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Authors: Scott B. Williams

The Pulse: A Novel of Surviving the Collapse of the Grid (34 page)

BOOK: The Pulse: A Novel of Surviving the Collapse of the Grid
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His heart nearly stopped when saw that it was a letter and read the opening salutation:
“Dear Daddy.” Casey had been here! It was a letter from Casey!
“Scully! She was here!” he whispered, barely able to contain himself from shouting out loud. “Hold on…let me see what she said.” He continued reading.
I don’t know if you will ever read this or not, but if you somehow find a way to make it back to New Orleans, I know you will be worried to death about me and will be looking for me everywhere. My friend Grant is leaving this in your car in case you couldn’t get to my apartment for some reason and find the note I left for you there. If you read this before I see you again, I won’t be here on the campus or even in the city. Things have gotten really bad here just one day after the lights went out. Jessica and I are leaving with Grant, who was here through Katrina and says that it would be far too dangerous to stay here with no power. He says that if we don’t get out now, we may not be able to. My car won’t start, of course, and hardly anybody has one that will. We are going to leave later this afternoon on our bicycles, because riding them is much faster than walking. Grant’s family owns a cabin in the woods not far across the state line in Mississippi. He says we will be safe there, and I believe him. It is on a secluded river called the Bogue Chitto, and they have a well and lots of food and other gear stored there. He says we can stay there as long as it takes for the power to be restored. He drew a map that will tell you how to get there in case you find this before the power comes on. The map is on the back of this page. We won’t be coming back here (until/unless?) that happens.
I have been thinking about you all the time since this happened and worrying about you out there on that boat, but I know you are with Uncle Larry and I’m sure he knows what to do and that you two are okay, wherever you are. I love you, Daddy, and I can’t wait to see you again!
Love, Casey
 
 
Artie’s hands were trembling as he read the last line. There was another note at the bottom of the page, written in a different handwriting that he knew was not Casey’s.
Dear Dr. Drager:
I hope to get to meet you someday soon, I’ve heard a lot about you from your daughter. I want you to know that I will do everything in my power to keep her and Jessica safe. That’s why we’re going to my parents’ cabin in Mississippi. It is far off the beaten path and safe from the looters and desperate people who will soon be going crazy anywhere near the cities. I came here to leave this note for Casey before we get on our way. I hope you don’t mind, but I found your .22 pistol and a box of ammo in the glove box. I know how to use it, so I borrowed it, because it is dangerous to travel now and I thought it would be a good idea to have it. I know it’s unlikely you will be able to get here and read this, but I wanted you to know I will take care of it until I can meet you someday soon and return it to you in person.
Grant Dyer
 
 
Artie turned the letter over and for the first time saw the drawing on the back of the piece of paper. It was a map, just as Casey had said, roughly sketched, but with carefully printed labels in Grant’s hand identifying roads along the route, which led north over the Causeway to the other side of Lake Pontchartrain, and continued on beyond the state line. Artie looked at the squiggly line denoting a river and the tiny square that showed the cabin. It was at the end of a long private lane that was labeled “dirt,” which in turn was at the far end of a curvy country road labeled “gravel.” In the margin, Grant had made a note that the approximate distance from Tulane to the cabin was 90 miles.
“Ninety miles!” Artie whispered to Scully. “She says she and Jessica left here on their bicycles with a guy friend of theirs, heading for his parents’ cabin 90 miles to the north, on a remote river in Mississippi. They took my pistol for protection. They say they left the day after the lights went out.”
“I t’ink she and Jessica smart girls, dem. Goin’ to de river, dem havin’ watah to drink, an’ in de bush like dat, dem got some place to hide. Dis New Orleans dangerous place, mon.”
“But you saw what I saw when we sailed under those bridges today.” Artie couldn’t imagine his daughter traveling in such conditions; the thought was too horrifying to contemplate. But aside from that, he could scarcely imagine her traveling that far on a bike even in normal times. “I don’t know if Casey could ride a bike that far or not. She’s never done anything that extreme that I know of, but she is reasonably fit.”
“I t’ink she can, mon. When she and Jessica on de boat last summer, dem swimming strong every day. Paddle de kayak too. Not like most of dem tourist comin’ to de island from Bobbylon on de cruise ship, layin’ ’round on de beach like dem fat white whale, not to move ’cept goin’ back to de buffet table to eat.”
“Maybe so. At least I hope so. But I was counting on seeing her later tonight. I can’t tell you how it feels to come this far, and think I’m so close, only to find out she’s not here, though I’ve feared all along that might be the case.”
“It’s good dem got de young mon wid, and de pistol too. You said de note was written jus’ de day after Jah strike down de lights. I t’ink we gonna find dem safe in dat cabin he put on de map.”
“I hope you’re right, Scully, but getting there will probably be a lot harder and more dangerous than trying to get to the Tulane campus. It looks like that cabin is way out in the middle of nowhere across the state line in Mississippi. One thing is for sure, we can’t
sail
there, and it sure is a long way to walk. What are we going to do?”
“First t’ing, Doc, is we get outta dis place an’ bok to de boat. De Copt’n probably gonna have a plan when we discuss dis problem wid he. But we knowin’ now de girls dem not here. Too dangerous to stay in here for no reason now.”
“Yeah, let’s go.” Artie closed the glove compartment and center console, and reached into the back seat to get a small bag with an extra change of clothes he usually kept there when he traveled. Other than that, there was little of use in the Tahoe, so he got out and locked the door, and they hurried back across the airport property to the kayak. Thoughts of Casey’s journey with her friends ran through his mind with every step as he tried to picture the scene on that day when they left New Orleans on their bicycles. He had heard Casey talk about Grant, but had never met him. He could only hope that he was a young man who had a good head on his shoulders. The fact that he found and took the pistol showed that at least he was somewhat resourceful and recognized the possible need for it. It was also comforting that he’d written in the note that he knew how to use it. Artie could only hope that was true, and also that Grant wouldn’t have the need to prove it.
ELEVEN
 
“WHAT ARE WE GOING to do when it gets dark?” Jessica asked Grant. “Are we going to keep going, or stop?” The sun had dropped behind the tops of the trees in the forest surrounding the Bogue Chitto and the day was quickly fading into twilight.
“I would keep going if I
knew
he was still paddling, but at night there’s too much chance of running up on them in the darkness or even passing them if they stopped to camp somewhere out of sight of the river, which is what I would do in his place. Considering that, I don’t want to risk missing them entirely and somehow getting ahead of them on the river, or worse, getting shot.”
“But if he does keep going, we’ll never catch them, will we?”
“That’s always possible, but there’s no way to know what he might be thinking. I know the farther downstream we get, the more we’ll begin passing side creeks and sloughs that connect to the river. Most of them don’t go very far, but someone in a canoe could easily hide in any of them. I don’t want to pass them in the dark, because I want to stop at every creek and look for signs that they may have turned off the river. We really have no way of knowing where this guy may be going, Jessica. The big swamps down on the lower Pearl River are a good guess, but a guess is really all we have.”
“I’m so scared for Casey,” Jessica said. “Trying to find one person out here is like looking for a needle in a haystack, even if she is in a canoe. And what if he has already raped and killed her! He could have dumped her out in the river or hidden her body in the woods by now and we would never know.”
“I don’t think he would have done that, Jessica. He knew we were still in the vicinity and that we had a canoe. He may not think we could have figured out he had her when we saw him, but he wouldn’t take a chance by stopping right away to do anything to her. And besides, I don’t think he would kill her any time soon anyway. If that had been his intention, he wouldn’t have bothered to take her with him. I think he’s trying to take her somewhere and take his time doing what he wants to do to her. At least that’s what it seems like guys like that do from the news stories I’ve read and crime documentaries I’ve seen.”
“I’ll never understand those sickos. What could be so wrong with someone that they think they can do horrible things to another human being? How can anyone not have a conscience?”
“They’re psychopaths, I guess.”
“I know one thing, it doesn’t matter if we stop for the night or not, or how tired I am, I won’t be getting any sleep tonight thinking about what she must be going through. I just can’t believe this is happening, Grant.”
“Me either, and I will worry about her all night too, but we’ve got to try to get some rest since we can’t travel anyway. Tomorrow will be a long and hard day, and we may need every ounce of our combined strength both to catch this guy and to help Casey when we do catch him.”
Grant slowed his paddling as the darkness increased, carefully guiding the canoe among the many snags of fallen trees that protruded from the current, waiting to tip an unwary or unskilled canoeist. He was looking for a good place for them to stop for the night, not out on one of the exposed sandbars, which would be his first choice if this were a mere recreational camping trip, but someplace that would allow them to pass the night out of sight of anyone else who might chance along by river or afoot. He found the perfect spot at the end of a long horseshoe bend, where a sandbar tapered to a narrow sliver and a clay bank three feet high bordered the river. The hardwood forest here was made up of mature timber, and the undergrowth was sparse. Grant guided the canoe alongside the bluff and held it while Jessica climbed out. Then he stepped out and pulled the boat up over the bank and away from the river until it was hidden among the trees. It was much darker within the edge of the forest—so dark they could barely see each other. Grant crept back to the riverbank and reached out to take Jessica’s hand, guiding her to where he’d pulled the canoe.
“I can’t see
anything,
” Jessica whispered. This is just like that place we camped last night.”
“Yeah, but at least it’s not raining, and I think we’re going to have good weather for a few days. I’m not going to bother with the tarp, if that’s okay with you. We can just spread it out on the ground and sleep on top of it.”
“I’m scared of snakes after what you said last night.”
“I don’t think we have to worry too much. You see how quickly it’s gotten cool since the sun went down. That’s one good thing about these weather fronts that come through this time of year. After the rain passes it always turns cool for a few days afterwards. I’ll bet the temps will drop into the low 50s or high 40s tonight. Reptiles generally aren’t moving at night when it’s that cool—same with bugs. It’ll be nice not to have to worry about mosquitoes, because in hot weather in the woods along these rivers, they would eat you alive at night.”
“It
is
getting cold. Can we build a fire tonight since it’s not raining?”
“I don’t think we should. I wanted to camp out of sight in the woods to be on the safe side, even though I think it’s highly unlikely anyone would be coming down the river at night. And although I’m pretty sure we’re still a good distance behind this guy who’s got Casey, building a fire would defeat the purpose of camping up here instead of out in the open. There is a little bit of propane left in the one canister we have, though. We can use the stove to make some hot chocolate and cook the last of the rice packets. Maybe if we do that quickly, there will be enough left to heat water for oatmeal in the morning. You can have what’s left of that too. I’m going to try and catch a fish tonight for my breakfast.”
“How are you going to see to fish in this dark?”
“Not the kind of fishing you’re thinking about, Jessica. There were some hooks and trotline in that tackle box where we got the canoe. I’m going to take some small pieces of the beef jerky I have left and use it to bait some drop hooks. What you do is tie them to a branch hanging out over a deep, still hole in the river, like the one just upstream, and leave it out all night. With any luck at all, a catfish will come along and smell the bait and hook itself when it swallows it. Jerky isn’t ideal, but that’s all I’ve got. I hope soaking it in the water for a few hours on the hook will soften it up and it will still have enough smell to work.”
“Well, good luck with it, but I hope we can find a riverside salad bar for me tomorrow. I’m looking forward to trying those cattails you were talking about.”
BOOK: The Pulse: A Novel of Surviving the Collapse of the Grid
13.67Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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