by Joe Nobody
He couldn’t find Nick, but then saw an arm waving about 20 feet away. Damn ghillie suit, I might have tripped over him and hurt myself. Bishop ran over and went prone next to Nick.
“Rovers?”
“I don’t know. I have never have seen Rovers use more than one vehicle at a time.”
They were in a wooded area that overlooked the road slightly below them. In about a minute, they saw three motorcycles, followed by a pickup truck, then two more motorcycles and another pickup truck. What the hell, thought Bishop, we are on the gangbanger’s side of I-10. How did these guys get through?
As Bishop and Nick watched, the convoy passed slowly in front of them. Two of the lead riders wore bloody bandages. The first pickup had boxes, black trash bags and gas cans in the back. The next two riders passed, and then they saw three men with more bloody bandages lying in the back of the second pickup truck. The little parade passed by and proceeded north.
They listened for a few more minutes as the sound of the convoy faded away. Nick and Bishop radioed Terri and Kevin and gave them a quick report so they could relax a bit. The two men followed the convoy on foot for almost a mile to make sure they were gone.
When they got back to camp, Bishop said, “I don’t understand. The head biker guy was not with them, and they were on the wrong side of I-10. How did they get through? Why would they leave if they had won the war? I need to know what is going on up there.”
Nick agreed, and they started making plans for yet another trip to the I-10 exit they had both started calling Gettysburg.
Gettysburg
That night, as Bishop and Nick approached the interstate, they noticed the smell of something burning even before they could see any flames. They decided to go up on the interstate about a mile east of the exit and work their way down to where they could see the underpass. Bishop had remounted his scope on the big rifle, but was unsure if it were still zeroed in. They could see the glow of larger fires on both sides as they got close to the exit. Hundreds of people remained in the area with their makeshift camps. Bishop first noticed the hotel burning. It was down to its block walls with one of them collapsed. The Steak House was smoldering, nothing but a heap of blackened wood and coals. They worked their way down the line of cars stranded on the exit ramp and didn’t see any soldiers from either side. Bishop wanted to get a good look under the bridge to see if the roadblock remained. As they continued down the ramp, he saw three men, all with rifles, standing by the underpass. He studied them, trying to determine which side they were from. He could not see any biker colors. They looked ragged and older than any of the gang’s soldiers.
Bishop whispered to Nick what he was going to do. Nick reminded him that it was “his life, but he would take good care of Terri.” Bishop cracked a smile, shook his head, and moved off.
Bishop swung his weapon around to his back, stood up, and started walking toward the three men. When they finally saw him approaching, they showed no concern. He walked up and said, “Hey.”
One of the three nodded, and the other two replied, “Hey,” back.
Bishop continued, “I’ve been off in the woods for a few days, trying to scrounge up some meat. I got back a little bit ago, and the whole world has changed. What happened?”
“You missed the battle?”
“Battle?”
“Yeah, the Northerners attacked the Southerners two nights ago. It went back and forth until this morning. Both sides hurt each other so bad, they all just packed up and left. A couple of the boys and I were picking up rifles from the dead because we wanted some payback for all their shit. I think they knew we were sick and tired of being fed scraps like a bunch of animals, and they all lit out of here.”
“So the road is open?”
“Hell yeah, you can walk to the ruins on this side or that side all ya want. I see you have a gun. If they come back, will you help us?”
“I’m not much good with it. I never did get any meat, but I will help if I’m still around. I have family a few miles south of here, and I’ve been waiting to get through.”
Bishop left the three men with a big smile on his face and started walking back down the road directly toward his camp. No need to bypass any guard posts, worry about over watch shooters, or be concerned with running into roaming guards.
Nick appeared out of the darkness at his side and was smiling.
“Damn it’s good to live in a free country again.”
Crossing a Free I-10
After they returned to camp, everyone started packing up and arranging their dwindling supplies. Bishop noticed Kevin and Nick were engaged in a very serious discussion and figured he would not interrupt them.
Terri had managed to wash a set of clothes for each of them in a nearby stream. Bishop stood in the shallow water and bathed, shaved and brushed his teeth. He felt like a new man, and Terri commented that she might be able to stand being in the truck with him again.
When he returned to camp, Nick walked over, “Kevin and I have talked it over. We are going to stay.”
“What? Stay where?”
“We are going to stay at the exit. We only have a little diesel left in the truck, and we have decided that we want to stay and help these people reorganize and make things a little better. I don’t have any place to go, and even if we found diesel, we would double your problems out west – we eat a lot.”
“We would figure it out. We could make it work somehow.”
“No sir, our minds are made up. I am sick of hiding and sneaking around. I want Kevin to meet some nice girl and live as close to a normal life as we can make out of this shithole. I think I can help those men at the bridge, and I’m worried that if they don’t organize quickly, some other group will take charge, and that could even make the situation worse than it was before. We are staying right here and holding our ground.”
Bishop and Terri both tried to persuade Nick to leave, but he remained stubborn. They were ready to go with about three hours of daylight left. After hugs, handshakes, goodbyes and tears, they pulled out of the camp and headed for the I-10 underpass that had changed all of their lives forever.
Central Texas, South of I-10 – September 16, 2015
Go Mustangs!
The landscape was changing as they headed south. It was becoming flatter and dryer with far fewer trees. Through the NVD, Bishop could not tell how far he could see, but the open country provided for far greater visibility than any they had traveled so far. He was trying to decide if that were a good thing or a bad thing when Terri’s voice sounded with serious concern, “Bishop, I think there is a police car ahead of us.”
Bishop snapped his head around and instantly saw two red, flashing lights in the distance.
He told Terri to slow down, but she already let her foot off the gas, and the truck was losing momentum. Bishop tried to judge how far ahead the lights were, but couldn’t.
Terri, to conserve gas, let the truck coast to a complete stop. Bishop never took his eyes off the lights, trying to figure out what they were.
“I don’t think that is a police car. They are flashing too slowly. Police lights are normally faster than that.”
“Fire truck? Ambulance?”
“I don’t know. Let me get the big rifle.”
After Bishop retrieved his rifle, he propped it onto the side mirror and studied the lights with the scope’s 24x magnification. He lowered the rifle and said, “They are blinking intersection lights. That doesn’t make any sense. There is no road on the map or the GPS. We haven’t seen electricity for days and there are no other lights on the horizon, so why would only those lights have juice?”
“Maybe it’s a red light district? If you smelled a little better you might be able to get a date.”
Bishop laughed out loud.
He set the big rifle in the seat beside him and popped his head out the top again with the night vision. Terri started moving the truck forward very slowly. It felt like it took forever for them to get closer to the
red lights. When they could clearly see the poles and wires over the roadway, they coasted to a stop.
Bishop got out and began walking toward the lights when he noticed a road sign that said, “School Zone Ahead.”
He continued until he was standing under the flashers and saw that they were suspended above a new driveway that branched off of the main road. The driveway led to a sign that said, “Future Home of the Mustangs. Your tax dollars at work - Scheduled Completion 2016.”
He remained puzzled by the electrical power and soon discovered a solar charging system was on the other side of one of the poles.
As Bishop walked back to the truck, he could see Terri standing beside it, stretching and completely exposed. He thought, we have to get to West Texas soon. We are getting tired, sloppy and careless.
They both got in the truck, and Bishop teased, “You were right, it was a bordello.”
“Sure didn’t take you very long,” Terri remarked with a mildly sassy tone to her voice.
“Well, babe – it has been a while.”
He explained to Terri what he had found and added, “I don’t think the Mustangs are going to have a good season this year.”
They passed the future home of the Mustangs, and Bishop started thinking about the solar panels and the lights. Things must not be so desperate around here, or those would have been looted days ago. It’s not as if the locals can’t see them.
As they proceeded south, the population density continued to decrease with every mile. There were not many options for roads either. Bishop asked Terri how she was doing, and she replied that she could use a break.
They stopped, took a rest area break, and grabbed a quick snack. The sun was peeking over the horizon, and it would be full light soon. As Bishop looked around, he could see only flat land all the way to the horizon. The vegetation ranged from none to patches of scrub oak and clusters of knee-high cactus. There was not a phone line or power cable in sight. This was open grazing country, where the cattle’s brand was a sign of ownership, not a fence.
Bishop opened the atlas on the hood of the truck and studied it while he ate dried fruit and beef jerky. He frowned, looked around, and turned to Terri, “No place to hide.”
Terri gazed over the land and hooked her thumbs in her pockets. In her best cowboy twang she observed, “Sure would be hard to bushwhack us round these parts.”
They were soon on their way, having decided to chance driving during the day. As they approached their next turn, Bishop saw a sign that read “Road Closed Ahead” and grumbled an annoyed, “Shit.” When they reached their turn, sawhorses and orange cones blocked their route. A small sign read, “Bridge Out.”
Bishop didn’t want to believe it, so he moved two of the sawhorses, and they continued down the allegedly closed road. About two miles ahead, they ran into another large group of sawhorses and cones. Sure enough, the bridge over a small, impassable wash was no longer in existence. The road simply ended in what appeared to be a giant bicycle ramp.
“Bishop, if you want to try and jump that, I’ll let you drive while I walk across.”
“I always wanted a cool name like Evil. Maybe this is my big chance?”
They got out, and Bishop checked to see if their 4x4 could make it across the dry wash, but it was too risky. Stones slightly larger than a basketball covered the bottom, and busting an axle on the truck would mean the end of their journey. Even if they did make it across the rocks, he was unsure about climbing the opposite bank.
They were comfortable spending the day there, until Bishop found fresh ATV tracks while checking the wash. Someone had recently been in the area, perhaps hunting feral hog. “Terri, that road we were on runs right into Brewster, Texas. According to the Texas Tour Guide, Brewster is a bustling metropolis of 348 nice people and one, old sour head. It has a gas station, a post office, one café, and a combination hardware and feed store.”
“I wonder if the restroom is clean at the gas station.”
“I think we need to risk staying here. I’m too tired to think straight and need some sleep. Let’s pull the truck over there.”
“What about the hog hunter and the ATV tracks?”
“I have an idea.”
They pulled the truck off of the road into a small strand of scrub. Bishop pulled his machete out and began to hack off short branches of the small oak trees that spotted the area. After about an hour, he had a small pile at the front of the truck.
He hunted in the back for a bit and came out with a large cargo net. He held it up to Terri and said, “Nothing up my sleeve,” but received no reaction from her. Clearly she is tired and doesn’t appreciate my sophisticated humor.
Bishop poured water on the coal black net and rolled it around in the dirt with his boot. He poured a little water on the truck and threw several carefully filtered handfuls of dirt on the truck. Terri observed, “I bet you liked to play in mud as a boy.”
He began weaving the branches into the net, and Terri came over to help him finish the pile. They carefully draped it over the truck and then walked off a bit to view their handiwork.
Terri couldn’t believe it. From more than 50 feet away, the truck was almost invisible.
They anchored a hammock between the back of the truck and a scrub oak that barely held the weight. Bishop made a sunshade, and they were set. They took turns sleeping and keeping watch the rest of the day.
When the sun started to set, they both took a quick sponge bath to remove the coating of sweat caused by sleeping in the heat of the day and proceeded to pack everything up.
Bishop checked the gas and was not surprised to see they were down to a quarter of a tank. He took the two five-gallon cans they had left and poured them into the tank. It moved the gauge to slightly more than half of a tank.
Terri and he went over the map again and reached a decision.
The Brewster Roadblock
They decided they didn’t have any choice and proceeded toward Brewster. It was completely dark by the time they could see the outlines of the buildings in the distance. Bishop was studying the road ahead using a combination of his night vision and the scope. The moon was providing more light than he would have liked, but it did help his spying.
“Stop!” he said suddenly.
Terri stopped the truck immediately.
“There are two pickup trucks blocking the road. I can’t be sure, but I think there are men all around them. Either it is a guard post, or Brewster is having a rush hour traffic problem.”
Bishop studied the roadblock for a while and considered their options. “I think we are screwed on this one. We may have to backtrack.”
“I have an idea, Bishop.”
After listening for a few minutes, he responded, “No! Absolutely, positively not!”
“Bishop, this is 2015. Women have the vote; we make almost equal pay, and we serve in combat units. The days of you men having all the fun are over.”
It took some persuasion on her part, but he eventually agreed. When he thought about it later, he realized that there had never been any doubt Terri was going to win. Never marry a woman smarter than you no matter how nice her boobs are.
They backed the truck up about 200 yards and pulled off the side of the road into some scrub. It wasn’t well hidden, but would have to do.
Bishop checked their gear while Terri got ready behind the truck. She came walking out and even in the low light, Bishop let out a wolf whistle.
They kissed and both said, “Good Luck – love you” at the same time.
Bishop took off through the scrub and brush using his NVD to avoid falling into the cactus.
Terri marked the time with her watch, gave him a ten-minute head start, and then started walking up the road to the roadblock.
Of the three guys on guard duty, one was asleep, and the other two were swapping stories of past conquests while commiserating about how horny they were. The one, young man had just finished a tale about his last trip to the River Walk in Sa
n Antonio and his chance encounter with a really hot babe. His friend was saying, “Dude, you are full of shit. Stuff like that never happens. Hot women don’t just fall into your lap like that.”
Just then they heard a female voice call out somewhat suggestively, “Hey, at the trucks! Anyone home?”
One of the guards reached inside a truck, pulled on the headlights and sucked in his breath.
Terri was standing in the road about 75 feet away. She was dressed in a micro-miniskirt and was barefoot. She wore Bishop’s chest rig, and the straps barely covered her otherwise bare upper body. An M4 rifle slung across her shoulder, and her hair was pulled up in a ponytail. She looked like a calendar girl for the National Rifle Association.
She covered her eyes from the suddenly bright light and made sure she turned sideways just enough to flash them a little boob.
There was no reaction from the guards for several seconds, and she thought she made a mistake convincing Bishop to let her try this. Before long, flashlights were combing the areas beside the road to see if she were alone. Not completely stupid, she thought.
She could hear hushed voices coming from the trucks and could just imagine the debate that was going on. Pretty soon, a voice yelled out, “Why don’t you set that rifle down, and come on up here?”
“No, thanks. I’m good right here. Why don’t you get that fucking light out of my eyes so we can talk?”
“What do you want?”
“What I want is to shoot your dumb asses and pass on through your town. What I need is to pass through your town and perhaps get some gas.”
She could hear them laughing quietly.
“This road is closed. No one other than the people who live here can pass. The last strangers we let through robbed us and shot two people.”
“I can trade.”
This brought more laughing and more hushed discussion.
“What do you have to trade?”
“I have ammunition and whiskey. You ain’t Indians, are ya?”