The Journal: Raging Tide: (The Journal Book 4) (4 page)

“Marquette is about twenty miles northeast,”
I said. “Let’s break for something to eat. It’s already two o’clock
and I’m getting hungry.”

“Me too,” Jim said. “I was so excited to
finally being on the road again, I skipped breakfast.”

He found an abandoned and locked wayside
rest area and pulled the Hummer to a stop.

“Egg salad or tuna?” I asked, digging around
in the top cooler. I handed out the sandwiches and retrieved two
bottles of water for us. We sat on an old wooden picnic table that
had seen better days and ate the sandwiches I made up this
morning.

US-41 was relatively free of vehicles,
though we did come across a couple of accidents that were off to
the side of the road.

“Jim, look over in that parking lot. Isn’t
that semi-trailer like the one in Moose Creek?”

“It sure is,” he said, cutting across the
four lanes and into the near empty parking lot. Upon further
inspection, we agreed it had once held supplies from Walstroms.

“Colonel Andrews?” a voice said from deep
within the trailer. We both drew our side arms and a young man
emerged.

“Do I know you?” Jim asked.

“Probably not, but I know you,” he replied.
“I was at the sports arena and was one of the evacuees going to
Escanaba. I was driving this truck when we were hijacked.”

“What happened, son?” Jim asked, holstering
his weapon. I kept mine drawn.

“We were in the convoy, buses in the front
leading the way, followed by the medical van, then the food truck
and this supply truck, with the tankers bringing up the rear, just
like you told us to do. The buses and medical truck passed an
intersection a half mile east of here, and then a garbage truck
pulled out of a side street and blocked the road.

“We were surrounded by a group of people,
although a mob is probably more accurate. They pulled the drivers
from the cabs and gave us a choice: join them or get shot. Not much
of a choice. We drove the trucks and tankers into a small town
south of here, Rosemont, where this mob was living. As soon as we
parked where they told us to, they swarmed the trailers like ants,
taking everything.”

“What happened to the buses?” I asked.

“They slowed down at first, then they must
have realized what was going down and they sped up and got out of
here. These folks didn’t want more people anyway, they only wanted
the food and supplies. After the trailers were empty, they had us
drivers move them out of the way.”

“How far is this town… I’m sorry, son,
what’s your name?” Jim said.

“Mickey, sir. The town starts a few blocks
in from 41. It’s mostly rundown trailer parks and a few bars.”

“How many people are there, Mickey? And are
we going to have a problem?” Jim asked, his voice steely.

“There won’t be any problems, Colonel. They
didn’t ration themselves, not at all, and the food was gone in a
month. That’s when they turned on each other. Darn near killed each
other off, too. The few that survived took off into the woods.

“During that month, I hooked up with a nice
gal. She was terrified of the rest of them, even the women were
violent. When the fighting broke out, she and I took off.”

“How have you been managing, Mickey?” I
asked.

“We’ve been doing fine by scavenging. There
are some nice subdivisions along here and a surprising amount of
food left in the pantries. We aren’t struggling, though it is
challenging. Funny thing is, I’ve never felt more alive than I do
now. It’s not the kind of life I imagined having, but I’m not
unhappy.” He smiled broadly.

This startled me and put into perspective
something that had been hovering on the edges of my thoughts. These
past eighteen months had been a challenge, but not really a
struggle for my family since I was prepared. I hadn’t been
challenged lately; maybe that was why this road trip meant so much
to me.

“What happened to the tankers?” Jim
asked.

Mickey frowned. “During the free-for-all
fighting, someone got stupid and set the gas tanker on fire. It
started a chain reaction since they were all parked together and
the explosion is what killed a lot of those people. Dumb
asses.”

Jim extended his hand to Mickey. “I
appreciate the information and wish you well, young man. We need to
get back on the road.”

Down the road a bit, I asked Jim, “Do you
believe him?”

“Yes, I do, about what happened anyway. Do I
trust him? No. I kept getting the creepy feeling of being watched,”
Jim answered. “I think as long as we were out in the open, and not
making any move to take things ourselves, we were okay. At some
point though, we would have been in danger.”

I shivered. “I’m glad to be out of there
too.”

*

The pavement rolled a bit and there were
some major cracks we assumed were the result of the earthquake last
December. Jim easily maneuvered around the worst of it, and those
twenty miles still took us over an hour to travel.

“That wasn’t so bad,” I said as the silent
traffic light in front of Walstroms came into sight. It hung like a
silent reminder of a past era. Jim spotted the entrance to the
Shopmore center and turned, following the broken pavement.

“Damn!” he exclaimed, screeching to a
halt.

In front of us lay Shopmore. The north and
west walls had completely collapsed, leaving the rest of the
structure listing precariously. Jim parked the vehicle as close as
he could without running over blocks of busted concrete and
scattered red bricks. We both got out of the Hummer.

“I’m going to see if there is still a way
inside,” he said.

“Are you kidding? That building could
collapse any minute,” I said, taking a step backward.

Jim smiled wickedly. “Where’s your sense of
adventure, Allex?”

“It’s parked right next to my sense of
claustrophobia!” I shot back.

“Really? I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” he
apologized. “Walk with me, Allex, that’s all.”

We spent the next hour checking the crumpled
building from all angles.

“I can’t seem to find a reasonable way
inside,” Jim said crossing his arms and leaning against the
Hummer.

“Well, that’s a relief,” I said, glaring at
him. “Look, if you were to crawl inside and get crushed, I’d have
to turn around and go home. I don’t want to do that. Don’t get
yourself killed, Colonel Andrews!” I stomped around to the other
side of the vehicle and yanked the door open. I could hear him
snickering behind me.

“It’s almost six o’clock. We should find
someplace safe to spend the night,” Jim said with a touch of sudden
sullenness.

“Mickey’s comment has been hanging in the
back of my mind. There’s a very nice subdivision up behind
Walstroms. Five acre lots, big houses. My guess is those people
were the first to head out of here, so we should have our pick. We
might even find some supplies.”

*

The higher the road went, the worse it got.
There was broken pavement and broken trees. Everywhere I looked, it
was a mess. We drove around the majority of it and stopped only
when we would have needed to cut our way through with the chainsaw.
A large spruce tree lay partly across a paved driveway that wound
up and out of sight.

“This looks as good as any to try,” Jim
said, swerving up the steep incline.

The house was a massive three-story Tudor,
complete with dark stained contrasting board and bat accents on the
cream stucco and brown bricked arches.

“Wow,” I said. “I’ve always wanted to see
inside one of these houses.” I let my thoughts trail out silently
as I took in the majestic home.

Jim walked up to the front door and rang the
bell. I laughed at his gesture. Then he twisted the ornate doorknob
and walked in. I was right behind him.

The foyer was black slate with matching
benches and led into the cathedral ceilinged living room. A massive
fireplace, done in Michigan Fieldstone, graced half of one wall and
complimented the dark ivory walls. For such a large room, it had a
cozy feeling to it.

“Weapons drawn, Allex. Let’s check and clear
the rooms on the main floor first.”

Jim was all business and I knew he was right
to be so cautious. One by one we checked the various rooms to find
nothing except a layer of dust and soot and eerie quiet.

We silently ascended the sweeping staircase,
our footfalls muffled by the thick dark rose carpeting. In the
second bedroom we found her. It was difficult to pin an age on the
body; it was dehydrated, yet still in the early stages of
decomposition, possibly preserved because of the cold winter
temperatures. Her auburn hair fanned out across the pillow and
looked to be a natural color, so I guessed her to be in her late
thirties.

“Looks like she’s been dead several months,”
I said, circling the large bed. “She’s in a nightgown and there’s a
box of tissues next to the pillow. I see a pile of crumpled tissues
on the floor and the shades are drawn. She was sick.” Because of
the dim light I missed the other two smaller figures lying on the
floor near the closet, wrapped in blankets.

“I didn’t look real close, but there doesn’t
appear to be any injuries on the children. Likely it was the same
sickness that took their mother,” Jim said after checking under the
blankets.

We backed out of the room and closed the
heavy door behind us. The rest of the rooms were as empty as the
ones downstairs. The third floor was a large vacant attic.

“Let’s check out the kitchen,” Jim said as
we descended to the main level.

We opened cupboards and pulled out cans and
bottles, setting everything on the long center island. Jim reached
for the refrigerator.

“I wouldn’t do that!” I said. When he gave
me a quizzical look, I continued. “The power has been out since at
least October. The seal on the door has been keeping all rotten
smells trapped inside. Do you really want to let them out?” He
dropped his hand.

“I know there’s a couple of corpses
upstairs, Allex, but this looks like a good, safe place to stay the
night. What do you think? Can you sleep with bodies in the house?”
Jim asked, and then realized what he had said, remembering that’s
exactly what I did when Mark died in December.

“We’re okay, Jim, really.” I turned to the
six burner stove done in black enamel. I turned a knob and could
smell gas. “We can have a hot meal tonight!”

“I’m going to check the garage, make sure I
can park inside and out of sight,” Jim said, opening one of the
doors on the furthest wall of the large kitchen and closed it.
“Basement.” He opened another. “Powder room”. On the third try he
walked into the three car garage, leaving me to continue checking
the kitchen out.

The work island now held an array of smoked
oysters, sardines, gourmet olives, a one pound canned ham, canned
asparagus spears, olive oil, pricey vinegars, different sauces, and
fruit cocktail. I opened a lower door, and to my delight I found a
full twelve bottle wine rack, all bottles resting easy on their
sides. I pulled one out, a Napa Valley red blend.

I heard the garage door lift and went to see
what Jim was doing.

“You might not want to come in here, Allex!”
Jim warned me too late. The first thing I saw was the body hanging
from its neck, the rope tied to one of the beams. I stopped in my
tracks.

Jim came over to me and looked up at the
rafters. “I would venture to say the father couldn’t deal with it.”
He paused for the longest time. “This is a big garage. I’d rather
have the Humvee in this slot, closest to the house, so I’m going to
move the body.” Jim turned me by the shoulders. “Are you okay with
this?”

I nodded. “I’ve seen my share of bodies,
Jim, including those of children. It never gets easier. If we do
this together, it will get done that much faster.”

I got a sheet from the closet and we went
back for the father. Wrapped in the sheet, it was easy for us to
each take an end, and make the long walk up the stairs again. The
four family members now rested eternally together, the children on
the bed between their parents.

*

The interior doors that connected the three
garages opened easily on well-oiled hinges. In the furthest port
was a deep blue Mercedes. In the center port was a soft pink
Cadillac: his and her status symbols.

By the time Jim backed the Hummer into the
garage and retrieved our duffels, I had the wine opened and two
ornate crystal glasses filled. We drank the first bottle in
silence, sitting on the floor in front of a roaring fire, munching
on smoked oysters and stale crackers.

“We probably shouldn’t have built a fire.
It’s a breach of security and might alert someone to our presence,”
Jim said. “However, what’s done is done, and I’m rather enjoying
it.”

I drenched the heated asparagus in the jar
of warmed Béarnaise sauce, fried slices of canned ham in olive oil,
and dribbled the garlic flavored balsamic vinegar on the lettuce
and tomatoes I had picked from my greenhouse before we left. I set
two plates on the coffee table we had moved in front of the fire.
Dinner was served.

“So much for roughing it,” Jim chuckled as
he poured another glass of wine.

“I doubt we will have many more meals like
this, Jim. Enjoy it while you can,” I raised my glass in a mock
toast, and speared a salty, onion stuffed olive.

*

“I’d rather not sleep on the floor when
there are beds available, and I’m also uncomfortable about
separating,” Jim confessed. Did I detect some embarrassment?

“Why don’t we drag two mattresses in here
and sleep by the fire?” I suggested. “We don’t even need our bags,
not with all the blankets available.”