She was right. The truck, an ancient vehicle rubbed clean of paint, like a dust bowl relic too far east, was tucked into a wooden shack too small for anything else. A wooden door on metal slides had been pushed aside a couple of feet by Evajean, and they both had to put their full weight into it to get it the rest of the way.
The truck had a wooden hold bolted to the flatbed, large enough to haul nearly all the supplies they’d need. Elliot whooped when he saw it, pounding his fist against the barn’s wall in excitement. They could get out of here, quickly and easily, and with everything it’d take to make it to Colorado. So long as there were gas stations or abandoned cars, their trip west would be an easy one.
Like it started out as? his brain tried to remind him, but he pushed that aside.
They spent until morning loading the truck, taking food and jugs of water, guns and bullets. They’d defend themselves this time, from whatever the western road might hold. The sun was over the hills when Elliot sat down in the driver’s seat and Evajean climbed in on the other side, holding the dog and still smiling. She’s using this, he thought. She’s using this terrific flash of luck to not have to deal with what had happened in the small hours of the night. But they’d have to deal with it, have to talk it through once Nahom had dropped far behind. Because that just wasn’t the kind of thing you can agree to just ignore. Not in a world as mad as this one. He’d let her do it for now, however. He couldn’t see the point of doing otherwise.
True to her word, the truck started without issue, the engine loud and heavy, but smooth enough to prevent worry. They pulled out of the barn and took the wide dirt road as it curved out of town, following a gentle assent angled along the slope to the west of Nahom. After a mile or so, it joined with a paved road, barely a single lane in each direction, and then on to the highway. As soon as they hit that, Elliot’s breathing became easier. That hated place was so far behind now and they were safe from whatever had been left in the burning church or the caves and tunnels underneath. Evajean had fallen asleep, the dog as well, and he drove in comfortable silence. The truck didn’t have a radio, but he didn’t mind. It was enough to listen to the wind and watch the mountains go by.
It’d had a full tank when they left and there were a few large cans of extra gasoline in the barn. These they’d loaded into the back of the truck, tucked in near the center of the supplies to keep from banging around. It was more than enough to get them through until evening and then, once they’d had a full night of rest, they’d worry about finding more.
Small talk was all they managed for the next ten hours, Elliot driving and Evajean playing with the dog or looking out the window. He wanted to know more about what had happened to her back in Nahom, but she wasn’t ready. She didn’t tell him that, but he was aware of it, nonetheless.
The day’s drive took them out of the mountains along I-64, through West Virginia, and into Kentucky. They would’ve made Louisville, except that the truck couldn’t do much over fifty without starting to shake. Elliot keep it at forty-five to be safe. They saw other cars occasionally–not very many, however. But the strange thing, which Evajean pointed out more than once, was that there just weren’t any people. Every car they passed was in the road or along its side, empty, doors sometimes open, but often not, windows occasionally broken but mostly whole. It was like everyone had just got out and gone somewhere, not seeing the need for transportation anymore.
“Where do you think they went?” Evajean asked, after they’d eaten a lunch of canned meat and green beans pulled from their stores in the back of the truck. “They’re just gone.”
Elliot, physically tired but still on a mental high from the previous night, rolled down his windows another few inches. “Could be anywhere,” he said.
“No. I mean, where’d they all go? There’s a lot of people in the United States, Elliot. Like three-hundred million. And a lot of cars, too. And they’re just not here. When people got sick, back in Charlottesville, when they got sick they died. This didn’t vanish. Why aren’t there bodies?”
“I’m glad there aren’t,” he said.
“I am, too. I mean, god, can you imagine? If this whole highway was filled with them? I don’t know if I could do it, if I could make this drive.”
“If I could make this drive…” he said, and she laughed.
“You thought a truck this old was going to be an automatic?” she said. Then she drifted back to her original line of thought. “I guess what I mean, Elliot, is, do you think they went somewhere?”
“Instead of dying?”
“Yes.”
“Like the crazies,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Where could they have gone?”
“I don’t know,” Evajean said.
“That’d be a huge crowd. To just up and leave.”
Of course, he thought about this while they’d driven. Whenever his mind wasn’t tumbling through Evajean’s behavior and the death of the crazies, the near complete emptiness of the world was what it occupied itself with. If all the people who hadn’t died had gone crazy and if the crazies had an instinctual grouping behavior, like a school of fish or a pack of animals, then they could be anywhere. Three-hundred million was a lot, sure, but you can really pack them in if need be. Everyone could be standing in a huge clump in Oklahoma.
But that just brought up the next question. If he accepted that most people hadn’t in fact died, but instead become like the crazies who’d attacked Nahom, why hadn’t it happened to everyone? And why, with the exception of the lone woman in the Wal-Mart, had nobody gone crazy in Charlottesville? Why was Clarine dead instead of like the woman in red?
“Is it the hole?” Evajean said.
“Is what the hole?” Elliot said, his attention only now returning from his own thoughts.
“Where they went. All of them. Do you think when they took people to the hole, took the bodies, they did it because that’s where they were going anyway? The ones that didn’t die?”
“I don’t know,” he said, “Evajean, I really don’t.”
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“No.” He looked over at her. “No, that’s not what I meant. It’s only that it’s been a mess these last days and I’m tired. Exhausted. You know when the last time we slept was?”
She thought about it. “Thirty hours ago? Something like that.” She yawned, like the question had reminded her of her own weariness. “We could pull over, get some sleep.”
“I can go a ways before that,” he said. “Driving is actually nice. I’m not being chased.”
She smiled. “Yeah, that is something.”
And so he drove. Another two hours, however, and his eyes were too heavy to manage, his concentration drifting. He told Evajean it was time and she was more than happy to call it quits for the day. A full night’s sleep, far from the horrors of Nahom, was the most enticing thing Elliot could imagine now. And he was so bone tired, he’d sleep without dreams, turning his mind off from the rush of questions that’d plagued it all day.
He took the next exit off the highway that promised lodging. Right next to the interstate was a Super 8 motel, and he pulled the truck into the parking lot, stopping in front of the main office. “If there aren’t any keys,” he said, “we’ll just break the window.” Evajean nodded.
But there were keys. The office was empty, but clean and orderly. Wherever the nation’s population had gone, they hadn’t seen the need to stop at a motel along the way. Behind the large desk was a bank of keys. Only a few of the slots were vacant. Grabbing one on the first floor, Elliot and Evajean left the office.
Hope barked at them from the truck’s cab, but they left him inside until they’d picked through their supplies and chosen a dinner of canned beats, tuna fish, and a brick of hard cheddar. Then, the dog in tow, they opened the door to 112 and went inside.
The room, like the office, was clean. The only sign of prior occupancy was the comforter on the bed, which had been pushed down like someone had kicked it away upon waking up.
“That’s creepy,” Evajean said.
Elliot flipped the light switch but the room stayed dark. “Electricity’s out.”
“Yeah,” Evajean said. She pulled the curtains wide, letting in what remained of the day’s light. “I’m going to take Hope out,” she said.
“Be careful.”
While she was gone, Elliot opened the cans and spooned out portions on a set of plates they’d taken from one of the homes in Nahom. He cut the cheese into slices and arrayed them next to the tuna fish and beets.
When Evajean came back, they ate, enjoying the meal more for the peaceful quiet of the surroundings than for the taste of the preserved food.
Special Announcement: This is something very cool that’s been in the works for a while now. My good friend, Chris Stiphout, has begun recording “The Hole” into an audiobook podcast. The first five parts are available for listening now. You can get more info about downloading or subscribing to the audiobook on “The Hole” Audiobook Page.
