by A. American
By now, Teague was laughing. “Oh yeah. I grabbed it. Be glad that’s all I grabbed.”
Daniel shoved him out the door and slammed it shut. Christy shook her head. “What the hell is wrong with him?”
Daniel gave a slight chuckle. “That’s nothing. You should have seen us when we were younger.”
After dressing and grabbing a bag with the little they were taking with them, Christy and Daniel went out to the kitchen. Gene was at the stove cooking up some eggs, sausage and bacon. In the oven was a pan of biscuits.
“Wow, it smells awesome in here!” Christy said.
Bob snuffed out a cigarette on a plate on the table. Christy wrinkled her nose at it. “I figured we should eat as much of what I have as we possibly can before we go.”
Gene looked over his shoulder. “Have a seat. It will be ready soon.”
The coffee pot, now on its second brew, sat on the table. Both Christy and Daniel poured themselves a cup and waited on the food. Daniel looked across the table at Teague.
“Don’t’ do that shit again.”
With mock indignation, Teague asked, “Whatever are you talking about?”
Holding his cup to his mouth, Daniel replied, “Whatever. Don’t do it again.”
Teague laughed and looked at Christy. She glared back. Being not a complete fool, Teague kept his mouth shut. It wasn’t long before Gene was setting plates on the table mounded with bacon, sausage and scrambled eggs.
Christy scooped up a spoon of the eggs and dumped them on her plate. “Gene, how did you get these so fluffy? I’ve never seen eggs like this before.”
The ends of Gene’s mustache rose up. “Learned to cook in the Navy. If there is one thing the Navy does right, it’s cook.”
There was little talk as they ate, each left to their own thoughts on the trip they were about to embark upon. When everyone was done, Christy rose to her feet and said she’d do the dishes.
Bob waved her off. “Leave them.” He looked around the kitchen. “I have a feeling I’ll never see this place again.”
Christy looked at him for a moment as she thought it over. Sitting back down and picking up the last piece of bacon on the plate, she said, “I guess you’re right. We’re either going to make it to Texas, or we’re not. But either way, we’re probably not coming back here.”
It was time to leave. There was nothing left to do. But the small group milled about the house, looking for any reason, real or imagined, not to leave. Except for Gene. He paced the driveway, checking his watch often. After nearly forty-five minutes, Gene started the van and walked back into the house.
Opening the door, he shouted. “The van’s running! Let’s go!”
Daniel and Christy shouldered their small packs and headed for the van. Bob waited for Teague to leave and made one last round through his house. He wasn’t a sentimental man by any means, but he did feel a slight tug at the thought of leaving and never coming back to it. It was home. He’d had others, but this was the place he had decided to spend the rest of his life. It was a physical manifestation of his life’s work. It represented everything he’d achieved, despite the efforts of two ex-wives.
The generator still hummed away outside, providing all important power that brought life to home. Bob didn’t bother to turn off lights as he left, leaving everything as it was. Opening the door of the van, he took one last look before getting in.
“You alright?” Christy asked.
Slamming the door shut, Bob replied. “Yep. Let’s go to Texas.”
Daniel pulled out the drive and headed down the road. Where North Cut Lane hit the Palmetto Highway, Bob’s neighbor was there once again. He and another man were keeping an eye on the intersection, as they put it. Daniel rolled up beside Dale and stopped.
Bob stuck his hand out the gun port. “Been good knowing you, Dale.”
Dale shook it and asked, “Where you headed?”
“Texas.”
With a look of surprise, Dale asked, “What in the hell for?”
“Things sound a little better over there, so we’re going.”
“Good luck with that. I think you are nuttier’an squirrel shit though.”
Bob smiled and handed Dale a key. “Here’s the key to my place. It’s open right now. Help yourself to anything there. I don’t plan on coming back. The generator is still running right now. Don’t know how long it will hold out though.”
Dale looked at the key. “I appreciate it, really do. We’ll take care of your place for you. It’ll be here for you.”
Bob smiled. “One way or another, I’m not coming back here.”
Dale stuck his hand in the window and smiled. “Well, I hope y’all make it to Texas.”
Bob shook his hand and smiled back. “Me too, Dale. Me too.”
Bob looked at Daniel and nodded, and he pulled out onto Hwy 70 and headed south, and then turning off onto Hwy 154 that melded into Hwy 29. It was smooth sailing until they reached the small town of Palmetto. As they approached Main Street, the road was blocked by several large trucks and armed men. Daniel looked at Bob. “What do we do?”
“Just slow down and do whatever they say.” Bob then swiveled in his seat and pointed at Teague. “And you better keep your shit together. No shooting. Got it?”
Teague nodded. “Got it.”
As they approached the barricade, a large man in camouflage stepped out. He was cradling an AR-type rifle in the crook of one arm and holding the other up in a stop gesture. Daniel slowed to a stop and the man approached the van. Others, behind the barricade kept rifle barrels trained on them.
In a thick southern drawl, the man asked, “What’s yer business?” He was wearing a hunting pattern, and had what could only be a very large wad of chewing tobacco stretching his right cheek.
Bob leaned forward. Pointing, he replied. “We’re just headed south on Roosevelt.”
“Where to?” The man asked.
Bob shrugged. “Does it really matter? We’re not looking to stop here. We just need to get by.”
The man swapped the tobacco to the other side of his mouth as he leaned forward and looked into the van. He then inspected the modifications Gene had made and asked, “What’s all this about?”
“We were in Atlanta. It was hell there. We did this so we could get out.”
The man nodded. “I damn sure wouldn’t want to be in Atlanta right now. We’ve heard there’s all kinds of craziness going on there.”
Bob huffed. “You have no idea, friend.”
The man produced a small radio from a pocket. One of those FRMS types you get at Wal-Mart. Keying it, he said, “Let ‘em through. Billy, you got a big van coming your way.”
Ten four. Came the reply.
The man stepped back. “Y’all go on. Just don’t stop nowhere.”
Daniel nodded. “Thanks. We won’t.”
Bob waved, and the man nodded back at him as Daniel pulled forward and made the right onto Main Street. The men at the roadblock eyed them as they passed. Looking to their left, they saw several people milling about the Bojangles’ and Subway shops. But it was obvious that the power was off in the whole town.
They passed a few people on the way out of town. They seemed to congregate in the business areas, where fast food joints and other such enterprises were located. People would stop in their tracks or pause their conversations to watch the van go by, not that a moving car was an anomaly. They passed several. Maybe it was just the look of thing.
Just past Tommy Lee Cook Road, Bob told Daniel to slow down. The power line right-of-way was just ahead and Daniel pulled off the paved road onto the dirt two track that ran through it. It was obviously well used by the locals.
Holding onto the oh shit handle on the passenger side as the van bounced down the
dirt road, Bob said, “This thing is thirteen miles long.”
Daniel nodded as he focused on the road ahead. The route was intersected by other roads crossing it. The occasional ditch required them to slow and cross it. As they passed a small pond, two young boys there fishing waved at them. Coming to an area that was an obvious track for off roaders, they saw several motorbikes and four wheelers racing around the track.
Bob shook his head. “Wasting gas. They’ll regret that soon enough.”
Christy leaned forward to see. “Looks like fun.”
Further down the road, Bob laughed and pointed. “Check that shit out!”
Daniel looked over to see a decent-sized airplane sitting on the right-of-way. “How in the hell did they get that thing in here?”
Bob looked up at the power lines. “I have no idea. Must be one hell of a pilot.”
Slowly creeping over a section of the route that appeared to be terraced, possibly for planting, Bob pointed to the right side. “See that little road?” Daniel nodded. “We have to get off here. There’s a little creek up ahead that we can’t cross in this.”
Daniel took the small road and followed Bob’s directions as he guided them through the small back roads, eventually bringing them back onto the track under the power lines. For the short leg to highway sixteen. It was clear sailing to the highway just ahead.
“Bob? Bob, do you see them?” Daniel asked in a shaky voice.
Christy immediately poked her head between the front seats. “What? What is it?”
Bob started bringing his rifle up with one hand and palmed Christy’s face with the other, pushing her back. “If you want to help, you better get a gun. Just keep going, Daniel.” As he brought his carbine to his shoulder, he shouted. “Teague, you have permission to shoot anyone who comes up behind us.”
“Copy!” Teague shouted as he poked his carbine through the rear window of the van.
Gene picked up the shotgun and racked a shell into it. Casually looking up, he asked, “What seems to be the trouble, Bob?”
“Bunch of guys on ATVs, Gene. And they’ve all got guns.”
Ahead of them was nearly a dozen or so men hanging out around a large bon fire. They were sitting on their machines drinking beer from the looks of it. All of them, even the motorcycles had either a rack or a scabbard to hold a long gun. While this wasn’t anything unusual in the rural south, the fact they were all wearing a balaclava type mask with a skull print on it was. Just as those in the city that were bent on violence, a mask is the calling card of men with ill intentions.
The group suddenly noticed the van and immediately sprang to their machines. Gene picked up a carbine and tapped Christy on the shoulder. “You know how to use this?” He asked. She shook her head, indicating she didn’t. He laid the rifle on the floor and pulled a Glock 17 pistol from the duffle bag that all of Bob’s guns had been piled into. “Know how to use this?”
Christy nodded affirmatively and snatched the pistol from him. “Yes, I do.” She dropped the mag from the weapon. Seeing it was loaded, she quickly reinserted it and racked the slide. She looked at Gene and replied. “Daniel taught me.”
Gene nodded and had to grab onto the table to steady himself. “This ain’t no game, Christy. You may have to use it. If you do, make it count.” Christy nodded.
“Speed up,” Bob said. Then he added, “Don’t stop for anything.”
The ATVs quickly split into three groups. One ran down the side of the right-of-way as though they were getting the hell out of Dodge. The other two headed straight for them. Two of the four-wheelers had two men onboard. The rear passengers stood up and raised shotguns. There was a thunderous explosion in the van as the windshield shattered and glass flew around the interior.
It was only the first shot from Bob’s rifle, the first of many. The van was bouncing, as were the ATVs. The shots had the desired effect of causing the machines to take evasive actions. They were quickly closing on the road. Pavement would be their ally. Allowing the big diesel engine to put all that horsepower to work.
“Which way, Bob?” Daniel shouted.
“Right!” Bob shouted, pausing his firing just long enough to answer.
The carbine firing in the van was deafening. The thunderous explosions inside the enclosed cab were tremendous. But it got even louder when Teague began to fire from the back. Gene looked back to see the machines that at first appeared to be fleeing now coming up behind them. He stuck a finger in his ear and shook his head.
Digging into his bulging shirt pocket, he pulled out a set of foam earplugs on a plastic cord. Rolling them between his fingers, he stuffed them into his ears. As the foam expanded and sealed out the incredible racket around him, he smiled. He was ready now.
Pulling the box out from under the seat, he took one of the glass jars out. Using his pocket knife, he stabbed a hole into the top and stuffed a piece of a t-shirt he’d cut into strips and put with the jars. He repeated the process two more times. With the three jars in hand, he tapped Christy and motioned for her to move. She pressed herself to the side of the van and he scooted past her.
Teague was still shooting, but the machines pursuing them had split up and were now shooting back. Once he was beside Teague, he told him what he wanted to do. Teague looked at him like he was insane. “What?”
“Just grab the rope handle.” He replied, pointing to the loop of rope he’d attached beside each of the rear doors.
Teague grabbed the rope and looked at Gene. “You sure you can hit it?”
Teague smiled and sprayed the cloth with a can of bar-b-que lighter fluid. “You just throw it!” With that, he handed one of the jars to Teague. Then he flipped open a Zippo lighter and lit the cloth. The size of the flame scared Teague as he tried to keep it away from him.
Gene sat on the floor of van and pressed against the wall to the side of the left door. He reached up and threw both doors open. A four-wheeler was rushing towards them since Teague had stopped firing. When the door came open, Teague immediately hurled the jar out the door like a baseball. Gene already had shouldered the 870 and brought the front bead up and pulled the trigger.
Teague’s throw was almost directly at the machine racing up to them not thirty feet away. When Gene fired, not only did the shot shatter the jar and send the flaming napalm all over the riders, it killed the driver. The ATV cartwheeled wildly throwing both men off like flaming missiles. While the driver was killed, his passenger was not. Teague watched, transfixed as the man hit the ground tumbling in a flaming ball. He got to his feet and pawed at the flames.
Seeing their comrades die such a terrible death only enraged the others, and they raced even faster towards the van as it skidded onto the paved road. Daniel swerved wildly to avoid two cars sitting in the traffic lanes. And while he missed them, he couldn’t avoid the body of a naked woman and bounced over her. If Teague hadn’t been holding onto the rope handle, he would have launched from the van. As it was, Gene had to help pull him back inside as incoming rounds pinged off the thin metal body.
A rider on a motorcycle came racing up alongside. He had some kind of cheap Tec 9-looking pistol he was firing wildly. As he came up beside them, Daniel saw him in the mirror and swerved into him. With only one hand on the handlebars, he wasn’t able to avoid the collision and suddenly found himself pressed against the side of the van, dropping his weapon. Christy was looking out the side window when the black mask with the skull suddenly banged into the expanded metal. The man’s eyes were wide and wild. She raised the Glock and began to fire, sending not only bullets, but broken glass and shards of metal from the protective screen into the side of his head. He and the bike crashed into the pavement, the bike ending up on top of him as he skidded down the asphalt.
Now that they were on the paved road, the ride became smoother. Teague went back to work with his car
bine and managed to knock down another rider. Gene lit the other two jars and threw them out the back door. They shattered on the road in a thick cloud of black smoke. An ATV trailing them ran through it, leaving a rolling vortex in the smoke. But the rider didn’t know it wasn’t just gas. This stuff stuck.
The machine came out the other side of the burning mess with all four wheels on fire. He looked down at the wheels to see only flaming masses as globs of it flew up and onto him. He skidded to a stop and bailed off the machine, ripping his clothes off. But the rest of the group had had enough. They stopped to aid him, although they kept firing at the van as the fire engulfed the machine.
Gene leaned out and pulled the rear door shut. Bob was turned in his seat, looking back and shouting. “Is everyone alright? Is anyone hurt?”
Christy was stunned. She sat still, looking out the window, one arm braced against the door. Gene and Teague both answered with a thumbs up. Bob grabbed Christy’s shoulder and shook her. “Are you ok? Are you alright?”
She looked at him and nodded. Then she saw blood on his hand. She stared at it for a moment before coming to her senses. “Bob! You’re bleeding!”
Daniel looked over. “What?”
Bob looked at his hand. “It’s my leg. I need something, a rag or something.”
Christy looked around trying to find something. Then she snatched up her purse and dumped it on the floor of the van. She was looking for that pad she knew was in there somewhere. Grabbing the Kotex pad, she tore it from the wrapper and handed it to Bob. “Put this on it! Where is it? Is it bleeding a lot?”
Bob took the pad and looked down. He didn’t like what he saw. His lap was very bloody, but it didn’t hurt that bad. And thankfully the pain was in his legs and not in his crotch. He took the pad and pressed it onto his thigh. Daniel slowed, saying. “We need to stop!”
Bob shook his head and pointed out the shattered windshield. “No, drive! Keep going!”