Into The Darkness (4 page)

The
truck sluggishly accelerated out of the hotel parking lot and onto the adjacent
road. The men observed their surroundings in silence. Some cars were still in
the correct lane in the street, while others appeared to have been pushed to
the side. It was strange to see so many stalled cars on the road. On this late
morning, people were walking down the sidewalks or using bicycles to get
around. A few of the people appeared to be greatly fatigued from having to
walk, red faced and panting from lack of exercise. Dylan suspected that some of
them had been stranded on the highway and were now walking into town looking
for help.

Chet
cautiously approached a four-way stop next to a convenience store. There was a
sign in the store’s front window written in capital letters, CASH ONLY. Chet’s
truck was getting attention from a small group of men near the convenience
store parking lot. As Chet passed the intersection, the men stepped into the
street, blocking the path of the truck. A man stepped forward from the group
and positioned himself closer to Chet’s truck. He was a bearded man with long
hair and dark sunglasses, wearing worn jeans, a dirty shirt, and leather vest.
His leather boots had capped metal toes. Those boots would be perfect to kick
with in a fight. Chet stopped the truck to maintain his distance from the men.
Dylan pointed to a tire iron and baseball bat near the tailgate of the truck
and nodded to Kevin, knowing that they could not expect Richard to join the
fight.

The
man in the street took another step toward the truck, raised his right arm and extending
a finger directly at Chet and yelled, “Hey, who do you think you are? Why are
you so special? This thing is a piece of shit! I have a nice ride. You should
be the one walking.” His cheek was full of tobacco and he spit the dark juice
onto the asphalt as if he was marking his territory.

Dylan
looked into the cab of the truck from the rear window. He saw that Lee had the
rifle level with the dashboard and the barrel pointed toward the door. Lee’s
hand was on the door handle and he was primed for action. The men in the street
could not see the rifle that Lee had ready for them.

Dylan
stood in the bed of the truck and said loudly, “We don’t want any trouble.
We’re just moving through—”

The
bearded man interrupted Dylan, angrily yelling, “Shut your mouth! If I want any
shit out of you, I’ll squeeze your head!”

Dylan
quickly turned to the rear of the truck and stepped toward the tailgate. He
jumped out of the truck, landing solidly on both feet and reached back into the
truck bed to grab the baseball bat. He did not want to fight, but he knew this
needed to end, and would not tolerate any delays in his plan. As Dylan walked
to the front of the truck toward the lunatic, he quickly glanced up at Kevin
and shrugged his shoulders. Kevin nodded to Dylan in a way that meant, “I am
glad you are doing that and not me.” Richard cowered in the truck’s bed, just
as Dylan had expected.

Pointing
the bat at the man, Dylan said, firmly, “Listen, asshole, like I said, we don’t
want any trouble. Step back from my good friend’s truck and we’ll be on our
way.”

The
man moved his right foot back and turned his left shoulder toward Dylan,
narrowing his profile. Quickly, the man reached into his back pocket and pulled
out a switchblade with his right hand. He pointed the blade at Dylan and said
with gritted teeth, “I am going to stick that bat up your ass sideways.” Then
he stepped toward Dylan.

At
that moment, Dylan heard the loud report of a rifle discharging. He had not
noticed the bald man with a pistol behind the group, but Lee did. By the time
the bald man had pulled the pistol from under his shirt and begun to point it
toward Dylan, Lee had the rifle on center mass of his target. Lee pulled the
trigger and the bald man collapsed, falling backward. The pistol landed near
its owner’s warm corpse. As the bearded outlaw turned toward Lee, the bat Dylan
had already begun to swing met him directly in the face. On impact, Dylan felt
the man’s skull collapse and sunglasses disintegrate simultaneously. Lee
stepped forward to get the fallen pistol and moved the barrel of the rifle from
side to side at the group of men in the street. Dylan bent over to get the
switchblade, but he knew that what he really needed was the pistol.

While
Lee was still stepping backwards to the truck, Dylan had already jumped back
into the truck bed and dropped the bat where he found it. The men in the street
parted into two groups and moved away. Lee sat back down in the truck and held
the pistol out the window, ready for action. As the truck began to move forward
again, Richard said to Dylan, “Hey, I didn’t know you liked to play baseball.”

“Maybe
you can play next time.”

“No,
thanks.”

It
did not take long to drive across the small town and find the ramp to the
interstate going north. This highway took them to an access point for the
headwaters of the Missouri River and, according to Dylan’s plan, equipment for
the long journey home. As they traveled to their destination on the highway,
they passed many stalled cars. People were walking on the highway, most waving
for the vehicle to pull over. The men drove onward without slowing. Dylan could
see how these roads were going to become very dangerous. He knew traps would be
set and people would be killed in the struggle for survival. He felt confident
that his decision to use the river was the right one.

He
remembered the sign on the convenience store that they recently passed, warning
of cash-only transactions, and became slightly nervous. They wanted to get the
equipment with credit cards because what they needed to survive would cost more
than the cash they had with them. Dylan’s plan to get equipment was based upon
the assumption most people had, that the power would be on again soon. Get the
seller to capture the information from their cards and complete the sales
transaction when the lights come back on. He hoped the suits added to their
respectability, which would help insure that their credit cards were accepted.

The
truck was going fast enough that the three men in the back crouched down as low
as possible to avoid the annoyance of the wind trying to knock them over. At
highway speed, the turbulent wind passed over the cab of the truck and whipped
around the men’s heads, creating enough noise to discourage talking to one
another.

Dylan
saw the sign for their exit and knocked on top of the truck’s cab as a
reminder. Chet had already seen the sign and started slowing down to pull over.
According to the map, the access road was parallel to a small lake connected to
the headwaters. The store where they planned to get their equipment was on this
road and near the lake’s shoreline. The brochure for this facility described it
as a family operation. Dylan assumed that the owner lived nearby and would be
resourceful enough to make it to work even under the current circumstances.

The
sky was clear and they guessed by the position of the sun that it was about
noon. The waters of the lake were calm and devoid of boats. They noticed one
person casting a fly rod. Dylan was not a fisherman, but already knew how
important that would become in order for them to get food to stay alive. The
store and marina area became visible in the distance and they noticed a pickup
similar in age to what they were in. It was parked in front of the store. Kevin
and Richard were still kneeling with their backs turned away from the front of
the truck. Dylan’s eyes squinted in disbelief. The
store was open!
Dylan saw the bright
neon light in the store’s front window blinking, OPEN.

Dylan
tapped the kneeling men with his foot and said, “Get up! Look, the lights are
on!” Both men quickly stood to attention and immediately saw the flashing neon
light and the fluorescent lighting inside the store. Speechless, they looked at
each other in amazement at the site of electric lights. The truck slowly
coasted to a stop at the side of the store. Chet turned off the ignition and
the sound of an emergency generator from the back of the store became obvious
to the men. The subtle hope that maybe, just maybe, the power was not out
everywhere faded away and reality set in. Each man grabbed his possessions from
the back of the truck and set them against the side of the store on a narrow sidewalk.
Chet remained in the driver’s seat, and Dylan stepped up to the window.

“Chet,
I can’t thank you enough for giving us a ride here,” Dylan said, as he shook
Chet’s hand.

Chet
replied, “No problem, glad to help. The only advice I can give you is to stay
dry.”

“Hey,
buddy, come around here,” Lee said, as he slapped the outside of his door with
the palm of his hand.

Dylan
went to the opposite side of the truck and reached through the truck’s open
passenger window to shake Lee’s hand. Lee extended his arm and handed the
pistol to Dylan. “You earned it,” Lee chuckled. “You have some big balls.”

Dylan
accepted the pistol and thanked Lee profusely. He gripped the handle and
extended his index finger to touch the safety, ensuring that it was in the
correct position. The gun would be a nice
insurance policy
. Dylan turned to
look around and see if anyone noticed him with the pistol. No one was around,
just as he expected it would be. The pistol fit nicely in the deep front pocket
of his dress pants.

Chet
backed the truck away from the store, turned toward the highway, and drove
away.

Dylan
slapped Kevin and Richard on the back and said, “Men, let’s go shopping.”

The
store’s front door was open a few inches, held ajar by a rock on the floor. Dylan
grasped the handle and shoved the door back. A cowbell attached to the door
clanged loudly. The three men entered the store with Dylan in the lead, just as
an older man, looking flustered and walking with a cane, emerged through the
backroom door.

“Hey,
there. Sorry the power is out. You’re my first customers today. I was beginning
to think no one was going to show up.” The old man forced a smile. “It’s a nice
day for fishin’ or what not…you don’t plan to fish in those suits, do ya?” He
leaned forward and gripped the cane’s handle with both hands for balance.

“Oh,
the suits,” Dylan replied, acting surprised. “We had a business meeting today.
It was cut short, you know. Having no power created a small change of plans for
us. So…here we are...ready to go fishing in Big Sky country and we want to get out
on the water, too.”

“Okay,
do you gentlemen need to rent a boat for the day?”

Richard
interrupted and said, “I need a cigarette, I’ll be outside.”

Irritated,
Dylan ignored Richard and faced the storeowner to speak. “We are interested in
rafts, one for each of us. They need to be big enough for a man and plenty of
camping equipment. We also want to move fast through the water. Do you have
anything like that?”

The
man rubbed the gray stubble on his face and thought for a brief moment as he
looked in the direction of the rafts against the far wall. “Follow me, I’ll
show you what you need.”

Using
his cane, he directed them to the type of raft they needed. The man described
the raft as having multiple air chambers. If one chamber was punctured, the
others would remain inflated. There was plenty of room for a man and equipment,
maybe even two men. Dylan saw that there were oarlocks for rowing and he knew
that using the oarlocks would allow for greater speed on the water.

“Looks
good to me,” said Dylan. “We need to catch some fish, too. Right, Kevin?”

Kevin
nodded in agreement, adding, “But I don’t have the patience to fly fish for
trout. What about bass, and maybe catfish, too?”

“That’s
easy enough. I’ve got lures, trot line for catfish, whatever you need is on the
wall next to us.” The man turned and looked at the backroom, like he had just
remembered something. “Sounds like you know what you want. I’ll be back in a
second.” The man disappeared into the backroom.

Dylan
tapped on the glass window to get Richard’s attention. Richard flicked his
cigarette butt onto the gravel of the parking lot and came back into the store.
Dylan showed him the rafts and pointed out the fishing equipment. He told them
they could throw a line into the water at night when they sleep or tie a line
to the raft when they are on the water. This would be the most efficient way to
fish. Dylan also thought it would be a good idea to get a plastic tarp for each
man. They could use the tarp to shield themselves from rain and to sleep under
at night.

“Just
tell me what to get and I’ll put it by the checkout,” Richard said.

“Follow
me and take what I do,” said Dylan. “Let’s make three piles, one for each of
us.”

Dylan
glanced around the store. He knew this might be his last opportunity to acquire
supplies before people began to realize how bad it was and how much worse it
would become. He estimated that it could take a few months to make it back to
Kansas City, so it was critical that they get as many supplies as possible.
Dylan knew that Kevin did not live as far away, but he lived with his wife in a
large apartment building in the downtown area of Omaha. As he thought about
where Kevin and his wife lived, he remembered what the colonel had told him that
morning. The urban areas would transcend into war zones as soon as people began
to starve.

Dylan
lived in suburbia, but not far enough from the city to please himself. He knew
there was a chance for bad things to happen in his neighborhood, but at least
he lived on the edge of his town and many miles from a big urban area. He did
derive some solace from the realization that his home was actually closer to
some small farms and open fields than to the concrete jungle of an urban
downtown. He lived in a new subdivision that was not nearly complete. He picked
the lot for his house specifically because it was next to a large county park
and a small creek that flowed into a nearby lake. Having this location kept the
neighbors a little further away, which was what Dylan intended. It would take a
little longer for chaos to make its way to his front door. Richard lived in a
downtown St. Louis condominium. Dylan knew there was no hope for Richard
continuing to live there, but he had not told him that yet.

On
the other side of the farthest aisle, Dylan saw some equipment he should have
already thought about, and realizing that there are more things they needed to
get, he started by selecting a small hatchet. They would need this for firewood.
There was a water filter to purify water for drinking, definitely a must. He
selected three of those. Behind a glass case, he saw a large survival knife. He
had the man’s switchblade from earlier in the day, but that would not be
sufficient. Dylan needed a sturdy fixed blade knife and this one looked like
the kind of knife that would help him survive in the wild, the kind of wild the
world was turning into. His hand tapped the bulge in his right pocket and Dylan
whispered to himself, “9mm cartridges and as many as I can get.”

Dylan
did not hear the store’s owner walk up behind him. He was disgusted and
embarrassed at himself for not being more aware of his surroundings. Being
tired and hungry could not be an excuse. He knew his survival would depend upon
alertness and that he would be tested many times in the future.

“It’s
a nice one, the best I’ve got,” the storeowner said, nodding toward the knife.

“This
knife looks solid, very sturdy,” Dylan replied, as he admired the blade. “I’ll
take it, and we plan to do some target shooting, too. I have a 9mm pistol. Are
those 9mm cartridges?” He pointed toward the locked display case.

“That
they are. How many do you need?”

“I’ll
take what’s on that shelf. We don’t get to shoot much, so we’re going to make
up for that.”

The
old man began to perform a calculation in his mind. He looked at the boxes of
cartridges and then tilted his head upward, looking at the ceiling. “That would
be ten boxes at fifty cartridges to a box.” He tapped his head and said,
“That’s 500 rounds.” The storeowner held his arm parallel to the floor, close
to his body, and stacked the boxes of ammunition on his forearm. Then he gently
bumped his cane on Dylan’s leg and asked in a serious tone, “Do you really want
that much?”

“Yes,
sir. And the knife.”

The
storeowner took his position behind the cash register and explained again that
the power was out. Then the owner said what Dylan had feared, “Cash only.”

Dylan
began to feel a knot tighten in his stomach. He knew he needed the equipment on
the floor to get him back home to his family. He felt his pulse climb, along
with his blood pressure, and started to feel a sense of desperation overcome
his cool temperament. He forced himself to remain calm, however, and said with
resolve what he had already rehearsed in his mind on the way to this store, “Yes,
the power is out. That’s why we’re here now and not later in the week. We’re
going to take this unexpected chance to meet Montana’s outdoors sooner than we
anticipated. As you know, the ATMs are down and that puts us in a bind. What
I’m asking you to do is take this opportunity to help us. I’m sure the credit
card companies have given you guidance for situations like this.”

The
owner shifted his body and leaned on his cane at a different angle. The slight
movement of his body to one side revealed a dusty shelf under the counter
behind him. Dylan immediately recognized an old mechanical credit card machine,
the type that required the card to be placed flat in the device with a sales
receipt placed directly on top of the card. Once the card and paper were in
place, the top of the device slid across the paper and card, imprinting
information from the card onto the receipt.

“There,”
Dylan said, pointing to the dusty credit card machine. “Just use that and when
the power comes on, run the card.” Dylan placed his driver’s license on the
counter. “Here’s my identification.”

The
man poked at the old machine with his cane. “Well…I don’t like to use that
piece of crap…and haven’t for a while…oh, well…okay, let’s get you outta here.”

A
sense of relief erased the tension in Dylan’s body. His pulse slowed and his
body relaxed. He glanced out the store’s window, past the silhouette of Richard
smoking, and saw the water awaiting them. He was anxious to get home and
desperate to see his children. He tapped on the window to get Richard’s
attention and motioned for him to get back inside. After each man exchanged his
credit card for supplies, they thanked the man for his assistance, then carried
their bounty outside, around to the side of the building.

Kevin
crouched down on the narrow sidewalk, patted his pile of gear, and said, “We
should get started.”

Richard
mentioned that he had seen an air compressor behind the store. The three men
used it to put air into the rafts and placed the remaining equipment into each
raft after it was inflated. Then the three men carried the rafts to the boat
dock. They removed their suits and changed into clothes more suitable for the
journey ahead. They put the rafts in the water and climbed aboard. Dylan began to
paddle first. Kevin was right behind Dylan, and Richard followed in close
succession. Dylan did not paddle fast, wanting to accustom his body to this new
activity. As he slowly paddled, trying to find an efficient rhythm, he studied
his surroundings.

The
water was calm, reflecting like a mirror the upward outcroppings of a rocky
bluff. No boats were in sight as the ripples from the three rafts erased the
mirror-like reflection in the water. Dylan heard the screech of a large bird
echo off a nearby cliff. He looked up and saw an eagle. It looked magnificent,
and so graceful coasting in the air above the clear lake. The eagle swept its
wings back and began to descend toward the water. Its speed increased rapidly
as the eagle plunged downward. In a brief moment, the eagle was directing its
power upward away from the lake. Its wings pumped furiously. He could see that
the eagle had a large fish clasped firmly in its talons. The fish was trying to
convulse itself free, to no avail. Dylan watched the large bird disappear with
its meal as he felt the talons of his own hunger grasp his stomach.

He
knew that hunger was going to be a new companion. Life before today was so
easy. If he was hungry, he could just go to the refrigerator or pantry. If he
needed more food, he could go to a grocery store that was open twenty-four
hours a day. Dylan wondered if he could remember ever being hungrier than he
was now. Food had always been easy to come by. He could remember eating for the
fun of it, or simply out of boredom. On rare occasions, he would eat junk food,
but made up for those transgressions with intense physical exercise. He knew
that he was in excellent physical condition before this event, but maintaining
health and stamina while scavenging for food would be a challenge. Kevin was
also very healthy and in good shape, while also being several years younger.
Richard was another story. Dylan knew that Richard was in serious trouble. He
was a chain smoker, practically lived on junk food, and never exercised.

Dylan
was desperate to get back to his family and fought the urge to break away and
go off on his own, at a pace neither of the other men could maintain. Conversely,
Dylan surmised that there might be a survival advantage in maintaining the
group. As he paddled toward the shore on the opposite side of the lake, he
theorized that it might be safer to stay close to land on the wider bodies of
water. If something happened, they could get to shore quicker that way. After
they had glided across the smooth water for several miles, they noticed a
camping area toward the right, near the opposite shoreline. As they floated
closer to the shore, tents and a few vehicles were visible at the small
campsite.

“Hey,
let’s get closer and quietly drift by,” said Dylan, in a hushed tone. “Let’s
see if they say anything to us. I want to get a feel for how other people are
reacting to what has happened.”

They
could smell the wood smoke from a campfire close to the edge of the water.
There were also some cooking utensils near the fire. Dylan gently paddled
closer. He warned the others to stay back away from the shore. If the lakeshore
was free of hazardous obstacles, he would wave them in closer. Dylan’s raft met
the edge of the lake and rubbed bottom. Taking his shoes off, he stepped into
the cold water and pulled the raft onto the shore. He motioned for his two
companions to come in closer and sat on the edge of his raft. A man with short
hair and thick razor stubble came out of a camper and, looking down at a rectangular
pan in his hands, stepped toward the campfire and Dylan sitting on his raft.
When the man glanced up, he was surprised by Dylan’s presence.

Startled,
the man looked around and said, “Oh, buddy, you scared me to death. I didn’t
see you there.” Then he asked, “Are you camping around here? I didn’t hear a
car pull in.”