by Bobby Akart
The first arrow struck the hood of the Wagoneer and careened harmlessly over the roof. The second arrow hit the windshield dead center, creating a hole before it imbedded in the seat between Colton and Madison and barely stopping before it would have traveled into Alex’s chest.
Colton instinctively jerked the steering wheel to the left to avoid being hit again, but the barrage caught them all by surprise. From the woods lining the highway, arrows were hurled in their direction. They whizzed by, but close enough for Colton to hear the swoosh of displaced air.
“Roll up your windows!” shouted Colton as another ricocheted off the door post of the truck’s frame.
“Go faster, Daddy!” said Alex, and Colton happily obliged. He pressed the gas just as an arrow embedded in their tire. The arrow’s shaft banged against the wheel well, creating a fast clicking sound like baseball cards beating against a bike’s spokes.
Colton disregarded the sound and punched the gas. If the tire was going to go flat, he wanted to get as far away from these wild Indians as he could.
“Daddy!” screamed Alex. “There’s one grabbing at the trailer rack.”
Colton sped up as a boy no older than ten held on. Colton swerved the truck back and forth, trying to shake the kid. Finally, he slammed on the brakes, causing the boy to ram his head against the rack and lose his grip. Colton floored the gas pedal and surged ahead, leaving the boy in a heap on the asphalt road.
“Get down, both of you!” shouted Colton as more arrows pelted the truck.
“Up ahead,” yelled Madison, pointing a hundred yards deeper into the Devil’s Backbone. “They’re blocking the road with bicycles, chairs, and even tree limbs. Colton, they’re just kids.”
Colton had to make a decision. They didn’t have enough fuel left for another detour. He couldn’t drive through the debris. If he did, he might blow out all four tires. He either had to stop them or turn around. He glanced in his mirrors. They were being chased by a dozen or more of the hellions.
Suddenly, an arrow flew in the tailgate window, which had been broken out in the shoot-out. It stuck in a case of bottled water, causing the spray to soak Alex.
“Daddy!”
“I know, honey. Maddie, take the AR and shoot at them.”
“What? They’re just kids.”
“Mom, they’re trying to kill us! They almost did kill me. See?” Alex yanked the arrow out of the Jeep’s bench seat and showed her mom.
Madison didn’t hesitate as she pulled the charging handle on the weapon and hung it out the window. As she fired, the sound of brass clinking on the pavement could be heard, and the screams of the kids diving for cover echoed off the tree-lined road.
Alex quickly rolled down her window and held her arm out. She fired off a few rounds at the chasing kids to their rear.
“Daddy, did it slow them down?”
“Yeah, do it again on this side.”
She repeated the action and this backed down their pursuers.
Colton approached the debris pile and gave it a quick assessment. He decided to remove the pile on the right side of the road, which should give him enough room to pass.
“Here’s what I’m gonna do,” started Colton. “I want you to stay in the car but keep shooting at these brats to keep them from firing off arrows at me. I’m gonna clear a path.”
“Are you sure?” asked Madison. “We can just turn around.”
“We don’t have the gas to spare,” replied Colton. “This won’t take long. Just cover me, okay?”
“Okay, Daddy, be careful.”
“Love you!” shouted Madison as Colton bolted out of the truck.
A quick glance at the left front tire revealed that the arrow was stuck in the thick part of the tread and was not a threat to causing the tire to go flat. Colton ran in a low crouch as he reached the pile of debris. Arrows were flying high over his head due to their trajectory. The kids were hidden under the road in an underpass that did not appear on the map. Tents and makeshift lean-tos lined the gravel road beneath him.
Madison and Alex periodically fired at the young marauders as Colton frantically tore through the pile, casting bikes and furniture to one side or the other.
Suddenly, an arrow, much smaller than the others, flew past him and stuck in a wooden chair. A man was standing behind a tree about sixty yards to the north. He was reloading his crossbow for another attempt to kill Colton.
Colton fell to the pavement as another arrow embedded itself into a fallen tree branch next to him. Colton didn’t hesitate. He jumped up and drew his weapon at the same time. He sent three rounds in the direction of the man, who dodged behind the tree. Colton waited while the man reloaded. He planned on steadying his aim and shooting the man as he emerged for another attempt with the crossbow.
Colton never got the chance.
CRACK—CRACK—CRACK. CRACKCRACKCRACK!
The man, who was dressed as a Boy Scout scoutmaster, turned into a bullet-riddled heap of blood and rolled down the embankment into one of the tents below. Colton knew he was dead.
“Oh no!”
“Mr. Jennings!”
The shouts from below, coupled with the cessation of the arrows, gave Colton the head start he needed to get back to the truck. Two more kids drew aim on him from the woods to his right as he ran back to the truck, but they were quickly sent scampering into the woods by Alex’s warning shots.
Colton slid into the driver’s seat and gunned the truck toward the debris. The arrow barrage had stopped, and now more than a dozen young boys were huddled around their dead scoutmaster.
As Colton sped away, ignoring the repetitive clicking of the arrow stuck in the tire, he thought he saw an aberration in the shadows of the tall pines to his left. Had Colton known the folklore surrounding the Devil’s Backbone, he might have seen the ghosts of the five dozen unsuspecting Creek Indians who were slaughtered in a predawn attack in 1813.
The Creeks had underestimated the depravity of man too.
Chapter 20
DAY SIXTEEN
3:40 p.m., September 24
Natchez Trace Parkway
Gordonsburg, Tennessee
Colton knelt in the grass next to his wife and held her hair back as she finished throwing up. Her vomiting and crying had now been replaced by the dry heaves. Alex could tell her dad ached because of the despair her mom was undergoing. Mom had protected him and might have saved his life, but she’d left a bullet-ridden corpse in her wake. Nobody should have to go through what just happened. Alex knew. She’d been there.
“Colton,” she sobbed, “they were just kids. Boy Scouts!” Madison began to cry again as Alex brought Colton a wet towel and a bottle of water. Alex pulled the bill of her cap down over her eyes to shield them from the sun and returned to her guard duty but stayed close in case they needed her.
“Maddie, I know. They were misguided by a man who thought they needed to attack others to survive. You saved my life back there. You did what you had to do for your survival and mine.”
“Colt, this isn’t me,” she said, breathing heavily but able to gulp down some water. She sat back on her heels and took the wet towel to wipe her face and chin. “I don’t think I’m made for this life. Really, I can’t do it.”
“C’mon,” said Colton as he encouraged her to stand and get away from where she’d retched. “Let’s go lean against the truck and get you some crackers. I even have a Sprite that will help settle your stomach. How’s that sound?”
Madison nodded and walked with Colton to the Wagoneer, but not without looking up and down the highway first. She was visibly shaken and nervous about her surroundings. Recovering from this might take some time for Madison.
“Daddy, there are some people walking this way, ’bout a mile in front of us,” announced Alex. “We’ll need to get movin’.”
“How many?” asked Colton.
“Looks like three, a man, woman, and child. They’ve got backpacks but no rifles that I can see.”
; Colton straightened Madison’s disheveled hair. She’d stopped crying and finished off her water. She nibbled on some crackers as her emotional reaction started to subside. Without Colton having to ask her to get in the truck, she smiled and nodded before she took up a spot in the back of the Wagoneer.
He gently closed the door behind her and then took a moment to remove the arrows that were stuck in the gear strapped to the roof. Colton also snapped the shaft of the arrow stuck in the tire. He didn’t want to remove it completely in case it had penetrated the inner wall of the tire. For now, at least, the arrow’s head sealed any puncture hole it might have created.
“Let’s roll,” said Colton as he slapped the roof of the truck. This startled Madison, and Alex could see her dad instantly regretted it. “I’m sorry, darlin’.”
“It’s okay,” mumbled Madison.
Alex jumped in the front seat and set the binoculars on the dash. She readied her weapon just in case.
“Alex, how does the overpass look at Columbia Highway?”
“It’s clear,” she replied. “I think you can drive by them quickly so we don’t take any risks. At the overpass, just keep going. I’ll continue to watch through the binoculars.”
Colton fired up the truck and took off toward the approaching family. As they passed, the parents grabbed their son and slowly stood to the side of the road. The young boy waved as the truck sped around them.
“Daddy, how have they survived on the road like this?” asked Alex.
“I don’t know,” Colton replied. “It could be they’re like us. They held out at home as long as possible and now they’re headed for a better spot.”
“They hope, right?”
As the truck roared past the bridge overpass without incident, Alex thought about the number of people who were probably wandering out of Nashville and other big cities. She was surprised they’d not encountered more travelers on foot or bicycle.
Also, she expected to see more stalled cars. It could be that folks heeded the warning to shelter in place once the news broke about the solar storm coming. That made sense. But where were the refugees? Where were the masses of tens of thousands of people who, like them, wanted to flee the violence and carnage of the city? Were they holding out, hoping for a quick recovery?
Are they dead? Alex contemplated the possibility that the vast majority of people fleeing the city simply didn’t make it. The ones who did make it out to the countryside appeared to be resorting to violence for survival. She immediately wondered if that would ever end.
Alex studied the map for the next point where a road crossed the Trace. She couldn’t get this trip over with fast enough. By her calculations, they only had forty miles or so to the Tennessee River, but the shadows were growing long on the highway once again.
“Yeah, they hope, Allie-Cat,” her dad finally responded. He must have been thinking the same things as his daughter.
Colton continued down the road as they began to make pretty good progress. But then it always seemed that way before something happened.
“Daddy, let me jump out here and take a look,” said Alex. “The overpass is right around this curve. After that, we’ll enter the Laurel Hill Wildlife Area.” Colton pulled to a stop and nodded. He’d been deep in thought and Alex didn’t engage him in idle conversation. Her daddy seemed worried about her mom. Alex knew Madison would snap out of it because she was tougher than her daddy realized. Alex, however, was not gonna try to talk him out of his concern for her mom.
Alex jogged along the shoulder and noticed a motorcycle turned over in the weeds off to the side of the road. She immediately drew her gun and scanned the area after dropping to one knee. Alex tossed a stone in the vicinity of the motorcycle just to see if she could stir up any movement. The woods remained still and quiet.
She holstered her weapon and ran up to the outside edge of the curve to get a better look. Once again, luckily, there was no activity. They had made it through the last several overpasses without incident. That one underpass had been another story.
She waved the truck forward and continued to monitor the woods around the fallen motorcycle. As her dad pulled up, Alex turned her back to the woods and leaned in the window.
“Daddy, there’s an abandoned motorcycle over the embankment. Do you think it runs?”
“Honey, I don’t know anything about motorcycles, but from what I understood listening to the folks on the radio coming back from Dallas, their electronics would be fried just like other newer vehicles.”
“Okay,” said Alex. As she opened the door to the truck, she was startled by the rustling of the weeds behind her. She immediately drew her pistol and turned toward the noise. The tall grasses swayed as a feral hog entered the clearing, followed by three pint-size piglets.
Alex let out a huge sigh of relief and put her gun away. “Daddy, it’s a momma pig and her three little pigs. They’re so adorable!”
Alex started toward the sow and her piglets, but Colton called her back. “Alex, don’t get too close. These wild hogs can be dangerous, especially if you threaten the momma’s babies.”
Alex stopped and accidentally kicked some gravel in the road. The female hog heard this and let out a series of grunts and growls as she turned toward Alex. Alex backed up a few paces and felt for her weapon. After a moment, the sow squealed, turned and ran into the woods, followed immediately by her babies.
Make no mistake, regardless of species, there is nothing more dangerous than a mother protecting her young.
Chapter 21
DAY SIXTEEN
5:40 p.m., September 24
Natchez Trace Parkway
Laurel Hill Wildlife Area, Tennessee
They approached the entrance to the Laurel Hill Wildlife Area with caution. Their last trek through a Tennessee State Park didn’t end so well. Alex calculated that they were only ten miles from the east-west route of U.S. Highway 64, which would take them directly into Savannah. It would’ve been hard to vocalize the frustration held inside by Colton for the slow pace they were forced to take. Between gas conservation and the constant surveillance of crossroads and overpasses, they were moving like a herd of turtles.
Despite his anxiousness to get to the safety of Shiloh, he wasn’t going to place his family at any additional risk. Taking the backroads involved more population and potential for roadblocks, although he was beginning to wonder how it could be any worse than what they’d experienced thus far. If they had to go around the massive wildlife area, they’d add a couple of hours to the trip and burn an extra few gallons of gas.
It was getting dark and Colton didn’t want to lose sight of the potential threats up ahead, so they followed their normal routine as they carefully entered the park. Colton parked the car and gave Alex instructions.
“I want you to stand guard outside the truck,” started Colton. “Before I forget, be sure to refill the magazines, okay?” Colton glanced into the backseat one last time to check on Madison, who was still sleeping.
“Okay, got it, Daddy,” replied Alex. “Daddy, we’re getting closer to the final stretch.”
“Yeah, let’s see what we’ve got up ahead and then we’ll go,” said Colton as he started a slow jog toward the turn into the park. Around this stretch of road was a mile-long cleared area surrounded by trees. With binoculars, he’d be able to get a good idea of what was ahead.
It didn’t take Colton long to get a view of what they faced, and the decision was an easy one—turn around. He hustled behind a guardrail on the outside of the curve and took up a position that was relatively concealed. Just a hundred yards away was a series of encampments with roaring fires built around each.
He could see several deer hanging upside down from trees, their skins removed, and blood dripping from the lowest part of their bodies allowing gravity to bleed out the dead animals. There were several men field dressing their kill, and some of the women were cooking the meat over the fire.
The scene was surreal in comparison to wha
t they’d observed the last couple of days. These families were working together to feed themselves and had created perimeter security for the camp. There were a couple of men standing on the road, holding their rifles at a low-ready position and smoking cigarettes. There was a similar set of sentries at the other end of the encampment.
Colton wanted to believe that these people were not cut from the same cloth as the marauders on the Duck River Bridge, or even the crazed kids at the Devil’s Backbone. He didn’t know and realized he couldn’t take the risk of being outgunned by a group of seasoned hunters, much less a dozen or more of them.
Curiosity kept Colton from running back to the truck and turning around. He didn’t see any cars, but there were a variety of all-terrain vehicles parked throughout the camp. Colton wondered if the ATVs worked despite the solar flare. As he studied the interaction between the people, there didn’t appear to be any indication of hostility. It could be the folks knew each other and were possibly there for a hunting trip or family get-together. In any event, they appeared close-knit and probably wouldn’t appreciate the intrusion of the Wagoneer rolling through their camp.
Colton jogged back to the truck and joined Madison, who was awake and stretching her legs. She ran to Colton and gave him a hug like she hadn’t seen him for weeks. A kiss sealed their embrace.
“Well, hello to you too.” Colton laughed.
“I feel so much better,” said Madison. “The nap worked wonders. What did you see?”
“We have to turn around, so I’ll tell you about it on the way around Laurel Hill. Let me just say it was encouraging.”
“In what way?” asked Madison.
“Well, they looked like a decent enough group of people, which gives me hope that survivors who want to rely on themselves rather than taking from others actually exist.”
Madison laughed. “You’d think a group of Boy Scouts would have adopted that self-reliant mind-set too.”
“I believe their leadership was lacking,” said Colton. “The scoutmaster’s bad judgment resulted in him paying the ultimate price. As much as I admired the interaction I just observed, I think we’ll drive around, just in case.”