21 June 20XX +1
My Dear Lucilius:
The service road was about what I recalled it to be from years ago when, in a burst of outdoor enthusiasm, I took my family up over this way to see the fish hatchery on the other end of the road. The main road – the road we were to march on later today – was closed and the map claimed we should be able to make our way over. And maps would have no reason to lie, would they?
It was not as disastrous as it could have been, but neither was it without impact, as the suspension on the minivan stated to me after the fact in the repair shop. It was apparently concerning enough to my passengers that years later, a family member commented that they had been a little concerned that we were going to make it at all. And the road then had not been exposed to the years’ long impact of decreased budgets for such things as it likely was now.
The ascent was smooth enough; the road lead to a small lake and this was pretty well traveled even up to the last year of normality. It was only when we got the crest that the true impact was revealed.
The cuts and rocks and ruts in the road bounced us up and down and into each other and our things even at the low speed of our descent. The bed of the truck rocked back and forth, brakes continuing to engage as our driver continually swerved to miss the worst of it. The speed was low for which I was grateful; doing this at “driving speed” would have been as dangerous as it would have been nausea inducing.
By the time we reached the bottom of the hill and pulled onto blacktop which was clearly of relatively new furbishing (the “Your Tax Dollars at Work” sign was still just up the road a bit), I suspect we were all grateful for the end of our trek. Surely, whatever we had ahead of us could not be as jarring at that.
It also made me think that perhaps I had not missed driving or riding all that much.
As we pulled our packs out of truck beds and pummeled them into some kind of order, the Colonel pulled us in. 10 miles to town, he said; the locals had found a place for us to overnight and we would execute the next stage of the plan from there. And although we were in “friendly” territory we should carry ourselves as if we were not – although there was no evidence any of The Locusts had crossed the river, no-one could be 100% sure.
With packs on and so instructed, we set off.
A little over a year of limited to no motorized transport does tend to toughen a person up a bit for a long walk; the fact that the road was largely flat was helpful as well. The trees flickered the leaves gaily in the light wind and the river beside the road burbled along as we walked, semi-strung out in a line. The Colonel was somewhere about, the Captain long gone with the lead elements and point scouts.
It would have been a good day for walk even a year ago and, if one ignored the weapons on and about everyone, one could envision this being the sort of hike I had done once upon a time, surrounded by nature and nature’s voices, the low occasional conversation punctuating the sounds of people walking and the muffled sounds of packs shifting. If I closed my eyes, I could almost hear those times.
Almost.
Your Obedient Servant, Seneca
Suspense is building . . . . . . .
ReplyDeleteLeigh, I am wondering how much this is all weighing on Seneca's mind. At some point one stops focusing on one's surroundings as one has not choice. That cut-off is likely coming soon for all of them.
DeleteAlmost a "hike" and yet not TB. Different intent makes for the difference with ranks and Locusts providing a glimpse of what's coming.
ReplyDeleteNylon12, the great quote of Clauswitz - War is politics by other means - maybe applies to a lot of activities in that they potential had (or have) application. Hiking is probably one of those things.
DeleteI do wonder what they will find when they arrive at the place they are staying for the night and get local intelligence. Somehow, the real information never makes it to you before you are actually "there".
Marching to a probable battle does tend to sharpen up the senses. Many soldiers when beginning a march jumped up and down with their loads to find the items which made noise, then took steps to fix that. Objects which shine in sunlight would be removed and hidden better.
ReplyDeleteI have never marched to battle, but I have hiked - and we have done the same thing (other than removing shiny objects, of course) as we go. Nothing more annoying that a squeak that lasts 8 miles - and that is without the concern of being attacked.
DeleteYears ago, I started watching "The Walking Dead" and it caused me to ponder the after affects of a world disaster with roads jammed up with abandoned cars. I get the sense that the disaster in Seneca's life was a bit slower arriving since they aren't dealing with cars abandoned everywhere.
ReplyDeleteI ended up giving up on "The Walking Dead" several years ago. It just got repetitive and became less about survival and more about warring between factions.
Ed, I think it is a slower breakdown - which is what I would anticipate in an economic breakdown when the settling is slow. I am certain there would be cars such as you describe much closer to city limits. In this case, the actual location is far enough and off the beaten path enough that few if any people would likely have made it that far. Likely the interstate by the big city looks much more like that.
DeleteI have never seen an episode of The Walking Dead. The premise never really caught me - odd, as I am really a sort of apocalyptic fiction lover.
Early in this series the Government came around confiscating automobiles. I remember Seneca getting a rifle pointed over that fact.
ReplyDeleteIf you're in-survival mode a few salvage automobiles are quite the gold mine. Even more if you find the dry mix (or dry batteries) for battery acid in an auto shop.
Indeed he did Michael. I believe he fully intends to collect on that as well someday.
DeleteThe sorts of trucks in this story likely are in such an outward condition that no-one would give them a second glance as anything other than scrap. We certainly have one of those at The Ranch.