It made the noise but didn’t turn over.
Again, I tried. “Please, please, please start.” I turned it again and tapped the accelerator pedal.
It started.
There was no time to waste. Fearful it would die again, I hurriedly placed it in gear and pulled forward.
The needle on the gas gauge barely moved above E. But it was above E and that was enough to get to Lane and get close to Crow.
I would be lying if I said I didn’t envision my husband dead the entire five minutes it took to get back to him.
I drove fast, hands clutching the wheel and leaning close to it as if that made a difference. I kept the truck running when I arrived back.
In a panicked state, heart racing out of control, I ran to him yelling out, “Lane!”
I saw him look over his shoulder at me and I exhaled strongly. I still shook, my mind had gotten away from me.
The first thing I did was help Lane into the truck.
He sat in the passenger’s seat and his head tilted my way. “I’m proud of you,” he said. “I promise, I will kick this thing’s butt.”
“I know you will. But we’re gonna get you some medication to help you fight.” I kissed him softly. I could feel the fever on his lips. Stepping back, I closed the door.
I probably could have put the stuff in the back end of the truck a little better. I just tossed it in and made sure we had everything.
Martin’s radio charger was in the truck and I put the radio in the charging stand.
Hopefully it would charge, and I could let Martin know.
For the time being, my focus was to get him off the highway and somewhere comfortable, then find what he needed.
I was scared, too scared my attempts would be in vain. Looking at my husband, so sick, I feared I was going to lose him no matter what I did.
TWENTY-THREE – WHITE RABBIT
There was absolutely nothing in Crow. I hadn’t paid attention when we rolled through, having set our sights immediately on the warehouse. It was a community made up of homes, each spread a good distance apart.
When we had left the day before, it was in the middle of a fierce storm and there was six inches of water on the ground.
It was still there. Something big rolled in after we left. Flattening homes. The entire area looked like a lake, all I saw was water and had it not been for the broken trees and partial remains of homes, I wouldn’t have known if I was driving on the road.
It was a scary situation. The needle was kissing E and there was nothing around. I had to keep driving and hoping.
A mile or so beyond Crow, as the water lessened, I saw the first person since we hit West Virginia. A man stood in the road, frantically waving his hands for me to stop.
He stood on the road outside of what looked like the remains of a church.
The man wasn’t much older than us and I really didn’t want to stop.
He didn’t look hurt, but he did appear just as disheveled as we did.
What kind of person would I be if I kept going? Then again what kind of fool would I be if I stopped, and he took the truck?
“What’s wrong?” Lane asked. “Are we stopping?”
“There’s a man in the road waving for me to stop.”
“Have the gun ready,” he said, then coughed.
“It’s in the back.”
“Jana, it’s not supposed to be in the …” he didn’t finish his sentence, he broke into a coughing spell.
Stopping the truck, I wound down the window part way.
The man spoke desperately. “Any way I can get a ride with you folks? I’ll ride in the back?”
“I don’t know how far we’ll get,” I told him. “I’m almost out of gas and my husband is sick. I think it’s pneumonia.”
“Do you think you have two miles left in the tank?” he asked. “Daniels is a couple miles west. They have drug stores. That’s where I’m trying to get.”
“What’s the next nearest?” I asked.
“About ten miles. Maybe they’ll be gas there. But I don’t know if they were hit.”
“Let him in,” Lane said, using all of his strength to scoot to the center of the seat.
“Get in,” I told him.
“Thank you.”
He hurried around the front of the truck and got inside. He didn’t have any belongings, nothing in his hands, just the clothes on his back. A dark blue shirt and a pair of jeans.
“Sturgis,” he introduced himself, closing the door. “And again, thank you.”
“I’m Jana and this is my husband Lane.”
“My God, I can feel the heat from this man. How long’s he been sick?”
“Since last night. We got wiped out with water, he nearly drowned.”
“Maybe there will be someone in Daniels who will help. I know they were evacuating people to storm centers in Beckley” Sturgis said. “You’ll see a turn up here to the right. Take it.”
“Are you from around here?”
“Beckley. I work maintenance at the church. I was trying to get it secure, thought I did, but then a big one rolled in yesterday morning. I don’t need to tell you, you probably got caught in it.”
“I don’t know what we got caught in,” I replied.
“Me either. It was a hurricane on land.”
Immediately, I thought of Reverend Barrows and what he had said. How massive that storm front had to be.
“I appreciate the ride,” he said. “Man, this guy is hot.”
Lane replied, sounding dopey and tired. “Thanks, my wife thinks so, too.”
Sturgis laughed and I laughed.
Lane was joking. That was a good sign.
Unfortunately, what we approached wasn’t.
The water wasn’t as deep, an inch or so on the road, but as we approached Daniels, it was a mobile home cemetery. The metal structures that were once homes for people spread out everywhere as if they were dropped from the sky. Most were torn apart, fiberglass sticking out of the broken edges.
Furniture was scattered about,
