Holding Their Own XI: Hearts and Minds

by Joe Nobody

  Flipping to the next report, his attitude improved.

  The pieces were in place for the grand opening of the new property law. Interviews were lined up with the few operating radio stations, carefully scripted editorials ready to be delivered to a multitude of start-up newspapers.

  Diana Brown would be in Amarillo, hosting one of the larger announcement sessions she had quaintly named, “Town Hall Meetings.” His men were already in place.

  Cameron rose and poured himself a glass of water, sipping the cool liquid as his gaze redirected to the window. “I’m going to be coming home soon, Texas. And when I do, I’m going to show you what true leadership is all about.”

  Chapter 10

  As part of the roll-out plan for the Alliance’s new property laws, Bishop and Terri were tasked with setting an example. When Diana had discovered that the couple had been pre-collapse homeowners, she insisted that they return to Houston and claim their property.

  “A lot of our citizens have heard of you two,” the Alliance leader had stated with beaming confidence. “We need to walk the walk and talk the talk. It will help smooth the roll-out.”

  Bishop, from the beginning, thought it was a bad idea.

  While the couple had traveled extensively throughout the territory since the downfall, those journeys had been performed as part of an entourage or in an official capacity. This would be the first time they ventured back along that original, harrowing bug-out route that had nearly cost them their lives. It would be a voyage through a minefield of harrowing memories.

  If retracing those steps wasn’t emotionally daunting enough, seeing their old home was sure to produce a strong reaction.

  “Haven’t we done enough already?” Bishop had questioned after his wife had relayed Diana’s request.

  “Diana has been a Nervous Nelly over this new law. Folks don’t like change, and with Katherine Baxter stirring the pot, emotions are running high for sure. Plus, Diana wants to make sure it is logistically feasible for folks to be able to travel into the Alliance and make a claim within the timeframe the new law proposes.” The stateswoman paused to give her husband time to mull over her words before continuing. “It’s a small thing to ask of us, and besides, it will be interesting to see how the recovery is progressing. It’s really not a big deal, is it? I mean, together, we can handle anything, my love.”

  The Texan, as usual, was thoroughly trounced in the debate that followed.

  As he loaded the spare gas cans into the pickup, Bishop experienced a mixture of emotions. On one hand, he was proud of his mate and her fearlessness. She seemed more than willing to face what had been the most dangerous and trying episode of their lives. With her usual vigor and energy, Terri had set about planning and packing, almost as if they were preparing to head out on a family vacation.

  Still, Bishop had his doubts.

  From the time the trip had been scheduled, he had wondered if the foreboding cloud that consumed his thoughts was out of concern for his wife’s… or his own well-being. There were some memories better left quarantined in the past.

  While he’d faced danger numerous times during his career in security, the 10 days it had taken them to travel across the post-apocalyptic landscape of Texas had been the first time Terri’s life had been on the line. Bishop had almost lost her on several occasions, and it made him shudder to think about it. How would she react when they retraced their steps? Would the flood of memories consume her?

  Of even greater concern was how the two would respond when they saw their first home after abandoning it.

  The Texan knew their former residence had hosted at least one uninvited guest since they had fled the subdivision. The Colonel, along with his grandchildren and Mrs. Porter, had used their house as a hideout during their escape from Houston. That had been over two years ago, it was likely that their structure was worse for the wear.

  According to his way of thinking, they were volunteering for more trauma, and he couldn’t embrace that. It just wasn’t logical. Terri, on the other hand, didn’t seem to be concerned.

  With Hunter secured in the backseat, two suitcases of clothes, the normal array of firearms and survival gear, Bishop decided to take one last shot at talking his wife out of the adventure.

  The outskirts of Alpha had just disappeared in the rearview mirror when Bishop informed Terri that the truck had been running a little rough as of late. “I hope we don’t have any troubles on the way to Houston,” the Texan remarked in a nonchalant tone. “Even with the recovery, I’m not sure how easy it would be to find a mechanic.”

  “Should we go back and ask Nick for a loaner?”

  Foiled yet again, Bishop’s reply was deflated, “No, it will probably be fine.”

  The miles passed quickly, the couple glancing longingly at the Manor Hotel and Pete’s Place without stopping. Once outside Meraton and rolling east, Bishop began to reconsider his melancholy outlook. Terri had found a decent compact disc of classic rock ‘n roll, her slightly off-key voice happily belting out a favorite tune. Hunter, egged on by his mother, did his best to provide backup vocals.

  All of that changed as they approached Sanderson. Terri abruptly stopped her serenade, silently staring at the abandoned structures where Bishop had almost died of a gunshot wound.

  “It looks even smaller and… and… so lonely now,” she mumbled. “I thought I’d lost you that first night. Then I thought we were both going to die of dehydration.”

  Bishop smiled, “You came through. You saw the devil and rather than fold up and quit, you faced the challenge and prevailed. I always knew you were a strong person, but that little episode showed an inner strength even I couldn’t have guessed.”

  Terri blushed slightly, reaching across to touch Bishop’s arm. “I just wanted you to hang around a little longer.”

  They continued driving across West Texas, occasionally encountering other travelers in automobiles, horse drawn wagons, tractors, and even a few semi-trucks carrying cargo.

  “It’s good to see people out and about,” Bishop noted. “Sure is one hell of a lot different than the last time we traveled this road.”

  Even navigating through the small towns was a completely different experience. The couple didn’t encounter a single roadblock, barricade, or guard post. One of the bergs even offered gasoline, another contributing a fresh produce stand attracting several shoppers. Terri wanted to stop.

  The locals were friendly, chatting up the traveling family while posing mildly curious inquiries and making over Hunter.

  “Where are you folks headed?” asked an older man with a handful of potatoes.

  “Houston,” Bishop answered.

  “Oh? Do you think that’s safe? We’ve heard so many stories from people, most of them trying to get away from that town.”

  “We hear the recovery is going well there,” Bishop informed the gent. “We’re going back to claim our home.”

  “We are supposed to have a township meeting about property ownership in two nights,” came the response. “A lot of people are leery of how things are going to go with this new law. The Alliance has done right be me so far, so I’m going to hear what they have to say and make up my mind, I guess.”

  “I’ve read the rules,” Bishop countered. “It’s not a perfect solution, but I think it will treat most property owners fairly.”

  Terri appeared, along with a small bag of grapes and a smiling Hunter. “He loves them,” she grinned, feeding the boy another of the small fruits. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him enjoy food like this.”

  After popping a couple of the purple orbs into his mouth, Bishop had to admit they were delicious. “I wonder if we can plant an arbor at the ranch? Maybe I’d have more luck growing these than I did with my other attempts at gardening. We could even open a winery.”

  “Umm, sure,” Terri replied with a healthy dose of skepticism. “Just don’t quit your day job, okay?”

  Back on the road again, a sign reminded Bishop of ano
ther significant landmark – the Brazos River.

  The crossing had been a terrifying ordeal, rogue National Guard troops taking control of the only bridge in the area and demanding a high toll before allowing anyone to cross. Bishop had coordinated with a group of the stranded travelers, sniping the villains while several men charged the structure.

  While the bridge was eventually liberated, Bishop had fought a running gun battle with two of the defenders, barely escaping with his life. His nightmares frequently revisited the event for him in the dark of night.

  Terri seemed to sense the foreboding in her mate. “Remember how kind Ben and Maggie were to us,” she reminded the Texan. “They took us in and helped free all those people. Just concentrate on how good it will be to see them again.”

  She’s right, Bishop had to admit. Focus on the positive.

  They found the farmhouse after only two wrong turns along the unmarked, narrow country lanes. Bishop sensed instantly that something was wrong.

  Cooter, the old hound, wasn’t at his usual post on the front porch. The growth of weeds around the barn and homestead gave the place a sense of emptiness. Terri, after scanning the property, announced, “I don’t like this Bishop. I hope….”

  Pulling a carbine from the back seat, Bishop hopped out of the cab and headed for the house. “Hello!” he greeted, not wanting to spook their old friends. “Anybody home?”

  There was no response.

  A solid pounding on the front door produced no answer. The curtains were drawn.

  The Texan then moved to the back of the structure, checking the windows as he went. Finally, spotting a gap in the draperies, he found the interior was much the same as he remembered.

  A nearby coffee table was coated in dust, a pair of Ben’s work boots resting near the door. There was no sign of foul play, but Bishop’s gut told him that the place hadn’t been occupied for several months.

  Returning to the truck, Bishop informed an anxious Terri of his findings.

  “You have to go inside and check it out. They might have left a note or something… or they might be in there.”

  Shaking his head, Bishop replied, “You know I hate that. Going in somebody’s house sucks. But... I suppose you’re right. You stay here with Hunter.”

  The Texan returned to the back door, sucking in a breath and poking a small pane of glass with his rifle barrel. He then reached inside and unlocked the door.

  “Hello! Hello! Anybody home?” he shouted.

  Again, there was no response.

  Bishop cleared the house, every new room bringing a dark curtain of dread that he was about to stumble onto the decaying corpses of their friends. It was simply a vision the Texan didn’t need.

  After checking every room and finding no sign of foul play, he went back through a second time looking for any hint, sign, or clue that Maggie and Ben had packed up and intentionally left their home. It was a difficult, if not impossible riddle to solve.

  The master bedroom’s closet was a picture of tidiness, the lady of the house clearly dominating that space. Ben’s smaller section was filled with hanging overalls and other work clothes, as well as two suits that the Texan assumed were for Sunday services and funerals. There were empty hangers, but it was hard to tell if someone had intentionally packed up and left – or not.

  “We just didn’t have the chance to get to know you very well,” Bishop whispered to the empty dwelling. “I don’t even know where you kept your suitcases, or how many you had.”

  Discovering neither a note nor indication of foul play, Bishop returned to the truck to inform his anxious bride of his findings.

  Terri wanted to look for herself, returning ten minutes later with the same conclusion. “Where would they have gone?” she asked, not really expecting Bishop to have an answer.

  “Family? Friends? Little Ben’s parents? There no way to know,” Bishop replied. “Why don’t you fix us a quick meal while I walk around the farm? Just to double-check.”

  A short time later, Bishop returned, none the wiser than when he’d left. “I didn’t find any graves or other signs of issues. Ben’s truck is gone, so I guess we have to assume they left of their own accord.”

  “Should we inform the local sheriff’s department?” Terri asked, frowning at the empty home.

  “And say what? I don’t even remember Ben and Maggie’s last name. What would we tell the deputy? There’s no sign of any problem or foul play.”

  Swallowing a mouthful of her ham sandwich, Terri vented, “It is so frustrating. We have no way of knowing, and we may never find out what happened to them. It’s one of the most troubling aspects of the collapse… the lack of communication.”

  “I hear ya,” Bishop replied. “It’s terrible to think about all of the family members that can’t find each other. I think every town we have driven through has had one of those bulletin boards plastered with pictures of missing loved ones. Even with the recovery, it’s still a major problem.”

  “I’m just going to assume they’re okay,” Terri finally announced with an uplifting tone. “I’m not going to let this spoil our trip.”

  “That’s my girl,” came the Texan’s reply.

  The couple finished the remainder of the meal in an uncomfortable silence, both of them seeming to be occupied with their own thoughts.

  “That was good, darling, thank you,” Bishop said, announcing he was done eating. “I’ll either change Hunter or clean up the dinner mess… your choice.”

  “You’ll do both,” Terri teased, putting her hands on her hips. “I was going to use the old water pump out back to wash some of this road dust off my person.”

  “No problem,” Bishop answered with a grin, secretly worried that his wife was taking Ben and Maggie’s disappearance more seriously than she was letting on. “I got this.”

  As Terri disappeared around the corner of the house carrying a change of clothes and a small bag, she glanced back over her shoulder and said, “No peeking!”

  “No promises,” came the reply along with the underlying chuckle.

  “Come on Hunter, let’s get a dry diaper on your little bottom,” Bishop said, lifting his son.

  Terri returned a bit later, drying wet hair and looking refreshed. “Damn that water was cold, but it felt good in a way. You should give it a try,” she said with a wink. “One never knows what benefits a clean man who does the dishes might realize.”

  With an eyebrow waggle, Bishop started digging for a change of wardrobe. As he was pulling a shirt from his bag, he asked, “Do you want to stay inside the house tonight, or should I set up the tent?”

  Shaking her head, Terri said, “No. I wouldn’t feel right sleeping in there. I’ll help you pitch the tent.”

  Judging it was going to be a cool evening, Bishop had to agree, “Yeah. It would be weird crashing inside their house. I’m good with another night on the ground. We’ll make a family camping trip out of it.”

  After his pump-bath, Bishop gathered wood and staked out the tent. When he realized he’d subconsciously picked a spot behind the barn and hidden from the road, he had to laugh at himself. “Old habits die hard,” he whispered to the fading light. “When will you stop being so paranoid?”

  With a small fire crackling and Hunter now asleep in the tent, the couple sat mesmerized by the flames. Finally, Terri broke the silence. “Today, we found our friends missing without a clue. I ate a cold meal, took a cold bath, and now I’m getting ready to sleep on the ground. So much for the recovery, huh?”

  Grunting, Bishop flashed her a smile, “I set up the tent back here behind the barn so it wasn’t visible from the road. I didn’t even think about it. That, of course, was after I’d walked the area, looking for shallow graves. It’s amazing what you can get used to, isn’t it?”

  “I’m not unhappy… or worried… or sad,” Terri replied with an uplifting voice. “As a matter of fact, I’m quite content sitting here with you and enjoying the fire. Still, sometimes, I wonder if our wor
ld will ever get back to normal… or the way it was before society tumbled off the edge.”

  Bishop shrugged, moving close to his wife and wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “What is it you always say? As long as we’re together?”

  Kissing her husband on the cheek, Terri snuggled into his embrace, resting her head on his chest. “Come inside my tent, cowboy. I’ve got plans for you.”

  The drive into their old neighborhood was spooky to say the least. It seemed like every block brought back some memory or recollection, most centered on those early days following the collapse.

  The bank branch where Terri had worked was the worst, most of the glass windows broken or cracked, waist-high weeds growing in the parking lot. Every business nearby was in practically the same condition.

  Some structures had suffered worse fates. Bishop stopped counting the burned-out skeletal remains of grocery stores, gas stations, and restaurants after a few miles.

  While the Army had been working on clearing the millions of stalled, abandoned vehicles that clogged every major traffic artery, suburban areas had been low on the priority list. Twice Bishop had to change his route, the roadway impassable due to hulks of rusting trucks, vans, or cars.

  There were, however, some signs of life.

  The couple saw children playing in a yard, another home sporting clotheslines heavily laden with laundry. Bishop even encountered the occasional car or truck on the roadways.

  Small columns of cooking-fire smoke darkened the horizon here and there. At one point, the aroma of a BBQ came drifting through the cab.

  Three blocks from their home, Bishop yet again had to backtrack. A large pine tree had fallen, blocking the paved lanes.

  “Looks like that’s been there for a while,” he informed Terri. “Notice all the smaller branches have been removed? Probably for firewood.”

  Then the truck turned onto their street.

  The first thing Bishop noted was the overgrowth of grass, weeds, and shrubbery in what had once been a well-manicured subdivision. “These people should take better care of their yards,” he quipped to Terri. “Real estate values are going to plummet.”