Main Road

By Melvin Brown

Tony didn’t know what spooked the ducks, but all at once they lifted off in a commotion. They circled the lake one time, and flew east just above the descending mountainside and out past the crossroad where the long, gravel driveway met the main highway. Tony felt the late afternoon breeze as it began to flow downhill, through the canyon. The days were emptier now, and he was more tuned into daily rhythms. The winds traveled uphill through the canyon early, and back downward in late afternoon. Nippy mornings gave way to noontime heat, which conceded to the evening chill. The daylight continuously changed with the bowing of the sun across the sky. Hazy dawns became intensely bright middays, before settling into orangey-gray twilights. The shadows grew long.

He remembered the hot, demanding hikes he and Lily took through these mountains, how they would stop here at the cabin porch, rest their sore muscles, and regain their breath. They loved this time of day as the sun set and the earth began to cool.

A sound from within the cabin broke his thoughts. Slowly, Tony rose from his rocking chair and shuffled across the creaking porch to the screened door. Inside, the cabin was dark. He carefully made his way to the stool at the small wooden desk in the hallway where he kept the computer. He sat, turned on the lamp, and shut off the beeping alarm. The program activated frequently, warning of wildfire in the region. In the western summertime, multiple wildfires were always burning. He made a mental note to figure out how to adjust the program filters to reduce the size of the alert area.

In the years they lived in this secluded cabin paradise, they received a few pre-evacuation warnings, but only once did they actually have to leave. How disorganized and haphazard their departure was – what to take and what to leave behind. Later, spared by a wind shift, they laughed at their misadventure. But afterwards, Lily insisted they be better prepared, so Tony installed the alert program. They created a go-bag, which still sat ready in the hallway closet. They also established a habit of always parking the pickup heading out the drive for an easy getaway to the main road.

Tony opened the warning system and read the notice of a new wildfire, well off to the west. He left the program open so he could check on it from time to time, but he was not very concerned.

After he made himself dinner and cleaned the dishes, it was time to play. The piano was Tony’s evening companion ever since Lily passed. He was gradually becoming pretty good, he thought. But, how would he actually know? Tony bought the used upright for Lily when they were young, though she never really took to it. She didn’t have the attention span. Over the years, they dragged the piano all over the country whenever one of them changed jobs until they landed here. Neither of them wanted to let the piano go. Tony began to seriously play around with it after they retired and moved to this cabin. He found the music to be mathematical. When Tony first started learning, he played the same song over and over while Lily read. They would lose themselves for hours.

The warning system sounded again. Perturbed, he went to the computer and silenced the alarm. He read the update about the earlier fire and noticed it was growing and not yet contained. He walked to the screened door and stepped out onto the porch. A quarter moon was climbing to the east and the first stars were beginning to appear. It was a crisp, clear night, but he felt the breeze rising as he headed back into the cabin.

In the kitchen, he found himself making a loaf of bread. Lily grew the sourdough starter years ago and became a wonderful baker. Near the end, she taught him how to bake the bread and how to keep the starter alive. 

It was fully nighttime when Tony’s cell phone rang. A recorded message delivered the pre-evacuation warning of a wildfire moving toward the area. Preparations should be made and residents in this zone should stay informed in the case of an evacuation.

Tony walked into the den and, a little nervous now, peered out the west-facing window at the blackness of the night. As he turned from the window he stopped to look carefully at the glass display case on the wall, which held his college boxing gloves. He saved them all these years as a reminder to keep moving forward no matter what. Lily fought. She fought hard for a long time until her body was finally wasted and all her strength left her.

Gently, Tony slid “A Love Supreme” from the collection and placed it on the turntable. He carefully laid the needle on the vinyl and listened as the sound of the saxophone filled the room. He poured himself a glass of Makers, set the bottle on the small side table, and sank into the easy chair. He sipped the whisky and felt the warm bite spread down his throat and into his chest as it dulled the now constant pain in his arthritic neck and degenerating spine.

He woke with a start to the ringing of his cell phone. It was late. The recording announced a fast-moving wildfire was approaching the area and directed him to evacuate. Out the window he could now see a faint, orange glow above the western slope. He poured himself another drink and shot it down. “Damn.”

Exhaling with some force, he pushed his old, tired body to a stand. He scuffled to the hallway closet, lifted out the go-bag, placed it near the front door, then hurried through the cabin, taking stock of his life.

In the bedroom, Tony studied the three, framed prints, which hung on the wall. Lily photographed the beautiful landscapes during the final great adventure they took shortly after she was diagnosed. Through the bedroom window his gaze darted to their mini camper parked next to the cabin. They called it “The Enterprise”. Its mission, they teased, was to go where they had never gone before. The camper sat, unused since that last road trip with Lily. It was hard for him to leave the cabin these past months. He still felt closest to her when he was here. This was where he was comfortable.

Tony retrieved his daypack from the bottom of the bathroom closet. Quickly, he gathered his toothbrush, comb, and pain medication, dropping them into the daypack. In the kitchen, he took the loaf of bread he baked earlier, placed it in the daypack, and hurried once more into the den. The glow on the horizon was brighter now, though he couldn’t see flames yet. Through the window he could see tree limbs twisting, a consequence of the growing wind. He turned slowly around and scanned the room, trying to etch it into his memory.

As if faltering under a heavy burden, he dropped onto the edge of his chair. He sat still for a moment trying to gather himself and noticed the mostly full whisky bottle and glass still sitting on the side table next to the photo of Lily. He unzipped the daypack to place the bottle inside, and stopped when he saw the pills.

Tony stared at the picture of Lily, whisky, and the bottle of pills now also sitting next to her on the side table. He recognized the faint odor of smoke as he leaned back into the chair, thinking. Gently, he lifted the photograph and held it in his hands. Softly, slowly, he ran a trembling finger along her cheek.

To the west, on the mountainside high above the cabin, the wind ripped downhill ahead of the swelling blaze in a resounding din like fury and grief. Glowing sparks floated far along the eastern slope, igniting dry grasses and underbrush in the spots where they eventually landed.

Embers lit the rear part of the cabin roof first, erupted into flames, and quickly spread downward along its western wall before engulfing the rest of the structure. The flames burst into the sky, fueled by seasoned wood and propane, as smoke rose through the inferno and into the darkness.

Inside the smoke-filled den of the burning cabin, a glass display case lay open and empty on a small side table. In the distance to the east, the taillights of a pickup, tiny camper in tow, turned south onto the main road and disappeared into the night.