Disappearance (10 page)

Florida is about a fifteen-hour drive, but is due South and the weather is perfect year-round. Alabama also has nice weather, and to get to it from Ohio you only have to take one highway for about ninety percent of the trip. With no GPS, that's a strong selling point.

Then there's LA. It's very far from Ohio, Two or three days of driving, but it has the best weather I've ever experienced -- seventies and sunny every day.

I can't go wrong with any location, and each place is just a final destination point in case the entire planet has disappeared. The thought makes me laugh; there's no way that could be true. I won't be far into my drive before I run into someone who can explain what's going on. At the very least, I can ask for a phone so I can call Abby to make sure she's all right.

Oh Abby, how I miss her. I wonder where she is and worry if she's found somewhere safe to be. I know she's probably scared to death and I ask God, if he does exist, to keep Abby safe.

I decide to sleep on my decision. When I wake up, I'm sure my subconscious will have analyzed all the options and have a final decision ready for me.

In the meantime, I pick up my book, which is about time travel, and begin reading again until the sun goes down. Time travel seems to be an interesting topic to read right now. What I wouldn't give to travel through time in this very moment. I'd rather be in any other point in my life than this.

I could continue reading with the flashlight, but instead I think about how strange these past couple of days have been. How strange it was to see that black car and the cat.

I have a good feeling tomorrow will be the end of all this craziness. I'll make my journey into the unknown and find a town filled with people who know what's going on.

Tomorrow all my anxiety will end - I hope.

Chapter 10

When I wake up I see the rising sun, which means I must have slept well. During this time of year I'm usually up a couple hours before sunrise.

During the night, my subconscious must have been hard at work, because I remember images of Florida, Alabama, North Carolina, and California on my mind.

Just as I'd hoped, I now know where I'm going to go. I wish I could say that I have total confidence in my decision, but I don't. I keep telling myself it doesn't matter because, wherever I go, I'll only get halfway before I start seeing people.

I laugh when I think about my decision to go to Mobile, Alabama. Seriously, of all the places I could go I decide on Ala-freakin'-bama. The decision makes sense for me, though, because it's warm and incredibly easy to get to. The drive there stays on one highway almost the entire way, so I can't get lost. It will also be easy to take an exit and explore towns whenever I see fit.

I've made the drive before with Abby for a Caribbean cruise that we both enjoyed. I loved that it was cheap, and she liked meeting new people. If we ever won the lottery, I think we would just take cruises every week. They're about as cheap as living in a house and the food is amazing.

Going to Mobile allows me to get over eight hundred miles away from home as fast as possible. If I can't find someone after driving that far, then I'll know something is
really
messed up.

I eat breakfast and think about anything else I might need on the trip. One thing I'd absolutely love to do is take a shower. I feel disgusting and am starting to smell. Not only does the smell bother me, but I also just don't feel well. Deodorant only helps so much.

If I happen to make it all the way to Alabama today, the first thing I'm going to do is find water to take a bath, even if it means going in the ocean. I grab a few bars of soap, shampoo, and all of the other toiletries I'll need.

I've been brushing my teeth on a regular basis using some bottled water in the sink. I'm still surprised every time I use the toilet and it works. I keep waiting for a huge explosion to happen when I push down on the flusher but it never does. If I get to the point where I have to do my business outside, I don't think I'll mind. As long as I have toilet paper, I can squat down.

My time travel book makes me wish I could go back a few thousand years to see how people survived without all of life's current necessities. I wouldn't mind going a few thousand years into the future too, just to see what that's like, but that's a whole other topic I won't get into.

I load the car up with last-minute items I've thought of and consider taking my golf clubs with me. If I'm going to be in warm weather I might as well enjoy it. I settle for a pair of swimming trunks instead, which should more than keep me occupied when I get there.

When all is said and done my car is packed with stuff. The trunk, backseat, and now front passenger seat don't have one inch of space left. I couldn't fit my golf clubs even if I wanted to. I can't think of anything essential I'm forgetting, and anxiety starts to build inside me. The fear of the unknown is a scary thing.

I back the car out of the garage and take one last look at my house. I smile when I think of all the great memories in here. As I drive off, I wonder when I'll make it back here.

Making my way through this empty town is starting to feel normal. It still has that polished look to it like everything is as it should be, but I know inside the shop doors is nothing but emptiness.

When I looked at the map earlier, I wrote down some directions I think will get me there in the most optimal way possible. I tried the GPS, hoping it would work, but there's no signal. Maybe my luck will change when I get a couple hundred miles out.

A rush of excitement builds in me when I reach the highway. I can almost imagine the cars passing by. Do I honk at the first one I see and try to get them to pull over? I laugh at how crazy I'd think someone was if they did that to me. Imagine someone driving up next to you honking and signaling for you to get off the road. I'd be reaching for my phone to call the police.

If I do see cars soon, I decide it would be best if I pulled into a rest stop to strike up a conversation there. It would be a strange conversation, no doubt. I'd have to work this into the conversation...
"Yeah, everyone has disappeared within forty-five miles of my house and I'm trying to find any form of civilization."

My route takes me west for a few hours to reach I-65. I've gone this direction many times before, when Abby and I go to Cincinnati a few times a year to get away.

As always, I get the feeling I'm forgetting something. It takes a while, but I remember what it is when I reach down to itch my leg – bandages and Neosporin.

I've swapped out bandages a handful of times since my little meltdown with Abby's office door. Of course, I can more than survive today without a bandage, since I'll be in the car and it won't get infected. With no doctors around, I need to be extra careful.

Something else I wish I had brought is my CD collection. With no radio, things are pretty quiet and boring. Abby has a few CDs stashed around her car but they are dreadful. I'd rather sit in silence than hear sappy love songs.

I'm not a big music person, but like everyone else my age I have thousands of songs on my phone. It doesn't matter how old I get, I always listen to the songs that were playing when I was in high school and college. My parents do the same thing, always listening to music from the '60s and '70s. I guess we all like to re-live the days when we were young and rebellious.

I'm about an hour outside of Cincinnati when I see a long bit of construction. I don't know about other parts of the country, but driving on Ohio's highways is a never-ending battle with construction areas. By the time a road is finally built, they tear it down and start re-building it again.

My wife and I haven't been this way in several months, and large concrete blocks are set up for what seems like miles on the left side of the road.

I'm in this construction zone for about five minutes before I see it, a car headed towards me on the other side of the highway. The concrete blocks leave no way for me to get over unless I find a gap up ahead. I slam my foot on the pedal hoping to find such an opportunity. I begin honking my horn too, just in case they aren't paying attention. It's hard to see over there because of the concrete blocks, but just as we are getting ready to pass each other I see it's another black car. It looks similar to the car I saw yesterday, maybe not quite the same but similar.

I try to get a look at the driver but we go by so quickly I'm not able to see them. Without being able to get over, my only chance of heading in that direction is if there's an exit ramp. There hasn't been one in a while, so I think one should be close.

Even though I've been on this road several times, I have no memory of where the exits are. I speed up even faster hoping to find any opportunity to turn around, but it never comes.

After fifteen miles, I finally approach the exit ramp I desperately wanted, but decide it's no longer worth it to go back. They are long gone by now. I remain optimistic I'll see another car up ahead though.

It turns out my optimism was wrong. I never see another car in the more than seventy miles left to Cincinnati. This large city, which usually has thousands of cars on the highway and thousands more driving through the streets, is completely deserted. I guess I should start expecting this, but it still has me in disbelief.

I've seen my tiny little hometown deserted, and I've seen Chesterfield, a large city in itself, wiped out. Cincinnati, though, is one of the top five largest cities in Ohio, and probably up there on the US city population list as well. Yet, everywhere I look I don't see a single human being. This kicks things up to a whole new level of weird.

I look at my gas gauge and see I still have more than half a tank left. Of course, I don't really need to worry about running out of gas, because I have four gas jugs sitting in the trunk of my car. I can pull over at any moment and refuel.

I consider driving through the downtown area, but I can see enough of what I need from the highway. There's nobody here; everyone has packed up and gone. Wherever they went, I hope I'm headed in the same direction. Are they going to Mobile, Alabama too?

After driving a while longer, I reach the bridge that takes you over the Ohio River and into Kentucky. I admit I'm worried that I'll somehow burst into flames the moment I leave Ohio. With the way these past couple days have gone, nothing would surprise me.

Is it just Ohio that's missing everyone? I can't think of a reason why an entire state would need to be evacuated. If that was indeed the case then why was I left out? No, it couldn't be that.

When I drive over the state line into Kentucky, I don't burst into flames. I'll have to save death via spontaneous combustion for another day. I think about the last time I left the state and realize it's been far too long. Abby and I enjoy traveling, but we haven't been out of the state since our trip to Italy almost a year ago. Seeing state borders brings back a flood of good memories. The only time I've been out of Ohio is for vacations or doing something else fun.

After driving a while longer I realize I'm starting to get hungry. Since there are no fast food options today I pull over to the side of the highway. In the backseat I have everything to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, as well as crackers and a bottle of water. You've never lived until you've eaten lunch by yourself in a car parked on the side of the highway.

When I'm done, I get out to stretch my legs. I take my fully loaded pellet gun and step out of the car. It's sunny and cool, and I look forward to the hot and humid weather I'm expecting in Mobile.

To keep myself entertained I take some practice shots at a nearby stop sign. I seem to have a natural gift with this thing. I look around for birds or any other moving objects but don't see anything. I could go exploring in the woods, but I don't think I'm ready for that much adventure. The last thing I need is a run-in with a bear when I only have a pellet gun for defense and zero tree-climbing skills.

Instead, I shoot the sign a few more times and, once I've had my fun, head back to the car and drive off. I think about anything I can do to make this trip a little more enjoyable. After all, I can do whatever I want to anything I want. If I had the desire to break into a bank and take wads of cash, I could. If I wanted to stop at a liquor store and start drinking and driving, I could do that too with no fear of getting pulled over.

Thinking about it, alcohol would make this trip more enjoyable. I'm not a big drinker but from my experience alcohol makes everything more fun.

Other options I have for the anarchist in me are burning down buildings and stealing sports cars. These are things I would never do in a million years under normal circumstances, but with nobody here, why not? Could be fun.

I decide I'm going to have some adventure in the next town I find. All of my crimes up to this point have been out of necessity; it's about time I make the most of my unique situation.

Sure enough, almost as if by fate, I see a "Cracker Barrel 2 Miles Ahead" sign. Cracker Barrel is a little restaurant that was a requirement for all of my family trips. I have no plans of going there today though; it's only an indicator of a town ahead.

I start getting excited like a little kid who sees the entrance sign to Disney for the first time. Moments pass and I take the exit ramp to a town with infinite possibilities. The Cracker Barrel is just off the road. This restaurant chain, like McDonald's, always seems to have the best locations right off the highway.

I look across the street and, next to the exit ramp back onto the highway, there is a gas station with a carry out. My eyes light up. This store looks very inviting for my destructive purposes.

I don't even bother going up to the next traffic light to make a U-turn. I drive right through the grass and a flowerbed that this quaint little town has so happily provided to welcome its guests.

I look in my rearview mirror but can't see what kind of damage I caused because of my dented trunk. I pull into the gas station and park the car right next to the mini-mart's front door. I reach for the ax, but decide the pellet gun might be more fun.