expression.
“Seriously Robert, we can’t ever give up hope on something we want or wish for. At any rate, know that I’m here if you ever want to talk about that, or anything. I’m here for you.”
“I know, Dad. I feel at a loss right now as to what to do or where I fit in. I mean, I was fine while we were flying as I knew what to do and had a place. Now, I feel like I don’t know where that place is,” he says turning his face to the window.
“There is always a place and there’s plenty to do Robert. You and the girls will always have a place with me,” I attempt to answer his feelings of being uncertain.
“I understand and know that, but that’s not what I really mean,” he says. “I guess I mean that I’m thinking you won’t let me help, that you’ll try to keep us safe and won’t let me participate. There are guys on the teams that are close to my age and I always get left behind.”
“I completely understand. It’s really hard for me to explain the protective nature of being a parent; the desire to keep your kids safe no matter what.”
“But I’m not a kid anymore,” he interjects.
“I know and you’re right in that I need to let go a little. I would like to wait until you can be trained better but, well, just know that it’s hard for me to let you be put in a dangerous situation. But you also need to learn,” I reply and pause for a moment to collect my thoughts.
In truth, I have thought about this a great deal and haven’t had any revelations regarding it. He needs to learn and gain self-assurance but I am also hesitant to put him in any situations where he can. I had been expecting a light bulb with the correct decision to go off but the bulb has remained dark to this point.
“You know, you’re right. I need to let you go out more but you still need training. Plus, I do need you in other situations. So, with that said, you can consider yourself officially part of Red Team but you’ll be partnered with me and, for now, only go out when I do,” I say knowing I will never reach a fully thought-out decision but also knowing I have to make one.
“Okay, Dad,” he says with a little more spark in his voice.
We pass Cabela’s off to our right as we continue traveling south. To me, it has taken on this aura similar to the Holy Grail of safety. It sits there, mysterious and inviting but with a hint of peril. The light brown walls hide whatever is within; our salvation or danger. I am wishing we were at its doors now as the unknown drives me crazy; like it doesn’t everyone else. For me, the unfamiliar always held an element of excitement but not an unknown like this. This is definitely one of those times I would like it to be known and known clearly; sharp and defined.
“Remember when we used to go in there and browse forever?” I ask as we both look at the structure passing by.
“Yeah. And the fudge we used to bring home,” he answers.
“That was the greatest. The greatest sugar high and then crash ever,” I say with a chuckle. “The stuff lasted forever. I wonder if there’s any left and if it’s good?”
“Guess we’ll find out soon enough,” Robert replies.
“And, we’ll be able to do a little more than browse now,” I say.
“I call dibs on the sniper rifle in the case,” he says grinning.
“It’s yours. Although I think we’ll find a little better if we can get into the armories on Fort Lewis. But if that one is there, it has your name on it.”
The gray pavement stretches before us as we continue south, the shadows of the fir trees lining both sides cast their shadows across the lonely Interstate. Robert and I maintain conversation about events in our past and some of the memories we shared together as we drive on. The Interstate turns off onto Highway 101 and the sun swings behind us as we head west, with the highway eventually heading north. The drive along the highway becomes even more surreal knowing we passed by this way just a week ago. The week has changed both of us from our experiences. We return with more knowledge and awareness but some of that awareness has also added to our stress. The intense experiences make it seem like more time has passed since driving through here in the opposite direction and adds to the surreal nature of our surroundings. Our conversation dies away slowly as we near the turn off to Mom’s house with worry increasing in both of us.
I feel a great sense of loss as we turn off the highway towards the house. The sense comes from the memories of all of the good times I had with Robert as we pulled onto this highway heading for one fun event or another and realizing those drives won’t happen again; those moments of excitement and anticipation of heading to share the day together.
The sun shines through the trees, forming ribbons of light across the gravel road as we approach the driveway. As the driveway draws near, anxiety and fear intensifies. I don’t want to drive the last few feet for fear of the answer I might find. The sound of the gravel crunches under the tires of the Jeep, rebounding off the thick trees at the side of the road, and is the only sound. A terrible loneliness follows along with the slow crunch of gravel.
I turn into the driveway and immediately begin laughing; both from the release of the nervous tension and from the sight in front of me. There is Mom out in the driveway putting grain out for the squirrels and other wildlife. Only Mom would persist in feeding the deer and squirrels in the midst of civilization collapsing. She drops her large bowl of seed and runs towards us throwing her arms around Robert and then me as we step out of the Jeep.
“I thought I had lost you,” she says with tears streaming down her cheeks. She looks around the Jeep and her hand comes to her mouth as if a shock is coming. “Oh no! Please don’t tell me….”
“The girls are fine, Mom,” I interject before she can complete her sentence and with tears in my own eyes. “We found a few other survivors and they’re waiting at McChord.”
“Thank goodness. Did you find Lynn?” She asks still taking in that we are standing in front of her.
“Yeah, we did along with a few of her friends,” I answer.
“I’m glad you made it. I’ve been so worried for all of you.”
“I’ve been worried about you too. How have things been?” I ask.
“Pretty quiet actually. Oh, I’ve heard some of those horrible yowls some nights but they seemed pretty far away. Nothing like that first night,” she answers.
“That’s good. We’ve come to pick you up. We’re planning on turning the Cabela’s into a fortified haven.”
“I can’t leave, Jack. This place will protect me,” she says.
“I know it will Mom but I want you to come with us. This is a lot worse than you can imagine and we won’t be far away,” I respond. She looks over to Robert who nods his head in affirmation.
“Okay, let me grab a few things,” she says picking up the bowl.
“Need any help?” I ask.
“No, I think I’ve got it,” she answers.
She heads inside the house and returns shortly with several bags in tow. Several times during the trip back to the airfield, I catch a glimpse of movement in the rear-view mirror, continuing to look each time but not seeing anything. I stop on the side of the road after the third time waiting to see if something catches up to us.
“What are we doing?” Robert asks as I slow down and start to pull over.
“I think I keep seeing something behind us,” I answer.
“What is it?” He asks turning to look out of the back window.
“Not sure. I just keep catching movement out of the corner of my eye from time to time,” I respond. “It may be nothing but I want to sit here and see if anything appears.”
We sit with the engine idling but nothing materializes. I turn off the engine and step outside listening for any sound that might give an indication that something is coming up behind us. Only the quiet of the morning with the tinking sound of the engine as it cools down disturbs this desolate stretch of road. I think about turning around and heading back but the anxiety over time and the things we need to get done are weighing on me. I resume the drive after a moment thinking it must be the play of shadows through the fir trees with the sun rising higher into the clear, blue sky or perhaps an occasional breeze shifting the branches.
Our journey back is spent primarily catching Mom up with our adventure and sharing the knowledge we have acquired. Silence fills the Jeep as we turn north onto the Interstate and retrace our previous route. Mom stares at the abandoned cars along the road. This is her first time seeing the emptiness of a world that should be
