BT watched as Mike rolled down the gravel driveway. Surrounded by people, BT had never felt more alone. He draped his huge arm around Nicole as they walked back up into the house.
Nicole was crying, partly from hormones run amok, mostly from watching her family drive away. “Will we ever see them again BT?” she managed to ask through her sobs.
“We’d better, because I don’t know how long I can survive your aunt’s cooking,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. It worked for a moment, and she silently thanked him for it.
Carol had stayed in the kitchen opting not to watch the departure. BT came over to see how she was doing.
“Was it wrong of me to not see them off?” she asked the big man. She never gave him an opportunity to respond before she started talking again. “It just felt like that would have been too final, do you know what I’m saying?” BT nodded because that was exactly how it felt. He didn’t tell her that it felt that way no matter where you stood. That wouldn’t have helped. Carol then did something unexpected, she turned and gripped him hard in a bear hug, her hands not making it halfway across his broad back. BT was not used to being thrust into the mode of comforting people, not many people looked to a 6’8” 350 pound bear of a man for solace, it just didn’t happen.
“There, there,” he said, patting her back gently. He thought that he had seen this technique once in a movie and it had seemed to work. He looked more like a person who doesn’t like dogs and taps the tops of their heads gingerly, hoping they’ll go away.
Tony Talbot took this opportune time to enter the kitchen. BT wouldn’t swear to it, but Tony and Carol had seemed to hit it off. Maybe not romantically, not yet anyway, but there was something to be said about being around someone your own age. They had an uncanny ability to ease the mind of the other, shared experiences possibly or maybe even shared worries, didn’t matter. Whatever it was they each found peace in the contact. BT was grateful when Carol broke the hug and acknowledged Tony’s entrance.
BT left the kitchen to go to the living room that overlooked the now empty driveway. Ron, Mike’s older brother, stood looking out as if expecting guests.
“How’s the leg?” Ron asked without turning around.
“Feels better,” BT said aloud. But he thought to himself ‘it hurts a lot’ was only shades better than ‘hurts like hell,’ or maybe it was the other way around.
“When are you planning on leaving?” Ron asked, now looking directly at the big man.
“A day or two at the most.”
“How are you planning on following him?”
“Just follow in the wake of destruction, it’s usually pretty cut and dried with Mike. He doesn’t leave much to chance when he goes somewhere.” “A shortwave radio transceiver might make your life a little easier.”
“How many of those things do you have?”
“Five, I bought three and convinced the store owner to throw in two for free. Didn’t think I was actually going to need all of them but it’s nice to be prepared.” “You sound like Mike, or does he sound like you?” BT asked with a grin.
Ron laughed. “Let’s get you some supplies.”
BT followed slowly behind Ron as they descended into the basement. Ron entered into a room that housed the water heater and furnace. Behind those fixtures was another door. Ron opened that and flipped on a light switch.
BT could not believe what he was seeing. It was a huge room that dwarfed the size of the house it sat under. Metal shelves were lined with canned goods, bags of rice, coffee, flour, sugar, fuel, candles and every other imaginable necessity that people waiting out Armageddon might or might not need.
“Ron, this is like having your own Wal-Mart.”
Ron beamed. “Took me twenty years to gather all this stuff, so who do you think sounds like who now?” “I’d bow to the King of the Crazies if it didn’t hurt so much.”
“That’s alright, I appreciate the sentiment. And I’ve got something that will fix you right up.” for that.” “You truly are a scholar and a gentleman.”
CHAPTER FOUR – Talbot Journal Entry 4
We stopped that first night off of the Mass Pike at a rest stop. The combo Dunkin’ Donuts, Mobil Gas Station and Papa Gino’s had long ago been ransacked but the building itself was in remarkably good shape and easily defendable, two sought after qualities in this brave new world. I had everyone exit the truck and pulled it up so close to the front door only an anorexic zombie would be able to fit through, and I had yet to find one that fit that bill. Gary grabbed the radio out of the back and set it up on one of the red and white checkered pizza joint tables.
“Is it time yet?” Gary asked.
“He said he would keep it on all the time, so I would imagine any time would be fine,” Tracy answered.
“Breaker one nine, breaker one nine,” Gary started. “This is Hammer of the Gods, breaker one nine, Hammer of the Gods over.” “Hammer of the Gods?” my wife mouthed the question to me. All I could do was shrug my shoulders.
“Can you hear me Mount Olympus ? This is Hammer, over?” Gary asked.
An out of breath response came through almost as clear as if we were next door and not two states away. “I thought you were kidding about those call signs,” Ron said.
Gary seemed instantly relieved when Ron spoke. It was a connection to normalcy, or at least the Talbot version of it. “ Mount Olympus , this is Hammer, the Chariot of Fire has suffered some damage.” “Chariot of Fire? Gary, speak English. Wait, the truck! What happened to the truck? Get Mike on the horn!” Ron yelled.
I was backing up, my arms outstretched, hands waving back and forth in the negative. “Tell him I’m not here,” I told Gary .
“I can hear you, you little pecker, get on the mic!” Ron said from three hundred miles away.
“Balls!” I said resignedly. “You and me are going to talk, Gary ,” I said softly but with force.
Gary looked taken aback but there was also something else there, something underlying and subtle; it was humor. The ass was loving it. ‘That’s fine,’ I thought to myself, ‘revenge is a two lane highway, and we still had plenty of roadway left before this dance is over.’
“Yeah Ron, this is Mike,” I said with forced cheerfulness.
I had to step back from the speaker as Ron’s yells bellowed forth. “That truck is brand effen new, you’ve been gone for one day. What the hell could you possibly have hit? There’s not even anybody out there.” “Well, there was this moose…” I started.
“You hit a freaking moose? What were you doing, did you take the damn thing off-road?” “See, it’s more like the moose hit us.”
“Forget it!” Ron yelled. I could picture him throwing his hands up in the air the way my mom had so many times before when I was a kid and trouble had somehow found me and then followed me all the way home, and sometimes even inside. “Is everyone alright?” he asked, finally getting down to the important matters.
“Don’t you think that should have been your first question?” I taunted.
“Don’t try me little brother.”
“A little shaken up but no worse for the wear, you’re going to lose your security deposit though.” I could hear him groan. “That’s fine,” he said grudgingly. I could tell he was struggling within himself to not go ballistic and from this distance it was funny, any closer and not so much. “What are your plans for the night?” he continued.
We had decided before we left that we would check in at least once a day, preferably at the same time, and that I would let him know where we were at and what we planned on doing the next day. There was an innate comfort in somebody knowing where you were at all times. It wasn’t like he could send in the cavalry to rescue us, but maybe, eventually, he would be able to find what remained of us and give us a proper burial, provided of course there were any remains to be found.
“We’re off the Mass Pike, mile marker 70, holing up for the night in a rest stop. Then we’re going to go a little further west tomorrow into Pennsylvania and maybe south depending on if I get any hunches.” “Mike, for the fiftieth time, is this what you want to be doing? The U.S. is huge, how are you going to find one woman?” “No, this isn’t what I want to be doing,” I answered a little snappishly.
“You know what I mean.”
