I pedaled easily up to the main road of town under clear blue skies. There I would turn to the west and bike another mile or so to the entrance ramp to Interstate 694. Heading north two miles on 694 I would head east on 94, into Wisconsin. Nine hilly miles of freeway would take me to the bridge crossing over the St. Croix River. Finally a steep hill would bring me safely into the farmlands of west-central Wisconsin.
Main Street to 694 was easy going. There were some people on the road, but not what I would call a lot. I only saw three others on bikes as I made my way to the freeway. Buddy trotted next to me as we coasted onto the four-lane highway. As I looked ahead I saw more people than I had expected. Many more. And most appeared to be on foot.
Slowly I descended the on-ramp, carefully weaving in and out of the crowd. Perhaps I was not the only person who’d had enough of waiting. Some people pulled wagons, others small carts, and more had on large backpacks. Whatever was causing this exit, people seemed to be prepared and were bringing with them the same necessities I deemed important.
I noticed several other people with set-ups similar to mine. They also used their bikes to tow some type of carrier. At that moment I knew I was on the correct path. I wasn’t the only one on the road looking for something. Maybe they weren’t searching for lost family members like me, but they were in search of something. Or maybe just fleeing trouble that was at their doorsteps – also like me.
A young family caught my attention ahead. Mom and Dad pedaled their sturdy mountain bikes forward, as two small children rode behind in a carrier attached to their mother’s bike. It looked to me like dad had a heavy load in the carrier he pulled. Then I noticed one of his tires was flat. I stood in my pedals to pump hard to catch them.
“Say, buddy, wait up.” I called ahead to the quartet. Mom looked back first and called for her husband’s attention.
“Brad, stop. This man needs something.” I smiled at the small woman. I couldn’t tell if she was frightened by my fast approach. Thick brown sunglasses covered her eyes.
Her husband stopped and looked back skeptically. “What you need, pal?” He wasn’t happy to be stopping at this point. I pointed at his rear tire on his bike.
“You’re flat back there. It’s making your journey twice as difficult as it needs to be. I’ve got a pump, let’s get you some air.” His young wife walked next to him.
“That’s very sweet of you, sir. Isn’t it Brad?” She smiled at me and then to her scowling husband.
“I’ve got my own pump. I can take care of my own tire.” He didn’t wait around for any further discussion and began digging in his carrier for his pump. I shrugged.
His wife touched my arm softly as I turned to leave. “Thank you. That was very kind of you. You’ll have to forgive Brad,” she bobbed her head in her husband’s direction. “He hasn’t been himself lately. Someone broke into our home in the middle of the night two days ago. Brad chased them off with a shovel, but he hasn’t slept since. He’s not himself.” She tried to give me a tired smile, but looked worn out instead.
“I understand. Happening everywhere now.” I watched as her man frantically pumped away on his flat. “Where are you headed?” I looked back to the wife as she raised her sunglasses exposing her pretty, but tired, green eyes.
“Green Bay. At least we hope so. That’s where all my family lives. Since Brad’s an only child we figured we’d go by my family. There should be strength in numbers at least.” I nodded as she finished.
“I suppose you’ll take 94 to 29, and then 29 all the way across?” She got a nice smile out this time showing her agreement. “How far is that?” She scrunched up her nose a little, thinking to herself.
“Right around 260 miles. How long do you think that will take us? Brad thinks we can get there in two days. But I’m not so sure.” I stared up at the hazy blue sky above. Sweat stung my eyes.
“Well, if you average ten miles an hour, that would be a little more than a day. But you’ll have to stop for breaks and who knows what the roads will be like at night.” I watched Brad closer. He wasn’t making much progress on the flat. “Bad tube, Brad?” He cast a harsh glare back my way.
“Damn it Wendy. I told you we can’t be telling everyone our names out here. We don’t have enough to share with every stranger you want to take in.” He wiped some sweat from his brow, his mood softening a little. “Yeah, no air going in. I don’t know what’s wrong.” I walked over to offer him my help. I saw the problem after a quick inspection of his fitting.
“You lost the pokey thing on the end. It’s not depressing the valve.” I smiled up at Brad. “Here, let me go grab mine. We’ll have you back on your way in no time.” I felt his hand on my shoulder as I turned for my supplies.
“Thank you. Really, I’m sorry. I just haven’t slept much lately. Not myself I suppose.” Brad looked tired – no, exhausted.
“It’s fine, Brad. It will be okay.”
With the help of an operating pump, Brad’s tire was as good as new in no time. We shook hands and parted ways. I pedaled ahead. My trip would require me staying on my bike for as many hours each day as possible. I didn’t mind helping the young family. I just knew I couldn’t afford a lot of these types of breaks.
My journey continued north on 694 as I weaved in and out of groups of walkers. The general mood was decent amongst the people. No one made any comments about how lucky I was to have a bike and not to be on foot. I felt guilty though. I seemed to be showing off my superiority over the average traveler. At least that’s how I felt.
When I turned east on the ramp to Interstate 94 I got my first real view of just how bad the crisis really was. I stopped and leaned forward on my handlebars. I scanned the road to the east, as I far as I could see, then back to the west. The mass of humanity on the road took my breath away.
There were hundreds of people on the first part of my journey. My short two-mile trip up 694. But now I stood awe struck. There were thousands on the main freeway. Many thousands. Instantly I thought of the Israelites fleeing Egypt. Maybe Moses was somewhere out front even now.
Just where were all of these people going? What could they all be running from? Or maybe running to? The road wasn’t packed with people, but I couldn’t see a lot of empty pavement from my vantage point. This meant trouble. This meant slow going.
The few travelers that I saw on bikes were moving slower than I had hoped they would be. Instead of weaving in and out of the mass, they were traveling in the ditches. From what I could tell, their progress was slow. I closed my eyes to think of other options. None came to mind. I would have to become one of the many. Somehow I would have to fit in with the rest, the group, the swarm.
Brad and Wendy caught up with me going down the ramp. I looked over and saw Brad’s foul expression. I’m sure I didn’t look much happier myself.
“How far you suppose this stretches into Wisconsin…?” He gave me a puzzled look. It struck me finally, he’d never asked my name.
“Bill. Bill Carlson. And as for how far,” I shrugged, “I don’t know. Just stick tight with me. You and your wife and the kids. We’ll be safer together.” He nodded as he looked back to Wendy and told her to stay close. When I glanced back I noticed a concerned look from the previously happy face.
We made it exactly nowhere before we were off our bikes and walking them along with the crowd of people. The ditch was impossible. I saw that from higher up and Brad agreed. And there was no way to weave with this many people on the road. So we took to foot. It was safer and probably the most sociable thing to do, given the circumstances. I hoped this crowd would thin out once we crossed the bridge, still some eight miles ahead.
“Bill?” Wendy called out from just behind me. “Where are you headed? I don’t believe I asked you that before.” No, she hadn’t.
“Milwaukee.” Brad stopped and looked at me carefully. “You don’t like Milwaukee, Brad?” I smiled broadly at him.
He laughed and answered. “No. Milwaukee’s fine. Just a long ways south. Yo
u know, Chicago’s just south of there. If the crowd on this road is any indication, there’s gonna be a lot of people on the roads down there.” He looked ahead at the slow moving crowd and shook his head.
“I know,” I answered. “It’s just that my wife and kids are down there. I don’t expect them to venture out and find me. So I’ll go get them. After we’re all together, we can decide where to go from there.” We walked by a small crying child on the side of the road. What appeared to be a sister was trying to comfort him or her. “Who knows, maybe this will all blow over in a couple weeks. Maybe things will get back to normal sooner than we think.” I looked over at Brad again. “There’s always hope, right?” I hoped for a nod, but got a frown instead.
“I think it was solar flares that caused this. Big, huge solar flares. Like back in the 1860s.” I had no idea what Brad was referring to and my look gave away my lack of knowledge. He continued. “Back in 1859 or 1860, I can’t remember the exact year, there was a period of huge solar flares. Like a weeks worth. The radiation from the flares destroyed all sorts of telegraph wires in the US and in Europe. It burned them right up.” Our little group stopped on the side of the road so I could question Brad’s theory.
“Okay. Let’s say it was solar flares. Like those back in the 1800s. Can’t say I’ve ever heard of that, but let’s say that same thing happened. It would burn up all the phone and electrical wires then, right?” Brad nodded eagerly. “Well, that explains some of this. But not everything. Our phones don’t work, our cars don’t go. Got an explanation for that?” Brad’s eyes opened wide.
“Everything’s been irradiated. A massive radioactive wave went through and wiped everything out. I work with computers, Bill. That much radiation, that large of a pulse would kill everything.” Brad winked and leaned back to pick his small daughter up from the ground. I thought further.
“So just like an Electromagnetic Pulse. Right?” Brad’s eyebrows rose.
“Worse. And do you know why?” He could see the obvious stupidity on my face. “It’s worldwide, Bill. Not just here, not just there … everywhere.” Wendy took off her sunglasses and wiped her dry mouth. She had apparently heard this all before. Brad stared at me intently. “You know what that means, Bill? For all of us? For all of humanity?”
I continued to stare into Wendy’s tired, dead eyes. I knew what he was going to say. The worst part was he might even be right.
“We’re screwed, Bill. Humanity is so screwed. And civilization will never be the same – ever.” I watched Wendy’s lips tighten. Our eyes fixed on one another’s. I stared at her pretty green eyes as they slowly became covered with a light coating of tears. Finally, a single tear broke free and slid down her left cheek. This idiot sounded like he knew what he was talking about. Damn him.
Chapter 12