Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Two
No Good Options
ZACH
We wake up before dawn the next day, prepared to leave. Curtis cooks up a wonderful breakfast to send us off. But nobody is in a chatty mood. I stare down at my food for nearly the entire meal. Curtis has been such a good friend, and I’ll miss him.
As we finish the last bites, Curtis breaks the silence. “Boys, there’s one more thing I need to tell you.”
Aiden and I look up. Curtis’s eyebrows wrinkle, and his face is strained.
“There’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll blurt it right out. I’m not long for this world.”
My chest tightens. “Don’t talk like that. You’ve got years ahead of you.” I search his eyes for reassurance.
“I’m afraid not. Just before the Great Collapse, I was diagnosed with stage four liver cancer. The doctor said I had six months tops. I’ve beat that by a long shot, but I can tell things are getting worse. At this point, every day is a gift.” He lets out a little laugh, but his eyes look glassy.
I reach over and hug him.
“Oh, Curtis, I’m so sorry,” Aiden joins in.
“Hey, I’ve had a good life. And helping you two out has meant a lot to me. I have few regrets.”
The tears are flowing freely now, and Aiden looks the same. I’ve only known Curtis for a few days, but he’s one of the kindest and most gentle people I’ve ever met.
“What I said earlier about you two coming back? I meant it. When you’re finished doing whatever it is you need to do, this place can be yours. I’d be happy to know there’d be somebody caring for it.”
“We’d like that,” I say, and Aiden nods in agreement.
“And please, don’t forget to deliver that letter,” Curtis says.
I tap the left breast pocket of my jacket, where I’ve stowed the letter. “I won’t forget.”
Curtis is generous to a fault. He outfits us with a new backpack to make up for our lost one. He stocks it full of food that will travel well. Cured meat, hard cheeses, and some fruits and vegetables. He also gives me a vial filled with oral antibiotics to ensure I fully recover from my leg wound.
We gather outside as the sun peaks over the horizon. There’s no more delaying. Now is the time we must leave. Aiden gives Curtis a big hug, and I follow suit.
“Thank you so much for everything,” I say, burying my face in his shoulder.
“I only did what any other decent person would do.”
There’s not a dry eye among us.
As we start to walk away, Curtis yells out to us. “Watch out for those nasty folks looking for you. Stay clear of the main roads and freeways. And always watch your back.”
“We’ve been dodging these guys since Montana,” Aiden says. “We’ll keep our eyes open.”
Curtis’s face looks grave when he hears this. “Be careful, you two. I couldn’t stand the thought of anything happening to you.”
“We will,” I say, giving Curtis a reassuring nod.
As we head into the forest, on the way to the trail, we both stop to look back. Curtis stands at the edge of the farm, watching us leave. He gives us one last wave, and we wave back. Then we turn and head off into the trees.
*
Hiking along the trail is easier than ever. Perhaps it’s because I’m healed and well-rested. Perhaps it’s because I’m with the guy I love. And yes, I love him. I’m not ready to say it out loud yet. I don’t want to add more pressure on him, but the feeling is unmistakable.
The trail continues along the Yakima River, matching each curve. The river is tranquil, with the smallest current creating swirls and eddies. Farmlands give way to woods as we approach the eastern side of the Cascade foothills.
After a few hours, our trail goes under a freeway overpass. We cross Interstate 90 again. After our last near miss, we approach the intersection with care. We keep our eyes and ears open for cars, ready to jump off the trail should one come.
Just as we pass I-90, a loud rustling comes from the forest. We swing around. Aiden reaches for his rifle. The underbrush moves, and I expect to see either an Infected or the faces of Connor, Wayne, and Tyra running at us with guns blazing.
Instead, a large buck jumps out, so close he almost knocks us over. He stands on the trail, staring us down, looking startled but ready to defend himself. We all stand motionless, each staring into the other’s eyes.
The buck moves first, turning and bounding off back into the forest. In an instant, he’s gone.
Aiden and I face each other, our eyes wide, mouths open.
“Did we just get spooked by Bambi?” I say with a straight face.
We both crack a smile. And then a rabbit jumps out of the forest, sees us, then scurries back to where it came from, terrified.
“Thumper?” Aiden asks.
And that’s it. We both lose it, laughing uncontrollably. I love Aiden’s laugh so much. Hearing it makes me laugh harder. At some point, I end up rolling on the grass on the side of the trail, clutching my stomach and gasping for air.
Aiden lands beside me, smiling and giggling. Our giggles trail off, and we lie on the ground facing each other, hands pawing at each other’s bodies.
Aiden has a silly grin on his face. “I—um—I like you so much.”
Did he almost say love?
“Me too.”
I go in for a soft kiss. It’s gentle and caring. Aiden brushes his hands through my hair as our lips press together, and all I want to do is stay like this forever.
Aiden pulls back and looks into my eyes. “I wish we didn’t have to keep going. I could have stayed at the farm with you for the rest of my life.”
“I was thinking the same thing. Maybe we’ll end up back there.” I let out a long sigh. “But for now, we have to finish this.”
“Yep.” Aiden sits up with his arms clasped around his bent knees. “Let’s get it done.”
We continue without stopping for the rest of the morning. At around noon, we stop for lunch. We’re at the fork of the Yakima and Cle Elum Rivers, sitting on a rocky outcropping near the riverbank. The rivers extend in three directions.
Aiden turns to me as we eat. “I’ve been thinking about our path through Snoqualmie Pass. I think we should take the Forest Service road. It might be the toughest going, but it gives us the most cover. I for sure don’t want to take I-90, and I’m not excited about the tunnel.”
The mention of the tunnel makes the hairs on my neck stand up. “Yeah, I agree. I don’t want to do that damn tunnel.”
“After lunch, we should try to get in about twenty miles, then. Try to get all the way to Keechelus Lake.” Aiden points at the map Curtis gave us. “That way, we’re close to the pass in the morning, and we have the whole day to get through.”
“That sounds like a good plan.” I’m not excited about the idea of another twenty miles today, but the going has been easy. I hope my energy level stays high.
We start up again after lunch. The trail no longer follows the river as it has for the last twenty or so miles. Instead, we head alongside the interstate. But it’s not too close, and our trail is tucked behind a line of trees.
“I don’t love seeing that freeway.” I gesture with my head toward it. “Makes me feel exposed.”
“Yeah, same here. Let’s stay alert.”
As we continue along, I keep glancing over, expecting at any moment to see those same damn trucks with their damn flags flapping. Nothing approaches. It must be my imagination, but things keep appearing in the corner of my vision. A slight motion. A splash of color. But each time I turn to look, there’s nothing there. “This may sound paranoid, but I’d swear somebody is watching us.”
“Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean people aren’t out to get you.” Aiden smiles.
“Have you seen anything strange?”
“Nope. Maybe you are just paranoid.”
I whack him on the shoulder. “Shut up!”
Aiden laughs.
After a few hours, our trail veers to the left, leaving the interstate behind. I’m glad I no longer have to glance over my shoulder every minute.
Our surroundings have changed distinctly—the forest denser, the trail gaining elevation, and the air a little crisper. An occasional patch of snow appears, hiding in a gully or shady spot. We’ve moved to the edge of the Cascade Mountains.
“Aiden, what do you plan to do when we’re done? When this is all over.”
He looks over at me with a scrunched face. “That’s a good question. Originally, I imagined I’d stay at the bunker for a while. See if they had any local courier jobs for me there. And at some point, make my way back to the East Coast, I guess.”
He takes my hand, and smiles. “But now, I’m not so sure. Are you thinking about what Curtis said? About the farm?”
“Yeah. I was crushed to hear about his cancer. But I can’t help but think it’s fate’s way of telling us we should take it over. To honor him.”
“A lot will happen between now and when we need to make that decision. We still need to track down your family, for instance.”
“We?” I beam at him. The end of our trip isn’t something we’ve talked about. I wasn’t sure if he planned to help me.
“Yes, we.” He grabs both of my hands and looks me in the eye. “We’re in this together. Remember?”
The earnestness of his statement makes me glow. He intends to stay and help me. Before now, I wasn’t sure of his plans. My love for him grows with each kind gesture he makes. Each selfless act.
I want to tell him I love him. To scream it out loud to the world. And I’m pretty sure he loves me too. But to say it to him now is too risky. I’d be a mess if he weren’t ready to say it back to me. So I’ll wait.
Instead, I say I love you with the warmth of my smile. The look in my eyes. And he returns that look. That’s enough for now.
*
AIDEN
Melting snowdrifts are a common sight now, streaked with dirt. The sudden coldness and increase in the snow make me apprehensive. The more snow we encounter, the more complicated our crossing becomes. Zach’s face looks calm and content. Seeing him steadies my nerves a bit. Maybe things won’t be so bad.
We trudge across slush and mud along some shady spots on the trail. All the while, the sun is still bright and warm in the clear blue sky. But the difference in temperature between the sunny and shady spots is dramatic. The thin air of the higher altitudes doesn’t hold as much warmth. When we’re not standing in the sun, it gets downright chilly.
It’s early evening when we get to the shores of Keechelus Lake. An old primitive campsite looks ideal for setting up our tent for the night. The lake is beautiful and stretches on for miles.
The Snoqualmie ski area is far off to the north. Ski runs crisscross the otherwise forested hills and white alpine peaks. That’s where we’ll be tomorrow when we hit the Snoqualmie Pass.
Like the night before we crossed the Columbia River, I’m a bundle of nerves. But the mix of feelings is different. I’m more in control. Zach will be with me this time. And while I fear for our safety, knowing he’ll be by my side somehow fills me with more confidence. More hope.
Snow blankets most of the ground here, but we find a nice dry patch to set up our tent. Despite it being a colder evening, we go without a fire tonight. Best not to telegraph our position to any prying eyes the day before we go over the pass.
We eat a cold but delicious meal, care of Curtis. Cured meats, cheeses, and a rustic baguette he baked in his oven last night. The food is a delicacy we haven’t experienced since before the Great Collapse.
When we finally go to bed, we snuggle up tight into the one sleeping bag. It’s cold enough outside that we’re still in our clothes. It’s a bit of torture not being able to feel Zach’s bare skin against mine.
The next morning, we awaken with the sun lighting up the tent. We have a small, cold breakfast, pack up, and head out. Neither of us are talkative. We’re focused on our next objective. Getting through the pass. We continue on the trail to the north. Snow covers it completely now, with the occasional patch of dirt showing the only hint of where to go. Before us, the ski areas loom closer.
Soon, ski lifts dot the hillside on our left, heading up a ridge forming Snoqualmie Pass’s southern border. The lifts are in serious disrepair, with several chairs falling down. Snow still covers the ski hill. Before the Great Collapse, this would mean a great spring skiing season. But now, worry consumes me, wondering what the conditions of the Forest Service roads will be.
We come to a left bend in the trail. Farther down, I spot the entrance to the train tunnel. Zach makes a nervous twitch at the sight of it.
“Don’t worry,” I say. “We’re not headed that way. This is where we get off the trail.” I guide us up an embankment to the right and onto a road.
Snoqualmie Summit isn’t so much a town as it is a patchwork of vacation homes and businesses, all serving the four small ski areas that dot the surrounding hillsides. We go north through the streets, keeping an eagle eye out for any movement. The little town is quiet and empty.
Off to our right is Interstate 90. At the northern edge of Snoqualmie Pass, the massive freeway bends westward, heading through a tight choke point between two mountain peaks.
We take an access road that runs under the freeway, then turn to the west ourselves, onto the Forest Service road. Much of the snow has melted at the top of the summit, where sunlight hits it. There’s only an inch or so on the ground, and the going is easy.
But soon, the road descends into a large ravine. Sun has not permeated here as much, and our boots sink several inches into the snow. The ravine acts as a natural collection point of snow falling from the peaks on either side.
From below, the freeway is an impressive sight. There must be at least ten lanes across on both sides. Massive pillars hold it over the deep ravine, looking like the gigantic legs of some ancient creature. It must be a hundred fifty feet above us now. Its shadow casts across the whole valley.
We continue, but soon the snow is up to my knees, and my pants are getting wet. The going is slow; I’m not even sure we’re still following a road. The lack of trees in our path is our only clue.
I glance at Zach. He gives me a meager smile. He’s doing his best to trudge along. But the snow only gets worse. It’s nearly up to my waist, and continuing becomes serious work. Just moving my leg to the next position is an exercise in frustration.
Zach breaks the silence. “I don’t think this is going to work.”
Even turning to him is a struggle because of the snow. “Yeah, I don’t think we can continue this way.”
Zach lets out a deep sigh. “The tunnel, huh?”
“I know it’s not your favorite idea. If it’s any consolation, I’m not excited about it either.”
Zach laughs. “I’m not sure if that makes me feel better or worse.”
“The point is, I don’t think it’s going to be fun. But it might be our only option.”
Zach nods. “Yeah, I’ve been psyching myself up for that as soon as the snow was knee-high. Okay, let’s turn this ship around.”
Going back is easier. Even though we’re going uphill, we use the existing path we’ve already made through the snow. Zach is up front now, and I follow behind him. But then Zach stops and looks back at me with a quizzical expression.
“Is it just me, or does it look like there’s an extra set of footprints in the snow here?” Zach says.
I lean down and inspect the prints. “Well, I for sure see our prints. But yeah, right here, it almost looks like another set veers off our path.”
Zach starts scanning around with a worried expression.
“But maybe that was just one of us pausing for a moment to look around,” I say. “I remember a few times when I did that.”
Zach nods but doesn’t appear too reassured. “Or, maybe someone is following us. Maybe I’m not paranoid.”
“Well, let’s for sure keep our eyes open.”
All told, our detour took a little over two hours. It’s about midmorning by the time we get back to the tunnel.
We find a spot to have an early lunch nearby to observe the entrance. As we eat, we lie in the sun, trying to dry our shoes and pants, soaked from our little snow adventure.
There’s no sign of life or movement around the tunnel the entire time we sit there.
“Okay, are you ready to do this?” I ask.
Zach shoots me a worried look. “No. But there’s no other choice. Let’s go.”
We head back down to the trail toward the Snoqualmie Train Tunnel.