“You okay?” Christie said to him.
They hadn’t talked much since the rest stop. As if letting time go by would somehow make what happened less real.
“Yeah. Fine.”
“I can drive.”
Jack laughed. “I know you can.”
“Don’t know why you always need to drive.”
Yeah. Why was that? he thought. The need to feel in control?
A cop thing? Something he inherited from his rigid-as-steel father. Someone who didn’t believe women should do—or could do—much of anything but cook and clean and raise the kids.
“If I get tired, I’ll let you know. I’m good now.”
“And your leg. Long time to sit.”
“That’s fine, too.”
That was a lie. Sitting in the driver’s seat, in the same position, had produced a growing ache near his wound. He guessed that when he got out of the car, his limp would be back, at least until he loosened the muscles and wrapped up the area again tight with an Ace bandage.
The leg was better. Not perfect, though, and never would be.
Christie reached out and gave his other leg a squeeze, midthigh. Gentle, teasing.
“Good. Just remember, I’m here if you want a break.”
“Gotcha, boss.”
They drove on.
They passed a sign.
WELCOME TO ADIRONDACK STATE PARK.
Suddenly, the signs turned a rustic brown, themed to show that this region—the shops and towns and homes—was all part of protected land, the great state park.
About as close to wilderness as one could see anywhere near New York City.
But even in this wilderness, Jack saw signs of what had happened. Most of the majestic pines on the side of the road looked untouched, but whole patches of deciduous trees stood leafless, long dead. Almost as if some heatless, smokeless fire had snuffed them out.
Outside, it turned cool enough that he had turned off the AC. Windows open. The sweet smell of pine. The air pungent and cool.
Would the other trees ever come back?
Would whatever killed trees and plants across the country, and led to a blight that decimated the cattle, dairy, and poultry industries worldwide, ever end?
Some trees lived. Some died. Same thing with food crops and livestock.
The world scurried to adjust.
But not fast enough. Certainly not fast enough for the Can Heads, who had their own solution to the problem.
Christie turned to him.
“Smells so good.”
She didn’t point out the obvious: the disturbing leafless trees looking so eerie.
The kids had their faces at the windows. They certainly didn’t see this many trees back at their Staten Island development. And they could even see mountains, still in the distance, but already looking like an amazing backdrop from a film.
“Dad—all those trees. What happened?” Kate asked.
Jack shrugged. “Not sure, honey.”
He was tempted to add something, like Maybe not enough water. Or the obvious lie, a fire.
But Kate was smart.
Instead: “Something hurt them and not the others. I guess scientists are working on it, right?”
“Yeah, they sure are.”
And on all the other things that have happened to the planet.
“They look scary.”
Another nod. “Yeah. But look at those pines ahead. Big, hm? And the mountains.”
“The mountains are cool!” Simon said, leaning forward to get a better look at the peaks ahead. “Are we going up there?”
Christie turned around. “We go up a little ways. Paterville is on a hill surrounded by mountains.”
“Wow. Wish we could go to the top of one.”
“Maybe we could drive up,” Jack said, unaware if he could even make good on that offer.
Everyone grew quiet, looking at the mountains, distracted from the great stands of dead trees that alternated with the still-towering pines.
Christie kept looking at the mountains.
Except for bare patches, they looked ancient, untouched by time. For the first time since they left home, she felt that they were indeed “away.”
That was the whole point, wasn’t it? To get the kids away, Jack away… her. To leave what had become their daily life with its fears, its walls—what for her felt like a belt, tightening more every day.
Looking at the mountains, she felt something that she recognized was different. Freedom, hope, the idea of possibilities.
Then Kate’s voice snapped her out of her mental wandering among the peaks that, though obviously closer, still were so far away.
“Hey, is this near the camp? Looks weird here.”
“You never saw real mountains before,” Christie said.
“Hey—” Jack said.
Christie faced forward.
“There we go. Our exit, three miles ahead.”
Exit, Christie thought. Getting off the Northway.
Onto the smaller roads. The smaller towns.
“Good,” she said.
Not at all sure she meant it.
Jack slowed, hitting a series of severe speed bumps that signaled the way to the exit checkpoint.
Always checkpoints.
Christie read the bold signs, the letters big.
Then, after another speed bump that had the kids laughing from the carnival ride effect, another sign:
Road conditions. As if there was snow, branches down, flooding. The conditions the sign referred to had nothing to down with weather.
Another bump.
Christie scanned the booth ahead. A real metal barrier instead of a simple wooden bar to block cars. Guess the locals might be concerned about New York City riffraff sneaking into their pure, clean mountains. One guard in a booth and another standing to the side with a gun on his shoulder, his eyes locked on the car, scanning it.
Jack pulled up to the booth, opened the window, and looked up at the guard.
A nod and a smile, but the middle-aged man didn’t smile back. Could be he was a veteran. There were stories that the Highway Authority had been hiring vets. It took the pressure off the suddenly unemployed combat soldiers in a changed world.
More important, they could keep their cool and knew their way around automatic weapons.
This one didn’t look too happy.
Uniform unkempt. A stray stain here and there. Needed a shave. Squinting, narrow eyes in the late afternoon, but open enough so Jack could see they were bloodshot.
“Papers.” The guard said it as if measuring out exactly how many words he could use.
Christie passed the papers from the glove compartment.
Jack handed them over.
“Paterville,” the guard said. Jack caught the guard looking over to his partner.
“Yeah,” Jack said.
This time, Jack didn’t engage in any of the small talk. None of the I hear it’s nice… or never been there.
The guard looked over the papers.
Then:
“Got to check your vehicle. Mind stepping out?”
Stepping out? Jack had read nothing about that. He looked at the guard again—the messy uniform, the grizzled face. Had he read the guy right? Someone who didn’t care?
Then the guard added: “Just gotta check your safety precautions. Before we update you on the rest of your trip.”