Page 27 of Exit Strategy
When the bug-outs were repacked, after this, I would have to evaluate how much bail money I had in the bag, and have a way to access my online money, maybe have a quicker option to move it into other accounts, where it couldn’t be tracked. In a few years, it might not even be an issue. More and more places were accepting cryptocurrencies.
We hit the faded plastic Burger World, and Callie seemed genuinely shocked by what the place was like. “What, you’ve never been into a B-Dub?” I asked.
“Well, no,” she said. “I’ve never been in a place like this, any of the fast-food franchises.”
“Am I going to learn about their environmental problems?”
“If you want, I can tell you, but really, it’s because the food is cheap, and Arik and the New Eden Centre were more interested inhaute cuisine, you know, farm-to-table and sustainable food practices. We almost always had a chef on staff. I don’t know the first thing about cooking, which is probably going to be a problem.”
“It’s not hard. I can cook a few things, enough to feed myself without relying entirely on drive-thrus and food-delivery rackets,” I said. “And when we get where we’re going, I will show you some food that doesn’t come wrapped in paper.”
“What, you know how to cook?”
“Fish, and meat. Nothing fancy. I can manage a goulash, spaghetti Bolognese, chips, that sort of thing. Learned a lot in Afghanistan, ate a fair bit of camel. I don’t recommend it.”
“I can’t imagine eating a camel.”
“They taste like they smell, and then it’s the devil’s choice – the same tired MREs, or local burnt camel, ugh.”
“That sounds awful.”
“There were some days that I would go without because being hungry was better than having stomach cramps. When I ended up back in civilization, all I wanted was honeybuns, chips, and hamburgers.”
“There were some days that I didn’t eat either, but it’s not the same,” she said, brushing a few strands of hair out of her face. “I sometimes didn’t eat because there was a lot of pressure to remain a certain weight. I am a celebrity’s wife. I have to look the part of the trophy. There was a chef, a dietician, and a sports coach to make sure my stomach stayed flat. My job was to stay as pretty as possible and get pregnant as many times as possible.”
“I wouldn’t want to live like that,” I said.
“Iwon’tlive like that. Not again.” She sighed, and her wobble was noticeable enough that I moved to catch her. I ended up just putting a hand on the small of her back, bracing her. She recovered quickly, and I knew that we needed to get this wrapped up and head back to the hotel.
“Burgers and a milkshake, then back to the room?” I suggested. She nodded, and mostly leaned against the cart for what remained of the shopping excursion.
* * *
Callie’s appetiteseemed to surge in the presence of chips from Burger World, I mean,fries. I still stumbled calling chips by their proper name when everyone here insisted that they were fries. There was one thing that B-Dub excelled at was consistency. The burgers were almost identical to the ones that came from the joints in California. The same vaguely sad patties, questionable quality meat, wilted lettuce, and the secret sauce that was really just some orangish salad dressing.
The milkshake was also well received, and it might have been the single largest intake of calories I had seen her consume. That did make me feel a bit better. The rest of the evening was quiet. She seemed to be well adjusted to long periods of being as small as possible with her books. She would look up from time to time, like a meerkat. I recognized that nervous situational awareness. She was used to trouble appearing from any direction, at any time. I wanted her to be able to relax, and not have that anxiety.
The best I could do was put on the television, the volume down, and then just sit quietly, making as little movement as possible. Clearing my throat could make her jump, or even just shifting in my seat would have her head of fiery red snapping up in alarm, fixing me with a worried look, a cautionarywhat is he going to do next,in her eyes. I could only imagine the hell she lived in to have these sorts of ingrained behaviors.
The next morning, we left out early, putting tires to pavement before the sun was up. It was easy to do. With nowhere to go, and nothing to do, we turned in early. It was difficult, pulling up the discipline to not let my mind wander to what she wore to bed, a hairband. She seemed completely unaffected by me being there, occupying the far side of the large bed.
It made the next day of driving a special sort of hell with nothing but the nagging memory of it to dwell on as I drove.
There was a certain austere beauty to the states we drove through – desolate and empty. There were colors to be seen in the rocks, and perhaps, if I had been a poet, I might have been more appreciative.
Instead, it reminded me of Afghanistan.
I had gone through those mountains, being shot at by snipers, mortar shells lobbed at me, and never knowing if any rough patch in the road was just a rough patch or a buried artillery shell with a compression trigger wired into it. It made me tense.
The upside was that the roads were better here, and the chances of being shot at seemed less.
My nerves left me feeling exposed, and the only thing I could do was turn the radio on and listen to country music, or whatever else the antenna could pick up.
Lake Valley was one of the worst named places I had come across in a very long time. There was no valley, for starters. After driving for over twelve hours, traversing three states, it was barely a bowl. It wasn’t even a basic, a depression, it was a plain that was sad in the middle. There was no lake either; it was simply dust and scrub.
What there was, was a cluster of buildings – a school, a store, a town hall, and a number of houses.
It was fully part of one of the Native American Reservations, and it boggled my mind that a place like this could exist inside the United States. It reminded me even more of the villages high in the Afghan mountains. The people wore different clothing, but the feeling was the same – desperate and defeated. I could feel this place pulling at me, reminding me of the weight of my flak vest, the discomfort of the armor, the harness, the helmet strapped to my head.
