I search all through the house but I’ve never put it in a particular spot, which I guess is why I often forget to wear it. Our house isn’t the most organized to begin with. Abby is neat and tidy while I’m a borderline slob. Like most kids, I grew up with a very messy bedroom. The only time it was ever cleaned was when my mom forced me to. Now that I’m out of her house, I never seem to do it.
After searching for another twenty minutes, I decide it’s a lost cause and give up. After all of that effort, I realize all I have to do to know the time is check the clock in my car. My mind has been wandering so much today I never even paid attention to the clock when I was messing with the radio stations. I make my way into the garage, turn the ignition on halfway, and pause for a second until the time begins to display on the radio dashboard. It’s 2:30 p.m.
With this realization, I think it’s best I make my way to Abby’s office. Deep down I have a feeling that this is the right thing to do. Abby works in Chesterfield, Ohio, which is a fairly large city by my standards. I remember looking it up once and seeing it was something like the twelfth biggest city in Ohio. There are bound to be some people there. Even if an immediate evacuation of the city was declared, with over sixty thousand people some of them are likely to stay put. I know when I make my way over there I may or may not see Abby, but I’ll definitely see somebody. That I’m sure of.
Abby normally gets off work at 5:00, and gets home at 5:45. Because she didn’t drive to work today, her schedule may be a little off so I better get there soon. She would be very worried if she got home and I wasn’t there.
Before I make my way out, I want to see how much gas is left in Abby’s car. Even if her tank is almost empty, I’m still going to Chesterfield. Having gas in her car though gives me more options assuming the power is out for the next couple of days. I open her door and, using the key I have, I turn the ignition halfway. The dial shoots its way up and I see she has three-quarters of a tank. Woo-hoo, I’ll take it!
I plan on making a down-and-back trip, so I’ll still take my car over. It has about 130 miles left before it runs out of gas and the round trip to Chesterfield is about ninety miles. That gives me some wiggle room in case I want to drive around.
I manually open up the garage door and start the drive toward Chesterfield. It’s time to get some answers about what’s going on.
Chapter 4
During the trip, I make a point of paying more attention to what’s going on around me. This is not the time to bury myself in thoughts and forget the drive. I think back to the movie Shaun of the Dead, one of my favorite zombie/comedy movies. There’s a scene in the beginning in which he goes about his morning routine and is so oblivious to his surroundings that he doesn’t even notice everyone around him is a zombie. As silly as it looks in the movie, I could see myself doing the same thing.
To get to the highway, I must take a similar path to the one I took to the grocery store earlier. As I look around, it looks like much of the same. Everything appears normal except for any trace of human existence. You can still see the occasional car parked at the end of a parking lot. The buildings obviously still appear exactly like they did the day before, but the traffic lights aren’t working and no cars are out on the road.
It reminds me of driving on an early Saturday morning. I like to get up early, even on the weekends. Occasionally, I make an early grocery-shopping trip when there isn’t any food in the house for breakfast. Whenever I leave, I’m always amazed at how few cars are out on the roads. I mean, I’ve driven on highways before at four o’clock in the morning, and there are always several cars out. Early morning in town, though, I rarely see anyone out. In its weird little way, early grocery shopping is a fun and pleasant experience.
The highway is only a block or so away from the grocery store. I feel the anticipation of what’s to come starting to build up inside me. Sure, little Nowhere, Ohio may be a ghost town, but it’s a large world out there and I’m ready to see that things are normal just over the horizon.
I pull onto the on ramp and head west towards Chesterfield in pursuit of my Abby. It just occurs to me, if I make my way over there and see her, she’s going to be shocked to see me. She knows this is a big day for me, and she’ll probably expect a report of great news. I’m going to have to think about what I’m going to say first. Saying I was a scared little puppy and that everyone is gone and I had to run away from home is an embarrassing story to tell, even if it is Abby I’m telling it to.
I’ll bet when I do tell her what I’ve done today, she’ll give me that “You’re an idiot” look and remind me of the reason why things are the way they are. That, or she’ll roll her eyes and think I’m crazy.
The highway is completely deserted for as far as I can see. In my younger days I would have loved this and driven as fast as my little Chevy Cavalier would take me. My reckless days are gone now though and I drive like an old person. I feel as if I’m living on the edge when I drive any more than five miles per hour over the speed limit.
Today is different. There’s nobody around, and I’m starting to feel more and more adventurous. It’s the first time I’ve ever pulled onto I-70 West and not had a string of cars willing to run me over for entering their highway. I can see about two miles in front of me and my foot starts to push harder on the pedal. I don’t quite reach the 90 or 100 of my youth; when I hit eighty-five miles per hour it’s enough to give me a heart attack. I feel a small rush of adrenaline pour over me as I speed down the highway at a speed I haven’t driven in ten years.
It makes me feel old knowing I’ve been driving for ten years. Many of my high-school friends are driving around in Minivans carrying a couple kids. The years go by so fast.
As I zip around the corner, I slow down to be near the speed limit. The last thing I need is to flip the car over. It’s amazing how slow the speed limit feels when you’ve being going so much faster. It seems as if you could get out of your car and walk faster. When I see no one is coming and I have a long, straight stretch of highway in front of me, I kick the car back to over eighty miles per hour.
Up ahead I remember there’s a small town where I used to golf. It has electric carts so there’s no chance of filling up my tank. The town is the kind of place where everyone can walk to anywhere they need. Every time I’ve been there, there are always lots of people outside. It’s just off the highway, so a quick drive by the main road seems like a good idea.
I pull off the exit ramp and make a left off the ramp. I laugh a little because I notice I still put on my turn signal. Of all of the things drivers do and don’t do, not putting on a turn signal annoys me the most. It’s pure laziness. How hard is it to flick your wrist up or down when you’re turning?
I approach the main street area where there are a few local stores and restaurants on the left. On the right is a great little ice cream shop I usually hit up after my round. It has a playground in the back that’s normally packed with kids playing and wearing ice cream stained T-shirts. Because it’s fall, I have to admit I’ve never actually been here during this time of year. I only play golf when it’s nice out. When I pull over I see the still, empty swing sets. The local coffee shop up ahead is empty too. All of the lights seem to be out in every little store as far as I can see. There are still a few cars parked on the road so I haven’t given up hope yet. Not as many cars as a typical day but enough for me to believe people were around in the not too distant past.