Where the entrance ramp met the interstate was Dooley’s mother.
Her poor body a twisted, mangled mess, her limbs bent in unnatural ways. Seeing her laying on the ground, violently tossed and left behind was so horrendously sad, unexpected and shocking.
I stepped back with a gasp, leaning my back against the truck. Closing my eyes, I took a few quick deep breaths to calm myself. When I opened them, I looked up to the sky and saw something else I didn’t expect to see.
It wasn’t like the night on Martin’s porch, it looked different.
I knew what it was.
Tiny explosions, multitudes of them, silently burst one right after another. Buried in the densely overcast sky, the gray of the clouds made them appear a beautiful pink. It reminded me of fireworks masked behind plumes of smoke. But they weren’t any celebratory display. It was the offensive move of the Jupiter project, firing off their last stand.
A transformed version of the Star Spangled Banner
The rockets red glare, the bombs bursting in air … a final move to ensure our world will be here.
Somehow, I didn’t feel patriotic or hopeful seeing it. I was scared.
The clock had started ticking.
The countdown was on.
If it didn’t work, it wouldn’t be long before the winds of Ares hit, and we were still nine hundred miles from safety.
FOURTEEN – REVAMPING
Just about two hundred miles were under our belt when we stopped for lunch a couple of miles before Sikeston, Missouri. We pulled our convoy into a truck stop. No one was working at the gas station, but a handwritten sign on the pumps indicted they worked and to take only what was needed.
I felt guilty because it was the first time we filled gas cans.
Technically we did need it.
There was an uncertainty with every hour what we would face ahead, and we needed to prepare.
We had seven hundred and fifty miles to go until the safe region and by my estimate, if Julius was right, twenty-two hours until Ares.
Plenty of time if we didn’t run into trouble.
What were the odds of that?
Although, at that particular moment at that truck stop, there was a sense of, ‘were we overreacting?’. The sun was out, the sky was clear with the exception of a few clouds.
Maybe it worked.
Maybe the Jupiter defensive worked fast and broke the cloud.
There was still electricity at that truck stop, the sign was lit up. Perhaps all the destruction stayed out west.
The dark skies seemed to fade the farther east we went.
The truck stop diner and store were lit up as well, but they weren’t open. The doors were locked.
Our plan was to stop, let the kids run a little, eat and get back on the road.
I took a couple packs of hotdogs from the RV fridge and boiled them on the Coleman stove.
It wasn’t my best meal.
My head was full, my heart heavy and I kept thinking about Dooley’s parents. It was worse when Dooley was asking for his Mama. I knew eventually he would stop calling out, and as time went on it would be up to whoever raised him to keep his mother and father’s memory alive.
I wish I knew them better. The only true memories I have of his mother is her being sucked out of the garage and dead on the road.
One day he would ask to see a picture or what they looked like.
Lane suggested that maybe there was something in their bags.
I’d look once we finished our journey.
After calling out to the kids we had ten more minutes, I started the process of cleaning up.
That was when I noticed Alice was taking items from the back of her truck. She didn’t have much in there, we had moved a lot to the bus and the RV already.
Thinking it really wasn’t a good time to start organizing, I walked over to her.
“Hey,” I said. “What’s going on?”
“I was gonna finish this up and come talk to you,” she replied. “I’m heading back.”
“Back?” I asked.
“Home. To Tucson.”
I stuttered some, completely in shock at her sudden revelation. “Al ... Alice, you know what’s happening.”
“No, I don’t. I know you have predicted a lot. But you didn’t predict this …” She pointed up to the sky. “I think it’s over and the worst is behind us.”
“Yeah and following us.”
Alice smiled and shook her head. “I don’t think so. I really do think it’s done. Didn’t you say they launched the weather bombs to stop it? I think it worked.”
I wanted to believe that, too. I thought it, but I had this feeling, like watching a horror movie and everything is serene, but you know the big ending is about to come. That was the feeling I had.
“Can I ask you not to leave?” I questioned. “Is there any way to talk you into staying?”
“I have to go back, Jana. I have friends, family. If it ain’t over back west, I should be there to do my part, not ... running across the county to a safe area.”
“I get it. I do. I know the whole ‘it’s the apocalypse’ thing is really hard to believe.”
She closed one eye and nodded. “It kinda is.”
“Well, good luck.” I gave her a hug and then stepped back.
I went to tell Martin, but he had a feeling she was leaving when she was unpacking the truck. She made her goodbye rounds. Organizing the items, she took out, trying to find a place for them added another fifteen minutes to our departure time.
She didn’t leave alone. Three others left with her. A couple and their grandmother, all from the Amarillo area.
They wanted to go home, salvage what they could and start anew.
If everything just stopped, that was an option, but while the so-called doomsday storm still lingered as a possibility, all that was lost by going to West Virginia was a few days traveling.
It was time to go. Our goal was
