Ray Gorham - 77 Days in September

Carol shook her head. “I don’t think so, Jennifer. From what I hear, our little community is doing pretty good.”

Jennifer looked at Carol quizzically. “What do you mean?”

“I was talking to Craig after the meeting. Earlier this week he rode his horse to Missoula to visit a brother. Said things are pretty bad there. Apparently, at first people just looted from stores and suffered along with what food they had. But after a week or so they realized that nobody would be stepping in to fix things any time soon, and the new furniture and the nice TVs they’d taken weren’t going to keep them alive. That’s when people started getting desperate, forming gangs and stuff. Craig said his brother’s scared and is going to bring his family out here as soon as he can get their things together, hopefully before it gets too much worse.”

“How bad is he talking?” asked Jennifer.

“Well, he didn’t have a chance to say a lot because I wanted to catch up to you, but it sounds scary. People getting shot for food, suicides, lots of people dying, and no morgues or cemeteries operating. There isn’t really any kind of functioning police force, even there: it sounds like borderline anarchy.”

“Guess I shouldn’t complain, should I?”

“All it means is we’ve got to deal with our own problems, not that we don’t have any. No one is going to come out here and save us. Just be glad we don’t live in New York or Los Angeles or some other big city. I can’t imagine the desperation in those places right now.”

Jennifer shuddered. “Looks like I’m going to have to deal with this on my own. I wish he would just lose interest. Maybe if I shaved my head and let him see my hairy legs it would turn him off.”

Carol laughed out loud and patted Jennifer’s hand. “We’ll figure something out,” she said. “Try not to let it get you too down.”

Thursday, October 6 th

South of Cheyenne, Wyoming

Day 34

Cheyenne lies a few miles ahead of me. I would pass through today, but I’d rather not go through in the daylight. Going through cities at night, even with the darkness, scares me less than facing the people in the daytime. It’s a helpless feeling, knowing that if I run into trouble, I’m on my own. I carry a handgun in my belt, but that doesn’t provide much comfort. In the past when I saw a policeman, it always made me a little nervous. Now a real-life cop would be a welcome sight. I‘ve met a couple of sheriffs in some small towns. They were on foot and were nice enough, but pretty interested in me passing through in a hurry.

I’m in Wyoming, and it’s exciting to think I’m in a state neighboring my own. Seems kind of juvenile, but does help keep the motivation up. I’m over halfway home and close to being on schedule. The weather has been great. I’m not sure how long my luck will hold out, but I think I’ll be home before winter. Emma, you’d enjoy the colors in the mountains. I know how you like fall and the way the leaves change. I’m seeing a lot of red and gold, and it’s been really pretty, just wish it didn’t mean that cold weather’s on the way.

I love you all.

Tuesday, October 11 th

Central Wyoming

The muscles in Kyle’s legs burned as he trudged towards the top of the hill. The gradual rises and dips of the western prairie had given way, over the past week and a half, to the steeper slopes of the foothills, and he was feeling it. Reaching a level area near the top of the hill, Kyle braced his cart and dropped to the ground in the shelter of a maroon suburban that had been carefully pulled off to the side of the road. It provided a good break from the chilling wind that whistled in from the west as well as a place where Kyle could sit and catch his breath.

Once rested, Kyle stood up and walked the remaining distance to the top of the hill. It was only a few hundred feet further along, and walking without the cart was easy and felt good. At the crest of the hill, he surveyed the surrounding area. To the north, the highway trailed off in the distance, rolling over and around and behind the hills that stood in his way. To the east, the foothills gave way to the rolling, brown expanse of the prairies. South of where he stood, Kyle assessed the miles of road he’d covered that day, road that had been difficult and had slowed his progress considerably. Cheyenne had disappeared from view early yesterday morning and was now miles behind him, another city he could cross off his well-worn map.

To the west, the mountains rose in a growing crescendo, reaching their climax with the rocky, snow-clad peaks far off in the distance. He studied the scene, trying to put to rest his nagging doubts about the route he had taken. He had chosen to take the interstate from Fort Collins to Casper instead of the shorter looking route through Laramie, hoping that the roads to the east would be less hilly and easier to cover. Having strained over numerous hills since making that decision, however, Kyle wondered if his choice had been the right one.

Still second-guessing himself, Kyle returned to his cart, pointed it north, and took up his journey.

Houses in this part of Wyoming seemed further and further apart. Sometimes he walked for hours without seeing a house, giving him a sense of complete isolation. Only the interstate, littered every few hundred yards with abandoned vehicles, kept him from feeling as if he had been dropped in the middle of another planet.

As dusk descended, Kyle picked out a semi a mile ahead for his evening lodging and, with a goal in sight, picked up his pace. Twenty minutes later he was sheltering his cart under the trailer. Finding the side window broken and the truck’s door unlocked, Kyle called out and knocked on the window, then climbed inside when he was sure the cab was empty. In the fading light, he set up a bed in the back, then returned to the front seat to watch the final few minutes of sunset and the nightly unveiling of the stars. He’d come to appreciate sunsets on his journey, both for their beauty and as a confirmation that he had survived another day, and each day survived meant he was another day closer to home.

The last of the daylight seeped slowly from the sky and revealed another dazzling display of stars, more vivid at the higher elevation and in the blackness of the night than anything he’d ever seen in his life. As he watched the constellations appear, Kyle noticed a cabin a couple miles up a hill, partially concealed by trees, but with light coming from its windows. Something about it seemed strange. He focused on the cabin and saw a light flip on in an upstairs window, and then a few seconds later it flipped off. He swallowed hard, not believing what he was seeing, and strained to see more details of the house, picking out another light on a post in the yard.

Kyle hadn’t seen electric lights since coming across a few houses running off generators weeks ago. He scanned the horizon to see if other homes were lit up as well, but the surrounding hills blocked his view and shrouded him in darkness, other than that one glowing point of light.

He climbed out of the truck, his eyes focused on the lights in the distance. Leaving his cart behind, he buttoned his thin jacket to keep out the chill and hurried towards the cabin. A small lane a quarter mile from the truck led from the frontage road towards the home, and Kyle followed it in the darkness, the light drawing him in like a moth. He tried to temper his hope, but his mind raced through all the possible explanations. He hadn’t heard a radio broadcast or spoken to anyone about anything important for weeks. Were things getting fixed faster than expected? Maybe the EMP hadn’t done as much damage or affected things this far north. If the mountains of Wyoming had power, then surely other cities would too. Jennifer and the kids might be safe. With electricity, it wouldn’t be long before cars and planes could be made operable again. If that was the case, he wouldn’t need his cart and could abandon it, and then he’d be able to get to Casper much faster, maybe in a day or two. From Casper, a bus or a plane could have him safely home in a matter of days.