Chapter 6

“Can’t we just ride?” Chris whined. “These Hey Dudes look awesome on me, but they are not made for hiking.”

Anya rolled her eyes. “I told you! I have no idea how far we are from a gas station. If you want to ride your little scooter, go ahead. Maybe you’ll find a station, fill up, and come back to tell us. Then we can risk it. Otherwise, you’ll take off, run out of gas, and have to wait for us to catch up with you, and then you’ll be pushing your bike anyway to find a station.”

Chris sighed. “I’ll risk it.” She leapt on her Vespa and turned the key. The motor whined, but the buzzing sound that irritated Anya to no end was absorbed by the raw, vertical landscape.

Anya cringed. “Good luck!”

Chris slipped her ridiculous helmet over her head and snapped down the yellow visor. “See ya.” The four watched her ride off. She fishtailed in the rough dirt but caught herself and kept going. Anya just shook her head. “That girl is so stubborn.”

“And impatient,” Nikki said softly.

Anya turned with her mouth wide open. “Nikki, I’ve never heard you say anything ... negative about anybody.” She eyed her friend. “Not without some psychological explanation for their behavior.” A giggle bubbled out of both their mouths.

Nikki blushed and lowered her head. “I guess I’m tired. This isn’t how I thought today would go.”

“Well, honey, none of us did. But you gotta admit, it’s still better than sitting at home feeling sorry for ourselves.”

“Is it?” Nikki smiled sarcastically. Tears sprang to her eyes. “Anya, I don’t know if we can get back home from here. Wherever here is!” She stared at the ground a long moment, then lifted her head with a huge inhale. “How far do you think we’re gonna have to walk these bikes before we find gas ... or food.”

“Honestly, I don’t know.” Anya looked ahead to where Chris had gone. “If we keep moving, we’ll find something. I can’t remember what this area looked like before 1963. Assuming that’s where we are.”

Nikki nodded, wiped her tears, and leaned into her heavy Road King to make it roll forward. The others followed her lead.

“I haven’t studied the 60s much,” Ashley spoke while they walked. “My digs were focused on ancient civilizations, but according to TV shows like “Happy Days,” and “Twilight Zone,” I’d think it would be similar to our time, just ... less modern.” She wiggled her cell phone as if it were an exhibit to prove her point. “All analog machines, nothing digital or computerized. Obviously, the highways were different, but they do exist. We just have to get on one.”

The girls didn’t respond, but Anya thought it would be nice to think Ashley would be right. Big black crows cawed from the pine trees as they worked their way south. Were they mocking the women and their grand efforts to conserve fuel?

The sky was unusually clear and bright blue, but a cloud of worry hung over Anya. She could feel the others’ morose emotions. It was as if despair lurked just beyond their peripheral vision but could come into view at any moment and overwhelm them all to the point of rendering them paralyzed with fear.

Continuing to move forward seemed the best defense against the overpowering desperation they fought constantly. So, Anya put one foot in front of the other, no matter how difficult it was becoming. Exhaustion crept into her back and legs, her lungs heaved for more oxygen that didn’t exist this high in the mountains. She couldn’t give up.

Somehow she knew if they didn’t keep going, they would die, right here in some other time where no one would ever know who they were, because their records of existence, like birth certificates, driver’s licenses, social security cards, career licenses, didn’t exist, not yet, anyway. Anya swallowed the swelling panic. She had to stop thinking like this. But it was so hard not to think about all the reasons they could not just disappear today.

Assuming anyone found them, would they be able to help them? Really help them get back to their own time? This area looked to be very isolated, except for the wildlife. What did the crows or chipmunks care if they laid down and died? Scavengers and bugs would eat their flesh and pick their bones. A balance in nature, but a horrible end to their existence. All for a rebellious Valentine’s Day ride to Silverthorne. Now, it seemed such a stupid idea.

Would they survive this trek through the Rockies on foot? Anya drew in a deep breath, wishing for more oxygen. They had to. Like she always told her patients, attitude is 95% of recovery. She had to be positive! Focus on this step, then the next. Gradually, they were moving forward and soon they would find a place to rest safely. At least the weather was warmer on this side of the divide ... if that was where they were.

What would they find ahead? If it weren’t for the rough, rugged terrain, Anya would give in and suggest they ride, but that might be more dangerous with their street bikes than pushing them.

After some time of walking in silence, Jackie Lynn stopped. “Do you hear something?”

A cloud of dust and a faint high-pitched buzzing came toward them. Anya stopped and shielded her eyes to see. Was it Chris?

“She found a gas station!” Ashley smiled.

They waited until she pulled up to them and yanked her helmet off. Her braids bounced out from the compression of the helmet. “You’re not going to believe this!”

“Did you find a gas station?”

“No. But I found a ranch ... uh, an unpainted log house, and barn, a corral of sorts, made from split timber, some smaller buildings— I suppose for storage? Maybe?— and a long narrow ... bunkhouse. I’d bet my third eye that’s what it was, a bunkhouse. Ranches used to house their workers in one large building, like an open dorm—”

“Chris!” Anya curbed Chris’s rabbit-trail explanation.

She turned to Jackie Lynn, wide-eyed. “I didn’t see a single car, or vehicle of any kind, other than equine and wooden wagons.” Chris swallowed and licked her lips as if she were searching for just the right words. “Ladies ... we may be farther back than 1963. I mean there should be a truck or tractor or something if we—”

“What did you see?” Jackie Lynn demanded. “And don’t jump to conclusions or go off on wild tangents. Farms still employ non-motorized means.”

All four girls stared at Jackie. How did she know so much about farming? She was the Assistant Director of Nursing at the care facility where Anya worked. She excelled at being number two in charge. Shy and rather lacking confidence, she had power in her position but could blame the D.O.N. if anyone got irate about a policy or method. Never had she ever mentioned any knowledge of farming. It only served to drive home how little Anya knew about these friends that she was trying to keep alive through this extremely bizarre and unfathomable event.

Chris snapped out of her imaginative recollections. “Nothing! Just a two-story house, a big barn, a building that looked like a ... a bunkhouse— it looked empty, though. The pastures have cattle and a couple of donkeys. In the barn were two mules and some antique plowing instruments. Depending on what year this is, this rancher is either very poor or quite wealthy.” She tugged her bottom lip under her top teeth. The thing she did often when she was thinking.

“You know, maybe it was an Amish ranch? God, I hope that’s what it was! There was nothing modern about that place, not a gate lock, or barn door handle ... nothing!” Panic rose in her voice.

“But you didn’t see any gas stations? Or Highway 6? Or a town?”

“No.” Chris shook her head, a whimper lingered in her tone as if she were about to cry.

Ashley peaked one eyebrow. “Or a newspaper?”

“No.”

“How much gas do you have?” Anya frowned.

Chris looked down at her gauge, but it indicated empty because her engine was no longer running. “We filled up before the tunnel ... we should all be nearly full, I think, except me ... I don’t know how much I have left, maybe a half a tank?”

“Then I suggest you walk with us,” Anya said.

Chris nodded, put her scooter in neutral, and rolled it around to face the way they were headed. The five women walked toward the ranch Chris had found. Only the crunch of tires on rocks could be heard between a few whimpers and grunts as they worked their way along.

Quietly they pushed their bikes onto the ranch property, parking them next to a split-rail fence that tied the bunkhouse to the barn. There were low bushes and shrubs along this part of the fence which helped keep their bikes out of immediate sight should someone walk out of the barn or house.

Nikki whispered. “You suppose they can help us?”

“Shhhh!” Anya hissed. “I don’t know, but I think we need to be as quiet as possible.”

“Why?” Ashley glared at Anya.

“I don’t know. It’s just a gut feeling.” Anya shrugged.

They crept into the bunkhouse. It looked like a long, rustic dorm room like Chris had said. The smell of stale cigarettes and chewing tobacco lingered in the air. At one end stood a small table and wooden chairs with an abandoned deck of playing cards. They looked faded and yet pristine. Cots made of branch-like frames and tightly woven rope sat in neat rows along the long walls, opposite each other. Some had bluish-grey wool blankets. Others had handmade quilts. None had linen sheets or fluffy pillows. The ones that were bare exposed thin tote-sack-like mattresses. A bookshelf and a footlocker made up the head and foot of each.

Jackie Lynn spied a stack of discarded newspapers on the floor next to the little card table and rushed to them. She squatted beside the stack and lifted one, then another. Slowly she lifted her eyes to meet the women, her mouth wide and her brows high on her forehead.