When April didn’t reply, Wayne carried on:
“I don’t know where the three of you came from or where you thought you were going, but if you’ve survived this long since the blackout, you’ve got to know how dangerous it is everywhere. Anyone that’s going to stay alive now has got to play it smart, and the smart ones have got to stick together. We know what we’re doing and we’ve made it fine this far. You’ll see when you meet the rest of our little tribe and realize how well prepared we are. It’s not like some of us didn’t see something like this coming for a long time before it did.”
Wayne Parker had been expecting America to collapse any day for at least the last seven or eight years. He didn’t see how things could possibly keep going the way they were with the state of the economy and the way people seemed so divided on every issue. He had grown up in Jackson County, the home of Ingalls Shipbuilding and much of the other heavy industry of Mississippi’s Gulf Coast. Thirty-two years old when the lights went out, Wayne had worked in the oilfields off Louisiana since he’d graduated high school and then completed an underwater welding course shortly thereafter. He had made good money out on the rigs, working mostly two weeks on and two weeks off, but his ex-wife had taken most of it and the child support for his two sons that came out of his checks left him little better off than when he was single in his early twenties. But at least the bitter divorce cured him of any romantic notions he had entertained before about marriage. What was left after the child support payments, taxes and bills, he spent on temporary girlfriends, deer hunting and fishing boats.
Of those three, it was the deer hunting he loved the most. He couldn’t get enough of it and eventually he put all the extra money he could spare into buying some land with a few other guys he knew from work. The property was up in George County, less than an hour’s drive from the rental house in Moss Point where he was living with his girlfriend, Tracy when the pulse hit. Whenever he was in from his hitch, especially if it was deer season, he practically lived at the cabin he and the guys had built there. The property they purchased together totaled nearly 200 acres, and it joined up to the tens of thousands more of federal and state public lands, most of it part of Desoto National Forest and a state wildlife management area. All in all, it was a vast expanse of river bottom forest, swamp and bayous and was virtually a wilderness once you got away from the few roads that skirted the edges.
When Wayne was out there with his friends, surrounded by woods in every direction, thoughts of his job, and the traffic and congestion of the coast far behind, he felt more alive than anywhere else. Things had changed a hell of a lot on the coast since he was a kid growing up there. For one, the legalization of gambling and the consequential growth in the form of casinos, hotels and housing for the influx of people to the area transformed the sleepy fishing towns he remembered into bustling resorts. People moved in from everywhere, many of them from up north and other places far from Mississippi. They brought new ways of doing things and new ideas with them, changing the places he knew and loved to better suit the way they wanted to live. And they could do it because they had money. They bought out local politicians and got their way practically every time. And because they had money and spent it freely, they drove up the price of everything, leaving the locals who couldn’t afford to keep up out of luck. It got even worse after Katrina hit in 2005.
The devastating hurricane not only leveled a lot of the new development, but finished off for good most of the holdout enclaves of the old Gulf Coast. Federal money and insurance payouts funded a bigger than ever developmental push, and the growth that ensued changed the coast faster in a few years than the entire twenty or so since gambling was legalized. The old marinas and waterfront bars were wiped out, and fancy yacht basins were built in their place. Wayne gave up on keeping a fishing boat in the water ready to go. It simply cost too much for dockage and insurance to be worth it any more. He sold his Pro Line 25 Center Console and went back to mostly fishing the river with his bass boat. But even that kept him too close to the crowds for comfort during his precious time off. Deer hunting was the answer, and to extend the time he could hunt, Wayne took up bowhunting in order to take advantage of the special seasons when firearms weren’t allowed. Even that wasn’t enough to suit him, so shortly before the blackout changed everything; he’d taken to hunting turkey in the spring and wild hogs in the summer—anything to get him out in the woods as much as possible.
Over the years there had been countless weekend nights spent sitting around a fire at the deer camp with his buddies, usually with the wives and girlfriends left at home. They talked about the problems the country was facing that didn’t seem to have a solution, and they worried about the changes they could see coming. It seemed that people who grew up like they did were getting fewer and fewer, especially in other parts of the country where there were not nearly as many places to hunt and fish as in Mississippi. Young people weren’t interested in it much anyway, and the gun control and animal rights people were doing their best to steer them away. Wayne and the others could see the writing on the wall; the way of life they loved was threatened more than ever, and they realized they’d better start doing something about it before it was too late. They could see a time coming when it wouldn’t even be possible to purchase a shotgun or rifle, so they were determined to get what they needed so they could ensure that their sons would have the chance to hunt and learn to be at home in the outdoors just as they were.
When they started this, they soon realized there was a growing movement among other like-minded people scattered here and there, and it didn’t take long to find the information they needed on the Internet and in various books on prepping and long-term survival. Using checklists they found in these resources and coming up with their own from their personal experiences, Wayne and his friends began buying stuff to put into safe storage at the camp. When they first started this, their focus was mainly on guns and ammunition, because that’s what they were worried would be in short supply. The more they read and learned, however, the more they realized they needed to add other essential tools as well as food and other supplies to the stockpile as well.
Wayne’s experience with firearms was limited to hunting rifles and shotguns, along with a little time spent target shooting with pistols and revolvers. Having worked full time without a break since graduation, he had never served in the military, though he regretted not signing up before marrying the stupid woman that nearly ruined his life. But one of his best friends, Gary Haggard, did serve. As an Army Ranger, Gary saw some serious combat action in Afghanistan, hunting elusive targets that could and did shoot back. Gary’s perspective on weapons helped Wayne and his other friends round out their arsenal, and before long, they all felt well-equipped to last a long time even if every gun store in the country was suddenly shut down. Wayne was thankful they had completed this sooner than later, because as it turned out, the option to buy more of anything was turned off instantly. It was nothing like the slow loss of rights and changing of laws all of them expected. When the pulse hit, they suddenly found themselves in a world where the land and the things they had built and stored there were the best acquisitions they could have possibly owned, especially compared to almost everyone else.
Wayne had been at the camp when it happened, and didn’t even know about it for several days, since the cabin was set up off the grid anyway and he didn’t try to keep up with news or anything else from the outside world when he was there. He had his cell phone of course, but when he discovered it was dead, he just cursed the battery that was on its last leg anyway and figured that was the reason. He didn’t know about the vehicle situation either, even when he did get ready to leave to go back to Moss Point to get ready for his next hitch. His green-camo ’73 Dodge hunting truck started just fine, and it was not until he reached the highway that he figured out something was wrong. By the time he made it to the coast, the situation was really out of control. Tracy was nowhere to be found, and he had not seen her sinc
e. He had finally given up on looking for her and figured he would never see her again.
Until today, he hadn’t touched a woman since he’d kissed her goodbye that afternoon he’d left for what he thought was a three-day weekend. That had been the first week of spring turkey season, and now, if calendars and laws even mattered any more, it was getting about time for the main fall gun season for deer. Wayne still liked deer hunting as much as ever, but it was about all he did any more, and day after day, life was the same old same old. Finding this girl, April was going to give him a whole new outlook on things. Spending time with her was something to look forward to. It really was the most exciting thing that had happened to Wayne in a long time, and he could barely contain himself as he set out to the south, holding the leash in one hand, giving her a gentle tug to remind her to keep step behind him.
Twelve
EVERY STEP HE TOOK in the direction away from April and Kimberly wrenched at his heart as Mitch ducked and weaved though the undergrowth on his run back to where he’d left Jason waiting. Every second he was not watching he was aware that anything could happen to the two of them in the hands of those men, but he kept telling himself he was doing this the right way. He needed that rifle, and Jason needed to know what was going on. Mitch couldn’t remember facing a harder decision, but he’d made it and now what he had to do was move as quickly as possible to get Jason and get back to that sandbar so he could pick up the trail before they had time to go far. He didn’t see how they could move faster than he could track them, because their speed was going to be limited by April, and she was burdened with the weight and unwieldy way she was carrying Kimberly in her arms. The only thing that would change that was the possibility that the men would get tired of waiting on her and decide to get rid of the child. Mitch hoped they wouldn’t do that just yet, but he didn’t put anything past them and he knew that the sooner he got back the better. There was no stopping to look and listen any more as he retraced his route downstream along the creek bank. The threat was back there where he’d left it, and Jason was just ahead, hopefully watching and waiting for his return.
Mitch only slowed to a walk once he reached the bay thicket where Jason was hiding. He whispered loudly, calling his name, but to his surprise, got no answer, even on the third attempt. Getting impatient and a little upset that Jason was ignoring him, Mitch called again, still keeping his voice low, but still loud enough for anyone in the thicket to hear. Still nothing! What in the heck? Mitch withdrew the arrow he’d placed back in his quiver while running and nocked it to his bowstring. He called again and waited, listening. Jason still did not answer. This was crazy and he didn’t have time for it. Mitch made his way to the exact spot where he’d left Jason and saw that he was not there. Why he would have moved when he had explicit instructions to wait in that spot was beyond Mitch’s comprehension. Whatever the reason, Mitch was pissed. He examined the leaf litter on the forest floor and saw the disturbed clumps that indicated which way Jason had gone—farther downstream—in the exact opposite direction they needed to be going! Furious, Mitch bent low to study the ground and slowly worked his way along his friend’s trail. It was slow going with all the leaves, but he pieced it together and continued until he hit a spot of exposed sand and saw Jason’s bootprints, still leading away, farther downstream. Moving as fast as he could but also wary of some new surprise, he ended up covering a couple hundred yards of creek bank before he saw Jason standing next to a big beech tree. His back was to Mitch and he was unaware anyone was behind him. He seemed to be focused on something in the other direction as he stood there, holding the rifle up in a ready position across his chest, slowly stretching and craning his neck as if he were trying to see through the screen of the forest farther downstream.
Mitch stalked closer and cautiously called him by name in a loud whisper, wary of startling him and getting shot as a result. Jason was surprised when he turned around with the rifle at ready, but relaxed when he saw who it was.
“What are you doing?” Mitch demanded, still whispering.
“I heard somebody!” Jason whispered back.
“Not down that way,” Mitch said. “They’re upstream. I found them. I just came from there!”
“No!” I know there were voices upstream. But I heard voices down this way too! I know I did. They sounded far away, so I just wanted to get a little closer, to see if I could figure it out. But now they’ve stopped talking.”
Mitch looked closely at him and could see that Jason believed what he heard was real. It seemed an unlikely coincidence that there was anyone else out here in the same vicinity at the same time, but Mitch took a couple of minutes to carefully listen for himself after they both stopped talking, just to be sure. When he heard nothing, he grabbed Jason by the sleeve and pulled him close.
“Listen to me, Jason! We’ve got to go, and now! If there is somebody down there, it doesn’t matter!” Then he quickly filled him in on what was going on back at that sandbar, and how April and Kimberly were in grave danger. Telling Jason to stick close behind him and to be as quiet as possible, Mitch then set out to lead the way back. He kept his bow for now and let Jason carry the rifle until they got there. There was no point in switching, because Jason was not competent with a bow anyway and it would do him little good to carry it.
The extra distance they had to travel now because of Jason’s curiosity would give the men more time to get a good head start, but Mitch tried not to think about it as he moved. Jason had failed him in a way, by not staying put as he’d been instructed, but Mitch knew he was just trying to help. Even though he was positive what he’d heard was real, Mitch doubted it was really voices. The excitement of the morning’s tracking and the real voices they both had heard had obviously made an impression on his friend. Sitting there alone in the clump of bay trees, his mind had surely been playing tricks on him as he waited and listened, soaking in all the sounds of the forest that surrounded him. Mitch knew how the trickle and splash of moving water could create the illusion of voices. A fallen branch could get caught in an eddy or area of fast water, where it would be repeatedly dunked and lifted, making all sorts of gurgling and voice-like sounds that could be quite convincing. Mitch had heard it himself all too often, and he knew too that such sounds gave rise to most of superstitions of spirits and other unseen creatures that were a part of forest legends and myths everywhere.
Mitch no longer had any fear of the unknown in the wild, whether in daylight or the middle of a dark, moonless night. He knew that few people in modern America, or what had been modern America before the great blackout, were as comfortable and at ease alone in the woods as he. He could give his dad much of the credit for that, but even Doug Henley, as knowledgeable a woodsman as a man could be, still preferred coming home to a real house and sleeping indoors with his family. Mitch, however, shunned the artificial, manmade world, as often as possible even before and now he knew that with each passing month it would be harder than ever to go back to that kind of life when and if technology were restored. If not for his little sister and her friends, Mitch figured he would probably be ranging far and wide up and down Black Creek, living the life of a nomadic hunter and calling no particular place home. It was a long-held fantasy for him before—to experience a life like that—but even with the farm to go back to at night, his new reality was close enough to that dream that he didn’t feel he was missing much.
But none of that was on his mind now. What Mitch thought about as he led the way with Jason on his heels was how he was going to deal with these four men. He had no illusion that he could somehow rescue April without extreme and unhesitating violence, and that likely meant killing all four, preferably before they realized what was happening. It would be easier if it were April alone, but with Kimberly at risk too and April’s natural instincts as a mother to put her child’s life first, it was going to take carefully considered action to pull off a rescue. He simply couldn’t afford to screw this up. Saving April only to have something happen
to her child would be worse than doing nothing at all. Mitch knew it would destroy her, and he didn’t even want to go there in his mind.
The route Mitch took to get back to where he had watched what was taking place on the sandbar was as direct as possible. This meant he did not follow all the looping bends of Black Creek, because that would have taken much longer. Mitch didn’t give this a second thought until they closed in on the sandbar. Stopping to look and listen, motioning Jason to silence behind him, he determined that the men, along with April and Kimberly were indeed gone before he approached closer. Moving faster now, they pushed the rest of the way through until they came in view of the sandbar, and Mitch saw that David was still lying where he had been before, unmoving in the sand beside the smoldering campfire. But that was something he expected and was not the main thing that caught his attention. What really surprised him was that the aluminum canoe was gone! How that could be, he had no idea. He had seen them preparing to set out on foot, April tied by the neck with a rope held by the leader. And Mitch had waited long enough to watch them disappear into the forest. So who had taken the canoe? He couldn’t imagine that it had been anyone else, and he had seen before that it was high enough up on the sandbar and even secured to a bush, so he knew it could not have drifted away on its own.
The men couldn’t have changed their minds and decided to float downriver either, because there was no way they could all fit in it even without April and Kimberly. Mitch cursed his failure to stick to the creek bank on the way back to this place. If he had, he would have seen the canoe go by and would know the answer to this puzzle. He hadn’t expected this. It was another variable and he began to wonder if he’d made a huge mistake to ever let April and Kimberly out of his sight to begin with.
But mistake or not, what was done, was done, and there was no time to waste on regret. Leading Jason to a place he knew just downstream, where the creek was shallow enough to wade, Mitch made his way across to the opposite bank as fast as he could. He had to get to work deciphering all those tracks in the sand so he could figure out exactly what was going on. With no time to waste, he asked Jason to check and see if David was alive or dead, while he bent to the task before him.
Into the River Lands (Darkness After Series Book 2) Page 6