Gathering Home

by JEFF MOTES

  “Will’s radio is likely dead, and he’s probably having truck trouble, but let’s stay on our toes just in case. I have a pass into Jackson that Ben gave me. With the weapons and body armor we have, we’re likely to get delayed, maybe even turned away, regardless of the pass. I suggest we take Toddtown Road and go through Maubila. Did you guys armor your truck?”

  Ryan grins. “Sure did. We have a regular redneck APC. The ¾-ton suspension of the truck along with the helper springs keep it from sagging too much.”

  In the back of the truck is a wood frame sheathed in plywood about a foot from the inside sides of the bed. The voided area is packed with sandbags. I nod approvingly.

  “We also packed the doorframes and around the fuel tank,” Ryan says.

  “Good thinking. Too bad I didn’t think of it the other day. It might have helped two other people out.”

  “What? Who?”

  “I’ll tell you another time. Let’s go.” I climb up front with Ryan. Ted gets in the sandbox in the back.

  As Ryan pulls out onto the paved road, Dad and Mrs. Barnes turn up my drive. They wave as we pass.

  “What is it with you Carter boys and Barnes girls?” Ryan asks with a smile.

  I laugh. “I need to see Brother Benson when we get back. I’ve got a little work for him.”

  “If you’re wanting to see Brother Benson, you are going to have a long wait. He was in New Orleans when the EMP happened. We haven’t seen or heard from him since.”

  My heart skips a beat. Brother Benson is never coming back. I talked with him before about being prepared, even about keeping some supplies in his car. He would always respond, “I’m putting my faith in the Lord. He will provide.”

  I always thought that was a pathetic excuse. Yes, the Lord will provide. He provides most people with the ability to think and to plan and to take care of themselves. “From whom much is given, much is required.” That scripture always pops into my mind when I hear people spew, “The Lord will provide.” How many will sit before God on judgement day and have to give an account for why their families needlessly suffered when God gave them the tools to provide for themselves?

  Sensing my change of mood, Ryan says, “Hey, man, you’ll figure something out. Let’s get the kids home first. I’ll be your preacher if you need me to.”

  Ryan has always had a way of cutting the tension. I grin and pat him on the shoulder. “Thanks, man, we’ll see. How about Pastor Scott? Is he around?”

  “Yeah, I saw him yesterday.”

  Ryan stops short of the Nevada checkpoint and makes a call. After giving the codes for the day, we’re allowed to pass through. The truck is heavy with all the extra weight of the sand, and it doesn’t handle the same as an empty truck. Ryan is being especially careful, driving slowly.

  “No need to shake Ted up too bad,” he says. “We might need him later.”

  All three of us are constantly scanning, on alert for threats and anything out of the ordinary. Well, out of the new ordinary. The new ordinary includes stalled vehicles on the roads, houses with doors and windows open, kids out working in the gardens, and people walking along the road carrying rifles and pistols.

  About half an hour later, we pull up to US43. The bodies from yesterday are still there. Nobody has moved them. The buzzards are having a feast.

  “Geez!” Ryan says.

  “I’m sorry, man,” I reply. “There wasn’t anything I could do about it. If it wasn’t for the biker threat, we could get a backhoe up here and bury them. Maybe we can do something when we get back. I’ll operate the backhoe if I can get a security detail.”

  “I think I might throw up,” Ryan says. He turns north and speeds up. It’s only a short distance to Maubila Road. Turning on it, Ryan has to slow way down. The road is always in bad shape, worse now since it was overdue for a road grade before The Day. It won’t likely see any road maintenance for a long time.

  Ted taps the cab twice, the signal to stop. When Ryan comes to a stop, Ted jumps off and starts hurling his breakfast. Ryan and I are right behind him.

  “I’m going to have nightmares,” Ted says. “Buzzards eating on humans! Just ain’t right.”

  While we have to come up with a way to get the county pulling together, those plans will have to wait for now. More pressing things are at hand. I bring my mind back to focus on the task at hand. I can’t let anything distract us from our mission to bring Lizzy and Will home.

  Ted climbs in the sandbox. “Go easy, Ryan. I still might throw up.” He taps the cab three times, and Ryan starts back down the road.

  It takes nearly an hour to travel Maubila Road.

  “I think on the way back, we should take Walker Springs Road into Jackson,” Ryan says. “It can’t take any longer than this, even if we get delayed at the checkpoints.”

  “I agree.”

  Ryan takes a right onto Allen Walker Road. Shortly, we come up to a roadblock. We stop about fifty yards in front.

  “Let’s be on our toes.” On the radio, I call, “Goose, what do you see?”

  “Tinman, I’m seeing two cars blocking the road and two armed men behind them,” Ted says into his radio. “Can’t tell if there are any more. One is talking into a radio. Out.”

  “Ryan, I think I should approach on foot and see what’s up. You guard the perimeter and let Ted take over-watch.”

  “All right. I’ll fill Ted in. The code for attack is bingo.”

  “Yes, I remember. I’m going to leave my rifle.”

  I get out of the truck and walk towards the barricade with my hands slightly out from my sides.

  Shortly, I hear Ted calling. “Tinman, I spot three more armed men heading for the roadblock. Out.”

  I don’t respond, not wanting my hands reaching for the mic to be misconstrued as an offensive gesture. A voice calls from behind one of the cars.

  “That’s close enough. State your name and your business for wanting to pass here. Keep your hands where I can see them.”

  “My name is John Carter. I’m going to Jimmy Wright’s place to pick up my son.”

  A different man steps up and around the car. It’s Ezell James, nowadays referred to as Pastor Ezell. There is a fresh bandage high up on his arm. Most of the other guys have bandages as well. He walks directly to me, and we embrace.

  “John, it’s good to see you.”

  “It’s good to see you too, Ezell. I’ve come to get my son from Jimmy Wright’s. What happened to you guys?”

  “That’s a fine boy you have there, John. I saw him day before yesterday. In fact, I thought he was going to leave Jimmy’s place and head home with Lizzy. Guess he changed his mind. He’s been helping the Wrights and others around here. You done good, John. He’s a man of his own. We had a motorcycle gang come through here earlier. They sent two front guys in deputy uniforms, and that caused us to lower our guard. A big mistake. They attacked in force, and we have a lot of injured men we’re tending to.”

  “Repose lost contact with Will a few days ago,” I say. “I’ve come to get him and Lizzy.”

  “The biker gang went south. I don’t know where they’re headed. We have too many hurt to pursue. Be on your toes, John. There’s at least a dozen of them, maybe more. Everything happened so fast, I couldn’t count. We’re beefing up in case they return.” Ezell calls out to his men, “Let them through.”

  Reaching for my mic button, I call, “Tinman to Maverick. All clear. Proceed forward. Confirm. Out.”

  Ryan responds, “Maverick to Tinman. All clear. Proceeding forward. Out.”

  I follow Ezell through the roadblock. “How is Will?”

  “We’ve had trouble. Or I should say Jimmy Wright has had lots of trouble. Will has had to…take action.” He stops walking and looks directly at me. “John, he’s had to kill some bad men.”

  I’m stunned and pained at the same time.

  Oh, Will. How I wish you could have been spared this terrible pain.

  Yet I knew if such a time as we find our
selves ever came, he would have to take action to survive, and I’ve trained him to that end. Still, why didn’t he ask for help from Repose? I don’t understand.

  “How’s he handling it?” I ask.

  “He’s holding up well. The boy has a deep-rooted sense of right from wrong. I wish all our young men had been taught and trained like that.”

  Ryan drives up, and I get in the truck.

  “I’ve already called the roadblock toward Jimmy’s place letting them know to allow you to pass through now and when you return from Jimmy’s,” Ezell says. “Take care, John. I’ll be praying for you and your family.”

  “You too, Ezell.”

  Ryan drives off. “You know, with the way Ezell was in high school, I never would have figured him as a pastor.”

  “You never know what might happen if you rely upon the One who holds you in His hand.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I know. Maybe one day, John. Maybe one day.”

  We pass through the next roadblock without being hindered.

  “A mile up ahead,” Ryan says. “Mailbox 12500.”

  “Ryan, do you know the address to everybody in the county?”

  He laughs. “Almost everybody. If you’ve been delivering packages nearly every workday for the past fifteen years, you would, too.”

  Ryan turns down a narrow dirt drive. A nice brick house is set back from some trees, and a large backyard extends on toward the distant tree line. It’s a nicer house than most. It’s what I would expect from somebody like Jimmy. He was always on top of his game at the Mill. He’s a competent engineer, though I had few personal dealings with him. Will’s truck is in the yard with two flat tires. Not far from the truck are two dead men wearing deputy uniforms. Ryan stops the truck, and we get out.

  “Ted,” I say, “keep a lookout.”

  Ryan and I check the dead men. Each have multiple gunshots to the body and head. I gaze toward the house searching for any signs of movement. The front door and windows are open.

  I switch to our tactical channel and push the PTT button. “Tinman to Mickey.” A radio squeals not far away.

  “I hear it, John, but I don’t see anybody,” Ryan says.

  “Tinman to Mickey,” I repeat.

  “It’s coming from the tree line over there.” Ryan points.

  “Watch the house. I’m going to take a look.”

  Cautiously, I approach the direction where the noise came from. Will’s radio is laying on the ground still attached to the wire antenna, the battery almost dead. I switch it off, put it in my catch-all pouch, and return to Ryan. “Let’s go check the house out,” I say. “Ted, keep watch.”

  Ted gives me a thumbs up.

  We approach the house, and I call out, “Jimmy Wright, this is John Carter. Will, are you in there?”

  No response. I try again. “Will, Lizzy, are you in there?”

  I hear what sounds like a muffled voice.

  In the mic, I call, “Tinman to Goose, we are entering the house. Confirm.”

  “Goose to Tinman. Confirm you are entering the structure. Your six is clear. Out.”

  I give Ryan the signal to move forward. We move into the house just as we trained. I’m in the lead; Ryan is bringing up the rear and watching our back. We clear the living room, then move in a counterclockwise movement to clear the downstairs. Sounds of movement come from the kitchen. We approach cautiously.

  I’m stunned by what we find. Lynn is sitting on the floor handcuffed to a closet door, blood on her face. She shrinks away in fear, pulling her knees up and turning to the side. She’s naked from the waist down. I see pants and panties on the floor. Picking them up, I hand them to her.

  “Lynn, I’m John Carter. Will’s dad. Where are Will and Lizzy?”

  She takes the clothes from my hand and starts putting them on. With her hand cuffed, she has to stand to do so. I look away.

  “They aren’t here. They left with Tom Hickman earlier.” Her voice is strained.

  “Is there anybody here besides you?”

  “No. They took Jimmy. I’m the only one here.”

  “Who took Jimmy?”

  “I don’t know who they are. I thought they were deputies, but they weren’t. Jimmy took them to Tom Hickman’s.”

  “I know where he lives,” Ryan says. “It’s a mile down the road.”

  “No,” Lynn says, “they went to Tom’s camp in Carlton.”

  Ryan shakes his head. “I don’t know where that is.”

  “I do, and I can take you,” Lynn says.

  “All right, Lynn,” I say. “We’re going to clear the rest of the house then get you out of these cuffs somehow.”

  Ryan and I clear the downstairs, then the upstairs. Nobody else is here.

  “We need to find a pair of bolt cutters,” I say when we return to the kitchen.

  “Here, use this.” Ryan hands me a plastic cuff key. I look at him in surprise. He shrugs. “Just in case.”

  “Let Ted know everything is clear and get ready to leave,” I instruct.

  Ryan starts talking into the radio while I unlock the cuff. Lynn rubs her wrist. Her expression is like the one on Casandra’s face when I first talked with her. She hugs me close. Her embrace is long, and I feel the fear radiating from her body. I reassure her as best I can.

  “You’re all right, Lynn. We aren’t going to let anybody hurt you.”

  “Thank you. I know you won’t. Amy is with Will and Lizzy. Let me clean my face and…and …change clothes, then I’ll take you to Tom Hickman’s cabin.”

  I curse softly under my breath. More bastards need to die. When she returns to the living room, the blood has been washed from her face, revealing a swelling red mark on the right side of her mouth and cheek.

  “Your truck is completely out of fuel, and two tires are flat,” Ryan says.

  “We’ll come back for it later. I sense urgency in what we need to do.”

  “Do you think it’s a good idea to take her with us?” Ryan asks.

  “Actually, I don’t, but unless you know how to find Tom Hickman’s camp, it’s the only way we are going to find Will and Lizzy.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  Chapter 62

  Lizzy

  Flash Bang!

  Day 13

  Will is sitting at the end of the hall, his head in his hands. He’s been through so much. We all have.

  “It’s going to be okay, Will,” I say, trying to comfort him. “You only did what you had to do. I trust you.”

  He raises his head, and his eyes meet mine. “Lizzy, I’m making too many mistakes. I’m sorry. I’m not the man I need to be.”

  “Will, you are a good man. I don’t think many men could do what you’ve had to do. I trust you, Will, and I need you.”

  “Mr. Harris was a good man, and now because he helped us, he’s gone.”

  The screen door to the front porch squeaks open then slams closed.

  “I’ll be right back,” I say.

  I leave his side and go to the front door. Mr. Hickman is on the porch talking. Out in the yard is Mr. Wright!

  “Will,” I call out, “come quick. Mr. Wright is in the front yard.”

  Will comes from the hall, his carbine in hand. “Lizzy, get away from the door!”

  Gunfire erupts, and Mr. Hickman falls back into the screen door, ripping the screen in the lower section. I hit the floor. Glass and pieces of wood are flying all around. Will grabs me and pulls me behind the large wood heater.

  “Stay here!” he hollers. He crawls to Mr. Hickman, grabs a strap on his vest, and starts pulling him further into the house.

  Suddenly, the firing stops.

  “Mrs. Hickman, are you okay?” Will calls out. “Amy! Heather!”

  “We’re okay,” Mrs. Sue calls out.

  Will is trying to get Mr. Hickman’s sling from around his neck. “Everybody, get your gun. They’re going to rush the house!” His eyes meet mine again. “I’m sorry, Lizzy.�
��

  A small can is tossed through the window. Will curses for the first time, then covers my body with his. A flash erupts and a bang so bright and so loud I feel like I’m blown apart. I can’t see, and I can’t hear. Where am I? What’s going on?

  Men’s voices from far off are cursing. Will is pulled off of me. Rough hands grab me and yank me to my feet. Everything seems to be moving in slow motion. A woman is standing in front of me screaming, though her voice sounds so faint. I’m having trouble keeping my balance. She grabs a handful of my hair and drags me towards the door. As she walks by, she grabs a handful of Heather’s hair, yanking her forward too.

  Where is everybody? Where is Will? Where are Amy and Mrs. Sue? I see Will. He’s struggling but is quickly overpowered. Then I’m outside. Gradually, sounds and motions pick up intensity and speed.

  The woman dragging us by the hair is cursing and using all manner of vulgarities. I’ve never heard a woman say those kinds of things. More motorcycles are in the yard, and more men are moving about.

  Then I see him. Mr. Wright is lying on the ground looking into the sky. A single round hole is in his forehead.

  Will is thrown hard from the porch to the ground. Before he can rise, another man has grabbed him, standing him up and holding him from behind. A giant, balding man covered in tattoos steps out of the house and down the porch steps.

  He walks over to Will and shouts, “Where is your father!”

  Chapter 63

  John

  Dad!

  Day 13

  It takes nearly an hour to drive the rough dirt roads to the turnoff for Tom Hickman’s camp.

  “Down this road is Tom’s camp,” Lynn says. “Maybe a half mile.”

  “Ryan, let’s drive about a quarter mile and find a place to hide the truck in the woods. We’ll go the rest of the way on foot.”

  “Sounds good.” Ryan turns down the road.

  “Lynn, when we stop, I want you to stay with the truck.”

  “No, John! I want to go, too!”