No Direction Home (Book 2): Eastwood

by Mike Sheridan

  “I was just a young man during 9/11,” he reflected. “To be honest, I never felt comfortable about our treatment of prisoners at Guantanamo Bay. I felt that as Americans we needed to show the world we had principles. That we had a core decency that couldn’t be corrupted. Torture isn’t decent.

  “Then a decade later, ISIS emerged, an even more brutal regime. I was older then, more mature, and my reasoning changed. I figured that although we shouldn’t advertise the means by which we got information from our enemies, we had to do whatever it took to protect our country from those who were intent on destroying it. That included torture.” Rollins shrugged. “We change as we get older. The more we see, the harder our hearts grow. Just the way it is.”

  “And now?” Sadowski asked quietly. “Have you changed again since the pandemic? Have you grown even harder?”

  Rollins leveled his gaze at her. “Absolutely, Mary. Mankind has just survived an extinction level event. Now we need to make sure the good guys win. By whatever means necessary.”

  CHAPTER 30

  Around 8 p.m., as the last of the summer light dwindled from the skies, the group of five halted for the night. Exiting off US 19, Pete turned onto a minor road and headed for Toto Creek Park, marked by Maya on the map as a potential place to find survivors.

  Earlier, when touring the area around Ellijay, they’d encountered a group of twelve people who had taken over a small farm. Though not as hostile as the group at Fort Mountain, they’d made it clear that Pete and his group should move on right away.

  It had been over two weeks since the pandemic first swept across the nation, and it appeared that those who’d wanted to join larger groups had done so already. Those traveling alone or in pairs were rare sightings, and the few they’d come across had either run away into the forest or stared at them with crazed expressions. Another two lay dead by the shores of a lake outside an area called Tails Creek.

  “The survivor recruitment business…hardest game in the world,” Ralph remarked dryly as they pulled into the park. “Glad I’m only the muscle around here. No pressure on me.”

  Toto Creek Park was a small national park located on the northwest corner of Lake Lanier. The facilities were primitive, no more than a few basic campsites that had never had electricity or potable water.

  Driving around, they saw no signs of human habitation. Not a single RV or tent pitched anywhere.

  “I guess this is a good a place as any to pull up for the night,” Pete said, halting at the third campsite they visited. It had a triangular-shaped lawn with six or seven camping spots spread around it, each with a wooden picnic table beside them.

  In the dusk, the place looked a little spooky. “You sure it’s safe here?” Jenny asked Maya, worried.

  “Don’t worry,” Maya said soothingly. “Nobody is going to bother us. Isn’t that so, Ralph?”

  “That’s right, the only boogie man around here is me.” Ralph turned in his seat and put on a scary face which, for him, didn’t take much effort. “Roooaarrr!”

  Laura let out a loud squeal, shrinking back in her seat. Laughing, Maya pointed to the site farthest away from the lake. “Pete, drive over there. There’ll be less chance of getting bitten by midges.”

  Pete stepped on the gas and steered the Tacoma up to the site. Getting out of the vehicle, Ralph walked around the back and took out the two tents they’d brought with them. One for him and Maya, one for Pete.

  He looked at Maya, who’d just got out of the car too. “So, how we going to do this?”

  “You and Pete sleep in one tent. I’ll sleep in the other with the girls,” she replied.

  “Fine. So long as you tuck me in and give me my goodnight kiss.”

  CHAPTER 31

  Maya woke up at 7 a.m. She poked her head out the tent flap to see a shimmering mist rising off the lake. Above the tree line, the early morning sun was already intent on burning it off, and it looked to be another sweltering day. She roused everyone from their slumber and soon they all emerged from their tents to join her.

  The previous night had passed by uneventfully. While Ralph and Pete pitched the tents, she and Jenny had prepared a simple supper of tinned pork and beans, which they doled out onto plastic plates and eaten with spoons. Soon after, they had all gone to bed.

  The two tents had been pitched next to each other, and Ralph took the spot by the entrance to his, the flap unzipped, his Bushmaster next to him, cocked and locked. In Maya’s tent, Laura and Jenny whispered to each other in the dark for a while before finally nodding off. Rolling onto her side on the thin foam mattress, Maya had done the same.

  The five ate their breakfast unhurriedly. Afterward, they packed the tents and stowed them in the back of the Tacoma, along with the rest of the camping gear.

  While Ralph lit up his first cigarette of the day, Pete strolled over to Maya, who leaned over the pickup’s hood consulting the map. “Where to, navigator?” he asked, staring over her shoulder.

  She pointed a brightly painted fingernail down at the map. “We’re here, Toto Creek Park. If we drive north, we can pick up Highway 136 and cross the lake, then head east toward Don Carter State Park. It can’t be more than sixty miles away.”

  “Why there?”

  “I have a hunch there’ll be survivors there. It’s got plenty of forest, and the northern tip of Lake Lanier runs down the entire eastern border. That makes it a good area to fish as well as hunt.”

  “Sounds good to me. Who knows, maybe our luck will improve today.” Pete glanced over at Laura and Jenny. They sat on either side of Ralph at the picnic table while he smoked his cigarette. He smiled. “I’m not sure the girls quite fit into Walter’s expectation of ‘able-bodied men and women’. They’re a bit young for that.”

  “Don’t let Laura hear you say that. She’s chuffed that she and Jenny are the camp’s very first recruits.”

  Maya stared across at the bench where Laura leaned against Ralph’s shoulder, her golden curls blowing gently in the morning breeze. Since arriving at the park the previous evening, she had stuck to the bank robber like glue, prattling away while he did his chores, handing him the poles and stakes as he and Pete erected the tents. She’d obviously tapped into the same reassuring presence that lurked beneath his ferocious features that Maya first had. Even Jenny, though more reserved, felt it. There was just something about Ralph that made a woman feel safe.

  Taking one last drag, Ralph flicked his cigarette into the bushes, then stood. He strolled over to the pickup, Laura and Jenny in tow. “All set?”

  Pete nodded. “Time to find some more recruits to add to the party.” He winked at the girls. “It won’t be easy. We got a certain standard to maintain.”

  “What we need is a couple of gun-toting Christians to add to the mix. God-fearing people we can trust,” Ralph said. “Maybe we can even get a prayer meeting going in the evenings back at camp,” he added with a grin.

  Maya chuckled. “Never took you for much of a Christian. Did I miss out on that, somehow?”

  “Nope, just that prison taught me to sooner trust a man who knows their Genesis to Revelation than one who doesn’t. Just the way it is.”

  “So long as they shoot straight, I’m game,” Pete said, laughing. He clapped his hands. “All right everybody, into the truck. Keep your eyes skinned for anyone with a Bible sticking out of their pack. Pox can’t have taken them all away!”

  CHAPTER 32

  Outside Zephyr House, five people piled into the old Volkswagen station wagon. With Fred’s grudging acquiescence, Marcie climbed in stiffly behind the wheel. Even at seventy-three years of age, she was the fittest member of the group to drive the vehicle. Simone came a close second. Judging her by her motorcycling experience, though, Marcie had made it clear she had no intention of letting the fifteen-year-old drive.

  Beside her in the front passenger seat sat Fred. Eric had expertly plucked him out of his wheelchair and placed him in the seat, after which Simone had wheeled the chair around to
the back of the car and placed it in the trunk.

  Marcie started the engine, released the handbrake, and drove up the drive, where at the gate, Billy jumped out and opened it. After she passed through, he closed it again and jumped back in beside Eric, with Simone sitting over at the far window.

  Twenty minutes later, they reached the junction of Clarks Bridge Road and headed north in the direction of Clermont. Driving parallel to the Don Carter State Park a few miles to their east, they continued north until they reached Nopone Road and turned left onto it.

  After driving half a mile, Billy leaned forward and tapped Marcie lightly on the shoulder. “Take this turn here,” he said, pointing to a narrow country road coming up on their right. “It’s the shortcut to the farm.”

  Slowing down, Marcie glanced up at the rearview mirror with a frown. “There’s another car behind us,” she said. “You think it’s been following us?”

  Fred swiveled in his seat. So did Simone, and caught a glimpse of a pickup truck about five hundred yards back. It disappeared from view as Marcie made the turn.

  “I didn’t see it,” Fred said anxiously. “Did you catch the color or make?”

  “It was a dark brown pickup,” Simone replied. “I couldn’t make out the model.”

  “Dammit. The men who attacked us three days ago drove a brown Dodge Ram.”

  Simone stared at him in alarm. “You think they followed us from the house?”

  “I don’t know. Let’s hope not. Marcie, put your foot down. We’ll find out soon enough.”

  The road ran in a straight line for about a mile. Marcie stepped on the accelerator and the Volkswagen slowly picked up speed. Other than her and Eric, all eyes stared anxiously out the back window.

  Ten seconds later, behind them, a brown pickup came around the corner. It picked up speed, quickly gaining ground.

  “It’s them!” Fred groaned, his neck craned at an awkward angle as he stared out the back window. Turning back in his seat, he grabbed his Savage-Steven 12 gauge shotgun resting between his knees. “Get ready for trouble. Looks like they mean business.”

  Simone reached into her pocket and withdrew her Glock. Billy buzzed down his window, then grabbed his Remington resting on the back ledge.

  “No, Billy!” Simone cried out. “You’re too young to get involved in this.”

  “I’m only three years younger than you,” Billy told her firmly. “And I am involved in this.”

  “Fred, what do you think?” Simone asked uncertainly.

  Fred stuck the barrel of his shotgun out the window. He glanced back briefly. “If they start shooting, we’ll need all the firepower we can muster,” he said grimly.

  “Is there anything I can do?” Eric asked anxiously, his tall frame sitting awkwardly between Simone and Billy.

  “Keep your head down and stay alive,” Fred told him. “Without you, I’m no good to anybody.”

  The pickup continued to draw closer. Simone could make out it was a late model Dodge Ram. It was obvious they weren’t going to outrun it.

  A long burst of gunfire erupted from behind them. “Get down!” Fred yelled.

  “My God, that sounded like rifle fire,” Eric said, ducking his head. To either side of him, Simone and Billy did likewise. “Last time they only had pistols.”

  “Yeah,” Fred replied tersely. “Looks like they’ve been to a gun store since then.”

  The next bend loomed ahead. Marcie kept going at full speed as another heavy stream of gunfire opened up. Bullets slammed into the Volkswagen’s bodywork. Several holes appeared in the back window, each one surrounded by a spider’s web of cracked glass.

  “Bastards!” Fred yelled furiously. He leaned his head out the window, took aim, and fired off two shots. No appreciable damage appeared on the pursuing vehicle.

  “Too far away for a shotgun,” he muttered. He clicked open the breach, ejected both casings, and reloaded the weapon.

  Simone leaned out her window and popped off several shots from her Glock. At least one bullet found its mark. The pickup’s front windshield shattered on the driver side and it immediately slowed down.

  “Good shooting!” Fred shouted gleefully. “That’ll make them think twice about what they’re getting into.”

  Simone knew the relief was only temporary. Armed with semi-automatic rifles against their shotguns and pistols, she doubted the men would give up that easily.

  A moment later, Marcie took the bend. The Volkswagen’s wheels skidded dangerously in the dirt of the road’s margin just as the shooting started up again.

  As it straightened out, the car slowed down. Simone spun around in her seat. “Marcie, keep going!” she yelled in dismay.

  Marcie clutched the steering wheel, her arms ramrod straight, staring fixedly ahead. “My God, it’s a trap!” she screamed.

  Simone stared out the windscreen. Five hundred yards away, a blue pickup truck bore down on them. A rifle poked out of the front passenger window, pointing straight at them.

  “How the hell…” Fred exclaimed in disbelief.

  “Damned if I know.” A determined look came over Marcie’s face. She hunched over the wheel, steered the Volkswagen into the middle of the road and drove down the white line. “Time to play a game of chicken. Let’s see who blinks first.”

  CHAPTER 33

  Leaving Toto Creek Park behind them, Ralph and his group had made good progress over the past hour. Pete had picked up Highway 136 and driven east through north-central Georgia. Maintaining a steady seventy, they’d put on the miles in smart order. When they reached the junction of State Route 283, they swung north onto it, and after a couple more miles, crossed Lake Lanier over the Wahoo Creek Bridge.

  A short time later, Maya instructed Pete to turn right onto a secondary road, and they drove eastward once more. “We’re only fifteen miles away from the park,” she said, consulting the map. “Should be there soon.”

  The scenery to either side of the road was beautiful, comprised of lush meadows, rolling hills, and gently sloping valleys, interspersed by forests and lakes. They passed several large estates with high-end mansions perched on the tops of hills with huge gardens and fancy stone pillar gates.

  “Looks like there used to be money here before the shit hit the fan,” Pete commented. “How about we take one of these back roads and check out some of these farms I’ve seen signposted?”

  “No harm in taking a look,” Maya replied.

  At the next junction, Pete swung onto a narrow country lane where a mixture of forest and agricultural land lay to either side of the road.

  After a couple of miles, Ralph turned in his seat. “All right girls, remember our mission. Keep your eyes peeled for any signs of life, okay?”

  “What kind of life?” Laura asked. “Do you mean humans, or animals too?”

  “Anything. If there are any animals still alive, most likely there’ll be people nearby too. You see as much as a skinny little dog on its own, you holler out.”

  Laura’s eyes darted past Ralph’s, staring out through the windscreen. “Ralph, I’m hollering!” she shouted excitedly. “It’s not a skinny dog either…look!”

  Ralph spun back around in his seat. A few hundred yards ahead of them, traveling at speed, an old gray station wagon swung around the bend, barely holding the road.

  The sound of gunfire erupted. “Are they shooting at us?” Pete asked incredulously.

  “No idea.” Ralph grabbed his Bushmaster. Switching the rifle’s safety position from safe to fire, he thrust the barrel out the window. “Watch out people. Looks like trouble coming our way.”

  As if to confirm his suspicions, the station wagon suddenly pulled out into the middle of the road, refusing to make any room for the approaching Tacoma.

  “Sweet Jesus!” Pete screamed in alarm. He tugged hard at the wheel and swerved across to the hard shoulder, skidding to a stop.

  Moments later, the station wagon shot past them. Ralph caught sight of a gray-haired lady hunched be
hind the wheel. Beside her sat an old man of similar age. Sticking out his window was a rifle of some description.

  As the vehicle flashed by, Ralph saw that three distinct bullet holes peppered the rear window. Before he had time to think, a brown pickup truck hurtled around the bend, driving even faster than the station wagon. Its windscreen was broken, a large hole punched out where the driver’s face stared grimly out. Rifle barrels stuck out all three passenger windows.

  “What the f—” Ralph exclaimed as the vehicle drove past. The four men inside barely glanced at them. One leaned his head out the window. Aiming his rifle clumsily, he opened up on the station wagon, and the sound of gunfire broke out again. At that distance and without proper sighting, Ralph doubted he’d hit the vehicle.

  “What on Earth is going on?” Pete asked, a bewildered look on his face. “Those guys look hellbent on killing that old couple.”

  “Beats me,” Ralph replied tersely.

  “I saw a girl in the back of the first car,” Jenny said. Sitting on the side facing the road, she’d had a better view than Ralph. “A black girl about my age.”

  “Should we help them?” Maya asked worriedly. “We’ve got two children to think of.”

  “We should help,” Jenny said. “Just like you helped us.” She looked over at her friend.

  “Do it,” Laura said firmly.

  “You hear the ladies,” Ralph told Pete. “Do it.”

  Without a word, Pete pulled hard on the wheel and drove the Taco back onto the road. Making a three point turn, he floored the gas pedal and took off after the two vehicles.

  “Okay girls. The two of you need to crouch down behind the seats,” Ralph instructed. “Maya, make sure they keep their heads down, yours as well.”

  “Ralph, is this going to be a car chase like you see in the movies?” Laura asked excitedly.