Roads Less Traveled by C. Dulaney

reflex), and was dialing Ben’s number again as I stepped crossed the threshold. Still nothing. Gus was chomping away at his Kibbles-N-Bits in the kitchen as I locked the front door and quickly slammed the bars closed.
    “If the phone lines are down, he would have checked for me online. If, in fact, he knows the lines are down. If not, I’ll send him an e-mail,” I said to myself as I rushed into the study. That room was once a fifth guest room, but since I was only one person in a house this large, I had converted it into a study/library after I bought the place. The computer hummed after I hit the power button, the screen lighting up and casting a blue glow through the room. I took a deep breath and ran my hands over my face. Please let him be online , I thought. Please let everything be okay . I leaned my rifle in the corner behind the desk and sat down heavily in the overstuffed and very uncomfortable office chair. I need a new chair , I thought for the hundredth time.
    After several minutes, the login screen came up and I logged on. I held my breath and crossed my fingers that the internet was still up and running. In my neck of the woods, you had the choice of either dial up or satellite. I had suffered with dial up for a few years before finally saying to hell with it and getting satellite internet. Much to my relief the welcome screen popped right up, followed by my buddy list. No one online. But I did have an e-mail.
    A huge smile broke across my face when I saw it was from Ben. I read through it quickly, grabbed the pack of Camels I kept in the desk drawer, and read it again. Three cigarettes and a dozen re-reads later, I sat back and began to fidget. They had to leave the farm. Had to run. Ben had given very detailed instructions on the route they were taking, as well as details on back-up routes in case the primary went to shit.
    I stood and went over to one of the many bookcases that lined the walls of that room and scanned the shelves. I grabbed the road atlas and flipped to Pennsylvania. After tossing it on the desk, I crossed the room and picked up the old heavy CB radio I had rescued from one of my late grandfather’s yard sales. I cleared a spot on the corner of the desk for it and ran the cord under and over to the outlet. I muttered another prayer and turned it on. Victory , I thought and pumped my fists in the air.
    Ben said they would keep their radios on channel seven. So I twisted dials, turned some knobs, not really knowing what I was doing. Whatever I did worked. The noise faded and the crackling snow stopped. I turned it to channel seven and waited. For what, I don’t know. I was pretty sure they weren’t close enough yet for these to work. I also didn’t want to try calling for him, in case someone else out there was monitoring the same frequency, someone who might not be as friendly.
    Instead I read over the e-mail again and marked their route on the map with a pink highlighter. I used a blue one to mark all the alternate routes. It looked like their main route would take them past only two cities, Altoona and Johnstown. There were smaller towns scattered along as well, but they wouldn’t be actually passing through any of them. I used a red marker and circled the area around Altoona and Johnstown. If they had any problems, it would be there. This route would take them directly in between the two cities. I noticed one of the alternates would have them backtrack and make a very wide loop around the east of Altoona, where they would then move southwest towards me and be fairly free of any other towns. It would take longer, but was clearly the safer choice.
    I e-mailed Ben and gave him my opinions and suggestions concerning this. I told him to stay safe, stay alert, and try calling me on the radio when they were about a hundred miles out. I promised to stay online, but couldn’t promise I would be in the vicinity to answer him since I only had a desk top and not a laptop. But I assured him I