Highway: A Post-Apocalyptic Tale of Survival

by John Q. Prepper

  The battle that followed was the first that Frank had ever lost.

  He looked up from the wheel of the convoy truck he had stolen and shot a glance at his side mirror and his pickup following, Porter behind the wheel and Wallace at shotgun. Then he glared at the back of the truck through his rearview mirror, counting the heads. Out of over a hundred, only maybe a dozen had made it. The rest were killed when they were surrounded. He wasn’t sure how he and a few made it out alive. But they did.

  Danbury and so many others didn’t. And it was his fault he couldn’t save them.

  “Where next?” asked the lieutenant, whose name he had forgotten.

  Yes, where? He wondered this too.

  They could head to Farook’s base, but they were down to maybe a hundred rounds of ammo and four or five AKs and one Berretta pistol. Farook was probably loaded for bear. This would be a suicide mission.

  They could head to Stowell, Texas, who could certainly use the help for the coming invasion.

  They pulled up to the intersection at I-10: to the east was Farook and certain death; to the west was home and another chance. He put his hands at two o’clock and was pulling down on the wheel when the Hellfire missile hit them from the drone above.

  The convoy truck’s back erupted. The explosion sent it forward and over, where it came to rest in the middle of I-10. Frank hung upside down, held in his place from his harness. His eyes fluttered for a moment, when he recognized the wetness and the taste of iron.

  Before a web of blackness shut out his vision, Frank said a little prayer for the town of Stowell, because he felt guilty for not being able to bring back Porter; then for his country, because he felt guilty he couldn’t get enough terrorists; and finally he thought about his godkids. He hoped they made it safely to Florida with his friend Stan.

  Then there was nothing.

  Chapter 23

  Abe

  Lexi’s palms were pressed hard against her face, teeth clenched, her body folded tight like a cannonball, while she knelt and waited for death.

  The gun shots were so close to her, they exploded as loudly as if she were shooting the gun.

  But she wasn’t hit.

  In between the ringing, she heard a voice. It sounded distant, but she knew it was right above her. “Come on,” and “over there.” She parted her fingers, chancing a glance, and saw a couple of armed men brush by, mostly ignoring them. She released her hands altogether and peered at the man who had been pointing his rifle at them, standing in front of her, offering his hand to her, “It’s all right miss, they won’t be chasing you anymore.”

  Lexi looked to her right and saw Travis clutching himself, shaking. She spun around and there was the man whose nose she had broken, lying before the tree line. The man who had knocked her out and wanted to hand her over to his men for things she didn’t want to consider. Zach was dead.

  She nervously studied the tree line, trying to somehow peek through its shadowy darkness to see if Clyde was still there.

  “The others are gone,” said the shooter, his hand still held out to her. “Not to worry, our men will make sure that they don’t come back.”

  She looked at the man. His eyes spoke of kindness, his face of hardship. Multiple scars seemed to snake out of a tightly groomed gray-black beard, so many that they appeared to hold his mug together, like seams in a soccer ball. “I’m Sal,” he said in a softer tone, thrusting his hand out farther.

  Lexi didn’t realize she’d been kneeling the whole time, till she rose to accept his hand with hers. She gathered her brother up with her free arm, his body still shuddering with fear.

  After several steps she asked, “Is this … Abe’s place?” Hopefully this wasn’t some grand mistake after such a long journey.

  The man stopped to look directly at her. A welcoming smile grew, making the creases more defined. “It most certainly is.” He continued forward, but turned his head at an angle so they could hear. “Do you know Abe?”

  “My father was … a friend of his.”

  He led them toward a main driveway and several buildings. “Was?”

  “He died,” Travis said in a froggy voice among his sniffles, looking up to Sal.

  “I’m sorry, little man.” Sal glanced down to Travis, holding onto his gaze. “That must have been really hard to lose your father.” His voice and otherwise ruined face exuded empathy. “What was his name?”

  “Stanley Broadmoor, and this is the medal he earned for being brave.” Travis said resolutely, pridefully pointing to the lapel of his shirt where he wore the heavy Purple Heart.

  Sal stopped so abruptly upon hearing this, Lexi almost ran into him. Facing both of them, he asked, “Stanley Broadmoor was your father?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “Abe will be happy to hear you both made it. He’s been expecting you.”

  ~~~

  “Those shits killed my brotha!” hollered Clyde, spittle flying from his lips. “I want ‘em all dead.”

  “Hang on, boss. Dey gots a lot of firepowah. And dat fence will be hard to get over if der watching,” his second in charge offered tentatively, like a cowboy trying to calm a raging bronco.

  Clyde pounded the table in his burnt house. “Fuck!”

  He dropped his head into his arms and sobbed.

  His men stood around him in his blackened home, water still dripping from the ceiling, a dead fish sucked up from the river water they used to extinguish the fire on the kitchen floor.

  They waited for their orders, wanting revenge for their boss, but not wanting to wind up dead like Zach and two others who had been killed as a result of that little bitch and her brother.

  After a couple of minutes, Clyde raised his head and scowled at his Number Two. “I don’t care what you do. You figure out a plan for us to kill every one of those bastards. Now leabmealone.”

  They all scurried out of his house like field mice, into the sun, and planned their revenge.

  ~~~

  “I’m Abe. So glad you made it here safe,” said the man standing before them.

  Lexi and Travis had gotten help from Leo, a skinny young man with a dark complexion and amiable manner. Sal had handed them off to him, and asked that he get them cleaned up and then give them a tour of the grounds until Abe was available.

  Lexi wasn’t sure what to say. Everyone was so kind and helpful here. And all because of their father’s friendship with this mystery man, Abe, who they’d been hoping would provide them safety in this crazy new world where their father was dead and nothing worked.

  “I’m Lexi, and this is my brother, Travis.” She shook his hand enthusiastically. “Very pleased to meet you.”

  He took a seat next to them at a picnic table outside in the sunshine. Leo was rewrapping the bandages on her feet.

  “Did you know our dad?” Travis asked, watching him carefully. The boy had a bandage above his eyebrow—a deep scratch from their escape through the woods—that stuck out like a pitched tent as he waited for an answer. She had only seen this face when he was questioning something he didn’t fully accept.

  “I did. He and I … well, we’ve been friends all of our lives. He told me you might be coming here. I’m so sorry to hear what happened.”

  “How did you know we were coming?” Travis’s chin scrunched in, almost making him look comical. He’ll never be a card player when he grows up—if he grows up.

  “He sent a text two days ago and said that you might stop by. I expected to hear from him, and when I didn’t, I assumed he might have sent you here if there was trouble.”

  “You mean like the end of the world?” It was Lexi’s turn to be inquisitive, although she regretted that her question came out so snarky.

  “Most especially for that reason.” Abe rose from the table. “I have a few things I need to attend to. But I’ll check in with you later when you’ve had time to rest and settle in. Please, consider this your home now.”

  “But, you’ll be able to get us to our real hom
e in Arizona, won’t you? Daddy said you’d take us there or to another friend’s house in Texas, who would help us get home.” Lexi felt herself panic, just a little. She so wanted to be home.

  “Yes, of course, that is what I meant. But you make yourself home here, until it is safe. Then, we’ll go to Tucson, together.” He looked over to Leo, who had just finished her other foot. “I leave you in capable hands.” He turned and walked away.

  They watched him march over to a small house, maybe no bigger than their garage in Tucson. And like it, this house also had a large antenna tower abutting it, with many antennas on top, jutting out in all directions, and a tangle of wires like vines from large willow trees flowed into the house. Abe spoke briefly to another man coming from the other direction and then closed the door behind him.

  A thought lingered in Lexi’s mind. It seemed strange to her that Abe, their father’s friend, never asked how he died. She’d have wanted to know, if she were him.

  Leo laced up Lexi’s boot, and then thrust his hands into the air like a rodeo star who’d just finished roping a calf. “Wadda say we go see the grounds now?”

  ~~~

  “Sir.” A man rose quickly from the chair, pulling off his headphones, when he saw Abe enter.

  “Anything?” Abe asked.

  The man grabbed a note pad and flipped to the first two pages of meticulous handwriting. “Mostly chatter from ham radio operators throughout the country. I made some notes here so you can review if you’d like, but nothing relevant to our cause. Oh,” he looked back up at his boss, “Sara called twice. She’s worried about”—he looked back at his notes—“and I quote, ‘about Stan and the kids’.” He handed him the pad and walked to the door.

  “Thank you.” Abe sat in the black swivel chair and waited for the click of the door closing before putting on his headphones.

  Abe twirled the dial of the Kenwood transceiver to their frequency and clicked the microphone button, leaning into it.

  “Sara, are you there? This is Abe.”

  He waited, but not for long.

  “Abe, so glad you called back. Have you heard from Stan? He left with the kids three days ago. I thought he might be headed your way, even though you two hadn’t spoken in years. And I know things are crazy with the nuclear attack and all. Anyway, I’m just worried. Have you heard anything from them?”

  Abe looked at the picture of Lexi and Travis sitting on a shelf right above his radio equipment. It was sent to him from Sara recently. Although it showed the two of them just twelve months ago, they both looked older, more mature.

  He clicked on the microphone. “Hello Sara. I’m sorry, but no I haven’t heard from Stan or the kids. But I’m sure they’re fine.”

  “I hope you’re right. I’m so worried about our brother, and our niece and nephew.”

  Chapter 24

  The Broadmoors

  41 years earlier

  The father of three plunged the accelerator of his Mercedes to the floor, whipping the black sedan up to an unsafe speed, desperately trying to navigate their way to the airport and avoid striking one of the many pedestrians clogging this Damascus artery. His children’s freedom depended on his speed and precision, and of course a little good fortune granted by Allah would be helpful.

  Feisal swerved at the last second, pulling around a large group of men standing in the middle of the street, before straightening his path and shooting down the final stretch to the airport. He glanced into the back seat to make sure this last turn wasn’t too jarring to his wife and the kids. She looked up with swollen eyes, clinging to their two-year-old daughter, Saraphene, on her lap. His two boys were book-ended against her, a tangled mass of arms holding each other erect in the seat.

  Feisal glanced momentarily to the heavens, once again mentally beckoning Allah to intervene into their fate and get them there safely; although, even that probably wouldn’t be enough. They’d have to be very lucky for the private plane he’d hired to make it out of the country, only a few minutes after Syria and Egypt had just invaded Israel. He checked the sky again, this time for Zion’s Mirage fighters.

  He also knew that once the news spread, the streets would swell like pus in a boil, filling with men, women, and children, cheering their government’s fight against the Zionists to their south.

  It was worse than he could have imagined.

  Feisal tugged heavily on the wheel once again, and brought the speed down to navigate around another large group flowing into this normally busy street.

  Feisal didn’t care about the politics of his government, and certainly didn’t care whether his country attempted to take over Israel. He had nothing against them, never completely believing the propaganda they were fed. He just wanted to keep his family safe. He had wealth, which gave them a comfortable lifestyle. This was the benefit of their connections to their leader, Hafez al-Assad. But he was fearful that they were going to awaken a sleeping giant and lose the war. And with Damascus sure to be in Israel’s cross hairs, he wasn’t about to take any chances, especially with his kids.

  He balled up his fist and pounded the horn as another group swarmed around them, bringing them to a halt. He pounded and touched his gas pedal, inching the car forward, nudging two men in front of the car pumping their fists and holding a banner in Arabic that said “Death to Israel.” Both their heads turned and they yelled foulness at his windshield, but they got out of the way, and Feisal urged the sedan back up to 5 miles per hour.

  At the airport gate manned by armed guards, Feisal rolled down the window and handed the guard his papers and his children’s travel documents.

  The guard snatched them and marched over to another guard in the guard shack, who glared at them before drawing a phone to his ear. His lips moved, as he appeared to be talking to someone about their situation. He nodded and then handed the papers back to the first guard, who handed them to Feisal and waved them inside the now open gate.

  Feisal raced around the outer edge of the airport fencing to an area only the highest in government were allowed to access. There were several cars in front of him; they were late. But he could see their plane and his closest friend, David Broadmoor, was standing beside it. Within a few minutes, they were at the ramp. It was the moment his wife and he both wanted and dreaded at the same time.

  Feisal embraced his friend, thanking him for doing this for his family. He turned to his children. They were tearfully hugging their mother, who was unwilling to let go. When they did, Fiesal hugged his children and made them promise to be good, to live good lives and take care of one another. When he released them for a final time, perhaps the last time as long as he was alive, they walked slowly to David.

  “Hello kids, my name is David. You’re going to come live with me for a while in America. For fun, I’ve given each of you American names. You will be called Sara,” he said to the two-year-old in his arms. “And you will be called Abe,” he said to the middle child. “And you, the eldest, will be called Stanley.”

  Chapter 25

  July 6th

  Lexi and Travis

  “Where’s the gun?” Lexi whispered to herself, not wanting to wake her brother in the bunk next to hers.

  She had just woken after the best sleep she could remember: interrupted only once, she thought by the sound of gun shots. It was just the remnant of a nightmare, actually many nightmares, which seemed to have passed. The light from the single window finally woke her and she had felt like reading more from the Prepper Brothers book her father left her. She promised herself she’d learn all the survival knowledge the book contained within the next few days, so that she’d be better prepared. She dressed and then, picking up the pack, she noticed it felt lighter. Possibly it felt that way because she had rested after lugging the damn thing around on her shoulders for the last two days. Or was she just being paranoid? She checked the front pocket for the gun, and confirmed it was gone.

  Scraping around in the dark recesses of her memories, she tried to recall i
f she had left the bag’s front pouch open or had not secured it in a way that would have caused the gun to have been accidentally dumped out. But it was zippered shut now, and all the other items were still in there: her father’s wallet, cell phone, note pad and pen.

  Someone took it.

  Since she’d put it away, before arriving at Abe’s place, it had to have been taken by him or one of his people. Maybe it was for her own safety, or theirs; She would ask them about this later.

  Lexi undid the top main compartment clasp, stretched the opening and dumped the bag’s contents onto the bed. She didn’t expect the gun to magically appear there, but maybe she just wanted to be sure before she said something to Abe.

  Running her hand through the items—she was becoming more familiar with the bag’s contents—she confirmed that the gun definitely wasn’t there and nothing else had been taken. An image splashed upon the back wall of her mind.

  Was the knife missing too?

  She turned the bag so that its front faced her. Besides the lower pouch that held her pistol, there were three other openings: the middle pouch which she’d examine right after, a sleeve on one side that held a water bottle, and finally the sleeve with the knife. She slid out the black Gerber survival knife again, examining its folded blade with ridges—she didn’t know what these were used for, but intended to find out. As she slid her thumb along the back of the knife, the blade popped out very quickly and clicked in a fully extended position. After fiddling with it for a minute, she figured out how to unlock the blade and fold it closed and then she tried to pop it open again.

  After practicing a few times, she could pop it open instantly. Each time, she held it as if she would use it on someone, wishing someone was there to teach her how. She closed the blade and then slid it down inside her jeans, clipping it over the waistband. It felt cool, and in away, comforting there, only slightly exposed. Dropping the edge of her shirt over this, she had a hidden lethal weapon. In this world, even here, a girl couldn’t be too careful.