Ready

Previously, in Part 7: Anna Pottage and a White Van

Part 8

Dear Diary,

Well, I told you so. Winter is coming.

I woke up, laughing, before the dawn. I was giggling in my sleep, apparently.

Some things are just too ridiculous not to laugh at.

I still can’t believe that the best vehicle I could find for what I want to do was a white van! You know how I feel about the windowless white vans!

Is this what they call irony? I believe it is.

I also believe it’s freaking hilarious.

I, Shelby: driver of a windowless white van. Astounding.

I took that bad boy straight to the sporting goods store. I suppose I could have gotten coolers anywhere that hasn’t been bombed out or otherwise flattened, but I saw this store—perfectly intact—while I was out yesterday, and Dad always claimed they carried the best.

I got four of the biggest coolers they had and a few more smaller-sized ones. I would have liked more big ones, just for dry ice, but that was all there were.

As I was loading the coolers, I realized that the van has a trailer hitch. I drove back over to the dealership to see if I could find a utility flat-bed trailer.

I hit the jackpot at the parking lot of the 7-Eleven. It’s not a big trailer, and that’s good, because I don’t have any experience hauling things around.

After unhitching it from someone’s big truck, I was able to pull that little trailer over to the van. If not, I would have given the whole idea up on the spot, because—you know what? I am not a great driver!

There. I said it.

Yeah, I’m good enough to get from here to there without killing anyone—including myself. But I can’t parallel park and I can’t back into a space straight and reverse is not my friend!

Well, by golly, friend Diary, there are no people around, and that means no traffic, and I can park in the middle of the road if I want. I can pull a damn little trailer over to my astonishingly white van and wiggle and wobble the thing around until I can get things aimed just right.

I hitched my wagon, by God! I didn’t do it the conventional way, but I’m freaking proud of myself, anyhow.

I had looked for gas cans at the sporting goods store, but didn’t find any.

That’s rather interesting, don’t you think?

You’re too young to remember the pandemic of 2020, Diary. It lasted a long time. First thing, people went on extravagant shopping sprees and bought up all the toilet paper.

(Yes, we have plenty for now. The hotel store room is full of it. Stop interrupting.)

It was crazy—you’d go to the store, and the whole aisle would be empty. The shelves were bare of TP, facial tissue, even napkins.

Then you’d go to the produce section, and it was full of fresh fruit and vegetables. Just goes to show—people are full of shit.

(See what I did there? Toilet paper? Shit?

Never mind.)

A few months later, while everyone was blabbing about how much better things were getting, there was a rush on gasoline. People lined up at the pumps. I saw a news clip of some idiot woman filling plastic shopping bags with gasoline and shoving the bags in the back of her car.

Now I ask you: What level of stupid do you have to reach before thinking putting gasoline in plastic bags is a good idea?

I’m just saying—that was a while ago. But I think people have kept buying gas cans.

I found a couple of small ones at the 7-11 and filled them up. I got ice and what cold goods I thought might still be okay, and I loaded up on canned and dry goods.

Then I went to our store, where I have been hoarding goods since day—well, not day one, but pretty close. I put cubes of dry ice into the big coolers and stacked meat into them, then sealed them tight. Cheese, butter and anything else I could lay hands on went into the others. I got more canned and dry goods. I packed everything as tightly and neatly as I could, so there would be plenty of room.

After a search of the place, I found a couple more gas cans and filled them up.

I thought about loading the big generator, but I knew I couldn’t do it alone. I made sure it was filled with gas and the coolers and freezer were on. I may never get back this way again, but someone else might, and they will be grateful for what I’ve left behind.

Hope is a good thing, Diary dear. I hope someone finds it and puts it to use.

For whatever reason—because God knows I didn’t have a plan—I have saved a lot of milk and water jugs over the last several days.

You know...I don’t even know how long I’ve been hanging around here!

Anyway, I took all those jugs back to the store and filled them with gasoline.

It feels only slightly safer than plastic shopping bags, and I’m very nervous.

Off to the dollar store. I got laundry baskets and stacking baskets and I made up a corner in the back of the van for storing my gas cans as safely as possible. I stacked the coolers around them to keep them steady.

Now all I can do is drive carefully.

I was back for my things before dark. I loaded the generator and the mattress from my bed onto the trailer.

Clothes, coat, shoes, boots, my locket—and you, Dear Diary.

We are off!

**~**

P.S.

I headed west and stopped to pick some corn. The sun was setting, and when I looked around I could see the old barn off in the distance. There was a bull in the wheat field, staring at me. I shuddered, remembering my nightmare.

It has gotten pretty cold now that the sun is down. We’re nearing a town just over the county line, and from there I’ll head northwest and hope I don’t get lost.

I had to stop here. When you gotta go, you gotta go—just ask Little Orphan Annie.

While I was out there, freezing my tushy in the wind, I noticed that there’s ice forming over the pond. It hasn’t quite reached the middle yet—I could see the waves of water dancing in the light of the full moon. It looks really pretty.

Still, I’m glad to be in this crazy van, with its working heater and reassuring overhead light. I’m surrounded by stuff I will need regardless of the outcome of this trip.

I’m full of hope, even though having that hope is scaring me half to death. I don’t want to get lost. I don’t want to make it only to find that Mom and Aaron aren’t there.

Dear Diary—

I am so scared.

Part 9 Coming Soon! Slip-sliding and Switchbacks

This story is the 8th in a series featuring Shelby and her little friend, Diary. All the stories are part of the Summer Fiction Series Challenge. You can read the rest of my series here:

Part 1:

Part 2:

Part 3:

Part 4:

Part 5:

Part 6:

Part 7:

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