Chapter 12, Thunder Road As I stared at the deck of cards laid out on the table before me, the intricate designs of ink swirled and danced in front of my eyes, making me feel dizzy. Suddenly, an animation appeared within the cards. Tabatha was chasing a small fox through the maelstrom of swirling patterns. With each card the fox ran through, it would just narrowly escape Tabatha's snapping jaws and disappear into another card. The chaotic scene played out like a bizarre episode of the Roadrunner meets Twilight Zone. I could even hear Tabatha's ferocious roars filling my ears. Suddenly, a deep voice broke through the chaos in the room. I turned to see Grandpa James striding towards us, his large frame towering over the table. He took a quick glance at the cards before turning his attention to me. It was hard not to stare - he looked just like my father, but taller and with more wrinkles. His presence alone commanded respect and admiration. "Ah, no, you haven't broken the cards," he said with a hint of amusement in his voice. "But it seems there's a mischievous spirit trying to break into our bunker, and Tabatha is on the hunt." My eyes widened. "You can see Tabatha too?" "Of course I can. She's been the family's guardian spirit for generations. Although I must say, making her a T-Rex this time around is quite creative. She was a basset hound for me back in the day." A small smile played on his lips as he reminisced. "I named her Princess. She would roam the halls at night, howling at imaginary intruders." "I thought she was just my imagination," I said. Grandpa James chuckled. "Nope, she was originally a Raven when Grandma Rose brought her here to guard the mine. I didn’t know what to say, other than I’m pretty sure I’ve gone stark-raving mad. I know I told Grandma Rose I believed now, but saying you believe something when it’s fairly obvious you’re insane doesn’t mean what you believe is real. I didn’t really believe in magic, but apparently my subconscious was determined to continue my magical adventure. “Can I just have a nice lazy imaginary adventure floating down a river on a comfy raft?” I asked. Grandpa James only laughed. “You do know Mr. Twain was a powerful wizard, don’t you?” My mind reeled at the thought. Maybe he meant it metaphorically, as in Mark Twain was a wizard at writing wonderful stories. And then, with a flick of his wrist, Grandpa James plunged his hand down into one of the cards and caught the fox by the tail as easily as if he were picking an apple from a tree. The fox struggled and tried to bite him, but Grandpa James held on tightly and lifted it up like a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat. As the fox was pulled out of the card, it transformed into a real-life fox right before my eyes. Tabatha, still in her cartoon form, poked her head out from another card and gave the fox a fierce glare. In response, the mischievous animal stuck out its tongue and made a rude noise, causing Tabatha to huff and cross her arms in frustration. Still holding the fox by the tail, Grandpa James glanced at Tabatha. “Go find how he got in and seal the hole, we don’t want anything dangerous crawling in.” Tabatha huffed one more time, then disappeared back into the card. I watched her run through the cards while sniffing at the ground, and then vanish off the edge of the cards. Grandpa James swung the fox over to the chair opposite me at the table and dropped it. “Well, little fox, what do you have to say for yourself?” asked Grandpa. As the fox shook itself, it transformed into a young boy with dark, ancient eyes. He wore traditional Aztec clothing, complete with a headdress of vibrant red feathers that slipped down to one side of his head. His long, curly hair added to his wild appearance. The boy turned to me with curious eyes and sniffed at the air. His intricate tribal robes, adorned with feathers and beads, shifted in the dim light, making it difficult to focus on him. His gaze shifted to Grandpa James who stood next to me. "You are no longer the Prince of the Blue Mountains," the boy stated, tilting his head. James chuckled and patted my shoulder. "It was time. My grandson is now the Prince of the Blue Mountains." The boy frowned, studying me with suspicion. "He is a deceitful tiger, playful yet deadly to approach. He taunts his prey before he takes them. I don't think I like him." James laughed heartily. "You are not wrong, he has done that, yet you also once said I am a serpent, sly and cunning, striking when least expected." The boy shrugged nonchalantly. "I spoke the truth." James reached out to adjust the boy's headdress, but it only slipped again to the side. "What brings you here, Son of the Great Fox Spirit?" The boy sat up straighter, his expression turning serious. “Didn’t you see, the humans stole the power of the gods and used it to kill the world. We need your help.” I was completely lost and had no idea what was happening. Trying to make sense of the situation, I blurted out, "Who is this boy? And why am I supposed to be the Prince of the Blue Mountains?" Grandpa James let out a deep sigh and pulled up a chair, its old wooden frame creaking under his large frame. "I suppose I should have prepared you better, but I was thrown into this role myself." He paused before continuing. "During the Depression, people were suffering. As the owner of a struggling mine, I couldn't bear to lay off hundreds of men who relied on us for their livelihoods. So, I turned to moonshining as a way to feed our community." His voice grew heavy with emotion. "And that's how I became known as the 'Prince of the Blue Mountains' among the desperate families we helped. And as the situation worsened, not only did humans turn to me for aid, but also the animal kingdom, and those from the magical world. But, Johnny, I’m only a shadow memory now. I died thirty years ago and can no longer protect anyone. I’m asking you to take up where I left off.” “My dad said you lived to be 97 and that you were the greatest of all the Robinson's,” I said with admiration in my voice. “Grandpa Walter thinks my hero is Doc Holliday, but I think it’s you.” A warm smile spread across my grandfather's face as he replied, “Your father was a great man, but not for the reasons you might think. He didn’t have access to any of the Robinson magic, yet he still became the Forestry Service’s best Search and Rescue paramedic in history. He had more successful rescues than anyone else, ever. That’s who your hero needs to be.” As I processed his words, my eyes drifted towards the Aztec boy playing with a feather that had drooped down in front of his face. “Who is he, and why is an Aztec boy all the way up here in the Blue Ridge Mountains?” My grandfather's expression turned stern as he responded, “What do they teach you kids in school these days? The Aztecs were here long before we were, by about 15,000 years. They occupied most of Mexico and Southern Texas, and had tribes spread all over North America. This is Takala, the youngest son of the Great Fox Spirit. His father gave him the Blue Ridge Mountains to guard after he was born, which was right around the beginning of the Aztec Civilization.” I shook my head in disbelief. “Wait, he’s 15,000 years old? But he looks like a seven-year-old boy.” My grandfather chuckled and explained, “Spirits age differently than we do. His father is 300,000 years old and came to North America with the first red fox that migrated here during the Illinoian ice age." I rubbed my temples, trying to ease my growing headache. This was a lot to expect me to believe, and truthfully, it all seemed too far-fetched to be real. I wanted to believe, but I know I’m alone and cut off from all human contact. My brain is doing this to try and keep me from going insane. Who knows how long I'll be here, maybe I really am losing my mind. But, I’m going to be alone for probably the next thirty years until the sun comes out again and the ice storms outside end. Someone will find me in thirty years sitting in a corner talking to myself. With a heavy sigh, I decided to play along with this "fantasy." I leaned forward in my chair. “Okay, so what does he want?” I asked. “That is a good question,” replied Grandpa James. “Takala, what exactly do you need from us?” Takala climbed up to stand on the wooden chair. "My father has called me home. I need to take as many survivors with me as I can, but they are hiding in their burrows and will only come out if I can protect them. We'll use the Thunder Road," he said. “Ah, so that’s the plan,” said Grandpa James. I didn’t understand. “What good would the Thunder Road do them, it’s covered in three feet of snow and ice - they’ll freeze.” Grandpa James tossed me a set of keys. They jingled in the air before landing in my palm with a soft thud. "The Cadillac is yours now, kid," he said with a grin. "Get it warmed up while I handle some business with Takala." He held out his hand. "I'll need to borrow some magic, five cards should do it." Not wanting to question further, I picked out five cards and handed them to Grandpa James. As I turned to grab my coat, I caught a flash of movement from the corner of my eye. To my shock, Grandpa James had used the five cards I gave him to tear open a rip in time and space. And just like that, he stepped through to another world. My stomach churned as I caught a glimpse of what lay beyond our reality. It was a place not meant for living humans to see, and the brief exposure was enough to make me feel nauseous. But Grandpa James seemed unfazed, disappearing completely through the rift with Takala behind him before it closed. I quickly reached for the pack I always kept next to the door, stuffed with non-perishable food, bottled water, a mini first aid kit, and some flashlights. These unexpected adventures had become my norm, and I learned to always be prepared no matter what time of day it was. Grandpa's Cadillac sat in the garage just as he said it would, but it hadn't been there earlier when I’d done my daily check of the blast doors. I didn't question it because I was too excited about having my own car for the first time. I didn't have a license yet, only a learner's permit, but that didn't stop me from feeling a rush of freedom and independence at the sight of the sleek black car. My heart raced as I unlocked my car and threw myself into the driver's seat. In my excitement, I had forgotten the harsh reality of the storm outside. But as I turned the key and the engine roared to life, I was brought back to the present moment. I couldn't go anywhere in this weather, but that didn't stop me from pretending. The radio blared old-time Bluegrass music as I sat in my cozy, warm car and let the powerful rumble of the engine soothe me. Sitting in the driver's seat of the vintage classic car, I couldn't help but daydream about pulling into my high school's student parking lot in it. Interrupting my thoughts, I noticed a remote control clipped to the visor. We only had one remote control for the main blast doors, and that one had been in my dad’s truck. I pushed the button and heard the sound of the heavy locks disengaging and the door starting to swing open. I hadn’t expected the doors to open and quickly pushed the button again, but the doors continued to open. I jumped out of the car. I wasn’t prepared for the doors to open, anyone could be outside. I always checked the camera’s first. I got about halfway to the control panel on the wall to close the doors, my hand on my sidearm, when I stopped, my eyes wide at what was outside, or what wasn’t outside. There was no snow, or blizzard winds rushing in. It was a perfect sunny day. I walked towards the open door and looked outside. The burned out forest was now a green and lush forest, with birds flying in the sky, and even a startled fox standing in the middle of the road staring at me. But it wasn’t the fox that surprised me, it was the road. The road was a two-lane highway that stopped at our bunker. That road wasn’t supposed to be there. There was supposed to be a driveway that went to the parking lot where the gift shop was, or used to be, and then from there the driveway went to the left and towards the main gates of the property. I walked outside, expecting the fox to run away, but it just sat down and watched me. The fox wasn’t the same one I’d seen inside, this fox was smaller, and a different shade of red, almost orange. As I walked past the Fox, it looked up at me and smiled. “Hello, when do we leave?” it asked. I’m not sure I was in the slightest bit surprised that it could speak. “Soon,” I said. “I’m the first here, can I sit in front?” asked the fox. I shrugged. “Sure.” The fox bared its teeth in a mischievous grin before darting off towards the bunker. With a perplexed frown, I watched as it effortlessly hopped into my beautiful Cadillac through the open driver's door. As it settled into the passenger seat, its bushy tail swished over the dashboard. My mind raced with questions - all of which I didn’t want to think about, but I did wonder if there would be time for me to go get some blankets, or plastic, or newspapers to cover the seats. My brand new car, or at least new for me, was going to smell like fox. I turned back to the road in time to see more foxes running towards me. Most of them ran past me without a word, but one stopped and looked up at me. “Will there be refreshments?” “Umm… I…” I didn’t know what to say, but the question was answered for me when one of the foxes already at my car shouted, “Hey, there’s a whole backpack of food here.” “Oh goody,” replied the fox next to me, then took off at a sprint to get his share of the loot. I was busy watching the red-furred thieves expertly opening my backpack and nearly jumped out of my skin when a bear lumbered past me with three cubs in tow. “Hey, leave some for us,” shouted one of the cubs. The bears entered the garage without hesitation. The mother bear stood on her hind legs and with practiced ease, pulled the backdoor open with her front paws. She squeezed into the backseat of the car, followed by her three cubs who tumbled in after her. As I watched the bears, two mountain lions silently padded past me. My heart skipped a beat and I instinctively jumped back, stepping off the road. The gust of wind that hit me was frigid, sending shivers down my spine. I looked back at where the road had been and saw nothing but piles of snow. In place of the warm sunshine, there was now only a white expanse of winter. A curious badger stuck its head out from where the road should be, almost like it was peeking through a curtain. “You’ll freeze out there, get back on the road.” What else could I do but obey, it was cold. I took a step back to where the road had been and the scenery around me shifted. The road reappeared, the warm sun and lush forest was back. I looked towards the Cadillac, the engine was still running. Was the Cadillac creating the road? I smacked my forehead. Takala had said we would "use" the Thunder Road. He was talking about the car. It was a magical car that created its own road through the forest, offering a far more picturesque view than reality could provide. The Cadillac must be called, Thunder Road. A cacophony of animal sounds filled my ears and I turned back to the garage, now filled with animals waiting patiently to get in the backseat. I walked back to the car and peered through the window to see what was happening. Inside, a menagerie of creatures was vying for a spot in the backseat of the old Cadillac. One moment, it was filled with excited foxes, then it shifted to the mother bear and her cubs, then to the mountain lions. It seemed that every time I blinked, the occupants of the backseat changed, creating a surreal and chaotic scene. I looked back at the road. There were now thousands, maybe tens of thousands of animals coming, all marching peacefully towards the bunker. Zebras and rhinos mingled with llamas and flamingos, while wolves walked with deer, almost as if protecting them. I was a little concerned when the giraffes showed up, but watching them get in the backseat was another of those questions I didn’t want to ask. But if I thought the giraffes were concerning, it was nothing when a whole family of elephants lumbered into the garage. I noticed ear tags on the elephants, and that explained where they were coming from. Giraffes and elephants aren’t native to our mountains, but I knew now where Grandpa James and Takala had gone, and why they had needed me to give them some of the magic cards to use - they were searching all the zoo’s for any animals that had survived the nuclear attack. This was the greatest animal rescue mission in history, or maybe the second greatest. I laid my hand on the hood of the Cadillac. "By any chance were you an ark in a previous life," I whispered. The engine revved once, but I didn't know what that meant, and maybe it was best I didn't know. The line of animals stretched on for what seemed like miles, but finally, the last group appeared - a rowdy bunch of squirrels scampering and chasing each other. Grandpa James and Takala walked behind them, trying to keep the squirrels walking in a straight line as they insisted on investigating every nook and cranny along the road. Takala, his fur matted and eyes wild, leaped onto the roof of the Cadillac. Grandpa James trudged towards me, his face lined with exhaustion. His clothes were caked in mud and tattered from crawling through abandoned burrows in a desperate search for surviving animals. As he reached me, I could see the desperation in his eyes. Despite the vast number of survivor’s he’d found, it was only a fraction of the pre-war population of animals. Grandpa handed me back the five cards he’d borrowed. “Are you ready?” asked Grandpa. “Yes, but how do I know which way to go?” “Trust the Thunder Road - she’s a very special car.” I slid into the driver's seat of the car, its sleek black exterior reflecting my worried expression. I knew this car could reach amazing speeds, but the weight of my responsibility for the precious cargo in the backseat made me drive cautiously. My hands gripped the steering wheel tightly in the ten and two position as I pulled onto the road. The red fox sat next to me in the front seat of the car, its keen eyes glued to the road ahead. The drive was surprisingly smooth and quick, as if some form of magic had sped us along. I couldn't be sure, since I wasn't wearing my watch, but I estimated that it only took three hours to reach the edge of the Amazon forest. Stepping out of the car and off the road, I immediately noticed the devastation. The outer border of trees was charred and blackened for miles, likely from a nuclear firestorm. However, in the distance I could see patches of greenery amidst the destruction. Despite the chill in the air and light dusting of snow on the ground, there was still a glimmer of hope - the sun was peeking through the clouds. This meant that the animals would have a chance at survival here. Turning back to my car, I found that all of the animals packed into the backseat were already making their way out. Even my fox companion had disappeared into the wilds, ready to thrive in this new world. I hoped that in a few decades, I could be the one to come get them and take them home. Takala didn’t show back up either, he was probably busy getting everyone settled in. I turned the car around and headed back. My eyes were getting heavy and I needed to take a break. “Hey, I need to stop for a rest,” I told the car. But before I could start slowing down, I got an electric shock through the steering wheel that made me let go, then the Cadillac made a hard left turn and I slid over to the passenger seat. The car then corrected itself and continued forward. “Fine, you drive, I’m taking a nap.” When I woke, I wasn’t on the road, or in the garage. I was in the back of the mine where we stored all the old cars and mining equipment. I sat up and looked in the backseat, it was covered with a thick layer of dust. Nobody had been in this car for a very long time. I think I remember now. I’d been back here looking for the electric ATV because the gas ATV was stalling too often from the bad gas. This car had belonged to Grandpa James, seventy years ago. I must have crawled in and fallen asleep and dreamed the whole thing. There was no magic car, just an old vintage car I’d probably never get to drive. I climbed out of the car and made a mental note to clean it up. It would make a nice display, and give me something fun to do. I headed inside, I was hungry. When I got to my kitchen, my heart skipped a few beats. There was a red fox sleeping on my bed. For a second I thought… but.. that wasn’t possible. I reached a hand out to the fox, it suddenly lifted its head and bared its teeth. I snatched my hand back. No, this was just a normal fox, and I think I know how it had gotten here. I’ve been going outside a lot to clean the snow off the ventilation vents. The poor creature was probably cold and slipped inside when I wasn’t looking - Foxes are very fast. Then it probably smelled food and made its way down here. I went to the stove. I’d forgotten to put the pot of stew away. The stirring spoon was tossed aside, and all the meat was gone. My bed must have been a convenient place for a nap after a hearty meal. I turned back to the fox. “It’s okay,” I said softly. “You can stay if you want, I’d like to have some company. I’ll go get some blankets and make you a little den under the work table.” The fox made no sign of getting up as I walk past it and out the door to find the blankets.