Davis leaned toward Damon, whispering, “This is the help you promised?”
“Uncle Don, we don’t have anywhere else to go,” explained Damon. “Can we stay long enough to figure something out?”
“You mean until your problems catch up to you and we have to deal with them? No, you can’t stay. The longer you’re here the more likely your problems will affect us.”
Damon couldn’t believe his own flesh and blood was turning him away, but he, Davis, and Peck were getting the message, remaining silent. Their fate was completely in his hands and it didn’t appear there wasn’t anything any of them could say or do to change his mind. Damon and his uncle had never been close and it didn’t appear that was ever going to change.
“Since you are family,” began Uncle Don, “and even though I always thought you were a spoiled child, I’m going to give you food and water to take with you when you leave.”
“Where will we go?” asked Damon.
“That’s your problem. You will be escorted beyond our border and from there it’s up to you.”
A young girl ran up and handed Uncle Don a gunny sack. He gave it to Damon who lifted it, checking its weight. It felt light. At the risk of insulting his uncle, he looked inside. “This is it? This is the best you can do for family?”
“It’s all I’m going to do. I know how you and the dear governor treated the people in Tent City, forcing them to work as slaves, giving them just enough rations to get by. It’s better than you deserve.”
A boy brought two half-gallon plastic jugs of water to Uncle Don which he also handed over.
“This won’t last the three of us for more than two days,” said Damon with a touch of bitterness. He knew he had to control his temper and his tongue. If he said how he really felt, they’d probably take the food and water back.
“If you weren’t family, as you keep reminding me, you wouldn’t be given anything,” said Uncle Don. “And you certainly wouldn’t like what we do to strangers.”
Damon had an idea of what his uncle meant. Just as Uncle Don had heard about Sector 4, he’d heard stories too, about Camp Liberty. But, his traveling companions had no idea of the actual danger they were in. If they had, they would have been terrified and disgusted.
“How can you treat another human being this way?” asked Davis, desperation in his voice. “You can’t just leave us out there to die.”
Uncle Don couldn’t help presenting a huge smile. He couldn’t believe the former governor’s audacity, wondering if he truly couldn’t see the irony. “You mean like you’ve been doing? You’ll have the same chance as all the others you took to the wasteland to die. But, I’m not worried about your surviving. I’m sure my nephew is very resourceful.”
Damon was getting nowhere and arguing wasn’t helping. “Will we be given our weapons back?” asked Damon.
Uncle Don nodded to the escort leader. “When you get to the border.”
Damon and his uncle stared at one another. “I don’t think there’s anything more to say. So, it’s time for you to go,” said Uncle Don. “Good luck. And don’t come back.”
Damon was sure he didn’t mean the good luck part and certain he was serious about staying away.”
Uncle Don looked directly at the escort leader, “Mark, take them to the southern border and leave them.”
Mark, using his horse, forced them to turn their horses back toward the gate. Damon looked back over his shoulder at his uncle. Not another word was spoken between them. He was upset, but didn’t really blame his uncle. He would have done the same thing if their roles had been reversed. Coming there had been both a long shot and their best option at the time. Now, they’d have to move on to plan B and fortunately, as directed by his Uncle Don, they were headed south, Damon’s second choice. Paradise was down there somewhere.
In late afternoon, their escort gave them their weapons back and rode away. All the ammo had been removed and placed with the food in the gunny sack. It hadn’t been necessary. None of the three had the slightest inclination of starting anything with the odds so much against them. Davis told himself that if given the chance, once he’d re-grouped, he’d send his new Guard back to wipe them out. They sat and watched as their escorts rode away without uttering another word to them. Uncle Don had said it all.
“Do you think you can find Paradise again?” asked Davis.
“Of course,” said Damon. Even though he’d been there once before, he only knew its general direction. There was a reason why the Amish valley had gone undetected for so long.
***
It was easier now to track Davis, Damon, and Peck since they were on horseback, allowing Daniel and John to follow at a quicker pace. They could sense they were gaining on their prey. The tracks led to where a small campfire had been. They were surprised Damon would have taken the time to build a fire. John dismounted.
“Do you suppose they don’t think anyone’s coming after them?” asked John.
“It doesn’t seem likely. Damon’s smarter than that.”
John placed his hand near the coals. “The coals are still warm. It had to have been them, and that means they can’t be too far ahead.”
John re-mounted. Davis and his traveling companions were still headed west. Almost immediately, Daniel and John noticed from the tracks that Davis’ group had been joined by several other horses, coming in from all directions.
“Maybe this is why they had time for a campfire, they were waiting for someone,” suggested John.
Daniel remained silent a moment, trying to read the signs and visualize what had happened. “I don’t think so. It looks more to me like they were surrounded by the other riders right here, after they left the campsite, and then rode off together. They may have been taken hostage.”
“Should we follow?” asked John.
“”I’d like to know what happened here, wouldn’t you?” asked Daniel. “I’m not willing to let Davis or Damon off so easily. I need to see for myself.”
***
Ryder and Levi passed by family after family scattered along the road south of the compound as they headed for Paradise. The former guards and their families were free of Davis and Damon, but without having a specific destination in mind had apparently stayed where there was safety in numbers. Apparently, some recognized Ryder, calling out his name as he passed by. Perhaps they remembered him from his time as a member of the governor’s Guard, or from his most recent visit as a prisoner and then liberator.
They had heard the stories of how he’d been forced to shoot his best friend. And as a result the citizens had regained access to the supplies inside the compound walls. They knew he was taking his friend to Paradise for burial.
“Where do we go?” he heard them ask over and over. “Take us with you.”
Paradise wasn’t big enough to accommodate all of the Guard and their families. Their resources were limited. Even if he wanted to, it wasn’t his place to grant them permission to live there. That right belonged to his father. Samuel would never turn anyone away by choice, but Ryder was sure the others living there would disapprove and loudly voice their concerns. If Samuel insisted on helping, the community would most likely resist, possibly causing it to fall apart. That had almost been the case when Daniel and his family had escaped to Paradise at Samuel’s invitation. Samuel could have insisted his friend be allowed to stay, but realized that decision would have led to a split in the community and negative repercussions. Fortunately, he knew of an alternative place where they could go.
The former Guard members needed to find a place of their own. If they stuck together and worked together, they could go almost anywhere and make it work. It would be a fresh start. However, if individual families tried to survive on their own, it would most likely end in disaster. There were too many dangers to overcome in the wasteland. After five years, borders had already been established between factions, and some were unforgiving to trespassers. And then there were the nomadic scavenging hordes, ruthless, attack
ing the weak, taking what they wanted
Ryder was sympathetic, glad most of the Guard had broken free from the governor’s grasp as he and Daniel had done, but he didn’t have a solution for where they could go. There was the valley where Daniel and John had taken their families for a fresh start, but perhaps they didn’t want these men as neighbors, a constant reminder of their former lives. But the decision would have to be Samuel’s since their valley had been one of his properties.
However, old property boundaries meant very little these days. Today, borders were more a matter of what could be defended. Fortunately, both Paradise and the other valley were concealed and off the beaten path, not easily found.
Ryder found himself frequently repeating an apology to the guards and their families as he passed by, “I’m sorry, I can’t help.”
***
There wasn’t a road or trail where Uncle Don’s men had left Davis, Damon, and Peck. They were in the middle of nowhere, once again on their own with the other two counting on Damon to lead them to safety.
Damon should have been familiar with the area, but now the landscape had changed and was completely foreign to him. Many of the landmarks had been destroyed by the earthquakes and neglect. He had lived in the suburbs of Oklahoma City before the earthquakes changed everything. Being raised in central Oklahoma, he had visited or passed through much of the western half of the state at one time or other.
Still, he had an idea of where they were. He had come in this general direction on the first disposal trip to make sure the area where those forty-years-old and over were dropped off was adequately desolate, dry, and far enough from any resources to assure they wouldn’t survive. Even before the earthquakes, the communities in this part of the state were sparse, scattered many miles apart, and now civilization of any kind was non-existent.
Damon chose to continue their trek to the south until he could recognize a landmark that would give him his bearings. Their options were limited. He knew he didn’t want to lead them further west into the unknown, back north to his Uncle Don, or northeast toward the prison compound.
The land surface became sandier the further they traveled. The vegetation was beginning to remind him of his grandparent’s ranch outside of Childress in the Texas panhandle. The mesquite, yucca, and cactus had taken over, spreading unchecked and out of control.
As expected, Davis began to complain. It wasn’t about being hungry for a change, Uncle Don had made sure they had enough food to last all three for at least a couple of days, if properly rationed. If they continued to travel during that time frame, they would be far enough away from Camp Liberty to make it difficult to go back. Most likely Uncle Don’s reasoning.
Davis, not accustomed to riding a horse, was developing a soreness on his backside. Uncle Don had refused to sacrifice any saddles. Once Davis started complaining, it seemed to gain momentum.
“It’s getting dark, shouldn’t we stop?” asked Davis. “It could get dangerous.”
Damon looked at the sun. “Do you think whoever is following us will stop?”
“No one’s behind us now,” said Davis, sure he was speaking the obvious. “Don’t you think we would have seen someone by now? And even if there is someone behind us, they’re going to run into your Uncle Don’s men first.”
Damon looked at Peck. “What about you? Do you want to stop?”
Before Peck could answer, “You’re asking him?” asked Davis, with disbelief. “Who cares what he thinks?”
Peck didn’t respond, neither to Damon’s question nor to the governor’s comment. In a no-win situation, he decided to keep his mouth shut. He had seen what Damon did to those who were no longer necessary, became a burden, or disagreed with him.
“Okay,” said Damon giving in, “we’ll stop soon and make camp, have something to eat, and you, Governor, can rest.”
They stopped where they found a clearing among the mesquite, covered with prairie grass for their horses. They all dismounted, Davis slowly, finding it hard to stand upright, sore from riding and bow-legged. Damon told Peck to sparingly water the horses. Their supply was limited.
“Collect twigs or dried weeds so we can get a fire started,” directed Damon. “Keep your eyes open for dried cow patties, too. They’ll burn just as well.”
Damon began to search around their campsite for something to burn. Not finding much on the ground, he was forced to break off dead branches from the surrounding mesquite. Bringing an armload of wood back to the campsite, he found Davis sitting on the ground, making a point to drop his pile right next to the governor. Davis, who wasn’t paying any attention, was startled and jumped, looking up at him with annoyance. Damon was glaring back at him.
“What’s wrong?” asked Davis.
“The more we have to burn, the longer the fire will last,” informed Damon.
“Peck will help,” volunteered Davis.
“Yes, he will, right after he takes care of the horses. Everyone has to do his part if we’re going to get out of this.”
Damon continued to stare at him, hoping he would finally get the message.
Becoming uncomfortable, “Okay!” blurted Davis, grunting as he slowly got to his feet with assistance from Damon. He slowly walked off.
Damon got busy starting a fire, his attention no longer on Davis. He didn’t care whether he came back with anything or not, just as long as he went through the motions and wasn’t sitting around while he and Peck did all the work.
Peck returned with an armload too, setting the branches and twigs on the pile. Damon sat back and observed the fire as it came to life. Davis came back with a tumbleweed and dropped it next to the pile. Damon just shook his head in disbelief. At least what he brought back would burn. Again, he wondered if Davis was worth keeping around.
The sun was below the horizon and Damon took it on himself to hand out portions of the food in the gunny sack. Davis wasn’t happy with his portion and let Damon know about it. After receiving a prolonged look of irritation, Davis dropped the subject. He came to the realization he couldn’t survive without his counselor. And Damon had accepted that listening to Davis’ complaining was part of the package.
Peck remained silent, as he’d learned to do, to keep from being drawn into an argument by either Damon or Davis. Among the three of them, he was odd man out. He also learned that out of sight was out of mind and worked it to his advantage. He quickly ate his morsels and stood. “I’ll check on the horses and look for more firewood,” he announced to whoever was interested.
Damon nodded too late for Peck to see, having already headed into the dark. He moved the horses to a new area of prairie grass and gave them a little more water. There wasn’t much left. Tomorrow they’d have to look to replenish their supply. Something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. He turned to scan the darkness in that direction. There was a flicker of light so small it could barely be seen. His eyes opened wide with realization. Another campfire. They were not alone. There was someone to the south, in the direction they had been traveling.
“Counselor! Counselor!” yelled Peck as he ran back to their camp.
Damon remained kneeling by the fire, poking at the embers, unconcerned at Peck’s sudden excitement. “Yes, Peck. What is it?”
“We’re not alone! I can see a campfire!”
Damon and Davis exchanged looks, concern coming over Damon’s face, panic on Davis’. Both jumped to their feet, Davis much faster this time without assistance.
“Show me!” ordered Damon.
Peck did an about-face with Damon and Davis on his heels. Well beyond the light of the campfire, in the middle of nowhere, the night seemed even darker, the stars brighter. It took Peck only a second to re-locate the speck of light. “There!” he said, pointing.
Damon followed his finger. “You’re right. I see it. They still appear to be quite a ways off. We’ll change course in the morning and go around.”
“No, it’s over there,” corrected Davis.
&nbs
p; Both Damon and Peck looked in the direction he was staring, southeast. He was right, there was another fire.
“Hurry!” Damon shouted to the others as he began to run. “We have to put out our fire before they see it, if it’s not too late.”
Damon started kicking dirt on the fire, helped by Peck.
Davis watched in disbelief, not sure what was happening. “Could it be your uncle’s men?” asked Davis.
“I doubt it. We’re well past his borders and they’re in the wrong direction. I think we’ve accidently crossed over into someone else’s territory. Peck, get the horses ready to ride. We’ve got to get away from here right now. They may have already seen our fire and be on their way here.”
“Perhaps they’re friendly,” suggested Davis.
“And what if they’re not?” asked Damon. “That’s just it, we don’t know. It’s not worth the risk to stick around and find out.” He kicked one last bit of dirt over the remaining glowing coals.
***
CHAPTER THREE
Daniel easily followed the trail after Davis and his companions had been joined by several more horses, all traveling together. Within an hour the prints merged with an apparently well traveled and maintained road.
John was apprehensive and a bit confused. It was obvious that an intentional effort had been made to maintain the road, recently graded and smooth. That meant there were people out here who were attempting to make improvements, unlike back in Sector 4 where Davis had only planned to survive, not thrive. Perhaps the people out here weren’t just a horde of ruthless scavengers as he had expected, but were making an effort to return things to some semblance of normalcy.
“Did you know the people out here were doing things like this?” John asked.
“I knew about the people, but I had no idea they were making improvements. This shows organization and planning.”
Borders: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller (Aftershock Series Book 3) Page 2