by Bobby Akart
They drove down the narrow, two-lane highway through a tunnel of trees. The leaves on the sweet gum trees were in full fall pigments, while most of the others were starting to turn. As the days grew shorter, the leaves would begin to paint the Tennessee landscape with an autumn palette of color. If the weather of the last few weeks was an indicator, the succession of warm, sunny days would bring about spectacular displays of autumn hues throughout the state.
The truck cleared the tree canopy and arrived in a valley of rich farmland. Off in the distance, they could see a farmer plowing a field, using a quarter horse harnessed to an old-fashioned plow. He was either preserving the fields for spring or, more likely, planting winter rye, wheat, or barley.
Madison thought of one of her favorite songs by Hank Jr., “A Country Boy Can Survive.” In a world thrust back into the nineteenth century, those closest to the earth, the farmers, were best suited to change their way of living to adapt to the drastic adjustments needed to survive.
“Daddy, the highway crosses the Duck River up ahead into the town of Williamsport,” said Alex. “It should be right around this curve.”
Colton touched the brakes and then pushed them down in earnest as the Wagoneer came upon a roadblock manned by two police cruisers, one county and one from the city of Williamsport. The vehicles were wedged between a guardrail and a tall bank covered with kudzu.
He eased past a road to their right, which led them away from the roadblock, but instead chose to approach the uniformed deputy and a younger man wearing a cowboy hat.
“Colton, do you think this is a good idea?” asked Madison. “The road we just passed takes us toward Savannah.”
“I know, but I want to talk to this officer,” said Colton. He continued to ease toward the roadblock, where both the deputy and the younger boy pointed rifles at them. Colton was only a hundred feet away when they shouted at him to stop.
“That’s close enough, mister,” the deputy shouted. “Road’s closed to Williamsport. In fact, these cars don’t run, so they can’t be moved. You need to turn yourself around and go on now, ya hear?”
Colton put the truck in park and began to open the door to exit. Madison heard the distinctive sound of a shotgun being racked.
“Colton!” she yelled after him as he exited the vehicle anyway.
Colton raised his hands away from his body and shouted to the deputy, “I just need some directions and I need to tell you something. Here, I’ll hold my arms out where you can see me.”
Colton kept walking toward the roadblock and Madison began to survey all parts of the intersection to make sure they were alone. She expected an ambush of some sort, but thus far, nobody else appeared.
“What’s he doin’, Mom?” asked Alex. “I mean, this may not be safe. Wait, look. They’re shaking hands.”
“Are you kidding me?” asked Madison. “He’s over there making friends. Look, he’s waving us over.”
“No way,” said Alex.
“Seriously, he’s telling us to come out and join them.”
“I know that, Mom. I’m just not gonna do it.”
Madison studied the body language of the two men manning the roadblock. They’d both lowered their weapons and were freely talking with Colton. Colton glanced toward her again and waved his arm.
“You know what, let’s go join him. He wouldn’t tell us to come out if it wasn’t safe.”
“No,” said Alex defiantly.
“Come on, Allie. Don’t you wanna talk to some nice people? I mean, all the others have tried to kill us, right?”
“Okay, good point. You first though.”
“Very funny.” Madison laughed.
When Madison and Alex arrived, they were greeted with smiles and friendly faces. While the adults talked, Alex and the young man copped a squat on the hood of the sheriff’s department cruiser.
As they walked away, Colton spoke in a hushed voice to the deputy. “Listen, while they’re out of earshot, I need to tell you about something that I haven’t even discussed with my wife yet.”
Madison immediately gave Colton a puzzled look.
He smiled and nodded to her, then continued. “This morning I walked up to the bridge crossing the river up on the Trace. I think a man may have been murdered. I mean, it was really foggy and I couldn’t see, but I heard the shot and then something that sounded like his body being dumped in the river. Can you check it out?”
“I wish we could,” answered the deputy. “We’ve heard reports of a group of bikers who’ve taken up residency at both bridges up there, kinda like trolls. Folks who try to cross get attacked and their stuff is confiscated. Sometimes they’re let through; other times, um, well, it depends.”
Madison’s interest was piqued. Now she understood why Colton was solemn when he returned from his surveillance. “Depends on what?”
The deputy looked down, shook his head, and kicked some loose pebbles. “These guys want what you have—anything and everything. If you resist, they shoot you and throw you in the river. We’ve received reports of bodies flowing downriver for days. Even if you don’t resist, if you, well, excuse my bluntness, ma’am, look like you and your daughter, then it doesn’t end well.”
Madison could read between the lines. “Why don’t you do something?”
“We can’t,” the deputy replied. “We don’t have the manpower to take them on. There are almost twenty men up there, heavily armed. We can’t risk losing our own fathers and sons while leaving the town unprotected in the process.”
“But—” Madison attempted to argue before Colton cut her off.
“Honey, I understand where the deputy is coming from,” started Colton. “Sadly, I wrestled with the same issue when I was standing at the bridge, listening to the screams and gunshots. I felt helpless and conflicted. In the end, I decided to do what’s best for my family—come back alive to them.”
The three adults stood quietly, considering what Colton had said. He was right, of course. They all knew it. Sadly, this was the world they lived in now. Alex and her new friend were laughing, trading barbs about city girls versus country boys.
The boy laughed. “You know, I could use a cute little city girl like you to ride in the middle of my pickup to make me look good.”
Alex, always quick on her feet, especially with young men, shot back, “Ride where, cowboy? We’ve got the only runnin’ truck in these parts.”
“Minor detail,” he said, having been one-upped. He then hopped down onto the pavement and fell to one knee. He removed his hat and held it close to his chest. Using his best country drawl, he pleaded his case.
“Dawlin’, sometimes your knight in shining armor turns out to be a country boy in mud-covered boots. You’re from the city, and I’m from the country. You got the whole world at your feet, right here. Whadya say, Miss Alex?”
Alex doubled over in laughter, which immediately reminded Madison that a good life could be had after the crap hit the fan, if you could just find the right people to live it with.
Chapter 18
DAY SIXTEEN
11:00 a.m., September 24
Natchez Trace Parkway
Near Keg Springs, Tennessee
“Just ahead, Daddy,” said a rejuvenated Alex after having a little social interaction with the young man at the Williamsport checkpoint. The guy was sweet and different from the boys she used to hang around with at Davidson Academy. Country guys were unassuming and seemingly uncaring about their appearance. Their clothes were not all about brand names and expensive embroidered logos. Functionality and durability guided their wardrobe. She could get used to their country-boy charm too.
Colton slowed, looking for the power lines that the deputy said would be in this vicinity. Apparently, all of the locals who used the Trace would drive along the makeshift road created by TVA for maintenance of the high-voltage towers that traversed the state. He slowed the truck as they came into view, and then slid down the shoulder of the road.
“I have t
o say, it’s times like this when I realize how lucky we are to have the Wagoneer and its incredible durability,” said Colton as the girls bounced out of their seat with each bump in the dirt road. “I doubt the Corvette I traded could’ve made that maneuver.”
Madison and Alex both shot Colton a look. “Well, Mr. Off-Roader, congrats on your acquisition, but could you slow it down a bit until we hit the pavement,” said Madison. “Neither my top, nor my bottom, can take too much more of this wagon-trail ride.”
Colton slowed as they approached the Trace. To the east, a group of five men and women walked slowly toward the Duck River Bridge.
“Should I warn them about what’s ahead?” asked Colton.
“Nobody warned us,” replied Alex dryly. “Besides, how do we know they won’t start shooting at us as their way of saying thanks for the info?”
“That’s pretty cynical, dear,” replied Madison.
Not receiving any support for the warning idea, Colton resumed their journey westbound on the Natchez Trace. Alex sat quietly and saw that her dad was looking at her through the rearview mirror.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing,” replied Colton.
He drove on quietly for another minute and then she spoke up. Alex wasn’t that much different from other teens in that she could seem moody and reserved. When they were young, they needed to be nurtured and guided through life. But as most teens got older, they sought independence and respect. Even though their attitudes, behavior or body language said otherwise, teens like Alex still needed their family support system.
“Daddy, when you negotiated deals for your clients, how could you tell if the other side was being fair? You know, trustworthy.”
Colton chuckled a little as he responded. “Over the years, I learned the hard way. Some people are far better liars than others.”
“When you meet someone for the first time, it’s hard to tell if you can trust them,” added Madison. “Your first impressions can often be wrong. It takes time to really get to know somebody.”
Colton slowed the truck as an overpass came into view. Madison observed the surroundings through the binoculars, scanning for anything out of place.
“I would always study the person’s eyes,” said Colton. “Maintaining eye contact doesn’t necessarily mean the person is telling the truth; it’s possible that they’re accomplished liars.”
“Is that why poker players wear sunglasses at the table?” asked Alex.
“Yes, in part,” replied Colton. “When sitting across the table from someone for hours, the other poker players may be able to establish a pattern between card playing and eye movement or positioning.”
Madison interrupted. “I think we’re good to go.”
As Colton started them rolling, he continued. “They used to say that you can tell a liar by their shifting eyes or looking down when they speak untruthfully. I’ve found that’s not always the case. They could be an insecure person or simply distracted.”
“So how could you tell?” pressed Alex.
“As for eye contact, I’d study their pupils,” replied Colton. “If their pupils increased in size, they were more likely to be tense and nervous. That was an indication to me that I had the upper hand.”
“What about body language?” asked Alex. “I could tell if a kid was up to something just by the way he acted sometimes.”
“Great question and that really deals with the situation we’re in now,” replied Colton. “Before the collapse, things like eye contact and body language were used for my negotiations all the time. For someone like you, it helped you determine if a new classmate might be someone you’d want to become friends with. Today, it takes on a whole new importance.”
Alex perked up and slid to the edge of the backseat so she could lean between her parents. “Yeah, this is what I’m getting at. For three weeks, we’ve been running into people that I’d normally trust, and they end up shootin’ at us. It’s gettin’ old, Daddy.”
Colton and Madison began laughing at Alex’s matter-of-fact assessment. They rounded a curve and two men working on an old tractor in a field waved to them as they drove by. Out of habit, Colton gave the horn two quick taps as the Rymans waved back.
“Okay, let me tell you what I’ve learned over the years, and we’ll apply it to the new way of life,” started Colton. “Just like before the solar storm, paying attention to what’s going on around you is the key. Most people float through life, oblivious to imminent threats to their safety. Madison, how many times have you swerved in your car to avoid another driver who was texting or distracted?”
“Daily,” replied Madison.
“Now, imagine if you were distracted too, oblivious to the other bad driver,” said Colton.
Madison made two fists and bumped them together, then allowed her fingers to wiggle to her lap. “Boom.” She laughed. “Followed by a lecture from my husband, an even worse fate.”
“No lectures, just lessons,” said Colton. “Situational awareness is about the observations of your surroundings, including the people in close proximity to you.”
“Like studying their eyes and body movements?” asked Alex.
“Yes, eyes. But also body language, which is something we all give off, mostly unconsciously. The way we carry ourselves speaks volumes as to what our postures, facial expressions, and hand positions mean. The longer you have to study a person, the more accurate you can be in your assessment.”
Colton slowed to avoid several buzzards picking at the carcass of a dead critter in the road. He continued.
“Here’s the thing. Body language can give you advanced warning about the actions that a person or group of people are about to undertake. It kinda gives you a window into their mind and emotions, as well as their intentions. In a world like the one we face now, where determining friend from foe isn’t easy, body language is an early warning device built into every single human being.”
Madison placed the map on the dash and looked ahead. “You can keep going, but there’s another bridge overpass up ahead. I’ll keep watching it.”
“Daddy, what should I watch for?”
Colton took a sip of water and wiped the sweat off his face. It was a hot day for September. “On the one hand, our faces are the most expressive body part we possess. On the other hand, it’s the most easily manipulated. Most people will crack nervous grins and will exhibit numerous facial twitches. Just ignore the signs that can be controlled and manipulated, and focus on those that cannot, like their pupil dilation that we just talked about. Watch for their pulse to increase, usually indicated by a visible pounding pulse in their neck or temples. If they suddenly break out in a sweat or their breathing becomes more rapid as their mouth remains open, there is increased anxiety in their system.”
“A warning sign,” added Alex.
“Exactly,” said Colton. “Here’s something I learned from growing up in Texas, where boys fought each other for the heck of it. A person’s shoulders and chest reveal a lot. If their shoulders are tight and raised rather than hanging relaxed and natural, then they might be about to swing on you. Also, most men tend to breathe through their belly while women breathe through their chest. If a man starts to breathe through his chest, then chances are he’s ready to fight.”
Madison slapped the dashboard and Colton immediately slowed down. She adjusted the binoculars to get a better look. As Colton moved forward, Alex could see what her mom was watching.
“Hey, look, it’s a boy on a bike,” exclaimed Alex.
The boy was standing on the side of the road, next to his bicycle, but at the sight of their truck, he jumped on it and sped away.
“Wow, look at him pedal,” said Madison. “He’s givin’ it all it’s worth!”
Colton picked up speed and followed the kid as he pedaled as fast as his short legs would allow.
“Hey, kid, slow down,” said Alex. “We’re the good guys.”
As Colton got closer, he laughed. “Should I pu
t it in neutral and rev the engine a little bit? You know, kinda growl at him like that car in Stephen King’s book?”
Madison slugged him. “No, Colton Ryman, you will not. Leave that boy alone. In fact, give him some space.”
“Okay,” said Colton. He continued with his thought. “You see, Alex, that boy doesn’t know we’re the good guys. Ordinarily, he’d have probably sat there on the side of the road and waved to us as we drove by. In this violent world, where you don’t give folks the benefit of the doubt anymore, you almost have to assume they’re up to no good.”
“Which is why he’s running from us,” said Alex. “Are there any other signs we should watch for?”
“I think the last thing, which I learned from television and movies, is to keep an eye on their hands and feet,” replied Colton. “Well, maybe feet not as much. I’ve never seen feet kill anyone in the movies. But always watch their hands, especially if they suddenly reach into a pocket or hover around the waist of their pants. A balled-up fist is obvious. Slipping their hands under their coat to draw a pistol can be more subtle.”
“Really, it’s all about assessing the other person until you can get a comfort level, right?” asked Madison as she studied the map.
“To an extent,” replied Colton. “Never let your guard down around strangers. Your ability to identify these early warning signs will give you valuable seconds in which to act.”
Colton continued them on their way as they passed two stalled cars with their windows broken out. He moved to the side to avoid the broken glass. As the Wagoneer turned around the bend, a brown road sign indicated they’d just entered the Devil’s Backbone Natural Area.
Alex, who had craned her neck to analyze the stalled cars, looked forward and asked, “Daddy, where did the boy go?”
Chapter 19
DAY SIXTEEN
Noon, September 24
Natchez Trace Parkway
The Devil’s Backbone, Tennessee