Ryan Westfield - Getting Out

“Mom, we can’t go over that.”

“Do you know another way out of here, James?” said Georgia.

She had the pickup stopped right in front of the old covered bridge that ran across the local river. The river didn’t have a name as far as Georgia knew. It wasn’t that big. But it had been once, and while the water level may have only been a trickle, long, long ago the rushing and flowing waters had eroded a sizable canyon. It was known in the neighborhood as the moat, because it essentially cut off all access to the neighborhood.

The only other way out was blocked by the police.

This covered bridge hadn’t been used in at least fifteen years. But there it stood, made of wood, incredibly small, impossibly rickety looking. It looked like it might fall at the slightest breeze.

The township had been talking about putting up a new bridge, or at least tearing this one down, ever since the bridge had been declared off limits. A sign had been put up along with a stupid little gate that blocked unknowing cars from trying to cross it. The engineers had long ago deemed the bridge completely unsafe. It should have been replaced a long time ago, but no one could agree on the new bridge or how much money to spend on it. The result was that there it still stood.

“We’re going to die, aren’t we?” said Sadie, sounding worried.

“I don’t know what else to do, kids,” said Georgia. “If we stay there, well, you saw how crazy Mark McKinney had gotten…”

“To be fair, you were trying to steal all his food.”

“Don’t act like it was just me,” said Georgia. “Plus, we had our reasons.”

“Well,” said Georgia. “Here goes nothing.”

She knew she was putting the lives of her and her children at risk. But it was more of a risk to stay put in the neighborhood.

She pushed her foot down on the accelerator. The last thought she had, as they started to race towards the out-of-commission bridge, was that she should have first driven by to see if the police barricade really had been up. But she’d had her reasons not to do that—what if the police themselves became violent, or what if there was a mob of people there, ready to commit violent acts against her family.

The pickup slammed right through the flimsy metal gate, knocking it down.

“Here we go!” shouted James. He sounded more excited than worried.

Georgia felt a thrill run through her as they made it halfway across the bridge.

“We’re going to die!” shouted Sadie. “Shit, shit, shit.”

Georgia didn’t say anything. She just kept her foot pressed firmly on the accelerator. The engine roared. The tachometer was at the red line.

The bridge creaked audibly beneath them. The wood was shifting. Some part of the wooden structure was twisting. She could feel it beneath the truck.

But they made it across.

Georgia let out a whoop when the truck rushed onto solid land.

“Don’t look back,” she said.

But Sadie did anyway.

“It’s completely twisted!”

The truck was moving too fast. Georgia had to turn the wheel sharply to avoid running into a tree. They narrowly missed it.

“Mom!” shouted Sadie.

“It’s fine,” said Georgia, as she regained control of the sliding and speeding truck.

They were now barreling down Solomon Street. It was tree lined, and there were plenty of houses.

“Damn, look at those,” said James, in awe of the enormous houses.

“That’s where Josh lives,” said Sadie, pointing to one.

The lights were all off, and the buildings could only be seen by the faint diffuse glow coming off the penetrating high beams of the truck.

“I guess the generators aren’t working,” said Georgia. “Or maybe they don’t have any.”

They didn’t pass any cars as they continued west.

“It won’t take us that long to get there,” said Georgia. “If we drive all night, I bet we can be there by morning. If we don’t run into any trouble, that is.”

“So do you think they’ll be like bandits out?” said James. “You know, roving bands of guys, like in the movies. Armed to the teeth and all that?”

“Shut up, James,” said Sadie. “You’re an idiot.”

“What?” said James. “I know what I’m talking about. I’ve studied up.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call watching a bunch of violent movies studying up on what happens when the power goes out.”

“It’s not just the power, idiot, remember?”

“Kids!” shouted Georgia. “Quiet! No more arguing, OK?”

They agreed demurely.

“And I don’t think we’ll be running into any armed bandits,” said Georgia. “The situation may be dire, but in those movies that takes quite a while to happen, right, James?”

“I guess so,” said James.

“They’re just movies!” said Sadie, frustrated. “They’re not real. Both of you need to calm down.”

“Well, Sadie, your brother does have a point. You saw how Mr. McKinney was acting…”

Neither one responded. They were probably tired of Georgia’s constant refrain at this point.

Georgia continued to drive through the night. Sadie fell asleep and James’s snores eventually came up to the front of the cabin of the truck.

Georgia felt wired and awake. She’d occasionally worked late shifts and night shifts, and she knew how to keep herself alert. She didn’t need coffee or caffeine, she just needed to have her mind fixed on something, on a goal. Right now, her goal was getting herself and her kids to safety. The farther they were from whatever it was that was going on, the better.

Georgia picked up Sadie’s smartphone from the cup holder. She held it idly in her hand as she drove and wondered if it would ever work again. It wasn’t the smartphone itself that was important, but what it represented.

Georgia wondered if this was happening all over the world. If global communications were done completely, it could send the world back to the dark ages.

Yeah, she thought, the farther away the better.

Georgia knew the route well, and she hoped they’d be there by morning. She didn’t need maps or a GPS device. She drove intuitively, as she’d already done many times before in her life.

She still had the pistol she’d taken from the McKinneys tucked in her waistband. Of course, she’d made sure the safety was on. Now that it was there, it felt like a comforting weight. She liked the feel of it there. She wondered how she’d gone this long without getting a concealed carry license.

Georgia kept her eye on the gas gauge. Unfortunately, it had been a little while since she’d filled up the tank. The gauge registered half full. That might be enough to make it there, considering that she could coast down some of the hills to save gas. But sometimes the gauge on this old truck could be inaccurate, registering the tank fuller than it actually was.

It was a good thing she’d taken that gas from the McKinneys.

They’d driven for hours now. It was 4 o’clock in the morning, and the area was deserted. They were out towards central Pennsylvania, where the houses and towns were scarcer than in the suburbs. The ones they’d passed had been completely dark, with no one out. They hadn’t passed a single car yet on the roads. That wasn’t that unusual though, considering they were on back roads, the less-traveled ones, the ones that Georgia had always preferred. If it hadn’t been for her kids needing to go to a good school system, Georgia imagined she might have liked to live out west somewhere, where there weren’t so many people, where you could be more free.

When she was sure there was nothing around them but the forest, Georgia slowed to a stop, pulling off to the side of the road.