The Journal: Raging Tide: (The Journal Book 4) Page 3

  “From this point on, I’m not sure what we will find. The mine started building a new road they could haul the ore over without disturbing the population of Moose Creek. I’ve heard they had finished clearing the trees away before being forced to halt construction. It seems they ran into a wetland area and the government made them stop.” I looked around and pointed. “Over there should be the beginning of that road. If it’s as good as I think, it should take us all the way to US-41 west of Marquette.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Jim said enthusiastically. “I’m anxious to see how the Shopmore store survived the earthquakes. We should be able to pick up a few more supplies before we head to Sawyer.”

  “Sawyer?”

  “I want to refuel, and get some intel on what we might find ahead.”

  “Makes sense. Are you concerned at all they may ask you to stay, or even detain us?”

  “No, Allex, I’m not. I wouldn’t put either of us in that kind of danger. I’m still a colonel in the United States Army. Only a brigadier or major general outrank me and last time I checked, there was only a major there,” Jim replied.

  “Okay. Let’s try this road then and see what kind of time we can make,” I said, anxious to be on the move.

  *

  The road turned out to be better than I had expected. It was cleared of trees and smoothed out, even packed down, and we made steady progress heading south. It was noon when we came across the first house.

  “I doubt it’s worth checking out. What do you think, Jim?” I asked, looking at the scorched beams of what was once a large log cabin set far back from the road.

  “Looks to be an old fire. We could take a closer look if you’re curious,” he answered.

  I pulled my binoculars from a side pocket and searched the area.

  “No movement at all. Let’s keep going,” I said, putting the eyepiece away.

  “I didn’t know you brought those. That was a good idea.”

  “I’m not real anxious to get too close to something I’m not sure of. I’d rather check things out from a distance. I’ve got a longer range scope in my pack if we need it.”

  An hour later we came upon the first wetland area and it wasn’t much, only a bit swampy to the east.

  Jim snorted. “They stopped the road because of that?”

  “Maybe it’s bigger and wetter at different times of the year. I don’t know. Stop a minute, Jim, I want to check something.” I got out of the Hummer and walked to the edge of the new road. “Look here, there’s some serious erosion. I bet this section does flood at some point.” I opened the map up, guessed where we were, and drew blue lines through the road.

  We passed a few more houses, none of which looked occupied. The closer the houses were, the rougher the road became, and then there was pavement. A mile later we came to US 41.

  “Hot damn!” Jim said, slapping the steering wheel gleefully. “We made it!”

  “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 stu
ffed 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.”

  CHAPTER 4

  April 7

  I woke to the sun streaming in through the dusty plate glass doors. The fire had gone out and it was cool in the room. Jim was gone from the mattress on the other side of the room.

  “Are you ready for some coffee?” he said from the kitchen.

  I sat up with a start and winced at the pain in my head. There’s nothing worse than a wine hangover, except maybe finding four bodies in a really nice, posh house.

  “I will be as soon as I find some aspirin,” I moaned, and made my way to the door in the kitchen where Jim had found the powder room. I opened the medicine cabinet over the sink and found that the lady of the house was the perfect hostess. There were two toothbrushes still in wrappers, travel sized toothpaste and floss, plus a variety of painkillers: ibuprofen, aspirin, acetaminophen, in generic and name brand. I set the ibuprofen on the sink and checked the tank of the toilet. It was more than half full, enough for a full flush. I was tempted.

  As I closed the mirrored cabinet, I noticed a second mirror, also on hinges. I opened what turned out to be the circuit breaker box with everything neatly labeled. At the very bottom of the first row, was one that said “generator”, set in the off position. I took my ibuprofen in search of some drinking water.