Ch.4 Athena's Gift

Chapter 4

"The belief in a supernatural source for evil is not necessary; men alone are capable of every kind of wickedness" - Joseph Conrad

We rolled into Champaign Illinois about five hours later. That was one of the longest drives I think I’ve ever been on. The scenery outside of Danville is kind of pretty, with rolling hills and trees. But after that it is flat! Flat, flat, flat. Few trees and blocky homes in the distance. It was just as well I guess, we really needed all of our attention on the road and the drivers around us. There were giant craters and potholes big enough to lose small children in. But that wasn’t the worst.

The worst was the line of people on foot at the side of the road. I’ve seen movies where foreign cities were evacuated, and this looked very much like them. I saw a mob swarm over a mini van that had pulled over to the side, probably thinking to take on a passenger. The two men inside were pulled out, beaten and left while about twenty people fought over the van. It lurched forward a few times, and then there was a gunshot. About five people baled out, a body was rolled out and the van tore off into the distance ahead.

We saw that van again about fifteen minutes later, just before the next checkpoint. Its front end was lodged in a crater and the back tires were off the ground. The only way around was to drive in the grass past the shoulder. It was a tricky tense moment; we had to balance slowing down with moving fast enough that the pedestrians didn’t get any ideas.

I thought about George and Irene and their kids. I hadn’t seen them again and knew that they probably hadn’t gotten out of the hotel. As far as I could tell we were the only survivors. Still, I looked inside every red mini van we passed.
***********

It was cool at night, but we decided to camp instead of looking for rooms in Champaign. Camping areas had sprung up along the sides of Interstates, down from the exit ramps. You took a chance when you did it, but after our last town experience we decided it was better than getting stuck in Champaign.

Champaign-Urbana was a big University town. It was exceptionally diverse for this part of the country. In retrospect, I think that had a lot to do with the relative normalcy. We easily found a bazaar area and got some basic supplies for the night. I even found some henna.We set up our tents on the north I57 exit coming off of I74. This should be the last leg of our journey that we could take Interstates for. My mom lived about five miles outside of Paxton, on route 9. That would be the most dangerous bit of driving.

Most of the horror stories about driving on non- interstates outside of cities involved carloads of people going missing. They just disappeared, no one heard or saw from them again. I personally believed that a lot of the missing vehicles were just fine. They got to their destinations and then didn’t let anyone know that they had arrived safely. Communication wasn’t an easy task anymore. You couldn’t just whip out your cell phone or send an email.

Some of the stories about back roads were more problematic. Apparently there was a large KKK contingent in this part of the country at one time in our history. The descendents had banded together and made it their business to ethnically cleanse our society one questionable carload at a time.

We also had small time pirates to contend with, the ones not organized well enough to take on the Interstate system yet. Who knew what other crazies were out there?
*********************

So, we had two tents. I had given up worrying about sleeping arrangements a long time ago, but that was before Jeff came into the picture. Suddenly I had this overblown sense of propriety. I couldn’t be expected to sleep in a tent with A Guy! Fortunately, the guys decided on a shift system sparing me from sleeping in a tent with any of them.

I squashed down the nagging sense of disappointment and went to sleep.

Jason came in and woke me up four hours later. It was about 2 AM and chilly, so I wrapped my extra blanket around me. I could see a few other fires going in the camps around us, but most were banked for the night.

“Lucy.” Jeff nodded at me, handing me a mug of tea.

“Jeff.” I nodded back, pulling out a tin of dry hard cookies. You know the ones specifically designed to sit on a little old lady’s kitchen table for years. Not nutritionally sound, but filling.

“So, how many of the people around us here are not really people?” I began the conversation for the night.

“All of them,” Jeff said calmly as I choked on a raspberry jelly filled shortbread. He patted me on the back. “I was just kidding. You gotta learn to relax woman.”

I took a gulp of tea, surprisingly sweet. I couldn’t help but smile.

“What is this? Do we have sugar?” I asked, taking another sip.

“It called African Red Tea. Not really tea in the traditional sense, but tasty nonetheless. I got it and a bottle of honey in the bazaar yesterday.” He answered me.

“Funny, I didn’t figure you for a tea guy.” I needled him a bit.

“Oh, I’m just full of surprises. Just like you.” He saluted me with his mug. “Jason seems to be recovering nicely. He isn’t eating though, have you noticed?”

“I guess not. He hasn’t said much since the incident in Danville. Is that normal for people who have had a run in with demons?” I asked, a worried feeling starting in the pit of my stomach.

“Demon possession, even a minor case of it isn’t a natural state for humans. We should just give him a little time.” He patted my hand reassuringly, “I spoke to him a little before he got you up. He doesn’t remember anything after he went into the sulfur cloud in the hotel until he woke up in the office at the club. It’s probably best to keep it that way. Let him come to you when he gets ready to talk about it.”

“Oh. Alright then.” I said behind my mug. I was a little miffed that Jason was talking to Jeff and not me in the first place. But, I guess Jeff had been the only one up.

“You know, we all got really lucky in Danville. I am shocked that we survived.” There was a hanging pause, as if he was trying to decide how to say something. “This is probably a sign of things to come. Have you thought about what you are going to do in Paxton when and if the Demons show up there?”

“First of all, I don’t know what the Demons could possibly want in Paxton. And if they do manage to get out to my mom’s place, well, I guess we’ll just deal with it then. Maybe we should have you put some circles down or something.” I said.

“I don’t think I am going to be staying with you in Paxton.” What was that!? Of course he was staying with us, how would we survive the Demons? “ I really need to be in a larger city where I can do more good. I am thinking of going to Chicago.”

“Oh.” I felt really let down. “How will you be getting there?”

“Well, I thought I might show you how to build some of the barriers in Paxton. Teach you a few things. But ultimately, if I can spend some time at the Paxton checkpoint I can probably catch a ride with someone or get on a shuttle.” He seemed to sense my panic. “You are really going to have to figure out how you will survive on your own.”

“I know, and I am very grateful that you are going to take some time to help us learn how to do what you do.” I said, maybe he will decide he wants to stay after all.

“What if…you had to get by without any of us?” he asked. “I mean, what if all of us were gone tomorrow? What would you do?”

“First of all, that’s not going to happen.” I was getting testy. “And, I would be fine. It isn’t an ideal scenario, but I would figure it out.”

“I believe you would.” He said thoughtfully. “But you’re right. Chances are that your group will be together for a long time.”

“Hmmm.” I couldn’t determine where he was going with that. But, I didn’t like it.

We passed the rest of the shift watching the limited night traffic and people in the camps around us. There were a few visits from our neighbors, mostly looking to barter or for news. We skirted discussing Demon infestations with them, instead putting a human spin on events in Danville. It wouldn't do to be ignored as an outright quack if the object was to prevent innocent people from stumbling into Danville. So the Demon touched became a gang that wore trench coats and the Demons themselves became some vague chemical weapon that smelled of sulfur and was to be avoided at all costs.

In return we were warned off of going south on I57, it was shut down at the Tuscola checkpoint indefinitely. Apparently a wave of unprecedented violence in the southern end of the state was just too much.

As the sun came up, Chris stumbled blearily back to the camp. He clearly had more fun than I did, I hadn’t even realized he was gone. In a bizarre ritual of absolution, going back to our high school years, he presented me with a pair of sunglasses. They were cheap pink plastic, put they worked well enough. It’s good to be queen!
***************

We were herded off the Interstate upon approach to the Rantoul checkpoint. In fact, the whole road was blocked off. This wasn’t good…

We were directed to yet another giant overflowing parking lot. Having learned from our last experience though, we chose to drive on towards downtown Rantoul. We could be stuck in one of those parking lots for days once our names got on a list.

We drove past old vacant fast food restaurants and gas stations until we hit a residential area. Clearly it used to be a well to do area, but its proximity to the Interstate had caused the owners to vacate. We pushed on a little further, knowing that between this area and the old downtown was a decent residential area where we could get our bearings.

Pulling over to the side of a shaded tree lined street we decided that we were probably going to have to risk driving the back roads to Paxton. It was only about fifteen miles. We shifted our weapons about within the car, Jeff took the wheel and we made two piles of possible projectiles in case we had to throw things.

As we pulled out of the other side of the ghost town that was once Rantoul, Former Home of Chanute Air Force Base, we saw signs directing us to the New Illiniwek Retreat area. We could only imagine what that meant…

There was an open barricade set up on the road just outside of Rantoul with a group of three people in folding lawn chairs sitting next to it. We slowed down for the barricade and Jeff lowered his window to talk to one of them. They said that they weren’t there to keep anyone from passing. Just to monitor things and help travelers out. That was nice to see. When they heard about the closing of the Interstate they invited us to follow them back to the Retreat. Figuring it was probably pirates; that meant that a pirate presence could be expected on this road, RT 45.

Hunkering down didn’t sound like a bad idea to me. I was curious about this Retreat anyway. We pulled off to the side as the lawn chair people uncovered a hidden ATV pulling a wagon.

Chris didn’t like the idea of stopping again, especially since we were so close. Jason didn’t seem to care one way or the other. I thought this Retreat might prove to be a future resource and Jeff said that we shouldn’t get reckless just because we were close. The truth is, we were all scared of the trip down Rt45. Getting some information before we got underway couldn’t be a bad idea.

We pulled onto a paved road to the left, going towards some railroad tracks. Then just before we reached the tracks it turned into a gravel road, we crossed the tracks and then followed a dirt path through an overgrown field across a road and through another tended cornfield that became a vegetable garden in the middle. It was very impressive really.

As we came out the other side and across another road we saw some old pole barns, a farmhouse and a large campground in the back yard. We slowly bumped along into the front yard, an area set aside for visitors. The folding chair people asked us to wait there for a moment. A greeter would come out to speak with us shortly. There were signs all around proclaiming that All were welcome here, please show courtesy and respect to Everyone on the premises, if you need something please ask-thieves will no longer be welcome, the chairs under the large blue tarp are for the elderly only.

A tall very tanned woman walked out of the farmhouse towards us. She looked like she was in her forties and she had a calm competent air about her. I liked her immediately.

“The watcher’s told me a little about you and what’s going on. Are you all right? Anyone hurt, anyone hungry?” She asked, genuine concern on her face. Seeing that we weren’t in immediate danger of expiring on the spot she handed us small cloth bundles.

“These are tobacco offerings and sage bundles. It is polite to present the tobacco to the residents here if you ask them for help with anything and you’ll want to mindfully cleanse yourself and your area with the sage smoke once you get settled.” With that, she pulled out a hand rolled smoke that became the first in an amazing chain of them. Her name was Jill and we should park the car off to the side and follow her in.

Ok, I was a little leery of leaving the car parked where we couldn’t see it. So were the guys, but the overall sense of safety here outweighed our doubts.

Jill took us around to the back side of the house, past several other campers waving and smiling at us, past a large empty arena area with a pavilion in the center, past the old people tarp and to an empty patch of land recently vacated by previous campers.

“This is a great spot, I’m a little jealous.” She said, “You have a nice tree and some bushes behind you. Take care that you don’t trample them down. We are in the process of expanding the green area around us, and the smallest sapling or bush is critical. You’ll be able to observe the flow of events from here before you join in. And you should observe first. We have some customs here that we observe that outsiders don’t always get right away.”

“I should probably tell you that we consider ourselves to be part of the Illiniwek tribe of Native Americans. Most of us and probably most of you have ancestral roots within other tribes throughout the country. However, in order to live in the good and traditional way of Native Americans everywhere, we have had to evolve our sense of the word Tribe. The Illiniwek were actually a group of tribes that shared language and customs, and that is true once again. We have had visits from descendents of the old Illiniwek periodically and they have given us their approval I am proud to say.” She paused to light up her sage bundle, “I am just going to purify your area here, watch what I am doing so that you can do the same later.”

The guys and I looked at each other. They seemed as mystified as I did, but willing to keep an open mind.

“Listen, after you get your tents up come back up to the main house. You can stay here as long as you need to, but we would like to figure out what you may be able to do for us in return. Every person here is a drain on the system in some way, so contributions of time, knowledge or items are helpful.” She said turning on her efficient heel and walking off. “I’ll see you in about an hour then.”

I guess we had a schedule! That’s ok, it only took us about 20 minutes to set up. We felt a little overwhelmed; I don’t think any of us had camping in mind when we first started following the folding chair people. But we acclimated to the idea surprisingly quickly. Besides, I had a feeling that when we got ready to leave that these people could tell us how to do it safely.

As we pounded the tent spikes into the ground, a very fit looking gentleman with long dark hair casually walked by, dropping tobacco onto the ground and mumbling something. He nodded his head at us with an almost sheepish grin on his face. I got the distinct impression that he was taking care of something for us that we were too oblivious to see.

“Do you think they would care if you put down one of your circles here?” I asked Jeff.

“Oh, I’m putting one down somewhere. It just might be in the tents instead of out in the open. That’s something we should ask about when we go see Jill again.” He answered, dropping down onto a blanket on the ground in front of our tent. We all joined him a moment later and savored the afternoon sunshine for a few minutes.The air was stirred by a gentle breeze that smelled of dirt, green and tobacco. It was a comforting combination that put us all in a positive mood, allowing the fear and stress to melt off of us. The light murmur of people around us wasn’t intrusive, even when a band of laughing children ran past us.