We walked and talked for the next half hour. We had a lot in common. Brad and I were both college grads, professionals in our fields. The same held true for Wendy and Sharon. They had two children, a girl and a boy, and so did I. Rather we, Sharon and me. They lived some ten miles south of me in the small city of Cottage Grove. The far south end of that city.
Brad had similar thoughts as mine. He believed they should stay put at first. Stick together with the neighbors and get strength from each other. It wasn’t until the lawless element arrived that Brad even considered leaving. But once he and Wendy decided on a better place for them to be, they packed up and left their home in less than 48 hours. Not exactly my same path, but close enough.
After an hour in the hot August sun, I began to notice more and more people heading against the grain on both sides of the freeway. While the main crowd was heading east, some – quite a few now – were heading west; into the Twin Cities. Away from safety and into danger? That didn’t make any sense. Finally I stopped a group of friendly looking people. Two guys in Twins caps along with their girlfriends or wives. It was difficult to tell.
“Excuse me, friend.” The group smiled at us and stopped without any argument. “Can you tell me why you’re headed into town instead of into Wisconsin? It seems to be going against the grain of traffic.” The taller of the two men spoke first.
“Easy man. The bridge is closed up ahead. People just don’t realize it yet. Some old lady told us about two miles back, just up over the next hill.” He pointed east. Now his friend chimed in.
“For the first half mile or so we tried to tell everyone. But either they didn’t believe us or they just don’t care.” His lady friend slid in beside him and took his hand in hers.
“So you saw this? With you own two eyes? Right?” Their story didn’t make sense to me. Why would they close the bridge into Wisconsin?
“No,” the taller one spoke again. “But we heard gunfire up ahead, so we all agreed not to push our luck. Maybe it’s not closed, but we aren’t ready to die trying to get across. Dig it?” He gazed between Brad, Wendy and myself. I looked at Brad for his thoughts. His stare looked far off.
“Go check it out man.” The shortest of the pair took off his cap, exposing spiked blond hair. He ran a cloth over his sweaty scalp. “Another six miles or so and you can see for yourself.” Brad nodded at this notion.
“I believe we will go look at the situation. But thanks for the advice.” Brad had a plan. I could see it in his eyes. “Safe travels to you all.”
We left the group and continued east. When we made it to the top of the next hill, the tides of the swarm had changed. Where before most of the crowd was headed east, we could see the majority of the crowd was now headed west. Wendy reached forward and stopped Brad. Brad reached for my arm to stop me.
“This doesn’t look so good Brad.” Wendy’s voice was small and had a slight tremble. “Bill, what are your thoughts?” I turned to address them both. I smiled at their children. They’d been so quiet thus far, I had forgotten they were even there.
“What are you thinking, Brad? I can always go south to cross somewhere else. But what are your thoughts?” I decided earlier to stick with Brad and Wendy for as long as I could. We could offer each other some protection that way.
Brad looked back at Wendy. “We really need to cross here if we can. Our route is straight if we can just stay on this road. If there’s anyway we can get through, we really need to.” His gaze returned to me. I smiled.
“Well, it won’t hurt anything to go check it out. Whether we cross here or Stillwater or Prescott, they’re all accessible from the road that runs along the river. So let’s keep going. Maybe we’ll get lucky.” We moved on.
A half hour later we came to a huge roadblock. A large group was stopped listening to another smaller group speak. We joined the mass of people.
“No. Turn back. You can’t cross there today. There’s trouble. I saw it with my own eyes. I stood right there at the crest of the hill and looked down on it.” An older grey haired man spoke loudly to the group. His arms flailed as he spoke.
“What exactly did you see? Who’s blocking the road?” Someone from our left called out for more information. The old man took a deep breath and started his tale once more.
“No one’s blocking the road per se. There’s a battle going on down there. The have’s are fighting the have not’s. Understand?” Hearing murmurs from the crowd he continued on. “In the middle of the bridge, both directions, a war has started. There’s a group there, mostly men it looks like, and they’re taking things from people. Almost everything. Some gave up their stuff and they were let through. But then some resisted and tried to scamper past. That’s when the shooting started. People were diving everywhere for cover. I saw people jump off the bridge.” I flinched. The water was some 40 feet below the bridge surface.
“Isn’t anyone helping? Where’s the police?” Another voice rose from the opposite side of the crowd. The old man shook his head.
“No, not from what I saw. And I watched for over an hour.” He turned and looked around the group surrounding him. “No one’s coming. No help’s on the way. Go back to where you came from. Try another day. You can’t get through today.” The crowd grumbled and began to scatter. I turned to Brad and Wendy.
“Okay, here’s the plan. We cut cross-country to the north. To Stillwater. We can cross there.” Both nodded their agreement. Eight miles to the north was the next closest bridge crossing. A new traveler stopped and shook his head at my words.
“Can’t get through up there. I tried it this morning. Stillwater’s closed down.” His tired sun burnt face told me he wasn’t lying. Still I questioned him.
“The bridge is closed?” I saw him shake his head at my question.
“No, the town is locked down. They aren’t letting anyone in. I was there this morning. Got turned down. I guess Prescott is the next bridge down river. Maybe we can cross there.” Before I could say anything a new voice joined our discussion.
“Can’t get through there either.” Another older man spoke. He looked to be almost 60, but in great shape. “I came from there last night. Wanted to get back home from Hastings to Prescott. There’s some sort of militia down there not letting anybody cross.” He looked closely at Wendy and then her children. “I begged, I pleaded. I told them they could follow me home. Still wouldn’t let me through. They didn’t give me any reason. Just said I couldn’t cross there. Bastards.” He blushed slightly at Wendy. “Sorry ma’am. Didn’t mean to use such harsh language in front of you and your children.” Wendy smiled and rubbed his shirt sleeved armed.
“It’s all right. No offense taken, sir.” I looked at Brad, his face blank.
I thought of our options, out loud for Brad and Wendy’s benefit. “Okay, Osceola is about 30 miles north. We can try and cross there. Otherwise,” I let my head fall forward. “Wabasha to the south. But that’s more than 60 miles from here. And way off your path.” Wendy and Brad shared a helpless look. I felt so bad for them.
“Where you all headed?” the older man asked. We answered, without looking up. He nodded at Green Bay, but his head shook wildly at the mention of Milwaukee. “That’s not good.” I stared at his weather worn face.
“What’s no good?” I hoped he had a decent answer for me.
“Never get past Madison on the freeway. I hear talk of road trouble down there. Seems people in need have taken to the main roads looking for easy prey. Maybe you can make it past them. You just won’t have a bike or any supplies any more. They’ll take everything from you. I hear if you don’t give it up, well… you know.” His sad look told me everything I needed to know. “Besides, I hear of nuclear trouble down towards Chicago. People coming from the south are talking about it. Sounds like it’s spreading in all directions. No telling how safe Milwaukee will be.”
I quickly dismissed his talk of nuclear issues. That’s just how rumors started. I was sure it was nothing more than a myth at best. As for th
e trouble I would find on the road, I smiled at the group around me. “I have a gun with me. I’m not too worried. I know how to protect myself.” As the last words left my lips, I froze. My gun, my bullets; crap. They weren’t with me. They were sitting safely on my dining room table back at my house. I dropped to my knees and lowered my head. I felt Wendy kneel next to me.
“What’s wrong, Bill?” I looked deep into her green eyes and laughed at myself.
“My protection is sitting on my table; back in Woodbury. At my home.” A look of shock crossed her face. “I have to go back and get that gun and all my ammo.” Buddy walked up beside me from nowhere. I hadn’t paid him any attention since I had hit 694. He licked my sweaty face.
“I’d advise you get that gun, son.” The old man freely shared more of his wisdom. “If you think you’re going to Milwaukee, you’re going to need the protection.” He was right, of course.
Brad and Wendy decided to continue on without me. Daylight was already burning away and they had many, many miles to travel with two small children. I couldn’t blame them. I’d already proven to be not a great help. The guy with a gun, just not on him right now. I watched them continue east towards the river and perhaps trouble. Brad was determined to try and cross at Hudson. Osceola was a ways to the north and Wabasha was too far south for his needs. So they would do their best to cross where other’s warned them not to travel.
Chapter 13