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  “Can I ride with you?” she asked. “I have my own supplies.” Her eyes shifted. “Is that a nun driving that bus?”

  “Yep. Sure is,” Judd said. “And …” he looked at Dawson. “Is it okay she come with us? Or do you want her to ride on the bus? Or perhaps you want to leave her behind?”

  “Can’t leave her behind. Jeez, you make me sound bad,” Dawson said. “She can ride with us. Besides the bus is too crowded anyhow.”

  Her eyes widened. “That many people?”

  Dawson grumbled. “If you wanna call them that.”

  “What?” she asked, confused.

  Judd waved out his hand. “I’m sure he’ll tell you all about it in the truck. Come on. Do you need help with your stuff?”

  “No, I’ll get it. It’s just a backpack.” She moved quickly, even with a limp, to her car. She grabbed a backpack and returned.

  “You been alone?” Judd asked. “Seen anyone else?”

  She paused. “No. No one. I’ve been alone.”

  “I’m Judd and this is Dawson.”

  “Nice to meet you. Thank you again. I won’t be a bother.” She held out her hand. “Morgan. My name is Morgan.”

  THIRTY-ONE – COPE

  The pain was intense from his cheekbone to his temple. That was where Ross took the hit. He saw it coming and couldn’t react. Morgan nailed him so hard, he literally saw stars and then nothing.

  He deserved it.

  It didn’t matter what kind of person she was, leaving her behind to die was not the kind of person Ross was.

  He was still on the street, trying to make it through the pain. He lay on the ground in a semi-curled position. He moved his head slightly to press his aching cheek to the damp and cold ground. It felt good. His face was swollen, he could feel the pressure against his eye. Ross moved his hand to feel his face and in doing so, his hand hit something. He widened his fingers to feel.

  It was a foot.

  Ross opened his eyes.

  He was surrounded, all he could see were legs. They encompassed him, dozens of feet were almost pressing on his body.

  In a panic he sat up and took a foot to the chest. He wheezed out and struggled to stand. He believed if he stood he wasn’t at their mercy, he was wrong.

  The second he stood upright, they moved closer.

  He could feel the weight of bodies against him, inching his way, closing in the circle. The air was thick and a feeling of claustrophobia hit him.

  Ross couldn’t move. Not forward, nor back.

  There was no way out.

  This was it for him, the end.

  A serving of Karma for what he had done.

  Ross tried to be brave and figure a way out. He pushed and shoved, but they sprung back with more force. How many were surrounding him? He could barely see over their heads and even then, it was only a sea of people.

  Where did they all come from?

  Every moment that passed, he found it harder to breathe.

  They were literally squeezing the life out of him. He was in a human coffin.

  However, this was his life, not theirs to take.

  If Ross was going to die, he wanted to control when he passed.

  It took everything he had to reach his shoulder harness and pull out his pistol. His range of motion to his arms was short. Keeping the pistol close to his chest, he engaged the weapon while looking at those around him.

  There was a young man in his twenties, an older woman wearing a waitress uniform, a police officer, none of them really looked at him. They stared blankly and through him.

  It wouldn’t be long, Ross knew, before they crushed him completely.

  With a struggling grunt, he put the gun under his chin.

  Painfully he closed his eyes and thought of his wife, his daughters. How badly he missed and loved them and how he would see them soon.

  His finger trembled as he put pressure on the trigger.

  Waitress woman moved against him, and Ross proved once again to himself that he was a coward.

  He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t take his own life.

  Quickly he moved the gun, put it under Waitress woman’s chin and fired.

  Her head flung back from the force of the shot, but she was held up by the mob and didn’t fall.

  She was a standing corpse, balancing on the weight of those around her.

  Ross’ adrenaline pumped, his heart beat out of control. He moved his body so he could aim and fire again.

  Crying out with frustration and the will to live, Ross kept firing until the clip was empty. By then he had created a small opening and he shoved his way through. His arms swung, legs kicked and he forged ahead with the momentum of his body until he broke free. He tripped over someone’s legs and fell to the ground hard.

  Peering over his shoulder, Ross saw them turn, visually targeting him and moved his way.

  He would not be trapped again. He stumbled to a stand, looking back only once.

  The SUV was there, abandoned by the horde and Ross rushed that way. The driver’s door was open and he jumped inside. The keys were in the ignition, in fact the engine was still running. He had never shut it off, only put it in gear.

  He peered in the rear-view mirror and only then was he able to see the magnitude of the amount of those who pursued him. It wasn’t a dozens, it was hundreds. Ross placed the SUV in drive and peeled out.

  Once he was free of the mob, he slowed down enough to look around town.

  He didn’t see any sign of Morgan. After circling around a few blocks, he headed out of town and back to the main road.

  Ross was a plethora of emotions.

  He was guilt ridden over what he had done to Morgan, ashamed of his actions and angry at his weakness. Two times in two days he had the gun under his chin ready to take his own life.

  Truth was, even with his overwhelming loss, he wasn’t ready to die. He didn’t want to die.

  The world had perished around him and he was spared. There had to be meaning to having life when do many others perished. He was a fool for not seeing it, and he needed to honor it going forward.

  Life was a gift. He fought physically to keep his and vowed he would never take being alive for granted again.

  There was a plan in motion before they even pulled into the town. A plan to go west. Alone or not, Ross was going to stick to that plan and head to Branson, Missouri.

  THIRTY-TWO – FIGURE

  The new woman, Morgan didn’t say much. She sat in the back, sleeping most of the time. The main highway, while not free and clear was easy to maneuver for about eighty miles, then the weather took a turn. Almost instantly the sky darkened and the temperature dropped. The rain increased in intensity until it began to hail.

  They had to stop and bring Father Basko into the truck. It was far more dangerous in the back than it was for his body to sit up.

  That was when Morgan woke up.

  She helped Judd with Father Basko, then Dawson sat in the back with her.

  Before they pulled back on the road, Judd noticed Sister Helena had stepped from the bus. Before he got back in the truck, he went back to see what was going on.

  “How much further?” she asked. “We are going to need sturdy shelter before nightfall. The weather is only going to get worse.”

  “All weather comes from the west, so we’re gonna run into it. Maybe head south after Dayton and pull over?” Judd suggested.

  She nodded, wiping the water from her face. “I’m good on gas until then, you?”

  “Good. I’ll lead the way, stay close, the roads will be slick.”

  “I will, thanks.” Arms folded to her body, she hurried back to the bus and Judd went to the truck.

  “Okay,” he said as they got inside. “We’re gonna keep going until right after Dayton and pull over.” He grabbed the map from the floor and tossed it to Dawson. “Take a look and see where we can stop.”

  “Want me to look?” Morgan asked.

  “Nah, he’s good.” Judd l
ooked in the rearview mirror, then pulled out.

  “Is everything alright with Sister Helena?” Father Basko asked.

  “Yeah, she just wanted to know when we were stopping. The weather is getting bad.”

  Father Basko shifted in his seat. “I worry. She is not seeing clearly. She’s following her faith and not her heart. Sometimes … you have to draw a line.”

  “It’s hard to do in this situation,” Judd said. “I mean, people are people and it’s hard to see beyond the fact that they are alive.”

  “I disagree,” Morgan said. “Out there, I don’t know if you ran into them, but there are people out there that are not alive. They’re shells and soulless, and I can see the distinction.”

  “Wait until you see what’s on the bus,” Dawson said. “She has a whole busload. At least twelve.”

  “Oh my God,” Morgan looked out the window. “In the bus she's driving?”

  Judd nodded.

  Father Basko slumped in the seat toward the door, he reached over and touched Judd’s hand. “Promise me you won’t let them in the shelter with us. Don’t let them in under any circumstances.”

  “I’ll make that promise,” Morgan interjected. “I know what the Starers are like.”

  “Starers?” Judd asked.

  “That’s what I call them.”

  “I call them Trancers,” Dawson said.

  “Trancers, Starers,” Judd shook his head once. “Man, you people have really cool names for them. Why haven’t I thought of one. How about you Father? You have a name for them?”

  “Yes, I do.” Father Basko raised his eyes to Judd. “The Abominated.”

  <><><><>

  Columbus, Ohio was gone. Not geographically displaced, but rather it was destroyed. What caused its demise was anybody’s guess. The skyline was dark, the buildings that had not been reduced to rubble were mere support beam skeletons of their former shapes. Debris of wood, concrete and glass scattered everywhere, and sections of town had been burnt black. There were no fires smoldering, the weather battled the flames and won. There had been a lot of rain, so much that it caused the river to overflow and spill across the area, covering the land and hiding the roadways.

  The beltway around the city was nearly as dangerous. Trees and branches strewed across the expressway and several inches of water glazed the surface. So much so, they took a longer route.

  It was in Columbus that Morgan began adamantly suggesting that they lose the boat.

  “We’re not losing the boat,” Judd said.

  “It’s weighing us down, making travel difficult, plus eating a lot of gas.”

  “We’re not losing the boat,” Judd repeated.

  “We need the boat,” Dawson said.

  Morgan laughed. “You need the boat? Why? Are you gonna go fishing?”

  “Hey, now,” Judd said. “Don’t make fun. He says he needs it, so we take the boat.”

  Groggily, Father Basko joined the conversation. “We’re going to need the boat.”

  A slight jolt went through Judd when he heard the father say that. “Why do you think we need the boat?” Judd asked Father Basko.

  “When we were in Cleveland, just before the earthquake hit, we were communicating on the radio. There was a man with us, Steven, he was killed in the quake. Anyhow, there are two more storm fronts coming. They were described to us as looking like huge land hurricanes. Two of them joined together. They’re gonna dump a lot of rain. We’re driving right into them. We can go north, south, doesn’t matter, they’re that big.”

  “How is that possible?” Judd asked. “How is any of this linked? I mean, the weather, the people …”

  Father Basko shook his head with a groan. “I don’t know. The information we got was relayed, this person said that, and so forth. We didn’t get all the details. We hoped we would, but everything shut down communication wise. Sister Helena and Steve got the last message. I was sleeping. She knows a bit more. They were kind of theorizing it was a manmade thing. Weather, atmosphere manipulation gone bad.”

  “Oh, balls,” Judd scoffed. “That isn’t possible.”

  “I agree,” Father Basko said. “I’m still banking on the big guy.”

  “The God idea is not possible either,” Morgan said. “The man made thing is, I guessed it from researching. I was looking into it before the power went out. Cloud seeding and geoengineering. All that was happening, had happened and something went wrong. I kept saying it.”

  “To who?” Judd asked. “The Staring people? You said you were alone.”

  “You know what I mean,” she said.

  “Do you think Branson will be flooded?” Dawson asked.

  Morgan leaned forward. “Is that where you guys are going? Branson?”

  Judd nodded.

  Father Basko quickly looked at him. “Branson. We were headed there as well when you happened upon us. We heard it on the radio.”

  “Us ... me, too,” Morgan said. “Branson was mentioned on a radio call. Something about a pilgrimage to life.”

  “No kidding?” Judd said then whistled. “Wow, I didn’t know that. We didn’t have a radio. We had Ray in Australia, but he disappeared.”

  Father Basko looked at him curiously. "If you didn’t have a radio, how did you choose Branson?"

  Judd pointed back to Dawson. “His dream and a brochure.”

  “Yeah,” Dawson said. “I keep dreaming of a guy named Bill. He’s waving his arm saying for us to come to Branson.”

  Morgan laughed. “Oh my God, you were following the dream of a little boy?”

  “He was right,” Judd said.

  “And who is Bill?” Morgan asked. “Some sort of Mother Abagail.”

  “Actually,” Father Basko said. “Bill is the name of the radio man in Branson.”

  “No kidding.” Judd gushed in shock, then looked back at Dawson. “Little dude, you are like a psychic. Next time you dream of Bill pay attention to the surroundings.”

  “Okay.”

  “Wow, that is cool. I got chills,” Judd held his arm out to Father Basko. “Look goosebumps. Chills.”

  “Probably the weather,” Morgan grumbled.

  After giving a scolding look to her via the rearview mirror, Judd focused forward and continued to drive.

  They had set a goal of two hundred miles for the day and surpassed that. They had momentum and would had made it father if the weather cooperated and they didn’t have to go so far around Columbus. Taking it slow added over an hour to their time. The temperature dropped and the rain was a mixture of water and snow. The cold temperatures caused a deep slush on the road and they pulled over at a small road stop town just across the Indiana border.

  Stopping was a must.

  They pulled over into the lot of Patty’s Bar and Grill. A two story log cabin looking building with a great looking covered patio and fifty yards from a Calico Gas and Go.

  “This place looks good.” Judd peered close to the windshield. “The chimney is big. Maybe they have a fireplace. Don’t see any of those people around either. I’ll go check it out. I mean we really have no choice but to stop, Last couple miles were pretty scary on the road.”

  “I lived in Maine, this is nothing.” Father Basko said with a tired voice. “I’m ready to stop though, and the roads … there will be no street crews to clean this up.”

  “I know.” Judd replied. “Maybe it will warm up. I’ll start thinking of something. If it doesn’t warm up, roads are gonna be tricky to maneuver.”

  “I have an idea,” Morgan leaned forward. “Why don’t we …”

  “Chick,” Judd cut her off. “If you suggest one more time that we lose the boat, next leg of the journey you ride in the bus with the creepy kids and Tire Man! Got it?”

  She sat back chastised.

  Judd grabbed the flashlight and opened the door. “I’ll be right back.”

  The moment he put his foot to the ground he was grateful he was wearing boots. The slushy water hit above his ankles and he
could feel how cold it was even through the leather.

  He signed with his hand to Sister Helena to wait and he pointed to the building. Judd trudged through the flooded parking lot, up the four steps to the building and opened the door. It didn’t smell like bodies which was a good sign. It was cold and dark, the only light came through the large windows and that wasn’t much.

  It was a big open place with picnic looking tables in the main area. A huge bar was on the far wall, and in the center of the room was a fireplace opened on both sides.

  Judd would break the tables if need be for heat.

  He heard a splashing sound, and thought maybe it was a leak. Then he realized it was improbable with a second floor above them.

  A few steps into his walk he learned the source behind the splashing. It was concealed by the fireplace until Judd moved another few feet.

  Against the wall was a huge fish tank, standing before it, back to Judd, was a very large man in a cook’s outfit. His hands were in the tank.

  “Shit,” Judd said out loud.

  The man turned around. He had the larger tropical fish dangling from his mouth.

  “Sushi on the menu tonight?” Judd joked.

  The man chomped and sucked the fish into his mouth, staring at Judd.

  “Something tells me, you don’t find that funny.”

  What was taking so long? Dawson wondered. It wasn’t like Judd was in the building forever, but sure felt like it. He asked to get out of the car, but that woman kept telling him to stay put. Finally, Father Basko opened the door and Dawson heard it.

  A cross between a scream and a sung note, a long drawn out ‘Ah’ rang out. It grew louder and louder until the front door of Patty’s burst open. Some large man wearing white carried Judd face to face by the jacket, feet off the ground as he raged out the door and tossed Judd to the ground. He landed with a splash.

  Dawson screamed. The woman in the truck, jumped over the seat and opened the driver’s door. Dawson did the same.

  Before he even cleared the truck the man in white picked up Judd and tossed him down to the ground again.

  “No!” Dawson screamed, his feet sank in the water and he tried to run.