We stared at the smoldering rubble. No words were spoken. Nothing needed to be said. The scene spoke for itself.
Brit had jumped down from my back when we turned west on 293rd Ave. She ran down the old blacktop road the last half-mile to her grandparent’s house. In her haste she missed what had caused me to stop and stare. The first three houses were all gone. All burned. Burned to the ground. I looked ahead watching the happy teen run the last few yards of her journey. I sprinted to catch up with her, hoping to either find theirs still standing or to ease the harsh kick in the guts she was about to receive. She stopped suddenly, so I caught her before she got there. But the damage was done.
She was crying by the time I got along side of her. Hands on her cheeks all out sobbing. I looked and couldn’t blame her. Whatever house had been here was gone. Also burned to the ground. The only thing left standing was the field stone fireplace on the west side of the foundation. Otherwise, everything else was level, and black.
“This is the place, right?” I had to ask, even though the surroundings were just as Brit had described in detail. The barn with the off kilter door, the row of trees leading up the drive and the pump, still intact, standing alone off to the right of the house. I walked slowly toward the pump. We both needed a drink badly.
The pump required more effort than I had thought to get the water to run cold from the well. But after a few minutes of continuous pumping, by me and me alone, the water was finally cold. Brit cupped her hands in the stream of the cool reward and took a small sip. She squeezed her eyes shut tight as more tears came with the memories. I took my turn as Brit pumped for me, the water was perfect. My parched throat finally received its relief. I turned and looked at the building, what was left of the former house.
“Where was their bedroom?” Brit pointed to the far back end of the rubble. I walked carefully around the foundation and inspected the former room from the lawn. I could see where the mattress had been, a dresser, I think, over in the corner, but not much else. Thankfully there were no charred remains.
She looked at me with her sad, defeated eyes. “You need to search through the whole house. If they’re here I want to bury them. I want you to bury them, please.”
I wanted to say no, I wanted to argue. Instead I began sifting through the remains of the once modest one story dwelling.
“What was here?” I stood in the center of a large room. Which room I couldn’t be sure.
Brit thought for a moment with a puzzled face and then circled to the front of the house. “That was the kitchen, or dining room. But I’m pretty sure it was the kitchen. The living room was up front here.” She pointed directly in front of where she was standing. “My bedroom was over here.” She moved to the west and pointed at a spot about ten by ten. Made sense to me.
I continued to kick through any piles I came across. Occasionally I dug in a pile if it looked promising. I found nothing. No people at least. No remains of people. I looked at the small teen sitting in the front yard on a large wooden swing. She was hopeful. Of what, I’m not sure. But Brit looked hopeful.
“Anything?” she called as I stopped to wipe the sweat from my eyes. The weather wasn’t as hot or humid as previous days, but the ashes were still warm.
“I don’t think so.” I looked at Brit carefully. “Do they have a car?” She pointed to a small one-car garage next to the barn. I jumped off the edge of the foundation and strolled to the closed door of the small enclosure. I pulled on the door but it was locked. I stood on my tiptoes to peer into the dark shed. One car sat inside, lonely.
“Anything?” Brit’s voice was getting smaller each time she spoke. I looked back at her and waved her over.
“Looks like a Buick Regal. A red Buick Regal. Theirs?”
Brit looked at me and sighed. Her head moved slightly. “Grandma’s. Grandpa always parks her car in the shed. Open the door so I can see.” Brit came forward and stood next to me. I stared down at her.
“It’s locked.”
Her face lit up the second she heard my words. “That’s great.” She jumped up and down, and then hugged me tight. I was missing something.
“Why is that great?” Brit’s smile got larger.
“Because they only ever lock that door when they’re gone somewhere. And not like just running into town to get groceries. Maybe they’re around here somewhere and just stayed there.” Brit started back for the road looking up and down the avenue. I trotted up next to her and grabbed her sweatshirt-covered arm.
“And just how would they get there? The car is in the garage. They got a helicopter you’re not telling me about?”
She gave me a look like I was the dumbest person on earth. “No. They took Grandpa’s truck.” That made more sense. “It’s an old truck and he doesn’t mind leaving it sitting somewhere when they take a trip. Like at a friend’s house. He doesn’t want the car to sit out in the ‘elements’ he always says.” Brit made her air quotes to emphasis Grandpa’s quirks. “But maybe they got stuck in town at a friend’s place before or after their trip.” She started running down the road. She looked back at me and called over her shoulder with a smile. “Come on, we need to go into town. I know where their best friends live.”
I convinced Brit to walk instead of run. Our energy was low enough without expending it unnecessarily. Town wasn’t going anywhere and it was still before noon as best as I could tell. We had plenty of daylight left to find these friends.
The town of Frederic shocked me. It was a time warp. If I didn’t know any better I would have sworn Brit and I had been transported back to the 1950s, to some sleepy version of pre-modern day America. Except for the lack of electricity and running vehicles, it seemed this small town was ignorant to what was going on outside the city limits. People were out watering gardens with buckets of cool water taken from a nearby creek, some kids passed us on bikes. Even the stores here appeared to be open. I thought maybe I was dreaming.
The dream ended abruptly when a policeman stopped us just as we began to get into the heart of town.
“Hello sir, miss.” The young man even tipped his hat to us. How quaint. “Can I see some identification please, sir?” I dug my wallet from my back pocket and handed him my driver’s license. He studied it carefully. “How can I help you today Mr. Carlson? What brings you to Frederic?” His voice was easy, and his posture told me I could expect no trouble from the man with a gun.
“Just passing through on my way to Bayfield. Looking for supplies right now.”
“And my grandparents.” Brit interrupted. “Joe and Wilma Forester. Do you know them?” The young cop smiled at Brit and looked away to think.
“Afraid not. Do they live here in town?” He looked at me, but Brit did the talking.
“No, they live just south on 293rd. You know where that is right?”
Yes, he knew where 293rd was but no, he didn’t know Grandma and Grandpa.
I looked at him seriously. “What’s the story with the houses down there? There’s like four or five of them, all in a row, burned to the ground.” His face lit up.
“Oh, that. Yeah. Road scum.” He spoke quickly. “They were giving us trouble out there. Picking on the residents, demanding food, shooting their livestock, tearing up their gardens. We went out there and chased them away. But they came back, with a vengeance. Those fires are a few days old. They should all be burned out by now I would think.” He covered his eyes from the sun and looked southwest in the direction of the houses. “A few still smoldering, I suppose. But the houses are gone, so the road scum left. We relocated all those folks with some residents here in town. Everyone’s okay. No one got hurt.” The officer seemed proud of his tale. He smiled at Brit and me.
“Where’d all those people go?” Brit sounded alarmed at this plan. She hadn’t been listening too closely I guess.
The officer smiled at the teen. “Don’t worry about them. They all got brought into town to stay with families or friends. They’re all just fine.” He patted Brit’s should
er as he finished.
“So who started the fires?” I had to ask.
He smiled more. “We did. After we got the people all loaded up, we decided to torch the places. That way that crap wouldn’t take up residence out there. Pretty good plan actually.” He nodded at Brit to show his brilliance.
I stared away and shook my aching head. “Except you burned down five homes, right?”
He shrugged. “If our people couldn’t stay there, no one will. Problem solved.”
These guys had thought of everything. Unless the power somehow came back on. Then they’d have five real pissed off families to deal with. I got back to our more immediate needs. I remembered I needed to tell this young officer some news. “By the way, out on 280th to the east and about a mile down, there’s a young boy there by himself. Some creep named John was doing awful things out there. It’s on the north side of the road. The only place with the front window shot out.”
Officer friendly nodded and jotted the information down on a notepad he had pulled from his front shirt pocket. “Okay. I’ll grab some men and head out that way. Thanks.” He started to walk away, so I caught his attention one last time.
“If it’s okay with you, we are going to go find a family that knows her grandparents.” The young man smiled and signaled his approval. “And then I need to get some supplies so I can continue on.” More smiling. He was gone. “Okay, thanks.” I started walking further into town. It took me a second, but noticed Brit wasn’t with me. I stopped and turned to call for her. She looked upset, again. “What?”
“You mean we, right?” I had no idea what she was talking about. “Me and you, right?” Brit’s arms were crossed in front of her chest. The fighting pose.
“What are you talking about?”
“We need to get some supplies so we can continue our trip.”
It finally dawned on me what her issue was. “Brit, we’re probably going to find your grandparents at their friend’s house. And even if they’re not there, you should probably stay with these folks. Just in case they do come back.” Her frown hardened. “Brit, I’ve got another 100 plus miles to go. And we both know what the road will be like. You need safety, I need Bayfield.” I tried to put a positive spin on it.
Brit walked towards me quickly, determined. “We, period. They’re not here. I know it. If they are, I’ll stay. If they’re not, I’m coming with you.” I went to say something but she stopped me. “No. No. I’m not going to be left here all alone. No way. I don’t really have a mom, and I sure as hell don’t have a dad. I’m an only child of an only child. You are a decent person. I deserve you. Maybe you deserve better than me, but I deserve you. You know it.” Tears began to trickle down Brit’s face. She stepped closer.
“What am I supposed to do with a 14-year-old girl, Brit?” I tried to smile but it wouldn’t come. “I haven’t been a real good husband. I’m an okay dad, but there’s better. I don’t have any idea what I’m going to find in Bayfield. If I ever get to Bayfield. God only knows what the road ahead is like.” She listened patiently as I ticked off my list. “I have a gun with three bullets. Don’t have transportation yet. Need more supplies. Need food real bad now. What are you looking for, Brit?”
Her face took on a small grin. “Just take me with. Don’t leave me here alone. I’d rather be with you than strangers. At least I know you’ll protect me, you’ll look out for me and take care of me. The last five days have proven that. I know you probably don’t see it like I do. But I think we’re family now. You’re the best dad I could hope for.”
That one hit me hard. I choked up before I could respond, then regained my composure. “Okay, I’ll make you a deal. If they’re not here, or close by, we’ll stick together. If they’re here, we go our separate ways, okay?” I turned to look down Main Street for options.
Brit grabbed my arm and turned me to face her. “I have a request before we go any further. Two things.” Her eyes twinkled as she looked down for a second. “Two more very small things.” I waited as she thought of what she would say next. “First, from now on you call me Britney.” I tried to interrupt that I thought that was only for family. She shushed me and continued. “And I get to call you Dad. Okay? Deal?” She stuck her small, dirty right hand my direction.
I stared at it in silence. Finally, I looked at her face. “Okay, deal.” I shook her hand. “If we continue on together I can live with that.” Brit came forward and hugged me with all the strength she had left. I squeezed her hard in return. It was a fairly good deal for both parties, if we stayed together. But I had my doubts.
She spoke in almost a whisper. “They’re in Pennsylvania.”
I looked down at her. “What?”
“They were taking a trip to Pennsylvania this month. Amish country. I remembered when we were talking to that cop. Grandpa’s truck will be at his friend’s house. But they’re gone. At least we’ll get a meal or two before we leave.” Again she emphasized the we parts of her sentence. I was dumfounded. I had been suckered into this by the very best.
“You tricked me. You lied.”
Brit, now Britney, broadly smiled back at me. “Sort of, not really though. You lied first. Telling those guys to head west instead of east. And you know you would have taken me with you either way. I knew you wouldn’t leave me behind. We make a good team. And at least I can hit something with that gun. You’re kinda wild.” She poked me in the ribs. “Admit it, I’ve grown on you.”
I looked around town, digesting her words. “We either need to find food somewhere or these friends of your grandparents. I need to eat. I bet you do, too.” She spun and led me in the direction of the friends.
As promised, the truck was there but no grandparents. Will Jensen had run them to the airport three days before the world went dark. Joe and Wilma were most likely living the good life with the Amish now. At least that was Will’s way of thinking. Plenty to eat and drink with no need for something the Amish had never had – electricity.
Will and his wife Betty fed us and gave us a soft bed that evening. They were wonderful, kind, older folks. The sort you’d expect to find in a small town like Frederic. Will told Britney and me where to get what we needed for our trip. Though Betty wished we would consider staying with them. She said she’d feel better if we did. Britney politely declined, but promised that we’d come back some day, if we could.
Prices were reasonable in Frederic, all things considered. Everyone knew Britney’s grandfather and his best buddy, Will. Just mentioning their names helped negotiate the best deals available. We got two used bikes, two backpacks, an assortment of used clothing, food and medical supplies. We got all we could carry, plus a little more, for just over $300. I had expected to give up every last dollar in my pocket.
We stayed two extra days with the Jensens. Two extra days that helped replenish our strength, helped us get some much-needed extra sleep and four extra meals. On the morning of our fifth day in Frederic, Britney and I mounted our bikes and began our journey to Bayfield. Our departure went mostly unnoticed. Except for the tears from Betty Jensen. On the road we were just a father and his daughter making their way home.
Chapter 35