A disgruntled trucker said traffic was backed up more than twenty miles from the border and the line was getting longer by the hour. A second driver chimed in to say he had a short wave radio and told them it's the same at all the border crossings into Canada. He added, “A lot of reports indicate several people have been shot trying to force their way into Canada at the Army controlled crossing points. Others say civilian volunteers at non-crossing areas are shooting anyone even close to the border who look like they’re getting ready to cross. Vancouver and Quebec are holding on but slowly losing ground to the zombies. The Atlantic Provinces were lost several days ago.” Sam and JR shook their heads in disbelief. The trucker speaking added, “I’ve dropped my load here and will try to get to Indiana to my family. I’m hauling frozen beef that was destined for Canada. I’ll open the doors and let the people have it. Come on, I’ll give you folks first crack at it.” They went with the driver and claimed several large packages of hamburger and beef steaks, maybe thirty pounds. JR said, “Thanks, but without a freezer any more will just spoil. We’ll be hard pressed to eat this much while we’re traveling every day.” Sam gave the driver one of the 9mm pistols, a fifty round box of ammo, and five hundred dollars to thank him for his generosity. He intended to reward good people for good acts of kindness. It was second nature because it was how he’d been raised.
Sam and J.R. stored the meat in the coolers, then went back inside to order beers, cheeseburgers, and fries. The truck stop manager had quadrupled the price of everything for sale and wanted cash up front. A beer cost $16.00 and a cheeseburger $25. Sam refused to pay the inflated prices just on principle, even though he could well afford it. The restaurant was jammed to overflowing with grumbling truck drivers and others waiting for the border issue to be resolved. Sam and JR turned to leave. Outside, four truckers stood at the doors to enter. Sam said, "There's a national crisis taking place and this asshole manager is robbing everyone instead of being a decent human being. He's charging at least four times the normal price. I'll burn the money I have left before I pay that robber."
They hurried to the truck and got their own beers out of a cooler. Setting inside the cab, they discussed their meager options. Sam's backup plan was to go west into Northern Idaho. J.R. shrugged and agreed with a nod because she had no better suggestion. They'd seen several restaurants on their way through Minot and stopped at the first one still open.
They glanced inside the truck stop prior to leaving and saw a crowd of drivers had the store manager corralled against a wall. JR shook her head in dismay. “Even if the drivers force the manager to drop the food prices back to near normal, it will be hours before everyone is served.” The lot was overcrowded, and it took several minutes of jiggling back and forth to exit through the haphazardly parked vehicles jammed into every opening.
As Sam pulled onto the highway, JR said, “I guess you’re stuck with me; I’ve nowhere else to go. Are you okay with that?”
Sam turned to her and grinned. “Yeah, I’m okay with it. I’m getting use to having you around and like who you’re becoming.”
They quickly backtracked to Minot and found a small diner in the main business district of the town of forty-eight thousand. Before leaving the truck, JR tried to tune the radio. All they heard was static. Earlier after he pumped fuel, Sam discovered the GPS was dead. He had no idea how long it had been out of service. His cellphone stopped working Tuesday. He took those as signs that most services he was used to would soon be only faded memories of the past. They took a road atlas and maps of the northern states with them to map a route to Idaho. “It’s seven thirty; the sign on the door shows the business closes at eight. A dozen people are sitting and finishing their dinners, so we might be in time to get served.”
JR entered alone and asked if Smokey would be allowed inside; she promised he would stay near her and not cause any trouble. The owner frowned, then said, “Hell, why not. We might all be dead next week anyway. At this point I don’t know what matters and what doesn’t. But if it makes a mess, you clean it up. Agreed?” She stared critically at JR’s holstered handgun on her thigh but let it pass.
JR grinned. “Definitely.” She waved for Sam and Smokey to enter. They took a table in the corner near the big plate glass window and ordered. The waitress walked toward the counter in the back as JR reached for Sam’s hand. “I haven’t properly thanked you for picking me up Saturday in Oklahoma. Thank you. Someone else who wouldn’t be as nice and kind as you could have stopped . . . any number of terrible things could have happened. I could be dead by now if it wasn’t for you.” She squeezed his hand, then paid attention to Smokey’s insistent nuzzling.
While eating, they highlighted a route west on secondary highways. Idaho was a little more than seven hundred miles away. With steady driving, it would be another fifteen hours’ drive time.
After dinner they parked in town at a shuttered gas
