Desolation

Their work was done solemnly and quietly, packing the Blazer and preparing themselves for what all knew would be a long and arduous journey. Before deciding on their course of action, they reviewed the journal and map together and discussed the merits of going to Cicada via Max’s ranch, versus the longer distance to Cicada straight north and then through Tucson. The journey to Max’s ranch and then on to Cicada was shorter, but there were greater negatives to this route: they would have to leave eventually, but far more worrisome was the long stretch spent in Mexico. It was agreed that their safest bet was to avoid the hundreds of miles of potential cartel members they might run into in Mexico and instead take the quickest route out of Mexico even though it meant more miles to drive overall—mostly in the US.

This also meant leaving Max and hoping he made it out on his own and eventually to Cicada. It came down to taking the safer route and abandoning Max or fighting another battle against a heavily armed drug cartel. They could not count on finding the same luck escaping another battle. And they were sure this is what Max would want them to do. So, they voted unanimously for the route to Cicada through the US, and the hope and promise it brought. Miguel and Maria cast votes as well, as they were now considered part of their family.

Max had left a fairly detailed map on the day of the event, according to the date/time stamp. Its route took them through Tucson, Arizona, then New Mexico, and into Colorado where they would find Cicada.

When they were all packed up, they locked the warehouse and said their goodbyes to the burnt-out shell of a house where they had spent so many happy days building memories. They jumped into the Blazer, with Bill behind the wheel, Sally riding shotgun, Lisa in the back with Maria to help with Ana and because her Spanish was better, and finally Miguel on the other side. Lisa and Miguel would man the windows and if needed shoot whatever blocked their way. Bill and Sally also were armed and ready to do the same.

The truck was packed tight, with three times the amount of supplies they thought they would need for the journey, which they figured would take about two to three days depending on road conditions. Besides the obvious food, water, and ammo, they also packed extra cans of gas, enough for two trips to Cicada. Yet with everything packed, they didn’t even dent what was stored in Max’s warehouse.

They went through a checklist and decided it was time to go, before they attracted more undue attention. There was only one thing left to do before they headed out of town.

~~~

The Family Church of Christ was a nondescript building among other nondescript buildings in its neighborhood. It had a commercial-sized parking lot, although it was not paved, and there was a sign, donated by the Pelican Bar after a Mark Mulligan concert and fundraiser. The sign’s bright lights had illuminated the building, and some would say half the neighborhood. But that was before the Event. Prior to this, the church held one service on Sundays and the rest of the time undertook mission work serving the community, especially orphans and the hungry around them. The sign no longer called people for service, although many more came than ever did before the Event. And on all other days, there was a line of starving people hoping for a handout.

Bill pulled up and everybody in line stopped talking to stare at the impossible: a vehicle operating after Los Diablos Verdes. Bill parked next to what was probably the pastor’s car, the layers of dust attested to it being unused since the Event, and turned off the Blazer.

“I’m giving you only two minutes,” he said as he turned around from the driver’s seat and faced Lisa, “before we come in with guns drawn. You got it?” He looked at his wife, making sure she knew he was serious. He handed her the key Max had given him, attached to the lanyard.

“Okay, I’ll be quick,” she said as she scooted out of the truck and slammed the door behind her.

“Guns drawn, let everyone see we mean business,” he said as he watched his wife slip past some people and through the door.

She saw the minister almost immediately, among a throng of people, and walked briskly up to him. “Hello, Pastor John, I don’t know if you remember me…”

“Lisa and Bill King, of course.” His smile was warm and infectious. “How could I forget your generous food donation.” Several heads lifted up, people trying to hear what came next.