Light of Dawn

by Vannetta Chapman

  “What can you see?” Shelby asked.

  “Cars.”

  “A blockade?”

  “Probably. Someone’s approaching and…”

  Shelby waited impatiently as Max scanned left to right and then left again.

  “Well?”

  He handed her the binoculars. “It is a blockade. Looks pretty similar to what we had in Abney.”

  Shelby gazed through it for a minute, the sight causing her stomach to tumble even as her temper spiked. Why did people think they could block public roads? She understood the need, but still it galled her. They turned and jogged back to where the others were waiting.

  “Looks like a blockade,” Max said. “I saw someone drive up to it from an east-west road and hand over their weapons.”

  “They’re operating the same way we did in Abney,” Bianca said.

  “Pretty much. Hand over your weapons, do your business in town, and then presumably they return your things to you as you leave.”

  “I don’t like it,” Patrick said.

  “And obviously I am not handing over all the weapons in the Hummer.” Gabe reached into the vehicle and pulled out the map.

  Max traced a path through the maze of county roads. “We can circle to the west, though there’s no guarantee we won’t come across more roadblocks…or worse.”

  “I say we go around,” Patrick said.

  Carter and Lanh had walked over to a road sign to study it.

  Shelby tried to focus on their decision. “I think we should go forward. Hamilton was supposed to be a refugee center. They could know something about where the federal government is. They might even know what kind of trouble we’re heading into.”

  “I doubt you will learn anything, but you’re right that we should try.” Gabe stood with his hands on his hips, staring at the map and then up at the horizon, no doubt wishing he could see over the hill and into the town of Hamilton. “Patrick and I will go around. Max and Shelby, you drive through. It will cause less alarm if there’s only one car, and you can leave your weapons with us so you don’t risk losing them.”

  “We should take them,” Max said. When Patrick started to argue, Max stopped him with a raised hand. “We’ll only take two handguns. If they don’t give them back, all we’ve lost are two Glocks.”

  Shelby was surprised to hear herself agreeing with him. “It would look suspicious if we showed up unarmed. They would know that something wasn’t right.”

  Patrick frowned and then nodded. “All right. I don’t like the idea of losing any firearm since there’s no telling what we’ll face between here and Kansas, but you have a point.” Patrick walked around behind them and pulled the 9mm pistols out of their packs, handing them to Bianca. “We’ll give these military-grade beauties back to you on the other side.”

  Gabe turned back to the map and pointed to a spot on it. “We’ll meet a few miles north of town…here. If you have any trouble, use your radio. Otherwise, keep it in your pack.”

  “They’ll see it.”

  Patrick tossed Shelby his radio. “They’ll assume you’re using them to talk to each other.”

  It was settled. Patrick would be without a radio, but he’d be with Gabe, who had a Hummer and a stash of M16 rifles. In addition, they each had their 9mm pistols, plus the weapons they’d brought.

  Shelby resisted the urge to exact a promise from Carter. He’d be careful, but it was obvious that her son’s thoughts were not on his own safety. He jogged over to her as she got into the Dodge. “Keep your eyes out for an X with a circle around it.”

  “Huh?”

  Spying a pen on the middle console, he grabbed it, opened her palm and drew the symbol on the inside of her hand. “Look for this. See if you can find out what it means.”

  He mussed her hair, and she batted his hand away.

  Carter grinned at her as Max started the Dodge, and then Shelby and Max were moving away from their group, driving toward the roadblock.

  TEN

  Max stopped fifty yards from the group of vehicles and armed men.

  “Ready?”

  “I guess.”

  They stepped out of the Dodge at the same moment, hands half raised to show they were no threat.

  The head of the patrol, a thirtyish-looking man with an overgrown beard, stepped forward, rifle slung across his chest and in the ready position. “We’ll need you to put your weapons on the ground.”

  “We only mean to go through.”

  “To do that you have to put your weapons on the ground.”

  “Will we get them back?”

  “On the other side.”

  Max began to reach with his right hand, and the guard said, “With your left. Both of you.”

  He glanced at Shelby, who rolled her eyes and pulled her Glock out of her hip holster with her left hand. It was an awkward movement, which is what they wanted. Smart. He’d have to remember that and tell the folks in Abney. If he’d begun to draw the weapon with his left, no doubt they would have told him to use his right.

  He placed the Glock on the ground and kicked it away with his foot. Shelby did the same.

  “Now the packs.”

  When they’d shrugged out of them, the guard jerked his head to the left, and a kid about Carter’s age jumped down off a flatbed truck, darted over, and picked up both packs and both weapons.

  “We done here?” Max asked.

  “Not quite. Renshaw and Kirby, move the vehicle.”

  Max glanced at Shelby. They’d both been hoping to hear Micah 5, the code word for a group called the Remnant that had helped them in Austin. Apparently, these people were a different sort. Max moved to the left to block the old man’s progress—Renshaw or Kirby. Someone on the back of a truck raised a rifle and sighted Max through it. He didn’t have to look up to know that. He recognized the motion. He’d done it often enough himself.

  He held his ground. “There’s still such a thing as private property, last I checked.”

  “Times have changed.”

  “Even the Constitution? Has that changed?”

  “You don’t want to fight me on this.”

  “Head on down to your library and check out the fifth amendment of the US Constitution. It plainly states that private property shall not be taken for public use without just compensation.”

  “Got us a smart one this morning.” The leader stepped closer, and Max made out the name “Hardin” sewn above his jacket pocket. Must have worked in a factory because the thing was machine stitched. No doubt part of his uniform. “You want through this town, or you want to go around?”

  “We’d rather go through.”

  “Then we have to move your vehicle.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you might have bombs in there or other people. There’s no telling what you’re transporting, and I’m not going to risk the safety of my town because you want to tout your constitutional right. Got it?”

  “Yeah. I got it.”

  Hardin motioned them with his rifle to walk toward the right side of the blockade. Two other guards waited there to search them and send them through.

  Renshaw and Kirby drove off in the Dodge, turning left and going around the far west side of the blockade.

  “I didn’t think about them taking our packs,” Shelby whispered as they were motioned through and told to wait.

  “Makes sense, though.”

  “We don’t have our radios.”

  “No, we don’t.”

  “Maybe this was a bad idea. What if they take Carter’s insulin?”

  “Too late to back out. We’re in it now.” He gave her his best cowboy smile and resettled the black Stetson that he’d come to think of as his good-luck charm.

  A middle-aged woman walked up and offered to escort them through town. She wore a police uniform, complete with the utility belt, handgun, pepper spray, and cuffs. A radio was clipped to her shoulder.

  “Sorry about that.” She held out a hand to Shelby and then Max.
“I’m Edith Fletcher, and I’ll be escorting you through Hamilton.”

  “Is that necessary?” Shelby asked.

  “Town council decided it is.”

  “What’s with Hardin?” Max gestured toward the other side of the blockade.

  “Lost a brother last month. He was working on the blockade. Since then, security measures have tightened.”

  Max felt a surge of sympathy for the man. But who hadn’t lost someone since the grid collapsed? They were a nation in mourning.

  “Where are you folks from?”

  Max guessed the length of the town to be close to four miles. Was she going to accompany them the entire way? How many times a day did she do this?

  Shelby was staring at some graffiti on the side of a gas station.

  “Abney,” he said. “We’re from Abney.”

  “I had kinfolk in Abney, but they came here after the flare. We kind of circled up on my uncle’s property.”

  “There’s a lot of that going on.”

  “Better than being alone.”

  They walked in silence a few minutes. They passed homes that looked relatively undamaged, and stores that were closed but not looted.

  Max could tell that Shelby was ready to pepper the woman with questions, only she hadn’t figured out how to start.

  Then they reached the town square.

  Shelby stopped with her hands on her hips, looking up and down the main road, across at the courthouse, even at the coffee shop on the corner, which looked to be open. In front of the courthouse was a grassy area where older men and women were setting up tables with items to trade. Max could make out canned food, quilts, stacks of MREs, even live chickens.

  “Abney looks worse than this,” he admitted.

  “We heard there was trouble that way, especially after that early battle with Croghan.”

  “Even Townsen Mills and Langford Cove have been destroyed.” Shelby continued to glance around, no doubt trying to grasp what she was seeing. “Buildings burned, people…all gone.”

  “We set up a hard perimeter within twenty-four hours,” Edith said. “And any hint of trouble from someone inside earns them a ticket outside. No exceptions. No second chances.”

  “Harsh.” Shelby didn’t so much as blink when the woman turned to stare at her.

  “You’re right. It is harsh, but the result is a town square that’s still standing and a coffee shop that’s open. You hungry?”

  Shelby and Max shook their head as one.

  Edith shrugged. “Let’s go, then.”

  ELEVEN

  They were near the cemetery on the north side of town and approaching the roadblock when Shelby pretended to have a cramp in her leg. Max knew she was pretending because he’d been with her nearly every day since the flare, and she’d never had a leg cramp before. Plus, they hadn’t walked that far.

  Shelby hobbled over to a tombstone. The cemetery bordered the road, and graves were placed right up to the property line. She reached the headstone and lowered herself to the ground, still clutching her calf. He fought the urge to laugh at her pitiful acting. He didn’t have to call her on it. The cop did.

  “Funny thing about cramps. They don’t usually travel from one leg to the other.” Fletcher looked more curious than irritated.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” Shelby said.

  “You initially grabbed your right leg, but now you’re holding your left.”

  “Oh. Well, they both hurt.”

  “Uh-huh, and I’ve got land in Colorado I’d like to sell you.”

  “Fine. I was faking.”

  “Why?”

  “We’re nearly to the next roadblock, and I wanted a chance to ask you some questions.”

  Now Fletcher was grinning. “In that case, we should have stopped at the coffee shop.” She motioned for Max to move closer. “No one will see us here. Why don’t you two tell me what you’re doing in my town.”

  “Traveling through, like we said.” Max plopped on the ground next to Shelby.

  Fletcher leaned against a tree—close enough to hear them, but far enough that they couldn’t grab for her gun. Not that they would do anything that stupid, but he admired her carefulness.

  “And you have questions.”

  “We do.” Max grabbed Shelby’s leg and began to rub it. When she resisted, he said, “In case anyone is watching.”

  She batted his hand away and began going through a series of stretches while her eyes remained focused on Officer Fletcher. “Wasn’t there a refugee center here?”

  “That was in June, after you all had the battle with Croghan. We took refugees from there as well as the surrounding area.”

  “And?”

  “Feds pulled out six months ago. Left us with a couple hundred mouths to feed, which we could not do.”

  “So what happened to them?” Shelby’s voice had taken on an indignant tone, and Max knew what would follow that.

  “We didn’t do what you’re thinking.” Fletcher’s radio beeped, and she said something into it that Max couldn’t make out, primarily because she angled away from them. Turning back to them, she said, “Roadblock wants to know if there’s trouble. I told them to give us a minute.”

  “So what did you do with the refugees?”

  “Offered them jobs and homes if we had them. Believe it or not, we actually need people around here.” She glanced out over the tombstones, and that was when Max saw the area of freshly dug graves with no markers other than wooden crosses. He knew from firsthand experience that the names on them would be hand carved or written with permanent maker—he wasn’t close enough to see which.

  “Some stayed. Most didn’t. Everyone was still optimistic then. Now, why don’t you tell me what you’re doing here? We have about three more minutes before someone comes to check on us.”

  Max wasn’t sure how much he wanted to share, but he also wanted to know what had happened in Hamilton. He wanted details about what they’d seen and what Edith Fletcher knew. She seemed like a straight shooter, so with a three-minute clock ticking in his head, he explained as succinctly as possible what their mission was and that they’d just begun.

  “Wow. First time I’ve heard that one. I’ve had all sorts of people come through here on all sorts of missions, but never someone looking specifically for the federal government.”

  “Why do you think that is?” Shelby asked.

  Fletcher almost laughed. “We’re in Texas, remember? The less government, the better, and if that means none, then so be it.”

  “Yeah, we know people like that too.” Max again stared out over the freshly dug graves. Though they’d agreed immediately to go with Patrick and Bianca, Max understood that some people wouldn’t have. There were men and women even in the ranches around High Fields who had no desire to find the federal government. Some argued it would do more harm than good. For him and for Shelby, it was Carter’s need and the fact that their friends were going—with or without them—that had settled the issue. “I can’t say I miss the bureaucracy. Still, it would be nice to know what’s out there.”

  “That’s why you’re traveling on the open road? Out of curiosity?”

  Max and Shelby exchanged looks. An unspoken agreement caused Max to hedge. “It’s more than curiosity, but we’re not at liberty to say.”

  Fletcher held up her hand. “Fine by me. The less I know, the better.”

  “You haven’t heard anything?”

  “Look. The same transports that passed through Abney that first week passed through here. And yes, we had a refugee center operated mainly by the Red Cross. As far as I know, that organization no longer exists. They became a target because they had supplies—food, medicine, you name it. When the government pulled out, there was no one to protect the workers, and the entire operation fell apart pretty quickly.”

  Shelby and Max stood, and they all began walking back toward the road.

  “No rumors about where the troops went?”

  “Plenty of
rumors. No proof.”

  “It might help us if we knew what you’d heard.”

  “Let’s see. That DC was nuked. That the president is hunkered down in Cheyenne Mountain. That aliens are responsible for the collapse of the grid, and my personal favorite—that the Chinese hacked into our system and are waiting a year for the population to decline and folks to get real hungry before they invade.”

  “Wow,” Max said.

  “Do you believe any of them?”

  “Doesn’t matter what I believe. Matters what I can prove, and I can’t prove any of it. I haven’t left Hamilton since the day the grid went down, except for an occasional patrol, and we never go more than three miles out.”

  “Three—” Shelby glanced at Max.

  “That’s the reach of our radios.”

  They’d nearly arrived at the northern roadblock. Shelby dropped to her knees and pretended to mess with her shoelaces. One hand on the laces, the other palm up, she asked, “Do you know what this symbol means?”

  Fletcher made no effort to hide her distaste. “Yeah. That’s Hugo’s, and you don’t want to mess with him.”

  “So he’s what? Marking his territory?” Max frowned at the symbol penned on Shelby’s hand. “Didn’t I see that on a building we passed?”

  “You did. Hugo lived in Hamilton. Born and raised here.”

  “But now?”

  “Now he doesn’t.”

  Fletcher began walking again, crossing the final distance to the roadblock. Shelby jogged in front of her and began walking backward. “So…what is he? A robber? Killer? What?”

  “Worse than any of those things. Hugo is one of those people who sees the failure of the grid as an opportunity, and he’ll destroy anyone or anything that gets in his way. He has no moral compass and will not hesitate to kill you or those you care about.”

  “Any idea where he’s operating? We’d rather avoid him.”

  “No, but he sometimes uses scouts on horses. Once they’ve identified a target, he comes in behind them with several raggedy pickup trucks that he stole from some locals. If you see two guys on horses scoping you out, change your course, maybe head for the closest town.”