They ate quietly, Elly glancing around at the occasional passers-by. The day had warmed a little and things were quiet when they got back to the camper. Mike assumed most of the men were off on some kind of movement or training; there had been a lot of activity just before sunup, with people walking and talking, vehicles starting up and driving out. They cleaned the camper and got ready to go. Elly asked her mother if she could ride ‘shotgun.’ Marie agreed and Elly waited for her to get in, before climbing in beside her. She looked around hopefully as they slowly drove the circular road to the gate. Mike knew, of course, who she was looking for, but said nothing. As they came out onto the highway Elly’s face darkened.
“What’s the matter, Hon,” Marie asked, knowing full well what the matter was.
“Aw, I wanted to say good-bye to Gabe.”
Mike nodded. “Maybe we’ll see him again,” he lied.
“Really?” said Elly, brightening.
Marie smiled sadly at Mike, but said nothing.
“It’s possible,” said Mike.
Mike drove south. Soon Marie and Elly were asleep. When his odometer indicated they’d driven eighty miles he slowed and searched the wood line on the left carefully. He spotted the turnoff at the 86 mile mark, indicated by a short metal stake in the ground. He slowed further and turned in.
The road was flat and maintained. After a mile or so it came to a fork. Mike cursed under his breath as he stopped. Marie awoke. Moore hadn’t said anything about a fork in the road. Which one was he supposed to take? He took the one on the right.
“You sure this is right?” said Marie.
“Yeah,” he said, “as sure as eeney meeny miney moe will get you.”
They drove for about a half hour until the road came to an end at a deserted ranch of sorts—an old water tower rose above a small, dilapidated house with a caved-in roof and all the windows broken out.
“Shit,” said Mike as he stared out at it. “This sure as hell ain’t the right road.”
“Well, at least we only wasted an hour or so.”
“Yeah. We got another half-hour or so just to get back to the fork.”
They were quiet as they drove back, looking out at the thinly forested land on both sides of the road. By the time they arrived at the fork it was already one o’clock. Mike said nothing, turning the truck onto the left fork. They drove on.
The next forty or so miles of road was paved, then deteriorated into a sandy track. The camper creaked and swayed as Mike negotiated the ruts and scattered rocks and branches lying in the road.
Elly woke. “Where are we?”
“Well,” said Mike, “we’re still trying to get around the area that was closed off, so we can pick up the main road further north.”
Elly stared out at the thin growth on both sides of the truck. “I don’t like it here,” she said.
Mike said nothing. They drove for another hour and the forest grew thicker, the light more anemic. It was after two.
“How much longer?” said Marie.
“I’m guessing at least four or more hours just to get to the main road above the militia camp.”
“That would mean driving this in the dark, or camping out here.”
“I know,” he said.
“Maybe we should just go back to where we were and wait for them to open the road.”
“Jeez,” said Mike, “we’ve come this far. Let’s just go a little further.”
Mike drove for another ten minutes and then slowed and pulled to the side, bringing the truck to a stop.
“What is it?” said Marie.
Mike pointed ahead. About a quarter-mile up the road an old pickup truck was parked. It appeared empty, but it was too far away to be certain. “Maybe someone’s there. We can ask them how much farther to get to the main road.”
Marie nodded as Mike began driving slowly forward. He stopped a couple hundred feet back and left the engine running. “Better let me get out by myself and check it out.”
“Okay,” said Marie, “be careful.”
Mike nodded. “Lock the doors.” He walked slowly up the road, looking left and right. He was conscious of the weight of the .38 in his pocket. He heard nothing and there was no sign of anyone. When he was about twenty feet from the pickup he made out someone’s head leaning back against the cab window. He put his hand into his pocket, fondling the .38 as he approached the truck’s window. The glass was dirty and a large spider web hung from the headliner down to the floor of the cab. The man was on the other side of it, as if behind a curtain. Head back, mouth wide open, his cheeks were hollow and the skin on his face yellow. An empty bottle of gin lay on the seat to his right. Mike figured he’d washed down some pills with it.
Mike turned and looked briefly around. He didn’t want to take Marie and Elly any further up this road. It was too remote, too quiet. There was no telling what was ahead. He turned back to the truck, looking closely at the dead man’s face. Something dark moved in his mouth—a good sized spider peered out. It seemed to be aware of Mike’s scrutiny and backed away into the mouth out of sight.
Mike was about to start back when he heard the putter of a motorcycle engine from around the bend in the road. His pulse picked up and he reached into his pocket to fondle the .38. He heard the bike shift gears as it approached. He heart began pounding. The bike rounded the bend, a middle-aged man giving him an appraising look as he rode past.
Mike composed his expression as he walked back to the camper.
Marie unlocked the door and he got in. “What happened up there?” she said.
Elly watched him closely.
“Just some old guy sitting in there, drunk. He said that the road further up is partly washed out. Who knows if we’ll be able to cross it? We should just turn around and head back to the main road.”
“Some guy on a motorcycle rode by,” said Elly.
“I know.”
Marie looked at Mike, but said nothing. Mike turned the truck around and started back. After they turned onto the main road, Elly broke the silence with a cheery voice, “Maybe Gabe will be there when we get back.”
“Maybe,” said Marie, “but it’s also possible the road will be open and we can continue north.”
“I hope not,” said Elly, “I want to stay at the camp again. I want to see Gabe.”
Mike had no intention of staying at the camp again and was pleased when Marie gently laughed at Elly’s comment. He had already decided to drive slower and give More and his men more time to clear the road north. “Yeah,” he said, “well, we’ll just have to wait and see what happens.”
They drove for another hour as the light waned and the temperature began to drop. Mike said to Marie, “I think we should just find a good place to camp for the night. We’ll hit the Militia check point in the morning or early afternoon. I don’t want to get there after dark.”
“Yeah, I think you’re right.”
“Aw,” said Elly.
“It’s okay, Hon,” said Marie.
Mike had already tamped down their camp fire. Sulfurous-smelling steam wafted off of it, occasionally reaching his nostrils as he tied the chairs and table to the back rack of the rig. Marie and Elly were in the camper getting ready for sleep. The sky was black, only the brightest stars visible, the rest obscured by low clouds. Mike tugged the rope hard, moving the rig slightly. He turned to look behind him. He wasn’t concerned about animals; it was people that worried him. He saw nothing but comforting blackness and returned to his task. As he reached for the door to the camper, a flash of red in the northern distance caught his eye. It was like lightning, but ruby red. He walked away from the camper out toward the road, clear of the overhanging branches, and looked up. It came again, a thin red line, like tracers, but straight as an arrow, coming from the clouds down to the forest in the distance. He watched a few more moments until it was gone. He went back to the camper and put his hand on the door knob. He heard Elly talking to her mother. He could tell from her voice she’d been crying. He held back a moment to allow Marie time to soothe her. No doubt they’d been talking about Elly’s attraction to Gabe. Mike felt a familiar pang of sadness. They’d almost broken up over Elly. When the extent of her developmental problems became evident, the need to find an explanation had led them to blame each other. Only prayer and sage-like restraint had enabled them to get through that phase. Mike thought of praying again now but couldn’t bring himself to do it. The whole fucking world had gone crazy and God was either indifferent, or off in some other galaxy helping more-deserving creatures. Before climbing into the camper, Mike looked around at the darkened trees once more, wondering what the streak of red light had meant. Inside, things had quieted. He locked the door behind him and got in the bed next to Marie. He fell asleep quickly and slept soundly until the chirping of birds announced the dawn.