Ryan Westfield - Pushing On

“We might damage the car,” said Max. “Come on. Give it your all.”

James settled into a good stance, keeping his back straight.

“Go,” said Max.

They both pulled up, as hard as they could. Slowly, they got the gate to start moving. Once they got it past a certain point, the gears seemed to loosen up.

“OK,” said Max. “I can take it from here.”

Max was taller than James, and was able to push the gate almost all the way to its normal open position.

James quickly grabbed his rifle from the ground, and made sure to look around.

Still, there was no one.

“Do you hear that?” said James, looking down the highway.

Max shook his head. “What do you hear?”

“Sounds like an engine. I don’t know. It’s something.”

James stared down the long empty stretch of gray highway, looking past and through the toll booth.

“I don’t see anything,” said Max.

“Me neither,” said James.

“Come on,” said Max. “We’d better get out of here. I hear it now.”

The sound was getting louder. It was definitely the engine of some vehicle. Aside from the Ford Bronco behind them, and their own Honda, there was hardly another noise for what seemed like miles around. The silence made the isolated noise seem eerie and ominous.

“But we’re going to be heading right towards the noise,” said James.

Max nodded. He looked like he was thinking.

“Everything OK?” called out James’s mom, leaning out the window of the beat-up Ford Bronco.

“There’s someone coming.”

There weren’t any options, in terms of where to go. There were guardrails on the side of the highway, and there wasn’t anywhere to drive anyway. If they were going to drive, it was either go forward, towards the noise, or turn around and hope to outrun whoever it was.

The only other option was to abandon the vehicles and hike on out. James knew that that option meant leaving behind all the gear. Not to mention the vehicles.

James’s heart was beating fast. He was nervous, and worried about not only himself, but his family. It was times like these that he was glad he wasn’t the one making the decisions. If it’d been left up to him, he might have panicked and had everyone run into the woods, only to pay for the decision later.

“We’ve got to keep going,” said Max. His expression was hard to read. “Come on, quick. Back in the car.”

“What’s going on?” said Chad, sounding sleepy, as Max and James piled back into the car.

James’s rifle didn’t leave his hand. The solid feel of it made him feel a little better. But not much.

No one answered Chad. If he was so out of it that he hadn’t figured out what was going on, then that was his own problem.

“No one’s going to tell me?” said Chad.

“Just keep your gun ready,” said Max, putting the Honda into first gear.

James was practically holding his breath as they drove through the now open toll gate.

“I can’t hear anything now,” said James. Max was picking up speed. The Honda’s movement drowned out the faint noise.

“Hopefully we’ll just drive by them,” said Max. “Whoever they are.”

“I’m ready to fight,” said James. “I’ll do whatever it takes. You can count on me, Max.”

As he said the words, though, they felt hollow. Sure, they were true. He’d do whatever it took, especially when he thought about his mom and sister. But he felt anything but courageous. His body felt cold and empty, and he wondered if he’d have the strength to fight.

“Just stay ready,” said Max. “Another fight is the last thing we need. We’ll avoid it if we can.”

“Hey man,” said Chad, from the backseat. “Not everyone’s bad, you know? Not everyone’s out to get us. Why do you guys think it’s always about a fight? Maybe whoever it is is just like us, just looking to survive.”

That was probably the most Chad had spoken in the last day.

“Get your rifle ready, Chad,” said Max.

The sun had gone down. It wasn’t missed. John welcomed the darkness, knowing that it would provide them the cover they’d need to escape the area.

He didn’t know who would come or how soon they’d come, but he knew that the sooner they got out, the better.

They’d spent the last few hours preparing, getting as ready as they could.

Derek and Sara were already pretty loaded down. They’d started off with a lot of food, and there wasn’t much room left in their packs. Since no one knew what lay ahead, and whether the two “couples” would split up or continue together, they couldn’t let Derek and Sara take all the cooking gear, for instance. John and Cynthia weren’t exactly a couple, even though they were starting to act like that, with their own way of speaking, and their own special way of getting on each other’s nerves.

But nothing could be perfect, and concessions were made. The main thing was that they packed weapons instead of other useful things. There were so many guns that they had their pick. They each took two handguns and some sort of rifle. They took as much ammo as they could, making sure that they had what matched their gun. Sara was a great deal of help with that aspect of things.

Most of their packs were loaded down with food and water. Derek and Sara cautioned them on how much water they’d need. They couldn’t guarantee they’d find a water source along the way, even with their purification tablets and devices.

John was already well aware of the water situation. It had been difficult for himself and Cynthia when they’d hiked out from the suburbs. But this journey would likely be far, far longer.

They didn’t know where to go. The only idea they had was to head west. West was where Max had gone, to lesser populated areas.

John didn’t hold any illusions that he’d somehow run into Max along the way. The chances were simply too slim. It was better not to hold out any hope. And what difference would it make, anyway?

Sure, seeing family would be comforting, during these intense and trying times, but John reminded himself that he and Max hadn’t been close. It was better to simply focus on forging new relationships, new bonds. Everything had changed, and everyone John had known was likely dead, or about to die. It was better to be pragmatic about the future. New alliances and friends—that was the way to survive. Better than clinging to something that hadn’t ever really been there in the first place. Or to delusional hopes of reconnection.

Not many words were spoken as they prepared. There wasn’t much to say, except exchange ideas on packing, and on what needed to be taken.

Finally, they were ready. None of the four of them needed to announce it. It simply became obvious. The four of them shouldered their packs in silence.

They were ready to leave.

John was lost in his own thoughts for a moment. He turned towards his new companions. He barely knew them, yet he was setting out on a life and death trek across now-unknown lands.

At the very least, they seemed practical-minded. And not overly prone to chitchat. And they seemed like honest people. Not to mention worried and scared. Which was good. They weren’t clueless. They understood the dangers as well as anyone could.

John’s mind occasionally flashed back to the horrors he’d seen in the cities. And to the people he’d seen die in front of him. Their names escaped him now, maybe as a type of defense mechanism. But the images were clean and crisp, burned into his memory.

Cynthia was the first to break the silence that hung between them all.

“Should we do anything to the house?” she said. “Like lock it up?”

It seemed like such a pedestrian worry that John laughed. He hadn’t thought about doing anything with the house except for simply leaving it. Worrying about locking it up, or turning off the gas—those were all pre-EMP worries.