Dark Road (22 page)

Marissa gritted her teeth and nodded.

“This isn’t a good place but I don’t want to get closer to the river.” Dan said. “I hate to do it, but let’s backtrack a little bit because there was a good place a little bit back. We’ll set up camp and I’ll ferry water from the stream…”

…

“What can we do without?” Dan asked Marissa after the kids were asleep.

“As in,” she asked in reply.

“I can’t keep pulling that trailer as full as it is.” Dan said. “Not on our diet after what we’ve been through.”

Dan shook his head. “If we were doing this right after the power went out and it was full of food, yeah, I could keep doing it for weeks, but not now. My endurance is down to nothing. We made another three and a half miles today.” Dan looked down at his hands and then looked back up at Marissa. “Six months ago we used to go for walks with the kids—yes, with Daniel in the jogging stroller—and we would walk three or four miles in an hour on the walking trail at the park.”

“But…” Marissa started to say.

Dan interrupted her and continued. “I know it’s different, believe me I know. My point is that we have to trim down what we’re taking,” he said. “The bikes were great, they were a
huge
advantage and they let me pull all that weight and I didn’t even notice it. I put the bike in a lower gear and once I was going there was no difference.” Dan shrugged his shoulders and winced. “Now, believe me, I notice it.”

“Well, what can’t we live without?” Marissa asked.

…

In addition to being sore from the last two days of walking, Dan and Marissa were tired from being up half the night convincing each other that this or that was needed for the rest of the journey. When they departed, they left a small but tidy pile for someone to find of some of the heavier but redundant items from their supplies. Partially used, but not dead, batteries, partially used, but not empty, lighters, four of their eight empty glass jars from food they had traded and such, all covered by the smaller of the two tarps—so as not to get ruined.

“If I never see another hill for as long as I live I will still die a bitter man!” Dan said as they were setting up camp for the night.”

“We made, what, three miles again today?” Marissa said.

“If that,” he said.

“At least the rice is getting lighter.” Marissa said. “That glass is still half full.”

“Please tell me it’s more than half full.” Dan said with more than a little bit of anxiety.

“Actually, it’s not, I was…never mind,” she said.

“Sorry, I’m just,” Dan stopped and shook his head. “I’m about done in. Three days of walking and pulling something on wheels shouldn’t do this to one person. It’s degrading.”

Marissa just stared at him.

“What?” He said.

“Really?” Marissa said. “Like I’m not feeling just as bad for feeling just as worn out for just
walking
beside you? How do you think that makes
me
feel?”

“That’s not what I meant.” Dan said. “And you don’t just walk next to me. Half the time you’re carrying Jessie.”

“No, I’m not. Not since the first day.” Marissa said. “I get to the end of the day and I just want to fall down and not get back up, but I can’t do that. There’s too much to do, even here and now. I’m not complaining, because a lot of the time you’re right there alongside doing it with me, but I’m the one who had to suggest doing
laundry
when we came to the river.”

Dan blushed but didn’t say anything.

“I’m still the mom,” Marissa said, trying not to lose her temper but starting to raise her voice a little. “I still do what dishes need to be done after the meals, I still seem to be the one that does the girls’ hair in the morning—and yes, they still need their hair done in the morning—those are
not
the same braids we left the house with.”

Dan pursed his lips and then said the absolute worst thing he could have said in the situation. “I’m sorry.”

“Damn it, Dan, it’s not your fault!” Marissa said. “You don’t need to apologize, but once in a while I need some help without needing to ask for it or bringing it up. And of course now that I’ve mentioned dishes, and getting the kids up, or doing their hair you’re going to have to come up with something else because if you do those you’re screwed since I already brought them up—which isn’t fair, but I’m a woman so you’ll just have to deal with it.”

At which point Marissa walked off to gather some wood for the fire and Dan was left to try and make sense of an argument that had happened probably a dozen or more times during their marriage on any number of topics. He hadn’t yet, and was still looking for someone who had. It wasn’t that Marissa didn’t have a valid point, and he would figure out something that he could do to pick up some of the slack. He also wasn’t blaming it on anything in particular—but he wondered if this might be a good time to break out the chocolate bar he found as the lone contents of that compressed space bag in the Taylor’s house.

…

“I can’t do it,” Marissa said, “and frankly I don’t know how you’ve managed for the last three days.”

“Don’t feel bad.” Dan said. “I’ll make it as far as however we go today but then we take whatever we can put on our backs. The hills are the worst, if it wasn’t for those I think I’d be ok but they’re doing me in.”

Dan looked around at where they were resting, after one of those hills, in the shade of an unoccupied underpass. “I have to go down backwards, almost on my hands and knees, now to keep from losing the trailer, and we’re resting so long that we either have to go longer to get further, or our distance for the day is just too short.”

“We started earlier this morning so we got further before it got too hot and we’ve been able to rest while we drank and refilled water.” Marissa said. “I don’t know how much it’s helped you. We’ve managed to keep from getting dehydrated, which is good since you left all the IV supplies, but, frankly, I don’t know how useful they would have been. If we were dehydrated you’d have been the worst off and shaking too badly to start an IV.”

“True,” Dan said and nodded his head.

“Today is already our furthest day and if we can make it to Holladay we’ll be over four miles.” Dan said.

“Let’s shoot for that but not kill ourselves in the effort.” Marissa said.

…

As they walked away from the campsite, Jessie stopped and turned around and waved.

“What are you doing, honey?” Dan asked.

“Saying goodbye to the trailer,” she said.

Out of nowhere, Marissa wanted to cry, but she just didn’t have the water reserves. Instead she squatted down and waved goodbye too. “It was a good trailer wasn’t it?” Marissa said.

“Yeah, even though it made my bum hurt,” she said.

Dan was down on one knee now, next to Jessie and Marissa, looking back at the trailer stacked with everything they were leaving behind. “Even after you weren’t sitting on the cans?” he asked.

Jessie quirked her mouth, “Yeah, even after I wasn’t sitting on the cans,” she said.

Everybody laughed a little at that and Bekah joined the line looking back at the trailer and waved goodbye. The sleeping bags were tied into bundles under the backpacks that Dan and Marissa wore. The tarp and the silver were in Dan’s backpack. Dan and Marissa both had a glass jar of rice and their remaining water bottles. They were out of ketchup. Dan was carrying his EMT box in his left hand to keep his pistol hand free. They both had the vitamins, girls’ clothes, two flashlights, matches, and lighters in their backpacks—and that was all, there wasn’t room for anything else.

“Let’s see if we can make any better progress today.” Dan said.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Promised Land – September 7, 2012

Once the morning meeting, to vote on The Constitution, broke up, the day settled back into its normal routine.  Rachael was teaching at the Middle School, and since Josh was in High School, he was free before his sister and mother were. Joel figured it was time to see if they could have a conversation without a confrontation.

 “Dad,” Josh started.

“Joshua. Now that we’re on as close to a first name basis as you’re allowed to be with me, what’s on your mind?” Joel asked.

“Stop it, Dad, please. I’m trying to be serious,” Josh said, turning a bit red but trying not to get angry.

“Ok, I’m sorry, really. I wasn’t trying to be silly, it’s just something we always did at work and old habits die hard. Seriously, what’s on your mind?” Joel asked again, sitting back in the camp chair. “I wouldn’t say you’ve been stewing about something, but whatever it is, something has been on your mind since you tried to bring it up a week ago and we apparently need to talk about it.”

“Yeah, we do,” Josh said. Taking a deep breath and seeming to prepare for the worst, Josh looked up and once again squared his shoulders, preparing to be the unstoppable force to his father’s immovable object. “Dad, I want to join…”

“No, absolutely not…” Joel said without letting his son finish.

“What!?” Josh stood up. “You didn’t even let me finish! You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“The Army…and the answer is still no, and for the record, you didn’t let me finish either.” Joel replied. “We are so alike,” Joel said, half to himself. “Sit down, Josh.”

“No, I don’t think I want to.”

“Sit down before I sit you down, son.” Joel said without leaning forward but with enough steel in his voice to let Josh know he was serious. “Son, two weeks ago you tried to have a conversation with me and it didn’t go well because you were going to talk at me instead of to me. If you recall, that whole proposition was cut short because that’s not how a conversation works.”

Joel took a deep breath while his son continued to turn red. “If you want to have a discussion, fine, we’ll have a discussion, but discussions are casual affairs. They are conducted with both parties sitting down or leaning against something, relaxing…possibly having a drink. You’re too young to drink, and there aren’t any trees to lean against so SIT…DOWN!”

Josh glared at his father for a full three seconds before complying, but sit down he did.

“Now,” Joel said, “Since you are a bit more wound up about this than I am I’ll go first while you get yourself a under control.” Joel crossed his legs and tried his best to appear relaxed although his gut was a seething cauldron.

“I said no for a couple of reasons, one of which I’m going to explain to you now. Primarily, you are simply too young,” Joel held up his hand. “Period, end of discussion. No ifs, ands, or buts about it son. Before any of this happened you couldn’t have joined the service, any branch, without parental consent until you were eighteen. With parental consent you still couldn’t until next year, because you’d need to be seventeen.”

Joel let that sink in for a few seconds before continuing. “Your mother and I figured this was coming at some point and I’d already asked Major Jensen about the minimum age to enlist.”

“So Maya didn’t say anything about it?” Josh asked.

“No, but it’s interesting to know that she
did
know something about it. Your sister is going to bear some watching now, but of course you probably already knew that.” Joel said. It wasn’t a question.

“You had to have known she knew already. Don’t try to pin that on me, Dad, I’m not going to feel guilty for spilling the beans when there wasn’t anything to spill. I don’t think I even confirmed anything you didn’t already know.” Josh shook his head. “You and Mom are so smart it’s scary sometimes.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment and hope there was no disrespect intended,” Joel said. “Be that as it may, my point—points—still stand. You are too young to join the Army. I’m assuming that’s what you were going to say and unless you shock me with something like the local chapter of the 4-H, my answer is going to be the same.”

“What if Mallory lowers the requirements, or changes the age, or makes an exception?” Josh asked.

“Major Jensen, which is how you will refer to her when you are talking about her in her official capacity, won’t be doing that.” Joel was trying to make a couple of points at the same time regarding Mallory’s rank and title. “Like I said, I’ve already discussed this with her and she feels that the age restrictions were good enough before things went south and sees no need to either change them, or make individual exceptions.”

“So where does that leave me? Bored and frustrated for the next year and a half?” Josh asked.

“Not entirely. Once you turn eighteen, technically your mother and I can’t say boo about what you decide to do. We have no control over you or your destiny. We
hope
that we’ve taught you well enough to not make rash decisions and just jump into something because you’ve been kept away from it for so long that you want to rebel against us,” Joel said. “On the other hand, there’s nothing wrong with being in the military. They sure saved our bacon three months ago, after all. Eric learned a lot that has come in handy, and over the last two hundred years the Army has proven to be necessary in more ways than one for this country.”

Joel paused for a second and leaned towards his son, “Josh, if this is what you really want to do, waiting eighteen months, or so, isn’t going to kill you, and it will give you time to find out just about everything there is to know about the decision you’re looking to make. Like I said, we can’t stop you once you turn eighteen, but we want you to be sure.”

“I think I’m sure, Dad. I know that sounds dumb, but I really do,” Josh said.

“Well then, in that case, what would say to…?”

…

“And last is the JROTC program for the High School.” Mallory said to her assembled command staff. They were still meeting in a tent as she refused to allow them to build a headquarters building while people were still
living
in tents without floors, or even half walls. Captain Eric Tripp, Lt. Allen Halstead, 2
^nd
Lt. Doug Jackson, and First Sgt. Bill Stewart were wrapping up the afternoon meeting.

“We’ll be announcing it at the High School on Monday,” Jackson said.