by J. N. Morgan
Another quiet 15 minutes went by, slow progress was made by burning legs but they continued on all the same. The trees were thinning on the left, and further up on the right there seemed to be a break in the tree-line. Another road perhaps? Trudging through the overgrowth, some more tire tracks were spotted heading up to a relatively thin trail in the trees, but as they got past that thinning tree-line to the left, they could see another set of power lines going roughly west-northwest.
“You know, I bet that connects to that northeast set of towers…” he said aloud. Nick gave a grunt of agreement. It was more than likely, after all it did turn eastwards after a while. Good thing they didn’t argue about the matter. He began to laugh quietly as a dip in the path going southwest and northeast revealed two sets of two-lane roads sitting within a shallow rock cut. Maybe a couple meters of rock, but it sloped down to the left so they walked northwards a short ways before getting back down to what must been the TCH again.
“Finally… I couldn’t put up with much more of that freakin’ bushwhacking…” Tiff gave, leaning down with her hands on her knees. The road eased down either way; they were on a bit of a hill it would seem. Down towards the southwest in the direction of whatever bloody city they had managed to avoid, there were mostly only trees to look at other than the highway. What was on said highway however… vehicles. Must have been over a dozen of them, and the front of one of them protruded upwards to create a rather strange silhouette to the distant destruction. There must be a few turns in the road before reaching the city however due to it being out of sight, not that it mattered. To the northeast, the direction they’ll be heading, the dip was more substantial. The landscape lowered and slightly rose, first gently, but then towards the edge of vision provided steep hills, perhaps even big enough to be considered low mountains?
Whatever the case, after a couple minute’s break, some smiles going around that they’ve dodged a highly deadly bullet, they continued on their way. Tarmac made travel far easier and was a lot kinder on their legs. Still, they went at a casual pace, the day’s travel feeling heavy on their shoulders. Tiff seemed to have developed a slight limp; her legs must be burning like mad.
“I think I hear waaaaateeeeeer…” the man gave in a sing-song voice. Checking the carabiner watch with little LED flashlight that was fastened to a belt-loop, it was indeed getting along in the afternoon a fair bit. 20 minute’s walking and they were still on the same stretch of highway, It was turning right however, and somewhere the sound of running water was reaching their ears.
“Fish… actually sounds… pretty good right now…” Tiffany gave between breaths, sweat going down her brow as she somewhat hobbled along, a weak smile coming to her face.
“I’ll get you a fishy wishy, baby. Don’t you worry. We’ll have a nice meal before bed. Alright?”
“Ok!” She gave, flashing him a broad smile, sounding optimistic for the first time in quite a while. Nick remained silent, though the idea of going to sleep hungry was decidedly less appealing than having some fish before going to sleep.
The sound grew louder and louder as they continued on, the road turning more and more until they were facing directly east, the Sun perhaps halfway down the sky behind them. A bridge, and it was more than obvious what was beneath it. Going along on the right-hand 2-lane road instead of the one to the left, they faced south once halfway past it, and Richard’s hand rapped against the hand rail rhythmically, or at least as rhythmically as he could manage without the use of both hands. Two parallel bridges for the two sets of roads. Divided highway. The slope down to the river looked gentler on the west side, so they turned back the way they came only far enough to reach the end of the bridge, and then headed down towards the water.
A good-sized river, must be over 10m wide, and in the middle likely deep enough to swim in. It wasn’t long before a fire was crackling along the shore, if you could call the side of a river a ‘shore’, and while Veronica got that going Richard was already digging for worms with Tiff. The line was in the water at about the same time the fire-blackened pot was untied from the back of his pack, filled with water, and put on the fire. They all drank heartily from the plastic water bottle to rehydrate, knowing that it’ll be refilled before long.
With some help in baiting the hook each time, it wasn’t long before trout were being brought to shore. Tiff was far too squeamish to bother actually gutting the fish, but Nick was doing well in not only gutting them but also beheading them as they were caught. He was letting her use his pocket knife. The rounder of the two women cringed at the sound of the flesh being sliced and the knife crushing through the body just behind the neck. The waste was tossed in the water, hopefully to attract for fish.
By the time the water was boiling, four trout were beheaded and gutted, resting on a clean flat rock taken from within the water on the edge of the running water. Tiffany took the pot of boiled water and gently dipped it into said river, just enough so that the cold water contacted the hot metal, cooling it down as well as cooling the hot water down to more quickly make it ready to pour into the plastic bottle. Hot water and the cheap plastic of an old liquor bottle probably didn’t mix too well. There was a fair amount of water left in the pot by the time the bottle was full, and the glass Kraken bottle was still pretty much full from when the primarily Native group to the west had filled it for them, so it was dumped into the stream. They needed the pot for cooking fish.
Five fish in total, most of them relatively the same size, the biggest wasn’t overly bigger than the smallest, but it was decided that Nicky could get the biggest while the other two with the bigger appetites and bigger bellies could have two each. Sounded reasonable and fair.
A simple meal, and thanks to the spices in Veronica’s pack it had pretty good flavour. Not quite as good as saltwater fish, but still enjoyable in its own right. It was food, and that was the main thing. Still probably a bit of daylight left, it was decided to leave traveling alone for now. Sitting around the fire, the bones and tails of their meal having been tossed into the river already, they let darkness surround them.
“Today was a good day…” his masculine voice assessed.
“Tell that to my feet.” She scoffed next to him, giving a funny grin in his direction, not quite sure if he was being sarcastic or not.
“Hey, your feet are still moving, they still have a pulse.” With large and calloused hands open to feel the fire’s warmth, he looked from Tiff on his right, over to Nick who was on the opposite side of the fire. “We found a city, probed it, found it too dangerous to get through. They were just starting to surround us. We had the foresight and the modesty to retreat, along with the quick thinking to continue along on a different route. Veronica, you got us out of there, you fought well, and so once again we have you to thank for surviving another day.” His eyes didn’t leave hers as he nodded, a smile on his face, “Thank you.”
“Thanks, Nicky…” Tiff said quietly, smiling broadly over to her, her voice sweet and sincere. The dark woman still very youthful in her early 20s had retained a stony face while looking to the white man, but diverting her brown eyes to those of his over to the beautiful green ones, those stony features broke, a smile coming to her. Their smiles went as they heard him grunt to his feet however, watching his 6’/182cm or so height rise to standing. It was a mere side-step to get around the modest fire, but digging in his pocket, he came out with something small, shiny, and slightly sharp-looking at the end. A cartridge. 7.62x39.
“Don’t use it on me… I’ll give you more as we go, but don’t forget who the reloading expert is around here.” The smiles were gone, his tone serious. There was real worry that the FMJ, steel-cased, milsurp cartridge he handed over would be the one to take his life. The woman didn’t nod, nor said anything, but slowly and gently took the round from within his finger tips, grasping it by the pointed bullet in her own. Clack, click, cli-CLACK.” The safety engaged the entire time, she locked the bolt back on an empty mag with the pull of the bolt
-carrier. The small round was pushed into the fixed mag, and then pulling the bolt-carrier back, it was released to allow the bolt to chamber that one lonely cartridge. It was better than nothing.
Putting the now loaded rifle down next to her, even if it was only with one round, she begrudgingly gave a nod to the man. He indeed was the one who by far knew the most about reloading in the group, that is, the process of taking empty casings and making live cartridges of them using powder, primers, and bullets. He’d taught her a bit, but it was clear that his knowledge and experience was fairly extensive on the matter. At least now though, everyone had a loaded firearm. Richard with his M1911A1 semi-auto pistol, Tiffany with his No.4 Lee Enfield bolt-action rifle, and Veronica with her own Chinese-made SKS-45 semi-auto rifle, formerly Johnathan’s, God rest his soul.
With the crackling of the fire slowly dying, the three sat around it for a brief time further until the yawns began to assault them. Infectious. Night was upon them, and looking up to where the smoke gently rose, stars shone brilliantly in the clear night sky. Twinkling beautifully, and soon they were on their backs looking up at it.
Farther up from the water, on a nice grassy patch instead of the dirt and rocks on either side of the stream, Tiff was cuddled into her man while her head was turned to gaze up as well. She was the first to take her eyes off it, resting her head on his good left shoulder. His hand rubbed her upper arm as they shared warmth. Nick, farther away and slightly closer to the road, was already on her side. Her rifle was the only companion she had to sleep with, to ‘share warmth’ with, though there was no warmth to be provided from it. She would have to do some shooting to warm it up. He still had her ammo, over a dozen rounds. All she had was one. For the pistol was over 20 rounds of .45, and for that .303 rifle over 50 rounds. She was doing the bulk of the fighting, yet she was the least armed.
Her hand rested on the wooden stock as it lay beside her, and in the darkness she stared at the two, watched as Richard’s head turned to the side to rest against his woman’s… her Tiffy’s. Fingers wrapped around the stock, tightened, her flesh faintly clicking from the pressure, and those observing brown eyes surrounded by dark flesh allowed anger to enter them as they continued to watch the silhouette of the two that slept nearby. As their chests slowed down to a gentle breathing pace, sleep taking their weary minds and sore bodies, Veronica slowly began to sit up; lifting the loaded rifle as she did so.