Into the River Lands (Darkness After Series Book 2)

by Williams, Scott B.

  Mitch bent over him once more to check his vital signs. His pulse was still strong and he was breathing as before. Chances were, he would come to sooner or later.

  “I’m on my way, Jason. Now get moving and get to the house and tell Lisa and the others I will be back as soon as possible, but don’t worry if it’s longer than you think it should be. I won’t be returning without April and that little girl!”

  With that, Mitch gave Jason a final handshake and then turned to wade back across Black Creek. He didn’t pause to wave or even look back when he reached the other side. He entered the woods and made his way directly to the last place he’d stopped when examining the tracks, and then set out in pursuit.

  When the trail led to the higher and drier ground on the true top bank, well above the stream’s high water line, actual footprints became almost non-existent. It was to be expected, but again, looking for the path of least resistance kept him on track. By simply going the way he knew most people would pick, he could occasionally see where feet had shuffled through the leaf litter and small forest floor plants were crushed or bent. Just as they were before they came here and took April captive, the four men were traveling without concern of being followed. Mitch knew they probably thought they were so deep in the woods that they had nothing to worry about. Little did they know that they were being hunted by a predator they could not escape, and that their vicious actions had guaranteed they would receive no mercy when he found them.

  Fifteen

  GARY HAGGARD LED THE way downstream, doing his best to stick reasonably close to the creek, but frequently having to take a wide detour around thickets and areas of dense briars and other undergrowth. These forestlands along this stretch of Black Creek were not like this before Hurricane Katrina devastated them when it swept through Mississippi in 2005. Gary knew this, because it had been one of his favorite places to deer hunt before he went to Afghanistan in 2003. Back then, most of the stream bank here was shaded in mature forests of tall pines and mixed hardwoods, the canopy shutting out most of the light and allowing little undergrowth. It had been a beautiful place; one of the few areas of such extensive old-growth forest left in the state, and walking and hunting in it had been a pleasure.

  But one-hundred-mile-an-hour plus winds had wreaked havoc on a lot of it, blowing down many of the tallest trees and breaking the tops off many more. The holes and gaps created by this destruction opened up the ground to sunlight in the same way logging operations did in the cutover woods found practically everywhere else in the state. Rampant vegetation grew where once there had only been shade with moss and ferns. Blackberry briars, privet hedge and bushes and small seedlings of every species shot up in the openings and grew into tangles and thickets, each species trying to choke out the others. It made walking in a straight line just about impossible, and traveling through such damaged forestland on foot was a march through hell. The only thing that helped was a sharp machete to cut a path through the worst of it.

  Gary was used to it, of course. Just like Wayne and the others, he literally lived in the woods these days and spent most of his time hunting or bushwhacking when they weren’t in the cabin at the camp. But this had been the longest expedition they’d undertaken since moving permanently to the hunting club land after the blackout, and he was ready to get back to familiar turf and take a break. This trip was essentially the same as the long-range recon missions he’d done so many of over there, just different terrain and a different purpose. And though in those missions he knew going in that he was going to get shot at if seen, it was about the same here. The only difference was they had not been seen so far.

  There had been more than a few run-ins on the hunting camp property though. The problem there was that even though it was in the middle of a huge expanse of woods, it was still too damned close to the coast. That’s why they were here in the first place—scouting upriver—looking to the future to try and figure out what they were going to do in the longer term. When everything hit the fan in the beginning, it didn’t seem likely the situation would last as long as it did or get as bad as it had. Now, it didn’t seem likely things would ever go back to the way they were before. It wouldn’t be smart to just sit back and not consider all the options and conduct some advance planning.

  It was too bad these woods were no longer the forest paradise Gary remembered. It would have been the perfect place to relocate. He knew they still might have to do it anyway. Travel by canoe or small boat was still easy enough, even if walking was not. And the game was still plentiful here; this trip had confirmed that. They had seen little sign of other human presence, other than the chance discovery of that unlucky family camped on the sandbar. Gary couldn’t believe someone as pathetic as that guy had survived long enough to get this far. Only in the world back then, before the big change could guys like him live long enough to mate, especially with a girl like that one.

  Gary still smiled to himself when he replayed in his mind the image of her busting Wayne’s nose and putting him on his ass in the sand. She was one tough little chick! She had put his buddy in quite a spot, and Gary knew how he felt. He knew Wayne was trying to prove something now, but he figured it wouldn’t last. He just wanted to tame that little tigress on his own terms to save face, but it wasn’t really like him to be selfish. They had been through a lot together and Gary already owed him favors. As far as he was concerned, no woman was worth fighting a good friend over. But taking out her sorry excuse for a husband? Gary had no qualms about that. The way he saw it, he was doing her a favor. Gary had little sympathy for anyone outside their small band of survivors these days. He’d seen plenty of innocent people die horrible deaths long before this event put his own country into a state of anarchy. A soldier learned to harden himself to such things early on if he wanted to do his job. The lives that really mattered were those of the other men in his unit. Now, for all practical purposes, everyone else was the enemy.

  He wasn’t crazy about the idea of splitting up the group and Wayne being out there alone with the woman and kid in the canoe. He thought Wayne was being a little stupid for taking such a risk to get her back to the camp, but it wasn’t worth a huge argument either. Maybe he was right. Maybe a woman like her would be an asset later on if they kept her alive. She would have to adapt if she wanted to live, especially if she wanted them to let her keep the kid. Gary figured it didn’t much matter to him one way or another, as long as he didn’t have to feed her. Wayne would either find the burden worth it or he wouldn’t, and he would do something about it then.

  Jared and Paul were sure unhappy about Wayne keeping her to himself, but Gary had finally had enough and told them to shut up and forget it. They all had a long trek ahead of them, and he was tired of hearing it. Besides, just because they hadn’t seen anybody else in these woods, that didn’t mean there were no dangers. It was best to travel in silence, just as if they were expecting an ambush at any moment.

  Gary kept his custom Bulgarian AK at the ready in it’s two-point tactical sling in front of his chest, and he kept his cutting with the machete to the bare minimum, picking a way around, instead of through, the worst of the thickets. When he did have to use the blade, to clear a briar vine or branch, he sliced through it at an angle with an upward stroke. Kept shaving sharp at all times, the 22-inch Collins would part most of them in a single pass this way. Gary had long ago learned that such an upward slash cut the cleanest and with the least blade ring or whack upon impact.

  Machete or not, it was completely impractical to follow the creek bend-for-bend, so even though they were walking at roughly the same speed as Wayne would be paddling, they could not keep up with him or stay anywhere near visual or audible contact range. That just simply didn’t work in this kind of woodland. The best they could do was agree to rendezvous at recognizable landmarks, which were few and far between on a creek that looked mostly the same for mile after winding mile.

  The first such spot where they planned to meet for the night was at a sand
bar on the same side they were walking, just downstream from the next bridge crossing. This crossing was a county road that likely had little traffic even before the blackout, and there had been nothing in the area before other than a remote Forest Service campground on the creek bank nearby. Finding it would be easy whether they were near the creek or not, because they would have to cross the road at some point and paralleling it from the other side back to the creek would take them right there. Once they met up with Wayne again and made sure everything was going okay with him in the canoe, they could decide on the next rendezvous, probably at the state highway bridge that was another ten miles downstream beyond that one.

  It would be a bit of a pain to arrange all these checkpoints, but by doing so, they would all arrive back at the land at roughly the same time. And if Wayne did run into trouble out there on the creek, chances were they’d be close enough by to help him out of a bind before it was too late. Gary knew there was no other option than the canoe if they were going to take the girl and her kid that far. Even if she hadn’t screwed up her ankle, she might not be able to make it carrying such a burden. They were looking at a solid three-day trek, maybe four if there were any more delays. It was a good thing for her that the canoe was available, and that Wayne had plans for her that extended beyond what he could have done right then and there.

  And so it was that Gary Haggard focused all his attention on the way forward, despite all his training and experience that should have kept his mind and senses open to other considerations. His thoughts were completely occupied with keeping his eyes and ears open for danger lurking in the woods ahead, as well as working out the route through all of these obstacles. His immediate goal was reaching that first check-in point before dark, and knowing Jared and Paul were close behind him, where they were supposed to be, he had little reason to concern himself with his back trail. He knew they would eventually return to this more remote area of the creek, maybe even permanently, but for now he was looking forward to getting back to the relative comfort of the cabin and their familiar land. Just like during the war over there, it was always a relief when a patrol was over, and this one seemed over already now that they were on the return leg to home turf. He had little reason to expect anything else would happen that would be half as exciting as this morning’s encounter on the sandbar.

  Sixteen

  WAYNE PARKER STEERED THE canoe for the bank and ran the bow up on a narrow strip of sand in the shade of a big cypress tree. He couldn’t stand it another minute. The little girl had started up crying again and nothing would stop her. April kept trying to sooth her with reassuring words, all the while begging him to pull over and let her give her child something to eat. Wayne didn’t see any way around it. They were making way too much noise and his threats to get them to shut up weren’t doing a damned bit of good.

  “She’s hungry and she’s scared to death! Any child would be scared in this situation, even you should know that! She’s never going to stop crying unless I can hold her in my arms and touch her. I can’t do that with my hands tied. She can do this for hours. Days even! Believe me, I’m her mother. I should know!”

  “Fine then! But if you don’t get her quiet, we’ll be leaving her behind. So whatever you’re going to do, you’d better make it work, and fast!”

  Wayne stepped out of the canoe and opened the Spyderco folder April had pulled on him in their scuffle. The blade was honed to a razor’s edge and it went through the multiple wraps of three-eight’s inch nylon rope around April’s wrists like they weren’t even there. It didn’t bother Wayne to cut them, because it was just cheap line anyway, part of the bow painter supplied with the rental canoe, many more feet of which was coiled and lying on the bottom of the boat. He didn’t want to be fumbling with untying knots, especially now that he was handling his captive alone. He’d already seen what she was capable of, and figured having the knife open and ready and in his hand would give her pause. It wasn’t worth taking any chances and he didn’t really want to have to seriously hurt either her or the kid. Before he freed her he made that point clear too, warning her that Kimberly would be the one to pay if she tried anything stupid. He didn’t think she would take that risk, and he was right. He opened one of the MREs from his pack and gave it to April. The little girl was obviously hungry from the way she gobbled up the portion of peanut butter inside.

  When they shoved off again, April was sitting in the bottom of the boat, facing him, her back against the thwart of the bow seat, the rope about her neck tied to it with just enough slack to allow her to sit upright and breathe easy. Although her hands were free, he felt she was still pretty secure. Being tied to the boat by the neck was a good deterrent to prevent her from doing something stupid, like causing him to dump it while they were moving. She wouldn’t have a chance to save herself and Kimberly at the same time, and she had to realize that. Untied or not, her hands were occupied anyway, because in this position she could hold Kimberly close, and finally, the squalling kid had settled down and shut her mouth.

  Wayne knew that the child was all that mattered to this woman. He knew she hated the fact that she was stuck in that position facing him, and that he was staring at her all the while as he steered and paddled, but as long as she had that little girl in her arms, she would endure anything. She was good mother, as well as a fighter and a survivor. She had exactly the traits Wayne felt a woman should have to live in this harsh new reality. The more he looked at her, the more he came to realize that she was just about perfect for him. Now that the screaming kid was quiet, he could finally talk to her. The way he figured it, three or four days of floating down the river would give him a good start on getting to know her.

  “So April, how old is Kimberly, exactly?”

  She said nothing, nor did she look up at him. She had not looked up at him once since they had started back downriver with her in this new seating arrangement.

  “I know you don’t want to talk to me, but you will. I want to know everything about you. I want to hear your story, where you’re from, where you were when the solar flares hit…. I want to know what you did that day and how you survived this long since. And what I really want to know is why you ended up out here in this canoe. Where were you two going and what did you expect to find out here? How did you expect to take care of your baby way out here in these woods alone, and with a husband who couldn’t even hunt, let alone defend you?”

  April still ignored him.

  “Did you not know Black Creek runs for more than a hundred miles through pretty much nothing but national forest land and other remote country? Or did you even know the name of the creek you were on? Were you hoping going downriver would take you someplace better? You had to know that reaching the coast wouldn’t do you much good. That’s where I’m from, and let me tell you; it’s the last place you want to be right now.”

  “We weren’t going to the coast,” April said, finally breaking the silence but not looking up at him as she spoke. “We were looking for my friend, and believe me, we would be safe with him if we had found him.”

  “Out here? On the creek? Just where does this friend of yours live? We haven’t seen much sign of life out here in more than a week.”

  “He’s here, and not far either. You’re lucky you didn’t see him, because he wouldn’t like the fact that you’re here, trespassing and hunting on his family land.”

  “His family land? This is national forest land. Public land, as if it even mattered now anyway.”

  “Not all of it. You just think it is because you’ve been following the creek. No one could find his land though if they didn’t know where to look, but he keeps an eye on who’s coming and going along this creek.”

  “Well, I don’t see him now, do you? Where was he this morning when we found you on that sandbar? I think your imaginary friend may have overslept just like your husband, do you suppose?”

  “Screw you! I don’t even want to be reminded about what you did to David! If it wasn’t for my c
hild, you would have had to leave me there dead too before I would have gotten in this boat with you!”

  “But you do have your child, April. And if you want to keep it that way, you’ll just sit there and not rock the boat.”

  Wayne knew she would comply. It seemed to him that she was not as upset about the way they had left her husband as she should be. He wondered if the man lying back there in the sand really was her husband or if she had just made that up. It didn’t really matter to him one way or the other. He knew it could be too, just that she had simply seen so much death and suffering since the lights went out that she was numb to it by now. If that was it, she was not alone, that was for sure.

  Wayne had long reached that point, in fact, he’d reached it by the end of the first week when he’d finally made his way back down to the coast only to find Tracy missing. Not knowing where she had gone or what had happened to her was one thing, but then he had gone to his boyhood home in Moss Point and found his parents dead, murdered in their living room, apparently from repeated blows with a blunt object. All because somebody thought they needed the perfectly running 1968 Ford pickup parked in the carport more than his 74-year-old father did. Wayne spent most of a day digging their graves with a shovel in the backyard, and then he had set out to return to the woods. There were run-ins with desperate types who were far less prepared than he and his friends at the hunting camp, and Wayne showed no mercy as he dealt with them as ruthlessly as they no doubt had done with their victims. Killing people came easy to him now, easier than killing game really. The deer and other animals he took for food were just unlucky to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and taking their lives was just a simple necessity of survival. Killing looters and gang members was different. It seemed most people he met these days needed killing for one reason or another. The man with April, whether he was really her husband or not, had not really done anything wrong, at least that Wayne knew of. But he was stupid; stupid and incompetent and simply a victim of natural selection in a world where the stupid and the weak were getting scarcer by the day.