Free Roads Less Traveled by C. Dulaney Page A

quarantining the areas had failed. The list of smaller cities was even longer. From Maine to California and everywhere in between, the dead had overrun the living. The situation was more or less the same all over the globe. International efforts to halt the spread of the virus had failed miserably, mostly due to the slow reaction of the various governments.
    Our own government hadn’t been heard from in almost twenty-four hours, the reporter was saying. Most likely they were in hiding. Tuck tail and run, the one thing they were good at. Probably under the mistaken impression they could keep the country running, ensure the American way of life would go on. Problem with that was did they really think there would be enough of us left to govern? And would we want them back in the first place? They did a real bang-up job protecting us when we needed them the most. Then, when the situation was “lost,” they ran. Deserted us. After three goddamn days! No, it’s safe to say that whoever survived this and began the long road back from near extinction would not want the government butting in. One thing I can say, they were smart enough not to start dropping nukes everywhere. Thank God for small favors I guess.
    Gus and I finished our lunch and decided to take a walk around the yard. I grabbed my rifle and the cordless phone on my way out. I kept having the feeling that Mia would call me, even though it had been three days and she was probably unable to come to the phone right now. I chuckled and shook my head, amused at the stand-up comedian that was my brain. It was still cool, but warmer than it had been in the morning. The air had the feel of an early winter and I was glad my firewood was all split and stacked. One less thing to worry about. All was quiet, as it had mostly been the last couple of days, and birds were even singing. Over at the tree line, Gus and I watched two chipmunks play and tussle around in the leaves. It was very easy to forget about the rest of the world and the death swallowing it. Here, on my little piece of mountain, everything was business as usual.
    I caught myself being swayed into a false sense of security more than once that afternoon. But I figured since I’d realized that, then it might be okay to relax a little, right? I took advantage of the quiet afternoon and did some maintenance around the place. There was an old water hand-pump next to the barn, so I made sure it was still working. Gus jumped and barked as I pumped, water pouring onto the ground. If he got brave enough, he would run at it and snap his jaws, trying to bite and tug. After he decided it just wasn’t worth his time, I replaced the cover and went on to the barn. We walked around inside for a few minutes, not really having anything to do out there. It was then that it dawned on me: boredom was another devious and underhanded way to die now. We walked back out, I fastened the barn door, and then just stood there. Gus sat patiently at my feet, thinking who knows what in his little doggy mind.
    “Hmm,” I grunted. I scanned the perimeter again; the chipmunks were still having a good time. The birds were still singing. I sighed and turned my head towards the pasture. I hadn’t seen my horses now for almost a week, which wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. They had almost a hundred acres to roam around on, and they wouldn’t come back to the barn unless I either led them in or they were forced back by a storm.
    “Gus, I think we’ve just discovered our next mission. Let’s go find the horses.” I felt better having an objective, a plan. Gus took off ahead of me, running under the gate. I made sure once I entered that the chain was wrapped around and securely locked behind me. As I walked I thought it might be a good idea to bring the horses back and put them inside for the night. In the morning I would let them out into the barn lot; a small fenced-in meadow inside the pasture itself but adjoining the barn from the back.