Going Home (10 page)

When things first went dark, I imagined most folks did what I did—just sat down and waited; some probably took right off looking for help. So the first real wave of people moving would be on the second or maybe the third day postevent. Most would find some place to provide support, in a town somewhere. That would last a couple of days until they figured out that the only way they were getting anywhere was to walk. I was sure this thought wouldn’t occur to them until they had exhausted every possible resource that may be even remotely available to them, or pissed off the locals/host where they were.

That sets them to walking again. Let’s say that part lasted two to three days. So that puts a bunch of folks getting out on the road today and tomorrow, and the numbers only increasing from there. The locals where all these people were would be glad to see them leave, saving valuable resources for the community and probably bringing the tension down a bit. Now in another day or two, and every day after that, others were going to start streaming in, looking for resources. They were going to expect whatever authority was in control to take care of them. After all, when you’re in trouble, all you have to do is call 911, and all the help in the world comes to your aid. I figure in about another five to six days, people on both sides of this equation were going to hit the wall. The locals were going to be fed up with people coming in, looking for a handout, and those on the road were going to start to resent the treatment they get from them. Not that it was either side’s fault. It was not like you could go into Walmart or Winn-Dixie and buy a sack of grub now. What you had was all you were going to have until something changed. Who knew, maybe the gov was already rolling the FEMA cavalry on its way to the rescue. Although I imagined that that cavalry looked more like the First Cav rolling into Iraq than the Red Cross.

After a quick security check to make sure no one was around, I dipped off the road into the bush. There was a screen of trees off the road, then a break about six feet wide, and then a fence and planted pines. I dropped my pack against the fence and walked back out to the road. Staying inside the brush, I checked the road with the binos to make sure no one was around. All clear in both directions. Returning to my pack, I pulled out the lunch from under the top flap, sat down, and leaned back against the pack that rested against the fence. The sun was warm and bright. I opened the brown paper bag and found two sandwiches wrapped in wax paper, a pack of peanut butter cheese crackers, and a moon pie. That moon pie brought a smile to my face—thanks, Miss Edith.

Unwrapping the first sandwich, I discovered it was ham and cheese with lettuce, tomato, mayo, and mustard. The ham wasn’t prepackaged lunch meat either. It was carved off the bone ham. “Oh, good Lord, that looks good,” I said out loud. “Good” being half muffled as I stuffed that Dagwood sammich in my mouth. After two of those and half a bottle of water, I was done. I let out a belch that Miss Edith would surely have admonished me for, stretched out my legs, pulled my hat down over my eyes, tucked my hands behind my head, and snoozed. I didn’t sleep; this was different. I was awake and aware, just kinda like when your computer goes into sleep mode. You touch the mouse or tap a key and it wakes right up. It was like that—I was full, comfortable, and relaxed.

I was roused by the sound of a truck engine. I couldn’t see the road from where I was but clearly heard a truck. Standing up, I moved toward the road and just caught sight of an old duce and a half headed south on the road. It didn’t have a cover on the back, and I saw several people in the rear. A couple of them were standing and looking out over the top of the cab. “Huh, look at that.” Going back to the pack, I pulled the two-quart canteen out to refill the water bottle; it was almost empty. I pulled the Platypus bag out and topped off the bottle, leaving the bag a little under half full.
Hmm, I’m gonna need to find water. Maybe there is something set up in Perry; those two said they had water. It wasn’t critical yet; the one quart was still full, the water bottle was full, and the bag was almost half full. I was all right.

From where I stopped for my lunch, I was less than a mile from a rest area. I didn’t realize it when I stopped there, though, but I was glad I had lunch before I got here. This place was a bit of a zoo. People were all over the damn place. The little pavilions had been taken over by various groups and had all manners of “siding” added to them, everything from sheets and pieces of plastic and blue tarps to one very nicely done with palm fronds. Approaching it on the access road, I decided quickly that I didn’t want to venture in. There was what looked like an area where folks were trying to barter for stuff as well as a couple of very animated arguments going on. The one that caught my ear was over the accused theft of a coat. One guy had it, and another was claiming it as his. I didn’t see any weapons or anyone trying to intervene.

Think
I’ll
just
bypass
this
lil
patch
of
heaven
, I thought. That was when a woman started walking out toward me from the side of the big rock. There was this big-ass rock sitting near the restrooms at this rest area; even before this, the rock was perpetually coated in graffiti. Her approach was a little too determined for my comfort, though. As she got closer, she spoke up. “Where ya headed?”

“Home,” was all I replied.

She kind of rolled her eyes. “Well, duh, we’re all trying to get home.” She closed that with a big smile. “Where’s home?”

“Down south.” I just jutted my head in a southerly direction.

“I’m trying to get to Gainesville.” She was now walking along with me. “My name’s Jessica.”
Ah, shit, this is getting way more involved than I want to be.
I stopped and looked at her. She was at least twenty years younger than me, not a bombshell but attractive.

“Look, I don’t want to be rude, but I’m not looking for any company. As a matter of fact, I’m looking for the opposite. All I want to do is get home to my wife and kids.” I was trying to put her off, but I think I screwed that up.

“Look, mister, all I want is to get home too. My mom and dad are just outside of Gainesville. I’ve been here since everything went out, and it’s starting to get pretty rough. They were bringing food and water from town out here to us, I guess to keep us from walking in there, but this morning they said it was the last trip. They also said if we came to town all they would do was let us pass through; we can’t stay there.” The look in her eyes showed the very real desperation she felt. “A single girl on the road doesn’t have a chance. I’d never make it, just like a single man can’t always watch his back.” This was her deal closer.

“I’m sorry; I just don’t have the stuff to take care of you. I’m sorry.” I was starting to feel bad, but what the hell could I do?

“I have everything I need. I go to FSU. Dad hates it, being from Gainesville and all. But I was going home on a break, so I have all my stuff with me—clothes, backpack, blankets, everything. I don’t really have any food, but who does? You said you’re married with kids, and you aren’t ogling me, and you’re like what, thirty-five? Please just let me walk with you. Please?”

Well, fuck me runnin’! I did not need this crap. But she was right about not being able to watch my back; one man cannot provide sufficient security for himself. But since when was thirty-five old? And I had a few more years than that, too.

“How did you end up here?” I was still looking for an out.

“I was at the rest area taking a pee break. When I came out, the car wouldn’t start.” That answered my next question about where her stuff was. I guess I was resigned to my fate here.

“Look, Jessica, it’s a free country, and I can’t stop you from walking down the road, but I’m also not going to let you hold me up. I have a long walk ahead of me and people depending on me on the other end.” I was definitely resigned to my fate at this point.

Like a teenage girl, a huge smile spread across her face. She clasped her hands together in front of her chest and let out a little squeal. “Let me get my stuff. I’ll be right back!” She took off at a run toward her car.

Oh, this is just fuckin’ great. What in the hell are you going to do with a twenty-two-year-old girl?
I was thinking when the other side of my brain piped up,
I can think of a few—

Don’t even think about it.

Can’t blame me for tryin’
. I was really starting to get a little worried about these intracranial discussions.

I was watching her as she was heading back toward me. A guy called out to her, “Hey, where you goin’?”

“I’m gonna walk home. Can’t wait any longer.” She turned quickly away and started walking. The dude was standing there with his arms half raised and palms out.

“Aww, come on.”

I was standing there shaking my head when she came back up. She had a large black JanSport backpack on. There was some sort of a blanket rolled up and strapped to the bottom of it. She was in jeans and running shoes and had a North Face jacket on.

“Friend of yours?” I asked.

“He wishes,” she said with a sour look. “He’s part of the reason I want out of here. Acts like he’s the great white hunter and is taking care of me. I know what he’s up to. I’m not going to hold you up, and I’m not some weak little girl, either. I’ll do what I have to do to get home. What’s your name, anyway?”

“Name’s Morgan. You know what you’re in for here, right?” I wanted to see how aware she was.

“I can shit in the woods, Morgan.” That made me laugh; she smiled.

“Okay, then, let’s go.”

We headed down the road, walking for a while without talking much. More people were on the road—not many but certainly more than I had seen in the last few days. Most were loping along. They weren’t interested in talking. They looked—resigned, I guess would be the way they looked. Reality was setting in. You could see it on their faces and by the way they carried themselves. I was surprised that Jessica wasn’t talking her head off. I really expected her to be yakking at me to the point of insanity.

I was the one that actually spoke first. “What made you ask to walk with me?”

“You were the only person that came by that didn’t come into the rest area. You have that pack and just look like you have your shit together.” She was very matter-of-fact.

“So all the people there have been drifting in?” I asked.

“Some of them were there from the beginning. Like that guy that was talking to me, Luke. He was there from the start, him and his dad. They had the pavilion with all the blue tarps on it. They kind of took over. They act like they run the place.” She was shaking her head as she spoke. “Luke acted like I was his woman. Oh, he was real nice, but I could tell where it was going. He wasn’t going to keep taking no for an answer much longer, if ya know what I mean.” She raised her eyebrows as she said that last line. She had stepped up beside me now.

“Any violence there, or did everyone just kinda get along?” I was curious to see how people were reacting. I hadn’t been around too many people. At least not too many I hadn’t killed. This thought brought me down; it’s kinda like a weight that will settle on you if you let it. I brushed it aside.

“Not really. Luke’s dad has a big-ass revolver. He appointed himself the de facto law. It was actually kind of a good thing. He kept a bunch of fights from getting out of hand. But at the same time, whatever he wanted, he got. No one argued with him because no one else there had a gun.”

“Well, that’s the new reality. We used to say it was the golden rule—he who has the gold makes the rules. Now it’s going to be the law of lead—he who has the most lead makes the rules.” She just looked over at me and didn’t say anything.

We had been walking for a couple of hours and were coming up to a wood mill on the south side of the road. I knew this was only a couple of miles outside of Perry. We should be there in the early afternoon, plenty of time to get in and get out.

“Is there anything you need to try and get when we get in town?” I was hoping the answer would be no.

“Well, if they are giving anything out, I’m gonna get whatever I can, especially food. I don’t have any. And water, I only have one little water bottle.” She held up a Zephyrhills water bottle that was about half full. I thought about what she said. At least she was smart enough to know what the priorities were.

“Well, I don’t want to be there long. I want to get in and out as fast as we can. There isn’t anything I really need. I want to put some distance between us and town before it gets too dark to find a place to sleep.”

“Yeah, they won’t let us stay in town anyway, and there will probably be a bunch of people hitting the road when they start telling them to leave.” She made a point I hadn’t considered.

“When did they tell you guys that they wouldn’t let you stay in town?” I asked.

“This morning, Luke’s dad started saying they should march on the town. He’s a freakin’ idiot.”

We walked along for a few more hours, not really saying much. The terrain had changed little since we passed the mill, except there were more houses and more people. The closer we got, the more there was. I wouldn’t call it urban, far from it, but compared to what we had walked through, it was like the big city. I glassed the road ahead.

“Looks like we should be in town soon. I think I can see the roadblock up ahead.” I nodded up the road.

“Yeah, it’ll be interesting to see what happens when we get there,” Jessica said.

After another fifteen or twenty minutes, we approached the roadblock. It was located at Main Street and Highway 19 and was exactly what you would expect. They had a bunch of cars pushed out into the road. They had them set up so you had to walk through a kind of gauntlet; it wasn’t a straight shot through. At each of the places that made a ninety-degree turn, the barricade was two cars deep. You weren’t just going to crash through here even if you could find a vehicle to try it with.

The roadblock was manned by an assortment of police and what would come to be known as militia. The weapons were as assorted as you might think, everything from deer rifles and shotguns to the occasional battle rifle. Whoever set these guys up, though, had some tactical experience. Those with shotguns were along the edge of the gauntlet. They had defined fields of fire and were staggered throughout the maze. There was one guy with a scoped rifle and another with a battle rifle at the entrance. There were others with scoped rifles on the backside of the barricade, along with a couple of battle rifles. To the rear of the barricade was on old Chevron station; it was closed down, but the garage doors had been opened up. A couple of old trucks and a few ATVs were parked under the gas pump awning. Milling about was what appeared to be the reaction force—about ten men just hanging out, all armed.