That's what I really want." Jake smiled a sort of sad smile. "But thanks anyways, Jake." She nodded slightly at him.

He smiled again at the pair of us. "Well, this is where I take my leave then. I gotta get home. Lawn probably hasn't been mowed in four weeks ya know." His smile got more sincere as he spoke. He looked over at me. "If you keep on this road for another half mile or so, it bends to the left. Look for a green house. That's Thomas' place. They'll have bikes. Probably won't even charge you." I shook Jake's hand, and gave his shoulder a hardy pat with my free hand.

"So, what are you going to tell Dad about his car?" The one he abandoned down in Ankeny.

He laughed. "I'm going to hope like heck the power never comes back on. At least to the cars. I got no plans on going back down there to get that thing. I don't ever want to see that crazy girl again." I laughed. Just like a teenager.

Brit came over and gave Jake a nice hug. Nicer than I thought she might. "I'll see you in a couple months, Jake. When I come to get my stuff. If my mom shows up that is. If you want to come visit me you can. You know where my mom's parents live." Jake grinned at the small teen.

Truth be told, we weren't precisely sure of our exact destination. Not the address at least. All Jake and I could get from Brit was that the house was between Luck and Frederic about a mile or so off the main highway. To the left; at least that's what Brit thought now. Earlier she was convinced she went right. But she figured she would know the proper direction when we got to the road. An unnamed road, one she would recognize when we got there. Said she wasn't really good at directions. No kidding, Brit.

Brit, Buddy and I stood watching Jake start the last leg of his homeward journey. All in all he was a pretty darn nice kid. Someday, I thought, he'd grow to be a nice young man. Maybe a young man even Brit might be interested in if they weren't third cousins ten times removed I suppose.

We started up the road north. We had only seen a few people after our initial adventure finding Brit. Most of what we saw were people out in the gardens, mowing lawns by hand, watering flowers from a creek and the occasional stranger walking by in the opposite direction. Some said hello, some nodded, and some completely ignored us. I was fine with people ignoring Brit and I from here on in. If we could just catch a break we'd be back on bikes within the hour. I was already sick of walking.

"Do you have any more water in your pack?" Brit looked up at me as we walked side-by-side, Buddy in front of us. I flipped the pack around to the front of my body and opened it. I knew there were two more bottles. I handed one to Brit and left the other in the pack for later.

"Take it easy on that. We're down to two, and they have to last us until Grandpa's house. You said they have a pump there, right?"

She took a tiny sip of water and replaced the cap. She handed the bottle back to me and finally nodded at my question. "Yep. And the water's always cold in the summer. I remember that even as a little girl. Probably five or six." From the little talking we'd done, Brit didn't seem like some dense schoolgirl. She sounded rather intelligent. I decided to probe.

"Brit, what's your last name? I don't think I ever asked you that."

She shook her head and frowned still looking ahead. "McMahon. Britney McMahon. And yes, I'm Irish. No comments please."

She had to be kidding. I couldn't resist. "You're just a wee little Irish lass, Britney McMahon." I smiled as I spoke in my best leprechaun voice.

Her head shook more. "You should have been a teacher. They're corny like that." Clever girl.

"So, you'll be a sophomore next year?" She nodded. "That means you'll be 15 sometime soon I imagine."

She nodded. "September 29th. Again, not that it's any of your business."

I stopped, laughed and smiled broadly at Brit. "Really?" Her eyes showed me she wasn't lying. "That's my birthday too." She smiled but nothing more. I knew she wasn't crazy about walking, so I expected a little attitude. It was starting to show ever so slightly. "What else you do at school? Band? Cheerleading? FHA?"

It was her turn to stop. She stared at me almost miffed. "Really? You think I'm a nerd or a prissy or a housewife? Really?"

I held my hands up slightly. "Sorry. Just trying to make conversation. What do you do then for fun? Torture small animals?"

She rolled her eyes and looked at the tall corn in every direction. "I like to run."

I glanced at her sideways, skeptically. "Track or cross-country?" This would tell me if she was lying or not.

"Both. I do both. Cross-country in the fall, and track in the spring. 1600 and 3200 meters." The girl knew her stuff. "And I'm pretty good actually. I took thirteenth at sectionals in cross-country as a freshman. I hope to go to state this year." She frowned. "If we ever get back to school." I tried to smile to give her hope, but I don't think it was very convincing. We continued on.

I decided to lighten the mood with a little test. "Sweet corn or field corn?" She looked at me like I was an idiot. "Is that,..." I pointed to our right, "...field corn or sweet corn?"

She gazed at it ever so briefly. "My grandpa was a farmer. I've lived in the city all my life. I'm not a farmer, Bill." Brit was getting sick of me. "But that's field corn. The tassels are darker than sweet corn would be." She was right. She was no dummy.

I tried another test – I had nothing but time on my hands. "Here's one for you Brit." She looked at me and sighed. But she didn't say stop. "How many quarters, stacked end to end would it take to reach the top of a five-story building?"

Now she really stared at me. I was taken back by the harsh looks she could throw out. She looked left, then right. "Let's get something clear. I don't need you, Bill. I don't need a chaperone. I am just fine on my own. So let's not pretend to be all chummy. Let's just walk and get there." She turned and started down the road again.

I shrugged and walked ahead to catch her. This was one tough cookie. I would prefer to be a little more sociable, but if that's the way she wanted to be, well then, okay. We could walk in silence.

The day was warm so the blacktop was already very hot. I moved to the shoulder to walk on the gravel. Brit noticed and followed suit. She fell in behind as I lead the way.

"Six hundred," she called out from the rear position. I stopped and she almost ran into my back.

I turned and stared at her. "Six hundred what, Brit? The amount of souls you've extinguished with your lovely personality?" I met her stare with a smile.

She shook her head slightly. "Funny, real funny. Six hundred quarters." She walked around me, brushing against me to clear her way and continued down the shoulder. "Five stories of ten feet each. Figure each quarter is an inch wide and each story is 120 inches tall. That's ten feet you know." I gave a sardonic smile she couldn't see. "One hundred twenty quarters per story, five stories," she shrugged stopped and stared one more time, "equals six hundred." I laughed slightly.

"I believe you are correct. And that makes you the winner of today's quiz, young Britney McMahon." She flinched hearing me use her full name. "Brit," I added.

She didn't smile even though I made a point of making it sound like she'd just won a gold medal at the Olympics. "What's my prize?"

I handed her the bottle of water. "You get the next drink and the last mini pack of M&M's from the backpack."

She laughed, and we kept moving forward. There was a lot more to this tiny teen than met the eye. She was intelligent, articulate and perhaps not too bad to hang out with. If we could just get rid of her bitterness.

Within what had to be less than an hour, we arrived at the corner Jake had told us about. Here we would find the Thomas' and more importantly bikes. I was ready to get back to pedaling. Brit had mentioned it about 60 times in the past 15 minutes, so I knew she was ready as well. The problem was there wasn't a house on this corner. Or anywhere near this corner.

"Road bends to the left and look for a green house." I looked at Brit as I spoke. She nodded. "Where's the house?"

Brit pointed further down the road. Maybe a half-mile or so. "There's one." I could see it too.

"But that's a red house, not green. He said green, right?"

Brit nodded more and then screwed up her face a little. "Not sure?" I asked. She kept looking down the road and shook her head slowly.

"No. People coming. Looks like a large group. Maybe a dozen."

I turned and looked. She was right. Dang it. Large group like that probably meant trouble. I looked for our escape. "Let's hustle down this side road for a bit. There's some woods off to the right down there that we can hide in. Um, take cover in." That sounded better, braver. We started down the new road at a much quicker pace. We both sensed trouble.

We crept into the small brush lot and knelt. We could see where the roads met a couple hundred yards away. Hopefully the group would just walk past. Maybe they didn't see us. Perhaps they thought we had retreated back down the main road. I didn't really care as long as they left us alone. I stared at the junction cussing myself under my breath.

"You have that gun still, right?" Brit sounded a little nervous. I nodded. "Show it to me." Okay, she was more than a little nervous. I pulled the gun from my pants pocket. She seemed happier. "Okay, just keep it out for a while, please." I looked down. A shaky right hand came to her mouth as she stared intently at the same junction. This girl was scared.

# Chapter 24

The longer we watched, the slower time moved. I thought of that silly saying of my grandmother: _A watched pot never boils_. Stupid. It takes the same amount of time for water to a boil whether you watch it or not. However, right at that moment, I started to wonder if Grandma wasn't onto something. I began to wonder if the group hadn't stopped for lunch.

After another ten minutes, the group wandered by on the main road. Brit quietly counted the people, fifteen in all. They looked to be younger than me but older than Brit. If I had to guess, I would say they were all twenty-something. They didn't look particularly menacing, but a number of them carried bats and other forms of hand weapons. The gent in the lead carried some type of rifle.

We waited ten minutes for them to get well past our position. Then, at Brit's insistence, we waited another five. I could see fear in her eyes. Something told me she wanted to avoid groups of unknown people. I couldn't blame her given our earlier joint experience. Caution was the rule of the day. We finally came out of our hiding spot and continued down the road.

"Tell me, why didn't you stay put with Dad? Seems safer now." I knew I wouldn't like the answer but I had to ask. Brit snorted at the idea.

"Yeah, right. Hanging out with a drunk is real fun." I had figured this much. "He gets mean when he drinks. And he's been drinking hard since this whole thing started. So let's just say he was plenty mean. And I was plenty sick of all his crap." She didn't sound too upset, more matter of fact.

"Okay, so you took off alone on foot?"

She was still looking ahead as I looked to her for more. "Yep. So I took off right after I got up and started down Highway 8. Past Deer Lake and on my way to 46." She finally looked up at me. "You know where that is?" I nodded. "I saw there were a lot of strange people on the road. I didn't know what I would find. So every time I saw a group, I made my way into the woods or corn or wherever I could pass without them seeing me. I know how to take care of myself." She stopped and stared, at me.

"Yeah, that's pretty obvious, Brit. I guess it's a good thing Jake and I bumped into you when we did." She opened her eyes wider. "You're a cute girl, Brit. Cute girls shouldn't be out on their own right now. No one should be out alone actually. If they aren't using your body, they'll take your food. If it's not your food, they'll take your supplies. I don't even want to think what they'd do to a person who was empty handed."

She grabbed my left arm to get my attention. "You're a shrink. Why are people acting like this?"

Good question, Brit. I thought for a moment before I replied. "There's a certain lawless element out there that thrives during times of crisis. They don't have many rules to start, so times like these are when they thrive." She seemed to be following along. "Most decent people's instincts tell them to hide or hole up when things get bad. These people, road bandits they're calling them, well they go out and scavenge for whatever they can find. They don't have a lot to start with, so they need almost everything. Without the normal rules of society, they just take what they want, what they feel they need. To survive. That's the key, Brit. They seem to know how to survive better than most of the people. And they don't care what they have to do, survive they will."

She pouted and reached down to pet Buddy who had finally caught up. She took a small drink of the tepid water and looked at the never-ending expanse of corn all around. "So taking and maybe trading a 14-year-old girl for sex is normal for them?" She certainly was a blunt young lady.

"They don't see it as an issue, Brit. They don't know you or have any ties to you. They simply see you as an opportunity to get one or some of their basic needs met. Food perhaps. Deep inside, they aren't acting maliciously, they are just doing what they need to do to survive." I looked closely at her. "Do you understand the difference?"

She nodded casually. "I guess so. That doesn't make it right though." I nodded, very true. "The sooner I get to my grandparents' place the safer I'll be. That much I know."

We turned and continued down the long, lonely road. Alone, but safe.

We walked for another hour before we took a break. You might think it would be boring walking down a deserted stretch of road like this, a 38-year-old man and a 14-year-old girl I had just met that morning. Brit had had enough silence for one day, so she made up for any boredom with a string of never-ending chatter. I discovered she _could_ talk.

"So my mom, Sheri, she had me when she was 15. We lived with grandma and grandpa for a few years, but she figured she could get more government aid if we lived alone, so that's when we moved to Balsam. I think I was four or five at the time. The first place we lived was a dump. I can sort of remember it. Bugs in the summer and mice in the winter. Inside I mean." She looked to see if I was still paying attention to her riveting story. I had been nodding at her for over an hour to keep her going.

"Okay, so then we moved to a nicer place. Grandpa helps with the rent. But at least there's no mice anymore. I got my own room, and she let me decorate it however I wanted. I had my friend Billie help me paint last summer. We did this cool design on purple walls. It was skulls and stars. It's so sweet." I could feel my brain dying word by word. But I kept nodding so she would continue.

Years as a school psychologist have taught me that most kids from broken homes want one thing above all others. Normalcy. They want a normal life, they want a normal family, they want their parents to have normal jobs. When normal goes missing, they start acting up, because... they want attention if they can't have normal. Many of these kids are good kids deep inside. They just get a little off track due to their crappy parents. I guess I should be glad; this is what keeps me employed. Maybe kept me employed is a better way to put it given the current situation.

"I always wanted a dog, sometimes even a cat. But mom always said no. We hardly have enough money for food and utilities, much less food for a pet. I would have named my dog Snoopy. You know, like Charlie Brown's dog." My continual nod continued. Brit had a lot to say now that she had started. "I had a fish once, one of those beta fishes. But he only lived like a week. So it probably wouldn't have worked so well if I had a dog." She was getting more animated, more open the more we walked, and she talked. "When are we going to stop for lunch? I'm getting kind of hungry."

I stopped and smiled. "We can stop right now. I'm sort of hungry myself." We'd made about two miles in a little less than an hour. Not great time, but adequate in my mind. "Let's see what we have in the pack to eat."

I opened the pack as Brit looked over my shoulder. "Two cans of pork and beans, one can of tuna – in spring water, so dolphin safe – two cans of mixed fruit, three sleeves of soda crackers, one last bottle of water, and a partridge in a pear tree." I called the items out as I sorted them.

Brit giggled at my partridge tune. "Can I have the tuna?" She opened her blue eyes and gave me a pleading look. I couldn't say no to that.

"Sure. And we'll split a sleeve of crackers. Should I open some fruit?"

She looked closely to see what kind of fruit we were talking about. Fruit cocktail of course. She nodded. "Yeah, I like fruit cocktail. Do you have more than one spoon?" Good question; I dug deeper.

In my hasty packing I hadn't considered eating utensils very well. I had one spoon, one fork and a solitary table knife.

"You can have the spoon," I said. "I'll use the fork." I opened her tuna, my pork and beans, and our fruit. We sat on a log in the ditch under the blazing midday sun. It was hot again.

We nursed our next to last bottle of water as we ate our food in silence. After I had finished, I dug the map out of my back pocket and laid it on the ground. Brit was carefully scooping the last of the fruit into her mouth as she leaned forward to study the map with me. She tossed Buddy a cracker, as he lay next to us in the grassy ditch.

"How much further you think?" Brit leaned over my right shoulder as she studied the map carefully. I counted the miles in my head remembering we weren't exactly sure of our destination. But she'd know when we got there.

"Well, Luck appears to be another three miles north of here. Frederic is another six north of that. If we make two miles an hour we can be to Luck by..." I looked at my pocket watch. It was 3:10. "4:40 or so. That would put us close to your grandparents place by 6 o'clock, maybe 6:30. 7 o'clock at the latest." I looked up at Brit; she smiled at the map or maybe my words.

We left our resting spot and continued on down the road. Since we were heading north, I suppose I should say "up the road."

We hadn't gone very far when Brit grabbed at my arm. "Bill, up ahead." She pointed to the north. Another group of people were on the prowl. As best as I could tell, they hadn't seen us. I looked around for a hiding spot. The nearest side road was a ways back. Nothing close. At the present moment, we were surrounded by nothing but corn. Six to eight foot tall field corn. Acres and acres of field corn. I grabbed Brit's hand and lead her into the field on our right.

# Chapter 25

Breathless, we stood in the corn, awaiting the strangers' approach. We could hear them more than see them. Brit and I were about 20 feet into the field, so they weren't going to be able to spot us unless they came in. And then they'd have to know where in the 100-plus acre field we were. It was obvious from what they were saying they had seen us though.

"They were right about here I think. Maybe ten feet or so either way of here, but we're close." It was a male voice, a deep dark sounding voice. I wasn't interested in meeting its owner.

"How many did you think you saw?" Another male.

"Two or three," the leader spoke again. "Probably just two, but I could have sworn there was a third." I could hear him pushing corn around to look further in, but it was too dense. It seems they had mistaken Buddy for a person. Buddy, who was again absent. I held my index finger up to my lips. Brit needed to keep quiet. We moved slowly, deeper into the field following the row we were already in. There was enough wind to mask our movements.

"Maybe we should give up and find easier prey." A third male voice joined the conversation. It was higher pitched and much more nasal than the first two. "You know, like that family we came across yesterday. They were plenty giving. I wish now we'd taken all their food and left them with nothing. Maybe I wouldn't be starving now." The two others laughed at him.

"If we hadn't threatened Dad, I'm not sure he would have offered anything. All we had to do was lick our lips at the missus and bingo, 'Here's your food, boys.'" They all laughed now. "Stupid shit, out here with no weapon except a pocketknife. They'll be dead before they get to Michigan." Brit's grasp of my right arm was getting vice-like the more they spoke. I again looked her in the eyes reminding her to keep quiet.

The group moved further into the corn. We moved deeper in response, away from them. I felt we were about 30 feet ahead of them at all times. We stopped, and I listened carefully for them. Any sign would help, but now everything was silent. I looked around for any movement, nothing. Brit and I held tight. Finally after quite a while of cat and mouse, I heard them leaving the field.

"Screw it. I'm not about to get lost in a cornfield looking for some guy that may or may not have any food. If we go back down towards 8, I bet we find easier pickins."

Brit and I knelt, holding our current position. This could be a ruse. Quietly I spoke to the frightened teen. "Just like I thought, they're after food. That's what people are looking for now." Brit was shaking slightly, so I gave her a quick smile. She leaned next to me for something more. As much as she had tried to avoid all human contact so far, as much as she tried to keep me at arm's length to avoid getting attached to me, as much as it was against her sole survival instinct, she let me wrap my right arm around her tiny shoulders. She needed it, there was no denying that any longer. It was only then that I felt her shake ever so slightly. I looked down and confirmed what I had suspected. Brit had been reduced to tears. She was dependent on me for her safety. I wasn't sure that was a very good idea.

"Okay, now listen," I gave her a few minutes to compose herself before speaking. "We're going to sneak out to the edge of the corn in a few minutes and see if they're gone." She shook her head violently, disagreeing. I looked at her firmly. "Yes, we are. We're not going to sit in this corn all night. We're going to get moving again." She was still shaking. She wiped away the last few tears and nodded briefly.

We carefully stepped into the ditch and looked east, or maybe south. I wasn't sure anymore which way the road we were on ran. Either way, we had given the three amigos plenty of time to disappear. They were gone. Slowly I stepped onto the shoulder of the road and signaled for Brit to follow. She still seemed reluctant.

"Where's Buddy?" she whispered from the edge of the corn as she looked up and down the road, as best as a 5-3 girl can see scanning from the safety of the corn. I looked for him as well.

"He'll find us. He just wandered off somewhere. He'll pick up our scent and follow along."

Brit shook her head. "We need him, for protection."

I gave her a sideways glance. "Brit, he's licked the hand of every person I've come across so far. He's not that much protection. Come on, it's getting late. We need to get moving." Finally, she followed me as I started down the road.

We walked another ten minutes before trouble struck again. It seemed to have its sights set on us now. As we rounded a small corner, we could see a large group of people ahead. There seemed to be some type of disturbance. I couldn't tell exactly what was going on, but it looked like trouble. I hung my head and sighed. As I looked back to say something, I noticed Brit was halfway to the corn already. She signaled for me to follow.

"This is awful. We aren't making any progress," I muttered mostly to myself.

Brit turned and whispered to me, "Better safe in the corn than sorry on the road. Let's just sit tight for a while, okay?" She was still frightened from the last encounter. I agreed, it was best for her sanity at least.

We found a bare spot about 75 yards into the corn. We sat on a rock that the farmer had to plant around, so it gave us an open spot to spread things out a little more. Brit seemed more comfortable there than on the road. I stared at her for a while as she rubbed her fingers against the rock.

"We might have to think about nighttime travel," I said. "I don't understand where all these people are coming from. I didn't see this many people with Jake the whole time." Brit seemed almost uninterested in what I had to say. I looked at her more. She didn't look back. "Did you hear me Brit?" She shrugged. For a girl that was in a hurry to get to Grandpa's earlier she seemed awfully content to sit and wait things out now. "What's wrong?" She still looked down.

"I just don't want to walk into any more trouble. That's all." She looked at me. "I don't think I really understood what could have happened to me this morning at the time. You know, when I left my dad's house alone." I listened and tried to agree. She needed to talk. "I don't want any trouble, Bill. I'm scared. I want to play it safe. Is that okay?"

I smiled slightly. "Sure. I understand. I'd rather be safe than sorry, too." She gave me a small smile, but quickly looked down again. "We just need to make time when we can. We only have a limited amount of supplies, so we can't take forever to cover the next six miles. Right?" She nodded unconvincingly. Something was wrong, beside the obvious end of the world stuff. "What wrong, Brit?"

She looked at me, scared. "I don't want anyone to touch me out there. You know, you know what I mean." She looked down and pursed her lips. "I don't want to be left like that on the side of the road to die. I just don't want to die that way." She looked at me, her face streaked with tears. I understood.

"Then we'll just take it easy and not let trouble find us." I spoke more somberly than I intended. She nodded slightly and tried to make a smile, but couldn't. As much as she had tried, she was only able to wear her brave face so long. With each new encounter, she lost a little more bravery. Finally at 3:59 p.m., it ran out. She was simply a scared teenaged girl who wasn't ready to die. I broke the long silence. "You hungry?"

She looked up trying to dry her tears. "Yeah, for a chocolate bar or a bag of chips. You got any of those in that bag of yours?"

I laughed. "No. We got one can of fruit cocktail, one can of pork and beans, two sleeves of saltines and one very warm bottle of water. Any of that strike your fancy?"

She scrunched her nose and shook her head. "No thanks." She looked at the corn around us and then at me; I was doing the same. "Are we going to die out here? You can be honest. We're not going to make it to Luck even, are we?" Her face was void of all expression. I looked at her closely.

"Listen to me, Britney McMahon. We're going to be just fine. Even if we have to crawl through the corn in the middle of the night all the way to Luck, we are going to make it. I'm not going to let you down. That you can count on." I stood on the rock and looked towards the road. "We just need to figure out a way to get around these hunyucks." She laughed at my slang.

We sat until the sun went down. If the breeze blew just right, we could hear the commotion just up the road from time to time. Finally about dusk the breeze and the noise died away. We crept back towards the road, carefully. Brit decided she would hold the cord on the bottom of my backpack to assure she didn't get lost. There was no way I could object to her request. She was holding onto dear life, and her last bit of sanity.

I couldn't see anyone, so we carefully moved forward. It was plenty dark, and the going was slow. We couldn't take a chance of accidently walking up on somebody, anybody ahead on the road. I was afraid that might cause Brit to lose her last straw. That was a chance I couldn't take.

Walking so slowly, we heard every sound around us. Every rustle of the breeze through the corn sounded like a group of people in attack mode. Every bird chirp could be a sign from someone that fresh meat was approaching. Every animal sound made poor Brit jump. The going was way too slow. This was impossible. Finally, I gave up and turned to my travel mate who ran into me in the dark.

"We have to stop for the night. This is way too slow. Sorry." I could see her staring at me in the darkness. "I see a grove of trees up ahead. They appear to be off the road enough to be safe. Is that okay with you?" I saw her head nod. I chuckled. "Brit, I can hardly see your reactions in the dark. Are you okay with stopping and making camp?"

A small voice came from the darkness. "Yes. Can we have a little fire, though? It's so dark out here tonight. I don't like the dark." She sounded on the verge of tears again.

I sighed. "Yeah, sure. Just a small one though. We don't want to attract any attention." I felt her take my hand as we carefully made our way to the trees. Her steps were so tentative there was no way I could have walked quickly into any danger. She took the small steps of a frightened child. I needed to keep reminding myself she was still a child in many ways. Sure, she was 14, but so lost and afraid.

# Chapter 26

The small fire made a world of difference for Brit. She was much happier being able to see the tiny world around our campsite. She even smiled for a little while until a frown came to her one more time.

"What's wrong, Brit?" This whole process was easier for me when she was happy. If I could figure out what changed her moods, I could stay on top of whatever issue bothered her.

"Buddy didn't come back yet." She was right. In our afternoon of avoiding trouble we had lost track of our black furry friend. I looked around doing a quick 360 spin with my head.

"He'll find us by morning, I bet. He's probably hot on our trail already." She sighed, and we ate the last of our food except a sleeve of crackers. That would be breakfast and lunch tomorrow. I hoped it would hold us over until we got to Brit's destination. It had better.

In my backpack, I had an extra-long sleeved shirt and two extra pairs of white socks. Thankfully, I had my sweat top tied around my waist. Now we could perhaps stay warm tonight. I gave Brit my sweatshirt, and I put on the extra shirt. It was still fairly warm, and the fire provided just enough extra heat to keep us toasty. I knew by morning we'd be chilly so extra thought now would maybe, just maybe allow us to get a decent night's sleep.

I gave Brit the two pairs of socks rolled up and told her to use them as a pillow. I knew it was lame, but it was all I had. She leaned against a windfall that had collected some dead leaves over the years and started to drift off. She looked at me one last time before she fell asleep. "Thank you, Bill. I don't think I've said that to you today. But I mean it. I know now what could have happened if you hadn't come along. You and Jake traded a lot for my safety. Thank you." She looked serious saying her sincere thank you.

I looked at her with a smile as warm as our fire. "You're welcome, Brit. Now close your eyes and get some sleep. We want to get to Grandma's tomorrow, so you'll need your energy." She wrapped her arms around her tiny self and drifted away. I watched her for a while. I felt bad for Brit. Her family life left a lot to be desired, and her nasty, feisty disposition told me she was hiding anger and sadness as well. I hoped Grandma and Grandpa were as nice as she was making them out to be. She deserved that much.

I sat back and pulled the map from my back pocket. I knew I wasn't going to like what I found, but I needed to get a good read on just how many more miles remained in my journey. I found our approximate position and started counting the miles in small increments. Eight here, six, here, three there, four there; the miles began to add up quickly.

I got to Stevens Point and stopped. Something had to be wrong with my math, that wasn't the right number. I started again. And again the numbers began to add up quickly. Slowly, I looked up from the map and at the fire. How could this be? I'd been on the road two days. This couldn't be right. I went at the calculations one more time. This time from Stevens Point to my current location. I stopped and cursed out loud. I looked at Brit to make sure I hadn't wakened her. I frowned and shook my head. This was bad.

Three times I added numbers. Three times I got the exact same result. I had worked for two days to travel to my destination. For almost a day and a half I pedaled. After that I, well we, walked. But we kept at it. I thought we had made good progress. Tonight though, I wasn't so sure anymore. With my new course decided, Stevens Point lie 215 miles away. In two days I had traveled 55 miles. I was moving backwards by these numbers. My legs ached more. My back hurt leaning against the rock on the ground that I now found too hard.

I had a problem. Actually, I had many. First, I was still on foot. I needed another bike. Brit and I had spent the afternoon avoiding trouble so I had forgotten about finding new transportation. That was something I needed to remedy right away in the morning. Next, I was low on supplies. Heck, let's be honest, I was almost out of supplies. I had one sleeve of crackers, a half of can of pork and beans and three quarters of a bottle of tepid water. Along with that I had a gun and twenty extra rounds of ammo. Otherwise, except for some basic stuff, I had nothing. I needed to resupply tomorrow, I told myself.

I tried to make myself as comfortable as possible on the ground. The fire had burned down and was a glowing bed of hot embers. I watched the heat radiate up into space as I felt my hope slip away. I needed to make changes in the morning. Positive changes. I resolved to doing just such as I drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

I'm not sure what woke me in the morning. I thought I heard a sound, but upon sitting up and wiping the sleep from my eyes I found nothing. The fire was dead, not even warm. I looked at my pocket watch, 6:12. The sun was up but just barely. No warm rays were reaching us thus far. I felt chilled and damp, just as I had suspected I would.

I looked over at Brit still sleeping soundly. Curled up in a tiny ball, she had her thin arms wrapped around her equally thin legs. She had pulled her bare legs up into the sweat top during the night to keep them warm. She probably wished now she had worn pants instead of shorts during her escape from Dad's house. By tonight that wouldn't matter. She'd be safe and sound, sleeping in a warm bed at her grandparents'. And with any luck I'd be at least half way to my destination. I promised myself I'd make 75 plus miles, come hell or high water.

I got up and stretched. I used a few drips of water to wash the sleep from my face and looked at Brit now stirring on the ground. I wanted to let her sleep as much as possible. She needed that. She'd burnt up a lot of energy between her physical activity and mental anguish. I hoped she hadn't had bad dreams. I would know soon enough as she stirred.

Brit sat up and looked around. Her short brown hair stuck up in a funny way in several spots. I smiled at her as I handed her the bottle of water. She shook the sleep from her head surveying her surroundings.

Finally she looked up at me blinking. "I dreamt I was at my dad's house in my bed. I don't think he was home, but I remember I felt safe." She was chatty already so early in the morning. "But the bed had leaves all over it. Like I was sleeping on a pillow of wet leaves or something." I reached down, pulled a leaf from the back of her head and showed it to her.

"Something like that?"

Finally, she smiled. "Yep. I guess that dream makes sense then, right?"

I glanced around our hiding spot. "I'm not a dream expert, but I'd say your sense of smell dictated that dream at the very least. Smell is one of the most powerful senses."

She stood to stretch. She let out a loud yawn and looked around more. "We're still here I see." She searched for the main road. Finding it she looked back at me for confirmation.

I showed her our spot on the map. "We are just about to this corner." I pointed at the spot where the road to a 90 degree turn north and joined up with Highway 35. "That means we need to cover seven or eight miles today. That should get us to Grandma's house. Four hours tops."

Brit took two crackers from the half-full sleeve. She studied the map carefully as she nibbled on the white, salty meal. "I'm still not 100 percent sure which road they're on, but I think it's 280th Avenue. Just down on the left maybe a mile." She nodded at her own words, she was fairly certain this morning about the road. "Do you think we'll have more trouble on the road today?"

I had already been wondering the same thing. "I haven't heard a thing from the road yet, and I've been awake almost an hour. So that's a good sign."

She looked around. "Yeah, still no Buddy. Sorry." She frowned and looked past me into the woods. "I have to pee." She jumped up and went on the other side of the trees for privacy. I politely turned away. She was back quickly, she didn't want me out of her sight too long. "Toilet paper would be nice. And I wish I had long pants on. My legs got cold last night." She helped pick up the few items lying about, and we packed up for the day. We were hungry, we were thirsty, we were tired, but we were optimistic somehow that day the road would lead us to our desired destination. We hit the blacktop with a new spring in our step.

Twenty minutes later we were once again crouching in a ditch peering out from behind a tree on the side of the road. A group of men stood at the corner of the county road we were on, and the main highway, trying to decide which way they would head. They were maybe 300 yards away, and we had spotted them before they had seen us. I counted six, but Brit was sure there were seven. It didn't matter. They looked like trouble.

One man had some sort of long gun on a sling over his right shoulder. Two others carried bats or some type of hand weapons. Two more were pulling a large cart on wheels. The last thing I wanted to do this morning was duck back into a cornfield. We had spent too much time hiding out like that yesterday. Brit was anxious, on guard. She was convinced we should take to the corn for safety's sake. I told her to hold her ground for now, maybe they would take the other road.

As luck would have it, our bad luck of course, they chose to come straight at us. Once again we ducked into the corn, maybe twenty feet or so. I wanted to be able to hear them as they went by. I needed us to get back on the road once this danger passed. I was not going to spend one more night sleeping in the dirt. We heard them plain as day on the road, speaking amongst themselves.

"If we could have gotten into Luck it would have been great. I heard they've got a nice stockpile of food and water. Bastards. There was just too many of them." Whoever was speaking sounded angry.

"Maybe Balsam Lake will have food." Another man spoke. "No sense in dragging this stupid cart around if we can't find something to fill it with." This man sounded more dejected than anything.

A third voice sounded more positive. "Too bad this is all field corn. If it was sweet corn we could load up on that. I know just how to cook that crap over an open fire. We get fresh corn and another deer, and we'll be set boys." Maybe this was a group of decent men just looking for food. Perhaps they were harmless. One look at Brit's face told me she had no interest in finding out. For now, we remained children in the corn. I chuckled at a lame movie reference.

"You're laughing?" Brit stared at me harshly. "You find this funny?"

I smiled and shook my head. "No, I just find it humorous we find ourselves in the corn again. You know, like that movie? _Children of the Corn_."

She didn't seem to find the humor. "Old people are so weird." I guess she hadn't seen the film.

Within ten minutes we were back on the road. I was half tempted to start singing Willie Nelson's _On the Road Again_ , but I was sure Brit probably wouldn't find that funny either. So I hummed to myself. At least the road seemed clear ahead.

# Chapter 27

After almost an hour of steady walking, we came to the southernmost outskirts of Luck. Brit was quiet most of the way keeping her eyes on the road in front of our position. I knew she'd want to hit the ditch at the first sign of more trouble. I couldn't blame her. We were getting too close to our destination to take any stupid chances. I also noticed she had developed a slight limp on her right side the last half hour. I asked if she was all right.

She waved me off. "My feet are just sore. I'm not used to being on them so much."

Onward we walked. I looked at her footwear. She had on a pair of those open sided hiking sandals that are so popular these days. The type with an opening to let in air and allow water to flow right through. They seemed sensible enough. Perhaps her feet were just sore.

As we got closer to Luck, we saw a few more young people on the road. Some were headed north, like us, but most were headed south. I must admit that something bothered me about the people headed in the southerly direction. They looked miserable, unhappy. A few said things like, "I wouldn't go that way" and "Turn around if you know what's good for you." But no one stopped and explained what might be going on to our north.

Brit stopped at a crossroad and looked west. "That building down there is a store. Maybe they're open. Can we see?"

I didn't think anything was open anymore, even in the town of Luck. "I don't think so. I don't see anyone there. We should stick to the road and stay on course."

She was already heading west, ignoring me. "Come on. I could kill for a treat." Reluctantly I followed.

We stood together in the parking lot and stared at the dark interior. It was a store, just as Brit had said. But it didn't look open. Brit walked over and pulled on the door. To my surprise, it opened. She smiled and nodded for me to follow.

"Brit, let's be careful."

She was looking inside. "Are you open?" She spoke to someone I couldn't see.

I heard a woman's voice reply. "Sure sweetie. Come on in." Okay, they were open.

Inside the store was dark, I expected as much. The shelves looked somewhat picked over, but there was still a number of items remaining. Maybe this was a good thing. I gazed at the woman behind the counter. She seemed to be alone.

"I hope you don't mind me asking, but I find it odd that you're open," I said. "I would have thought you'd be all locked up or at least looted to the bare walls. But you still have some stuff left."

She smiled nicely. "Most travelers don't know we're here. They think it's just another empty building. I've stayed open to help the community." She stood and walked over by the counter. "Joshua has me well protected over there." She pointed to a single man sitting on a stool in the far corner of the store. Cradled in his arms was a shotgun. She was protected alright. "You and your daughter don't look like you intend to do me any harm. I saw you coming. So Joshua can just stay put. If you were a single man or a large group, you would have been met by him at the door." Her explanation made sense.

"It's nice to see someone again with a sense of community. It warms my heart."

She seemed indifferent to my compliment. Perhaps we'd find out just how large her sense of community was when we went to pay for our items.

"Where are you two headed?" She was back on her stool behind the counter. If I had to guess I would put her age at 70, maybe an old 65. She was rail thin with short silver hair. She lit a cigarette as she chatted.

"Up north of Luck. Another three or four miles. Almost to Frederic. Roads clear?"

She frowned when I said north. Something told me she had bad news. Brit approached with a bag of chips, a sleeve of cookies, and a warm can of pop.

"Can I get these, Dad?" She stared at me as she spoke. She'd heard the storekeeper's mistake and got the fact that I hadn't corrected her.

I smiled at her. "Sure." I grabbed a half dozen or so granola bars. I also grabbed a warm can of orange pop. We carefully approached the counter.

The woman came forward. "There's trouble just north of here. Word has it Centuria has burned to the ground. Pretty much the whole darn town." Centuria was maybe eight miles back to the south. "A lot of people came north hoping they could get refuge in town. The first ones found Luck's citizens receptive. But then too many showed up." She wrote numbers on the pad of paper on the counter as she spoke. "So they put up barricades to keep strangers out. Not too popular. So, a lot of angry people turned south back towards Balsam Lake and St. Croix Falls. Some have decided to stay and fight, though." She added the short column of numbers.

"Can we get through town?" I didn't want to waste any more time going around if I could just push through. The storeowner finally looked up at us.

"If you were alone I'd say maybe." She shook her head at me in particular. "But with your little girl here, you'd be safer going around. She's too cute to slip through. Might bring extra unwanted attention to the pair of you." She looked down at her paper again. "That'll be ten dollars, including tax."

I smiled. She was the last honest sole on earth. I handed her a twenty. "Keep the change."

She gave me a happy look and stuffed the money in an old cigar box.

"You think the government will be coming anytime soon to collect their sales tax?"

Her brown eyes twinkled as she looked up. "If they do, I'll have a good record for them. The last thing I want is for the power to come back on and have them hounding me for their money." She was almost too good to be true.

"So what do you recommend for a route around Luck then?" I set my map on the counter.

She drew a new route. "Go back down to 240th Avenue. Take that west one mile to 170th Street. Then turn north. Take 170th two miles north to 260th Avenue. Do not turn east on 250th. That will bring you right back into the mess up town. Turn east, left, on 260th for a mile. That brings you back to 35 on the north side of town. You'll be safe that way. Probably won't see anyone." She winked at Brit.

"If we could go straight through town, 260th is about a mile and a half up, right?" She nodded. "Going around?"

She tried to smile but didn't. "Four, four and a half miles. But, your daughter will be much safer that way." I got her point loud and clear. I think Brit did as well. "How far up you headed on 35?"

"280th, we think. Can't remember exactly. Been a while since we've been there. We'll know when we get there."

She went and sat back on her stool. "Well, you got a little more than six miles to cover then. If you hustle, you should be there in three hours. Good luck." She picked up the magazine she had been reading before we arrived. This was our cue to leave. We put our extra items in the backpack once outside and headed south, the direction we had just come from.

Backtracking only took a little more than fifteen minutes, and we stood at the corner of 240th. We headed west on our new path. As predicted, we didn't see many people once we got off the main road. Occasionally we would walk by a house plopped on a lot in the middle of the country and see people milling about. Strangely, everyone seemed to keep to themself. There was the occasional wave of a hand or nod of a head, but no one came and approached us to talk. That was fine with me. Brit's quietness told me it was fine with her, too. After a while I looked at my travel companion.

"You okay?" She nodded but only just a little. Her focus was on the road ahead. "You're just kind of quiet all of a sudden. Something spook you?"

She stopped and looked down the road. Finally she turned and looked up. "I don't like the talk of fighting. I don't understand it. I don't get what's going on. It doesn't make any sense to me. It's like a bunch of people have turned into big assholes like my dad. My other dad, not you." She stared at me.

Maybe she needed a simple explanation on the second part of her comment. "I didn't correct her because I didn't want to have to explain about us. Some people might get funny about a single man traveling with a teenage girl who wasn't his daughter. Start asking all kinds of stupid questions that I may or may not have decent answers for. Especially when one side has a gun, makes me kind of nervous." Brit expression was unchanged. "What was I supposed to say? Oh, she's not my daughter. She's a complete stranger I met 24 hours ago." I looked to Brit for some kind of sign this was sinking in.

She stared down the road again. "Not that. That's fine, I get it. I even played along. Did you catch that?" She smiled up at me, finally. She seemed proud to have been paying attention to something that others may have missed. "I want to know what's wrong with people."

For that, I had no easy explanation ready. "I think people are mostly scared now. It's been three weeks. Money's gone, food's gone, fresh water is in short supply, I suppose. There seems to be no protection out here. People are scared. Scared for their lives."

Brit took a deep breath before she spoke again. "I'm scared Bill. I'm really scared."

"What scares you most, Brit?"

She continued the eye contact.

"I'm scared of someone killing you and raping me. Someone using me and I end up dead or pregnant. Who's going to take care of me then? I don't want to be 14 and pregnant like my mom. And I don't want to die. I don't think I want you to die either." Tears started to flow from her narrowed eyes. "Three weeks ago, I was just a kid looking to have fun. Now, every minute of every day I'm scared. I'm sick of being scared. How long is this going to last?" She started to cry in earnest. I stepped closer to her, but she pushed me away. I watched her tiny body leaped with sobs. She'd been brave long enough. Her real emotions came to the surface.

I watched carefully as Brit tried to compose herself. It had not occurred to me that she was a child in a young adult's wrapping. But that's exactly what she was. Old enough to understand the real dangers we were facing, and young enough to want to keep on living. The only problem was the life she had been living was gone. And I had no idea when it may come back, if ever.

"I'm scared too, Britney. I'm scared I'll never see my family again. I'm scared the future will be even worse. I'm scared because we're low on food, low on water. I'm scared I'll be dead before I get to Milwaukee. I'm scared this is all for nothing. That I drop you off with your grandparents and end up dead ten minutes later." Her sobs subsided.

She stepped closer to me and felt for my hand, a human touch. "I didn't know. I thought I was the only one scared. I thought everyone else was being so brave." She spoke, still clutching my hand tightly. "I'm sorry."

I laughed, at myself mostly. "Don't be sorry. There's nothing to be sorry for." Finally, she nodded and let go of my hand. When people are scared, human contact helps. We were both very human at this moment. "We'll make it, Brit. We'll get there. I'll get you there all in one piece. Okay?"

She smiled and wiped away the last of her tears. "I believe you. You know that right?"

I nodded slightly. We started walking down the road.

"I've never believed anything my mom or dad told me," she said, "but I believe you, Bill."

I felt her take my hand again and squeeze it tightly. She wasn't letting go anytime soon. That was okay.

# Chapter 28

Within an hour, we were cowering in the corn again. I was getting mighty sick of corn. I hated the green leaves that sliced at you, I hated the stalks that tried to trip you on every step, I hated its denseness that allowed no air to circulate. I just plain hated corn. But it was our only safe haven.

Shots had rung out up ahead on the road. We didn't bother to debate or take a vote about whether to go investigate or take cover. We sprinted ten feet into the only cover for miles around. And again we started the waiting game. We knelt, and Brit spoke softly. "How many bullets do we have?"

She evidently was worried again. I couldn't blame her given what we had just heard. I dug the gun out of my pocket.

"Ten in the gun. Another box of twenty in the backpack. Hopefully we don't need any, right?"

Her eyes showed uncertainty. "Maybe we should dig out some extras and put them in our pockets. So they're handier, just in case." She gave me a wanton look, eyes open wide. I agreed and opened the pack. I dug deep down to retrieve the box from the bottom where it had sank to yesterday. I felt nothing. Nothing but granola bars and an extra bag of chips. She stared at me.

"What?" Her voice was quiet, but scared. I shook my head and thought back.

"Damn it. I took them out and set them on top of the trashcan outside of the store. When I got rid of the trash from the pack. I must have left them there." My stomach sank. Were we really reduced to ten shots?

She looked more scared. "It's my fault. We should have never stopped at that store. We should have kept going." Brit began to whimper again.

I quickly caught her focus. "Nope. My fault. I was careless. Really." She stopped whimpering. "We'll be okay. Haven't used any yet. Probably won't need to shoot at all I bet." She nodded at that idea. "And we needed the food, Brit. So it was a good idea we stopped. All your idea." That perked her spirits back up. I looked around. "Let's give this ten more minutes to play out. If it's quiet for ten minutes, we'll sneak back on the road and keep moving. If we hear anything we'll stay put." She agreed instantly.

More shots rang out just a few minutes later followed by screams, awful screams. Someone was dying, dying on the road up ahead. The road we needed to travel. Brit sat back on her knees and started to cry. I felt like doing the same. We had to stay put, for a while at least. I looked at my watch, 12:14. It was going to be another long day out here.

At 3 o'clock, we finally agreed it was safe to go back to the road. We hadn't heard much since just after 1 o'clock. Every time I suggested we try, Brit frantically grabbed at me and begged for another ten minutes. After six episodes, she finally nodded her agreement. We slid carefully back to the side of the road and slowly moved forward. For the amount of commotion we had heard, there was nothing discernibly wrong ahead. Slowly we picked up the pace. About a half-mile down the road we came to a small crossroad where a dirt road dissected 170th. There we found death.

About ten yards in the dirt to the east lay three people. Two men and one small child. They were dead, that was obvious. I told Brit not to look. The men appeared to be about my age. They were dirty and covered in blood. They lay face down in the dust. Between them lay the child, a girl, perhaps my daughter's age. She was laying on her back with a single gunshot wound through the forehead. If it weren't for the obvious wound, she almost could be sleeping it appeared. But she was dead, they were all dead.

Brit stood next to me eyes riveted upon the close by death. She sniffed several times as she squinted at the scene that made no sense. I couldn't tell what had happened, I only knew the results of the altercation.

I looked for any further blood on the road. Any sign that someone else may have been wounded and tried to move along. I found none. Whatever had happened was over. Trouble had moved on. I took the pistol from my pocket and held it in my right hand. I reached back and took Brit's small right hand with my left. This time she accepted my grasp without any reluctance. We moved slowly, silently away from the somber scene. One neither of us would ever forget.

I could feel Brit's hand shaking as we slowly moved ahead. I needed to say something, anything that may comfort the trembling teen. But my mind was as blank as a painter's bare canvas. Nothing I could say could begin to explain what may have happened back there.

Finally her quiet voice filled the emptiness. "She didn't have to suffer, did she?"

I followed her thinking. I squeezed her hand a little tighter, watching the road in front of us carefully. "No. Death would have been instantaneous for her. She never suffered a bit once she was shot. She was gone from this world before her body hit the dirt." I wasn't sure that helped. But it was all I had for her.

"Good." Brit either nodded or shook. I couldn't tell. "Good. I'm glad she didn't have to suffer."

We walked on quietly. We saw no one on the road now. Maybe the gunshots had scared everyone else away. Maybe Brit and I were the only people stupid enough to keep going with death all around. We kept moving. Within another hour, we were back on Highway 35, just as we had been promised.

"Okay, another mile or two, and we'll be up to 280th." I looked at the somber teen next to me on the road. "Can you make it another hour?" She nodded. "Want anything to eat?"

She shook her head. "I just want to get there. That's all now. I just want to get there. I want this to be over."

I patted her right shoulder and smiled at her. "Me too. Me too."

We walked forward down the home stretch. At 6:15 that evening we stood at the crossroads of Highway 35 and 280th Avenue, just south of Frederic. Brit paced back and forth from side to side across 35. She looked confused.

"You said to the left, right?" She gave me a puzzled look. "Left, correct?" She looked left, which was west. Then she spun and looked east.

She screwed up her mouth and looked left, west, again. "It doesn't look right. Neither way looks right. There should be a purple house on the corner. I know that for a fact."

I looked west. There were three houses a ways down the road. I then looked east, only two in sight. None were purple.

"Do any of those houses look familiar to you, Brit? Like it might be your grandma's house?"

She shook me off. "No. Their driveway is lined by trees. Big tall pine trees. Lots of them." She looked east again. I could see panic setting in.

"Okay. Let's head west a ways then. Maybe something will look familiar when we get further down the road. When we come to the next crossroad, that's a mile. If you don't see anything you recognize, we'll turn around and go back to the east." She nodded a tiny bit but unconvincingly. I looked straight at her. "No big deal. We'll find the place, Brit. We will."

We headed west. In twenty minutes we could see the crossroad to the west. This direction was a bust. Nothing even close, according to Brit. Slowly, we turned and trudged back to the east. I tried to keep Brit's spirits up, but to be honest I wasn't feeling too up myself. We mostly walked in silence.

Storm clouds gathered in the western sky. They had been trying to all afternoon. We either needed to find Grandma's house or we needed to find shelter from the storm and the rain it would bring. Being cold and tired sleeping outdoors is one thing. Being cold and tired and wet and sleeping outdoors was a path I wanted to avoid. Needed to avoid. I kept my thoughts to myself as we started down the east road.

Within thirty minutes, we stopped in the middle of the road. Brit was doing circles looking at everything. She shook her head constantly. We were lost. We were lost, and nightfall was coming. And a storm. I wanted to scream at her, shake her, make her understand the gravity of this situation. But none of that would have helped. She was lost and the whole world knew it.

"Are you sure it was 280th?" I finally had to say something, anything to get her back on task.

She looked at me scared, actually frightened. "No, I'm not sure. I was never sure. It was Jake who thought it was 280th. I just knew it was south of Frederic. One of the last roads before the main highway turns a little east. This is what he thought I meant." She brought her right hand to her forehead and squeezed. "But I don't know." She screamed her last sentence. Not really at me but at the world that seemed to be watching her suffer. Tears started again. I moved close to her against my better judgment.

"Brit," I started calmly, hands held up in front of my chest. A sign of peace, and protection in case she lashed out at me. "We need to call it a day. Night is coming and rain will be here any minute. It's going to get too dark to see anything real soon. So we need to find shelter."

Her head and shoulders drooped. She was defeated. "I'm such an idiot. I'm so stupid. Just like my dad says. I'm just a stupid little girl. That's all I'll ever be."

I grabbed her hand and started back down the road. I could set her straight later, right now we needed to find somewhere to get in from the rain. I walked quicker than we had before, dragging Brit behind. "Come on. You're not stupid. We're just a little lost. We'll figure it out in the morning. I'm sure we will." I felt the first drops of rain, now I could smell it coming. We hustled more.

"That's what you said this morning. And all I did today was get us lost and lose your ammo." She was sinking, but I didn't have time to deal with it this moment. We made tracks for the closest farmhouse.

As we started up the driveway a man came outside and greeted us. "I saw you go past, now you're back. Better get inside before the rain starts." He seemed nice enough, friendly at least. He was maybe 50, tall – probably 6-4 – clean shaved and was offering shelter. I saw a small boy standing in the doorway waiting his father's return. I encouraged Brit along. I told her it looked safe. She reluctantly agreed. We made it to the porch just as the downpour began. Maybe our luck was changing.

Inside, the house was neat and warm. Several kerosene lamps lit the interior. The boy opened the door for us, and we sprinted in from the water falling in buckets from the sky. This was the first good thing to happen to us recently, with the exception of the store being opened.

The man shook my hand. "Hi, I'm John. This is Trevor." He pointed at his son. Maybe ten years old. Trevor smiled and stood next to his father.

"I'm Bill and this is Brit."

John smiled at both of us. All was good. I could just feel it. I took off my pack and looked for a place to lay it down. John watched me.

"Why don't you just put that on the chair by the front door. That way you'll know where it is in the morning."

I grinned. John was quite the host. I walked back to the front hall and placed the pack on the chair. I thought for a moment. This was the right thing to do, right? This wasn't a problem, right? I shook my head.

Walking back into the dining room I watched as John and Brit made their way into the kitchen. He had mentioned something about making dinner and thought Brit might want to help. I guess John would learn quickly about the moody teen. I should warn him, I thought briefly. Nah, he had a son. He knew kids.

Trevor disappeared past me and into the living room. He called out from the void. "Does Brit like to play games? I've got checkers and chess. Maybe she'll like battleship. That's my favorite."

I laughed to myself. "I'm not sure she's much on games, Trevor." I started for the kitchen. "I'll go ask her if she'd like to join you." He seemed like a nice kid. Maybe, just maybe after days and days of being on guard I could finally relax here. The thought of it sent a warm feeling through me.

Standing in the doorway of the kitchen I saw John, at his gas stove warming up something in a saucepan. In another larger kettle I could see he had some water boiling. Sensing my presence he turned and smiled.

"I thought we'd have some spaghetti for dinner. Sound good?" I nodded. It sounded great. "Bill, I've poured you a glass of brandy. It's over on the counter by Brit. Help yourself." John went back to stirring his sauce, whistling some tune as he did.

I stood by Brit and smelled the oaky flavor of the liquor. Truth be told, I wasn't much of a drinker. But after the last few days on the road, it held a certain appeal I had to admit. I took a sip and choked. John laughed out loud.

"Oh, this is some pretty stiff stuff, John." He looked at me with his medium blue eyes and smiled.

"I like it to have a little bite. I don't remember where I got this last batch. I have several friends down south that make it for me. It's their own special blend."

He went back to stirring his sauce and I took another, more careful, sip. I glanced at Brit. She sat quietly on a stool about as far away from John as she could. I remembered Trevor's request.

"Say, Brit," I started. "Trevor has a game set up in the living room if you are interested. Might be fun." She gave me a look I hadn't seen before. A look of serious concern. Her right index finger moved back and forth across her lips as she glanced back and forth between John and myself. Finally, she rose.

"Sure." Her response was short and quiet. She stared at me harshly and nodded her head towards the kitchen door. I looked away and shook my head before looking back at her with a puzzled expression. She repeated the gesture. She left her stool, went to the dining room doorway and repeated it one more time. I shrugged and followed. What could she possibly want now?

I followed her to the far corner of dining room. "What?" I asked quietly. She grabbed the collar of my shirt and pulled my head towards the floor.

Cautiously, quietly she whispered in my right ear. "We need to get out of here. Something's not right." I shook my head.

"You always think something's wrong. You need to relax. We're fine." She shook her head and looked deep into my eyes.

"No, this guys all wrong. Something tells me this is a bad place. We need to get out of here. Now." She lightly pushed me away and stared as if she expected me to do something. Just what, I had no idea.

I looked towards the living room. "You go hang out with Trevor for a little bit. I'll try to feel John out, alone. Did he touch you or something?" She shook her head.

"No, just the way he looked at me. And asked how old I was. And if I liked boys or men." Her eyes gave me a telling look. Alarm bells rang inside my head.

"Let me work on it. If this place is wrong, we're out of here. But I'd really like to have supper first." I smiled but got nothing in return. Something about John spooked Brit badly.

Brit went to search for Trevor and I stepped for the kitchen. A thought struck me and I stopped in place. Turning for the entryway, I retrieved the gun from my backpack. I looked at the cold black weapon and closed my eyes. Did I really need to resort to this? Is this what I have become? A man that brandishes a gun every time it even smelled like trouble. Carefully I placed the gun in my right front pocket. I looked down and shook my head. What had I become?

# Chapter 29

I again stood in the doorway of the kitchen, watching John. He had just finished topping off my drink. He smiled my way.

"Thought you needed a refill." He held his glass up to me. "You know, a man hates to drink alone." He walked my full glass over to me.

I gave a faux smile and looked at the light brown beverage. Something, somewhere in the far reaches of my mind told me not to drink anymore of the substance. "So John, tell me about yourself." He returned to the stove and dropped noodles into the boiling water.

His head moved slightly as he spoke. "Not much to tell. Retired businessman. Father, widower, gentleman farmer now. Pretty simple life. Especially with the power gone." He looked at me again. His eyes seemed all wrong now. "What about you?" Maybe I was reading this wrong. Perhaps, Brit spooked me needlessly. "What about your daughter?" My stomach tightened.

I smiled another fake smile. "Oh, not much for us either. Just regular boring people from Woodbury. That's just east of downtown St. Paul." He nodded like he knew where I was speaking of. "I'm a school counselor. She's a student. Her mother works at a small business as a bookkeeper. Pretty standard life in the suburbs I suppose." John turned and looked at me, holding his glass up and taking another sip. I copied his movements, careful not to take in any of the liquid. A bitter taste found my lips. Different from the oaky taste of the first few sips.

"Well, she's a mighty cute girl. Must be hard to keep her out of trouble out on the road all alone." John sounded sincere, but I didn't like something in his bare stare at the floor. He looked up at me again. "How old is she again?" My stomach knotted.

"Thirteen." I lied on purpose to gauge his reaction. His head nodded slowly as a small grin crossed his lips. An evil grin, in my mind. Now he stared at me coldly.

"Is she even your daughter?" He shrugged. I didn't like that; his movements were odd, out of place. "You know," he took a step in my direction, "a decent man would share a find like that." His eyes flared. "Doesn't seem right to keep her all for yourself." He wasn't holding back any longer. My face got tense, my eyes narrowed. Each breath came hard. I set the glass down on the nearest counter and felt my pocket.

"I think we're going to leave, John." My dark mood matched his.

He shook his head. "Nah, I think you should stay. Her at least." I watched as he picked up a larger knife from the counter. I could feel my heartbeat in my fingertips. I pulled the gun from my pocket and pointed at him.

"No, we're leaving." I took a large step towards the doorway. "Brit," I called out, "let's go. Time to leave." John grinned.

"You go back out in the rain. That's fine with me. I'll give you a nice head start." He set the knife down as Brit walked into the kitchen and gasped. His eyes narrowed as he stared at his prey. He licked his lips, twice. I felt Brit take my hand. "I know every inch of this county. I will find you." His words were the darkest I had ever heard from a human being.

"Just remember who has the gun, John." It didn't even sound like my voice as the words came out. I looked at the gun in my hand, extended in John's direction. I could see it shake ever so slightly. Something he noticed as well.

"Good luck out there, you two." He dumped the sauce in the trash. No doubt he had drugged that too. "Try to be nice to people and get treated like crap in return. When am I going to learn?" He smiled one more evil smile, mostly at Brit. She pulled on my hand.

We dashed past Trevor and out the front door. The rain was heavy, but we had no choice. I heard John call out as we ran back for the road.

"Pair of idiots in the rain. I should kill you now, Bill. Save you the agony of dying of pneumonia." I turned and saw the gun in his hand. I fired my weapon, wildly, missing John by a good 15 feet and striking his front window. The glass exploded and I saw John flinch, finally.

We found a small grove of pine trees down a side road probably a half-mile from John's House of Horrors. This would have to do for the night, I told myself. We dug into the brush as far as we could. It was wet inside but less direct rainfall reached us. Brit sat next to me crying, heaving with sobs. I hugged her more out of instinct than anything else. Things kept getting worse by the minute. Hope was vanishing so fast I couldn't keep up.

The rain came down harder outside our hiding spot. Almost as hard as it had a few days back when I found refuge in the barn with Jake. Inside our hiding spot, only a few occasional drops fell on us. A fire would be nice but out of the question. We had to stay hidden as much as we could from outsiders, mostly John. I didn't want anyone to see us deep inside this cover.

Brit finally quit crying. She sniffed a few times and looked around our shelter. I saw her nod a few times as she gave her silent approval. We couldn't see more than five feet from where we sat. There was no way anyone could find us unless we made a critical mistake. I didn't plan on making a mistake. I was quite sure Brit would just sit silently, all night if she must.

"We're safe here, Brit." I had to say something. She sniffed several times and looked up at me with her dark eyes. She wiped away some tears. A few drops of rain fell on her tiny face.

"We're going to die here. We're dead people." She sniffed several more times before continuing. "I didn't want to admit it before, I didn't even want to think it. But let's face it, we're dead."

I stared at her. "I'm not giving up. Not that easily. I plan on getting you to your grandparent's house safe and sound. I promised you that much. I plan on keeping my promise." She looked down and started sobbing. She had other worries.

The rain came down heavier. Even in our pine fortress, the water began to seep in all around us. First, a few drops from above then a small stream ran under our feet. We were wet, miserable, and alone in the storm. Our only hope was that John hadn't followed us because of the rain.

For more than an hour, we sat silently as the rain fell. Every time I thought it was letting up, it rained even harder. Finally, hunger set in. I reached for my pack and the last of the saltines. There weren't many left, but they would suffice. I looked left, then right – nothing. I looked behind us. Zero, no pack. That's when it hit me.

"Damn it," I swore out loud. "That asshole has our pack. Crap." Frustration set in as I thought of our alternatives. Slim and none were our choices. We couldn't go back for the pack. This meant we'd be hungry tonight, and mighty low on ammo if we had to use the gun. Brit looked at me horrified.

"We're dead. We have no food, no water, no supplies. And if we get in a gunfight we only have, what? Eight shots?" She searched for answers to an awful problem. I frowned.

"Ten shots. The clips still full." I felt a little better.

"You mean nine, right? You shot out his front window. Remember?" I cringed. Brit was right.

Down to nine. I shook my head and laughed, water ran off my nose. "Did you see that window explode? And John's reaction? It looked like he was going to crap his pants."

Brit finally smiled, but only a small smile. "That was so loud. I thought my eardrums were going to explode." She watched the rainfall around us for several minutes before continuing. "Bill? What's your family like?"

I looked at the darkness closing in from all sides. My family. I hadn't said much about them to Brit. I wanted to keep our lives completely separate. That seemed silly at this point. We were in this together, deep in this mess.

"Sharon's my age, 38. She's tall and thin and beautiful. She has long, thick brown hair. When she laughs, her eyes twinkle. I love that twinkle." I could feel Brit leaning harder against me, almost trying to absorb my words through my wet clothes. "We've been married ten years. Mostly good, some not so good; lately I suppose." My face tightened. "Hard to say who's fault it is. We've fought a lot the last bit. I don't listen, she doesn't listen, just the usual crap. I can tell you this though," Brit looked at me closely, "I miss her a lot right now. Her and the kids are mostly what I've thought of out here. All of us making it to Bayfield safely." I smiled. "All that other stuff doesn't matter now. Just seeing my family again is all I need. All I want." Brit wiped a mosquito off my left arm, my wet left arm.

"And you have two kids, too?" She'd paid closer attention than I had thought.

"Rita is eight. She looks just like her mother, when she was younger at least. Same long dark hair and beautiful eyes. Thin as a rail. And smart. Probably the best in her class." I carefully thought of my daughter for a few seconds, how I missed her ever-present smile, her nice hugs and kisses goodnight. "She has all her mother's good qualities and none of the bad. In Rita's eyes, I can do no wrong. Sharon's eyes, well not so much." I smiled, not necessarily at Brit, but I smiled.

"And your son?"

"Dustin's six. Just a regular six-year-old. All boy, all the time. He loves sports and X-box and just being alive." My heart ached as I thought of my children so many miles away. "He has blond hair. I suppose he gets that from my side. Some of my brothers are blond. So was I when I was younger. Little, skinny, all boy. Skinned knees, elbows and all. Loves our dog more than any of us." My heart fell further as I thought of Buddy. How long had it been now? Two days since he wandered off? I hoped he was okay, still alive.

Brit brought me back to the present. "Do you think you'll ever see your family again, Bill? You know, not what you hope for, but what you really think. Be honest. Are you ever going to see them again?" Brit was trying to deal with reality however she could. She wanted my honesty, she needed it.

I felt a lump in my throat and tears pooled in my eyes. "No I don't, Britney. Right now, right here, I don't have any hope of that left. I was stupid to think I could ever get to Milwaukee much less Bayfield. Just how the hell are we supposed to do that? On foot much less." Honesty hurt, I felt Brit squeeze a little tighter into me. "I was an idiot to leave Woodbury, my home. May as well die there as die out here on the road. Only a fool does something like this. I guess Sharon's been right about me all along. I'm nothing more than a fool in a grown man's body." Darkness formed inside my spirit matching the almost black night around us.

"But what about me? If you hadn't come along, what would have happened to me? I might have been pawned off to the highest bidder, you know. You saved me from that." Brit tried to smile at me, but I shook my head in disgust.

"Don't be a child, Brit. Don't think like that. This is bad. This is real bad. If we don't get somewhere soon we are going to die – soon." She tightened her lips and looked down. "And what's to say when we get somewhere it's not as bad as this? We could be jumping from the frying pan straight into the fire." She pushed away from me and looked off from my gaze. I grabbed her shoulder and spun her around, quickly, scaring her. "All we have left in the world right now is the clothes on our backs and a pistol with nine shells. It's gone from bad to worse and now to tragic. You'd been better off never leaving your father's house, never meeting me at all."

She looked harsh; tears streaking her face intermixed with rain. "All I have left right now is YOU," she screamed, lashing out at me with her tiny fists. "You! You alone!" She heaved again with sobs. "My dad beats me. He hits me with his fists and whips me with a belt. I have the scars on my back to prove it. My mother is a crack whore, Bill. She screws the 65-year-old landlord for her half of the rent most months. The half my grandfather doesn't pay." She grabbed my collar tightly, clenching it in her fists. "Do you have any idea how awful it is for a young girl to lie in bed at night and have to listen to that? It's gross, it's disgusting. That's no way for anyone to live." She stood and looked down at me seriously. "You think we're dead now? Welcome to my life, Bill. I've been walking around dead for as long as I've been alive. I'm an aid check from the county for those two worthless pieces of crap they call my parents. I've wished I was dead so many times I've lost count. I am dead, Bill. I have been all my worthless life." I rose and looked her in the face. I had an idea things weren't good, but never this bad.

"I'm sorry Britney. I'm so sorry. We'll make it, we'll get there. I'll do whatever it takes. I'll get you there. I promise." She pointed her right index finger and spoke slowly to me.

"All I have ever wanted in life is to have a normal family. That's it, nothing else. You've had that your whole life. After 14 years of hell, it's my turn. It's not fair. Why do other people have it and abuse it? Why can't I be happy? That's all I want. I'm not asking for too much, am I?" She trembled from either sobs, or the rain, or both.

I pulled her in close and held the small teen. I'd dealt with so many children like her over the years, but it was never personal. It was always their problem, their family's problem, the school's problem. Britney McMahon had started off just like the rest of them, not my problem. Get her to Grandma's house and she could be someone else's issue. But now in the darkness, in the rain and flashes of lightning, in a world gone so bad so fast, I realized I was still fooling myself. Britney McMahon, all five-foot-three and ninety pounds of her, was mine to deal with. I was her safety, her security, her provider, her mother, her father, her everything – all wrapped in one neat package. Without me, she would die, maybe even worse. With me, well, she stood a chance. Not a great chance, but at least a chance.

I leaned down and spoke into her ear, as she continued to cry. "Okay, here's the plan. We are going to sit tight right here until the rain lets up. When it does, we are going back on the road. We are going to find your grandparents' place no matter what. Got it?" I felt her nod against my chest. "We're not dying out here. Not yet. We are giving it everything we have from this point forward. We're not going to be negative any more. Only positive." I felt her nod again. "And once we get to where we're headed, we'll figure things out." I gave her a tight hug. I felt better, I was sure she did as well.

As we sat down Brit looked at me again with a troubled expression. "Aren't you worried about that guy, John? Won't he be coming after us?"

I thought for a moment. "Maybe. But not in this rain. He has to wait for it to lighten up, just like us. And he'll never find us in the dark. We'll be gone like a thief in the night." I held up our protection. "And if that doesn't work, I guess hot lead will have to change his mind. Nine shots are plenty to make a man feel pretty unwelcomed."

I could tell that Brit was buying my speech. Heck, even I believed the words. Brit gasped and looked up.

"I think I remember the road. Like 290th or something like that. We're close right?"

"Yeah, maybe a mile to the west and another to the north. Once we get out of this current spot we should be able to get there in a couple of hours. We just need to avoid John." I sighed deeply. My pity party had left as quickly as it had come. "Brit, what made you think of their address in the middle of all this?"

I knew she was smiling, I could just tell. "I work pretty good under stress. Kind of a product of my upbringing. If your dad is going to slap you because he can't find his cigarettes in a drunken stupor, you get pretty quick at thinking on your feet." She was quiet for a moment and then looked up. "I don't ever want to see him again, my dad. Or my mom. But she might be at Grandma's already. But I hope not."

I understood. This was a chance for Brit to start anew.

# Chapter 30

The heavy rain continued all night. When the downpours slowed somewhere in the middle of the darkness, I couldn't wake Brit. She was exhausted from the last several days. I decided to let her sleep. That's what she needed most at this time.

I was glad she didn't wake up because within ten minutes the rains came again. The amount of moisture that the storm released was amazing. It had to have rained over two inches during the night. As morning's first light broke in the eastern sky and darkness gave up begrudgingly, the rain kept up. There was just too much of it to head back on the road. We would have to stay put for a while.

About 11 o'clock, Brit roused briefly. She was soaked and still sleepy. She cried a little as she realized our predicament. I knew she wanted desperately to get going, but weather was not cooperating. I wound the watch and realized I had forgot to do so the previous day. I set it a half hour ahead to make up for time it might be losing. I had nothing else to do in the rain; playing with the watch at least kept me entertained for a while. A man can only watch it rain so long before he goes crazy. Three hours was my max.

Shortly after 1 o'clock, I saw movement on the main road some eighty yards away. It looked like a group of people. I relaxed as the last of them passed and moved east. What were they doing out in weather like this? Apparently road bandits deserve or need no rest. I thought of the old saying, "No rest for the wicked." How true. Now if they could just take care of their wicked neighbor John, things might start to look up.

A loud clap of thunder woke Brit about an hour later. She sat up and surveyed our surroundings. We were both soaked all the way through by this time. The only thing that wasn't wet was the seat of my pants. I'd been sitting, on guard, so long and the rain hadn't reached that exact spot, not yet at least. Brit looked up at me sorrowful.

"Do we have anything to eat? Anything?" I shook my head at her. I couldn't bear to look at her face. She sounded so sad. "Is this rain ever going to let up?" I shrugged. I didn't have any answers. She scrunched her nose and looked closely at me. "Are you mad at me?"

"Of course not." Why would she think that?

"You aren't answering me very well."

She had a point. "I just don't have anything good to report yet. No food miraculously appeared overnight, the sky is still dark in the west, it's been raining cats and dogs for hours, and we're both as miserable as two humans can be. Did I get it all?"

She shook her head and pouted. "We're still alive. That must count for something."

I leaned back. "Yes we are, Brit. Yes we are." I stared at the road. I thought I caught movement in my peripheral vision. I stared hard at the spot I had seen movement. A small deer walked down the dirt road next to us in the rain. I lifted my gun. Maybe we'd have dinner. Brit pulled at my arms.

"No. Not some little Bambi. That's not right." I guess she wasn't starved enough yet for me to kill what she viewed as innocence in this crazy world. Maybe another twelve hours would change her mind. We probably didn't need to give away our position to anyone who might be out there either. Like anyone was out in this storm. Well, except the road bandits.

Shortly after 4 o'clock, the rain let up enough to think about moving. With a lot of light still left in the day we would have to stick to the cornfields and its edges for safety. This meant getter wetter, if that was possible. We stood and carefully plotted our surroundings. The main road was a few minutes walk to our north. We could sneak along the west edge of the cornfield nearest us and take a peek on 280th, the main road. If it was clear we could carefully stay in the ditch and make our way back to the main highway, 35. I thought about it hard, we were at least a mile down to the east of 35. God only knows what we'd find when we got to that road.

We carefully retraced our steps out of our hiding spot. I found it amazing that the pines were hardly wet with rain. Now, the brush in the ditch was an entirely different story. It didn't matter, though, we were wet as wet could be. We stood on the dirt road, now mud, silently and examined carefully in all directions. We started cautiously for 280th and had gone ten yards when we saw movement ahead. Back into the brush we scampered. I peered out from our hiding spot. It was the same group of idiots I had seen earlier. Like it or not, we had to stay put for a while longer.

"I saw them earlier, while you were still sleeping," I whispered as I watched them congregate at the corner of the two roads. "I had hoped they just kept going east. Probably isn't much down that way, though. I suppose they don't want to get too far off of 35." Brit was unresponsive. Nothing had changed while she slept. Just the day on the calendar.

"I'm so wet," she whined as I watched the group choose their path. "I wish I had a pair of pants instead of these stupid shorts." She came over and knelt in front of me to watch the group decide their fate. "My feet hurt. I think I have something in my shoes." We took our previous spots and stared at one another. I motioned to her.

"Let's see them then. We have nothing but time." She slipped off her sandal and lifted her right foot to my hands. I saw the issue immediately.

"You've got several small cuts on the bottom of this foot. Let me see the other one." She repeated the process with her left foot. Same thing. With the open design on the sides of these shoes small rocks and other items had made their way between the sole of her foot on the padding in her shoe. These irritants had caused blisters that had now erupted, and her feet were raw and starting to get bloody in several spots. I looked at her closely.

"You'll have to take my socks. At least my sneakers have sides so they don't let in foreign objects. But those feet of yours are going to hurt for a while." I peeled off my wet shoes, followed by my equally soaked socks. I rang the water from them as best I could and handed them to Brit. She looked skeptical.

"They were fresh two days ago. Plus the rain has washed away any of my germs. It's not like you have a choice," I whispered to Brit.

It almost looked like the road idiots were going to head our way. I signaled for Brit to get lower on the ground.

"Why are they coming this way?" Brit was frantic. I shushed her with a finger to my lips. I could hear the bandits close by our position.

"That guy said they have to be close. So keep your eyes peeled. We find them, we get a night in his house and all the food we can eat. That's what he said, right Thomas?" The person speaking sounded like a female. Brit and I exchanged an odd glance.

"Yep. He claims he has plenty of meat and sweets." Thomas had a low gravelly voice. He sounded mean. "He just wants his daughter back. We can do whatever we want to the guy. Maybe he's got cash, maybe goods. Either way he's a dead man when we get through with him. Just gotta find them now." I closed my eyes and hung my head. Instead of one man looking for us there was a group of six or seven. Just great. And it sounded like no one was too concerned if I was taken dead or alive. For some reason I thought of Jessie James. I rubbed my brow tightly. Bad to worse, Bill, bad to worse.

I felt Brit staring a hole through the side of my head. I glanced over. She was scared again, very scared. What did this girl have that every man seemed to want so badly? She was small, immature, only 14 and a royal pain most of the time. I knew what they saw – youth, sweetness, innocence and a lithe young shape. Was this happening everywhere? Or was it just a regional phenomenon?

I needed to say something to prevent Brit from losing it completely. I crawled over and spoke quietly. "You understand that in other cultures it's common for men of various ages to be attracted to and to desire younger women?" Her eyes opened wider. "My point is that here in our country we have social mores and laws that discourage that type of behavior. But some people, well men, still think those thoughts." She stared harshly. "With the breakdown of society, with no one to enforce these laws or mores, some people act on their urges since there is likely no repercussions for their actions." She still wasn't pleased with my story. "It's not you in other words, it's society. A perverse society, but society nonetheless. You understand, right?" She looked seriously at me. Perhaps I said too much.

"You're going to protect me, right? You're going to use that gun however you have to to protect me, right?"

I nodded. "Of course. I'm just telling you why you seem so popular all of a sudden." She looked at the road and then back to me.

"Let me enlighten you, Mr. Counselor. I've been fighting off old creeps ever since I got boobs. Every girl my age knows they like the little ones. That isn't news to me. I just want you to understand, I'm not going back to John's under any circumstances. Shoot me if you have to, just don't let them take me." Brit rose slightly as the group went further down the dirt road.

I pondered her words. "Brit, why is it every time there's an issue you feel it's your job to remind me to protect you? Don't you think that's what I've been doing all along?" We rose to our knees. "I mean I gave up my supplies for you, left my pack in John's house to get you out of there, I've altered my whole trip just to be sure you'd get to where you're going safely. You don't need to remind me what to do. I've been a father long enough to know my role."

She stared hard at me and bit on her lower lip. "My dad would sell me off for a six pack and a carton of smokes. You realize that don't you?" I continued to stare and made no sign of acknowledgment. "Call it force of habit. I know you say you'll protect me, but I get worried sometimes."

I looked away. "I'm not your dad, Brit. I don't do things like that. That should be pretty damned obvious to you by now." I was pissed, and she didn't seem to care. Just a teenager, thinking only of herself. "I gave you my socks, Brit, I've given you everything, Brit. What else can I possibly do or say to convince you I'm here for you?"

Her expression softened. She had a plan, plain as day. "I want you to stay when we get to my grandparents'. I want you to stay and be my dad, a real dad, like I deserve."

Of all the things she could have said, this was the one I never ever expected. "No. We both have families to find, Brit. And even if your mom doesn't show up, Grandma and Grandpa will know what's best for you."

Her jaw dropped. "They're old, Bill. They're like 60 something. Like they know how to take care of me. You can't just dump me there and expect everything to be fine. And like you're ever going to see your family again. You said that much last night. You know it, and I know it. You need a family, and I need a dad. I have a family, and all it needs is a dad. Hello? Duh?" She spun away.

I kept my voice down. "That's not fair, Brit, and you know it. I have to try. I owe Sharon and my kids that much. If I don't at least try to get there, I'll always wonder. I'll always be haunted by that shadow of doubt that they were there waiting for me, and I just never showed up. I can't take that chance, Brit. Even a selfish little brat like you understands that much, don't you?"

She twisted again and swung, barely missing my left shoulder. "You bastard, you awful selfish bastard. You can't do this to me. You have everything. I have nothing." Brit's voice rose, I looked to see if the road bandits noticed. They hadn't. I held my finger to my lips. "Oh let them find me, what do you care? At least they'll just kill you," she shouted, way too loud. Fortunately it was raining again so that helped muffle the sound.

I grabbed her by her left arm firmly, maybe too firm. "Show me your back. Show me just how awful your life is. Prove to me you're not playing me. Do something for me for a change, how about." Her faced showed fire. She spun and raised her green T-shirt up high enough to expose her wounds.

I froze. I felt my blood turn cold. I couldn't help but stare. Stare at what I prayed didn't exist, and now saw was painfully real, twice as bad as I ever could have dreamt. Some marks were fresh, others were in various stages of healing. I stopped counting at ten. It was lucky I hadn't eaten in a while, I would have lost it all right then and there. Brit spun hearing my deep sigh and lifted the front of her shirt exposing a deep black bruise on her left ribcage.

I dropped my head and rubbed my brow. I sniffed a time or two trying to collect my thoughts. I dropped onto a tree windfall, still staring at the ground. Brit came and stood in front of me.

"Happy?" Her voice was soft and solemn.

Without looking up I answered. "Not in the least, Britney McMahon, not in the least."

# Chapter 31

I had never actually seen anything as bad as what I had just viewed in all my days at school. Maybe I just never looked. But I had seen it at last. Several spots on her back seemed so fresh, like they had just scabbed over. Like just a few days ago they were red with blood. And her ribs? What kind of monster does that to his child? What kind of beast hurts his own daughter? I started to cry. I was defeated.

Believe me, I understood well what was going on in society. It was _The Lord of the Flies_ , except with all humanity, not just young boys. When things fall apart, some people fall to pieces. Others thrive. That's just the way it works. Fight or flight. It's the most basic human survival tactic. But what Britney exhibited wasn't from a stranger. It wasn't because things had gone bad recently. It was her normal life, her every day walk through hell.

I had spanked my daughter once when she was about four. I don't remember the whole situation, I just knew I was mad and she had it coming. I didn't spank her hard, but she carried on like I had been much tougher. Rita cried in her room for hours. I couldn't take it. My little girl was hurting, and I had caused it. I never touched her like that again. But that was nothing to what I felt now. I was awash in many different kinds of emotions. My first thought was rage. How could a human being do this to one of his own children? Then I felt guilt. Guilt in the fact that my children never had to be subjected to treatment like that, and yet Britney was expected to endure it daily. Finally, I felt remorse. How could I have missed this? How could I have not seen the obvious signs of an abused child? How could I have ever doubted her?

As I cried, Britney stood above me cradling my head at her waist. She carefully rubbed my wet head giving me the sympathy she so rightly deserved. She knew she had shocked me, hurt me. Maybe that was her intention? I don't think so. I think she was just being an honest teenager, showing me just how good my life really was.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean to upset you." She had softened. Her display told her terrible story better than any words.

I stood and looked at her not ashamed of the tears on my face. "You didn't upset me. The man who did that to you upsets me." She met my stare. "I'm sorry if I doubted you. I had no reason to. It was wrong of me. You've been very honest with me, Britney. For doubting you, I apologize." She smiled slightly and nodded.

"Apology accepted." She looked at the group far down the south road. "Do we have to keep hiding in here?"

"Yeah, we need to make sure they're gone before we get out of here." I put my hands on her shoulders. "I know you're hungry and wet and tired and sick of all of this. But if we just hang tight for another night, we'll get out of this mess in one piece. Trust me?"

She smiled. "Yes. I trust you. And yes, I'm hungry and wet and tired. But I know you'll get me out of this mess. You owe me, right?" She drew me in and hugged me tightly.

We sat to wait out our tormentors. Rain came again; we sat into the darkness. The darker night became the more the rains continued to fall. How could there be this much moisture in the sky? It had rained for almost two days straight. As the rain fell, it seemed to wash away our hunger. This afternoon I had been hungry, tired and wet. Now I was tired and wet. My hunger disappeared. Brit occasionally whined about food but not much. I think she felt the same.

We discussed our strategy as we sat and waited for the rain to stop. No matter what, we'd be on the move at first light. Tomorrow was going to be our big day, at least we planned on it being our big day. Brit spoke quietly of crawling into her grandmother's oversized, overstuffed feather bed and sleeping for days. And when she finally woke from her slumber she planned on eating the wonderful food Grandma would have for her. Later she spoke about eating first and sleeping later. She couldn't decide which she wanted or needed first – food or sleep. It didn't matter one way or the other to me. I just wanted to get us somewhere safe. We'd been lost on the road for going on five days. We needed safety above all.

I pulled the pocket watch out late in the night and tried to get a read of the time. It was just too dark. I wound it tight so we'd have a general idea of time. I paused as I went to stuff it back in my jeans. What difference did it make? It didn't matter whether it was 8 a.m. or 1 p.m. Time no longer mattered. Time had become irrelevant. In less than a month, keeping track of time had become a pointless practice. What did it matter if we were hungry? If we were tired? If we were being hunted? We would eat when we could find food; we'd sleep when we couldn't go any longer; and the whole time we would be on guard protecting ourselves from the evils that chased us daily. In one month, thirty days, the world had gone insane. And we were still lost.

I unchained the watch from my belt loop and hurled it far into the cornfield. I felt relieved; I felt emancipated. I felt reborn.

At first light, I woke Brit. I had slept a little on and off. She had slept most of the night next to me on the windfall. We were still wet, but not soaked. The rains had let up somewhere in the dark and now there was just mud and dampness everywhere. As she struggled to chase the sleep away, I stood and looked around. I felt for the gun but couldn't find it. I had laid it on the windfall somewhere in the middle of the night so I wouldn't fumble trying to get it from my pocket when needed. No longer was I afraid. I'd shoot our way out of here and all the way to Grandmas' if I had to.

Brit finally rose from the windfall and looked all around us. "Wet and gray I see. But at least it's not raining." I smiled at her.

"We need to get moving fairly soon, okay?"

A quick nod was her reply. "I need to pee first. Okay?"

I looked carefully for a semi-private spot. "Go out the west side here and into the corn a few rows. Not too far, though. I don't want to lose track of you."

She carefully made her way through the wet brush and disappeared into the corn. I lost sight of her a few feet in, so she must have found a decent spot for her relief.

I thought about what the day might bring. Since Brit had remembered the basic whereabouts of her grandparent's farm, I knew it wouldn't take but two hours to get there. Hopefully we would find the roads empty after two days of rain. I was sick of hiding in corn and waiting out bandits in brush piles. I wanted to get on the road and get to our destination.

Getting there, of course, brought a new problem to mind. Brit was staying with her grandparents, period. I needed to continue on to Bayfield. I needed to get there somehow, regroup and then figure out what to do about my family. I was stupid to think I could make it to Milwaukee anytime soon; it had already taken so long just to get this far. Hopefully Brit's people would have a bike and some basic supplies they could lend me – no, give me. I wasn't coming back. Once I got to Bayfield I was staying put until I could figure out a decent plan. Maybe things would settle down by next spring. Maybe the roads would be safer then. I needed my family. Either they would make it to Bayfield soon or I would eventually go looking for them. I would die trying, if that's what it took. I would find them or I would give my last breath as homage to them. It was that simple. Brit deserved Grandma and Grandpa, and I deserved Sharon and the kids.

I felt a few drops of water fall off the trees from above and onto my head. Everything was soaked from the rain. Everything, including her and me. Brit really was a good kid, and I hoped her grandparents would take me in for a few days. I could use some real rest and some real food. Two days of sleeping and eating were what I needed most now. Then on day three, I could take off for my destination. I knew Brit had other ideas, but I trusted one of her grandparents would talk some sense into her. She'd get over me. They would keep her happy.

I was about to call for my travel companion when I heard her approach from behind. She must have gotten turned around in the corn, she came from the north instead of the west. I turned with a small smile to greet her. When I looked up my heart stopped; I felt a colossal chill run through my body. It was him.

"Well, well, well. Lookie who I found." John smiled wryly. "I knew you wouldn't get too far. Not in all that rain. And this is a logical place to go in a rush. The way you left my place." He had his pistol, and it was pointed at my chest. I tried to blink him away, but he was here to stay. His smile showed pure evil.

"Yeah. Sorry about leaving like that. And your window. It just didn't seem like a good place for Brit to be, or me for that matter. You understand." I frowned his direction, and he showed no emotion in return.

"Speaking of her, where is she? The girl." Hopefully she was hearing this exchange and was hightailing it to the next county.

I spoke a little louder. "No idea. She was here the first night. But when I woke this morning she was gone." John's head twitched as he looked around the brush patch. "I suppose she'd had enough of me. She knew where she was headed. She's safe by now I'm sure."

John's smiled broadened. "We'll see. I bet she hasn't made it all that far." He jerked his gun my way. "Where's your gun? I don't see a bulge in any of your pockets. You got it hidden on your back there?"

I laughed and shook my head. "No. That's missing, too. I couldn't find it this morning. I suppose she took it." I peered carefully into John's cold eyes. "I'd keep that in mind if you go looking for her. She's armed, and from what she told me, she's shot a lot guns before with my ex-wife's boyfriend. She's actually pretty handy with a pistol. So, use caution."

It was John's turn to laugh. "Right. That little shit doesn't know a gun from a stick. She's just some clueless teenager, like all of them nowadays. Movies, music and boys. That's all they think of." He wiped his mouth briefly. "I already know she ain't yours. That was pretty easy to figure out from the way you two acted. I'll keep her occupied once I find her."

I took a deep breath. "You know John, I've decided you're just evil. Guys like you don't deserve to be alive. You should all be hung. What good is a little 14-year-old girl to you anyway?"

Now he really lit up. "She's young and firm and tight. In all the right places. I like 'em young." I shook my head in disgust. "Hey, don't judge me. Be honest. You've had her all alone out here for a number of days. Tell me you ain't once thought of touching her. Tell me those tight young thighs don't stir something inside your groin. Tell me while she was exhausted and sleeping you never reached down and felt one of those firm young tits of hers. Go ahead and lie to me. Tell me you're clean."

A quick gasp escaped before I continued. "You're a sick, perverted, disgusting old man. You know most people don't think like that. They don't talk like that. Decent people, John. Good people." I scanned the area casually hoping not to see Brit anywhere. She was thankfully still AWOL. "If I had known you were even just a little sick, a little crazy, I would have done the world a huge favor and just killed you when I had a chance. I'm sorry I didn't."

He gave a faux look of hurt; my rant was probably a compliment to this sick bastard. "Well, you didn't. And I thank you for that. But I'm not going to return that favor. I'm going to kill you now. And then I'm going to find that fine young lady. And I'm going to take her back to my place, kicking and screaming if I have to. Then I'm going to enjoy myself. I'm going to have a good time. And Trevor can watch just like he did with the others. He likes that you know."

I felt the bile rise in my throat. "You sick..."

He waved the gun at me. "You know, it's not personal, Bill. I just have to kill you. I don't want to have to be on guard wondering if and when you're coming back for her. A man's got to do what a man's got to do." He cocked the hammer and paused. "Tell you what, I got another option for you. Hear me out."

I chuckled at John. "Oh I'm sure this is good." The gun was still pointed at me.

"I'll walk you back to the road, and down to the corner of 35. You can go either north or south, I don't give a shit. I'll stand there and wait for a half hour or so. If you don't want to die, just keep going wherever it is you're headed. If you want to die, come back. I'll shoot you right there." His eyebrows rose. "See, you can still live. Just leave. Give me your word you won't come back. Okay?"

I let his words sink in. I'm not sure if it was a trap or an honest offer. I looked around again for Brit. She had heard the discussion and had taken off. Good.

"Tell you what. Why don't you put that gun down, and we'll fight man to man. Just bare hands. Give me a shot to show you how a decent fight goes." He frowned and wiggled the gun; no deal I guess. "Well, then you'd better just kill me. Because if you let me go I'll use all I have left in life to hunt you down, you sick rotten bastard. If it's the last thing I do, I promise you, I will kill you."

John's shoulders slumped. "Well, I gave you an out. I'll tell the girl goodbye for you. Let her know your last thoughts were about her. That will be some consolation to her I imagine." He twitched, ready to pull the trigger. "I know you're a decent fellow. I know you view me as sick. But I win, you lose. I live, you die. All those years of being a decent man aren't worth a damn now." He took aim at my chest, my heart I suppose. "Goodbye, Bill. See you in hell."

I closed my eyes to pray. The gun fired once and then twice.

# Chapter 32

I had always heard that being shot hurt. Mostly it burned. A friend of mine had served in Vietnam and was wounded twice. Both times he said his wounds had burned like hell. But I felt nothing. Perhaps John hit my heart and I was already dead, and just my soul remained erect. Maybe he missed. No, that wasn't possible. He was way too close. I looked down at my chest for what would be a lot of blood from the fresh wounds. I felt my chest and raised my hands to examine my blood, my life flow.

I saw nothing. I felt nothing. I was dead. I knew my lifeless body was below me face down on the ground. This was just the beginning of my afterlife. I had been released from this earthly torment, finally. I looked up at John expecting to see a large grin. Instead, I saw only bewilderment. His eyes stared at me, crazy like. He coughed, and that's when I first saw the blood. Coming from his mouth. Just a little at first, and then much more, a lot more.

John dropped to his knees, the gun now at his side. I watched closely as his crazed eyes stared at me further. Then, after just a second on his knees, he fell forward, face first into the mud a few feet away. I stared at what I assumed was his now lifeless body, lying face down in the water and mud. I wondered if he was already in hell, the only place that would accept a man like John.

I slowly looked up, over his body at his killer. I half expected to see Trevor, his son. Was I next? The shooter still had their weapon pointed where John once stood, directly at me. I started carefully.

"You should point that thing down. He's dead I think. He can't hurt anyone anymore." The shooter stared at the dead body between us and then up to me. "Just point it down, please." The gun didn't move. "At least put the safety back on. Please?" I was getting worried.

It shocked me that I wasn't more excited, more animated. Typically, when one has a gun pointed at them, when one has a person shot standing practically next to them, they tend to get fairly excited. But I was speaking slowly and deliberately. Very carefully. I took a small step towards the shooter.

"Point the gun down, please, Brit? That thing could go off again." She stared at me, her eyes larger than I had seen before. She shook slightly. A few tears streaked her tiny face.

"I heard what he said. He was awful. He was going to hurt me, right?"

I nodded. "Yes he was, Britney."

"And he was going to kill you, wasn't he?" More tears, the gun slowly began to point down, inch by inch.

"He most certainly was, Britney. He was going to kill me." I took a few more small steps towards her. The gun was finally by her side.

"Then I did the right thing, right?" She started to cry. I moved quicker for her. I reached down and took the gun from her small trembling hand, carefully resetting the safety.

"You had no other choice. None." I placed the gun in my pocket and reached to hug the weeping child. She lowered her head and accepted my embrace.

"Then why do I feel like I've just sentenced myself to hell?" I felt her heave with sobs. I couldn't blame her. I'd probably be acting the same if I had just killed a man. I stroked the back of her head and she continued to cry.

"I believe God will forgive you for this, Britney. You did the only thing you could. God probably gave you the strength to do it. I'm sorry you had to be the one." I felt her nod against my chest. "But I'm not sorry he's dead."

She looked up at my face still clutching me tightly. "I took the gun because you had it sitting out. And I knew you had a hundred things on your mind this morning. I just didn't want us to forget it. So I stuck it in my sweatshirt pocket so we wouldn't." She spoke quickly. "And then I heard him. And the awful things he said. I snuck in behind him. Didn't you see me?" I shook my head letting her continue. "When he said goodbye, I shot him. I had so much trouble figuring out the safety. Otherwise I would have done it earlier." She looked at me desperately. "I did the right thing, right?"

I gave her a small nod. "Yes, you did. And you were brave. And you saved my life. Thank you."

She shook away a few last tears. "You've saved me so many times out here, Bill. So many. From the first moment, up 'til now. I should be thanking you. Instead I've been a shit to you. I'm sorry." She was sincere, our emotions were too raw now for anything but sincerity.

"You never have to say that to me, Britney. We're in this together. For good and for bad." I stared into her blue eyes wondering how I was ever going to be able to say goodbye to this wonderful young lady. I dismissed that thought for the time being. "Want to get going?" She looked concerned.

"What about his body?"

"He deserves to rot out here."

She agreed with the bob of her head. "What about his son?"

Good point. I thought about it for a bit before responding. "We can get to Frederic within a couple hours, if not your grandparent's place. We'll let whatever's left of the authorities know about that. They can come and sort it all out. As far as we know, that gang of thugs is back at his place. I don't want to risk going there again." Brit nodded thoughtfully at the plan.

Finally, after almost two days of hiding, we emerged from the brush for the last time. I thought about going back and grabbing John's weapon, but his dead body lay on top of it. I didn't want anything further to do with him, so I left it be. We cautiously made our way down the gravel road back to 280th. We looked both east and west thoroughly for any signs of trouble before heading out. Slowly, hand in hand, we walked quiet and sullen to the west.

As we walked, I noticed Brit was silent and still limping slightly. Her brain was consumed with the thoughts of what she had just done, I presumed, and her feet must still be hurting. I felt like I was pulling her along, like she had lost her way, her will. I decided to stay silent. She needed time to herself. Even if we were still together, alone on the road. She needed to process what had happened a mere ten minutes prior. It couldn't be easy for her; she was so young and had acted so adult, so mature. I thought I'd have done the same thing given a turn of the tables. I'm sure I would have. I had threatened violence so many times this last week. Pulled that gun out and pointed it at someone. Sure I would have, at least I hope I would have.

Brit tugged at me to stop before we got back to the main corner of 280th and 35. I could see the corner and wanted to continue. She pulled again.

"Brit, we're almost there. We need to keep going. You've been through enough. Let's get this over with." I looked at her but she didn't meet my gaze.

Instead, she broke our grasp and turned to look behind us. There was nothing, no one on the road this morning. Then she walked forward several steps and looked to the west. Carefully studying the road in front. Again it was empty. Her small hands came to her face and wiped at her mouth. She looked down. I wasn't sure what she was thinking, but something told me to just let her be.

It came slowly at first. A tear she quickly wiped away then another. She stumbled a few steps into the ditch. I thought maybe she needed to sit down. She leaned forward, hands on her bare knees. I saw her back begin to arch, ever so slowly like a wave forming in the sea. There was a wave alright, a wave of nausea. First a little, then a mighty wave that racked her body. Then many waves. The poor thing hadn't ate or drank anything in several days, but somehow her stomach found something to hurl into the ditch. Finally, when she seemed to be finished, she fell on her rear, away from the bile.

She sobbed. I've never seen anyone cry so hard. For her body being so small, I couldn't believe the grief trying to escape. I tried to console her with words of encouragement and a soft touch on the shoulder, but she waved me away. I knelt nearby and watched as poor Britney McMahon let out 14 years of feelings. I watched as she heaved in sobs flushing out years and years of despair, guilt, anguish and most likely even some hate. She got it all out and finally flopped on her back in the grass, hands to her head.

"I'm sorry I don't have any water to give you." I could see a string of leftover phlegm hanging on her chin. Using my sleeve, I wiped it away. "If there is anything I can do to help, please tell me Brit. I know this has been hard on you. It's been terrible. So, if you need anything just ask."

She looked up from her supine position and shook her head. She was spent. It finally all had come out and she was exhausted.

"I just want to lie here for a while. I can't make it. My whole body aches. My brain aches. Maybe you should go on without me."

I came closer and sat next to her in the brownish grass. Even with all the rain lately the grass was still its usual late summer color. "I think I'll just wait for you. I got time." I looked closely at her to be sure she was still breathing, and she was. "I got nothing but time."

She was quiet for a good ten minutes before she opened her eyes and turned her head to look in my direction. "I can't take any more of this. I just can't. I'm not meant for this." She stared at me like I could read her mind.

"Meant for killing?" I laughed slightly and looked away. "I don't think many of us are meant for that. Not me, that's for sure."

"No, I mean this life. This world. I know you think I'm tough and all that, but really I'm not. I just act that way."

"A lot of people act that way Brit. It's a defense mechanism." Maybe that would help.

"I know. I just don't think I can be on guard day and night like this. We never get a moment's rest. Every time it looks like we might get a little break, something else bad happens. Every time I smile, something bad comes." She stopped and shook her head trying to exorcise her demons. "Just leave me here and go on. I can't take one more bad thing I don't think. God only knows what we'll find next. I'm not sure I can take another disappointment." She sat up finally. "And my feet really hurt." I rose and stuck my hand next to her.

"Here, get up. I'll carry you for a while. You probably weigh less than my pack did." Finally she smiled. I wasn't sure if the smile was at me or because of me. It didn't matter, it was nice to see her smile.

"You won't leave me, will you?" Her face became contorted searching for an answer to a really tough question.

"I'm not sure any more, Brit. I just don't know." I looked closely into her eyes. "You know what I'm searching for. I know what you need. They're mutually exclusive; we both know that. I can't promise anything anymore." I pulled her up by her hand. "Actually I can promise you that I'm not leaving you in this ditch. Not after all we've been through. Let's get going." I squatted and offered my back to her. For a moment she looked, carefully considering the option. Finally she sighed and climbed on. I stood. She was even lighter than I had expected.

She wrapped her thin arms around my neck and whispered to me, "I have no idea how I'm ever going to repay you. For everything you've done for me. I have absolutely no idea." I bounced her up slightly, higher on my back.

"Are you kidding? An hour ago you saved my butt. Like you ever need to do anything more."

I felt her chin settle on my right shoulder. "Yeah, I guess I did, didn't I?" She squeezed tighter. "Go figure."

We walked silently to the corner some fifty yards away. Well, I walked and carried my companion. I thought back to when I had left home, a week before. I had brought so many things with me. So many things I was going to need for my journey. I laughed at how foolish, how naïve I had been. Of all the possessions I had in life, none really mattered that much anymore. I had the clothes I was wearing, a gun in my pocket, and Brit on my back. That's all I had left this morning. And that's all that really mattered any longer.

I peered carefully to the north and south as we arrived at the corner. The rain had driven all of the people off the road. No one was alive this morning. It was as if Brit and I were the last two people on earth. How long would this last? Could we possibly make it another hour without any trouble?

# Chapter 33

We slowly wandered north on the final leg of our journey. The final leg of Brit's journey actually. I had plans to be on my way to Bayfield within a few days. My resolve being deepened by this morning's near death experience. I needed to see who, if any, of my family members had made the trek north to the far end of Wisconsin. Whoever was there deserved me as much as I deserved them. Brit would have her grandparents, and I would have some family. At least that was the plan. It was subject to change at any time.

The 90-pound girl clung on my back was silent. She'd been through a lot that morning, a lot in the past five days. She started the journey by not wanting to say a word and then changed to talking non-stop. Now, after this morning's shooting, she didn't have much left to say. Who could blame her? It was a lot to expect from any person. I felt her head go up.

"Is that smoke?" She wasn't scared, just concerned. I looked forward, to the north. There were three or four columns of thin wispy smoke rising in the distance. Maybe a mile, maybe two, ahead.

"Looks like it. Whatever's burning is almost out I think." What little breeze there was this morning moved the smoke ever so gently southeast. The now clear blue, cloudless sky seemed to absorb the smoke within seconds. "I don't think it's a problem. Probably just burning some trash up near Frederic." This seemed to calm Brit's concern. I felt her chin settle again on my shoulder.

Suddenly, from a small crossroads just ahead, appeared five young men. Five angry looking, weapon-toting men. Two had bats, one had an axe. A fourth carried a machete. They were only sixty yards away, not a step more. Just over half a football field. They saw us, and we saw them. This looked like trouble, again. I dropped Brit from my back and she plopped on the road on her sore feet.

I looked around; the ever-present corn had disappeared. To our left was a low soybean field. To our right was mostly swamp, no large trees just some tall brush and water. 280th was almost a quarter mile to our rear. There was no avoiding this group.

"Crap." I feverishly looked for a hiding place. Finally, I led Brit by the arm towards the swampy side of the road. She'd be safe in the ditch. I looked back at this morning's trouble. They were on a slow trot closing the distance every second. "Get in the ditch. Try and make your way toward that brushy patch out there." I pointed to the only tree, a mighty small one at that, about thirty yards in. "I'll be right behind you."

Brit scampered into the ditch and looked back at me. "Come on, Bill. Come on." I looked at the group. I felt the pistol in my pocket. Something snapped. I was done being chased, and hiding like a scared child. My heart raced, beating faster and faster with each passing second. Without looking at the teen I spoke, firmly.

"Get in there, Brit. I'm going to take care of this. Once and for all, I'm going to stop this crap." I heard footsteps as she came back.

"No. Let's just hide out, and hopefully they'll go away. If they can't find us in there they'll leave." I turned and stared at Brit. I shook my head slowly.

"No more, Brit. I can't hide anymore." I stepped back onto the road and drew my gun. I pointed it in their direction and fired a shot safely over their heads. They stopped. A stare down ensued. I think they could see that I was truly pissed, pissed at them, pissed at the world.

"Whatever you think you want from us," I waved the gun at the group, "you can't have. We aren't giving you anything. We don't have anything. Not one damn thing." I looked at the group one by one. Two had taken refuge in the west ditch, two on the east side. The only one without a weapon stood in the middle of the road fifteen yards ahead. I couldn't tell his intentions. I pointed the gun directly at him.

He raised his hands. "Just give us the girl. There's a guy, he wants the girl. That's what another group told us last night. She's got short dark hair and a pair of cute legs sticking out of her shorts. She looks close enough to that." He pointed at Brit standing behind me. "You can go. Just give us her, and you can pass." He tried to sound reasonable, but I was having none of it. These weren't the same clowns that had been looking for us earlier, but I needed to deal with this right now.

"No," I shouted again. "He's dead. The girl shot him this morning." I watched as the leader took a step closer, his face questioning my words. The two in the west ditch slowly rose. I shot over their heads, and the pair dropped back down.

"You killed that old man?" The leader continued his slow walk towards my position. I pointed the gun at him. He stopped.

"The next round I fire is at someone. You're all close enough to be within range of a nine mil, right?" No one replied. "I'm not doing this anymore. I'm the one with the weapon. I'm not going to be chased around like a wounded deer. No more. And yes, he's dead. Go take his house. Go take his food. Take his land and make it your own. I couldn't care less. Just leave us alone. Or else someone's going to die."

The leader pondered my words. One of the two in the east ditch made a run for Brit who was standing between the ditch and the swamp. I turned and pointed the gun at him. When he didn't stop, I fired but missed. He slowed just for a brief second, so I fired again. He dropped to the ground ten yards from Brit. I heard her quickly move in behind me. I felt her at my back. I looked back at the leader.

"Who's next? I'm done playing games. Get your group and get lost. Last warning." I stood on the roadside in the crisp late summer air. I pointed a weapon at another person, something I would have never considered a month ago. Now it was second nature. The leader looked at his group and shrugged. His wounded man moaned to my right. "I don't think he's dead. If anything, I hit him somewhere low, by the legs. You can leave him or take him. Doesn't matter to me. Just get going." I saw the leader's head move ever so slightly.

"Carl, George," he looked over his right shoulder at the two in the west ditch. "Come get Freddy. Liam, you too." Slowly the three rose from their spots. They watched me carefully as I kept the gun on them. "Only gonna get worse you know." The leader felt it his duty to fill us in on life on the road. "Gonna get a lot worse for men and women on the roads. From now until winter, I imagine." He stared at Brit, then at me. "Just so you know."

I let out a small laugh. "Buddy, in the last week I've seen so many things out here I didn't think were possible. So much. I get what you're saying. I know." I watched as the three subordinates helped Freddy to his feet. I had hit him low in the thigh, just above the knee. I looked back at the leader. "Just be warned. There's a lot of armed people out there, too. Decent people just trying to get somewhere."

The group's leader was next to laugh. "We're mostly looking for food, not trouble. We're sick of eating field corn and soybeans. You can boil them forever, and they still taste like crap. That other group told us that guy, that dead guy, offered food and shelter to anyone who brought him the girl. They said he claimed she was his daughter." I shook my head at him. "Whatever. We're sick of living on the road, too, ya know. I just want to lay my head on a pillow again. And eat something that tastes good. That's all." He smiled at the ground and then looked up. "We're decent people, too. Just desperate. Real desperate."

"Why don't you go into town? Frederic or Luck or wherever? There's something to do there. Some kind of work."

"You don't get it, do you?" I stared at him waiting for a logical explanation. "Most of the food is gone out here. No one was ready for this. All the stores had low reserves to begin. Those big stores in the bigger cities have forced so many of the little stores out of business. Or to the point where they just carry a little stock. Not much though. And these towns you talk so highly of, they're feeding their residents first. Strangers are second rate to them. There ain't much left. Unless you got money. In that case, come on in. We'll take your money. But we don't have none." The five had congregated together in the center of the road just a few feet from us. Danger had passed. This was just a group of people conversing.

"Sorry, I guess people are scared and have lost that sharing spirit," I said. "Go back to John's house, the dead guy. There should be food there. Just take this road to the next crossroad and turn west. His place is down there about three miles." The group nodded one by one. These weren't bad men, just desperate men. They began to move south past us. As they walked away, for the first time I saw them for what they were, what they had become. Lost men. Their eyes were empty. Their faces and clothes dirty. Their gait slow, their shoulders slumped. Lost souls.

Brit moved her way around me as they passed. I felt her take hold of my right arm as they walked off, slumped off actually. I felt bad for them. I felt sad for humanity.

Brit's small voice broke the morning silence. "How are we ever going to get supplies if people aren't sharing? What happens if Grandma and Grandpa need things? I don't think they have much money."

I watched the group move away and looked back at Brit. "I have money. Not a lot, but enough to last us for a while." I knelt for Brit to get back into her riding position. "I just didn't want to mention it in front of them. Seeing as there were five of them, and we only have two or three bullets left. I think they were desperate enough. No need to tempt them further." I turned north with my rider and started our slow march onward. I couldn't shake the feeling of sadness.

Brit spoke softly. "I just want to get there. I just want to be somewhere. Heck, anywhere. I want off this stupid road."

I had to agree. Every minute seemed to bring a new adventure. And not a good adventure. More like a journey into hell.

"We'll be there soon. Not more than another hour now." I shifted my load so Brit rode a little higher. I didn't want her head down and her chin digging into my neck any more. I wanted her looking ahead. For either home or trouble. We needed to keep a sharp eye out for both.

The smoke from earlier was mostly gone. I could see some slight discoloration in the sky ahead and a little to our left. But for the most part, whatever had been burning was burned out. For the first time in many days the air was clean and fresh. The humidity had been scrubbed away by the rain of the past few days. Things looked better this morning. Even after our latest trial on the road. I felt more optimistic than I had in many of days. Maybe even since the power had gone out.

My stomach started to growl. We hadn't eaten in a couple days. I felt Brit's stomach churn from time to time as well. We'd have to be careful when we started eating again. I was sure our stomachs had shrunk quite a bit. If we ate too much or too fast or too rich of food, it wouldn't stay down. Brit had already had one mishap this morning. I was pretty sure she'd want to avoid any repeat performances.

"I think I'll drink water when we get there. Lots and lots of water." I felt Brit chuckle at my words. I was so thirsty I would almost stop and drink swamp water. But I knew better. It might go down okay, but it would come up and make me sick as a dog. My heart ached as I thought of Buddy. It seemed like so long ago now that he had wandered off. I was so sure he would rejoin us, but he never had. He probably found a new home with a bunch of kids who were giving him all the love and attention he deserved. That and some food. I couldn't remember hardly feeding him at all since I'd been on the road. Maybe that was the reason he had left. He was searching for food. Couldn't blame him.

Food was certainly at the forefront of most people's minds these days. It was for the group we'd run into this morning. Thirty days in and people were already desperate for food. I wanted to be surprised, but I wasn't. I had read somewhere, a few years back, that the average American family had two week's worth of food on hand. Two week's worth, a paltry fourteen days. And with the power going out, most of their refrigerated and frozen supplies would be worthless. You'd have to eat it all fast before it spoiled. What I wouldn't give for a pack of frozen hotdogs right that second. Or a loaf of semi-stale bread. Even a bottle of water seemed like a luxury now. We needed water.

Brit spoke quietly from my back. "When we get there I just want to sleep." I smiled ahead as Brit chose sleep over food. "I'll drink some water first, but then I'm climbing into bed, and I don't want anyone to wake me up. I just want to sleep for days. No rain, no bugs, no leaves, no crap. Just sleep." I nodded. That seemed like a pretty good plan.

I looked ahead. No side roads were in sight yet. But they'd be coming.

I plodded on.

# Chapter 34

We stared at the smoldering rubble. No words were spoken. Nothing needed to be said. The scene spoke for itself.

Brit had jumped down from my back when we turned west on 293rd Ave. She ran down the old blacktop road the last half-mile to her grandparent's house. In her haste she missed what had caused me to stop and stare. The first three houses were all gone. All burned. Burned to the ground. I looked ahead watching the happy teen run the last few yards of her journey. I sprinted to catch up with her, hoping to either find theirs still standing or to ease the harsh kick in the guts she was about to receive. She stopped suddenly, so I caught her before she got there. But the damage was done.

She was crying by the time I got along side of her. Hands on her cheeks all out sobbing. I looked and couldn't blame her. Whatever house had been here was gone. Also burned to the ground. The only thing left standing was the field stone fireplace on the west side of the foundation. Otherwise, everything else was level, and black.

"This is the place, right?" I had to ask, even though the surroundings were just as Brit had described in detail. The barn with the off kilter door, the row of trees leading up the drive and the pump, still intact, standing alone off to the right of the house. I walked slowly toward the pump. We both needed a drink badly.

The pump required more effort than I had thought to get the water to run cold from the well. But after a few minutes of continuous pumping, by me and me alone, the water was finally cold. Brit cupped her hands in the stream of the cool reward and took a small sip. She squeezed her eyes shut tight as more tears came with the memories. I took my turn as Brit pumped for me, the water was perfect. My parched throat finally received its relief. I turned and looked at the building, what was left of the former house.

"Where was their bedroom?" Brit pointed to the far back end of the rubble. I walked carefully around the foundation and inspected the former room from the lawn. I could see where the mattress had been, a dresser, I think, over in the corner, but not much else. Thankfully there were no charred remains.

She looked at me with her sad, defeated eyes. "You need to search through the whole house. If they're here I want to bury them. I want you to bury them, please."

I wanted to say no, I wanted to argue. Instead I began sifting through the remains of the once modest one story dwelling.

"What was here?" I stood in the center of a large room. Which room I couldn't be sure.

Brit thought for a moment with a puzzled face and then circled to the front of the house. "That was the kitchen, or dining room. But I'm pretty sure it was the kitchen. The living room was up front here." She pointed directly in front of where she was standing. "My bedroom was over here." She moved to the west and pointed at a spot about ten by ten. Made sense to me.

I continued to kick through any piles I came across. Occasionally I dug in a pile if it looked promising. I found nothing. No people at least. No remains of people. I looked at the small teen sitting in the front yard on a large wooden swing. She was hopeful. Of what, I'm not sure. But Brit looked hopeful.

"Anything?" she called as I stopped to wipe the sweat from my eyes. The weather wasn't as hot or humid as previous days, but the ashes were still warm.

"I don't think so." I looked at Brit carefully. "Do they have a car?" She pointed to a small one-car garage next to the barn. I jumped off the edge of the foundation and strolled to the closed door of the small enclosure. I pulled on the door but it was locked. I stood on my tiptoes to peer into the dark shed. One car sat inside, lonely.

"Anything?" Brit's voice was getting smaller each time she spoke. I looked back at her and waved her over.

"Looks like a Buick Regal. A red Buick Regal. Theirs?"

Brit looked at me and sighed. Her head moved slightly. "Grandma's. Grandpa always parks her car in the shed. Open the door so I can see." Brit came forward and stood next to me. I stared down at her.

"It's locked."

Her face lit up the second she heard my words. "That's great." She jumped up and down, and then hugged me tight. I was missing something.

"Why is that great?" Brit's smile got larger.

"Because they only ever lock that door when they're gone somewhere. And not like just running into town to get groceries. Maybe they're around here somewhere and just stayed there." Brit started back for the road looking up and down the avenue. I trotted up next to her and grabbed her sweatshirt-covered arm.

"And just how would they get there? The car is in the garage. They got a helicopter you're not telling me about?"

She gave me a look like I was the dumbest person on earth. "No. They took Grandpa's truck." That made more sense. "It's an old truck and he doesn't mind leaving it sitting somewhere when they take a trip. Like at a friend's house. He doesn't want the car to sit out in the 'elements' he always says." Brit made her air quotes to emphasis Grandpa's quirks. "But maybe they got stuck in town at a friend's place before or after their trip." She started running down the road. She looked back at me and called over her shoulder with a smile. "Come on, we need to go into town. I know where their best friends live."

I convinced Brit to walk instead of run. Our energy was low enough without expending it unnecessarily. Town wasn't going anywhere and it was still before noon as best as I could tell. We had plenty of daylight left to find these friends.

The town of Frederic shocked me. It was a time warp. If I didn't know any better I would have sworn Brit and I had been transported back to the 1950s, to some sleepy version of pre-modern day America. Except for the lack of electricity and running vehicles, it seemed this small town was ignorant to what was going on outside the city limits. People were out watering gardens with buckets of cool water taken from a nearby creek, some kids passed us on bikes. Even the stores here appeared to be open. I thought maybe I was dreaming.

The dream ended abruptly when a policeman stopped us just as we began to get into the heart of town.

"Hello sir, miss." The young man even tipped his hat to us. How quaint. "Can I see some identification please, sir?" I dug my wallet from my back pocket and handed him my driver's license. He studied it carefully. "How can I help you today Mr. Carlson? What brings you to Frederic?" His voice was easy, and his posture told me I could expect no trouble from the man with a gun.

"Just passing through on my way to Bayfield. Looking for supplies right now."

"And my grandparents." Brit interrupted. "Joe and Wilma Forester. Do you know them?" The young cop smiled at Brit and looked away to think.

"Afraid not. Do they live here in town?" He looked at me, but Brit did the talking.

"No, they live just south on 293rd. You know where that is right?"

Yes, he knew where 293rd was but no, he didn't know Grandma and Grandpa.

I looked at him seriously. "What's the story with the houses down there? There's like four or five of them, all in a row, burned to the ground." His face lit up.

"Oh, that. Yeah. Road scum." He spoke quickly. "They were giving us trouble out there. Picking on the residents, demanding food, shooting their livestock, tearing up their gardens. We went out there and chased them away. But they came back, with a vengeance. Those fires are a few days old. They should all be burned out by now I would think." He covered his eyes from the sun and looked southwest in the direction of the houses. "A few still smoldering, I suppose. But the houses are gone, so the road scum left. We relocated all those folks with some residents here in town. Everyone's okay. No one got hurt." The officer seemed proud of his tale. He smiled at Brit and me.

"Where'd all those people go?" Brit sounded alarmed at this plan. She hadn't been listening too closely I guess.

The officer smiled at the teen. "Don't worry about them. They all got brought into town to stay with families or friends. They're all just fine." He patted Brit's shoulder as he finished.

"So who started the fires?" I had to ask.

He smiled more. "We did. After we got the people all loaded up, we decided to torch the places. That way that crap wouldn't take up residence out there. Pretty good plan actually." He nodded at Brit to show his brilliance.

I stared away and shook my aching head. "Except you burned down five homes, right?"

He shrugged. "If our people couldn't stay there, no one will. Problem solved."

These guys had thought of everything. Unless the power somehow came back on. Then they'd have five real pissed off families to deal with. I got back to our more immediate needs. I remembered I needed to tell this young officer some news. "By the way, out on 280th to the east and about a mile down, there's a young boy there by himself. Some creep named John was doing awful things out there. It's on the north side of the road. The only place with the front window shot out."

Officer friendly nodded and jotted the information down on a notepad he had pulled from his front shirt pocket. "Okay. I'll grab some men and head out that way. Thanks." He started to walk away, so I caught his attention one last time.

"If it's okay with you, we are going to go find a family that knows her grandparents." The young man smiled and signaled his approval. "And then I need to get some supplies so I can continue on." More smiling. He was gone. "Okay, thanks." I started walking further into town. It took me a second, but noticed Brit wasn't with me. I stopped and turned to call for her. She looked upset, again. "What?"

"You mean we, right?" I had no idea what she was talking about. "Me and you, right?" Brit's arms were crossed in front of her chest. The fighting pose.

"What are you talking about?"

"We need to get some supplies so we can continue our trip."

It finally dawned on me what her issue was. "Brit, we're probably going to find your grandparents at their friend's house. And even if they're not there, you should probably stay with these folks. Just in case they do come back." Her frown hardened. "Brit, I've got another 100 plus miles to go. And we both know what the road will be like. You need safety, I need Bayfield." I tried to put a positive spin on it.

Brit walked towards me quickly, determined. "We, period. They're not here. I know it. If they are, I'll stay. If they're not, I'm coming with you." I went to say something but she stopped me. "No. No. I'm not going to be left here all alone. No way. I don't really have a mom, and I sure as hell don't have a dad. I'm an only child of an only child. You are a decent person. I deserve you. Maybe you deserve better than me, but I deserve you. You know it." Tears began to trickle down Brit's face. She stepped closer.

"What am I supposed to do with a 14-year-old girl, Brit?" I tried to smile but it wouldn't come. "I haven't been a real good husband. I'm an okay dad, but there's better. I don't have any idea what I'm going to find in Bayfield. If I ever get to Bayfield. God only knows what the road ahead is like." She listened patiently as I ticked off my list. "I have a gun with three bullets. Don't have transportation yet. Need more supplies. Need food real bad now. What are you looking for, Brit?"

Her face took on a small grin. "Just take me with. Don't leave me here alone. I'd rather be with you than strangers. At least I know you'll protect me, you'll look out for me and take care of me. The last five days have proven that. I know you probably don't see it like I do. But I think we're family now. You're the best dad I could hope for."

That one hit me hard. I choked up before I could respond, then regained my composure. "Okay, I'll make you a deal. If they're not here, or close by, we'll stick together. If they're here, we go our separate ways, okay?" I turned to look down Main Street for options.

Brit grabbed my arm and turned me to face her. "I have a request before we go any further. Two things." Her eyes twinkled as she looked down for a second. "Two more very small things." I waited as she thought of what she would say next. "First, from now on you call me Britney." I tried to interrupt that I thought that was only for family. She shushed me and continued. "And I get to call you Dad. Okay? Deal?" She stuck her small, dirty right hand my direction.

I stared at it in silence. Finally, I looked at her face. "Okay, deal." I shook her hand. "If we continue on together I can live with that." Brit came forward and hugged me with all the strength she had left. I squeezed her hard in return. It was a fairly good deal for both parties, if we stayed together. But I had my doubts.

She spoke in almost a whisper. "They're in Pennsylvania."

I looked down at her. "What?"

"They were taking a trip to Pennsylvania this month. Amish country. I remembered when we were talking to that cop. Grandpa's truck will be at his friend's house. But they're gone. At least we'll get a meal or two before we leave." Again she emphasized the we parts of her sentence. I was dumfounded. I had been suckered into this by the very best.

"You tricked me. You lied."

Brit, now Britney, broadly smiled back at me. "Sort of, not really though. You lied first. Telling those guys to head west instead of east. And you know you would have taken me with you either way. I knew you wouldn't leave me behind. We make a good team. And at least I can hit something with that gun. You're kinda wild." She poked me in the ribs. "Admit it, I've grown on you."

I looked around town, digesting her words. "We either need to find food somewhere or these friends of your grandparents. I need to eat. I bet you do, too." She spun and led me in the direction of the friends.

As promised, the truck was there but no grandparents. Will Jensen had run them to the airport three days before the world went dark. Joe and Wilma were most likely living the good life with the Amish now. At least that was Will's way of thinking. Plenty to eat and drink with no need for something the Amish had never had – electricity.

Will and his wife Betty fed us and gave us a soft bed that evening. They were wonderful, kind, older folks. The sort you'd expect to find in a small town like Frederic. Will told Britney and me where to get what we needed for our trip. Though Betty wished we would consider staying with them. She said she'd feel better if we did. Britney politely declined, but promised that we'd come back some day, if we could.

Prices were reasonable in Frederic, all things considered. Everyone knew Britney's grandfather and his best buddy, Will. Just mentioning their names helped negotiate the best deals available. We got two used bikes, two backpacks, an assortment of used clothing, food and medical supplies. We got all we could carry, plus a little more, for just over $300. I had expected to give up every last dollar in my pocket.

We stayed two extra days with the Jensens. Two extra days that helped replenish our strength, helped us get some much-needed extra sleep and four extra meals. On the morning of our fifth day in Frederic, Britney and I mounted our bikes and began our journey to Bayfield. Our departure went mostly unnoticed. Except for the tears from Betty Jensen. On the road we were just a father and his daughter making their way home.

# Chapter 35

We made it to Bayfield, and beyond to my family's cabin, in two days. We took mostly side roads so the trip was longer, but much safer than our first five days together. We only had one encounter with road bandits. We easily outran them on our bikes, even with our heavy loads. Britney whined very little those two days. I carried the heavy pack, leaving her with a lighter load. But every time we came to a steep uphill climb, she whined her pack was too heavy and how could I be so mean? I laughed every time she said that.

Of course, we found the cabin empty. What else did I expect from my family? It had been over a month since the electricity, and civilization had disappeared. No one else had made it to Bayfield. Had they even tried?

The cabin was small. Well, for six it would have been small. But for just Britney and me, it was spacious. I let her choose from two spare bedrooms while I took the master for myself. She chose the one closest to mine, of course. It didn't matter for the first few months. Somewhere in the middle of the night she would always vacate her room and crawl in bed next to me. I told her it wasn't proper for a father and his daughter to share a bed. She didn't argue. She didn't say anything. She just kept doing it, night after night.

The fall went fast as we became familiar with our new surroundings and made a number of trips into Bayfield for supplies. She liked Bayfield. While she had never been there before, she found it a lot like the area she had grown up. The people were mostly friendly and very helpful. Many of our new friends went out of their way to make us feel at home. We were invited to a dozen places for meals, and every church in town reached out to their newest residents. Britney was comfortable here.

Winter came early and lasted a long time. We stayed huddled inside most days. We had used the fall to cut and stack a lot of wood, so we were prepared. Whenever our food supplies began to run low, we put on everything we owned and trudged into town for more. The pickings were slim in town, mostly eggs, cheese and venison. Since that's all there was, we ate what we could find. Most days Britney read in a large comfortable green overstuffed chair by the south window. I discovered right away that she liked to read, so I spent a little time on every trip into town finding her subjects to keep her occupied over the long winter. By spring she had even begun to learn a little bit of Spanish. Mostly to swear at me when I was being mean.

The next spring I decided we needed a garden. A large garden. A ridiculously humongous garden, according to my daughter. Turning up the soil brought out a new side of Britney's anger. She wasn't much happier when it took two days of bending over to plant it either. And weeding took her over the edge.

One hot summer day we weeded in silence. The weeds were small, but we needed to get them out. I told her over and over we had to stay at the task. Finally she'd had enough.

"I cannot believe you are doing this to me. We've been doing nothing but pulling weeds for days now, maybe weeks. You're an awful, rotten father. I hate you." Britney stood ten feet away screaming at my back. I ignored her. I knew better. It wasn't that fun for me either. I could sense her glare but chose to ignore her. Finally I heard her dash over to my side and bend down to hug me. She kissed my cheek as she apologized. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. You're the best dad ever. Ever." Problem solved.

Later that summer, a dog showed up at our door. He wasn't much of a dog. Just a small brown mangy mutt. I ignored him; Britney named him Buster, and he's lived with us ever since. He's okay I guess, for a mutt.

A few weeks later a woman with two small boys showed up at our garden. She looked weak and frail, about my age, perhaps a few years younger. The boys looked dirty and depressed. Sarah had left her home in central Wisconsin looking for her parents when the previous winter's snows had melted. Now, some three months later, she found herself wandering the countryside with her boys, Dillon and David. Britney and I invited them in for the night and they've stayed ever since. Sarah is a good, kind, gentle woman and has become a wonderful mother for Britney and a good wife for me. Britney loves having little brothers to keep her occupied. She loves reading them stories and snuggling in bed with them at night. Britney finally has the whole family she always wanted so badly.

Some days, I am overwhelmed with guilt. I feel I should have made a better effort to find my family, my first family. That's what people call their lost families these days, their "first family." On those days when I'm quiet and lost in my thoughts, Sarah seems to know what I need. She quietly reminds me that we're lucky to have what we do have now. So many families are still torn apart. So many people wander the roads and countryside, lost and alone. At least we have each other. She knows how to make me feel better.

Almost every day, Sarah and Britney and even the boys tell me that they love me. Most days I can only smile and give them a hug. When, after months of not responding, I was finally able to reciprocate their words – the feelings have always been there – I felt so guilty. Like I was betraying my love for Sharon and Rita and Dustin. But I realize now that there's room in my heart for all of them. I know I'll never see my first family again. Not in this lifetime. But I still love them and miss them every single day.

The world we once knew is gone. Things will never be the same. Everything is harder now. Getting food, getting fuel, going anywhere, just plain living. It's all so much harder. With the support and love of my family, I do the best I can in this new world. I pray that God will keep us safe and watch over those we miss so dearly. That is my daily prayer.

# Epilogue

Diary of Sharon Carlson – September 29 – 13 months post event

My darling Bill.

It's been more than a year now since we parted. If I had only known it would be the last time I would see you, I would have said so many things.

You see, I never really appreciated you, my love, until you weren't there anymore. The days without you have been terrible and lonely. What I would give to sit and talk for hours with you about nothing as you held me and told me how much you loved me. I was such a fool to take what we had for granted.

The first day that everything changed was awful. And I feel so bad thinking back on that time now. When the lights were out and no one had power I somehow thought my car would still work. When it didn't, I cursed your name. How could you let something like this happen to me? I'm so ashamed for thinking that way, Bill. Can you ever forgive me?

Milwaukee fell apart fast after power was gone. By fall it wasn't safe to be outside anytime, day or night. The roads were full of people who would kill you just for, well, nothing. Then we heard rumors of bands of thieves going door-to-door taking food and water and worse. So many women have gone missing. There one minute and gone the next. Gone forever, I'm afraid.

Mom and Dad insisted we leave Milwaukee and head for Uncle George's farm up by Ripon. Were we ever there together, Bill? I used to go a lot when I was a little girl. I just can't recall if you and I ever visited George and Louise up there.

It's only 60 miles from my parent's house to George's farm. But our route was more like 80 because we had to take side roads. They're the only safe roads out there anymore. We started on bikes, but the tires gave out on two of them so the kids had to ride tandem with me and their grandfather. Those tires eventually blew as well, so the last 40 miles was on foot.

It took us four painful days to get to the farm. Dad complained every step of the way. Mom was a real champ, though. She kept the kids' spirits up and talked to me the whole time. We had some trouble, but Dad had his shotgun with, so that kept most people away.

George and Louise welcomed us with open arms. Almost immediately George put us all to work helping with the harvest and filling the barn with the summer's bounty. It was really hard work, darling, so much harder than I ever realized. Those Amish people must be so strong to be able to do what they do by hand nowadays. We have a lot to learn from them, at least George says we do.

Winter was long and hard. I've written so much of that in my diary already. Dustin got really ill just after Christmas. An Amish doctor came and gave us a rub to put on his chest. He had some sort of nasty flu bug, the doctor said. It took a few weeks, but our little man finally got better. Thank God.

The kids miss you so much, Bill. So very much. Rita still cries almost every night for you. Dustin tries to be strong. I know it's hard for him, but he puts on a very brave face. I have only one picture of you and I remaining. So I gave it to Rita to keep. I'm sure you understand how much a young girl needs her Father nearby.

A man with a little girl came to help us on the farm this spring. His name is Frederick, and his little girl is Sadie. She's so cute. She's five now. Just turned five in August. Frederick is a hard worker. He's a great help. We've had to plant everything by hand this year and we couldn't have done it without him. He and Sadie live with us now. I hope you know what I mean. I haven't tried to replace you, Bill. And he's not half the man you ever were. But I've been so alone and so miserable. He's good to Dustin and Rita and my mother. And so sweet and kind to me. He says his wife was away down South on a business trip when everything happened. He misses her a lot, too. We all miss someone, Bill.

Dad is gone. We got up one morning and he headed into town, and we haven't seen him since. Mom says he's run off with another woman. I think he died somewhere. Frederick and George have searched all over, but he's nowhere to be found. That was in June, so I'm afraid he's gone for good.

This is the last entry I am going to make in my diary. One final farewell. It just hurts so much every time I open these pages and write to you my darling. I know if you could be here you would come. But I'm sure you are stuck in Woodbury taking care of all those weak neighbors of ours. That would be just like you, always thinking of others before yourself.

I'm going to work on the future. Whatever future there is for Rita, Dustin, Frederick, Sadie and myself. I know you understand. Maybe you've even taken up with that silly Alexis from across the street. You know she always had a thing for you. I suppose you never saw it. You were too busy being the best dad and most wonderful husband a family could ever have. Thank you for all the things I never thanked you for Bill. I will miss you so, so much. I love you my darling. I always have and will until my dying day.

Yours always,

Sharon

P.S. – I just realized today is your 40th birthday. Happy birthday dear. I feel like it's someone else's birthday as well. But for the life of me I can't recall who it is. I bet 40 looks good on you. xoxo

###

About the Author

This is the debut novel for dystopian author e a lake. He arrived late on the writing scene, beginning after his 50th birthday. After eighteen months he has this novel and three other manuscripts ready in this series (awaiting publication). He also has two more manuscripts ready for editing in another series, The Smith Chronicles.

The author and his wife make their home in a quiet suburb just east of St. Paul, MN. Both have been lifelong residents of the upper Midwest.

If you enjoyed this book, please leave a review on the site you purchased it from.

Feel free to check my website at: www.ealake.com

And my blog at: www.ealake.blogspot.com

