It's unlikely you would have been near Elliot Road that night. All the homes near that stretch of land have been abandoned since the bombs, and in the years since, Carroll itself has become a sort of a ghost town. The people who didn't flee to bigger townships in search of relatives in those early days were scared off by looters and Hudson River outbreaks. By the time one regiment of A.S.A soldiers passed through after the start of the Civil War, it was practically deserted.
Perhaps this is why the two people were slowing down as they passed through this field. They had walked through Carroll's small main street as the sun was beginning to set. They hadn't seen another living person all day. They had walked until the night was completely upon them, wanting to get as close to their destination as they could before conceding that the day was over. Had you survived the trials and tribulations befalling Carroll after the September attacks, and had you found yourself standing on the edge of Elliot Road, you would have seen the figures, the man and the woman, slow their steps and heave their packs onto the ground near a pile of charred wood. If you had exceptional hearing, you might have caught the exchange of words between them.
“This is the best we're going to find. May as while rest while we can.”
“Think there's anyone around?”
“Probably not. Should be okay this time.”
“Do you want the first shift or the second?”
“You take the first. I mean, you sleep first. I'll take the shift.”
“Jake-”
The man was arranging a blanket on the ground the best he could. He glanced at his travel companion. “What?”
“Don't you think you should get some sleep? After what happened last night?”
He shook his head with an air of indifference. “No big deal. I'm fine. You go first.” He looked up. She was still staring at him, her eyebrows raised. He reached up and grabbed her hand, gently pulling her towards him. “Heather, it'll be fine. I want you to get some sleep. Then you'll get your turn.”
She reluctantly sank down onto the blanket beside him. He reached out his arms, and she inched herself over so that she was leaning against him, her head against his shoulder.
“Goodnight,” he whispered, kissing her on the temple.
“Goodnight,” she whispered back, her eyes closed.
He breathed in a deep sigh, gazing up at the cloudy night. There were no stars to see. Nothing to distract him from the thoughts running through his head. Nothing except her breathing, her weight against his tired body. He felt his muscles struggling to hold himself, the both of them, up, but was determined to hold on, at least until she fell asleep.
He sat for what seemed like a very long time, listening in the quiet and keeping his eyes on the empty horizon. Last night hadn't been very pleasant, being shaken awake and forced to run for his life from a landowner in hot pursuit, but it had been a change from the other nights at least. He had lost track of how many nights it had been now that they had fallen asleep this way, though he was sure he could figure it out in the morning, when his mind wasn't worn out by the day's journey and buzzing from the lack of food. It had surely been only weeks, but he couldn't think of the number. These silent nights were the hardest, and though she was one of the main worries on his mind, he couldn't help but feel glad she was there, so close beside him.
He listened; her breathing hadn't become the steady rhythm he was accustomed to hearing. “Heather?” he whispered.
She was quiet, but he knew she had heard him. “You're awake, aren't you?”
She opened one eye. “Kind of.”
He rolled his eyes. “Isn't this supposed to work with one of us sleeping and the other worrying?”
She pulled her head away so that she could give him a wide-eyed grimace. “I can't help it. And you're one to talk.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “I can't sleep until I know you've gotten a good amount.”
“Why don't you try now? I can't sleep,” she said.
“Well, I can't,” he protested.
She gave a chuckle. “So neither of us is taking this shift, apparently.”
“Apparently,” he said with a hint of a grin.
She shook her head, leaning back on her elbows and looking up at the sky. “No stars,” she said quietly.
He leaned back too, in silence.
“What do you think they're doing at home?” she asked.
He thought for a moment before answering. “Well, I guess they're sleeping. I hope they are. Someone should be.” He nudged her side. “Actually, if the kids are at home with Mom, I hope they're sleeping. If they're staying over at Eric and Mary's I hope they're up bugging them.”
She made a scandalized expression, followed by a giggle. He shrugged his shoulders. “Hey, it would just be karma, after what happened last time we looked after Johnny. You didn't forget the vomit incident, did you?”
“Jake.” It was taking all her energy to put on the scolding tone and swat him.
“They're fine, Heather,” he said. “Probably happy to get away from us. I used to get away with murder when Mom and Dad left us with a baby-sitter.” Noticing his joking wasn't having its desired effect, he tried a little harder. “Come on. Last time I left Fiona with the Richmonds, I had to drag her home kicking and screaming. I bet she's visiting them every other day. She's probably having a great time running around the farm with Stanley and the kids. Playing at Bailey's, bossing the boys around. And I bet she's driving Mary nuts, with that song-”
“Three Little Birds.” She smiled.
“Yeah. They're fine,” he reaffirmed, for himself as much as for her. “Besides, when we get home, we'll have some great stories to tell them.”
“You think we can tell them about this?” she asked incredulously. “How their parents walked for weeks with only an army blanket and the clothes they were wearing when the truck ran off the road?”
He rolled his head to the side. “I was thinking I'd tell them the story of how their mom convinced the Cheyenne army to let her go, so she could get to Nebraska and say goodbye to her dying sister.”
“You can not tell them about that,” she said firmly, but with a hint of amusement.
“Really? It's a great story. Don't you think they'd love to hear that the soldiers felt so bad for you they gave you food and an extra blanket for the trip?”
“Jake, I don't want the kids to know that we almost got taken in for questioning.”
“But they'd be so proud if they heard how you stood up to those soldiers-”
“I'm sure I looked really brave standing there crying.”
“You did what you had to. And it worked. It was amazing.” He grinned.
“I know that,” she said, giving him a glare. “I'm still remembering seeing you in a Cheyenne truck, looking out the window at me. Don't push it.”
“Fine,” he said with a sardonic smile. “We won't tell that story.”
“Not this time anyway,” she said, smiling a little herself. “Maybe when they're older.”
“When we're done with all this?” he asked. He didn't need to explain, because she nodded.
“I don't want Fiona thinking about A.S.A. checkpoints. Or road gangs,” she said.
“Don't you think it's a little late for that?” he asked. She raised a eyebrow. “She's heard about me. That first year after the bombs. That time I went hunting with Stanley and Mimi.”
She nodded again, biting her lip. “Yeah, she knows that story. Doesn't it usually end with Mimi wandering around in the dark wishing she'd never heard of Jericho?”
“Well, that's what happened.”
“I'm sure it wasn't as funny as you and Stanley make it sound.”
“No, it was pretty painful. I don't know what was worse- waking up with my leg stuck under the truck, or Mimi yelling in my face. Telling me to get up and save Stanley.”
She smiled weakly. “Even though you were under the truck?”
He nodded. “Yeah. I don't think she even noticed what happened to me. Just Stanley. True love, I guess.” He sighed.
She made a teasing face. “And you were the third wheel. Under the wheel.”
He made a face himself as she nudged him. “You know, I want to say how much better it was to have you waking me up this time, but I can't really say that. I was more afraid you'd gotten hurt when we hit that tree. But I always have all the luck, don't I?” He rubbed his sore ankle.
“Well, is it selfish of me to say I was glad to have you?” she asked softly.
He didn't answer. Her voice had taken on the tone it did when she was lost in thought.
“Last time I met up with highway robbers, I was all alone.” She stretched out her legs on the blanket, and he thought that might be the end of her story, but she spoke again. “You know, after New Bern?”
He nodded silently. He knew, vaguely, of the event to which she was referring. He stretched his legs out, keeping still as he always did when she decided to talk about the memories she only examined in these quiet moments.
“I barely remember the crash itself. I don't know if I was awake when they came. I remember being pulled out of the car, being on the ground, freezing.”
He felt his own skin raising with goosebumps in the night. “They stole my coat. And Stanley's. Off our backs,” he offered.
She smiled faintly. “I didn't have a coat. We didn't have anything to steal. We had to leave so fast- before they could pack.”
He put his hand near hers on the blanket. He waited for the details, as he always did. She would sort them out eventually.
“I bruised a rib. Had a lot of cuts and bruises later, at the army camp. I don't remember feeling anything except cold. I remember, when they were gone, everything was just quiet. I tried to move, see what happened to Vanessa and Steve, but I couldn't get up. I turned my head as far as I could, but no one was moving.”
She pulled closer to him, saying nothing else for a few moments. He finally asked, “Who were Vanessa and Steve?”
She raised her eyebrows. “I never told you about Vanessa? I'm sure I did.”
He shook his head.
“They were the ones I went with...when I got out of New Bern.”
He just looked at her blankly.
“I must have told you. The people in the car.”
“You told me how you got away from the deputies. Not about the people in the car.”
“Oh,” she said. She folded her hands across her stomach.
They sat, looking at the starless sky. Finally, he turned to look at her. “Well, are you going to tell me?”
She turned her head to him. “You don't really want to hear about that, do you? Haven't I been talking too much about the crappy old days tonight? This isn't going to help us sleep. At least, it won't lighten the mood.”
“Come on, I want to hear about the people who drove your New Bern getaway car. I kind of think I owe them.” He fluttered his eyes at her, and he could see she was fighting to keep the serious look on her face.
“Well, I do.” She was quickly solemn again. “I can't believe I never told you about Vanessa, in all that.”
“You normally keep your New Bern story quick. To avoid getting me 'all worked up',” he teased.
She let out an exasperated sigh. “Someone's got to think about keeping the peace between us and New Bern. Going over gory details of the past isn't going to do it. But anyway, Vanessa and Steve. They were the last people I ever expected to be with in my dying moments. But I guess that's the weird way life goes, huh?”
She didn't look over at him; she could tell he was nodding as she continued.
“I went to grade school with Vanessa Riley. She came to some of my birthday parties, and I went to some of hers, back when we invited the whole class. We went to the same high school too, but I don't really remember talking to her. We had different groups of friends. Vanessa was...well, you know the kind of person in high school who runs for student government and at the campaign assembly, all they have to do is wave and laugh and everyone votes for them?”
He nodded, an amused smile forming on his face.
“She was the social planner. And on the athletic council, yearbook, and prom committee.”
“And you were learning to strip wires with Ted,” he finished for her.
“Yeah. Not a lot in common,” she said with an apologetic smile. “It's not like I didn't like her, I just didn't know her. Sort of forgot about her after high school. Even when I went to New Bern, to work on the windmills, I don't really remember seeing her much. Those days...people kept to themselves. Everything changed so much after the bombs. People I'd run into- they didn't want to hear about Jericho, or anything else I'd seen. It was like people didn't even want to make too much noise in the streets. The things you could get arrested for...” She shivered, but continued.
“After Constantino was done with me, he sent me out to the warehouse. There was this cell there, full of people. Vanessa was there. I hardly recognized her. She knew me, though. Everyone was talking about something happening at the factory, and there were rumours I knew about it. No one would come near me, except Vanessa. She just came up, sat on the bench beside me, told me all matter-of-fact that she'd wound up there because her husband had let another prisoner go. He was one of the deputies. Steve. He'd joined the sheriff's department just the year before the bombs, and I guess he didn't adapt too well to the policy changes Constantino implemented. He'd helped one of his neighbours escape when he got sick. Constantino was mad, but he didn't want to lose one of his best deputies, so he sent Vanessa to the warehouse instead. With everything I heard there, it was a good way to scare people. Not knowing if their family members would still be there when they got on Constantino's good side again. Vanessa said no one knew exactly where they took the prisoners they'd load into trucks, but everyone had ideas.”
He cringed. She'd spoken of the warehouse two times before. It had been hard to sit through, and was one of the reasons she didn't like to talk about it with him. It usually left him wanting to get his gun and drive over to New Bern.
“I guess Constantino thought being there would scare me. He came back once. Tried to talk to me. I didn't say anything. So he left.”
Jake knew there was more to the story, but as always, waited to hear what she would say next.
“Steve didn't work shifts at the warehouse- obviously, his wife was there. I guess we got lucky that day. One of the other deputies came in with him, told me to get up. We went out back. That's where they...” She trailed off, but he knew what that place was for.
A slight waver in her voice, she continued until she was speaking steadily. “Steve- I didn't even know him, just that Vanessa said he was her husband. He said to kneel. The other deputy pushed me down. Then they fought. Steve knocked him out, I think. Then he said to get down and hide. There was a pile of scrap metal, so I hid. He went back in, and came back out with Vanessa a few minutes later. I don't know what he told them. He said in the car that Constantino made him a deal: if he killed me, he could get Vanessa out, but I know they wouldn't just let her out without proof.” Her eyes widened at the prospect she was describing, but she shook her head, as if to dispel that thought for now.
“I guess we were lucky that day- most of Constantino's men were dealing with the factory, and our guys from Jericho. Steve might have done something to another guard inside, I don't know. He and Vanessa came running out. I just followed them. You know sometimes, when you just have this gut feeling to do something, in the moment?”
He gave an understanding nod.
“We took off in Steve's car. Drove north, made it out of town. Vanessa and I ducked down in the back, and no one at the checkpoint knew yet that Steve had jumped ship. He said he had official business. They just waved him through.” She laughed a little- not her usual laugh. “I don't know how some people get that lucky.”
She stared up at the black sky. “But I guess they weren't really, were they?” That laugh again. He felt chills on his arms. “All that, and what happened to them?”
He could sense her retreating into that place. The same place she sometimes went, that he knew so well himself. “Hey,” he said. “I don't know why it happened the way it did, but you can't think that-”
“I know,” she cut in. She turned to look at him again, with those eyes he loved, and he felt just a little guilty for being glad she had survived the crash that had killed two people he hadn't even met.
“So you drove north with Vanessa and Steve. Then what?”
“We fought. They hadn't really planned a getaway, but they sure as hell didn't want to go near Jericho. Steve knew what was happening with the factory, and the maps. All the deputies did. I had to do something. Eric-” she took a deep breath. “Him, Stanley and the other guys, and Ted. They were all still in New Bern. And you, and everyone else in Jericho. That's all I could think about. I don't know how much I begged Steve to turn the car. I was pretty desperate. He probably felt sorry he saved me.”
“And Vanessa?”
“She'd seen how things were in New Bern. I wasn't the first person they tried to execute without a trial, and she wasn't going back to the warehouse. I think she felt bad, but they both wanted to get as far away from both towns as they could.”
She paused, remembering the crying and pleading she'd done, the number of times she'd demanded to be let out of the car, knowing she couldn't actually do it alone. Her only chance was to stay in the car, and her companions had known it.
“We drove into the night. Vanessa changed seats with me, so she could sleep in the back. She'd been in the warehouse for two weeks. I think I started to fall asleep in the front. It must have still been night when the road gang attacked. I really don't remember much. Just lying on the road, feeling cold. And the quiet. Knowing they were gone. I was the only one left. And it felt like forever. For a while, I wondered why it was taking so long to die. I was tired, and cold, and could barely feel anything. I just kept thinking about everyone in Jericho, and what was happening to Eric and Stanley and Ted in New Bern, and how could I still be alive? But it just went on and on.”
Her eyes had taken on a gleam and he reached for her shoulder, gripping it gently in his hand. She laughed, trying to hold back the tears. “It's crazy. That time, I just waited to die, and this time, everything was so fast and I just kept thinking 'I can't die now'.”
“I know the feeling, Babe,” he said, offering her a smile of his own.
She quickly brushed a stray tear off of her face. “It's so stupid. I mean, we're fine. We've been in a lot worse places than this before, right?”
He nodded. “Yeah, this is more like a vacation.”
“I don't know if I'd go that far,” she said, chuckling and wiping furiously at her face.
He brushed back a piece of her hair, reaching his arm around her shoulders again. “Really? It's you and me, under this beautiful night sky, no kids, no mothers, no Eric, no students or radios or patrols, and we faced the A.S.A. and tried a story on them that worked a lot better than the time I tried to pass myself off as a journalist.”
“Well, it wasn't much of a contest,” she pointed out.
“Ouch,” he said. “That's why I have you. We make a much more convincing road trip party than I do on my own. They get all suspicious when I try to get through the checkpoints, but with you...that one guy had a thing for you, I swear. I just hope he doesn't try to send flowers for your dearly departed sister.”
“He might have some trouble finding an address for Mary Stanley of Hamburg, Nebraska.” She giggled.
“There you go. There's your funny story to tell everyone when we get home. You always need a few of those when you get back from a vacation.”
She grinned, leaning back on her elbows so that they were shoulder-to-shoulder. “How do you do it, Jake?”
“What?”
“Look at something like this the way you do?”
He shrugged. “You're the one who makes us have a corn festival when everyone's sick of eating the stuff.” He scoffed at her raised eyebrows. “What are you giving me that look for? I'm saying you're the one who looks on the bright side of things.”
“You find a way to see us losing our truck to thieves and almost getting detained at an A.S.A. checkpoint as funny. Sort of funny. More than I can.”
“Well, it's because you're here. If I was out here myself, I'd be sitting up all night, thinking about how screwed I am. Really.” He couldn't tell her how glad he was that she had come this time. That would sound too selfish to say out loud. “I know I tried to convince you not to come, and to listen to Hawkins-”
She laughed, and he pretended to be astonished. “What?”
“Hawkins knows you needed me.”
“I know, but he knows how it is, when you have a family. He didn't want you to go either.” He stopped before the argument started again. It had been too many weeks to revisit that.
“Well, I'm glad I came, if you think it's because of me the soldiers let us through. I wouldn't want you to be detained, or in Wyoming now. You know I like to have you around.” She tapped her hand on his cheek. Smiling, but quickly stopping herself, she looked away again. “I think it's easier to be out here, walking every day, then waiting around at home, wondering if you were still alive. I just wish we could call them, let them know we're okay. That we're almost in Kansas. I wish there was some way.” She let out a deep sigh.
“I wrote you a letter once,” he said. “When I got stuck in Colorado. First time I left you alone with Fiona. I was staying in this run-down motel, and I wrote you a letter on a piece of paper I ripped out of a book. One of the blank pages before the one with the publisher. I knew I could never send it to you, but I wrote it anyway. I threw it out when I got home.”
“What did it say?” she asked.
“I don't remember,” he said, not meeting her eyes. “No, I really don't.”
“Alright, Jake,” she said, with a not-so-subtle hint of disbelief.
“It was seriously bad. Too embarrassing.”
“Okay,” she said, giggling. At the stricken look on his face, she buried hers in his shoulder, still giggling.
“See, I didn't even tell you what it said and I get this,” he said, with an air of someone who is always being put-upon.
“No, it's a good idea,” she said through her laughter. “I'd do it now, if I had paper.”
“Too bad, all the paper we had is sitting in some road gangs's outhouse right now,” he said, watching her with amusement. “Okay, what would you write in your letter?”
“Not telling you,” she said. She groaned at the wide eyes he turned on her. “What? You didn't tell me yours.”
“You're a better writer.”
“Do you have me confused with someone else?” She rolled her eyes, but finally, said, “Fine, but only because there's no paper.” She leaned back, looking up at the sky and avoiding his gaze.
“Dear Fiona and Andrew. I'm writing to you from a very beautiful field in Oklahoma. Daddy and I are okay, but we really miss you. We had to do something important in Oklahoma, for an old friend, and we were supposed to be home in a few days, but we had a bit of a problem getting back. Nothing we couldn't handle, but it's taking a lot longer than we thought it would.”
Jake grinned at her, half expecting her to glance self-consciously over her shoulder at him, but she didn't. She ignored him completely as she continued. “I miss seeing you in the morning, and playing games and listening to you talk about your day, but I know you're helping Grandma and Uncle Eric and Aunt Mary. And Uncle Stanley and Aunt Mimi too, if they let you play at their house. I know it must be weird, that we've been gone so long, and I'm sorry that we're not there.”
She glanced at him now, a serious expression on her face. He nodded. She turned her face to the sky again. “It's hard to explain, but I want you guys to have the best world you possibly can. Fiona, I want you to see the ocean when you get bigger, and Andrew, maybe one day you can fly in a real plane and ride in a real train. I want you to go places you want to go, and learn about things I haven't even heard of. This place we live- it won't ever be perfect, but I want to make it the best it can be for you. I know it doesn't seem fair, but I hope you can hang in there, because we're doing everything we can to come home.”
“Add that 'Daddy says be good for Grandma and Aunt Mary, and loves them,” he said.
“And be good for Grandma- and Uncle Eric- and Aunt Mary, and Daddy loves you,” she said. “And I love you. And we'll be home soon,”
She leaned her head on his chest. “I thought I'd be optimistic,” she said.
“See. You're a good writer,” he whispered.
She laughed softly. “Well, I'm glad you think so. I realized as I was making it up that your mom would have to read it to them. Unless Fiona's learned to read while we were away,” She made an expression of mock panic.
“I doubt it, Babe,” he said. “But Andrew might have started using the potty.”
“Wouldn't that be a miracle?” She laughed again, but he was quiet. She could hear his heart beating, and each breath he inhaled and exhaled.
“I really hope they understand one day. What it must be like for them, how we tell them all the time about these great people that did these brave things, all to make their world better. Grandpas, and aunts, and friends. Yet none of these people are around.” She watched the darkness ahead, imagining where the clouds met as they blocked out the stars. “I just don't know how some of us get to be so lucky.” She usually didn't question it anymore. It could keep her awake for days. She was remembering again, those people driving the getaway car, gone before she could figure out what had woken her. How much this night differed, her head rising and falling with Jake's chest, the letters composing themselves in her head.
“Jake?” she whispered.
There was no answer.
She raised her head to peer at his face in the darkness. His eyes were closed, his mouth peaceful.
Smiling to herself, she sat up, crossing her legs on the blanket. She smoothed a strand of hair from his forehead and looked ahead at the empty horizon. She would take the first shift after all tonight.