by Nathan Combs
They reined in, stopped, and listened. The bird was south but closing fast.
Randal pointed to an old concrete-block house with an open garage. “Cover!”
Inside the garage, they dismounted and soothed the animals as they watched and listened.
Tyler said, “Obviously they have night vision. I hope they don’t have thermal too.”
Randal nodded. “Yeah. That would suck.”
Five minutes later, it was apparent the Blackhawk was continuing on toward Beeville.
Randal pulled out the map. “They have no idea who I am or what vector I left on. The chopper’s a shot in the dark. As soon as the bird’s out of sight, we go night vision, cross-country. If we ride hard, we can be well east by sunrise. If we switch out the horses and push hard, we can be home in less than two weeks.”
Chapter Six
Convergence
It was now the first of February, and the most physically challenging time of Noah’s life ended. Anna had only been capable of walking an hour at a time, so he’d ended up pulling her most of the way.
On I-75, north of Locust Grove, Georgia, and thirty miles south of Atlanta’s Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport, the snow was less than six inches deep, and Noah discarded the snowshoes. The freedom of not having to lift his feet when he walked was liberating and allowed him to conserve the minuscule amount of energy he had left.
It was also warmer. The nights were still near zero, but the afternoon highs often reached the low twenties. While the warmer temperatures were welcome, Noah was nearing the end of his rope. He needed to regenerate, and Anna and Stormy needed the warmth and comfort of fire for more than a few hours at a time. Additionally, Anna, and thus Stormy, needed to eat something that wasn’t something you normally rode.
Nina had not said one word since her snarky comment about the bus, and he chuckled to himself thinking maybe she’d died. In reality, he wondered if Anna had managed to gain control over Nina, or even exorcised her, but in his heart, he knew she was sitting tight. Waiting. The question was—what was she waiting for?
Three days of rest in Locust Grove, plus some pork and beans and canned potatoes and fruit, was just what the doctor ordered. Noah and Anna were warm, clean, and rested. He felt like his old self again, while Anna was considerably more animated and upbeat.
Sitting on the hood of an old F-150, Noah grinned at her enthusiasm. “Ready to go, Anna?”
Noah slid to the ground and she hugged him and, for the umpteenth time, apologized for not being able to pull her weight during the odyssey. “I promise, Noah, you won’t have to pull me from now on.”
He grinned. “That’s good. Snow used to be the problem, but now that it’s all but disappeared, the problem will be the lack of it.” He motioned toward the sled.
She laughed. “I didn’t think of that. But I’m stronger now, honey. I can walk. And trust me. I never want to see snow again as long as I live.”
In addition to their packs and gear, the sled was loaded with the remainder of the horsemeat, two cases of veggies, random cans of fruit, and a carton of stale but edible MRE crackers he’d scrounged up from the pantry of a house.
Compared to the beginning of the trek, it almost felt like he was pulling nothing as they set off at a slow but steady walk.
A week later, just north of Macon, except for drifts and occasional patches here and there, the snow was history and they abandoned the sled.
Anna was right. Her strength and stamina had returned, and while they now had to carry everything in their packs, the pace picked up and they averaged twenty miles a day.
Eight days later, they approached a road sign that read, Valdosta.
“We can rest here a couple of days, Anna.”
Anna grinned from ear to ear as she bounced up and down. “Can we just spend the night, Noah? I’m so excited. I can’t wait to get to Florida. We can be there tomorrow, right? Palm trees…sandy beaches.”
Noah smiled, knowing what she envisioned was not what she would be seeing, but he didn’t want to throw a blanket on her enthusiasm, so he simply nodded.
The next evening, they crossed the Florida-Georgia line.
Anna’s celebratory “Yes!” echoed up and down I-75. She hugged him and danced a little jig. “We did it, Noah. We made it!” Turning toward him with a perplexed look on her face, she said. “I thought it would be warmer.”
Noah laughed and teased. “You thought crossing an imaginary line would correspond to palm trees and sandy beaches?”
She blushed. “Well, yeah, I guess I did.”
“We still have a long way to go, Anna. About 250 miles. In two weeks, we’ll be living in your postcard setting. Palm trees, soft breezes, gators, and bugs. The whole nine yards.”
The next seventeen days saw daily thunderstorms, some severe; one Florida cougar, who gave them a wide berth; blazing hot sun; and relentless and unending insect attacks. On the eighteenth day of their Florida vacation, they entered the outskirts of Sebring, not far from where Noah knew Wade and the new Florida settlement was.
Noah stopped walking, took off his pack, and took the baby from Anna. Sitting in the middle of the road, he kissed her tiny face and then looked up at his wife. “We’ll stay here until we decide what we’re gonna do, Anna. We’re roughly three days north of Wade’s settlement. We have to make a decision. Do we attempt to hook up or do we go it alone?”
Nina said, “Do I have a say in the decision?”
“Well, damn, Nina. Normally I’d say welcome back, but…”
“Right. Well, obviously I’ve been listening to both of you for weeks, but since I didn’t have anything to add, I kept my mouth shut. Figuratively speaking, of course.” Her voice was less throaty. Not quite Anna’s, but close.
Noah grinned. “I’m willing to bet that was a first.”
She grinned back. “Yeah, it was. I honestly didn’t think you—we’d—make it. You were right, Noah. I was wrong.” She laughed. “I’ve never been to Florida. Does that make me a tourist?” She sounded and looked different. With a grimace, she said, “Noah, I…” She averted her eyes. When she made eye contact again, she appeared to be embarrassed. “I hate to admit it, but given the circumstances, the best thing for us would be getting welcomed back into Coltrane’s colony. The question is, would he kill me on sight?”
“Wade doesn’t operate like that, Nina.”
“Yeah? Well, trust me. My feud with him was brutal. I caused the man untold grief. Killed a lot of his people, including women and children. And then there’s Sara. Do you honestly think either one of them will forgive me for that? Not to mention the fact that I killed a lot of his people, and that I ate some of them too?”
Noah’s nod was subtle. “I understand. But that’s the risk we take if we attempt to reconnect.”
Anna spoke up. “I want Stormy to have the best chance at survival we can give her. That means reintegration. Wade is—excuse me, Nina—repulsed by you, that’s true. But he likes me. He can’t kill you without killing me too. I don’t think he’d do that.”
“Yeah? Well, what if you’re wrong, Anna? What if he blows our head off?”
Anna took Noah’s hand. “I don’t believe he’d even consider killing me. When we get closer, you can go see him and put our cards on the table. You know he’s not going to harm you. Or put you in irons. Worst-case scenario, he’ll simply say no. If he does, you come back, and we go our own way. That’s what I think.”
Nina said, “Damn, Anna, that was pretty well thought out. Don’t get me wrong, I still think you’re a dipshit, but maybe there’s hope after all.” She grinned. “I think Anna’s right, Noah. I vote for her option.”
Noah pursed his lips, nodded his head, and after a couple of seconds, said. “Okay. But first, we need to find a base around here. If—”
Anna said, “Base?”
&nb
sp; “A place for us to operate from. Anyway, if I don’t return from a meeting with Wade—for any reason—I’ll need to know you guys are safe.”
Nina smiled coquettishly. “You guys? Does that include me, or were you referring to Anna and Stormy?”
“Look, Nina, I wasn’t around when you…did what you did. I only heard the stories. I didn’t know that Nina. The first order of business is to find a house.”
By midmorning the next day, they discovered a two-bedroom house in the northeast section of the city. It was directly on Lake Sebring, in good shape, and miraculously, had a wood cookstove in the kitchen, plus solar panels on the roof and a drilled well on the south side. The garage contained more miracles, including a solar panel control head, a canoe, and fishing equipment. As icing to the cake, the adjacent property had orange, grapefruit, lime, and avocado trees. Before the sun went down, they had enough electricity to run the water pump and water heater, and while Noah caught some bluegills, Anna began cleaning the house.
That evening, after a fish dinner and a hot shower, Anna gave Stormy her first real bath. Afterward, they sat on the little dock that jutted into the lake, watching the postcard-perfect Florida sunset. Noah’s arm was around Anna’s waist, her head on his shoulder, while Stormy slept peacefully in her arms.
“This is what I pictured when we crossed the state line, Noah.”
He didn’t respond.
“Noah?”
She pulled her head back and looked up at him.
He was sound asleep.
Both Rogue and Brown returned the same day. Brown found a place he was lukewarm about, but Rogue wore an ear-to-ear grin. “Sebring is ten times better than Pahokee, Horst. You’ll like it, Doc. You will too, Ransom.” He pulled out the map of Sebring and pointed to the location. “The Woodlawn Elementary School is in great shape. There are tons of houses nearby and citrus groves everywhere, fields we can plant, and we’ll have access to Lake Jackson and two other lakes, Lake Sebring and Dinner Lake. It’s off the beaten path, so even if Coltrane comes this far north, we can see him before he sees us. Good escape routes to the north and east. Best thing? I didn’t see one python.”
Horst offered his hand and Rogue shook it. “Good job, Rogue. The crops have been picked and stored and everyone’s packed. Ransom, pass the word. We’re outta’ here at 0700 tomorrow morning.”
Two days later, the Horstmen were busy making the Woodlawn Elementary School and the surrounding neighborhoods their home. Rogue and Brown checked out the area and searched for supplies while Horst and the doc sat in Horst’s new office.
“You know, Doc, it’s ten degrees colder here than it was in Pahokee. I don’t know if that’s normal or simply a change in the weather, but the fact remains, there are no snakes. Could a ten-degree difference in temperature mean pythons can’t survive here?”
Doc grinned. “Yeah. New algebra. Minus ten equals zero S.”
Chris’s and Cole’s teams had been on station in Lake Placid since Randal left for Texas nearly three weeks earlier, and knowing the Texas patrol could show at any time, they cranked the alert level to the max. On the twenty-second day, at 0815 hours, six men rode casually past Chris like they were on a stable ride.
Chris radioed Cole, then fell in behind and shadowed them as they rode nonchalantly toward Cole’s position.
For three hours the Texas patrol continued south, occasionally stopping to glass the surrounding area from the vantage point of a rooftop.
100 yards from Cole, Chris squawked he was in position.
“Roger. On my command.”
It was over in five seconds.
“Let’s call it in, Chris.”
Chris radioed Wade. “Mission accomplished. Be there in an hour.”
Five minutes later, Chris and Cole were headed back to New Fort Terminus.
Thirty minutes after Vandenberg was found, McNulty was in Shelton’s office attempting to calm him down. McNulty said, “Gabriel, the guy was an opportunist. It is as simple as that. In the grand scheme of things, it is no big deal.”
Shelton replied, “Dammit, David, it is a big deal. He knows about the Mexican coup. He knows about the Florida patrol. He knows everything.”
McNulty thought, Yeah. He does. You should have kept your ego in check and your big mouth shut. Then he said, “Please, Gabriel. You must learn to relax. Let us assume for one moment—just one—that Randal, if that is indeed his name, was a Mexican spy. Even if they have knowledge of the coup, which I sincerely doubt, there is nothing they can do about it at this late date. Besides, the man could not even be at the border yet, and the coup gets underway in”—he looked at his watch—“less than thirty minutes.” He smiled at Shelton. “As for the Florida patrol, yes, the verdict is still out. But Gabriel, the Floridians are not going anywhere. They are Neanderthals. There is no rush. We can take them down whenever we wish.”
“Well, I have to admit your argument makes sense, but I’m not in the habit of allowing someone to get over on me like that.”
“Shelve your pride, my friend. Shelve your pride. Remember who you are. You are the father of a new nation. You are Sir Gabriel Shelton.”
“That’s nice, David, but something’s not right with the patrol.”
“I still believe it’s most likely that their sat phone is inoperable. “
McNulty paused a moment, then grinned. “Or maybe they met some of those Florida babes and are partying hard on a beach somewhere.”
Shelton grimaced. “Very funny, David.”
“I am sorry, my friend. That was merely an attempt at levity on my part. I do apologize. At the same time, I simply cannot imagine that the Floridians overcame our patrol. And indeed, our men would not have joined them. But all is not lost, my friend. I will contact the primates and put out some feelers.”
“Like what?”
“I will tell them we sent men with supplies to help them and measure their response. In the interim period, we have a sizeable job ahead with assimilating the Mexican settlement into the Nation. I suggest we concentrate on that.”
Shelton wasn’t convinced. “Fuck a bunch of Mexicans. I don’t like loose ends, David. The Florida patrol and the Florida settlement are both loose ends.”
“I understand, Gabriel. I will take care of it.”
The Texas Nation radiomen fondly referred to the communications center as the den, which was nothing more than a table with a radio and a wall map of what was once the United States. But since McNulty spent the majority of his time attempting to locate survivors over the ham radio, which he found considerably more difficult to do than manipulating Sir Gabriel Shelton, he’d added a few creature comforts, such as a cabinet and a fridge to hold his never-ending supply of snacks.
Entering the den before lunch, he asked the operator on duty if there was any traffic. The reply was negative. He stood to think for a minute, then entered an adjacent storage room that doubled as his office, turned on the lights, closed the door, and dropped his hippo-sized derriere into the custom-made reinforced chair behind a surprisingly small desk. He put his chin in his hand and speculated. He definitely didn’t want to let on to Shelton that the lack of communications with the Florida patrol concerned him, but in fact it troubled him a great deal.
After twenty minutes in his office, McNulty reentered the main den area and told the operator to take a break. When the door closed, he picked up the mic. “Florida, this is Texas Nation. Stuart, are you there?”
The radio operator at New Fort-T answered and told McNulty he would get Stuart. Five minutes later, Stuart called McNulty back.
After a minute of chitchat, McNulty informed Stuart that, because he wanted to help, he had sent men with food and supplies but that the patrol hadn’t checked in for more than twenty-four hours. “I am quite concerned, Stuart. Have they made contact with you?”
“That was a nice ges
ture, David, but no, I’m sorry to say, we haven’t heard from them. We’ve had a series of bad storms here the past few weeks. Perhaps they got caught up in one. Where were they when you last heard from them?”
“South of Lakeland.”
“I assume they’re on horseback?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Lakeland’s a two-day ride. It’s likely that area also encountered severe storms. If you know their route, I can send a couple of my men to look for them.”
“I would appreciate that immensely, Stuart. I will call you back. In the interim, I can send more supplies, but it would certainly be helpful if I knew exactly where to send them.”
Stuart was silent for a long second. “Well, honestly, David, while I appreciate the offer, there’s not much sense sending us anything right now. We’re going to relocate to either the Tampa Bay area or to Miami later this week. We haven’t decided which one yet, but as soon as the decision is made, I’ll call you with the exact location.”
When the conversation ended, McNulty leaned back in his chair and thought, Stuart, you are one lying piece of shit, and your acting skills will never garner you an Oscar nomination.
Chapter Seven
Game Plan
Wade stood to stare at the sunrise from the window of the Powwow Room, his face stoic and his eyes bloodshot. The old adage, “Red sky at morning, sailors take warning,” flashed like a neon sign inside his head.
Pouring over the Sebring area map, Bill looked up from his seat at the conference table. “You look like shit, man. Catch twenty. I’ll wake you when he calls.”
Without turning, Wade muttered, “I’m good.”
Bill pushed his chair from the table and walked to Wade’s side. “Randal’s fine. It’s only been eight hours.”
“Yeah, but we both know shit happens.”
“Worrying won’t change the outcome. Randal needs you to be at your best. Take a break.”
Wade turned and, for what seemed like the hundredth time in the past six hours, examined the map and Randal’s route home.