I think in my grief-stricken state it was like she was still with me, I hadn’t lost her. Not yet. There was no shock and horror over her appearance, not that she looked normal, but she didn’t seem to look as bad as any other Vee I had seen.
Again, that was probably my distorted perception.
When I pulled over to tend to Edward, I looked again at the map. I set a goal. A release goal. If Leah was still with me by the time I reached the welcome center on Interstate 79, then I would make her go.
I had to. How much further could I take her along?
The journey reminded me so much of a game I used to play as a child. It was called, Oregon Trail. A poor-graphic game that made the player plan out a survival trip during the westward expansion. You put in your name, the members of your family, and with an allotted amount of money, the player would purchase enough supplies to get his family from Kansas to Oregon alive and well.
Usually, it didn’t work out. The route was rough and dangerous. Along the trail the virtual family got ill, the wagon petered out, the food stolen. Everything and anything happened. The game would flash a screen and you’d just continue on.
You broke a wagon wheel.
Mary broke a bone.
Mary has typhoid.
Mary has died.
For me, the signs along the way and the events that occurred created a live version of that game from the moment I left the house. All I needed was the bad music.
Leah has been bitten.
Leah gave birth.
Leah has died.
Sanctuary Trail.
Next stop, Carver Town. Did you want to look around?
No. Hell no.
Carver Town may have been Vee free at one time, but I didn’t need to walk in to know it no longer was a safe zone.
My plan was to pull over and hide the car a mile or so before Carver. I would have done so had I not seen that lone Vee walking the road. Something told me he wasn’t turned away at the gate by some guy saying, “Hey now, we’re a Vee free zone, just turn it around, buddy.”
Hordes of dead roamed in front of the ‘We are Vee Free’ sign, as if gloating that they were victorious.
Even though I didn’t need to stop, I did however, have no choice but to drive through it. I was glad I did.
The main road in town was like navigating a video game. Vee bombarded the car, pounding relentlessly. Twice I swore I heard someone yelling out for help. It wasn’t safe and I couldn’t stop. However, I did see another piece of my proverbial Oregon Trail.
Safe Route to Sanctuary 14, 15, 16 use Highway 119.
I didn’t know how old that sign was or how much credence I should put into it, but it was worth a shot to try. It was either Highway 119 or the main interstate. Since doing my calculations and finding I would need at least one more full tank to get there, I figured I stood a better chance of refueling on the safe route.
10
CLEANLINESS
Highway 119 was a wide stretch of secondary artery that ran south in West Virginia. It was darted with small towns, occasional houses, and businesses along the route.
A truck actually passed me on that road not long after I hit it.
I was not alone.
I wasn’t the only one headed to a sanctuary city.
I picked up the pace to try to catch the black Ford, but they were flying. Fearing that I’d lose control of the vehicle with my son in the car, I slowed down. Eventually, I figured I’d catch him.
Plus, speeding wasted gas and I didn’t have it to spare.
Truth was if I didn’t find gas within the next hour or two, I was not making it much further.
Then about forty miles in, I saw the black truck again. It was pulling out of a gas station on the other side of the highway.
It cut across the lanes and continued south.
Did he or she not even see me? They seemed to be in that every man for himself mode. Then again, weren’t we all?
I wondered if the station had power, how he got gas, if he even did. There was one way to find out and I veered across the highway to that service station.
No sooner did I enter the lot than an older woman carrying a rifle walked out. For some reason I worried that she would shoot Leah. That was stupid and silly, but my gut jumped in nervousness and I was glad my rear windows were tinted.
Edward was quiet. I removed the carrier from my body, laid him on the passenger’s seat, then opened my door and raised my hands.
“I don’t mean any harm,” I said. “I just need gas.”
She was a stout woman in her sixties; she held the rifle steady and with confidence. “Where are you headed?”
“Sanctuary City…” I paused. “Sixteen.”
“Sixteen? I haven’t seen anyone headed there in a while. You from Boston?”
“Philly.”
She nodded. “You can put your hands down.”
I did.
“You’re half way there, you know.”
“I know. And I really think one full tank will get me there.”
“I can’t fill you up. I can’t. Only reason I am here is to help people who want to go to a sanctuary city. I got to make what I have last. I can trade you some fuel. What do you got?”
“I have food and water…”
She shook her head. “I have that. Right now going price is medicine or weapons. The medicine has got to be worth it.”
“I have ibuprofen.” I shifted my eyes to my car. “I have… I have a shotgun. But I don’t have any ammunition.”
“You’re riding around with a weapon you can’t fire?”
“I think there’s one more round in there. Not sure.”
“Let me see.”
I walked around to the passenger side and opened the door. When I grabbed the shotgun, Edward squalled.
“What is that?”
“My son. He’s a newborn. My wife died giving birth.” I handed her the shotgun.
“You’re toting a newborn?” she asked.
“I have to. I have to get him to sanctuary.”
She examined the shotgun. “Alright. This will do.” She turned and walked back inside. When she returned she had a five-gallon container and she set it down by my legs. “About seventy miles south there’s a church. Ravenswood. They let people rest there. Another twenty is Berchum Mills, he has property that he’ll trade a safe night’s rest for food and water. Lots of places in between.”
“Thank you,” I said. “Are you headed to a sanctuary city?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I’m gonna take my chances out here.”
I lifted the gas can. “Thank you again.”
“Listen, try to make it as far as you can. It’s not safe out there. It really isn’t. There’s more and more of those things daily.”
“I know.”
“Just be careful. Godspeed to you.”
I began to carry the gas can and stopped. “Do you… do you know anything else?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I haven’t heard the news in weeks.”
“You probably know about as much as me,” she said. “There hasn’t been any news. I only hear what people tell me. Big cities are overrun. Not so much out this way. Used to be the infection wasn’t anywhere near here. Now… the Vee free zones get smaller by the day.”
“Why do you think that is? A wave hits?”
“It’s been a while since one of those came. This thing is everywhere now, no more need for nature to spread it. To answer your question, we were Vee free until people came through infected and turned. That’s the way it is everywhere I suppose.”