We’ve been stuck in construction traffic for 8 hours now. If we leave our vehicles we will die. Part 1
Lauren is in the Honda Accord right behind my truck, with our two cats, but I can’t get out and see her. The last guy who got out was shot in the legs and then run over by a tank.
We set out yesterday from Gainesville, Florida, where Lauren had recently graduated from law school. We were moving to my home state of Maine, to start a permanent life together. The drive was beautiful most of the way, and Lauren and I spent a lot of time on speaker phone with each other to comment on it. A couple of times we passed through rain, and once a really wild thunderstorm that lit up the whole sky for miles. Then, about 8 hours ago, we hit a traffic jam on I-95 just outside of Lewiston, Maine.
I took a look at the navigation thing on my phone, but it didn’t show any red areas of heavy delay. It also had some trouble showing my exact location, though, so I lit a cigarette and figured it would just be a few minutes.
After about fifteen minutes, I called Lauren. “How’s it going back there?” I asked. In the background, I could hear the cats going nuts.
“Not great,” said Lauren. “Do you hear Hankie and Hattie howling? They started up as soon as we stopped. What's going on?”
“Must be an accident that just happened. My phone usually gives a heads up if there’s planned construction or something.” I heard one of the cats hiss while the other one yowled.
“I’m so tired,” said Lauren.
“I know, me too. Let’s stop and get something to eat once we’re through, yeah?”
“Okay.”
“Alright. Love you. Sorry about the cats.”
“Love you,” said Lauren.
I hung up and tried to get something on the radio. I have a base model 2006 Toyota Tundra, so no AUX jack, and the CD player had broken years ago. During the entire trip, I had been at the mercy of radio stations, and for the most part, they didn’t do much for me other than create a general atmosphere of annoyance.
Now, though, I couldn't even keep the radio on. What wasn't warbling static was some kind of distorted robotic voice reading off a list of numbers and random words strung together. Across the whole radio band, same thing. I couldn't take it so I shut it off.
I picked my phone back up and went to check Twitter. All I got was that game where you have to jump the dinosaur over cacti faster and faster and then it gets dark out and the birds come. No internet. Finally, Twitter did half-load, so there was someintermittent reception there, barely.
After a half hour had passed, I started to get antsy, and so did everyone else. People were sticking their heads out the window to try to see what was going on, but it was no use. The line of cars seemed endless. A few people got out of their vehicles to try to get a better look. I got out too and started walking to Lauren’s car.
When I was halfway there, a voice cut into the air. It sounded like someone shouting through a bullhorn. “Return immediately to your vehicles! No one is permitted to be outside! This is your only warning. If you do not heed it, there will be severe consequences.”
“Wha da fuck is goin’ on?!” some guy shouted in a thick Boston accent; he was standing a few car lengths in front of me. An instant later, he was down on the ground, not moving. I didn’t see what happened exactly, but that was enough to make me to hustle back to my truck.
