Post-Apocalypse Dead Letter Office (13 page)

I don’t want you to worry, though. I kept all this pretty tight to my chest. I only told Smitty, Thin Tim, Bob Banks, and Len Lindsay the story from start to finish. You never know which one of them might spill it to the rest of the gang, though. Heh.

I know you’d probably say that I should have talked my way out of it with them Beefers. Tried to play it all off as a big misunderstanding. But I’m not your spokesman, Biggs, and I’m sure as shit not your drug mule. I put out word to all the other legs, too. You’re out of business, Biggs, and it’s your own fault. You also owe me a bottle of vodka. I know I’ll never be able to overtake you on a bike and wring it out of you, but if you ever dare deliver it, I’m in Hamburg, Iowa. Growing popcorn.

-Weixelman

To: Ellen Biddle, North Kansas City, KS

From: Gary Hoegaarden and Nancy Biddle, Santa Fe, NM

July 20th, 20+5

Ellie-

Hello from Santa Fe. We hope things are going all right for you in KC, and wanted to let you know we’d be coming out your way pretty soon. And not to just visit. Thing have become so intolerable here that we can’t stay, and so we’re moving back east. We don’t mean to sound pushy – like we’re coming out and just be ready whether you like it or not – but we remembered the offer you made the other year, and are now hoping that it wasn’t just an off-the-cuff nicety.

The water out of the Cochila Reservoir is dangerously close to being tapped out and water from snowmelt is simply not going to cut it for those of us left. Which reminds me that what few people remain here seem completely set on reverting to some kind of semi-savage lifestyle. Not like Native Americans “noble savagery” (yes, I know the term is bull, but you get the idea – they had a civilization before white folk came over and hosed it all up for them. By the way, the indians on the rez west of town have apparently returned to their old, pre-Western ways and seem to be thriving), but seriously barbaric mob rule stuff. It’s disturbing to us and dangerous here now, so early last year we made the decision to get the hell out of this place and to somewhere just a touch more civilized. Honestly, we never considered Kansas City all that civilized, but we’re willing to bet it’s a far cry better than what Santa Fe has turned into. Just last week I scarcely escaped a beat down and probably far worse at the hands of roving thugs. I did take a good shot to my shoulder from a well slung rock, but came out of it none the worse for wear. A couple friends of ours, the Weirs – we had drinks with them in the Railyard district one night when you were out visiting – were not so lucky. They got caught making a run for water in early January and were killed. It’s been hard living enough without idiots being violent, but the way things are now, it’s time to leave.

Towards that end, we’ve been saving up food and other supplies for the extended road trip. Since last spring, we’ve been drying, pickling and otherwise preserving everything edible we can get our hands on. This has proven trickier than it sounds, as we never had much use for food preservation equipment and so never bought any.

But we’ve remedied that. I (Nance) have been picking through several old businesses and even some abandoned homes and homes where we know the previous tenants died for – among other things – serviceable jars, canning equipment, oven racks and door screens and other well-ventilated flat surfaces for drying food, etc. This may sound completely horribly ghoulish to you, maybe even like we’re engaging in the barbarity we’re trying to escape. I fundamentally agree, but we’re just that desperate to get ourselves ahead of the game and out of town, and they’re not using it.

If I may be so bold, Gary has turned into a damn fine shot with the bow he acquired the second summer after everything fell apart. So, we’ve eaten mucho jackrabbit and put up a bit of deer and some pronghorn jerky over the last year. It’s nasty work, and difficult, getting the game back to the house once he’s killed it, then dressing it and making jerky, but so much else has become a filthy toil since, you know. The deer jerky is pretty good, but the pronghorn is so tough it tastes almost like a rawhide chew. Good to keep your mouth busy, I suppose.

It won’t come as a surprise to you that most of our food preservation is done through drying. We’ve been putting most of it on the roof, where it’s impossible for thugs to see it and steal it. Had to learn the hard way, though. Fortunately, the only thing they got away with was a bunch of ancho chilies. Hard telling if they even knew what they were stealing.

We’d been having trouble deciding what kind of bikes to take. Not bikes, really, but the junk we ought to put on the bikes to make the ride easier on us, what tires would be best suited to the job, etc. We figured fenders were pretty much unnecessary for a ride right now, but since we’re still not ready to leave, that might change. We’ll ask the courier when we see him next. Racks are simply a necessity, so we’ve scored a couple rear racks and finally located one to put on the front of my bike. I’m bummed about not being able to take my carbon frame bike. Gary told me it might be handy for running errands around town, but that I was freaking nuts to think he’d let me ride it fully loaded on a cross country trek. The roads are such a mess right now, and they’re never going to get any better, I’m afraid. So, we finally decided to take a couple old school-style rigid steel frame mountain bikes. I’m fitting them out with drop bars and clips to increase our pedaling efficiency. Aluminum or even steel road bikes would have been both lighter and better for body positioning for long rides, but we think there’s a trade-off with the wheels. We’ve had a terrible time trying to find tubes and tires for 700c presta valve based rims. Of course, 26 inch wheels, tubes and tires aren’t growing on trees nowadays, but they’re still easier to find than road stuff. Also, we think there’s a distinct advantage in the durability and load capacity of 26 inch tires. (We really don’t want to get stuck out in eastern Colorado or western Kansas with flat tires and at least 70 miles before the nearest place to get them checked out.) And inch and a halfs seem to be the best compromise between load capacity and rolling resistance. So, we’ve put got 26 x 1.5 inch semislick tires on each bike, with matching tubes, and a backup set of tubes and tires for each bike. With any luck we won’t need any of the spares, but not having them is just an open invitation to trouble. We’ve maxed out the bottle cages on each bike, and Gary’ll be strapping a three gallon water cooler to the rear rack of his bike. I’ll have the tent packed into one of my pannier bags. We’re splitting the food equally between us just for practicality’s sake. Each of us will carry our own clothing, and so there won’t be much of that. We’ll bathe as much as possible and maybe find a way to do laundry once or twice during the trip, but chances are that we’ll still be so incredibly ripe by the time we make it to eastern Kansas that you’ll probably be able to smell us on the wind a day before we get into North KC. Oh, and we’ll be wearing helmets, so rest assured there. I finally brought Gary around to my way of thinking – that staying a bit cooler isn’t worth getting a brain injury over. Besides, I told him his head would sunburn. (I was half-joking, but he is quite a bit thinner on top since you last saw him.)

We both went round and round about this several times, but we’ve finally mapped out our trip. We estimate the the entire trip is 900 or so miles, maybe 1000 if we have to make serious detours or make sidetrips for more supplies. Our plan is to cover about fifty miles a day, sticking to riding in the early mornings and evenings to avoid as much as possible exerting ourselves in the heat. That’s ambitious of us, but I think we can manage it. Here’s our projected itinerary. We’ll start out from here heading east, then north up I-25. The few couriers we’ve seen and talked to say the road is still in pretty good shape, which is great news to us. We’ll ride I-25 north to Pueblo – figure it’ll take six days or maybe a week to get up there. We anticipate this first leg as being the most difficult part of the trip, because – while we’re in decent shape and will be fresh and ready to ride – our bikes will be most laden with food and water at this point, and we won’t have gotten into real road-seasoned shape yet. Also, the hills between here and Pueblo are all pretty freakin’ steep. You may think we should just take I-40 east through Texas and Oklahoma and then I-35 up north and northeast – the way we always used to drive – but there are a couple main reasons we’re not going that way. We’ve heard Amarillo is now a haven for banditos, there appear to be fewer water sources that way – at least on our maps – and Pueblo will be a good pit stop before the next leg. Got a couple of really good friends up there who’ll put us up for a night or two – especially if we bring food! We’ve heard from the couriers that I-70 is in great shape, but water sources all through eastern Colorado and into western Kansas along that route are pretty slim. So, we think taking highway 50 east out of Pueblo and following the Arkansas river as long as possible is the best bet. We’ll do that all the way past Dodge City, where the river turns northeast. We’ll keep on east southeast towards Pratt, then into Wichita. This second leg is the longest, but we’re hoping that since we’re following the river downstream and have the wind at our backs it won’t take much longer than the first, maybe eight days. Probably spend a night or two in Wichita, then take I-35 northeast into Kansas City. That’ll be a bit hillier, but we figure five or six days, tops. Then we’ll knock on your door and hope you have something for us to eat and maybe even a bottle of beer for us to share – we’re going to need it!

We’re sending this ahead so you know to expect us a month or two from the time this letter is delivered. We’re leaving in just over a month, and figure the letter might take a couple weeks to get to you, at the outside. These couriers are balls out fast, and they’re charging us quite a bit for delivery. (We gave them some pronghorn jerky and told them it was deer, so the cost doesn’t seem to hurt so bad.)

Sorry this was so long. Didn’t mean to bore you, just wanted to assure you that we’d really thought this thing through and had a decent, safe gameplan. We were just remembering the other day when heading over to visit you in Kansas City was a long day’s drive. It seemed like such a pain in the ass, then. Well, our asses are going to be about twenty times more sore after this trip! Wish us luck – pray for us, even, if you think it’ll help – and we’ll see you in October!

Gary and Nance

To: Allen Lindsay, Jr., Lawrence, KS

From: Virginia Lindsay, Wilsey, KS

January 15th, 20+5

Dear Allen,

Greetings from home. It’s been so long since we’ve – I’ve heard from you. But then, it’s been so long since I’ve written you, too.

We’ve been lucky this winter. Except for a very brief cold snap at the beginning of the year, it’s been so mild here. The wind still howls, and will only get worse in the coming months, of course. But the Halsey boys rode out early December and sealed up the leaks in the house’s windows and doors. They even brought me half a cord of wood – good hedge wood. Should see us – me through the end of winter, anyway. Mrs. Halsey herself died just a couple months ago, a day or two after Thanksgiving. Flu. I don’t know whether the Halsey boys were carrying it, or what it was particularly, but I came down with something nasty a few days after they worked on the house. Terrible sweats and chills. For three days I could scarcely find the strength to feed the fire and keep the stove going. Couldn’t even get the lids off any of my canned goods. Wouldn’t have done any good, anyway – couldn’t keep anything down but hamhock broth, and barely that. Oh, but I’ve been through worse. Sitting by the stove, listening to the wind (and being thankful that it was kept outside) and leafing through some old photo albums was not –

Anyway, Barb Halsey. You still remember her, don’t you? She lived right in the middle of town, at 4th and Lyndon. The nice limestone house with the wrought iron gate. Taught you and Anne piano lessons. I know you were always a good student, Allen, but I think Anne skipped more than she went. Barb charged all the same, though. Ah, I can’t hold that against her, such a minor thing now. She was a nice gal. I think a bit of her husband rubbed off on her, but she was still a basically good person. And her boys. Well, see above. They’re both living in the house, now. Karl has a wife and a son and daughter – chubby little towheads, so ornery – and I think Marty has a pretty steady girlfriend.