Chapter 13
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Halfway to Windsor they pulled to the side of the highway, once again hooking the trailer to the RV. The ride to and past Windsor was peaceful, but soon the pleasant journey came to an abrupt end.
Don Rogers set his helicopter down in the road in front of them. Cam jumped out, running back to give status. The roadway, just over a mile ahead, was blocked.
Mace stood next to Johnny at the open door to the RV. “This state is just crawling with road agents.”
Johnny gave him a curious look. “What the heck's a road agent?”
Mace placed his hand on Johnny's shoulder. “You grow up not watching a single western?”
Johnny shook his head. “No.”
Mace laughed. “A road agent is what they used to call highway robbers back in the Old West. Go to Boot Hill Cemetery in Montana and you'll see the graves of six of them they hung in a single day.”
Johnny looked up at Jane. “Road agent? Who named them that?”
“Wasn't there,” Jane replied. “Couldn't say.”
Mace glanced down the road. “Was hoping this drive would be peaceful.”
“All the more reason for us to keep moving.”
Mace turned to Cam. “How many would you say are up there?”
“At least a dozen cars and trucks blocking both sides of the highway. And two of them are sheriff's cars. Dad thought it was just a checkpoint of some kind until they pulled somebody from a car and started beating them. From what I could see, the guy had his wife and kids with him. They made them get out and then popped the trunk. Emptied everything from there and the back seat, shoved them back in the car and sent them on their way.”
Mace scanned a Virginia map. “If we go back to 616, can we work our way past them on 617?”
Cam frowned. “Nope. They are parked all over that intersection at 617.”
Johnny asked, “Any suggestions?”
Mace thought for a moment. “I'm probably sticking my head in the lion’s mouth with this one, but let me go up and talk to them. If I'm not back in fifteen minutes, you know something is wrong.”
“Doesn't sound like much of a plan.”
Jane said, “How about this? If they shake you down, tell them an RV is stranded just down the road. If they send out cars to take advantage of us, we take them down and then use them as hostages to get you back and to get safe passage. These are probably townsfolk that all know each other. They would be willing to trade.”
Johnny shook his head. “Can't say I really like that as a plan either.”
Mace glanced back up the road. “We need to keep moving. I'm up for the possible trade if you two think you can handle it.”
“We got our end. You just keep yourself alive.”
Johnny said, “You left out one important part.”
“What's that?”
“What if they let you through? How do we follow?”
Jane said, “Cam, did you see us push the cars back there out of the road?”
Cam smiled. “I did. We were wondering what you were going to do.”
“You think I could push them out of the way if we roll through there slowly?”
“You'd only have to push one. They're kind of lined up cross-ways. One of them is a little red clown car. I know you could move that one.”
Jane sat back in the captain's chair. “Well, Johnny? We could push our way through if needed.”
Johnny frowned. “That's all good when you're riding in a hardened RV. That SUV doesn't offer much protection.”
Cam said, “If you pull off just before you get to them, you could cut through a yard or two and a parking lot. You have four-wheel drive?”
“I do.”
Mace said, “You follow Jane and peel off if she goes in for the push. They might be distracted enough to not bother taking a shot at you.”
Johnny chuckled, “You people are dead set on confronting everything head on, aren't you?”
Jane replied, “We are... and we will. Let's get this cat show on the road. Day's not getting any younger.”
Mace handed her his rifle. “I'll go in with the .40. No sense in giving up a good weapon if they decide they wanna take it.”
Jane held up her hand. “Hold on. Vanessa, let’s see that pea-shooter I gave you.”
Jane handed over the .32 caliber pistol as she wiggled her fingers for the forty. “If they want one that bad, they can keep the .32.”
Tres boarded the RV with several boxes of supplies from the Jeep. Mace pulled back onto the highway, following a pickup. When they arrived at the intersection, he stopped thirty yards back.
The truck was inspected and allowed to pass through. The sheriff, standing along with five others, waved Mace forward. He glanced up at Don Rogers and his son as they hovered several thousand feet above, wishing he had a similar vessel.
“What's going on, Officer?”
“I'm not an officer, I'm the sheriff.”
He looked around the inside of the Jeep. “Can you step out of the vehicle for me.”
It was an order and not a question. Mace complied.
“That weapon on your seat loaded?”
“Yes, sir. I've already been robbed once since this all started. Just want to protect myself.”
The sheriff looked at Mace with a suspicious eye as two of his deputized escorts climbed into the Jeep. “Just where is it you are headed? And where are you coming from?”
“Just came from Norfolk, sir. Heading over to Charlottesville.”
The sheriff put his hand up on the open door of the Jeep. “Why didn't you take I-64?”
“Interstates around Norfolk are all blocked. I figured Richmond wouldn't be any better. If you don't mind my asking, has something happened out here that you’re stopping everyone?”
“Looters. Already confiscated contraband from sixteen cars this morning.”
“Why is it the dregs come out when people are most in need?”
The sheriff gestured toward Mace's front plate. “You a vet?”
“Ranger, sir. Two tours in the Middle East.”
The sheriff reached up, placing his hand on Mace's shoulder. “Thanks for your service, son. I was in for twenty-two years. Navy. Never saw action though.”
“Consider yourself lucky, Sheriff. It's been six years and I still have nightmares. Wish it was avoidable, but I guess there's dregs the world over.”
The sheriff spat and then scowled. “You got that right. Danny! Put the man's gun back. And, Bobby, let the man through.”
Mace hesitated before getting back into the Jeep. “Sheriff? I have a favor to ask of you.”
The sheriff put his hands on his hips. “Go ahead.”
Mace gestured back down the road. “I have two more vehicles with me. We're just looking to get away from the bad guys. No contraband. Everything is ours.”
The sheriff tilted his head in suspicion. “You say that with a look of apprehension.”
Mace replied, “Well, we have supplies with us. A lot of supplies... and weapons. We're planning for the long haul and hoping for the best. We just want to pass through. Not looking for trouble or to make trouble for anyone.”
The sheriff raised his chin in thought as he looked Mace up and down. “You've been honest and straightforward with me, Mr...?”
“Hardy. Mace Hardy.”
“You bring your people up. If they look legit, I'll let them through. We aren't looking to rob anyone.”
Mace offered a half smile. “Thanks, Sheriff. Glad to see that someone is still willing to take charge and do what's right. And just so you know, I think what you're doing here is exactly that.”
The sheriff pointed to the back of a pickup stacked with boxes. “Just had a guy come through twenty minutes ago with sixteen cases of expensive liquor. Had the gall to steal it with his wife and kid in the car. Tried to claim it belonged to him. I knew better. We've had run-ins with him before. Anyway, bring your people up, Mr. Hardy. I'
ll wave you past.”
Mace climbed back into the Jeep, turned and headed back.
Jane was waiting with the door open. “Saw Don coming back this way. We were just getting ready to move.”
Mace said, “Just follow me through. Go slow. I think the sheriff is OK. Says he's looking for looters. The people he had with him looked like regular townsfolk. Just smile and wave as you go through.”
“So, no stopping?”
Mace shook his head. “He said he'd let us pass.”
The small caravan rolled up to the roadblock at a slow click. The sheriff waved them to come through.
As the RV rolled up beside him, the sheriff yelled out, “Ho! Stop right there!”
Mace glanced over at the .32 sitting on his seat, deciding to let it sit where it was. He opened the door, hopped out and walked back toward the sheriff as he gestured for Jane to open her window.
Jane leaned out on her arm. “Something wrong?”
The sheriff pointed. “You Jane Tretcher?”
Jane returned a confused look. “Yes.”
The sheriff turned back to one of his townies. “Bobby, come here!”
A chubby looking farmhand wearing coveralls waddled over.
The sheriff pointed again. “That's her! The one I was telling you about from last year!”
The sheriff continued his grin. “I'm sorry, Mrs. Tretcher. It's just I never forget a face. I saw you shoot at two events last year. Recognized you because of the RV. This the armored one?”
Jane nodded. “That it is, Sheriff. Want to come aboard for a look?”
The sheriff high-stepped around to the door as Jane opened it. “Come on up. Have a look.”
The sheriff topped the stairs. “Aw, now this is living.”
Jane waved Johnny up the stairs. “Show them the tower.”
“Excuse me, gentlemen, I need into that closet.”
Seconds later, a hatch on the roof opened and a smiling Johnny Tretcher lifted up into the air in a basket.
The sheriff shook his head. “Ain't that somethin'.”
When the closet had again settled to the floor, Johnny took the sheriff out for a look at the bays. “We can filter just about any water, fifty gallons a day. And over here, air filters, good for up to eight hours. Will keep out tear-gas and such. Actual smoke will cut way back on that eight, but it will give us options.”
Johnny pulled a battery-powered ratchet from a holder, setting it on the ground beside a rear wheel. Returning to the air-bay, he pulled a round steel plate that was folded in half with a hinge. The plate was flipped open and hoisted into place beside the rear tire. The ratchet was used along with four custom bolts to attach the plate to the wheel hub.
The sheriff shook his head. “Would you look at that! You expecting a shootout?”
“I hope not, but it never hurts to be prepared.”
As Johnny attached the plates covering the remaining wheels, the sheriff walked back to the RV door. “Mrs. Tretcher, thank you and your husband for the tour. Sorry to have taken up so much of your time.”
“Not a problem, Sheriff. And watch out for yourself. We've already had some nasty brawls with some very bad people. If this power outage persists, they'll eventually be coming this way.”
The sheriff smiled. “I appreciate the warning, Mrs. Tretcher. We're a pretty close group here, we'll be OK.”
Mace waved to the sheriff as he climbed back into the Jeep. Tres joined him.
“Wish I could tell them more about what's possibly out there. Seem like good people.”
Tres said, “We could always invite them to come along.”
“Fat chance of that. This is their home. They'll be staying here and fighting for Wakefield.”
As they passed through the town, Mace took note of the townsfolk who were out and about like it was a normal day. The stores were closed, but kids were riding bikes and the occasional car or pickup moved about, no doubt taking care of the day's business.
After Wakefield, they passed through Waverly and Disputanta. Both were small towns and both seemed at peace. As they approached Petersburg, Don Rogers again stopped their progress.
Cam came up to the Jeep. “To get through Petersburg you have to cross under I-95 and I-85. Both are jammed with cars in and around the interchanges. Dad thinks you should go south down Highway 156 and work your way back around and up to Sutherland. You can pass under both interstates without going through interchanges.”
The roads on the Petersburg detour were narrow but passable. An hour was added to the journey west. It went by without incident. Once back on Highway 460, the ride to Burkeville saw little traffic. The locals, on their farms, were staying home.
HADRON Dark Matter Page 14