14
North
The question came just as they passed the multicity jumble of connecting highways of what was called the Capital Region.
Albany, still the capital of New York State, was considered to have the best defenses of any major city. Families relocated there to take advantage of the superior policing and protection.
The real reason that the Albany-Schenectady area remained safe, Jack guessed, was because no state wanted to risk losing its capital. No one talked too much about the handful of states where that had already happened … places like Lansing, Michigan, that had been hanging on by a thread, even before the outbreak.
But here, the intersection of the Thruway and the Northway was heavily patrolled.
Multiple checkpoints, occasional choppers gliding overhead, gleaming tall turrets along the road with expansive views of the area for miles.
The city area compact and all access points secure.
As to what happened in the surrounding areas, the once-farmland rolling north to Cobleskill and beyond?
Who knew?
A question—Simon’s question—made Jack smile.
“Dad, are we there yet?”
Classic, he thought. Some things never change. He started to answer but Kate was too quick.
“Right, genius. We’re
“Kate,” Christie said. Usually a word from Christie was enough to get Kate to back off her sarcasm.
Simon chose to ignore her.
“Are we, Dad?”
“Well. Look up here.”
He tapped the GPS. Service was so intermittent as to be nearly useless. Now it came to life.
“Shows where we are—”
“Which is in a car, driving—duh!”
Christie turned to the back and gave Kate “the look.” Not for the first time, Jack though. Things could get interesting as Kate got older.
Wanting freedom in a world where that simply wasn’t possible anymore.
“Kate, can you ease up? Please?”
In the rearview mirror, Jack saw his daughter shake her head and then look out the window.
“So, Simon, you see … this is where we are. On this map. If I make it all smaller…”
Jack touched a button on the side and zoomed out from the screen. “There you go. We stay on this highway for a bit, for another hour or so, until we’re in the Adirondack Park.”
“Then we’re there?”
“Not exactly. Got to take a country road to get to the Paterville Camp. Bet it’ll be interesting.”
His question answered, Simon nodded.
Interesting? What would it be like when they left the highway? All the reports showing no problems ahead did little to reassure him.
If the Can Heads could break through the Thruway’s fence, then what could be happening in the small towns that dotted the way to Paterville?
“You okay?” Christie said to him.
They hadn’t talked much since the rest stop. As if letting time go by would somehow make what happened less real.
“Yeah. Fine.”
“I can drive.”
Jack laughed. “I know you can.”
“Don’t know why you always need to drive.”
Yeah. Why was that? he thought. The need to feel in control?
A cop thing? Something he inherited from his rigid-as-steel father. Someone who didn’t believe women should do—or could do—much of anything but cook and clean and raise the kids.
“If I get tired, I’ll let you know. I’m good now.”
“And your leg. Long time to sit.”
“That’s fine, too.”
That was a lie. Sitting in the driver’s seat, in the same position, had produced a growing ache near his wound. He guessed that when he got out of the car, his limp would be back, at least until he loosened the muscles and wrapped up the area again tight with an Ace bandage.
The leg was better. Not perfect, though, and never would be.
Christie reached out and gave his other leg a squeeze, midthigh. Gentle, teasing.
“Good. Just remember, I’m here if you want a break.”
“Gotcha, boss.”
They drove on.
* * *
They passed a sign.
WELCOME TO ADIRONDACK STATE PARK.
Suddenly, the signs turned a rustic brown, themed to show that this region—the shops and towns and homes—was all part of protected land, the great state park.
About as close to wilderness as one could see anywhere near New York City.
But even in this wilderness, Jack saw signs of what had happened. Most of the majestic pines on the side of the road looked untouched, but whole patches of deciduous trees stood leafless, long dead. Almost as if some heatless, smokeless fire had snuffed them out.
Outside, it turned cool enough that he had turned off the AC. Windows open. The sweet smell of pine. The air pungent and cool.
Would the other trees ever come back?
Would whatever killed trees and plants across the country, and led to a blight that decimated the cattle, dairy, and poultry industries worldwide, ever end?
Some trees lived. Some died. Same thing with food crops and livestock.
The world scurried to adjust.
But not fast enough. Certainly not fast enough for the Can Heads, who had their own solution to the problem.
Christie turned to him.
“Smells so good.”
She didn’t point out the obvious: the disturbing leafless trees looking so eerie.
The kids had their faces at the windows. They certainly didn’t see this many trees back at their Staten Island development. And they could even see mountains, still in the distance, but already looking like an amazing backdrop from a film.
“Dad—all those trees. What happened?” Kate asked.
Jack shrugged. “Not sure, honey.”
He was tempted to add something, like
