Joshua Gayou - Commune - Book One

“Thank you, Billy. Thank you for everything.” They shook hands.

Further out from Billy and Otis, Ben and Lizzy were having a goodbye of their own. I saw Ben reach into his pocket and pull out the deck of cards. He handed them to Elizabeth and then hugged her.

I wiped my eyes and looked back over in Jake’s direction. Robert’s posture had changed now. His hands were down on his hips with his head bowed, nodding sometimes and, at other times, unmoving. Jake had a hand rested on Robert’s left shoulder. Presently, Jake extended his right hand between them and Robert took it. They shook, and Jake lightly slapped him on the shoulder; I saw Robert smile for the first time. They both nodded and began to walk back in our direction. I saw Robert surreptitiously wipe at his eyes as they came. Jake advanced just behind Robert with his hands in his pockets. His face was calm and serene.

It was the last goodbye before we all climbed into our vehicles to go our separate ways, perhaps never to see each other again. We stood in a circle between the Jeep, the Dodge, and the minivan.

“I can’t thank you people enough,” Otis said. “You may have saved us with all you’ve given.”

“Well, the water will definitely help us,” Jake said, “but I think this was good for us despite the water. It’s good to be reminded that not everyone we see is trying to kill us. I think we needed that reminder.”

“We did,” Billy agreed and looked at Jake. “I know I did. I admit it. You were right.”

“There’s another tent city not far from here,” I said. “It’s where I started.” I was surprised at how hard it was for me to say that. I almost had to force the words out—I can remember literally having to brace my stomach muscles to get the air moving. It had been only a few weeks since I was last there, but it might as well have been one hundred years ago, given how I felt now. I thought about who I had become as I stood there looking at Otis; all the time spent moving through unknown areas carrying a rifle that felt more familiar and comfortable every day, that I could operate by touch alone. I recalled back to the firefight in the warehouse; how I shot a man to wound him and expose more vital areas. How I shot him in the head without hesitation. I thought about what I had done to James out of simple vengeance and how, even now, I felt absolutely zero guilt or remorse for it; there were things over which I lost sleep, but James wasn’t one of them. I had changed so much from the woman who came stumbling out of the quarantine tents on the way to Cedar Fort. Elizabeth and I had both changed so much.

Looking at Otis, I saw several things. I saw a good, loving father; a man of warmth, compassion, and good humor. I also saw a man who had yet to make the same evolutionary leaps that I had. He was close, I knew, but there were still lines for him to cross. I realized I had been silently assessing them all from the moment we met. Otis and Robert both were larger and physically stronger than me. Even so, I had little doubt in my mind that I could kill them if the need arose—perhaps not both at the same time; size and strength count for a lot. I knew, however, what my chances were if we went one on one: better than theirs. The fact that I thought about such things unconsciously also did not worry me. It occurred to me that the strange woman I had once been would not be missed.

Presently, I continued my explanation to Otis. “Continue on the 15 north from here, and then take highway 145 toward Cedar Fort just north of the lake. Stay on that road a few miles, and you’ll see the tents spread all across the countryside. There were many soldiers there when I left, National Guard and the like. They had weapons, supplies. There’s probably still MRE crates and medicine out there, ammunition too.”

“Thank you,” Otis said again. He counted off on two fingers, “Barnes and Cedar Fort. We’ll look into that.”

“And keep an eye on your fuel level,” said Billy. “Don’t let it get too far below half a tank before you start looking to top off. You never know when you’re going to run into a big stretch with no viable vehicles to plunder. It used to be easy to judge with Google Maps and such; Thomas Guides don’t offer the same detail.”

Otis nodded to indicate he understood. We all hugged and said goodbye one last time, quietly grateful to each other, I think, that we had all taken a chance. We drove across several lanes of highway to find our way back onto the 15 headed north. Otis drove up the overpass that spanned the freeway in order to pick up the southbound side. I could see Elizabeth in the rearview mirror watching them as they drove away. She stayed that way, watching after them until they were lost from sight.

It took one full day of driving and one last refueling stop to get us to Jackson, Wyoming. It was very clear by this time that Billy was no longer interested in spending any further unnecessary time out on the road. He kept us moving forward like a man possessed, slowing down for only one rest break and advising us to eat on the road.

The drive took longer than it would have once upon a time for all the obvious reasons: we had to take less traveled roads to avoid traffic pile-ups, weaving back and forth between Wyoming and Utah as we advanced North. In some cases we left the road entirely, rolling slowly over unpaved ground for miles at a time to get around the worst snarls. The road became a mountain pass as we hit the National Forest on the way to Jackson, slowing us down even more as we made our way uphill, downhill, and through various switchbacks. The road was treacherous in places as we drove along Snake River, following it for several miles until I began to think it would never end. We carved our way through the center of an immense valley with vast, tree-covered mountains walling us in on either side. For a girl who had grown up in the Utah deserts (or anyone for that matter, I suppose), the view was stunning, and I had to remind myself more than once to concentrate on the road.

I started seeing signs for Jackson as the sun was just beginning its descent in the sky and I estimated three or four hours of daylight left to us. Billy led us off the main road before we encountered the town itself and led us off on a smaller two-lane highway that seemed to cut a line straight toward the mountains a few miles distant. As we came closer, I saw that the road actually swung out to the left and then turned back to the right to weave into a natural valley at the foot of the mountain range, which was all but obscured from view when it was approached at an angle perpendicular to the range itself. We continued on, passing through the entry and driving into the narrow pass before us. On the other side of the pass, mountain walls densely covered in fir trees climbed to either side of us. The distance across the pass was anywhere from fifty yards to half a mile, depending on your position when you measured. It was impossible to tell for how long it ran; it folded back on itself several times, so that forward viewing distance was occluded by overlapping ridgelines.

Not long after our entry, I sensed an upward grade in the road; the engine started working a bit harder, running at a higher RPM. It couldn’t seem to decide if it wanted to stay in its current gear or shift up and I played around with the gas pedal, attempting to force a decision out of the transmission.

Billy turned off on a dirt road about another three miles into the valley, which took us into deeper forested area and advanced our grade of climb a bit more. This leveled off not long after. Without warning, the trees opened up into a wide glen. Directly across from us at great distance, I could just barely make out two buildings peeking out at us from the tree line; the mountain itself appeared to jut straight up into the sky immediately behind them. The entire glen was ringed by trees; a sprawling encircled landscape that looked as though it might have been a lake once upon a time but had naturally run dry long ago. The dirt road ran us right through the center of the clearing and took us directly to the buildings.