The Great Winter
Fimbulvetr
TV and radio perfectly captured the confusion of the public. One side emphasized calm preparedness and order, while the other declared the era of struggle for survival and treated it as someone else's problem.
Perhaps someone in their heart enjoyed the situation or waited for the world to end.
While muttering these chaotic voices, I checked the shotgun and medkit in the sleeper cab and organized the trail's stockpiled supplies, spending the night.
The morning at the truck stop was bustling. The sound of engines and the chatter of people from the trucks coming and going all night made it noisy. But this noise still made one feel that it was within the safety created by civilization.
After finishing the morning routine, I had a simple breakfast at the restaurant inside the truck stop and headed to the store. Unlike the empty shelves in the Calgary city, this place still had the warmth of order rather than madness.
Without hesitation, I loaded a few boxes of chocolate, two bottles of Tylenol, three Lucky Strikes, and various sizes of batteries into the cart. Then my gaze turned elsewhere.
'Should I move? WD-40'
'Shouldn't I? Duct tape'
Duct tape was sufficient, so this time I swept up WD-40.
After finishing the morning shopping, I turned the steering wheel south again towards Lethbridge, where I was to wait for Dave. And as usual, I turned on the radio.
Some media and academia used the unofficial name "The Winter of Ragnarök" for the new ice age triggered by the Laki volcano eruption. In Norse mythology, the harsh winter lasting three years just before the end of the world, compared to Fimbulvetr. As a result, the term "The Great Winter" translated from Fimbulvetr spread rapidly through SNS, and the term "The Great Winter" became the mainstream. The government emphasized to citizens that in such a crisis, rational action and community consciousness are more important than anything else...
The anchor's voice dropped a tone after the campaign-like message.
Meanwhile, the Great Winter is having serious effects not only in Canada but also in the northern United States. A tragic news of another large-scale shooting incident in Billings, Montana.
I unconsciously raised the volume.
According to local police, this incident started when a local gang tried to rob a house, and citizens centered around former soldiers fought back. The gunfire between both sides escalated to small-scale urban warfare in an instant, and during this, one gang member who had their escape route blocked fled and indiscriminately shot at citizens in the nearby shopping mall. So far, 17 have died and 48 have been seriously injured...
'They're going crazy.'
A curse slipped out with a mutter. Madness. The moment I heard the news about the world of beasts who had let go of the reins of reason, doubt first arose in my plan.
'Is going to the US really the right choice?'
Much more population than Canada, more guns. That meant more potential threats. Maybe staying here and somehow surviving this winter might be a wiser judgment.
But immediately shook my head.
The ash-gray sky outside and the cold that bites to the bone.
'People can be stopped somehow. Killed, avoided, negotiated, but nature cannot.'
'Can't negotiate or fight with the cold.'
Between the hell made by humans and the hell made by nature, I decided to choose the hell that can be fought against.
The determination to go to the US solidified once again. No matter what kind of hell it is there, at least I won't have to worry about freezing to death.
After the US-originated shooting news ended, the radio moved to international news.
... Tension is rising in the Pacific. The Chinese Ministry of National Defense strongly condemned the US's recent adjustment of the orbit of the reconnaissance satellite launched and announced an unprecedentedly harsh statement. The Chinese side claimed that the new satellite is a clear military provocation to unjustly monitor the country's core interest areas such as the Taiwan Strait and the South China Sea. At the same time, if such surveillance continues, they will mobilize all necessary means to protect national security and take punitive action.
"Haa- ha, now even the Chinese are going crazy."
I clicked my tongue and muttered. I thought China might take the opportunity to see the world freezing. In fact, the US was one step ahead in such things, but it seemed they thought the current chaos in Europe and North America was a chance to add fuel to the fire for China.
While listening to the radio and driving south, before I knew it, I arrived at Lethbridge. It was the last base before crossing the border.
I parked the car familiarly at the Flying J truck stop and took out the document bag. Passport, visa, and W990 ownership certificate. I carefully checked the documents again for crossing the border.
Then, suddenly, I faced the painful reality.
'Passing the border with all these guns and ammunition is probably impossible.'
Even if legally purchased, this amount would obviously be questioned by customs. In the worst case, all could be confiscated.
While pondering the method and sitting in the truck stop restaurant eating late lunch, the conversation of the truckers sitting at the adjacent table came into my ears.
"That guy, said he'll pay generously, but somehow uneasy. Why send along that road specifically."
"Where are you talking about?"
"The old farm road quite a distance east of the Coutts border checkpoint. It's unpaved so rough... and seems like something dangerous, so I just don't do it."
My ears perked up. The route bypassing the border checkpoint.
Naturally, I stood up from my seat and approached their table.
"Excuse me, can I ask what you just said? I'm heading to the Coutts side too, so..."
I smiled as warmly as possible. They relaxed their guard and let me sit at the table after I offered to buy them a coffee.
Starting with the weather, I shared complaints about soaring gas prices, loosening the atmosphere. And after several jokes, naturally brought up the main point.
"So, where exactly is that farm road?"
Not suspecting, they explained the approximate location, remembering my gleaming W990. Listening, I was drawing a new route on the mental map.
After parting with the truckers, I immediately returned to my trailer. Staring fixedly at the large map on the wall while piecing together the fragments of information they spilled.
East of Coutts border checkpoint. Old farm road. Unpaved road.
Fingering the map, following a few faint lines, finally a plausible route came into view.
But immediately, driving this huge truck there would be too noticeable an action. It would be like advertising 'that guy has something up his sleeve.'
Also, this Lethbridge is the city I promised to wait for Dave.
I drove the truck to park near the last rest stop near the border checkpoint, far away.
And again, got out of the Sienna.
'Pre-recon needed'
In the gray twilight as the sun sets, the Sienna ran kicking up dust. After leaving the paved road, the road became abruptly rough.
After several trial and errors, finally hope was found. A dirt road crossing a frozen small creek, relatively firm looking. On the surface, it seemed passable enough.
Got out of the car and checked the condition of the road by stepping on the ground directly.
Continuing along the road several kilometers, far away a two-lane road connecting to the US side appeared with faint lights.
'Found it.'
Finally found the secret passage bypassing the border checkpoint. At the moment I was about to turn the car with a sigh of relief.
Suddenly slammed the brakes hard.
'Whoa, what is this?'
The road was dug out. Approached from the car. Clearly someone had deliberately dug the road. The width was about 3 meters. A normal passenger car or pickup truck would have sufficient width to pass.
But the depth was the problem. The trench dug over 1 meter deep crossed the road like a huge trench. On both sides of the road, old concrete drainage structures stood, so couldn't bypass wider.
Someone had installed the obstacle very cleverly and subtly. This was not to block all outsiders. This was a selective barrier to block only the entry of large things, i.e., large trucks or commercial vehicles like me. The will and calculation to block trucks but allow movement of local residents was visible.
Pickups or small caravans would be able to pass easily. But my W990 was different. Considering the length of over 20 meters, tens of tons of weight, and wheelbase, this ditch was like an un-crossable abyss for my truck. When the front wheels crossed the ditch, the middle part of the tractor would snag, or in the worst case, the frame might break without overcoming the enormous load.
A sigh of disappointment escaped.
"Haa- Somehow it was going well, huh."
I felt like facing a huge trap rejecting the hoped-for passage on the path I thought was the way through hope. I had to find another way.
'Employ a smuggler?'
'No, that's the same as just handing over my stuff.'
'That's not the way to think. Even if it fails, I only lose the guns and ammo, but I still cross the border.'
'How can I survive on US soil without guns?'
'Forced passage?'
'Just ram through the border checkpoint with the truck? I could, but...'
'What about the US side entry office in the meantime?'
Back in the Sienna, countless questions and answers were going back and forth in my head.