They slowly made progress down Route 3, keeping their eyes out for potentially adverse situations. Any lead time to spot a roadside ambush with roadblocks using trees or vehicles, malicious actors feigning a breakdown or injury, or really anything could spell disaster for them.

Joshua made eye contact with Megan in the rearview mirror and asked, “How are the boys doing?”

“Pretty tired, a lot of thumb sucking and not much movement. I would like to try to get them to pee when you find a good place to stop.”

“Roger that.”

Malorie said, “I can spell you and drive for a while if you like, Joshua.”

“That may work out great; let’s see about it when we stop.”

As they clicked off the miles in a westerly direction, they noticed that people were generally moving about. It was uncommon to see a whole lot of work vehicles like landscaper trucks or plumbers’ vans out on the roads. Most of the traffic consisted of overloaded cars. Joshua spotted one SUV with a clearly visible propane tank inside the enclosed cab, a disaster waiting to happen. Each small town was conducting itself differently in how it processed traffic. Some towns had a definite roadblock with either local law enforcement or sheriff’s deputies stopping each vehicle asking questions about where they were coming from, their reason for travel, and their destination; and some towns were still oblivious to the enormous implications of the Crunch. Joshua usually did the talking when they were stopped at a checkpoint and had his badge at the ready—which usually took the anxiety level down for the law enforcement officer standing behind the B pillar.

Malorie was very cautious as she got the Jeep out on the highway. She kept her speed around fifty-five miles per hour on I-79 South. The afternoon sun was picking up all the hints of autumn as the light shone through the deciduous trees shedding their leaves for winter. Malorie said, “At our rate of speed, we should be in Charleston in forty-five minutes.”

“Gotcha, I see our approximate location on our map. Wow, that’s a lot of red brake lights up ahead, and I also see police lights past that—proceed with caution.”

“Yeah, I am going to stay in the right lane with at least a car length in front of me so that I can jump out if need be,” Malorie responded. “Last thing I want to do is be trapped in traffic and make us easy pickings for criminals looking to become Mad Max road looters.”

Megan was looking around in all directions, then said with a puzzled voice, “You know, I hadn’t thought of it until now, but I haven’t seen a lot of semi-trucks with trailers; instead they’re all disconnected, standing on the road shoulder. It seems like everyone is running bobtail. I wonder why?”

“I imagine that it has to do with the fact that a loaded semi only gets five or so miles to the gallon, but if they drop the trailer they can likely double that and increase their chances of getting home,” Malorie replied.

“Speaking of, how are we doing for fuel?” Joshua asked from the passenger seat.

“Just over a quarter tank left,” Malorie answered. “After we get through this mess ahead, let’s find some gas. We can save the fuel we carried along with us for when we can’t buy fuel at any price.”

Joshua answered, “Good idea, looks like the West Virginia State Police are forcing everyone off at this exit.” Joshua squinted to read the sign up ahead that identified the exit. “Exit 9. Well according to the map, this Exit 9 coming up is Elkview. And it looks like we don’t have a choice; everyone is being forced to get off of the highway anyhow.”

14

MUTUAL SELF-INTEREST

I have sworn upon the altar of God, eternal hostility against every form of tyranny over the mind of man.

—Thomas Jefferson

En Route Through West Virginia—October, the First Year

As they prepared to take the exit off Highway 79, Joshua was processing a lot of different information. No matter what the situation was, he knew he had to find solutions that wouldn’t lead them into a trap. He didn’t want to put them in that position if it could be avoided, not because they were incapable of defending themselves, but the five of them likely couldn’t shoot, move, and communicate effectively if they became decisively engaged. “Looks like there’s a Speedway gas station over there. Let’s check that out. Malorie, be sure to look for a way out like a curb to clear or bushes to drive over for any line you pick to drive down. The last thing we want to do is drive into a shooting gallery that we can’t get out of.”

Megan, who had been passing out Goldfish crackers as a snack to the boys in the backseat, breathed a noticeable sigh of relief. “I’m glad that you said that, since I was thinking the same thing.”

Malorie carefully circled wide past the Speedway to survey the area. A large group of cars seemed to be forming at the McDonald’s and Bob Evans parking lots, with a few car horns sounding and people getting out of their vehicles to confront other drivers. The Speedway gas station had cones across the entrance, and a large piece of cardboard spray-painted with the words, NO POWER, NO GAS. Standing in the parking lot as an antilooting measure were five guys with long guns. Clearly, the expectation was that this situation could get ugly in a big hurry. Malorie drove past the gas station, turned the Jeep around, and pulled over. She then looked over her shoulder to address the group. “Seems like this whole area could get violent fast with the interstate shut down. No power, no food, no fuel—we need to figure something out quickly. I doubt most of these people in overloaded vehicles are as prepared as we are, but it’s only a matter of time before they figure that out.”

Joshua thought before he spoke and said, “That Speedway may still have gas to sell, but they aren’t selling it because they don’t have a way to get it out of the tanks in the ground. Lucky for them I’m with two very smart ladies who improvised a battery-operated pump for just such a situation. The question is, can we get close enough to ask them to allow us to pump fuel with our pump without seeming like a threat?”

“Joshua, if you walk up to them they are only going to see a fit guy with a holstered pistol and likely not hear what you have to say. If I walk up there with the pump in my hand and ask for the owner, they’ll be less likely to perceive a woman as a threat. I think that I have the best chance of us actually finding out,” Megan said. As she finished, a gray Chrysler sedan with the tell-tale lunging and sputtering sound of a car that is running out of fuel passed them and drifted to an odd angle as it coasted past them to the curb on the opposite side of the street.

“I can’t say that I like sending you, but those guys don’t seem like they want to get into any kind of a discussion about the gas, so I’ll stay back here with the .270 to cover you if need be.” Joshua swallowed hard. “Be careful. I noticed that there’s a guy with a black rifle up on the roof. I love you.”

Megan opened her door and then accessed the ammo can on the floorboard, removing the pump device that Malorie had fabricated for her. She then kissed the boys, said, “Mommy will be right back,” and closed the door. She looked into the passenger window and smiled at Joshua and Malorie, then approached the men with the pump device in plain view. After a short conversation with the first man holding a shotgun, he pointed her to another man standing between the plastic-wrapped overpriced bundles of firewood and the ice-chest freezer. Megan confidently approached him and explained the situation. From behind the wheel of the Jeep, Malorie could notice the situation change after Megan spoke to the second man; she could see her gesture toward the Jeep and see him nod in approval. Then he started to shout something to the other men standing in the nearest entrance, gesturing wildly with his one hand while holding a lever gun in the other.