Part II - The End Of The Road
The wind was cool against my face as I gave the engine gas and we accelerated away from my house. Natalie had a tight hold around my waist and I kept the speed down to thirty, knowing how powerful and fast the bike was and not wanting to scare her. I also stayed slow so I could see everything that was around me. I'd ridden this stretch of road thousands of times and yet on that morning it seemed like it was my first time. It seemed like I was looking at Woodford for the first time as well. I'd never seen the place I called home deserted, and yet that's exactly what it was. There wasn't a soul.
It was less than a quarter mile to when properties ended and the open country began, and the road dipped down a long, gradual decline, a strip of perfect black tarmac stretching out before us with a white broken line running the centre. Away to the right was the Mackenzie farm which virtually marked the boundary of this end of the village. The three-story farm building was Dutch-colonial, whitewashed timber almost luminous in the morning light, with a collection of barns and outbuildings spread around it. I slowed as we passed but saw no-one working in the yard or moving around the sheds, thought about going up to the house and then picked up speed again. The next time I saw people I needed it to be a lot of them, and Shelby would be able to offer that.
I noted that the fields were empty as we hit the bottom of the incline and started back up the other side. Crops were still wilting in the heat, acres of corn were ready for harvesting and the pasture land was as lush as the summer allowed, but nothing grazed in the meadows. Pete Mackenzie kept five hundred-plus milking cattle, but not one of them was to be seen. I took a look back over my shoulder to see if Natalie was okay. Her hair whipped around her face and she gave me an unconvincing smile, gripped on to me even harder, and like me continued to scan the surrounding area for anything moving.
Out of the small valley we'd descended the road rose sharply, and I gunned the throttle, picking up momentum as the exhaust of the bike chugged behind us. At the top of the bank was a small wood, really nothing more than thick groups of trees for a few hundred yards, but the sun was blotted out behind the canopies as we approached and first the road and then we were smothered in shadows. Just before the road plunged through the natural tunnel of foliage I drew the Harley to a stop, swung it off the road onto the dusty earth at the edge and turned ninety degrees so we were across the tarmac. If a car had come speeding out over the crest of the hill we'd have been sitting in the firing line, but I didn't really care. I'd be more than happy to dive for safety if someone decided to pay us a visit.
I balanced the bike and looked back along where we'd just come from. At the few houses, the many fields, the single main road that led into and through Woodford Bridge. I could even see the meadow that bordered the back of my house. Above the rooftops peeked the spire of the church that was at the centre of the village.
'There's no one there,' said Natalie, her voice in my ear.
'We've only seen one side of it,' I replied. 'We can only see one side of it from here. There must be eighty, maybe a hundred houses in total, plus the store and the little school.' I looked over my shoulder directly at her. 'We're here. Others will be too.' I tried to sound convincing and probably failed, judging by the look on her face.
'Why hasn't a car come past us, Dave?' she asked, although I don't really think she was looking for or even expecting an answer. Just as well, because I had no idea. But I did know that as every minute passed I started to feel an increasing swell of dread spiraling in my stomach.
'Let's keep going,' I said, and she held me tightly once more as I wheeled the bike back onto the road and headed into the trees. The sun left us completely as we passed under the canopies of tightly knit branches, although here and there shafts of light burst through like golden fountains and dappled the road like torch beams. The gloom of the wood seemed to be a little disconcerting, probably for no other reason than it matched the mood I was in, and I hit the throttle, eager to be back in the brightness of the morning. I also knew that when we emerged the country opened up before us, and on a day like this the view could be seen for many miles. The open road, farmland, a gas station a mile or so on, and then clearly in view, the town of Shelby. Few thousand population, a handful of bars, a rundown bowling alley and a cinema with one screen run by a manager who still wore a dinner jacket and dicky bow. Small town USA, to be sure. But surely filled with people.
The light increased as the trees thinned and the tunnel-like wood came to an end. I squinted as the sun hit me full in the face as we emerged, and wish I'd had the sense to wear shades. My vision adjusted as I blinked, and then I thought that the light was playing tricks on me. I blinked again, rapidly trying to clear the mist that must have been clouding my sight, but when nothing happened I realized I was actually seeing what was there. I backed-off on the throttle instantly and applied the brakes, perhaps a little harder than I meant to, and I felt Natalie's fingers dig into me as she held on while the back wheel drifted away from us. And then we were stopped, and her hands continued to hold me, and I knew that she was seeing exactly what I was.
'What is that?' Said Natalie, her breath fast on the back of my neck.
We should have easily been able to see Shelby from our vantage point. It was close, just a few miles away as I've said. At night from the crest of this bank the town lights looked like a hundred stars had dropped from the sky and settled on the earth. Now though, it wasn't there. Well, that wasn't strictly true. I couldn't swear that it wasn't there, because I couldn't see it. I Couldn't see past the shimmering haze that filled the view. It looked like a bank of mist had settled across the land in a line, from as far left to right as I could see, blocking land, road, everything.
'What is that?' Natalie repeated.
'I don't know. It looks like Fog, or a heat haze.' That was more than possible. The weather had been scorching hot for the last few weeks, and I'd often seen the air wobble and distort as the heat affected the atmospheric pressure. It's the kind of effect that at extreme conditions causes a mirage in the desert. You read old stories of explorers running towards a lake in the middle of the Sahara and diving into nothing more than sand. But this was no desert, this was middle-America, and I'd never heard of a haze that was so big, or that blocked whatever was behind it.
I got the bike moving again but this time kept the speed well below twenty, the engine virtually ticking over in first gear. The shimmering air was at least two miles in front of us, and didn't appear to be getting closer, but I still wanted to be cautious. We passed a field of yellow rapeseed, the flowers in full bloom, brilliant and heavy with pollen, and then we came upon the gas station. A typical country place, independently owned and proud of it, fighting off the global corporations that would have loved to replace it's ramshackled old pumps and workshop with a modern overhaul. It was run by one family and Jim Callan and his son Jeff still worked there everyday, and they were good people. Jim suffered with arthritis and mostly kept himself behind the counter in the little store, selling brake fluid and passing the time with whoever was passing, and Jeff pumped gas and worked on whatever was up on ramps in the shop. Last year I'd had a problem with the bike and Jeff had fixed it within hours, got her purring better than ever, and the charge was very reasonable. He had a lopsided grin and a string of bad jokes, and everyone instantly took a liking to him.
This time of the morning the station would have been alive with activity, a radio blaring out across the dirt forecourt, Jeff wandering around in his faded overalls. But the place was deserted, even though the workshop doors were open and I could see tools scattered around the back wheels of a Ford pickup that had seen better days. Through the dusty windows of the store I could see shelves, coffee machine, even a calendar on the back wall, but no Jim. I stopped the bike and looked for a minute, then called both of their names, but neither of them appeared around a corner or stepped from the shadows. I sighed, pulled back onto the road and kept going.
I glanced back over my shoulder, and Natalie gave me the sweetest smile, full of hope and sadness, and I yearned to find someone just to make her feel better, let alone myself. The thought of-
'Car!'
I jumped as she shouted in my ear. 'Where? I don't-'
'There, look! Infront of us.'