Alone Page 5

remained. I couldn’t see any of the familiar building that I’d used as landmarks all of my life. The cities famous mesa hill still stood, however it eastern section that contained an old quarry had ceased to exist. Only the western section with the Christian cross still standing as testimony to God‘s power of the flood.

  I let Java out to run, while I continued stared in awe. Eventually, I loaded myself back into the car and returned to Broadway Avenue, where I could take the freeway back to highway 21 and get a better look of the upstream river.

  I took the normal exits, passed a new grocery store and the computer plant. I couldn’t see any sign of a flood from the current high vantage point, but about a mile past the computer plant, the road begins curving down and I quickly stopped the Ford. Where the highway crosses back over the canyon, the tall multi story bridge that had been constructed just a few short years ago, had also failed.

  Looking into the canyon, I could see the huge bridge supports had been dragged a hundred meters downstream. On the north side of the canyon, highway 21 had been stripped out of existence. Bare basalt rock outcropping and huge new gravel bars filled the canyon. On the south side of the canyon, the main canal was gone. The diversion dam, a short distance upstream was gone as well, as though it had never existed.

  I got back into the car and started driving home. I tried to follow the path of destruction as far as I could. It continued for many miles, oblivious to city boundaries, county lines and other works of man. I couldn’t tell if any of the downstream bridges had survived, since all roads leading down into the valley were choked with derelict cars, mud and debris.

  When I was north of home, 30 miles downstream from the city, I turned south and went home.

  At home, I cleaned up using bottled water and went to bed.

  I woke up and took a look around the neighborhood. I don’t know why it feels so empty. Every single window is a vacant set of eyes, telling me that I’m all alone. I think it’s time for something…something new…something different.

  I drove to an RV lot and found a monstrous diesel powered pig of an RV. The kind with generator, shower, toilet, water tanks, kitchen, living room, bed rooms (plural), and what anyone could see fit to put into an RV. I went down to the tire store and put on some heavy duty off-road tires (not cheap) and a good trailer hitch. I hooked up the Ford Escape and drove back home. I loaded up the RV with all the junk I’d collected to make life bearable. I also loaded up with water, food and fuel. In the main bedroom, I neatly laid out the boy’s and Jackie’s clothes.

  It was late when I finished packing, but I started up the RV and began driving south. I followed the highway until around midnight. I stopped in the middle of the road, shut down and set the parking break. Then I reclined the lush captain’s chair and fell asleep.

  In the morning I was a long way from anywhere. I’d kept track with a map of where I was and that was in the middle of nowhere. I studied the map for a long time and finally located a promising site. The map showed a hot springs located along a small stream several miles up a minor track that connected with the road that I was on.

  I started the RV and drove down to where the track started. It really didn’t look too good for driving an RV on, just an overgrown path that left the road and started heading into the mountains. At the best of times, the route was probably a challenge for four wheel-drive vehicles, better suited for ATV’s and motorcycles.

  I turned the RV onto the track and started up. I hoped that the new off road tires would help, but if they didn’t I could always find another RV and start again.

  The trail continued for quite a ways on flat level ground before entering the foot hills. In the foot hills the trail got narrower, rockier and more washed out from the seasons. Fortunately though, the ground was still frozen and the snow unmelted on the peaks. The challenge was keeping each of the RV’s tires on the road.

  After an hour of slowly cruising, I reached the snow level. I could see snow drifts covering the road further up and decided to stop. Along with the off road tires that I’d installed, I’d picked up a full set of chains from the tire store.

  I spent a good half hour putting the chains on. The job made difficult by having to stand on either the steep down slope side or the equally steep upslope side.

  With the chains on, I started up the trail again. The bite of the chains and the mass of the RV bit in and plowed through the snow banks effortlessly. I kept on driving, my only real concern being some tight switch backs. Surprisingly, gas and guts pulled me through the worst snow drifts, switch backs and wash outs.

  The trail crested and dropped down into a small valley, where it followed the general course of a small stream. The same stream I’d seen on the map. I figured the hot springs would probably another two miles down stream in the valley.

  A scant few minutes later, having driven over what I could only guess was the road, I came to the hot springs. 30 feet to the left of the stream, steam rose slowly into the cool air. Thick blankets of ice had formed around the banks of the hot spring as it flowed gently towards the stream.

  Scanning the area I located a flat area near the hot springs that would make a level parking spot for the RV. I gunned the engine and turned the RV off the trail, bouncing and rocking through snow, ice and brush before coming to the flat space and putting the brakes on. I shut the engine down and sat quietly.

  The valley continued downward for another half mile, before the hills closed back in with tight rock formations. Scrub brush and trees bordered the stream. Thin sagebrush peppered the hillside of the valley.

  Getting up from the seat, I exited the vehicle and made a short survey of the hot springs and stream. There were quite a few sets of animal prints; deer, fox, coyote, rabbit, quail, cow.

  Summer

  I’ve settled in to my valley home. I don’t know what it is, but I just can seem to stop building, expanding, hooking up, piping, wiring and whatever else. I really have nothing better to do.

  It’s kind of silly everything I’ve done in my little valley. I’ve hooked up solar cells for power, dammed the stream and hot spring for heating and cooling, erected barrier fences to keep the wildlife out of the garden and away from the RV’s, I brought up a second monster RV, I have a small water tower, a small shed with power tools, and other little projects.

  I spent all summer this way, making my little home in the valley more comfortable. I still had plenty of canned and dry food, but now I had fresh vegetable and the occasional deer.

  Late Fall

  The snows have already come to my mountain valley. The trail is completely impassible in anything but snow shoes, skis and snow mobiles.

  I have an extensive library of books, movies and video games to pass the time. Both of the RV’s are kept warm with a flow of hot water and small wood stoves that I added when the temperatures started dipping.

  I was sitting in the driver’s seat, Java at my feet, when I heard a strange noise from the rear of the trailer. There were bears and mountain lions that sometimes ventured near camp. I was well armed, but hated the idea of having to shoot a dangerous animal so near to home.

  As I set the book down, I noticed that Java had canted his head to the side with his ear raised in an expression of curiosity. He wasn’t growling and his fur lay flat.

  Someone said, “What the Hell!”

  I stood up and walked quickly to the back of the RV, Java right at my side. I swung open the main bedroom door and just stood there.

  Sitting up on the master bed were my wife and two sons. I felt my skin go both numb and crawl with sensation. I saw their mouth’s move, but I did not hear. I didn’t feel Java as he rushed past me and began muzzling them on the bed.

  I tried to say her name. My tongue was thick and I just stammered, “Ja-Jack..” I tried again, this time they words coming out thick and slow, but complete, “Jackie, is that you?”

  There were sitting on the bed, their eyes, and skin and hair fresh as the last day I saw them. There clothes, t
he clothes I had laid out on the bed, were dusty and sun bleached on one side. I smelled Jackie’s perfume.

  “What in the Hell is going on,” she repeated. Then, “Where the hell am I?”

  I walked into the bedroom on legs that felt like stone. I reached out and touched her on the shoulder. Beneath the fabric, solid flesh. Her eyes flashed with life. They were confused, and angry. She stared at me with those eyes.

  I slowly sat down on the floor, my back against the wall. This was my wife and children, but they were strangers. They were flesh and blood, human, but they were alien to me.

  Finally, I said to her, “I have a story to tell you. It will answer your questions, but it won’t answer how…or why. Don’t say anything or ask any questions, unless you’re hungry right now or need a break.” Then I told her the story of the lost year and a half. The story of my last year and a half.

  The End

  We stayed where we were. Of course, we couldn’t leave, the winter was bad and the snow was too deep. We had food and shelter. We would be OK. I started teaching the boys reading, writing and arithmetic.

  We started receiving radio a few weeks after my wife returned. Everyone returned on the same day as my wife. Unfortunately, they returned to where their clothes lay. It was a simple return for those persons whose clothes lay where they had fallen. I can only imagine the discomfort of those