Azuara's Road House

Wednesday:

Looking out of the big window, Skye watched the road for any sign of...well, anything. For a few days after the announcement of the virus, things had been relatively normal, although gradually, fewer and fewer people had come in. But by Monday her father had fallen ill and his decline had been alarmingly fast. Within the day, he had died, leaving her stunned and alone, but not one to languish, she had returned to the restaurant her father owned and kept working. Although she was mourning, it helped her to stay sane and kept her mind off what was going on.

Things were dire, that was certain, the small town was nearly deserted, and even the traffic on nearby I25, running between Nashville and St. Louis, was sparse. Still, a few folks straggled in here and there, locals and travelers, so she kept the coffee fresh and the grille hot.

With a sigh, she looked around the empty restaurant, knowing that if something didn't change she wouldn't be able to keep it running. Of course, if things didn't change, there wouldn't really be a point. She straightened and walked into the back, changing the radio station from country music to a news channel, then stepped outside where her father's dog, Chump, was basking in the sun. The dog jumped up as she came out, his tail wagging excitedly. The small Australian Shepherd knew something was wrong and was more affectionate than usual.

"Hey, there." Crouching, Skye scratched the dog's ears, holding back tears. "It's going to be all right. We'll manage somehow." As she stood, she let out a long breath, fear and despair washing over her. There was no doubt that her world was changing and she had no idea what she was going to do.

A ringing from the cafe caught her attention, so she gave the dog a final pat, then hurried back in. "Just a minute!" she called, pausing in the kitchen to wash her hands before heading into the dining room. She immediately recognized the man there, one of the older residents who did odd jobs on the side. "Hi, Frank!" Putting on a cheery smile, she nodded to the man, then poured him a cup of coffee. "On the house."

"Thanks, Miss Skye." There was no smile as he accepted the mug. "I'm on my way out," he muttered wearily, looking up at her with sad eyes. "There's nothing here anymore, and it's just going to get worse. You should go, too." Before she could answer, he added, "And it was all a conspiracy, did you know that?" He shook his head. "They just announced it on the radio...someone did this on purpose."

"Purpose?" Skye felt her head start to spin and she had to grab the counter for support. "Why would anyone..?"

A question that likely would not be answered for some time, if ever...

Running On Empty

Jackson Lane Burton set the black trucker’s cap on his head and pulled it firmly into place. It was Wednesday, and it was bad. The sick people he had left in Daytona were now turning into dead people. He had dropped a load in Valdosta Georgia and picked up another which was bound for Atlanta, and yet another that would take him almost home. Highway I-24 was like an old friend.

He walked around the trailer, the place was just about desolate. Much the same as the highways. Though increasingly there were cars , trucks, big rigs and even a bus off the road. He hadn’t stopped for any of them because there was nothing he could do but continue on. Continue on toward home.

He snapped the clam shell cell phone shut, tired of the continual warbling sound that meant the line was open, as in, off the cradle. Jack climbed in the cab and pulled the door shut, strapping in as he pulled the shift lever into gear. A quick glance in the rear view told him no on was coming up on him as he stepped on the gas and eased out the clutch. The Peterbuilt 389 responded taking him back on the highway.

“Phone.” He said, again thinking the trucks phone and the power behind it might be better than his cell. He was sure almost anything would be better than that. And he wouldn’t have tried if he hadn’t had to pause for the cause. “Home.” he ordered and the mechanism auto-dialed his residence. It rang. It rang for the next five miles. No one answered. Maybe Liz and Phil were at her moms. But inside he knew better. “End call.” The line clicked. “Raith.” He ordered. He should check in.

“Raith Trucking, Burl speaking.”

“Burl, it’s Jack Burton. How are things there.” He asked as he steered around a car sitting in the middle of the empty highway.

“Jack, there’s nobody here, those that could have left, the others, dying. I’m just waiting to get sick.” Burl replied sounding despondent. “My family Jack, my family.” It was a gunshot pure and simple.

"Damn it!” He swore as he saw the sign, ‘Kuttawa Kentucky 2 miles.’ He needed fuel and food if Azuara's Road House was still open. The fuel would likely be no problem, he had a company card for that and the pumps were never locked. With everyone on the run, why would they bother? He began gearing down for the off ramp.

At the bottom he made the turn and saw a car pulling out as he pulled in, up to the diesel pumps. He shut down, unbuckled and opened the door, slipping out of the truck. In a few steps he was opening the door and stepping inside. “Hi.” He said to the girl. “Can I get something to eat?”

Skye looked up as the truck pulled up to the pumps, the noise pulling her back to the present. As the trucker came in, she smiled and nodded. "Afternoon, Jack, right?" She'd seen him from time to time, one of the many drivers who chose the family-run diner over the bigger chain stop at the interchange. He was always friendly and polite, and a good tipper!

"Sure, we're open. Go ahead and have a seat." She waved vaguely to the empty tables, not able to conceal the concern in her voice. "Um, the grille is open, but anything else isn't available today. Did you want some coffee to start?"

"Afternoon, Jack, right?" She'd seen him from time to time, one of the many drivers who chose the family-run diner over the bigger chain stop at the interchange. He was always friendly and polite, and a good tipper!

“Yep. And you’re Skye.” Jack said as he straddled a stool.

"Sure, we're open. Go ahead and have a seat." She waved vaguely to the empty tables, not able to conceal the concern in her voice. "Um, the grille is open, but anything else isn't available today. Did you want some coffee to start?"

“Yah, coffee’d be real good right about now, and as for food, I’m none to particular, just need something to eat.” He responded, pushing the hat back. “Where’s Paulo, and why hasn’t he gotten you out of here?”

“Yah, coffee’d be real good right about now, and as for food, I’m none to particular, just need something to eat.” He responded, pushing the hat back.

"Anything, huh?" She offered a genuine smile as she relaxed a bit. "I think I can handle that."

“Where’s Paulo, and why hasn’t he gotten you out of here?”

"Dad's...um..." Taking a deep breath, she glanced down. "He died a couple days ago...the virus got him, and with all his other medical conditions..." Leaning on the counter, she looked up at him. "I'm trying to keep the place open...for him, you know?"

Suddenly, she turned away, blinking tears. "I'll get that order started for you."

"Anything, huh?" She offered a genuine smile as she relaxed a bit. "I think I can handle that."

“Where’s Paulo, and why hasn’t he gotten you out of here?”

"Dad's...um..." Taking a deep breath, she glanced down. "He died a couple days ago...the virus got him, and with all his other medical conditions..." Leaning on the counter, she looked up at him. "I'm trying to keep the place open...for him, you know?"

Suddenly, she turned away, blinking tears. "I'll get that order started for you."

“I . . . I’m sorry Skye.” He paused. “So many." He paused again, a catch in his voice. "I’ve been trying to call home, and my folks too for a couple days now, nothing. I’d like to hope, but in light of how this virus thing’s been going, well, seems foolish. I think I would have heard from them by now if they had gone someplace.” he stopped talking as the idea of going someplace safe was simply out of the question. “Look Skye, it won’t be long and the bad elements will be out. A place like this, easy pickin's for whatever they’d want. Come with me, get away from here. I know this place has meaning for you, but if you’re not sick, well, I don’t think either one of us will come down with it . . . and we’re not the only ones."

“I . . . I’m sorry Skye.” He paused. “So many." He paused again, a catch in his voice. "I’ve been trying to call home, and my folks too for a couple days now, nothing. I’d like to hope, but in light of how this virus thing’s been going, well, seems foolish. I think I would have heard from them by now if they had gone someplace.” he stopped talking as the idea of going someplace safe was simply out of the question.

She turned back to him, hurriedly wiping her eyes as she looked at him. Of course she wasn't alone in this, and others had their pain as well. At least she knew for certain what had happened and didn't have to speculate a thousand miles from home. And neither of them had taken time to grieve...there wasn't the luxury of the time for such things, they both had to survive.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, putting her hand gently over his, as much a comfort to herself as to him.

“Look Skye, it won’t be long and the bad elements will be out. A place like this, easy pickin's for whatever they’d want. Come with me, get away from here. I know this place has meaning for you, but if you’re not sick, well, I don’t think either one of us will come down with it . . . and we’re not the only ones."

"Oh, no, I couldn't..." She took a step back, her dismay not at who was asking, but what he was asking. "This is home, and..."

"He'd right, Missy," Frank spoke up, looking over his cup of coffee. "No one's going to be left here in a few days. Take the offer while you can." He shrugged. "Lock up and come back when it's over."

Looking from one man to the other, she saw the sense in it, but still, it was sudden and drastic. "I...what about Chump? I can't leave him here..." An excuse, flimsy though it was. "He's dad's old sheep dog, he'd...starve."

“I know this place has meaning for you, but if you’re not sick, well, I don’t think either one of us will come down with it . . . and we’re not the only ones."

"Oh, no, I couldn't..." She took a step back, her dismay not at who was asking, but what he was asking. "This is home, and..."

"He'd right, Missy," Frank spoke up, looking over his cup of coffee. "No one's going to be left here in a few days. Take the offer while you can." He shrugged. "Lock up and come back when it's over."

Jack nodded as the man spoke. He knew this would not be the easiest of decisions, but he was genuinely concerned about the caliber of some of those that may have survived.

Looking from one man to the other, she saw the sense in it, but still, it was sudden and drastic. "I...what about Chump? I can't leave him here..." An excuse, flimsy though it was. "He's dad's old sheep dog, he'd...starve."

“We’ll take him, there’s room in the cab.” He heard himself say. “He’ll make it tight, but you need to be out of this place, right Frank?" Then. "Skye, there will be people that will be bent on having and taking what they want. There won’t be anything or anyone to stop them. Not for a while anyway.” If ever he was thinking, but couldn't outright say it.

Looking from one man to the other, Skye hesitated, then finally muttered, "Let me get your food while I think about it." As she turned away, she offered an uncertain smile. There was so much to consider. But then, there really wasn't. Choices were limited, and while she had her father's truck and could leave any time, but then she would be alone and not much safer than if she stayed here.

Finally returning to the counter, she set a deluxe jalapeno burger with potato salad in front of him, then nodded. "All right, but I'll have to pack and lock up. It'll take a while, but I'll hurry as much as I can."

Looking from one man to the other, Skye hesitated, then finally muttered, "Let me get your food while I think about it." As she turned away, she offered an uncertain smile. There was so much to consider. But then, there really wasn't. Choices were limited, and while she had her father's truck and could leave any time, but then she would be alone and not much safer than if she stayed here.

Jack smiled, though he had little to smile about. “Sure, we still have to eat.” He was hoping she would see the logic in leaving, not that he believed he could guarantee anything, but they would be better off together, whatever happened.

Finally returning to the counter, she set a deluxe jalapeno burger with potato salad in front of him, then nodded. "All right, but I'll have to pack and lock up. It'll take a while, but I'll hurry as much as I can."

Jack turned to the man drinking coffee. “So Frank, are you getting out?” he paused. “Henson’s across the road there, he still in business, or has he left or worse? Need to get some ammunition.” In his mind he was already dropping Piggly-Wiggly’s trailer, he’d be able to move faster without it and speed might be an ally in the not to distant future.

Jack turned to the man drinking coffee. “So Frank, are you getting out?” he paused.

"Not yet." The old man shook his head, watching as Skye headed out the back to the house that was behind the cafe, her shoulders slumped. "Was born an' raised in these parts, can't see runnin' out now. But you're right about that gal. This won't be no place for her, and I doubt anyone else'll come along who'll look after her good."

“Henson’s across the road there, he still in business, or has he left or worse? Need to get some ammunition.” In his mind he was already dropping Piggly-Wiggly’s trailer, he’d be able to move faster without it and speed might be an ally in the not to distant future.

"He's in town...not open, though. I can give him a call and have him open up for you, though. Head on over and I'll make sure he's waiting."

“Henson’s across the road there, he still in business, or has he left or worse? Need to get some ammunition.” In his mind he was already dropping Piggly-Wiggly’s trailer, he’d be able to move faster without it and speed might be an ally in the not to distant future.

"He's in town...not open, though. I can give him a call and have him open up for you, though. Head on over and I'll make sure he's waiting."

“Give him a call, I can go when he’s ready.” Was Jack’s reply. Wondering why a man would stay, then in the same thought, understanding. Why was he headed home? Why wasn’t he heading west where possibly the virus hadn’t reached yet, or might not reach at all? Of course he was speculating, not having watched any news, nor had he been listening to the radio. What he was seeing on the road was more than enough information for him. But a couple of questions wouldn’t hurt. “Frank, I’ve not been listening to the news, and I’ve not seen any TV either. What’s the President saying about this? I mean . . . how bad is it and how far has this thing spread?”

The old man looked over at him, sadness and a hint of fear in his eyes. "You don't know? President is dead...VP's close. It's bad, real bad, and it's world-wide." Sighing, he shook his head. "And someone apparently did it on purpose. Why the hell would someone do that?"

The old man looked over at him, sadness and a hint of fear in his eyes. "You don't know? President is dead...VP's close. It's bad, real bad, and it's world-wide." Sighing, he shook his head. "And someone apparently did it on purpose. Why the hell would someone do that?"

Jack was stunned. “Jesus Christ!” He exclaimed. What whacko would do something like that? I mean us, yah I . . I can see that. But the whole freakin’ world?” He shook his head slowly. An attack on the whole world! “Frank, if your right, then they’ll be coming for the rest of us, some way some how, and I doubt it will be with troops. Not sure where they would get them, unless, like us they’re immune. Nah, nah they couldn't amass that many troops to sweep the globe for survivors.” He didn’t know what to think. “Best we see about the ammunition, and maybe you best arm up.”

Jack was stunned. “Jesus Christ!” He exclaimed. "What whacko would do something like that? I mean us, yah I . . I can see that. But the whole freakin’ world?” He shook his head slowly. An attack on the whole world!

"Sad day," Frank muttered, staring into his coffee. "Don't know what's going to happen."

“Frank, if your right, then they’ll be coming for the rest of us, some way some how, and I doubt it will be with troops. Not sure where they would get them, unless, like us they’re immune. Nah, nah they couldn't amass that many troops to sweep the globe for survivors.” He didn’t know what to think. “Best we see about the ammunition, and maybe you best arm up.”

A slow grin spread across the old man's face. "I'm ready," he muttered quietly, "don't you worry." Then he stood and started around the counter. "Why don't you head on over there and I'll give Henson a call..?"

An attack on the whole world!

"Sad day," Frank muttered, staring into his coffee. "Don't know what's going to happen."

“Frank, if your right, then they’ll be coming for the rest of us, some way some how, and I doubt it will be with troops. Not sure where they would get them, unless, like us they’re immune. Nah, nah they couldn't amass that many troops to sweep the globe for survivors.” He didn’t know what to think. “Best we see about the ammunition, and maybe you best arm up.”

A slow grin spread across the old man's face. "I'm ready," he muttered quietly, "don't you worry." Then he stood and started around the counter. "Why don't you head on over there and I'll give Henson a call..?"

“I’ll do that, maybe drop that trailer I’m draggin’ behind me. Probably filled with food stuffs. Can goods and the like.” Jack agreed getting off the stool. “Skye comes back, well, tell her to toss her stuff and the dog in the sleeper and climb on in. I’ll meet you over at Henson’s.”

Jack bounded out the door, forgetting the food, for the moment. He went right to work and in a matter of minutes had the trailer dropped. All he needed to do was drive out from under it. He paused a moment and looked. Well, the truck, a 2011 Peterbuilt 389, was one of the companies newest, so he’d lucked out there. She was big, fast and had a sleeper that was huge. He went to the cab and took his Browning 1911 automatic out of the glove box and jamming it in his waist band, then jogged toward the store.

'Down Range' Gun Store:

Tim Hanson shuffled slowly across the street, a handkerchief held to his mouth. Occasionally, he would stop, overcome by fits of coughing, before continuing on his way. He was a young man, had been doing well in his life with the gun business, despite the location in such a small town, things had been looking good...until he got sick. It had only been a day, but he was rapidly declining, and he was practical enough to know that the outlook wasn't good.

So when Frank called about someone wanting supplies, he had gladly made his way to his shop, hoping to help in whatever way he could...after all, he likely wasn't going to be needing it soon...

Standing in the doorway of the house, Skye looked around the silent interior, feeling a sense of loss and emptiness. This was her home, a place of refuge and safety, of happiness and love, and now she was leaving, walking away from her life.

Of course, with her father gone it wouldn't be the same anyway, and that made it a little easier to leave. But still, there was so much here, so many memories that would have to be left behind, and she could only hope that they would be here when she got back.

Sighing, she looked down at the old dog sitting patiently beside her, seeming to sense her dismay. "Well, Chump," she muttered,"we'd best get to this." Gathering things for the dog would be easy, but for herself...Clothes, of course, ant toiletries, her pillow was a must and she put some blankets in a pile in case Jack thought they might be needed.

Then there were the other things -- photo albums, journals, letters her parents had written while her dad was in Viet Nam, the family Bible, her mother's mandolin -- things she had to take. There were other things as well, keepsakes, heirlooms, knick-knacks that had been gathered over the years, frivolities that held no value beyond sentiment. She had to be frugal, she knew, yet she allowed herself the luxury of a few of these things, what would fit into a shoebox. Among them she collected her father's Purple Heart, a medal he had won at sheepdog trials, his pipe, that still smelled of the cherry tobacco he preferred, the topper from her parents' wedding cake and a few little figurines.

Finally, she had a smile pile -- two suitcases and a duffel, the blankets and dog food. She'd ask Jack about food. They could take whatever non-perishables they could find from the cafe...who knew what they might -- or might not-- find along the way, with services failing. Food might be as good as money.

Taking a last look around, she belatedly grabbed an old, well-worn teddy bear, then pulled the door shut and pocketed the key.

'Down Range' Gun Store:

Tim Hanson shuffled slowly across the street, a handkerchief held to his mouth. Occasionally, he would stop, overcome by fits of coughing, before continuing on his way. He was a young man, had been doing well in his life with the gun business, despite the location in such a small town, things had been looking good...until he got sick. It had only been a day, but he was rapidly declining, and he was practical enough to know that the outlook wasn't good.

So when Frank called about someone wanting supplies, he had gladly made his way to his shop, hoping to help in whatever way he could...after all, he likely wasn't going to be needing it soon...

Jack was standing at the door when he saw the man making his way across the street. This would be the owner, and he looked sick, which did not look good. And from what Frank had told him, it was getting ugly and . . . it appeared that it would get uglier. In his mind there were weapons he wanted, but here in Kuttawa Kentucky, no telling what would be on the shelves, but he had money and, glancing across the street, trade value in a trailer load of food stuffs. Non-perishables. If the man was in a trading mood.

"Hello. Jack Burton's the name, need some ammo . . . and some guns.” Jack said extending his hand. Knowing that for some untold reason, he was immune to whatever this virus was. It would take more than a handshake to take him down at this point.

'Down Range' Gun Store:

"Hello. Jack Burton's the name, need some ammo . . . and some guns.” Jack said extending his hand. Knowing that for some untold reason, he was immune to whatever this virus was. It would take more than a handshake to take him down at this point.

"Tim Hanson." He nodded to Jack, but didn't take the hand. "Got a bit of a cold," he wrote off the truth with a shrug. "If you need guns and ammo, this is the place." Offering a weak smile, he opened the door and stood back to let Jack in. "Anything in particular you were looking for?" He nodded to the cases, following Jack inside.

'Down Range' Gun Store:

"Hello. Jack Burton's the name, need some ammo . . . and some guns.” Jack said extending his hand. Knowing that for some untold reason, he was immune to whatever this virus was. It would take more than a handshake to take him down at this point.

"Tim Hanson." He nodded to Jack, but didn't take the hand. "Got a bit of a cold," he wrote off the truth with a shrug. "If you need guns and ammo, this is the place." Offering a weak smile, he opened the door and stood back to let Jack in. "Anything in particular you were looking for?" He nodded to the cases, following Jack inside.

“Well Mister Hanson, I’ll be straight up with you, sir.” Jack began. “I’ve some money, but I have a feeling it of itself is about to be obsolete.” He withdrew a ring with two brass keys on it and held them up. “Now, across the road sits a twenty-two foot trailer full of canned goods and boxed food stuffs. All you need is a fork lift, the ramps are inside, and a man to unload what you want. Probably be a good idea to stash what you unload some place safe.” He raised his arm halfway, palms up with a smirkish smile, as if to say ‘so.’

Tim looked at him for a moment, then nodded, taking the keys. He didn't have much time left for himself, but Frank seemed to be healthy and he knew the old man would do right by the supplies. "All right, then. Keys for keys." He handed Jack his own set of keys. "There's a key for everything there. Help yourself."

Tim looked at him for a moment, then nodded, taking the keys. He didn't have much time left for himself, but Frank seemed to be healthy and he knew the old man would do right by the supplies. "All right, then. Keys for keys." He handed Jack his own set of keys. "There's a key for everything there. Help yourself."

Jacks eyes popped wide open, he hadn’t meant a ‘keys for keys’ trade, but, he knew that Tim wasn’t fooling himself. He looked around and saw a hand truck under a stack of boxes it had moved, he tilted it and slipped it out, looking at the stack, all ammunition. He set two cases of forty-five APC rounds back on the dolly and then looked to where the other ammo was.

It didn’t take jack long to accumulate 2 Winchester Super X pump shotguns, another Springfield Armory forty-five automatic. A half dozen clips, a Lady Smith nine millimeter and two cases of ammo, several clips, and Tim’s own two-twenty-three Bushmaster LE M-4 police model, a dozen magazines and tree cases of ammunition. And lastly, a pair of 10X70 binoculars. All of this was on a flat dolly. Instead of the hand truck.

“Tim, thank you. Hopefully I won’t need any of this.” Jack said. “Frank, here’s the change.” He tossed the old man the keys to the store. “You might want to arm anyone who’s not sick. Just in case.” He gave the dolly a push. “Best get moving, I have a lady waiting.”

“Tim, thank you. Hopefully I won’t need any of this.” Jack said. “Frank, here’s the change.” He tossed the old man the keys to the store. “You might want to arm anyone who’s not sick. Just in case.” He gave the dolly a push. “Best get moving, I have a lady waiting.”

Frank too the keys and looked up at Jack, sadness in his old eyes. The more incidents like this that occurred the more it drove home how real the situation was, and how dire. He was smart enough to know that his world would never be the same again, and that for the younger survivors it would be a very long time before they were anywhere near 'normal'.

"Thanks, we'll do what we can here," he commented, glancing back toward the cafe as he dropped the keys into his pocket along with the ones to the restaurant and house behind that Skye had entrusted him with.

Across the street, Skye was at the truck, loading in her gear. She had found that the big vehicle was a bit overwhelming, so she had to set her things on the floor, then climb in and put them into the compartment. She was draped over the seat, trying to stack the cases so that they were more organized and took up less space...she didn't want Jack to think she was a slob, but negotiating the awkward space wasn't easy.

Meanwhile, Chump trotted over to greet the driver, his tail wagging mightily as he sniffed at the containers on the dolly.

Frank took the keys and looked up at Jack, sadness in his old eyes. The more incidents like this that occurred the more it drove home how real the situation was, and how dire. He was smart enough to know that his world would never be the same again, and that for the younger survivors it would be a very long time before they were anywhere near 'normal'.

"Thanks, we'll do what we can here," he commented, glancing back toward the cafe as he dropped the keys into his pocket along with the ones to the restaurant and house behind that Skye had entrusted him with.

Jack stuck out his hand. “I know you will. Hopefully we’ll be back before you know it.” He lied, knowing Frank didn’t believe it either. Hope, however weak, was still a necessity. “Be seeing you. Thanks again Tim.”

Across the street, Skye was at the truck, loading in her gear. She had found that the big vehicle was a bit overwhelming, so she had to set her things on the floor, then climb in and put them into the compartment. She was draped over the seat, trying to stack the cases so that they were more organized and took up less space...she didn't want Jack to think she was a slob, but negotiating the awkward space wasn't easy.

Meanwhile, Chump trotted over to greet the driver, his tail wagging mightily as he sniffed at the containers on the dolly.

“Hello boy. Well, c’mon, we have us a trip to make.” He said to the dog and began pushing the cart across the street to his truck. “Whoa, hey, Skye! Hold on. There’s storage underneath for the bulk of what you don’t need right away.” He got to the truck. “Gimme a second to load most of this and I’ll help you out up there.” He opened a storage compartment and began shoving the ammunition into it, withholding what he would need to load the weapons, and some back up clips. He stepped up and opened the drivers door, then loaded the shotguns and the M4 in the seat. “Hey, really, plenty of room below. I’ll be around the other side.” he said as he laid the Lady Smith and the back up forty-five next to the long guns. He stepped down and jogged around the truck. “Hand me what I can put under here. There’s some food right? And I hope, some coffee.”