by Dave Bowman
23
Daniel Parker held his rifle tight as he waited behind the barricade. He and his cousin, Martin Gomez, had heard the sound of the truck coming. Everyone in Los Gatos could hear when a vehicle climbed the big, long mountain into their town, and the two young men were on barricade duty that morning.
Grabbing their rifles and donning their face masks, they had left the post they had been stationed at. Nine or ten other young men from their tribe joined them, rifles in hand. They had spent the morning watching and listening, waiting for just such an event as this. They had positioned themselves behind the barricade the town had constructed last week, praying that they would have it easy this time.
The moments passed slowly. There was always so much time now, since the sickness had come down upon the earth. Not that Daniel didn't keep busy fishing and helping his sisters in the gardens, and his once a week patrol duty. No, he had lots of tasks to do.
But life felt different now. It was wide open, not so pressurized and tight. Without the phones, or TV, or driving down to the bar in Sandoval, the days had a timeless, eternal feeling to them. His mind had room to stretch out and think.
Over one week ago, they had heard about the sickness at the same time as the rest of the world, and through the same TV programs. They had seen the images of dead bodies piling up in the cities. There were so many dead that the living couldn't even bury them all.
His great-grandfather, a tribal elder named Edward, had called a meeting the first night. He spoke in Kiwa, the people's traditional language. Most of them could speak it, but someone translated to English for the handful of children who had not been taught.
"The world has changed, and it will never be the same. The elders foresaw this time, the Dying Time. They spoke of an age when humans would become so sick that they would nearly disappear from the earth. Most would die. The ones to survive would be few, but they would be free again."
Daniel had listened carefully to his words. Though he had not understood all of them, he was spellbound.
"That time has come now. We must return to the earth, to the Indian ways of our ancestors. It is time to leave behind the bottle and the pills. We will hunt, fish, and grow corn, squash, and beans. We will speak our traditional language and live as we did before the great change centuries ago."
There had been a murmur among the people, and the elder had raised his hand to quiet them.
"But we can never leave this, our sacred homeland, and we can no longer allow outsiders to come in. Outsiders may spread the sickness and bring our tribe to its knees. We must protect our home, and we must do so by any means necessary. I have prayed and fasted. I have asked for guidance in the place of vision. This is what I was instructed to tell you."
Daniel had been amazed as he looked around at his friends and family after the elder's words. The entire village was electrified. The Tribal Council convened and decided to follow the great-grandfather's words. They knew it would likely mean extinction if they did not.
They had immediately erected the barricades and appointed armed guards. They distributed face masks obtained from the clinic with strict instructions to wear the mask in case any outsider approached. They must not come into contact with anyone from outside the village. It meant risking their life, and the lives of all the tribe, if they did.
Nearly the entire village had mobilized with stunning efficiency. They had already been growing some crops, but they quickly made plans to expand the gardens. They would especially need a much larger crop of wheat to make more bread in the wood-fired ovens now that all outside food shipments had stopped. But they'd also need more corn, potatoes, tomatoes, squash, and eventually they would expand the small fruit orchard they had. The heirloom seeds they had saved from generations of crops were especially valuable now. Well-adapted to the harsh climate of the arid land with short growing seasons, those seeds were their future.
The handful of people who kept cows, sheep, pigs and chickens made plans to increase the herds. Now that their days were unencumbered by wage-earning jobs and electronic screens, they prepared fields to grow more feed for their livestock.
Daniel had already gone on two fishing trips with his father, brother, and cousins the past week. They had caught some nice trout and even shot a grouse on the way home. He had been hunting and fishing before, but the new responsibility of feeding his family with what he brought home excited him. He had never felt so alive.
There had been a few members of the tribe that could not make the adjustment. Sadly, they had hidden bottles or drugs in their homes and had overdosed in the first few days. The people had mourned for them and burned sage for them, praying for their souls and knowing that they were now free of addiction.
The ones who remained worked endlessly to make the transition to a new way of life. The contents of the general store, which had always been owned by the entire tribe, were distributed fairly to each family and stored for the leaner times of the late winter. Gone were the days of driving to distant cities to give their precious time in exchange for money. Now, they would feed themselves from the earth and spend their days with loved ones. They foraged for wild plants, ate meat they hunted or fished, and drank from the springs. Now that they had reduced their consumption of store-bought food, their minds were growing sharper and their bodies quicker in just the ten days since the tribe had abruptly changed direction.
It was difficult, never-ending work, but they did it tirelessly and without complaint. Finally, they had a bright future to look forward to. The people seemed happier with each passing day.
At one point Daniel had realized that they were no longer poor, and he had laughed out loud at the simple beauty of it. Rich and poor would soon have no more meaning in a world without money, where everyone would have to eke out a living with their hands. He realized that giving up the modern comforts was the best thing that could have happened to his tribe, and he was grateful to God for the blessing. He and his community had vowed to protect their people and their new way of life with all their might.
The outsiders had tried to come time and time again the first few days of the sickness. Most of the time, they turned around at the first barricade. The ones who made it to the second barricade, the guards had shot at – never intending to hurt them, just to scare them away. The villagers decided the visitors were people fleeing the city as the sickness spread, and they worried about a flood of more and more people coming.
But Edward, whose guidance had led them this far, assured them that there would be fewer and fewer visitors as the days passed. He had warned them, though, that they must remain vigilant.
Edward's words had been true. There had been fewer people driving up the hill to Los Gatos. Daniel wondered if that meant the sickness was killing most of the people in the cities.
Now, hunched behind the barricade, he thought of that vow to protect their families. He, Martin, and the others settled into position. The men waited silently. They heard the engine of a large truck. It came to the first barricade and stopped.
Then they heard it continue forward, and he felt his heart sink. He dreaded the confrontation.
The truck came into view. There were two people, and they were getting too close to the barricade. Daniel gave a warning shot into the air, and Martin shot right after him. They were not aiming at the truck. They did not want to kill the people. They only wanted them to leave. But to make sure they'd never return, they had to give them a good scare.
Daniel squinted and saw a woman leaning out the passenger seat. She was pointing a gun in their direction. Daniel knew the other men saw it too, and the tension was thick in the air.
If the outsiders were going to shoot at them, they would have to return the fire.
24
The shots had startled both Nick and Jessa, and Jessa grabbed her weapon and aimed it out the window. Nick slammed the shifter into reverse and started to turn the truck around. She tried to squeeze a shot off, but was unable to aim while the truck was b
eing turned.
While he was wildly turning around, two shooters from behind the barricade took more shots as Nick struggled to get the car straight on the road. They hit the back tire, blowing it out and making the truck slide as he turned.
He took off fast. The car slipped, skidded and threw rocks, but Nick kept control of it.
Jessa started to aim again, looking back out the window as they sped off.
"No, no, get down!" he shouted as another shot rang out from the barricade. "Do you want to get killed?"
Jessa withdrew her gun and ducked back down in her passenger seat.
He continued to speed down the road. The shooters had stopped their fire, but they were both still in a panic.
"What the hell was that?" Jessa cried, her heart racing. "They just started shooting at us out of nowhere!"
Nick didn't answer. He was panting as he watched the barricade fade away in his rear view mirror. The adrenaline was making his mouth dry and his breath catch in his lungs. They went below the crest of a hill and out of sight of the barricade.
Finally, they felt like they could breathe again, though they weren't safe yet. The rear tire was flat and flopping, but he didn't slow down.
"Damn, that scared the hell out of me!" Jessa said.
"You're crazy trying to shoot at them like that," Nick said, his voice a little raised and angry.
"I was just trying to slow them down. I didn't want them to shoot us dead," Jessa said, turning around to make sure no one was following them as they sped down the road. "And anyway, who are you to talk? You should've just turned around at the first road block! You know, the one that mentioned shooting trespassers?"
Nick didn't answer. They both kept flashing their eyes to the road behind them, bracing themselves to see a truck appear with the shooters on their trail. But none did.
Nick slowed to a stop after clearing the next hill.
"What are you doing?" Jessa asked, on edge.
"I've got to change this tire," he muttered.
"But what if those people show up, with their guns blazing? We'll be ambushed!"
"I have to do it. I'll be quick," he said, jumping out and getting the spare and the tools he'd need.
"But this is life or death. It doesn't matter if we ruin the tire," she protested.
Nick sighed as he started to place the car jack. "If we do too much damage to this truck and can't fix it, that could be a dangerous situation, too. Get out so I can change this thing. Keep your eyes peeled on that hill behind us."
Jessa sighed and jumped out, keeping her gun ready to fire in case a vehicle appeared.
Nick worked fast. "I don't think they're coming after us," he said. "They would've already been here if they'd wanted to kill us."
Jessa didn't respond. She was holding her breath as her eyes flashed between Nick's progress and the road, watching and listening for any sign of a vehicle on the road.
He tightened the bolts on the spare tire and threw the old, ruined one in the back.
"Let's go."
They jumped in, slamming their doors, and in a couple of minutes they had made it to their turn, the main gravel road.
Once they were on the main road, they relaxed a little, but both of them kept checking to make sure no one was following them.
"I think it's OK now," Nick said as he checked the rear view mirror, though still driving a bit faster than normal. "They're not going to follow us."
Jessa exhaled. "They weren't very friendly, were they?"
"I guess they didn't want outsiders trying to take what they have," Nick said. "Can't say I blame them much for defending it. But I don't think they wanted to shoot us. Those were just warning shots."
"Warning shots?" Jessa scoffed. "Shooting the truck was just a warning?"
"If you'll notice, they didn't shoot us. And I think they weren't even going to shoot the truck until you went and pulled your pistol on them."
"I was just doing what I thought had to be done," she huffed. "Just like you did when you drove around the first barricade."
"Well, you've got too hot of a head! You need to stay calm."
"How can I stay calm when people are shooting at us?" she asked, annoyed at Nick.
"You just need to think before you act. Shooting before you think is liable to get you killed."
Jessa was quiet for a moment. "I guess maybe you're right. It's just when those guys in Santa Fe were coming at me, I was terrified. I don't ever want to be caught off guard. In any case, you need to pay attention to 'No Trespassing' signs from now on."
Nick knew she was right. He had been careless and put them in a bad situation.
"Point taken. No more driving around road blocks. It was a bad move on my part."
They didn't say any more. They had both learned their lessons. They were quiet for several more miles.
No one followed them. In fact, they saw no one else at all on the road.
"You know what's funny about Los Gatos, though?" he asked finally, breaking the silence.
"What?" Liz asked, surprised by his abruptness.
"I saw several guns at that barricade. There were at least nine or ten people stationed there. And I just got a glimpse of what was behind them, but it was... strange."
He paused and she watched him.
"It looked like people had been working in that town. A lot. I saw some freshly tilled gardens and a bunch of equipment lying everywhere. Like a lot of people had been working on projects outdoors when we got there, then dropped their gear to hide. I'd never seen Los Gatos look so organized and full of life."
"Well, so what? They're just like us -- trying to get gardens going since we have to live off the land now."
"Yeah, but this was different. It looked like the work of a lot of people. Los Gatos has always been like a ghost town. Not more than 200 people. If Mia's estimate of the survival rate is correct and about four percent are immune, that would mean about eight people should have survived in that town. I'm pretty sure more people than eight are living there."
"Maybe they let in some outsiders, then stopped and put up those barricades."
"Maybe, but that town is a Watlah tribe. They're not too open to outsiders joining them. They did business with outsiders, and they've always been friendly people. But from what I understand they wouldn't let other people join their tribe. I have a feeling there's something else going on. I don't think they lost that many people."
"You think the virus doesn't affect them?"
Nick's hand rubbed the short beard he had started to grow. "Maybe. Or maybe they sealed themselves off before they got exposed to the virus. That would explain the very unfriendly welcome we got. They don't want anyone bringing in the virus."
Jessa thought about that. "That's wild. No exposure at all. Well, more power to them if they can pull it off. I guess I'd be shooting from behind the barricade too if that were my village."
Nick nodded. "So, we still need to get supplies. I'm going to go down to Jemez Springs and see if that store still has food on its shelves. If it's all cleaned out, we'll have to head east until we find some food."
Jessa looked out the window at the trees rushing by. There was a good chance they'd end up in Santa Fe. She knew that store where she had met Charlie was too small to have much food, and all the towns between there and Santa Fe were tiny and likely to be cleaned out. She tried to hide her excitement, but all she could think about was going to Chris's house. She knew Nick wouldn't like that, but she couldn't think of anything else.
25
Liz and Charlie had finished another morning of gun training. She was now fairly comfortable with the revolver and the two hunting rifles, and she felt she'd be able to use the guns in an emergency situation. Even though they hadn't fired many shots, careful to conserve ammo, her aim was deadly. Mia had also practiced handling both guns and taking a shot or two.
They had a decent amount of ammo, but Charlie hoped Nick would pick up some more in his and Jessa's trip. There would
n't be any more stores to buy a few extra boxes anymore.
Now, the three of them were laying some booby traps as Nick had instructed. He had a lot of wire in the tool shed, and they were tying that between trees low to the ground and in key areas surrounding the meadow. Later they would attach alarms to alert them of any intruders to the area.
"We're going to need more wire," Liz said, standing up and stretching her back. "I'll go get it."
"Will you bring me a glass of water while you're up there?" Charlie asked.
"Me too," Mia said.
"Sure," Liz said, and started to trudge up the hill toward the lodge. It was another hot day, and she was sweaty and tired already.
She approached the tool shed, happy to be taking a little break from the monotonous work of tying wire all over the property. Just as she reached for the door handle, she saw movement in her peripheral vision. She froze, looking into the woods just behind the shed as she heard the leaves rustle.
Not again, she thought. She felt silly getting startled at every little thing in the woods. She reached for the shed door, but heard the rustling again. Her hand flew to her holster as her heart pounded wildly.
More rustling, then a voice.
"It's me, it's James," came the whisper. "It's OK, it's just me."
Her pounding heart slowed down a little, but not much. Her brain told her there was no reason to be afraid, since James had not hurt her before, but her body still tensed.
James emerged into view before her as he walked out from in between some trees. She stiffened, her hand still on her gun.
"Don't be afraid," he said.
"What are you doing up here?" she hissed. "You followed me to the lodge?"
"I was looking for food," he said calmly, taking another step forward.
"But how did you know to come here? The last time I saw you was down by the vehicles." Liz's fear grew. "Have you been spying on me?"