by A. American
Teague had his carbine lying across his lap. He leaned it against the chair as he reached out to toss another piece of wood on the fire. Just as it landed in the flames, sending up a shower of embers, a voice broke the silence.
“You keep them hands out there where we can see ‘em.” Teague looked up as two men walked out of the blackness that closed in from all sides around the small fire. Both were armed with shotguns, leveled right at him.
Gene looked up from the radio, then glanced at the 870 leaning against the table. “Don’t even think about it,” one of the men said.
Daniel woke up in confusion for a moment, until his head cleared and he comprehended what was going on. Christy’s eyes darted back and forth between the men and Daniel. He looked at her and she could tell not only was he scared, he didn’t know what to do.
Bob had a cigarette in his hand and continued to smoke it. The two men moved in closer. One of them had a large key ring hanging from his hip that jingled as he walked. Teague went to sit back, but one of the men shouldered his shotgun and shouted for him to stay just as he was. Leaning forward over the carbine, there was no way he could bring it up before they shot him. Feeling they had the situation under control, one of them flipped his weapon up onto his shoulder and began to strut around the group, the keys playing their song as he did.
“Well now. What do we have here? Trespassers, that’s what we’ve got. Y’all are trespassing.”
Calmly, Bob replied. “We didn’t mean to. We just needed to be off the road by the curfew so…” the man cut him off. Spinning towards Bob, he pointed an accusatory finger at him.
“Ignorance is no excuse! It’s no excuse for the law, and it’s no excuse to me.”
“We didn’t mean any harm. We haven’t harmed your land in any way.” Bob replied.
“So you say!” The man shouted. He kicked dirt at the fire. “You’ve dug a hole, and you’re burning my wood!”
“Looks like they’ve done harm to me, Tony,” the other man added.
Tony looked at his partner. “I think you’re right, Jeff.” He looked around at the group. “The question is, what do we do with them?”
“I can think of a few things,” Jeff replied. Then he looked at Christy and smiled.
Tony smiled back. “I guess some of them do have a use. But the rest of em, I just don’t know.”
“We meant no harm. We’re leaving first thing in the morning. We can offer you some cash if you feel we’ve caused you damage,” Bob said.
Tony spun around to face Bob again. “You ain’t going nowhere!” He walked around the fire to Christy. Standing in front of her, he rubbed his chin. “Stand up. Let’s have a look at you.”
She trembled and looked at Daniel. “Don’t look at him.” Tony spat. “He ain’t going to help you.” Then, with a sinister change in tone, he demanded. “Now get your ass up!”
The shot was slightly muffled. The little felt blanket dampened the report of the Glock as it puffed up and blew shreds of the material into the air. The bullet caught Tony just to the left of his sternum and toppled him backwards, into the fire. Hearing the shot, Teague launched himself from his chair, crashing into Jeff, who was caught off guard by the shot. But he recovered quickly and was putting up a solid fight.
Gene rose to his feet, casually picking up the 870 as he did. The man Christy shot was rolling out of the fire. As Gene passed him he lowered the barrel of the shotgun to near pointblank range and, without stopping, fired a shot into the smoking man. He racked the shotgun as he walked to where Teague and Jeff were fighting for control of Jeff’s shotgun.
The two men were tied up pretty tight and Gene couldn’t get a clear shot without possibly hitting Teague. He stepped back as Teague mounted the man. He had the shotgun pushed down on the guy’s chest, but couldn’t get control of it from the stronger man. Gene side-stepped, lowered the barrel again and fired another shot. This one took Jeff’s right foot off.
Jeff screeched in pain as he released his grip on the gun. Teague quickly pulled it away, sat up and pointed the muzzle at his face and pulled the trigger. The shot left a smoking crater in Jeff’s face. Then it was again silent. Christy jumped up from her chair, Glock still in her hand. Her free hand was on her head as she paced back and forth saying. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.”
Daniel jumped up and grabbed her. She turned to him and started to cry. Gene racked his 870 again and replaced the two spent shells in the tube with fresh ones from the side saddle shell holder as he walked back to his chair. Leaning the shotgun up against the table again, he sat back down.
Bob was still in his chair, cigarette in hand. He hadn’t moved. Looking at Gene, he said, “Well, damn.” Gene looked back and shrugged before turning his attention to the radio.
“Didn’t see that coming,” Bob said.
“What?” Daniel asked.
Bob waved a hand out over the scene before him. “Any of it.”
Teague searched the two bodies and collected their firearms. The two shotguns, a Buck sheath knife and a pocket knife were the sum of his search. He put the items into the van before returning to the fire where he looked down at the two bodies. “Daniel, help me drag these two pieces of shit out of here.”
Daniel looked at Christy. “You alright?”
She wiped her cheeks and nodded. “Yeah.”
He walked her over to her chair. “Just sit down for a minute. I’ll be right back.”
Teague grabbed Jeff by the hands. With a nod, he said, “Grab his feet.” Daniel looked down at the mangled right leg. Teague followed his gaze and chuckled. “Or foot.”
Daniel grabbed both pant legs and they lifted the body, half dragging it away from the camp. They didn’t carry it far before dumping it in the brush. They returned and did the same with Tony. The smell of singed hair and burnt clothing stung Daniel’s nose. He tried to hold his breath as they deposited Tony beside his friend. He stood there for a moment looking at the two men. Thankfully, Jeff’s head was turned to the side, so he didn’t have to look into the crater in his face.
He wondered what made these men do this, why they would even attempt such an act, and more importantly, just what they were planning. He paused there for a moment before turning away. With the unsavory task done, Daniel went back to Christy.
She was sitting in the chair with her hands between her knees, the Glock still in her grasp. Daniel knelt down and looked at her. “You ok, babe?”
She didn’t reply, just nodded her head. He lifted her chin up to look in her eyes. “You did good. Who knows what those guys would have done. They had us.” With a slight nod of his head, he added, “But you acted at exactly the right moment. I had no idea you had this in you.”
She rubbed her nose. “I don’t have it in me. I was scared shitless. I just shot. I didn’t even think I’d hit him, let alone kill him.”
Bob’s Zippo snapped open for a second, then closed. Christy looked up as he took a drag on the cigarette, then offered it to her. She shook her head but he insisted. “You need it. Don’t need to smoke the whole thing. Just take a drag. It’ll calm your nerves.”
She hesitated for a moment, then accepted it and took a hesitant puff. Blowing the smoke out, she took a longer drag, then handed it back to Bob. “Thanks.”
Bob smiled as he took it. “Like a pro. Thought you didn’t smoke.”
She half smiled. “Cigarettes. Everyone smokes something in college.”
“That’s my girl!” Teague said.
She ignored him and looked at Daniel. “That’s two people. I’ve killed two people.”
Daniel ran his hands back and forth on her legs. “It’s a different time now. You’ve defended yourself. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“How far are we from Texas?”
Bob blew out a cloud of smoke. �
�Depends. We could be there tomorrow if we pushed all day and didn’t have any trouble.”
Christy looked back down at the ground. “So a couple of days then.”
“Probably,” Bob replied.
“But we’ll get there,” Daniel said. Looking around, he asked, “You want to go to bed?”
Christy shook her head. “No. Can we build the fire up?”
“Sure,” Daniel said as he got up to add some wood to it.
Teague was tapping his foot and looking at Gene. After a moment, he said, “Gene, you don’t look like the kind of guy that did shooting and looting in the Navy.”
Gene looked up. “What does that look like?”
Teague shrugged. “Hell if I know. But you’re a badass in my book.”
Bob snorted. “Gene’s not a guy you want to cross. He’s, how should I say it, devious.”
Gene smiled. “Thanks, Bob,” and he turned his attention back to the radio.
Bob motioned with his chin. “You getting anything out of that box?”
His attention still on the radio, he replied, “Some. Sounds like we’re not the only ones with the idea to head to Texas.”
“You hear other people talking about it?” Teague asked.
Gene nodded. “Uh huh. There are a couple of convoys that have been organized. They’re grouping up for protection, trying to push through.”
“Maybe we should join one,” Daniel said.
Gene shook his head. “I don’t think so. You remember that military convoy we saw earlier? Might explain what they’re slinking around for.” Gene pointed at the radio. “All these civilian convoys talking on the radio, giving their positions. They’re telling the Feds where to find them. I have a feeling they’ll be getting dealt with soon enough.”
“I agree with Gene. We need to remain as small a target as possible,” Bob said. “They might actually draw some attention off us when the time comes.”
“I hope the time doesn’t come,” Christy said, getting everyone’s attention. “Killing rednecks is one thing. Killing police or soldiers is something else entirely.”
“Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that,” Bob said.
Teague didn’t say anything. But he, for one, was hoping to have the chance to kill some Feds. He’d done it once, and he was ready to do it again. But he wasn’t the only one thinking about it. The rest of the group was mulling it over in their minds as well. Well, everyone except Gene. He was occupied with the radio. He was always in the now, seldom looked to the future, and even less often dwelled on the past.
Around midnight, Christy said she was tired. Bob breathed a sigh of relief as he’d wanted to turn in for some time but was going to sit with her as long as she wanted.
“I’m bushed too. Think I’ll turn in as well,” Bob said.
“I’ll keep watch,” Gene said.
“Wake me up in a few hours and I’ll relieve you,” Teague said.
Daniel and Christy crawled into the tent and into their bags. Christy pressed a little closer to him on this night. He kept his arm over her, with his hand on his rifle lying beside her. He wasn’t going to let her go. He’d learned so much about her, more than he ever imagined. And the more he learned, the more he loved her. He waited for her to fall asleep. Knowing she had drifted off when her breathing changed, he finally closed his eyes.
Chapter 11
Before Daniel opened his eyes, he could smell her hair. He held off opening his eyes, instead staying in the moment. It brought him back to so many mornings when he’d woken this way, in this very tent. For a moment, this was just a camping trip. Then the smell of coffee drifted through the fine mesh screen of the small tent. As much as he savored the scent of Christy, he simply couldn’t resist the aroma of coffee.
Christy woke up when he pulled on the zipper of his sleeping bag. She bolted upright, wrapped tightly in her bag with the muzzle of the Glock poking out. “What? What is it?” she asked half awake.
Daniel put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay. It’s only coffee.”
Her hair was in her face. She managed to free her arms and brushed it away, taking a deep breath. “Mmm, I need some.” She then kicked off the bag as Daniel unzipped the tent.
Gene was fireside, tending a pot sitting in the coals. For all his oddities, one thing he was meticulous about was coffee. Gene approached the coffee production with the focus of a laboratory chemist. The ratios of coffee and water, and the grind of the beans must be precise. And he was damn good at it.
Gene looked up as the two stumbled from their tent and smiled. “Morning. Smells good, doesn’t it?”
Daniel stretched his arms high into the damp morning air. The sky was still a slate gray with the sun not quite over the horizon yet. “It sure does, Gene,” he replied.
Christy was dragging her sleeping bag with her and wrapped herself up in it once she sat down. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. “It smells so good, Gene.”
Gene was hovering over the pot, closely watching the glass perk on top. “It’s almost ready. Another minute.”
Daniel took a seat and stretched his feet out towards the fire to warm them. From where he sat, across the fire and out towards the woods, he could see the two men from the day before. While in the gray morning they were nothing more than an indiscernible lump, he knew what the lump was. He averted his eyes to look down into the fire. Bush TV was certainly a more preferable sight to wake up to.
Gene started pouring cups and handing them out. It wasn’t long before everyone was up, Bob and Teague joining them around the fire. While they drank their coffee, Gene went back to the van and returned with a box of Entenmann’s Danishes. He’d smuggled them out of Bob’s house with full intention of hiding them for himself. But he was really beginning to connect with these people, and he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
Opening the box, he held it out in front of Christy. She saw the box and immediately reached for one. “Oh…, where did we get these?”
“From Bob’s house,” Gene replied.
He went around the fire, offering everyone a Danish. Daniel waved it off. “Thanks, Gene. But if I eat that this early, my stomach won’t be right for the rest of the day.”
The corners of Gene’s mustache curled up. “More for me then.”
With breakfast taken care of, they began to break camp. While the guys loaded the van, Christy checked Bob’s legs. With her constant care, the wounds were already closing nicely. They were now fully scabbed over and only bled occasionally if Bob bent his knees to the extreme. Christy admonished him to take it easy and let them heal.
Bob smiled. “Thank you, Christy. Don’t know what we’d do without you.”
She patted his leg as she stood up. “Someone has to be the voice of reason around here.”
They were on the road just as the sun was coming up. The day was clear and bright and lending it a positive vibe. Half an hour later, they were passing the white cliffs of the Tombigbee River near Epes, Alabama. As they crossed the old trestle bridge, Christy looked back at the towering limestone cliffs falling into the river.
“That is so pretty,” she said, craning her neck to see it.
From his seat in the rear of the van, Teague had a prefect view. “Sure is. This country still has some beautiful, unspoiled places left.”
It took considerable navigational skills on Bob’s part to keep them away from Meridian, Mississippi. The wandering, winding route they were taking was adding considerable miles to the trip, but it was keeping them away from population centers, and that was the most important thing.
Approaching Chunky, Mississippi, Daniel looked at the fuel gauge. “I don’t think we’re going to have enough fuel to make it. The way we’re going, we’re burning too much.”
Bob nodded and looked at the map. After
a moment, he folded it into his lap and pointed up the road. “We’re coming into a small place called Chunky.” Christy laughed and snorted at the mention of the name.
“Are you serious?” She asked.
Nodding, Bob said, “Oh yeah,” and pointed to a sign on the side of the road announcing their arrival. “Let’s see if we can find fuel. We need to start keeping our eyes open and try to pick some up.” He spun around in his seat. “Everyone pass up whatever cash you have.”
Teague passed up the forty-seven dollars he had. Christy emptied her wallet. But like many young people today, she didn’t carry much cash. She only had eleven dollars and some change. Gene passed up a thick bank envelope. Bob felt it, then looked back at Gene. “How much is in here?”
Gene shrugged. “About twenty-seven hundred.”
Christy looked at him wide-eyed. “Why in the world do you have so much cash on you?”
“I don’t like banks. When all this started, I went to the window at the bank and closed one of my accounts. Figured it might come to this.”
Bob smiled and shook his head. “You are an interesting cat, Gene.”
Again, Gene shrugged. He took the comb from his pocket and ran it through his mustache.
But there was no fuel in Chunky, or much of anything else for that matter. They saw few people even as they passed through the small hamlet. It wasn’t until they arrived in Newton that they found a station that, to their surprise, had the sign lit up.
“Two oh nine a gallon.” Daniel said when he saw the green neon displaying the price of diesel.
“Interesting they have power.” Bob said. “Let’s go see what they have.”
Daniel steered the van into the Marathon station, stopping at the green handle of the diesel pump. The store had several people milling about in front of it and the van was quite the oddity for them.