by Scott Allen
On the higher ground, the underbrush was thick, and each found a place to sleep, lying on a pile of leaves, covered by the tarp, concealed under brush. It did begin to rain, as the forest began to lighten slightly. Dana was glad to hear the rain patter onto his tarp instead of him. He hoped they were invisible. It had been almost 24 hours since either had slept, other than the short nap at Marjorie’s.
He lifted up the edge of his tarp and looked carefully at Blake’s concealment. There was a corner of his tarp poking out from beneath the brush piled on it. The corner had a shiny brass grommet on it that caught the growing light. “Blake … hsst … Blake!” Dana whispered.
“Oh, what now?” Blake moaned.
“Your upper right tarp corner has a grommet on it that isn’t covered. It’s reflecting sunlight. It’s the sort of thing a camera drone might pick up,” said Dana. “Can you turn the corner under?”
“All right, all right!” Blake replied. Satisfied, Dana settled down himself. The rain began to pelt down and cool him off.
When Dana woke, it was late afternoon. He heard no sounds except the rumble of traffic on distant roads. It was hot and very humid underneath the tarp. Dana used a twig to raise the edge of the tarp a few centimeters and peer out. Collected rain ran off the tarp. Nothing but underbrush and trees. He shifted a bit and raised the edge in the direction of Blake’s tarp. No movement. No birds that might be camera drones, as far as he could tell. They were all twittering. It would be at least four hours until dark. He would be hot and uncomfortable, but at least he would be alive. He tried to sleep again.
The last two hours before dark were the worst. Dana had itching bug bites over most of his body, was covered in sweat, and was thoroughly miserable, having to keep still. Finally, when he peered outside the tarp, it was dark. No lights from any houses or buildings that might have been nearby, although he didn’t think there were any. There was no noise but insects. He whispered, “Blake! Blake!”
“Yeah. I’m here,” came the reply.
“I think we can go now. Let me get up first and see if there is anything out there,” whispered Dana.
He stood up, debris falling off the tarp, and stared around. Nothing. Only insect sounds, no drones as far as he could hear, no lights moving along the roads, no lights from homes or buildings. “Blake, it looks OK,” he said quietly. Blake stood up. They quickly folded their tarps and repacked them. They sat down with their food packages and water bottles, and ate and drank, covering up the packaging. Blake calculated they might make the first target house by morning, if they could travel 20 kilometers in 8 hours. That would be about 27,000 steps over rough ground – three times as much as he had ever walked before. He was already a bit stiff and sore from yesterday. They began walking through the stand of trees, heading east-southeast.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
They had to cross slow-moving streams where there were no bridges, sliding carefully down one muddy bank, leaping over the stream, hauling themselves up the other side. It was more exercise than either of them had ever gotten. Long before daylight, they were both dirty and exhausted, and Blake asked, “Maybe we should call it a night, Dana?” But Dana said no. He reminded Blake that they might be able to lay up for the day in a house with real food and real beds. Dana insisted that they rehearse the address, and keep checking the GPS and map.
Crossing one stream, Dana suddenly realized that his face and arms would be visible in the smallest amount of light, as white as they were. He stopped and picked up some mud to rub on them. Blake asked, “What the hell are you doing?” Dana explained. Blake replied, “I’m not going to do that. I don’t need to,” and quietly laughed. Dana nodded.
It was still well before daylight when they reached a small farmhouse, with a dim light on inside. There appeared in the dim starlight to be a clutter of farm implements at the side of the house, with tall grass growing around and through them. Because of the light, Dana surmised that this house either had its own power supply or was on a different grid from the other farmhouses they had seen at a distance. They knocked on the front door. Nothing. They knocked again.
From inside the house, they heard an elderly woman’s voice say loudly, “I’m coming, I’m coming.” They heard the thumping of a cane on a wooden floor, and then the door opened a crack, showing a very short old woman peering up at them through large, round glasses. Her face immediately showed some shock when she realized it was two men.
Dana quickly said, “Janet? We’re friends of Marjorie, ma’am.”
“Friends of who?” she asked. Obviously, her hearing was not good.
“Marjorie,” Dana said, much more loudly.
“Oh, well, why didn’t you say so? You’re in some kind of trouble, I imagine. Don’t tell me your names. Please come in.” She thumped down the hall, and the two men slipped through the door and closed it.
She motioned them to sit down in her living room. Dana noticed that the dim light was coming from a kerosene lantern, probably some sort of antique. She pointed to a sofa and then sat down heavily in an easy chair. Her long skirt rode up, showing swollen ankles and lower legs. “So, how is Marjorie?”
Dana made sure to speak more loudly, “She’s fine, ma’am, although I think she is having a little trouble with her hip. We are running south to the Mexican army, and she thought you might be able to put us up for the day in some safe place. We’re sorry to have arrived so early, but we can only travel at night.”
“Don’t worry about that,” she said, and coughed several times. “I don’t sleep much anymore. I was already awake and dressed. Anyway, of course I will put you up. We don’t get many visits from the army patrols, but it would probably be best if you hid in the barn under the straw.” She paused. “Gentlemen, I don’t mean to be rude, but you could both use a bath and clean clothes. I’m afraid the water won’t be terribly warm, and washing your clothes will be a job with the electricity out, but let’s get started.” She pointed at Blake. “Why don’t you start? The shower is through there. Take the kerosene lamp with you, I’ll light another one. Leave your clothes in a pile outside the door. There’s towels in the bathroom.” Then pointing to Dana, “You can help me with washing up his clothes.”
Dana helped her get out a large aluminum tub and fill it with a water hose attached to the kitchen sink tap in the dim light of a kerosene lantern. They put Blake’s clothes in the tub with some soap powder and stirred them around. The warmish water turned darker in the dim kerosene light. Then, she took the dripping clothes out of the tub, huffing and coughing a bit, and plopped them in the sink to rinse them. “Would you empty the tub out the back door, dear?” Dana took the two handles and discovered he could not lift the tub.
Blake had come out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around him, and took one handle. Between them, with a lot of effort, they carried it out and dumped it into the night. Then, Dana showered and helped Blake dump the next tub of brownish water. Janet had wrung out their clothes as best she could, but they were still wet. She gave them both bananas and muffins to eat.
“Gentlemen, it’s going to be light soon. You had better head for the barn. Here’s some blankets. I guess you ought to put the clothes on the hay until they dry. Now, here is a beeper set to vibrate. If I hear someone coming, I’ll activate it. Put it under your head. If it vibrates, hide yourselves and your clothes under the hay. Watch out for cowpats on the barn floor. The cows are gone, but I haven’t been able to clean up yet.”
Dana and Blake started to express their thanks, but Janet waved them away. “Ever since they took my husband away, I’ve been determined to help any man that I can. Now, scoot out to the barn.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The barn had a hayloft, stacked high with loose hay, barely visible in the dim light, with a ladder leading up. Carrying his backpack and clothes, Dana climbed the ladder. When he reached the top, Blake didn’t follow. “Hey, Blake!” said Dana, “We need to hide out up here.”
“Didn’t you see the c
ot down here?” said Blake. “For once, I’m going to sleep well.”
Dana was now worried. “Look, Blake, you won’t have time to get up the ladder if a patrol arrives. Better come up here.”
“You heard the lady,” replied Blake. “Patrols almost never come here. Dammit, I’m going to be comfortable!”
Dana tried twice more to coax Blake up to the hayloft, pointing out that he was putting not only himself in danger, but Janet and Dana as well. He had no success, and Blake finally told him, “Fuck off.” Dana gave up and spread his damp clothes on top of the straw. He burrowed underneath with his pack until he was certain he could not be seen. Even though the sun was just coming up, the hay pile was already too warm, smelled like the hay at the back was rotting, and was definitely too scratchy. He put the beeper unit under his head and slept.
The unit vibrated under his head. Bright sunlight came through between the weathered boards of the barn, and Dana could see that a khaki canvas-covered truck, belching smoke, gears grinding, was coming up the drive. “Blake! Blake! Wake up! There’s a patrol!” he yelled down below. Then, he grabbed his clothes and pulled them under the hay. Below, he could hear Blake stirring, trying to gather his clothes.
Outside, the truck came to a stop with screeching brakes. He heard doors open, and a woman’s voice say, “You two come with me, we’ll search the barn for him, you other three search the house. Be careful. Shoot if you see him.” Dana could feel the vibrations as Blake began to climb the ladder, and then a loud female voice yelled, “Stop! Climb down from that ladder!” Blake seemed to stop on the ladder. Then, there was a series of “phtt, phtt, phtt” sounds, and an agonized scream from Blake. Dana heard a thud as his body hit the ground beneath the hayloft. “Make sure he’s dead,” he heard the female voice say, and there were more “phtt” sounds. “He pretty much fits the description, so it’s probably him,” said the female voice. “Take some video for the record.”
Dana braced for someone searching the hay in the loft. His mind raced. What could he do? He decided he would not meekly surrender to death. As soon as he heard someone reach the level of the hayloft, he would fly out of the hay, try to grab her weapon, or at least push her off the ladder.
There was a commotion at the barn door. “Let me go, you bitches!” It was Janet. From the sounds, it was apparent she was being dragged into the barn.
“Okay,” said the female voice. “When did this man arrive here?”
“I don’t know, I’ve never seen him before!” Janet yelled.
“Really?” Said the female voice. “Then where’d he get that nice fluffy towel? And his clothes are still wet from being washed.”
Another female voice, “There’s soapy water that’s been thrown out the back door, too.”
“I did my own laundry!” Janet screamed. “I don’t know this man!”
“Really?” said the first female voice. “I wonder if a bullet to the kneecap will help you remember?” There was a “phtt” sound and Janet screamed horribly and began crying loudly in pain. “Now, who is he? Are there any more of them here?”
“Aaaaaa ... aaaaa…” she was crying. “Alright! Alright! He arrived this morning, alone! I let him wash his clothes. That’s all there is, damn it! Now, you can go straight to hell and shoot me like you bitches did my husband!” Dana heard a series of “phtt” noises.
“Death to traitors! She had a lot of nerve using the B-word! Video it. Let’s get out of here,” said the first female voice. Dana heard the truck doors slam and the loud rumbling, grinding noise of the engine trying to start. He heard cursing from inside the truck. Then, the engine caught. And he heard the crunching of gravel as the truck lumbered away. All was quiet.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Dana let the time pass. He could tell from the angle of the sunlight through the boards that it was late in the afternoon. Finally, he crawled out of the hay, put on his still slightly damp clothes, and when he could avoid it no more, looked down to the ground. There was Blake, naked, lying face up. Or, what was left of his face. His chest looked like someone had hit it with a big sharp tool three times. Blood was everywhere around him. His body was paler than his normal dark complexion. Janet was sprawled nearby, blood everywhere around her. There were only small bloody holes in the front of her blouse and one in her knee. Dana wanted to cry. He wanted someone, anyone, to save him from this nightmare. He was alone, and the people who had helped him had died horribly. He was trembling with fear, and began to wonder if he had done the right thing by running.
He had to think, think of what to do next. He couldn’t stay here. He told himself that he had to pull himself together, and to be bold. He told himself he could do it. It was either be tough and carry on, or die. He took a deep breath. Now that he had told himself the die was cast, he began to calm himself a bit.
He had to head towards the next target house. He stared between the boards of the barn, looking in every direction for anyone, or anything, moving. Nothing was. He could only hear the sounds of insects buzzing and clattering, whatever they were. He had noticed that singing insects stopped their characteristic noise when he and Blake had gotten near them, so the continuous noise he heard gave him some confidence. Finally, he strapped on his pack and descended the ladder.
He felt the heft of his pack, and thought he might see if there was something useful in Janet’s house. Then, he would raid Blake’s pack. He stopped at the edge of the barn door and carefully surveyed the area. Nothing. Inside the house, he found that the food in the refrigerator was warm, but not yet going bad. He made several sandwiches and wrapped them in waxed paper, and took some apples. He took a large knife from the kitchen and wrapped it in a hand towel. He refilled his water bottles from the tap. Then, he went back to the barn and stuffed Blake’s hand-light, tarp, and some of his nutrition bars into his pack. He looked down at Blake’s body, the blood beneath it beginning to thicken and draw flies. Blake had been a fool. He didn’t deserve death for taking the risk he had taken, but that had been the penalty nonetheless, and Janet had paid, too. The simple risk/benefit calculation Dana had made had convinced him to hide himself. Some people, he thought, weren’t prone to thinking clearly.
On the map, he saw a forest directly in his path, and realized there were no roads cutting all the way through it. That looked like an ideal place to traverse, and he started walking south-southeast. It was dusk, so there was some light, but Dana felt he had to get away immediately.
Every kilometer or so, he came to a road, and checked it out carefully before scampering across. The first time he found a muddy creek, he rubbed mud on his face and arms. The mud helped with the mosquitos, anyway. The light began to fail, and his eyes began to adjust to the darkness. In short order, he reached the large wooded area, and began to breathe a bit easier. He knew that as he approached the Texas border, he would probably encounter more and more evidence of the army, and his progress would become slower and more dangerous. He also realized with surprise that he was now not terribly worried. That was new for him. He began to feel as though he could handle what was thrown at him. His suppression drug must be wearing off, he thought.
Once inside the forest, Dana picked trails through it, always trying to head south. Sometimes he had to use his hand-light to see the trail. He was learning to move quietly, to place his steps to make the least noise. His test of his own silence was the volume of insect noise. When the volume didn’t decrease, except within a few feet of him, he felt he was moving silently enough. At one point, he saw a deer grazing silently in the low moonlight between some trees. Dana stood perfectly still and watched the deer. After a few moments the deer looked up and stared directly at him. It seemed confused about whether what it saw was a threat or not. Finally Dana made a small movement and the deer vanished, leaping away with almost magical silence itself.
He had been traveling for a few hours, so he decided to stop to eat. By the sound of it, there was a brook in front of him, and he could make out some fallen trees ne
arby. He sat down on one and opened his backpack, and began to eat one of the sandwiches he had prepared. When he finished, he put on the backpack and was about to work his way across the brook, when he heard rustling on the other side. He froze. There was definitely something, perhaps a large animal or a human, moving through the forest, not caring how much noise it made. Dana was terrified. It was dark, and there was something big over there.
Carefully, Dana stepped behind the fallen tree, and crouched down behind it. He heard the thing rustling and moving from his left to his right, and then he saw it dimly, in a small clearing. It looked like a human, carrying a weapon. It stopped in the clearing and looked around. Then he heard it say, in a deep male whisper, “Never gonna get that deer. Might as well settle down here.” It was a man. And, what was more, he could see the glint of a neck ring. The man sat down with his back against a tree, laying the weapon across his lap.
Dana considered if he should announce himself. He didn’t know if he could trust the man not to shoot him and take his supplies. He might make a useful ally, or he might be deadly. Dana decided to wait for the man to fall asleep.
After a time, the man’s head drooped, and he began to snore. Dana took the large kitchen knife out of his pack and unwrapped it, and left the pack behind the fallen tree. Dana moved very quietly sideways, paralleling the brook. When he judged he was far enough away, he made his way down the bank and over to the other side. The he moved very quietly back to the clearing where the man was, holding the knife in his hand, shaking a little with fear.
Dana could hear the man still snoring. He crept up slowly to the man’s side, pulled the weapon from his lap, and put the knife at his neck, saying, “Don’t move. Be quiet.”