Tales of the Derry Plague | Book 1 | LAST Anselmo, Ray (electric book reader .txt) 📖

She thought she’d run across bad smells that month – corpses, burning corpses, spoiling produce. But a McDonald’s eighteen-wheeler full of foodstuffs for North Coast franchisees, jackknifed on the highway, tipped over and left in the hot sun for two weeks or so with its driver dead in the cab and rotting away … well, that was a whole new level. To add insult to injury, it was blocking the road so thoroughly that she couldn’t have gotten a bicycle past it, let alone her Hyundai.

She stopped, backed up, looked for a way around, but there was nothing leading off that stretch of road except hiking trails. She couldn’t think of a route around it off the top of her head – if you wanted to get to or from Sayler Beach, you used the Shoreline Highway. It was the only route that made sense. And …

“Well, if that don’t beat all!”

… and there was another accident blocking the road uphill, about a quarter-mile past this one. It looked like a three-or-four-car pileup – hard to tell at this distance.

Message received loud and clear. There was no way to get to any pharmacy from here except by horse or walking. She didn’t have a horse, and she didn’t have enough daylight to walk it tonight. The decision had been made for her.

She drove home grumbling to herself, but it wasn’t exactly a tragedy, was it? Just an inconvenience, albeit a big inconvenience with a big stench. She’d gotten a ton done today without overdoing it. She felt good, strong. She still had a lithium for tonight and one for tomorrow, so she wouldn’t have to skip a dose. This was just one more thing to do, and it was a Thing She Could Do. It would just take time, is all. And she had time.

“Well, I’ve done enough today,” Kelly decided as she pulled up to the curb. “Dinner, rest up, and tomorrow …” Tomorrow, she had an awful lot of walking to do.

11

HIKE

Kelly got to bed, and to sleep, so quickly that she ended up waking while it was still dark – no mean feat for summertime. “Which is fine,” she mumbled as she got out of bed. An early start for what looked to be a long Friday sure beat a poke in the eye. Change her tampon. Have a quick breakfast of bacon, stale pastry and one of the few remaining apples. Dress in a long-sleeved T-shirt, cargo pants, thick socks and hiking boots – she needed protection more than comfort on this long a hike.

She saw sunlight peeking in around the window blinds. Time to start packing.

She had a backpack that she’d used on and off since college, made of good sturdy canvas. She dug it out of the closet and began laying out what she needed. Two tampons, an extra pair of undies, a windbreaker if things got chilly, and a ball cap to protect her face from sunburn. Sunglasses too. A tube of triple antibiotic, some gauze, a Swiss Army knife and a box of band-aids for scrapes and blisters. The Mizuno as walking stick and angry-dog repellent. A couple of cloth shopping bags to carry home her finds. The crowbar for various things.

She looked it over, then put the undies, windbreaker, first aid items, bags and crowbar into various sections of the backpack. (One end of the crowbar stuck out of the top – it couldn’t be helped.) She still had room for four bottles of water, which she set on top. The tampons went into a pocket in her pants. The cap and shades went on her face. All she was missing was food, but she could get some there if she had to. But there was still the nagging feeling she’d forgotten something …

“Oh. The dehydrator shelves.” Those were still floating on their lines in the ocean. And while she had felt okay leaving them out there for one night, two might be pushing her luck. She left the backpack, grabbed two towels, a bottle of dish soap and a scrubbing brush and headed for the car. Do that first, then she could start the big journey.

As it turns out, the overnight soak made them really easy to clean – maybe the floating sand had acted as a gentle abrasive. An hour’s work made them as close to factory-new as anyone could hope for – if she needed them again, they’d be ready. Maybe she’d take them back to the farm before …

“Hey, that’s a thought.” If she did drive up to the farm, and then to where the accident blocked the road, that would cut almost two miles off the trip each way! Suddenly a twelve-mile hike would be reduced to eight or eight-and-a-half, and she could start with what might be the toughest part – getting around the Mickey D’s rig – while she still had all her energy. “Kel, you’re a genius!”

She piled the shelves into the car, started it to head for home, and noticed her gas gauge was getting low – she had maybe a quarter-tank left. But since she was driving partway anyway, she could stop at the store, grab a jug and pour it in. One less thing she had to worry about later. Despite the initial delay – partly because of it, really – the day was already looking up.

Back home. Grab backpack and Mizuno. Add a cloth mask to the ensemble, giving it a spritz of lavender essential oil to block the scents she’d run across. Back to the car. Up to the store. Pour five gallons of gas into the tank with a funnel. Grab half a dozen energy bars and two fiber bars for eating on the way, filling more pockets in the cargo pants. To the farm, where she stacked the shelves in the dehydrator room – she’d continue cleaning the