Next World Series (Vol. 2): Families First [The Road]

by Ewing, Lance K.

  “I believed him and gave him another chance. It was just two weeks later when it happened again, but this time it was different.”

  “Different how?” asked Janet.

  “Well,” Sheila continued, “this time he beat me bad…real bad... I went to the hospital after collapsing at work the next day. But I covered for him, telling the doctors and his dad that I fell down some stairs, giving them pretty much the same type of story I gave Lonnie last night.”

  “Do you love him?” asked Joy.

  “Not anymore,” she replied, as tears rolled down her face, dropping onto her jeans.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, regaining her composure quickly. “I want out, but he won’t…I mean, he won’t ever let me leave.”

  Sheila glanced over towards the trailer and saw Dan staring at her, slowly shaking his head back and forth. She started to shake.

  “It’s okay, sweetie,” said Janet. “You’re safe here with us. I can assure you our men won’t tolerate this behavior from anyone in or around this group. And don’t quote me on it, but I’m pretty sure Lonnie, and even Vlad, were impressed with your mechanical abilities.”

  “Where did you learn that?” Joy asked.

  “My dad,” Sheila replied. “I was the boy he never had, but he was so good to me. Never hit me, not even once.”

  * * * * * * *

  Chapter Two ~

  Outside Decatur, Texas

  Two hours later we were just outside Decatur, Texas. We stopped to group up.

  “Let’s take 30 and strategize before we hit Decatur,” said Lonnie after circling the vehicles.

  Jake and I met with Lonnie, Mike and Steve to go over the maps and have alternate routes around the town. Jake pointed out a few roads leading around the main part of town.

  “What’s going on?” asked Lonnie, as we heard loud arguing coming from the front of the caravan. We jumped down off the trailer to investigate.

  As we neared the front truck, we heard Dan screaming at Sheila. He was yelling about her talking behind his back and trying to leave him behind at the last camp spot.

  Coming around the side of the truck, I yelled, “Hey” at Dan, but it was too late. His clenched fists connected first left, then right, with Sheila’s chin and nose. She fell backward, with blood pouring out of her broken nose, deviated grossly to the right side of her face. Jake was able to catch her as she fell, keeping her head from slamming on the ground.

  Mike immediately grabbed Dan in a headlock, saying, “Let’s go, big guy,” and walking off the road and into the trees, out of sight. We could hear Dan yelling to let him go.

  “What do you think?” I asked Lonnie.

  “Well, it’s a new world, and I don’t think Dan’s coming back,” he replied.

  Mike let Dan out of his headlock. “You’ve got a tight combination,” he said. “Right-left, or was it left-right? You should be proud of yourself; it looks like you broke her nose. She must have had it coming, isn’t that what you think?”

  Mike swiftly swung his right arm, connecting his fist with Dan’s face, knocking out his front tooth.

  “This is none of your business,” Dan spat, as blood poured from his mouth.

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” replied Mike. “You’ve made it all our business now, and that’s where it ends.” Mike drew his Ruger SR 40 pistol from his right hip, pointing it at Dan’s forehead.

  Without emotion or another word, Mike fired his weapon, catching Dan between the eyes. Mike turned without watching Dan fall.

  He emerged from the trees to a quiet, wide-eyed group, who all heard the gunfire. All were stunned, apart from us present outside the gun store when he shot the family man in the back.

  Nancy was treating Sheila, who was unaware thus far of Dan’s fate.

  “This is going to hurt,” said Nancy, as she grabbed Sheila’s nose, straightening it with a swift pull and a crunch. Sheila screamed out and immediately fell silent, breathing heavily through her mouth… With the bleeding all but stopped, they got her back in the truck.

  Mike poked his head in, asking Sheila if she was okay. “She will be,” said Nancy, with no one asking about Dan.

  “Mike?” asked Lonnie. “Do you have something to tell me?”

  “Only that Danny boy won’t be joining us for the trip, after all,” replied Mike.

  He turned and walked back to his vehicle at the back of the caravan. Lonnie looked up at Jake, Vlad and me, shaking his head.

  “All right, guys. About three miles up the road we’re going to head north on County Road 4003. It connects to a few more that wind through the Lyndon B. Johnson National Grasslands. We’ll then cut west to Highway 287 North, staying clear of the city of Decatur by about 15 miles all the way around.

  “I’m guessing we’ll run into a fair number of folks that headed out to the grasslands looking for food to hunt. They will probably not be grouped up, but we can’t be sure.

  “Let’s go,” said Lonnie to a few people walking about. Five minutes later, we moved out.

  We found the county road a few miles up and headed north.

  I was taking in the scenery of the grasslands, knowing it wouldn’t be long before the area went up in smoke.

  Small makeshift camps with two to ten people lay scattered across the land. Tents of red, green, blue and orange stretched as far as I could see. In the old world, it could have easily been mistaken for a music festival, like the one made famous by the band originally from Palo Alto, California, called the Grateful Dead. In this next-world it was just another death trap, as they slowly ran out of food and water.

  Most just stared at our caravan, and a few stood up, pointing in our direction.

  “Eyes peeled,” said Lonnie over the radio. “Let’s take it nice and slow.”

  “Beautiful country,” said Vlad to Jake and me. “Reminds me of Mother Russia in the countryside, kind people living off the land.”

  “We’ve got something up ahead, 150 yards,” yelled Lonnie over the radio.

  “It looks like a blockade: Let’s lock and load, boys, and everyone in the vehicles down on the floor.”

  The road appeared blocked all the way across with a combination of large logs, rocks and old tractor tires.

  As we slowed to a stop, a shantytown of tents and tarps spanned the horizon.

  “It looks like they grouped up,” said Jake.

  “That’s not good,” replied Vlad. “Hand me my AK,” he added. “I may be down, but I’m still a threat.”

  Lonnie slowed the lead truck a hundred yards out and stopped, with the rest of the caravan following suit.

  “Here they come,” said Lonnie over the walkie-talkies. “Women and children down on the floor. Shooters at the ready but stand down for now.”

  A growing crowd of refugees flanked the caravan on both sides. Men, women and children slowly enclosed the vehicles.

  “Why do they have their children here?” asked Vlad.

  “Do not engage,” said Lonnie over the radio. “There are women and children. Hold all positions.”

  As the growing crowd closed in on the caravan, everything moved in slow motion.

  “Please, Lord,” I prayed. “Let us resolve this situation without harm on either side.”

  With our group surrounded by everyday fathers, mothers and school children, it was clear we were all getting nervous.

  “Having firepower does no good if you’re aiming at women and children,” said Jake to Vlad and me.

  “What do we do?” asked Vlad. The surrounding crowd was eerily quiet. Even the children didn’t speak.

  “Nothing,” said Jake.

  “I never expected this,” I added.

  Lonnie, Mike and Steve all joined us on the trailer to come up with a plan.

  “Guys,” said Lonnie, “this isn’t good; we can’t just shoot our way out of this. We all have families to protect, but I’m not shooting at women and kids.”

  “We’re with you,” I said, with Jake and Vlad n
odding in agreement. Mike was stone cold and didn’t respond.

  “Lance and Jake,” said Lonnie. “We need to find out who’s in charge and figure this out.

  “Who’s in charge here?” yelled Lonnie, in a toned-down voice. The crowd was silent.

  “Who’s in charge?” he repeated loudly. Several of the adults pointed towards a military-style tent, 100 yards off the road.

  “Okay, Lance and Jake. We’ve got to do this,” said Lonnie. “Mike, Jim and Steve, you help Vlad cover.

  “Mike,” he added, “promise me you won’t shoot anyone.”

  “I’ll do my best, buddy,” he responded, “but don’t be too long.”

  Jake and I glanced at our wives and kids.

  Hendrix gave me the monocular look. I gave it right back, hoping it wasn’t my last.

  “Danny,” said Hudson, “look at the kids,” pointing around the caravan. “They look like zombies, just standing there.”

  We approached the tent, weapons pointing towards the ground.

  Two guards stepped aside, opening the tent and motioning us to go inside.

  I was nervous about it, but I didn’t see any other way.

  “Sit, please?” asked a man at the back of the enclosure, seated on a colorful blanket.

  He was easily over 60 years of age, with long gray hair pulled back in a ponytail and a leathery face, signifying he may have lived out here for years.

  “Welcome. We have been expecting you,” he said confidently.

  “I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” said Lonnie, “but we just ran into your barricade a few minutes ago.”

  “I’m guessing you think we are unorganized, not capable of having scouts out 10 or 20 miles to alert us of incoming dangers. Is that right?” asked the man on the blanket.

  “Why do you think my people surrounded your caravan without saying a word?”

  “We’re not sure about that,” I said. “What do you want?”

  He smiled. “My name is Ronna, and I’m the leader of our growing group out there.

  “We want the same thing you do. Peace for our families, women and children. Food, protection and prosperity in this new and exciting world.”

  “How did you come to be the leader so quickly?” I asked, genuinely interested.

  “I was a barista at a coffee house you may have heard of, started in Seattle,” he said in a low voice, “and my real name is Harry.

  “I headed out here after the power went down and found a large population of unorganized families looking for direction. What may have taken many years in the old world took just days in this next world for me to establish myself as the leader and caretaker of our growing family.

  “With that being said, I need to provide for them as their new leader.

  “We are short on weapons, as I’m sure you have surmised. However, most men I know would not fire on women and children unless it was absolutely necessary; and even then, I’m not sure.”

  “So, you use them as pawns for your agenda?” asked Jake angrily.

  “Whatever it takes,” responded Ronna.

  “If it were just me and a few of my men manning the barricade, you all would be two miles down the road and we would be dead. Does that sound about right?” he angled. After a long pause, with no one speaking, he added, “We’re just like you, trying to survive.”

  “It sounds like you’re nothing like us,” I threw in.

  “Okay, we understand,” said Lonnie. “What do you want for our safe passage?”

  “Protection,” said Ronna. “It won’t be long until we get someone passing through who doesn’t care about the children.”

  “How about an AR-15 and a 9mm pistol for safe passage?” asked Lonnie.

  “That won’t do,” replied Ronna.

  Mike opened the tent, overhearing the conversation, entering with his pistol drawn.

  “How did you get in here?” asked Ronna.

  “Seems your guards don’t want to die today,” replied Mike.

  “I think my buddy Lonnie here has offered a deal that’s more than fair, with a little ammo, I’m guessing.”

  “What if we say no?” said Ronna.

  “Well, that’s easy,” said Mike. “Your little group here gets to pick a new leader, and by the time they do, we’ll be down the road. I’m short on patience at the moment, and I assure you I can go either way on this, so what’s it going to be?”

  “It’s a deal,” said Ronna, “and we can have you on your way in 15 minutes or so.”

  He led the way out of the tent and back down to the vehicles. All eyes were on him as he approached, stopping 20 yards out.

  Raising one arm, and without a word, he pointed to the east, and his people followed.

  One of his guards came to the trailer to collect the trade weapons and ammo.

  The blockade was opened enough for the vehicles to proceed, and the caravan moved forward slowly and steadily.

  Three miles north, Lonnie stopped the group and called for a circle. “Time for a potty break,” he said to the kids. They lined up, nearly all having to go.

  He addressed the adults, saying, “I’m sorry about the scare back there, but it could have been much worse. Thanks to our good friend Vlad, we have some things to trade.

  “It won’t always be that easy, I’m afraid, but no one got hurt today, and that’s fine with me.”

  “Except for Dan,” Jake whispered to me.

  “That’s why I told you to stay away from Mike,” I replied. “He’s a loose cannon, and I don’t want my new best friend getting caught in any trouble.”

  “Awe, that’s nice,” replied Jake, “but I can handle myself.”

  Winding around the town of Decatur was slow going. “Eyes in all directions,” called Lonnie over the radio. “It’s open country out here and we stick out. We’ll hold steady at about 10 miles per hour.”

  There was a steady migration of families walking with all their belongings. Some had backpacks, and others pulled kids’ wagons.

  A few had grocery carts, but most just pulled rolling suitcases or had large garbage bags over their shoulders. They all carried themselves slumped and defeated, eyes void of the life they recently enjoyed, now marching with free will from their once-comforting homes towards the unknown and probable death.

  “I’m betting only one in five families have any kind of shelter, tents or sleeping bags,” I said to Jake and Vlad.

  “If even that,” replied Vlad. “Where are all the Refugee camps we heard about? These people will never make it on their own out here. It’s sad, yes?”

  Jake and I nodded our heads in agreement.

  “I’m guessing Ronna will be adding some more to his group, now that he has a little firepower,” said Jake.

  The miles slowly rolled past, with more of the same.

  Once clear of Decatur we got back on Highway 287, heading northwest.

  Lonnie stopped the lead truck and called to circle the vehicles. “Time for lunch and a look at the map,” he called over the radio.

  “We’ve got lunch covered,” said Joy, Nancy, Tina and Lonnie’s wife.

  “We’re about 50 miles outside of Wichita Falls, near as I can tell,” said Vlad, pointing to the map.

  “Lake Arrowhead is here, about 20 miles south of the city,” said Lonnie.

  “We can hit the south side of the lake for the night and catch the main highway again, 35 miles northwest of the city, tomorrow without losing much time.

  “We can get everyone a much-needed lake bath, and we can set up my yo-yo fishing reels.”

  “Yo-yo what?” asked Vlad.

  “They’re automatic fishing reels that look like a kid’s yo-yo. You just tie them to a log or stake them into the ground, bait the hook and wait. When a fish is on, the reel brings it in and holds it until we check it.”

  “Sounds like cheating to me,” said Vlad.

  “Yeah,” I responded. “It kind of is. That’s why it was illegal in most states, and now it’
s just a cool food catcher.”

  “I wouldn’t mind some good fish jerky,” said Jake. “Most folks coming out of the city will head to the north part of the lake, as the path of least resistance, so we should stay relatively secluded to the south. With any luck, we’ll have a nice big fish fry tonight and some left to smoke.”