As they finished their travels across Nevada, U.S. 50 lived up to its name as the Loneliest Road in America. They crossed into Utah and found that nothing much changed other than the weather.
Throughout the day, it was if a massive cold front was moving into the Rockies from Canada. Temperatures began to drop, and the dirty snow began to accumulate. With no other traffic on the road, Owen struggled to keep from dipping two wheels off the shoulder. The asphalt pavement was rough underneath the blowing snow, and the accumulation was growing as it drifted against the rock canyon walls that were only ten feet from the highway.
They drove through a valley near Sevier Lake that caused Owen to fight the wheel as seventy-mile-an-hour gusts threatened to blow them into the rocky flatlands on the south side of the highway. The drive eastward that would’ve ordinarily been smooth and fast was anything but. By the time they approached Interstate 15 where U.S. 50 merged for a short time, Owen was physically and mentally exhausted.
“At Holden, we’ll take the interstate north for five or six miles,” said Lacey as she tried to take Owen’s mind off the struggle. “Then, after a short ride around a mountain, we’ll pick up I-70 for a couple of hundred miles to Grand Junction in Colorado. From there, we can start working our way south and east.”
Owen glanced at the fuel gauge. It would be time to refill the tank soon. Also, it was getting dark fast. He didn’t want to fight this wind and not be able to see the where the pavement ended and the prairie began. It would be a disaster.
“Okay. Let’s start looking for a place. Does Holden look like a large town?”
“Nah. Just like the others. One stoplight and a handful of streets.”
Tucker had pushed himself onto the edge of the back seat and rested his elbows on his parents’ seatbacks. He pointed ahead to a sign. “There’s one of those Rotary Club signs. Looks like there’s a church and a school.”
“LDS,” muttered Owen. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was often informally referred to as the LDS or Mormon church.
“What are you thinking, honey?” asked Lacey.
Owen took a deep breath. “We were lucky at Echo Lake because the place was deserted. We’ve got a lot of nights on the road ahead of us, and each time we stop, we’re at risk. Somehow, I wanna believe a church might be a pretty safe place.”
“Mormons?” asked Tucker.
“Here’s the thing, Tuck,” Owen relayed his thoughts. “I grew up with members of the LDS church in my hometown. They were good people. Sure, they weren’t into the same types of things I was, and their families lived simple lives by comparison. That said, I remember them having an inner peace about them. They were a very close-knit group of people and lived a life of self-sufficiency. During the power outages caused by the fires, they still managed to stay in their homes, cook their meals, and tend to their farms.”
Lacey interrupted his thoughts. “There’s a sign that says we should turn up ahead.”
“Let’s try it, Dad.”
Owen smiled and nodded as he turned his blinker on out of habit. He laughed at himself and then turned it off again. They drove into town just as the sun was setting, at least the best they could tell. Darkness seemed to be the rule rather than the exception. That, coupled with the blowing snow, caused visibility to be poor and barely half a mile.
“There it is!” said Lacey excitedly. She was anxious for her husband to get some relief from the stress of driving. He refused to let anyone else take the wheel, and she respected that he wanted full responsibility for his family.
Owen made another turn and then eased up to the front of the church. There weren’t any cars on the street in front and only a few parked on the wide streets nearby. They hadn’t seen anyone on the sidewalks or porches of the homes in town. Undoubtedly, they were staying out of the inclement weather.
Owen parked the truck. “Tucker, will you stay here and keep an eye out. Your mom and I will see if anybody’s around.”
He opened his door first, and the full brunt of the north wind filled the warm interior. “Whoa!” exclaimed Tucker as he fell back in his seat and started searching for his jacket, which had been used as bedding.
Owen pulled the door closed again. “Guys, it feels like it’s dropped at least twenty degrees since we stopped at the gold mine. I know it’s getting later in the day, but this is nuts.”
“Here ya go,” said Tucker as he passed their North Face jackets forward. “Do you want me to find toboggans in our bags?” Tucker had learned the Southern term for wool knit hats from his mother.
Lacey slipped on her coat and replied, “No. We may not be long.”
Owen did the same and turned to Tucker. “Eyes wide open, son. Take nothing for granted, okay?”
“Yes, sir,” said the teen, who snapped a salute as well. During their drive that day, without unduly creating a mental state of paranoia, they’d discussed the various threats they’d face on the road to the Keys. They all circled around to the most unpredictable of them all. Their fellow man.
Lacey and Owen walked hand in hand through the soot-filled snow that had accumulated on the sidewalk leading to the entrance. They’d barely arrived under the cathedral-slanted roof when one of the double doors opened inward. A man and a woman greeted them.
“Welcome. I’m Bishop Gates, and this is my wife, Anna.”
Lacey allowed her husband to take the lead. “Hello, Bishop Gates, and thanks for letting us in. I’m Owen McDowell from San Francisco. This is my wife, Lacey, and my son, Tucker, is outside in our truck.”
“Oh, you must fetch him,” insisted Anna. “This unexpected cold air could be deadly if he’s exposed too
