Ghastly Revelation

Nearly as soon as I left Sealy, I began to see signs. There weren't as many abandoned vehicles on the road as before and I wondered why with so many in a city the size of Houston, that more people hadn't left town and abandoned their cars and trucks on the road like I had encountered in San Antonio and every other urban area. It didn't make any sense.

And then, up ahead, there was a traffic jam going in. An endless line of cars and trucks for as far as I could see. Many pulled off the road. Even after all this time, there were still signs of many cars turning around and returning back towards the other side of the freeway wherever it was accessible. I, too, had to drive off the freeway to move forward. As I got closer to something called, the Grand Parkway, I saw something alarming. I saw smoke from fires burning far off in the southeast distance in the clear morning blue sky.

There were no nuclear reactors in or around the city of Houston that I knew of from my Google searches. So I imagined that the fires may have been from ruptured oil and gas storage tanks and pipelines that could possibly still be burning after all this time. At least, I guessed that might be it, but had no way of proving. Only getting closer might help me find out, but I wasn't interested in that, just getting past the city and on my way east again. The exit for the Grand Parkway was relatively clear, so I drove along in the muddy shoulder until I got on the ramp and managed to reach the top by shoving a couple of cars out of the way. The trailer was getting to be a  burden in situations like this.

When I got to the top, I opened the door and stepped out to get a view off to the east were downtown should be. I could see the fires burning beyond. But I didn't see a ragged skyline like I saw in Chicago. But, Houston was a big city and, perhaps, I had to drive further in to see the skyline. Traveling south on the Parkway, still quite congested, I soon saw a sign for the Westpark Tollway. I took the Tollway East. It was elevated most of the way, and relatively free of traffic that I thought curious when I-10 was totally jammed. It didn't make any sense. Both were heading east.

After a few miles, I did come upon cars that jammed even the tollway, completely shutting off my progress altogether. I still didn't see the skyline ahead. Couldn't figure it out. By backing up a half-mile, I backed down an on-ramp and had to push some cars aside with the trailer. I ended up on a street called Westpark, still headed in the same direction--east. Almost immediately, I saw a high watermark on buildings that weren't burned down about 10 feet up their sides as I drove along. I already had smelled the stench of mildew in the heated morning air that told me that this part of town had been under water in a flood recently.

Fortunately, it was a clear beautiful day with a little breeze to blow away the smell. But I still had to keep the windows up and the air conditioning on to keep from gagging. Even if there were buildings that were viable, this part of town was a deathtrap when the heavy rains came.

I finally reached I-69 that strangely had hardly any cars on it. Driving a little bit further east, I began to see devastation in the buildings around me that indicated something more than flood, fire, vandalism or deterioration. I slowed to a stop and took a look around. It looked like I-69 disappeared up ahead. I suspected something, so I got out and went back to the trailer.

There was more damage to the back of the trailer from pushing those cars with it than I liked, so I reminded myself not to do that again. I opened the back of the trailer, climbed in and went in search of an instrument that Charlie had found back at Camp Pendleton that he thought would be useful--a Geiger counter.

The Geiger counter was battery-powered. Fortunately, I had some rechargeable batteries of that size that were charged, and I loaded them into the counter and turned it on. Even in the trailer, it began to click loudly. I looked at the gauge and saw that the meter reading was between the yellow and the red range. Indicating that I was in great danger. All I could think about was getting out of that place. I took the Geiger counter with me to the cab and made a quick U-turn in the middle of the freeway, heading back out southwest as fast as I could.

Fortunately, by the time I reached the Grand Parkway again and many more derelict vehicles that had stopped coming into town, the gauge on the Geiger counter was down in the green range again and I felt a bit safer. So, what I heard on those sketchy news reports on the Internet were true . There was a war.  I would have to keep the Geiger counter handy at all times ahead, because I didn't know how many cities or military targets had been hit by nuclear bombs. It looked like Houston was. A double whammy… nuclear war and serious flooding.

Incredulous, I ate my lunch without tasting it. I had to get out of town. I took the Parkway north and then east until I reached I-45. From my maps, that would take me northwest to Dallas. I was afraid that Dallas had suffered the same fate as Houston, so I elected to continue eastward to I-69 again, and then, heading northeast. By that time the fires were to my southeast and much bigger because I was much closer. If I went that way back to I-10, I stood the danger of being exposed to toxic chemicals and the fallout from radiation that was generated by the bomb that hit Houston. I had no choice but to take I-69 northwest. I arrived in Nacogdoches by nightfall and slept there.