Holding Their Own VII: Phoenix Star

by Nobody, Joe

  We were touring the southwest when the world went crazy, enjoying our retirement years, and taking in the sights. During those terrible last days on the road, we were unable to find food, fuel or the prescription medications we both require. We decided to come back here, and only with the guiding hand of the good Lord did we make it. The truck was on empty for the last several miles.

  We’ve enjoyed our second honeymoon here at Perilous Falls. It has been peaceful, beautiful, and calming. Bobbie and I couldn’t ask for a better ending to what has been a long and happy marriage.

  These last few days have proven difficult. Our health is deteriorating, and food is running low. We’ve done without the generator for a few nights, but the weather continues to grow hotter. Her cough is out of control, and I can’t continue without her. We have been saving some strong narcotic prescriptions for just such a time.

  As I leave this final message, Bobbie and I are going to take one last walk down the trail to the falls. We’ve talked it over, and both of us agree that today is the day. Neither of us is sure we’ll be able to make it tomorrow.

  You are welcome to anything we’ve left behind. If it helps you through these troubled times, then we will smile in heaven. God bless.

  Terri lowered the letter, a tear streaming down her cheek. “Oh, Bishop,” she said.

  The couple hugged for a moment, and then Bishop nodded toward the trail leading off the lot. He walked over and picked up the shovel. “I’m going to go and lay them to rest. I think you and Hunter will be safe here. Stay close to the truck, and keep that rifle handy.”

  Terri nodded, watching as he headed for the path.

  He walked a half mile before he found them. There was a park bench, strategically placed to overlook the falls. It was the dry season, so there wasn’t any water. Only the smooth face of rock was visible indicating where there would be a cascade during the wetter months.

  Animals and the elements had scattered their remains, with a few bleached, yellow bones still resting on the bench. Bishop shook his head when he noticed two skeletal hands, one wearing a wedding ring, still entwined in a loving embrace. He imagined the couple taking the overdose, sitting on the bench and holding each other until the end came.

  “I hope Terri and I go as peacefully,” he whispered to the bones. “I pray we have as many years together, and it ends in such a beautiful place.”

  There wasn’t anywhere to dig a grave, nothing but thin soil covering solid rock. He gently gathered as much of their remains as he could find on a flat area of bare stone. It took an hour to pile enough rocks to cover them, the final resting place within view of what would be a nice waterfall in a few months.

  One grave for two people, Bishop thought. Somehow, I think Ernie and Bobbie would approve of that. He pulled the folded note from the couple out of his pants pocket and read it one last time before traveling the trail. “Maybe one day I can bring some peace of mind to those sons of yours, Ernie.” He sighed, overcome by the senseless deaths of the older couple, refolded the paper and slipped it in his pocket for safekeeping.

  The Texan returned, his expression melancholy and tired. “I found them,” he informed a curious Terri, “and gave them a proper resting place.”

  “That was so sweet, Bishop. Are the falls pretty?”

  “They will be after the next rain. There’s no water right now – just bare, smooth rock.”

  “Dang.”

  Bishop nodded toward an empty side of the lot. “I don’t want to stay here long, but we both need some rest. Besides, I want to do most of our driving at night. I’m going to set up the camper over there, and we can take turns getting some shuteye.”

  Terri put her hand on his shoulder and said, “You are the one who needs sleep right now. I’ll take the first watch while you snooze for a couple of hours.”

  “Deal.”

  It was the smell of cooking food that woke him. The sun was just above the mountains in the west, and he immediately realized that Terri had let him sleep through his shift. Rising gingerly and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he opened the camper door and peeked outside.

  “Wakie, wakie, eggs and bakie,” Terri giggled from the nearby fire.

  “I knew you were going to let me sleep before I even went horizontal. While I love you for that, you need rest, too.”

  She dismissed his concern with a wave of her hand, “I can sleep in the truck while you’re driving. You’ve had a rough start to our trip and looked tired. Besides, I’ve been telling Hunter campfire ghost stories.”

  “Oh, great. Who’s going to calm him at zero-dark-thirty after the nightmares?” he teased, not really expecting an answer. “What’s cooking?”

  “The last of the steak and some rice. I wanted to use the meat before it went bad. The camper shell gets pretty hot, and I’m not sure how long things are going to last in there.”

  “We’ll be in high country on this next leg. The temperature should cool down quite a bit.”

  “Who would have thought it would take an apocalypse for us to have time to tour the southwest?” Terri’s voice carried a child-like curiosity. “Do you think there will be snow on the mountaintops? I’ve not seen snow in years.”

  “Could be. It is July though, so maybe it’s not the right time of year.”

  “Well,” Terri remarked, her hands on her hips, “clearly, I am going to have to have a chat with my travel agent when we get home. First, no water over the Perilous Falls, now no snow – all because we are traveling in the off season.”

  About then, Bishop noticed a cup of some liquid sitting near the fire. He picked it up and sniffed. “What’s that?” he asked, wrinkling his nose at the unfamiliar scent. “Please tell me that is not lunch.”

  Terri nodded toward the baby, “He’s been sitting in the car seat too much. There’s a rash on his bottom. One of the church ladies told me to use thyme, brew it like tea, and rub some on his backside. While you were sleeping, I went to the other campsite and found some Bobbie had growing in her little herb garden. I hope it works, or we’re going to have one fussy boy on our hands.”

  “Thyme?” Bishop asked. “I had no idea.”

  Terri nodded, “She told me her mom used it back before all the fancy diaper rash crèmes were available… claimed it was antibacterial and antifungal. Can’t hurt to try. I’ll check Hunter’s rash again in the morning and see if it worked.”

  They ate in silence, Hunter snoozing nearby on a blanket, the crackle of the fire hypnotizing. After finishing the meal, Terri did the dishes while Bishop closed up the camper. It was dusk when they headed out of the park.

  Alliance Territory, Northern Border

  July 30

  “Is that a truck engine I hear?” asked one of the sentries.

  His partner raised his head, tilting an ear so he could hear. “Sounds like it to me.”

  The two men scrambled from the pickup, taking positions in fortified bunkers made of sandbags and scrap timber. Thoughts of the attack on Midland Station were fresh in their minds as they readied their weapons.

  The older man hovered a thumb over a radio, mindful that their primary job was to warn of any incursion. His companion was scanning the highway to the north through his rifle optic, trying to identify the source of the noise in the fading light.

  “I’ve got a single semi-truck… pulling a flatbed trailer that appears to be full of… full of people.”

  The radio operator raised a pair of binoculars, the one-word, urgent question of “Soldiers?” escaping his lips.

  “No,” replied his friend, an eye still glued to his optic. “Refugees.”

  Exhaling, the older man keyed the radio, “This is checkpoint Charlie. We have a single truck full of people, no apparent weapons, approaching from the north, over.”

  “I read you loud and clear, Sid. How many? Over.”

  “Estimate 20-30 total. Looks like a pretty ragged bunch. Over,” the sentry reported.

  “Gotcha. Check’em out, and if ever
ything looks okay, send them to the reception center. I’ll let the volunteers know we have new neighbors on the way.”

  The younger guard looked at his partner, “Been a while since we had a big group like this. I wonder what their story is?”

  Still studying the approaching truck via magnification, Sid speculated, “I bet it’s not good. Do you still have those jugs of water? They might be thirsty.”

  “Yeah. He’s slowing down – that’s a good sign.”

  Cole had been focusing on the fuel gauge, watching its ever-persistent movement toward the capital “E.” They had stopped 30 miles back, giving all the travelers a chance to relieve themselves and stretch cramped legs. Now he was worried they were going to have to use those legs again.

  A handmade sign appeared in the roadway, the neat letters ordering him to slow down. A few hundred yards later, another warned him that he was approaching an Alliance checkpoint. “Be prepared to stop.”

  A third warning became visible in the Kenworth’s headlights; “Unload all weapons before approaching.” He rolled down the window as he slowed, yelling back for everyone to follow the instructions. He prayed this wasn’t a trap, but the location was right where Bishop said they would encounter friendlies.

  A pickup blocking the road was the next indication of civilization. One man was standing in the center of the pavement waving a flashlight. He had a military-looking rifle slung over his shoulder. Cole rolled to a stop, and the man approached the cab.

  “Good evening,” the sentry greeted.

  “Nice night,” Cole responded.

  “What brings you to Alliance territory?” the guard asked, as if it wasn’t obvious.

  Bishop had coached Cole on the exchange, and now the truck driver appreciated the lesson. “We are a lightly armed group of displaced persons. A man named Bishop and his wife Terri informed us that we would be welcomed here.”

  “Bishop?” the guard seemed surprised. “You’ve been in contact with Bishop and Terri?”

  “Yes, sir. We left them in New Mexico this morning.”

  Another sentry appeared, ambling along the opposite side of the flatbed, nodding and smiling at the curious faces that appeared over the railing. He scanned the passengers with a flashlight, focusing mostly on the assortment of luggage and personal effects. “Looks okay back here, Sid,” the guard called out.

  “Do your people need water or emergency medical care?” Sid asked.

  “No… no I think we’re all right. Tired, wind burned and hungry, but other than that I think everyone is fine.”

  Sid produced a map, stepping up onto the big-rig’s running board and handing it to the driver. Cole scanned the document while the sentry explained. “We have a reception center to welcome new arrivals. We are a free society, operating under rule of law. You will receive help, food, shelter, and instructions at the center. Please don’t deviate from the route on the map. There’s been a little trouble lately, and our citizens are still nervous.”

  Relief flushed through Cole’s frame – everything was just as Bishop had promised. “Thank you, sir. You have no idea what we’ve been through. This is like a dream come true.”

  Sid nodded as several voices from the trailer echoed Cole’s words. After the gratitude settled down, Sid looked up at the driver and said, “Could I have your name, sir? I’m sure my boss will want to talk to you about Bishop and Terri.”

  “My name is Cole,” came the response. “Oh, and I have a note Bishop gave me to deliver to a man named Nick.”

  Sid smiled knowingly. “I’m sure Nick is one of the first people you’ll meet in Alpha. Drive safely, and please don’t wander off that route.”

  As he watched the truck roll past the checkpoint, Sid again keyed the radio. “Someone get Nick – the driver of this truck has a note from Bishop. They are on their way to the center; the driver’s name is Cole.”

  “Will do,” came the response.

  Nick was just finishing his supper when the radio on the kitchen counter squawked on the command frequency. “What now,” he mumbled to Diana as he pushed back from the table.

  “What’s up,” he said gruffly into the microphone.

  “There’s a truckload of refugees heading to the center. They just passed checkpoint Charlie. The driver, a man named Cole, claims to have a note for you – a note from Bishop.”

  Nick’s eyebrows went north, the unexpected news causing him to smile for the first time all day. “Thanks. I’ll head over that way.”

  Diana was already bending over to pull on her shoes, her expression showing excitement. “It’s like a letter from an old friend arriving in the mail,” she commented.

  “I’m just relieved to hear they’re okay… at least well enough to send a note. Maybe they’re coming back.”

  Alpha’s first couple wasted no time jumping into the electric golf cart parked outside the church’s front steps. As they sped along the dark streets, Diana couldn’t help but be optimistic. “I hope he mentioned how Hunter was doing. I hate it that I didn’t get much cuddle time with that baby before they left.”

  “Don’t expect pictures or anything,” Nick teased. “I’m sure they’ve been too busy to stop and get film developed.”

  Diana laughed at her man’s comment, hanging on as he sped up to the middle school that now acted as the reception center. People were still jumping down from the newly arrived semi when the cart came to a stop.

  Nick asked one of the volunteers where he could find the driver and soon was approaching a middle-aged man busy helping his former passengers with their belongings.

  Extending his hand, the Special Forces alumnus said, “Hi. I’m Nick, and I heard you have a letter for me.”

  Cole accepted the offered greeting, looking Nick up and down. “Bishop was right; you are a big guy.”

  Diana chimed in, “I bet he said more than that, but that’s not important right now. How’s Terri? How’s the baby doing? How big is Hunter now?”

  The rapid-fire question seemed to take Cole aback. Reaching into his pocket, he produced a single sheet of paper. “I didn’t read it,” he said shyly.

  Nick and Diana both reached for the letter, Nick being faster. He started to tease Diana, making as if he was going to turn his back to her and read the note in private. The look on the deacon’s face made him change his mind. Holding it down where they both could see, it read:

  Nick and Diana,

  We are in New Mexico, and it’s already been one hell of a trip. Terri, Hunter, and I are all well. We think about Alpha and the Alliance every day. We’re sure you’re holding down the fort while we are on vacation.

  These new arrivals are good folks. Strong spirits and hearty souls. I’m sure they’ll contribute after settling in.

  Terri sends her love to Diana, Kevin, Pete, and Betty… everyone. Hunter grows stronger every day. The boy is growing like a weed. I am gonna have to keep a close watch on my AR10, cause I swear I caught the boy eying it the other day. A chip off the old block, huh? I’m so proud of him.

  We are heading north and then west to Utah. We look forward to the day when we can return to the ranch. We miss you guys more than you’ll ever know.

  All the best – Bishop, Terri and Hunter

  Nick’s throat became tight, but the tough guy wasn’t about to admit it. “Danged rug rat is already after my favorite rifle,” he managed to grumble.

  Diana looked up after reading the note, her eyes moist. “Nick, I want them back here with us. Fix this. I don’t care what it takes – you fix this as soon as you can. Hear me?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Chapter 8

  New Mexico countryside

  July 30

  There wasn’t any way around the berg. The two-lane highway they were traveling lead right through the heart of town, and Bishop hadn’t seen a side road or farm lane for the last 15 miles.

  He considered going off road for a bit, thinking there had to be a detour, but decided against it. Trespassing, esp
ecially these days, might get a man shot – or worse. Even if they could find a backcountry lane, towing the camper cross-country was stupid. The pickup was already low in the back with the weight of their supplies and the burden on the hitch. Busting an axle or being stuck wouldn’t be good.

  Bishop glanced at his watch and half nodded. At least the hour was on their side. If you wanted to pass through unnoticed, 4 a.m. was probably good timing.

  Letting the truck coast to a stop, he threw the shifter into park and opened the door as quietly as possible. He climbed onto the camper shell, hoping the elevation would provide just a little better view.

  Scanning the distant outline of buildings from the perch, his first reaction was surprise at the size of the place. There were far more structures than he expected, especially given the tiny dot that represented Crawford, New Mexico on the map.

  The night vision revealed more than a few large rooflines, some appearing to be two or three stories tall with the girth of a sizable high school. After focusing the monocle, the purpose of the largest example became clear – a cross mounted on top of a steeple indicating a church.

  Maybe the map is old, he considered. It occurred to him that Crawford may have experienced a boom during the Second Great Depression. They would be about the only ones, he mused.

  Bounding down from the perch, he returned to the driver’s seat to think things through.

  He glanced in the rearview mirror, confirming Terri and Hunter were both still asleep. He hated to do it, but he was going to have to wake his wife. He needed to scout the town on foot before trying to drive through. He needed to know what was ahead before committing his family and their mobile home.