“That’s right,” Lisa said.
“I can drive,” Christine said.
“Perfect,” Nate said. “Brynn, you’re off the hook.”
“Can we find our way in the dark?" Lisa asked.
“Those tractors are rigged with twenty amps of lights per circuit. You could cook a hotdog with those lights,” Pete said.
While the others talked, Robby knelt down and pulled Sheila’s jacket off so he could drape it over her face. When he stood back up, all eyes turned to him.
“What do you think, Robby?” Pete asked.
“North,” Robby said.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Interstate 295 Corridor, Maine - WINTER
PETE WAS RIGHT about the lights on the tractor—they were almost too bright. As Robby watched the back of the big sled in front of him, the glare reflected off the snowmobile strapped there and the metal frame felt like it would burn his eyes. But every time he blinked he saw Ted’s slack face pressed against the bathroom floor, or Sheila’s tortured mouth as she tried to pull air into lungs which wouldn’t fill. Robby had seen plenty of dead bodies in the past five months, more than most people would see in ten lifetimes, but he’d only seen a couple die directly from his decisions.
The Bombardier tractor was easier to drive than a car. It used a joystick for speed and steering, and Pete was able to coach Christine in its operation over the radios. Robby turned down the volume on his handset as the rest of the group chattered back and forth. He figured they needed to talk to stay awake, but Robby had a co-pilot. He and Brynn took turns steering and napping; neither needed companionship to stay focused.
The miles ticked by slowly according to the odometer on the panel. The tractors pulled the heavy sleds steadily, but not rapidly. Robby held his radio in his left hand and steered with his right. After midnight, the chatter on the radio faded. The group checked in every five minutes. Starting from the front of the convoy, they announced their names in order to make sure everyone was still alert.
“Pete here.”
“Christine.”
“This is Lisa.” Robby thought she sounded the most tired. She slurred through her name.
“Romie here.”
“Nate.”
“Robby and Brynn,” Robby said. He kept his voice low to not wake Brynn.
“Brad in back.”
Early on, they talked about taking turns with who would lead the line of tractors, but Pete stayed up front. Robby thought it must be lonely, looking out at unbroken, endless snow and blazing the path north. Robby’s GPS worked most of the time. Sometimes the display would simply flash a satellite symbol, as if its view of the sky was blocked. Robby wondered how Pete stayed on course during those outages.
Pete led the line of tractors over a narrow bridge. Robby focused on the sled in front of him. On either side, the snow fell away fast and he saw only darkness. Robby jumped when Brad’s voice came on the radio.
“This is where I nearly went over the side. If anyone sees anything weird, jump on the radio,” Brad said. The group remained quiet.
Just north of a bridge, Pete’s voice came over the radio. “Should we veer off the highway and follow Brad’s tracks?”
“Nope,” Brad said. “I wandered for miles. The highway gets even closer to my house. Keep following your GPS, if you can.”
As they continued, Robby saw Brad’s snowmobile tracks veer off to the right. He wondered why the months hadn’t erased them. Flurries started about then, and Pete reassured the group that their tractors could operate in a blizzard if required. Fortunately, the snow stopped and they didn’t have to test Pete’s assertion.
“Everyone look good on fuel, oil pressure, and engine temp?” Pete asked on the radio.
“This is Christine—looks good here.”
“Lisa. All good.”
“Romie here. Looking fine.”
“Nate—good.”
“Everything’s fine,” Robby said. “Sorry. Everything’s fine with Robby and Brynn.”
“Brad. Looks fine.”
Robby looked up at Nate’s sled in front of him. Beyond the snowmobile, the bodies were lashed to the sled in a high stack. They were laid with their feet towards the front, and heads near the back. Before applying the straps over the whole pile, Pete and Nate had laid down green tarps. The tarps made it easier for the straps to slide over the pile without binding while they tightened. Robby saw the heads of the corpses, lined up like multicolored matchsticks. Near the top, something flopped with the jostling of the sled. It was the arm of one of the bodies.
They’d lined up all the corpses with their arms at their sides, but this one flopped out and now it bounced up and down with the motion of the sled. The straps were tight, but not tight enough to hold all the arms in place, apparently. Robby tried to imagine how the slight sway of the sled on the churned snow could make this arm flop out. He turned and looked back at the sled full of corpses his tractor pulled. He saw an orderly stack of shoes and bare feet. Nothing seemed unusual.
Robby jumped when Brynn spoke.
“Do you want me to drive now?” Brynn asked, suddenly awake.
“No, I’m okay,” Robby said. “You haven’t been asleep long. You can sleep longer if you want.”
“That’s okay,” Brynn said. “Where are we?”
“Somewhere near Kingston,” Robby said.
“Are we close to where we’re going?”
“Maybe.”
Robby casually glanced up at the floppy corpse arm in the sled ahead of them. It still bounced.
“Do you have to go to the bathroom?” Robby asked. On his last break, Robby stood on to the wide running board of the tractor and peed onto the rolling tracks. Brynn hadn’t gone since they’d started moving again.
“Can I tell you something?” Brynn asked.
“Sure,” Robby said.
“I’m not related to Nate,” Brynn said.
“I know,” Robby said.
Brynn looked at him and then back forward.
“You did not,” Brynn said.
“Not for sure,” Robby said, “but I figured.”
“Why do you always have to try to figure everything out? You’re not always so smart. I saw you crying in the bathroom.”
Robby nodded and lowered his head.
“Yeah,” Robby said.
“So why do you do it? Why don’t you just let things be?" Brynn asked.
“Is your name really Brynn?” Robby asked.
“Yes,” he said.
“Is anyone from your family still alive?” Robby asked.
“Yes. My granddaddy.”
“Why didn’t you stay with him?”
“You wouldn’t understand,” Brynn said. He looked down at his hands and rubbed them together in his lap.
Robby snuck another look at the flopping arm. Now it swung from side to side.
The radio crackled to life.
“This is Pete. How’s everyone doing?”
“Christine here. My hand is hurting a lot. I looked through this bag—are there any painkillers in here?”
“Christine, this is Romie. Look in the compartment on the passenger’s side.”
“Thanks,” Christine said.
“This is Lisa. Take the one with caffeine. The other one will make you sleepy.”
“Nate here.”
“Robby and Brynn.”
“Brad in back.”
On the panel in front of Robby, the satellite icon on the GPS began to flash. For the moment, the blue arrow hovered over the highway, but soon it would blink out and be replaced with an orange question mark. A few minutes after that, Robby knew the entire map would be replaced with the flashing satellite symbol. He wondered how long GPS would remain accurate. The satellites might remain in orbit, but he was pretty sure they relied on updates from ground stations to keep them useful.