CHAPTER 4
Rollins steered his Dodge Charger in through the Wasson Lodge entranceway, tooting his horn at his two men manning the South Cookson checkpoint ten yards past the turn. Given the uncertain circumstances, it was more important than ever that they guarded the road.
The previous afternoon, he’d received news that five trucks had left the lodge. “They’re all towing trailers, Sheriff. Looks like they’re leaving for good,” a man named Jake Calley had radioed in. “The black guy, Walter, he’s with them too.”
Rollins hadn’t liked the sound of that. Walter had been due to start work on Camp Benton’s micro-hydro project soon, something Rollins was anxious to get started on. Part of his reason for the visit today was to find out where Walter had gotten to.
At the top of the driveway, he pulled up outside the lodge and got out of the car. A partially-built fence surrounded the building, and at one end several bales of razor wire lay on the ground. Close by, a man sat on a pile of sandbags, his rifle next to him. As he climbed the porch steps, Rollins waved to him. The man raised his arm listlessly in return.
He stepped inside the doorway. “Chris?” he called.
A moment later, Chris poked his head out the living room door and ushered him forward. Rollins walked down the hall and entered the room to find Chris there on his own.
“Howdy,” Rollins greeted him, noting his pale, tense face. The Camp Knox leader didn’t exude the same abundant energy he’d witnessed the last time he’s seen him. It appeared that Walter’s exit had had a bad effect on camp morale.
Sitting down in an armchair opposite Chris, he got straight to the point. “My men tell me Walter and some of the others left the camp yesterday. That true?”
The expression on Chris’s face soured. “He and a few others were causing trouble here,” he replied. “I had to get rid of them.”
Rollins frowned. “Five trucks left. That’s a lot of people.”
“Two belonged to some strangers that arrived yesterday. They turned out to be a rough lot, so I got rid of them as well.”
Rollins had heard all about them. The checkpoint guards were instructed to report on all activity in and out of the area. It appeared the newcomers had chosen to leave with Walter too. Things had gone downhill rapidly at the lodge.
“You know where they went to?” he asked.
“No idea,” Chris replied sullenly. “Sheriff, I got things to do. What exactly is it you want?”
Rollins stared at him evenly. “I’m here to assess the situation. Your security situation affects everybody. How many people are left here now?”
“Six. Soon as we complete the perimeter fence, I’ll start recruiting. Don’t worry, I’ll have the numbers up again soon. There’s plenty of people out there looking for a safe place to live.” He smiled bitterly at Rollins. “Seeing as Walter has left, looks like you’re going to have to find someone else for your engineering project.”
Rollins shrugged. “Looks that way.” He stood. There didn’t seem much point in staying any longer. Chris was making that very clear. “All right, thanks for the update. Don’t worry, I’ll see myself out.”
Back in his Charger, Rollins headed down the driveway, wondering where the hell Walter had gotten to. He hoped he was still in the area, in which case Rollins was confident the ex-Army engineer would get in touch with him. Walter didn’t seem the type to welch on a deal.
***
He returned to camp to find Bert Olvan and three strangers in the staff lounge. A man and woman in their early thirties stood by the window, while Olvan sat at the table with another woman. She was a little older, perhaps in her forties.
Olvan stood up as Rollins stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.
“Uh, John, we got visitors,” he said, looking a little uncomfortable.
“So I see. What’s going on, Bert?”
“I found them in Benton this morning.” Olvan pointed to the seated woman. “This is Monica Jeffreys.”
Rollins nodded briefly at her. “Morning ma’am.”
“And this is Jonah and Colleen Murphy. They’re from Ireland.”
Rollins raised an eyebrow. “You two are a long way from home,” he said as the Irishman strode over to him, hand outstretched. He was a big-shouldered fellow with auburn hair and a broad, freckled face.
Rollins glanced down at his meaty forearms as he shook his hand. On both were several cheap-looking tattoos. One was a brightly colored ship’s anchor, with a name underneath it he couldn’t make out, that of his wife or mother, he was sure. On the other arm a scowling black cat stood on the number thirteen, its back stiffly arched.
“Pleased to meet yeh, Sheriff,” Jonah said in a thick Irish brogue. “Yep, we’re a long way from home with no way of getting back either. Me and the missus were on holidays in Orlando when this shit went—”
“When the pandemic struck,” his wife cut in, shaking Rollins’s hand next. Petite, pretty, with shoulder-length blonde hair, she stared at him through a set of steady blue eyes. “It’s been a nightmare, but we’re dealing with it.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“John, in case you’re wondering, Monica here was born and raised in Benton,” Olvan explained. “Her father, Pat Jeffreys was a good friend of mine. I don’t think you knew him, he died ten years ago. Anyways, Monica has been living in Savannah this past while. She drove up this morning. I found her on Station Road, trying to figure out where in heck’s name everyone was.”
Rollins smiled. “Lucky she bumped into you. It might have taken a while to figure out where we’d all gotten to.”
“I know this area well, Sheriff,” Monica replied. “After checking the farms, the lake was next on my list. I used to bring my husband and children here every summer. After my mother died, I held onto the house on Wilson Street to keep our connection with the place. Charles and the kids loved coming here…” Her voice trailed off. “Of course, everything is different now. I’m the only one in the family to survive.”
“I take it you met these two in Savannah?” Rollins asked, glancing over at the Irish couple.
“Yes, I met them yesterday. They helped me out of a tight spot…a…a nasty situation.”
“It’s true,” Olvan cut in. “This fine couple risked their lives for Monica. Drove all guns blazing into a supermarket parking lot to save her from a gang of men who had nothing but bad intentions toward her. That right, Jonah?”
“A bunch of skangers had it in for her, no question about it,” Jonah replied, nodding his head vigorously. “We bate them off quick enough though. I did the driving—Jason Statham style—while Colleen popped away at them with her Armalite. Can’t deny we had a couple of hairy moments, but it turned out all right in the end.”
The more Jonah talked, speaking faster and faster with his thick accent, the more trouble Rollins had understanding him. He nodded politely. “Sounds like you did a fine job.” He stared at the couple. “What are your plans now?”
Jonah flashed a high-beam smile at him. “Funny yeh should mention that. Before we met Monica, we weren’t exactly sure where we were heading. Seeing as we’re here now, we were hoping we might stay a while.” He glanced at Olvan. “Bertie tells me you’re the head honcho around these parts, and we need to run it past you. What do you say, Sheriff?”
Rollins hesitated. Everyone at the camp was from Benton. So far they hadn’t allowed any strangers in. While friendly, and obviously strong and able, there was something about the Irishman’s restless eyes and unbridled energy he found slightly disconcerting. He needed to be careful.
Jonah caught his look. “Ah, don’t be giving yerself a hernia over it, Sheriff. Not a bother,” he said, smiling ruefully. “Give us a jiffy and me and the missus will be out of yer hair quicker than a toupee in a hurricane. Yeh get them around these parts, don’t yis?”
“John…they did save Monica’s life,” Olvan said quietly. “That counts for a lot in my book.”
“In my book
too, Bert.” Rollins made his decision. “I’ll run it past the council to make it official, but you can take it from me and Bert, the two of you can stay.”
Jonah grinned. “Ah, yeh had me going there for a minute, Sheriff. Thought you were going to give us the right old boot. Yeh won’t regret it. I’m pretty handy on carpentry and the likes. Anything you need done around here, just give me a shout.”
“Thank you. Will do.”
Jonah continued. “Yeh wouldn’t have an old paddleboat lying around somewhere, would yeh? Seeing as it’s such a gorgeous day, I wouldn’t mind getting out on the lake and doing a bit of fishing. I’m told the catfish are practically leppin’ out of the water. That’s so, Bertie?”
Olvan glanced over at Rollins, grinning. “That’s right, Jonah. Catfish, bass, crappie, bluegill. We got them all here.”
“Magic!” Jonah exclaimed, rubbing his hands gleefully. “Finally, I get to do a bit of fishing!”
Unable to help himself, Rollins broke out into a smile too. The excitable Irishman’s humor was infectious, even if he could barely understand a word he said.
“Don’t worry,” he told him. “We’ll see to it you get out on the lake. It’s the very least we can do for bringing one of our own home safe and sound.”
CHAPTER 5
The eight members of the newly-formed “Jack’s River Camp” group sat in a circle under the shade of a large oak tree on the east side of the Alaculsy Valley. Nearby, the sound of rushing waters could be heard as they tumbled down a bouldered riverbed.
The group was conducting its first official meeting.
“First things first,” Walter began. Leaning against the base of the tree, he sat cross-legged, holding a small notebook in his hand. “You’ve all had a chance to take a look around. What do y’all make of our new home?”
That morning, Cody and Emma had risen early to explore the surrounding area, and hiked deeper into Georgia along a tributary of the Conasauga. Following a well-worn trail, they’d passed through valleys profuse with wildflowers and blooming mountain laurel, and traversed lush green forests rich with moss, fern, and rhododendron.
“If this isn’t paradise, where on Earth is?” Emma had asked as the two bathed in a deep pool. Above them, cool mountain waters tumbled over a rocky outcrop and onto their heads. After making love, they’d headed back to camp, just in time for the group’s first meeting.
“It’s beautiful here,” Emma said, in reply to Walter’s question. “So peaceful.”
Walter smiled. “Let’s do everything we can to keep it that way.” He paused briefly. “Now, some of you have requested that I should accept the role as leader of this group. Unlike a certain someone we all know, I think everyone should be given a chance to put their names forward for the position. So, if anyone wants to, now would be the time to do that.”
Everyone looked around the circle at each other, shaking their heads. Ralph was the first to speak. “From what I’ve heard, you got the smarts around here. Go for it.”
“Absolutely,” Greta said, sitting opposite him. “It’s unanimous, Walter. It’s you.”
Walter nodded his head graciously. “Thank you. I’d be honored to take the role. And you can all rest easy in knowing that I’m not the power-hungry type. Anytime the group decides there’s someone better served to do the job, I’ll be happy to step down.”
Sitting to his right, Pete chuckled. “They say power is a drug, Walter. Who knows how you’ll feel when the time actually comes.”
“Pete, I told you not to give the game away,” Walter replied, winking at him. “All right. When the group gets bigger, we can think about appointing a council. For now, we can decide things among the eight of us, everyone agreed?”
Around the circle, everybody nodded in assent.
“Good. Today, let’s stick to our immediate needs. Things like security arrangements and scavenging runs. Recruitment is also going to be real important. I don’t think a build it and they will come policy is going to work these days. First though, I thought we’d start off with a fun item. ‘Jack’s River Camp’? Don’t know about the rest of you, but that sounds kinda lame to me. Can anyone think of a better name, something with a little more oomph?” His eyes rested on Cody. “I say we give you first shot at it. Any ideas, kid?”
Cody thought for a moment. “Yeah,” he said hesitantly. “If it’s okay with everyone, I’d like to name it ‘Camp Eastwood’. In memory of my father’s favorite actor.”
A murmur of assent went around the circle. Walter nodded approvingly.
“Very fitting. Camp Eastwood it is. All right, let’s talk about recruitment. We got the ideal location to build a great community, we’re just short a few people, that’s all. There’s gangs fifteen, twenty strong, roaming the area. Sooner or later, they’re going to find their way here. With only eight of us, it’ll be a tall order to defend this place, so we need to move on this fast. Anyone here like to volunteer to go out on a recruitment tour and bring back a bunch of able-bodied men and women?”
Pete shot up his hand. “I’ll go. I think I can find the right people.” He smiled weakly. “I made an error in judgment once before. I won’t make that same mistake again.”
Walter nodded. “Agreed. Hard won lessons are always the best ones. You’ll need a couple more people to go with you, though. It’s too dangerous out there for just one man.” He looked around the group. “Who else wants to volunteer to go with Pete? Somebody good with a gun.”
Cody glanced at Emma, a questioning look in his eye. She gave him a quick nod of her head. He was about to reply when Ralph spoke up. “If you need someone good with a gun, I’m your man.”
“I can vouch for that. He’s real good,” Maya said. “I’ll come too. In a situation like this, having a woman with you can only help with the recruiting.”
“Thanks guys,” Pete replied with a pleased grin. “I couldn’t wish for two better traveling companions.”
“That’s the perfect recruitment team,” Walter agreed, a satisfied look on his face. “All right, the day after tomorrow, you need to do a sweep of the nearby towns. First time around, don’t bring back more than three or four people. We need to assimilate folk into the group carefully. That’s one thing Chris was right about.”
“True,” Ralph said. “Even one bad dude is a problem.” He shrugged. “Not that it’ll be my decision. I’m just the muscle.”
Pete grinned. “Between me and Maya, I’m sure we’ll figure it out. You can all look forward to seeing some friendly new faces here soon.”
Walter next went onto security arrangements. Cody glanced over at Emma and smiled. These were good, strong people, and he felt confident about how everything was going. No doubt challenges still awaited them, but with Walter at the helm, he felt their chances of survival were good. Time would tell.
CHAPTER 6
“Jaysus, that was some journey, wasn’t it, love? Wouldn’t want to do that again in a hurry.”
Beer in hand, Jonah leaned against the porch rail of Chickasaw, the cabin Bert Olvan had just assigned the couple ten minutes ago. Twenty feet away, Lake Ocoee’s azure waters sparkled invitingly in the sun.
He sighed contentedly. “Finally, we can relax.”
Inside, Colleen lay on the bed, resting. Their new dwelling slept up to six people, but the couple had the place to themselves for now. With eighteen cabins in total at the camp, there had been no need for them to share.
The cabin was cozy. It had its own bathroom, and a small kitchen with a gas oven and stovetop. Without running water, they would have to fill a bucket from the lake to flush the toilet, Olvan had explained earlier.
“That’s no bother, Bertie,” Jonah had replied cheerfully. “Been in a lot worse places than this on me travels. Yeh wouldn’t believe the state of the campsite I stayed in Wexford last summer. The jakes was a real kip. I tell yeh, the smell was bleedin’ brutal.”
“That’s enough, Jonah,” Colleen said firmly. “I’m sure Bert doesn’
t want to hear about your camping experiences in Ireland right now. We’ve got more important things to think about.”
Olvan chuckled. “Tonight over a beer, I’d like to hear all about it. You look like someone who’s got a few stories to tell.”
Jonah grinned. “Sound man, Bertie. Yeh might even catch me singing a song or two while I’m at it.”
With that, Olvan had clapped Jonah on the shoulder and left, strolling over to the nearby, and appropriately named, Three Sisters cabin, where Monica was sharing living quarters with two women around the same age as herself.
Finishing off his beer, Jonah poked his head in through the door and stared over at Colleen. “Right, love. I’ll go and fetch the rest of the gear from the car. After that, I’m going to grab a rod and take a proper gander at this lake. Bertie says he’ll have a boat ready for me. Yeh fancy coming?”
“I got a headache,” Colleen said, lying on the bed. “I just want to relax for now. When you get back, I’ll prepare some lunch. We’ll have our last meal together before I take our provisions over to the dining hall.”
The one stipulation Sheriff Rollins had made on allowing the couple to join the Benton group was that they agreed to hand over their foodstuffs to be shared communally. Neither of them had objected. They were joining a large, well-organized group, and it made sense that something as critical as food was shared among everyone.
Before showing them to their cabins, Olvan had introduced the three to Mary Sadowski who, as well as being the firearms instructor at the camp, held the keys to kitchen storeroom.
Jonah had stared at the spry sixty-year-old lady, grinning. “You’re perfect for the job, Mary, there’s not a pick on yeh. Doesn’t look like yer scoffing down the Jammie Dodgers when nobody’s looking.”
No Direction Home (Book 2): Eastwood Page 2