The larger backpack Rose had insisted he take had proven immensely helpful, enabling him to carry enough supplies to make the final dash home, and now he was almost there. Mile marker 120. He imagined, for the five thousandth time, bursting through the front door, Spencer and Emma running into his arms, Jennifer, standing, waiting for him to run to her, David, acting cool and unimpressed, sauntering over to give him a one-armed hug… 119… How had his family done without him? What had they eaten? Were they safe?… 118… The fall colors in Montana were just as beautiful as he remembered, the mountains as majestic, the sky as blue… 117… The businesses on the frontage road looked rough, most of them vandalized, with windows missing, and the insides stripped of anything valuable… 116… The sun was setting. It was going to be late when he got there. He hoped the kids would still be awake… 115… His stomach rumbled with hunger, but he was too anxious to stop. The sign at the gas station at his exit was now in view… 114… Just one more mile on the highway, the off-ramp now in full view… 113.
Kyle walked slowly down the off-ramp of exit 113, his head swimming in ecstasy at all the sights that were so familiar to him: the gas station he usually filled up at, the road he drove everyday to work, the street going north to his best friend’s house, and the dark shadow of Missoula in the distance. He stopped at the bottom of the ramp and fought to hold back the tears. This was his home, where his heart belonged, where he would find his family. The last fingers of sunlight lit the scene for him, one of the most beautiful vistas he could remember. Kyle noticed the cars dead at the pumps and the doors of the gas station broken open. In the dim light he could see that the store was gutted and the diner across the street was likewise ransacked. The scene reminded him that suffering and chaos existed in his town too. He had somehow thought, or hoped, that the people in Deer Creek would be a little more civilized, a little more capable of handling the situation, but realized they too would do what they needed to, to survive.
Kyle took his pack off his back and set it on the ground beside him. He tossed out his clothes, blankets, and maps, keeping only his food, journal, guns, and water. He shouldered his load again, cinched the waist strap, and headed down the home stretch. With his pack lightened, Kyle started to run. Three miles down this road, then left for a mile and he’d be in the community of Deer Creek. A couple of turns from there, and he’d be home. There had been countless days of walking, and now he was an hour from home. He ran as fast as he could. Everything was familiar, like it had been, kept alive in his memory for the past three months. It was dark when he made it to the first turn, and by then he was losing steam and had to slow to a fast walk. In the distance he could make out the big house that marked the corner of his street.
Breathing heavily, Kyle finally stood in front of his house, the sweat running down his back, his eyes wet with tears. The grass seemed a little long, but everything was what he’d remembered and envisioned for the past weeks. He walked to the door, trying to control his emotions, paused a second, then reached for the handle to throw it open, but it was locked. He pounded on the door with his fist and stood back and listened but heard nothing from inside the house. Concerned, he slowly walked through the darkness to the back of the house and tugged on the sliding glass door. To his relief, it slid open, and he stepped inside. “Jennifer?” Kyle called out, anxiety creeping in. He waited and listened. No response. He walked down the hall to his bedroom and scanned the room. It was dark and difficult to see, but he could tell that the bed was empty and messy, missing the sheets, and appeared not to have been used for a while. As he turned to leave, Kyle noticed dark spots on the wall, spots that, upon closer inspection, looked like blood, both splattered, and smeared down the wall. Then he saw large, dark stains in the carpet, and his heart skipped a beat.
Kyle’s mind erupted in a panic. What had happened? He ran to the front door, threw it open, and ran next door to the Anderson’s. He pounded frantically on their door. “Charles! Grace!” he called out. There was no sound or movement from inside. He ran to the house across the street, trying to think of the people’s names. He pounded on the front door and waited. Hearing nothing, he pounded again before finally hearing footsteps inside the house. As the steps approached the front door, Kyle heard a man’s voice through the door. “Go away! I’ve got a gun!”
“I’m sorry, but this is Kyle Tait. I live across the street.”
“I said go away!” the man snapped.
“I’m trying to find my family!” hollered Kyle back through the door.
“Go away! I’m not opening my door!”
“Please!” yelled Kyle in desperation. As he leaned towards the door, he heard the sound of a shotgun being pumped. “Okay, I’m going,” Kyle shouted. He ran to the next house. It had been empty and for sale before he left and still had the realtor’s sign in the front yard.
At the next house down, Kyle banged on the front door, then waited until he heard someone approach the door. “Who’s there?” came a voice.
“My name is Kyle Tait. I’m looking for my family.”
“They aren’t here. It’s just me and my wife.”
“They,” he started, then caught himself. “We live across the street, in the blue house. Do you know what happened to them?’
Kyle heard the deadbolt being turned, and then the door opened slowly. A man in his mid-50’s wearing a white Budweiser t-shirt stepped out onto the porch, nervously holding a pistol in his hands. He pointed the pistol at Kyle and eyed him with suspicion. “I told you, they aren’t here.”
Kyle raised his hands and stepped back down off the porch. “I don’t want any trouble. I’m just looking for my family.”
“Who did you say you were?” the man asked again.
“I’m Kyle Tait. That’s my house,” Kyle said, pointing down the street towards his home. “I’ve been gone, but now I’m back, and my family isn’t there. I’m just trying to find out where they are.” Kyle was tired and scared and could feel himself losing control of his emotions.
The man thought a second, considering whether or not to tell Kyle anything, then shrugged his shoulders and began. “There was a shooting there a couple of weeks ago. The lady shot Doug, the sheriff guy. I don’t know if you know him. Anyway, what I heard was that the kid caught Doug in the bedroom with his mother and tried to fight him. The boy ended up getting stabbed pretty bad, then the lady shot Doug for stabbing her kid. At least that’s what some people are saying, but you know how people talk. I’m avoiding everyone right now, so who knows what the truth is. I did watch them carry a body out of the house, so I know somebody died. It’s all pretty nasty business. Everyone around here has been pretty scared now that Doug isn’t patrolling and with the break-ins and stuff.”
Kyle staggered back away from the man’s house. Everything around him started to swirl, and he collapsed to his knees.
The man gave Kyle a look. “You all right, mister?” he asked.
Kyle no longer heard the man. He dropped his head to the ground, losing awareness of everything around him. The horrible things the man had described echoed in his ears. A violent shudder seized his body, and he had a hard time catching his breath.