Ray Gorham - 77 Days in September

The man’s eyes widened, and he looked at his wife. “No,” he said, “but we could help a little if you want. We’re heading to family in Hobbs and could save you a few miles.”

Kyle had eagerly accepted their offer, and the three of them loaded the cart in the back of the truck. There were no ropes to secure the cart, and three small children were wedged on a narrow bench behind the driver, so Kyle had sat in the back, perched on top of a box and clinging to his cart like a mother holding a newborn. The miles had sped by without incident, and within two hours they had arrived in Lamesa, where Kyle’s cart was unloaded and they parted ways, with Kyle thanking the couple profusely for saving him three days of walking.

From Lamesa, Kyle had continued towards Lubbock, thrilled to already be so far ahead of schedule, and only stopping at night once it got too dark to continue walking. Camp that night had been set up on the shoulder of the road. Friday he had been on the go again at dawn, anxious to stay ahead of schedule, but before he could get very far in the day’s journey, aching muscles and joints had conspired to slow his progress. This setback surprised him since he was in relatively good shape, having hiked dozens of miles in the mountains around Missoula every summer. But none of that was preparation for the punishment he was currently inflicting on his body.

A little after noon, Kyle found a shaded area by a small creek, ate lunch, and managed to get in two good hours of sleep. When he awoke he wet himself in the creek, refilled his water bottles, and continued on his way, walking for only three hours before stopping for the day.

Saturday, blistered, sore, and tired, Kyle only managed to pull a couple of hours before once again stopping for the day to give his body a break. By Sunday morning, nine days after he had expected to fly home, he was approaching Lubbock, two days ahead of schedule on his new timeline. Despite the aches, the satisfaction of making good time helped keep him going, and he noted with pleasure as the numbers on the mile markers slowly count up.

Over the past four days he had met others who were in a similar predicament, although he had yet to meet anyone with as far to travel as he did. In these limited interactions, it was apparent that people were scared, struggling, and lacking the resources to cope. The few reports he’d heard about the federal broadcasts had a similar theme, with no hope of immediate assistance being offered beyond limited, government, food stockpiles that they were unable to deliver and a few emergency air shipments of food that were more symbolic than useful. The man who had given that information to Kyle had agreed that three hundred million people weren’t going to be helped much by the arrival of a handful of cargo planes full of food.

As Kyle approached Lubbock, a haze hung over the city that made his eyes water and his lungs burn. He could see evidence of fires in multiple locations, but he trudged warily onward, worried about the danger of the city. Residents eyed Kyle suspiciously, rarely waving or offering words of encouragement like he’d experienced in the small towns when he’d first begun his journey. Part of it was probably because the homes here were set further back off of the highway, but there was still a different feeling, a sense of wariness and fear that he hadn’t felt in the towns he’d passed through earlier.

Kyle waved at a man sitting on the back steps of a house and shouted “Good morning!” to him. The man sat quietly, eyes locked on Kyle, then, after much deliberation, responded with a slight dip of the head and disappeared into his home.

From the position of the sun, Kyle estimated that it was just before noon, and he stopped briefly to eat a power bar and take a drink. The water was warm, but it quenched his parched throat and helped lessen the hunger pangs. It had been six days since he’d had an official meal, and a drink with ice was well over a week removed. He thought about some of the things he missed, simple things he’d taken for granted his entire life — cold drinks, hot food, mattresses, air conditioning, showers, cars, clean clothes, a phone call. Until a week ago, he’d never given those things much thought. Now they were unattainable luxuries that crossed his mind incessantly.

Kyle capped the water and stowed the jug, then resumed pulling. As he walked, his thoughts once again drifted to his family. What is Jennifer doing? How are they getting along? Are they safe? Hungry? Scared? Worried? These were the same questions he asked every day, and he still didn’t have any answers. He tried to reassure himself that Jennifer was strong and that she could handle it, but it hurt beyond description to not be with her and the kids.

As Kyle pulled his cart into Lubbock, gloom hung in the air like the smoke that blanketed the city, creating a feeling that enveloped him and made his cart feel heavy and his legs weak. The further into the city he ventured, the thicker the smoke became and the stronger the uneasy feeling grew.

At the top of an overpass, Kyle was close enough to watch a fire burning through a neighborhood. The homes were close together, and the fire was spreading from one home to another. Kyle stopped and watched as people on the roofs of the homes nearest the fire, with shirts pulled over their faces and armed only with blankets, tried to stop the flames from spreading. Cinders from the burning houses dropped onto the roofs of neighboring homes, and panicked homeowners rushed forward to beat at the flames, then retreated, driven back by the heat.

Kyle was drawn in by the drama and wanted to help, but knew there was nothing he could offer beyond what was already there. The scene was pitiful, no fire trucks or even garden hoses to fight the fire with, just people, blankets and sweat. He shook his head in sympathy as he picked up the handle of his cart and continued on his way.

Deer Creek, Montana

Jennifer was attempting to take notes, but with all of the arguments, the meeting was going nowhere. It was easy to understand why Gabe was reluctant to bring too much up for discussion. Education and food had already run their course. Now the subject was generators. Of the just over one hundred homes in their community, so far only six generators had been identified. Everyone assumed that there were more, but they knew of just the six.

“We just need to confiscate them!” a woman shouted from the back of the room as the argument raged. “I need water, and I bet most of you do, too.” A couple of people voiced their agreement.

Gabe raised his hands, trying to regain order. “Folks, I know we need them, but we can’t just take them.”

“Why not?” yelled a man. Jennifer recognized him as the attorney who had wanted to be the council chairman. “It’s for the good of the community.”

“I know that, sir, but that doesn’t give us license to do it.” Gabe looked around, trying to garner support. “We have no authority to do something like that, nor do I have the desire.”

“There are more of us than there are of them. What more authority do we need?”

Chuck, who was attending his first meeting and was obviously exasperated with the proceedings, rose from his chair near the front of the room. “Folks,” he began, “my name is Charles Anderson, and I’m new to these meetings, but I need to say something. I know this is a frightening time, and we’ve all got our own worries, but there are some things that we just can’t do. I put my life on the line in Vietnam to fight for liberty, and that’s what America stands for.” He looked around the room, his expression serious but warm. “I know we’re just one small group, but if we start taking things from other people just because we want them or need them, then we’re giving up on those principles that made this country great. We’ll be just like the people I fought against. What’s right isn’t decided with a vote. It’s what we all know in our hearts, and taking something from someone else isn’t right if you ask me.” He paused and looked around the room. “We’re not Hitler’s brownshirts; I’m sure we can figure out something better than force. That’s all I have to say.” Chuck smiled politely and sat down.