We were moving forward on our journey, but I really believed that Madison was going to have a hard time moving passed what had happened. How could she not? A part of her, both physically and emotionally was crushed on the side of the road the night before.
Notebook – Day Twenty-THREE
It was a hard day, and before that an even harder night.
All we can do is move forward.
Some things are better left unsaid.
TWENTY-THREE – Burned out
Sometime during the night, Sergeant Bill Stone passed away. It was unexpected as we had believed he was holding his own. He didn’t talk much, but he responded when spoken to. We should have known. Despite Callie giving him antibiotics, with the ash and wherever that knife was, his wound was bound to be infected. Plus he suffered a head injury. Stone did tell us he had a headache and his stab wound felt as if it were burning. After finding the locket we only drove for a few hours and pulled over in an abandoned convenience store parking lot to set up camp.
He drank some water, didn’t eat, and said he just needed to rest.
I didn’t think twice about it. None of us did.
With so many people dead, he didn’t need to leave us so senselessly. I was really sad and I felt horrible on so many levels. I didn’t check on him, offer him more water or see if he needed anything. None of that. I truly did not think his life hung in the balance.
Poor Stone died alone in that small tent while Callie slept in the truck and I tried to distract Madison by taking her in the store and gathering what we could.
We went about our business feeling as if we just should let Stone rest.
No one deserves to die alone
He did.
Callie said when she went to wake him his body was already hard, cold and had started to darken. He had been gone for a couple hours.
There was no way with the ground covered and hard that we could bury him. Even if we found a spot, it wasn’t right. We were two days from the Kansas camp. He was a soldier, he served his country, we’d take him there and hopefully he would get a decent burial. One he deserved. The temperature was low enough. We wrapped Stone in a covering and lay him in the back of the Humvee.
I asked Callie to tell me about him, more than I had picked up in small conversation. I wanted to add more about Stone in my notebook.
She didn’t give up much. He was recently divorced, no kids, was one of six children and grew up on a farm in Nebraska.
I didn’t expect too much from her. Callie was beside herself. She tried to put on this tough act, but I could tell she was heartbroken. They had known each other a long time. This was evident when she complained she wasn’t feeling well and asked if I could drive.
I was the only one of us three not injured. I gladly took over that job, while she was co pilot, directing and instructing me as I drove through the increasingly ash filled wasteland.
About an hour before the sky would start to darken, Callie with the map in her hand, said, “The exit for Stone Horse Ridge is about six miles up. We should stop there for the night. I know it’s early, but I’m tired.”
“I understand,” I said.
“We’ll still make our Kansas stop day after tomorrow.”
“That’s fine.” I focused on driving because about twenty miles earlier things started to look different. The feel of the road was rougher as if we drove over rocks, and the ash was darker. The farther we drove, the more everything looked dead. South, at least some of the trees kept their green. Where we were, they were dying, there were no leaves and the temperature dropped drastically.
“What’s that smell?” Madison said from the back.
“It couldn’t be Stone, could it?” I asked.
“No. I know dead bodies. That’s not it.”
She wound down the window and I felt the cold air smack against the back of my neck.
“Smell it?” she asked.
It was a distinctive smell. It was reminiscent of that smell that emitted from a hot oven when grease or food had dripped from the pan to the bottom. That smell that flowed out and filled the house while you preheated the stove.
That was the smell.
Burning, old, odd.
“Do you smell it?” Madison asked again.
“Yes, I smell it,” I said.
“Please wind up the window,” Callie requested.
Madison did.
The smell lessened, but it remained with the chill in the vehicle.
All I could think of was something burned or smoldered, something big.
We continued driving the rest of the short distance, with each mile, the smell grew stronger even with the windows up.
After exiting, I saw the sign pointing right indicating Stone Horse Ridge was one mile down the road. I could see it in the distance, but I could also see that stopping there wasn’t the best option.
It was apparent that some sort of unsuccessful exodus had taken place. Something caused traffic to come to a screeching halt. No one got out and though cast in some sort of haze, I could see the automobile filled road that blocked us from going any farther.
Like I had seen for miles prior, about six inches of dark ash covered the road. The left side of the road was lined with dead brush and oddly to the right, in the distance, a single story house looked unscathed.
I stopped the Humvee about a hundred feet before the sea of cars. “What now?” I asked. “Back up and go on the highway?”
“No.” Callie shook her head. “We can camp here. Lot of dust in the air, we need masks.” She peered to the windshield. “We have about an hour left. We should head into town and see if anyone is there.” She grabbed facemasks and tossed them to us.
“Really?” Madison asked. “I’m thinking we don’t want to see what’s in that town.”
“Yeah, well, I’m thinking it’s my job to… see what’s in that town,” Callie said to her then looked at me. “You coming?”
“Yeah.” I told her.
“Madison,” Callie looked back as she reached for her weapon. “You can stay if you…”
“No. I’ll go.”
Just before she got out, Callie handed me a pistol. “Just in case.”
I nodded and took it.
“Masks,” Callie instructed,
I lifted mine over my nose and mouth. The moment my foot hit the ground I knew things were different. I didn’t sink into a soft velvety powder, my boots crunched in the ash. It was more like rock. In fact there were a lot of rocks, then again, we were headed into a desert town.
The first four cars in the exodus were parked sideways almost as if they skidded to a stop.
The ‘blip-blip’ sound caused me to turn around, Callie had locked the doors to the Humvee and shouldered not only a weapon, but her bag.
“Someone’s there,” Madison said softy. “Ahead. In the cars.”
The vehicles were still a good hundred feet away and though shrouded by the ash fog, I too saw the figure standing at the front of the line of cars.
With each step I took, I saw more people standing there.
What were they waiting for? Were they watching us?
Like driving through the fog, the closer were got, the clearer things were.
Dozens of people were by their cars.
“Are they waiting for something?” Madison asked. “They’re looking up.”
Callie stopped walking. “Something’s wrong. They aren’t moving.”
Twenty feet from the cars everything came into focus.
Car doors were open and the people… they weren’t standing as much as leaning. Propped against the cars like unbalanced statues.
They were dead. They died where they stood… frozen instantly in time.