The light was already beginning to fade by the time Nate reached a gas station on Blackhawk Drive. In spite of being in pretty good shape, his progress had still been rather pitiful. The snow was just too deep to maintain any kind of reasonable rhythm. Most Americans living above the fortieth parallel knew something about how harsh winters could be. But even they took for granted the thankless army of folks who often worked through the night to clear our streets and sidewalks after a big storm. Those brave or stupid enough to drive into this mess—a group he counted himself a part of—had by brute force removed some of the snow. Although in reality, it had been less snow removal and more snow displacement.
Already wiped from wrestling the sidewalk, his left knee throbbing something awful, Nate had quickly learned to stick to the road. The traffic he had passed earlier on his way to the middle school was now gone. In its place was the occasional car off on the side of the road, half buried and disappearing more and more with every passing minute. The vast majority weren’t wrecks. They hadn’t crashed. Their wheels simply had not been able to gain enough traction to move forward. In the pre-lights out world, driving a car in winter was perfectly all right. Throw the proper tires on and you could manage just fine. However, the rules were different now. The harsh conditions favored larger vehicles with four-wheel drive, though even that was no guarantee of success.
Slowly, deliberately, Nate weaved his way past one abandoned car after another. In spite of the cold, he could feel the sweat running down his back. His body had been running on adrenaline these last few hours. And as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was starting to come to terms with the fact that at some point he would need to stop and rest. Otherwise, he risked falling face first into the nearest snowbank and dying of hypothermia.
Eventually, he came to a Toyota Corolla, its rear lights glowing dimly beneath a layer of freshly laid snow. A thin trail of exhaust issued from the tailpipe for a moment before cutting off, along with the lights. Someone was still inside the car. Nate went to the driver’s side window and cleared away the caked-on icy film gathering there. A woman’s face stared back at him. She looked terrified, less by her situation and more by his sudden appearance.
“I won’t hurt you,” he assured her. “But you’ve got to leave town.”
She shook her head, the ends of her blonde hair waving beneath her beanie. She looked somewhere in her late thirties with fairly pleasant features only slightly weathered by time and the normal ravages of life. “My boyfriend is coming to get me,” she told him, her voice sounding muffled from behind her car window. “He’s got a big ol’ truck and will pull me out.”
“How long have you been waiting?”
“Uh, a couple hours maybe. Piece of junk won’t budge. I’ve been spinning the tires every few minutes but I ain’t going nowhere.”
Nate contemplated moving on, but how could he? Besides, the light was fading fast. “You spoke to him then?”
The woman shook her head. “Not exactly. I sent him a text.” Her window was fogging up and she used her gloved hand to wipe a frisbee-sized hole.
Her answer filled Nate with a sinking feeling. “Your boyfriend might be looking for you, but I can almost guarantee he never got your text.”
Her eyes narrowed, as though she suspected Nate was trying to pull a fast one. “Really? How can you be so sure?”
Nate’s legs were cramping up from standing still. “You mind if I grab a seat for a minute? Rest up before I carry on?”
Her gaze shifted to the passenger seat next to her and then back to Nate. “I’m not sure. I don’t know you.”
“I’ve lived in Byron for near on fifteen years,” he said, hoping that might change her mind.
The woman shook her head. “Sorry.”
“All right,” Nate said. “If he doesn’t come soon, I suggest you get to Rockford any way you can. This whole town is being irradiated.” And with that he turned back to the road. He hadn’t made it more than a half-dozen paces before she honked her horn.
When he turned back, her door was open and she was half out of the car.
“Okay, just for a minute, but don’t try anything stupid. I have a gun.”
“Good,” Nate said out loud. Then to himself:
With everything that’s happened, you’re gonna need one.
Nate settled his things in the narrow confines of the Corolla, removed his right glove and introduced himself.
“Jessie,” she said, returning the gesture. “I’m not saying you’re a psycho or anything, but you just can’t be too careful. Know what I mean?”
Nate nodded, empty bottles clanking at his feet. “I can’t blame you. Anyone with a depraved mind will see the lights go out and think he’s in Disneyland.”
“I noticed a micro-shift in your face when I introduced myself,” she said. “Do we know each other?”
“A micro-what?”
She laughed. “It’s hard to explain,” she said, still grinning. The skin on her cheeks was pockmarked. “I tend to notice subtle things. Have since I was a little girl. Someone at work changes their hair and I’m the first to make note of it.”
“I see. No, it’s just that you look a bit like someone I knew.”
Her features tensed. “Knew? Did something happen to her?”
“You could say that. It was a long time ago.”
“Did she die?”
“No, one day she simply stepped off the face of the Earth,” Nate said, appreciating the warmth, but wishing for a change of subject.
Jessie must have noticed another micro-shift in Nate’s face or whatever she called it, because she changed the subject. “What are you doing out there all alone, Nate?”
“Heading to Rockford,” he told her. “To my family.”
“You didn’t travel together?”
“It’s kind of a long story.” Nate reached into his bag and produced two power bars. He offered her one and she took it.
“Cheers.”
“The least I could do to repay your hospitality.” He took a bite and began the arduous task of chewing. That was the thing about power bars. They were loaded with protein and nutrients, but they could also give you lockjaw. He saw he wasn’t the only one having a tough time.
“Got anything to drink in that magic bag of yours?” she asked.
Nate laughed. “It’s far less magic than I would like it to be, but I sure do.” He plucked out a bottle of water and handed it to her.
She smiled politely. “I was thinking about something a little harder.”
Nate’s gaze dropped to his boots and he suddenly realized the clanking sound he’d heard earlier was empty vodka bottles. “Nah, sadly nothing like that.”
“Too bad. I don’t have a drinking problem or anything, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
Nate glanced over and saw her eyes were sharp and alert. She didn’t look drunk, but that didn’t mean she was happy about being sober. “Your life is none of my business, Jessie. You wanna drink, that’s up to you.”
“People get judgy, is all. That’s why I worry sometimes.”
“I can see why. But we both have larger things to worry about other than bad habits we can’t seem to kick.”
She seemed to agree with that.
“Listen,” he said, closing his go-bag. “What will you do if your boyfriend doesn’t show?”
“Oh, he’ll show. Doogie can be a prick sometimes, but when push comes to shove he’s always been there for me.” She paused and studied him. “You a cop or something?”
Nate laughed. “I have that look, don’t I?”
“Yeah, a bit,” she said, sheepishly. “Well, maybe more than a bit. I’m right, aren’t I?”
“I used to be a cop,” he told her, as he rubbed at his throbbing knee.