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Unfortunately, that was exactly what happened and for Trey, who was only 17 years old, it was a confirmation of his fears. Though almost an adult, he was still a child and it would mar him for the rest of his existence.

“Why don’t you just go away for good this time,” Trey told him.

Why was that the last thing he had to say to this father?

Jennifer, his wife, tried to calm him down.

“Malcolm, don’t worry about it. He’s a teenage boy. He will be fine. Take him somewhere when you get back,” she said

Malcolm let it bother him only a little. Then mentally planned a father son outing for when he got back. He finished packing, kissed and told Trey about the plan, despite not getting any response and left. The others were fine.

He had three sons altogether Sam and Jenner, eight and ten years old, were absolutely fine with him leaving. They would be kicked back with their feet propped up playing their video games, Their goodbye was a nod of acknowledgement, telling him to have a good trip, and they knew that they would get reimbursed in a fatherly way when Malcolm returned. Nearly everyone always told Malcolm that he should be happy he had sons. That boys were much easier to raise than girls. Those same people never had a child like Trey. He was always emotionally needy and moody. Malcolm related that to his mother’s leaving at such an early age. Jennifer, was the only mother he really ever knew.

Malcolm thought a lot about his family as he sat parked off the side of the road deep in the brush on his break for the evening. He thought a lot about Amy. And feelings of guilt resurfaced in him. He didn’t have time to bury her, he had to leave her where she was. He also felt bad because one of the last things she said to him was a request for him to find her family.

Please, find them
, she said. And Malcolm was again, barraged with feelings of guilt. Not only did he leave her in that field, he took the route to Denver, his hometown, instead of Albuquerque.

His thought process was to find his family first. Perhaps if any of them were alive, he could get answers. If not, he would go to Amy’s home next. He wasn’t even sure where that was.

But going there first was not an option. Malcolm often placed everything before his family. Especially work and leaving for trips. But this time, he was making them his top priority.

Even if he never saw them again, for once and possibly the last time, they would come first.

Unintentionally bragging that we had the shorter journey inadvertently caused a chain reaction of bad Karma to come our way. Suddenly our route was no longer short. There was no way around Nashville. There was no end of the fence in sight and even if we could break through the overgrown wilderness, I was not quite so sure I wanted to see what happened to that city.

It was ground zero.

We learned that the virus was released in air ducts in planes.

The percentage of planes being affected depended on the population of each country.

I’m left to wonder how this happened.

If this was a government plan or some scientific group plan to decrease population, then why did the government step in and set up such an extensive quarantine area to stop the virus is spreading?

I suppose these were just questions on my mind, ones that I hope got answered

After backtracking a good distance, we found a road that veered far west, and could take it around into Kentucky.

Just as the buggy puttered out and it’s last little bit of energy we pulled off to the side of the road. We set up a nice camp in the open, but protected by nature’s foliage.

Jason’s mood got better. Almost as if seeing Nashville changed him. To him he received answers. They tried to stop the virus. He held a lot of hope.

I only pray that he’s not headed into a cascading world of disappointment and hurt.

He spoke a lot to me on the way to find a camping spot. And then he spoke about his wife Melissa for the first time. The woman he talked about seemed like a wonderful person, understanding, and a sweet beautiful perfect wife.

I was far from the perfect wife. I didn’t cook, I cleaned when I felt inspired or if we were having company. Just wasn’t my thing. But I was, however, a very good mother. My heart aches for my children. I miss them so much. I hope above all things that I can see them one more time. But there is this tiny spot inside my chest saying don’t count on it.

I started for the first time, feeling tired, I hadn’t felt tired in days. Although, I have been sleeping for years, at least I think.

I likened myself to Sigourney Weaver in the movie Alien. Waking up after a long time in stasis. Waking to a new world. Everyone I knew and loved, gone.

I hope I’m wrong. I did, however, learn something new.

Those protein bars weren’t actually protein bars. Those nifty foil packs that were sealed airtight. The ones that contained the square that looked like nothing more than the bark of a tree. They were actually meals. I guess I was flashing back to my days in the service. I was still baffled on how that was not something I recalled right away. Especially after seeing the foil wrapped food. I assumed what there was in the packs was what we ate.

Nothing fancy.

Nothing hidden, once I learned that, and read the package, I submerged it in a glass of water. The unappealing substance went from the brown rock to a gravy and vegetable stew. Not only did they taste better, they were much more filling.

I kind of thought they were tasty before. In fact, everything in those tightly air sealed packs were ‘submerge and go’ food. We stuck the contents in the water and suddenly they grew.

Sort of like the toys I used to buy the girls, little tiny figures you would stick in a glass of water and suddenly they were big. The water made them expand.

The warm food was a welcome relief. It helped at night. The temperature dropped drastically. That was to be expected.  Even though I had grabbed the camping gear, I didn’t pull out the sleeping bag. More than likely it was my not wanting to roll it back up. Instead I opted for the thermal gear.  The space age blanket, as thin as it was, did a nice job keeping me warm. For some reason I have a lot of apprehension about lighting a fire. We don’t know what’s out there. Even though we haven’t seen anyone, it doesn’t mean it’s safe. The light would travel for miles and only invite trouble. The small pen flashlight worked enough for me.

At night there isn’t much to do but, write in the journal and hope that the battery charges enough to keep us moving. The buggies were amazing vehicles. A few hours after the sun rises, we will be ready to roll.

I am filled with anxiety over the uncertainty.

Tomorrow is another day. Another day traveling
, a
nother day of wishing for a bright outcome.

John thought he was the first one awake. Then he saw he wasn’t. Grant was awake. He was staring out, sitting with knees bent, arms crossed over them. Just staring at nothing saying nothing. Meredith was still asleep. Out like a light. John supposed she had worked all evening and it showed. Using her backpack as a pillow while wound tightly in her sleeping roll, papers sprawled out everywhere around her head, held down by rocks to keep them from flapping and flying in the wind.

No matter how wrong, and inappropriately timed it was, John sort of found her adorable. Of course, John was womanizer. Meredith was the type of woman that he would have an affair with. Not a one night stand. Those were for floozies and young girls. For a long-term commitment outside his marriage, it was an intelligent woman he needed.

John was a piece of shit in his marriage. He wasn’t always that bad. In fact at one point in time he was a dutiful and wonderful husband. That was back in their humbling days of living in a trailer, while he taught first grade at the local Catholic school. His wife worked two jobs to make ends meet at times while carrying a child. Then John decided to write a novel and then another. His wife was supportive in his endeavors even with how much of an ass he turned into once he achieved success.

Along with the book tours, came the affairs, one right after another. John wasn’t a bad looking guy. Better looking in his youth that he was in his seasoned years. But he was a charmer with a perfect smile and a still handsome face.

His wife forgave him time after time. John supposed was because she knew she was going to get a ton of money if they ever divorced, or maybe she had it in her mind to kill him and make even more money.

It wasn’t that John didn’t love his wife. He did. Actually he adored her. She was a wonderful person. But as time grew the conversations were boring and she let herself go a little, and at times, intellectually stifled him.

As Nora told him upon their first meeting, he was a dick. John wouldn’t argue. His wife deserved much better than him. She deserved to be happy. John did nothing but give her misery.

Using the Coleman stove, John made some coffee. He’d let it perc
o
late and when it was finished he would wake up Meredith. After she got her wits about her with a few ounces of caffeine then he’d question what she learned in her paperwork. After that, it was time to move on. With any luck they would be in Washington DC or on the outskirts by the end of the day

<><><><>

Revitalized. If there was a word that Nora could use to describe Jason it would be that word.

Revitalized.

Nora had no idea what time she went to bed. She only knew that the birds were chirping and the sun was starting to come up.

Birds.

It was the first time she heard any signs of life at all. The birds chirped, not many, and not like the summer or spring mornings she recalled sitting on her deck reading, being captured into a good book, drawn in by the words, then hearing the insane amount of chirping. That would always cause her to lift her head from her electronic reading device and see the sky had started to become light.

That was what she heard before she fell asleep. It wasn’t the birds that kept her up. Not the noise but the essence of life. She hadn’t seen an animal or bird at all. It was a sign that things may actually be brighter than she had imagined. Because in Nora’s mind, things were dim. She prepared herself for darkness. And the lights would be a welcome surprise.

How long had she been sleeping? She didn’t know, and she looked at her watch that had been placed in the stasis units with them. If she only knew what time she fell asleep she’d be able to gauge how long she slumbered.

She felt rested, and the time was after nine AM. That alone told her the battery was charged enough for them to get moving. Jason moved around at a high energy level. He fixed coffee, and made breakfast out of that yellow powder which turned out to be eggs.

“We have to watch our water,” said Jason

“I know. We don’t know what it’s like out there, or if there is fresh water anywhere to be found. Hey, at least we have the purifiers.”

“Yeah,” Jason said. “At least we have that.” He then snapped his finger as if he just remembered something. “You said you were in the service, right?”

“Right.”

“So I’m guessing you have mad survival skills.”

Nora laughed. “Hardly.”

“But don’t they teach you that stuff in the service?”

“Yes, they do. I have some. But not like you would think.”

“I thought you saw combat.” Jason said

“I did. I was a radio operator.” I said. “So I have some technical skills. I also am pretty smart to know that we shouldn’t drink the water unless we find it in a fresh well. Even then, we should run it through our purifier bottles.”

Following what normally was inane conversation, they ate their breakfast and packed up what little things they had set up as a camp. Things would look bright. The sun was shining pretty well, the weather was perfect and the slight breeze would keep it cool.

Within hours they would have the first of their answers. Because within hours… they would be at Jason’s home.

<><><><>

Malcolm lost a good hour and a half of travel. He figured that out because when they began their journey they were heading west. Amy’s family was the first stop. Now, since her passing, all that had changed.

He switched gears, and direction. He now headed north. And then he would head more westward when he neared where he had to be. He figured by the end of his day’s journey, he would be west of St. Louis and a little bit closer to home.

It was more gut instinct that told Malcolm it was a good thing they didn’t head north to begin with. That Nashville was a bust. It wasn’t just the closed highways that would head that way, but something more telling. The most ominous thing he saw was the green ‘miles to go’ sign. A simple guide for travelers became a source of sadness for Malcolm. On the green sign, in red paint, not only was ‘Nashville’ crossed out, but in droopy red spray paint across the top, were the words, “all dead there.”

Of all the signs on the road, all the city names he had seen, not once did another sign have a town crossed out.

He took the back roads, which added to his time. That was fine with him. After the run in with the crazy Cindy lady, Malcolm didn’t want to meet another person. In fact, he pulled out his revolver that had been packed for him, from the “just in case” supplies. He placed it next to him on the passenger seat. He wouldn’t hesitate to use it. It was loaded and ready to go. After that incident, he wasn’t giving anyone a chance to countdown his death.

His travels were filled with semi-clear roads, dusty roads, and nearly impossible to drive across roads. It was discouraging when he ran into those patches and had to hold his breath that the buggy would make it through. Just about two hours in his trip on the road, Malcolm felt a twinge of hunger in his stomach. He knew he should’ve eaten before he left. But he just wanted to move ahead. The faster he got ready and drove, the faster he would get home. He was making remarkable time and hated to stop. But his lower back was killing him and his knees ached from being cramped. He waited until he found a clear spot and then he pulled over into the brush.

Again he didn’t want to take a chance of being spotted or running into another crazy person. Obviously, if there was one, like Cindy, there were others.

He paused only briefly to eat quickly, walk off his aches, and then he got back into the buggy.

Another mile down the road he ran into a stoppage.

“Not again,” he said out loud

Another barrier. Workhorses painted yellow with some sort of faded signs were on them. It wasn’t the first time he ran into a road barrier, and it would not be the last.

As he had done every time before, he put the buggy in gear, stepped out and walked towards the barrier that ran across the road. It looked easier than the others. There weren’t many cars there. In fact he had to stop and remember where he was, what city was nearby, the road barriers tended to block off exits and sections before any towns.

He walked to the barrier. There were only two to move.

‘Those have been there while,’ he thought. He visually assessed them.  They were overgrown and the weeds were entangled around them. He wasn’t thinking. It had become a habit. A new routine. It was close to the tenth time he had to stop.

Malcolm grabbed hold of the first horse then shoved it to the side and when he grabbed hold of the second one he felt the searing, burning, rip to the side of his forearm. He whipped back his hand, with a, “God damn it” and shake of his arm. Blood flowed from it, seething at the sliced.

Was it a nail? Maybe a shard of wood, he didn’t know. He couldn’t even see if there was a large splinter in his arm, the blood flowed so profusely.

It irritated him.

He returned to the buggy quickly, rinsed it with some water, and wrapped it in a cloth. He hurriedly went back to the road barriers and cleared them away. His arm was a secondary thought.

He didn’t need another obstacle, or another delay. He just wanted to keep moving.