Six Feet From Hell: Crisis
“Kingwood, West Virginia was by no means a major metropolitan area; the population at its peak had been a shade under 3,000. The few grocery stores, pharmacies, and the lone bar in town were derelict and nearly flattened. The past several years’ worth of snow had caved in nearly every roof in the small town, making it look like a deflated version of its former self. The mini-convoy meandered through town in the constant snowfall. There was a little over eight inches of wet, heavy precipitation t...hat covered the road. It was making it slow going even for the two-and-a-half-ton trucks and their nearly two feet of ground clearance.
It took over an hour just to reach their main road of travel, the former route of US 50. US 50 would take them to meet with Interstate 79, a considerably wider road. Before leaving Camp Dawson, Curtis had weighed the risk of taking back roads and the ill-maintained routes that would keep them away from major metropolitan areas. He’d finally decided to stay with the traditional course.MoreLess
It took over an hour just to reach their main road of travel, the former route of US 50. US 50 would take them to meet with Interstate 79, a considerably wider road. Before leaving Camp Dawson, Curtis had weighed the risk of taking back roads and the ill-maintained routes that would keep them away from major metropolitan areas. He’d finally decided to stay with the traditional course.MoreLess
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