plan.
“The squad car ain’t gonna make it up the forest road,” the sheriff said. “So if it’s okay by Charlie, I’ll ride with you folks?”
“Fine by me, boss,” Charlie said, and threw another mock salute.
While the sheriff transferred his gear from the squad car, Charlie and Fred got some smokes lit. Fred heard the flick of lighters behind him as others followed their cue.
“This is a no-smoking bus,” he heard Ellen Simmons say.
“Lady, tonight, I don’t give a fuck,” someone said, and there was a chorus of laughs in the bus.
A minute later the sheriff returned, Charlie got the bus started and they headed out.
* * *
“You’re in charge, Big Bill,” Charlie said. There were now four of them at the front of the bus, Doc standing at Bill’s shoulder, staring out at the gloom beyond the headlights. “Which way from here?”
Their first hurdle was an obvious one. They had to get past the collapse that had swallowed the convoy.
“Go south past the Bedford farm,” the sheriff replied. “We’ll be heading well away from any of the collapses we’ve seen so far. It leads us almost directly onto the old forest track if we cut across the Patersons’ paddock. And there’s the bonus that it’s a quiet road. Maybe the feds ain’t got out that way yet and we’ll get a clear run at it.”
Fred couldn’t get the route fixed in his head, but Charlie seemed to know where he was going. They turned off the main highway a minute later and were soon weaving and turning along a network of little more than farm tracks. The bus bounced and rattled across the ruts, but nobody complained of the bumpy ride. Charlie kept the speed low; there were no other lights apart from the bus’s own headlights, just enough for them to see twenty yards or so ahead at any given time. They passed a farm that Fred recognized—the Carltons’ place. Jed, their youngest, had been in his class in junior high, and they’d spent some time together one summer back then, shooting rabbits in these fields.
“I ain’t been out this way since I was a boy,” Fred said.
Charlie smiled sadly.
“I started out here myself. And it ain’t changed much. Poor folks getting slowly poorer until they wear out and die, leaving more poor folk to take over.” He spat out of the window. “Didn’t you ever wonder why I signed up for ‘Nam?”
The bus bounced along more rutted tracks for ten minutes, and eventually rumblings of discontent started among the passengers. Charlie merely laughed. He clicked on the intercom mike and his voice filled the vehicle.
“Ain’t gonna get any smoother, folks. Better get used to it. Or maybe I’ll just stop and let those that want to get out?”
They drove on in silence after that.
There was no sign of any fresh ground collapses out here, but neither was there any sign of life. Normally on a night drive in the country, headlights would pick out critters in the road—rabbit, hare, ‘coons and, as Fred knew all too well, deer. Fred realized he hadn’t seen any wildlife at all since before everything had gone to shit. Not even one of the black crows that were normally so noisily present on the rooftops; though whether they too had been sucked down into the dark, or whether they’d been smart enough to fly off, there was no way of knowing.
They passed three farms in the next ten minutes, but there were no lights on in any of them, and no trucks in the driveways. Fred was trying hard not to think of the people lost when the road under their convoy collapsed. He only hoped that these poor farmers had chosen another way out of town.
The booze he’d had earlier was wearing off now, his thoughts clearing. It wasn’t something he was particularly happy about, and he now wished he’d had the foresight to sneak a bottle of bourbon from the bar when they left. Given their current predicament, it might be some time before he tasted liquor again, and he foresaw many nightmares between now and then.
At
“The squad car ain’t gonna make it up the forest road,” the sheriff said. “So if it’s okay by Charlie, I’ll ride with you folks?”
“Fine by me, boss,” Charlie said, and threw another mock salute.
While the sheriff transferred his gear from the squad car, Charlie and Fred got some smokes lit. Fred heard the flick of lighters behind him as others followed their cue.
“This is a no-smoking bus,” he heard Ellen Simmons say.
“Lady, tonight, I don’t give a fuck,” someone said, and there was a chorus of laughs in the bus.
A minute later the sheriff returned, Charlie got the bus started and they headed out.
* * *
“You’re in charge, Big Bill,” Charlie said. There were now four of them at the front of the bus, Doc standing at Bill’s shoulder, staring out at the gloom beyond the headlights. “Which way from here?”
Their first hurdle was an obvious one. They had to get past the collapse that had swallowed the convoy.
“Go south past the Bedford farm,” the sheriff replied. “We’ll be heading well away from any of the collapses we’ve seen so far. It leads us almost directly onto the old forest track if we cut across the Patersons’ paddock. And there’s the bonus that it’s a quiet road. Maybe the feds ain’t got out that way yet and we’ll get a clear run at it.”
Fred couldn’t get the route fixed in his head, but Charlie seemed to know where he was going. They turned off the main highway a minute later and were soon weaving and turning along a network of little more than farm tracks. The bus bounced and rattled across the ruts, but nobody complained of the bumpy ride. Charlie kept the speed low; there were no other lights apart from the bus’s own headlights, just enough for them to see twenty yards or so ahead at any given time. They passed a farm that Fred recognized—the Carltons’ place. Jed, their youngest, had been in his class in junior high, and they’d spent some time together one summer back then, shooting rabbits in these fields.
“I ain’t been out this way since I was a boy,” Fred said.
Charlie smiled sadly.
“I started out here myself. And it ain’t changed much. Poor folks getting slowly poorer until they wear out and die, leaving more poor folk to take over.” He spat out of the window. “Didn’t you ever wonder why I signed up for ‘Nam?”
The bus bounced along more rutted tracks for ten minutes, and eventually rumblings of discontent started among the passengers. Charlie merely laughed. He clicked on the intercom mike and his voice filled the vehicle.
“Ain’t gonna get any smoother, folks. Better get used to it. Or maybe I’ll just stop and let those that want to get out?”
They drove on in silence after that.
There was no sign of any fresh ground collapses out here, but neither was there any sign of life. Normally on a night drive in the country, headlights would pick out critters in the road—rabbit, hare, ‘coons and, as Fred knew all too well, deer. Fred realized he hadn’t seen any wildlife at all since before everything had gone to shit. Not even one of the black crows that were normally so noisily present on the rooftops; though whether they too had been sucked down into the dark, or whether they’d been smart enough to fly off, there was no way of knowing.
They passed three farms in the next ten minutes, but there were no lights on in any of them, and no trucks in the driveways. Fred was trying hard not to think of the people lost when the road under their convoy collapsed. He only hoped that these poor farmers had chosen another way out of town.
The booze he’d had earlier was wearing off now, his thoughts clearing. It wasn’t something he was particularly happy about, and he now wished he’d had the foresight to sneak a bottle of bourbon from the bar when they left. Given their current predicament, it might be some time before he tasted liquor again, and he foresaw many nightmares between now and then.
At
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