Light of Dawn

by Vannetta Chapman

  The man pulled out a pocket watch. Sunlight glinted off gold. He thumbed it open. “It’ll be dark in forty-five minutes. Wouldn’t advise continuing north once the sun has set.”

  “Do you know of any specific threats, places we should avoid?”

  “Every place is a threat,” the woman said. “You could be a threat.”

  “But we’re not.”

  Shelby was still focused on the couple, and then movement across the street caught her eye. Behind a window, she briefly saw a woman in a red velvet dress. A man in a starched white shirt and black vest—that was all she saw of him—pulled the woman back from view.

  “We’ll be on our way if you’d rather.” Gabe took a step back toward their vehicles. “We only wanted information.”

  “Information isn’t free.” This from the woman. “You have something to trade?”

  “We don’t,” Gabe said.

  The woman’s lips formed a thin red line, which was when Shelby realized she was wearing lipstick. When was the last time she’d seen that? Probably the day before the flare.

  The man seemed less hostile than the woman. “Kansas has its share of bandits, if that’s what you’re asking. Some were born mean, and others became that way after the flare.”

  “Your town seems to have held up pretty well. The buildings are still intact.”

  “Because we don’t abide outlaws or strangers.” The man returned his watch to his pocket.

  “We’ll be on our way, then.”

  Gabe whistled once, and they all moved back toward their vehicles. Shelby was opening the door to the Dodge when the man in the suit called out to Gabe. “There’s a place just out of town, a mile and a half on the right. Used to be an RV park back when we had tourists here. Had us a Wild West show and everything…”

  “They don’t need the chamber speech, Ryder.”

  He shrugged. “It’s a good place to stop for a night. Thought they might want to know.”

  The two turned to walk away, not bothering to look back at them.

  Shelby buckled up as Max started the engine. “Something about those two doesn’t seem right.”

  “Was it their clothing that tipped you off?”

  “They didn’t ask where we were going or if we had information. Everyone wants information, but they didn’t. Though she did say…what was it? Information isn’t free.”

  “They seemed interested in our supplies. Other than that, they just wanted us gone.”

  “Wish granted.” Shelby paused, wondering if it was silly to mention it, and finally told him about the other two people she’d seen in the window.

  “Red velvet? You’re sure?”

  “Yeah. I’m sure. The sun was popping through that window, and I could see her plain as day.”

  “You couldn’t have seen that the man’s shirt was starched. Unless you’ve developed eagle eyes in the last hour.”

  “Starched shirts look different, Max. They look—more stiff. Anyway, that’s not the point. Why were they dressed like that? Why were they watching us? And where was the rest of the Wild West crew?”

  But Max didn’t have any answers to those questions.

  They ended up passing the RV park in case it was a trap and stopping a few miles down the road where there was a pullout into a rest area. There were no facilities, but a half dozen picnic tables and grills were spread across the area.

  “Good as anywhere,” Patrick said. “And we’re on a hilltop, so we can see if that couple comes after us.”

  Everyone laughed, but they were all uneasy.

  The sooner they put Caldwell behind them, the better.

  FIFTY-SEVEN

  The temperature didn’t drop that much overnight, but the wind turned and was now blowing from the north. Carter hated a north wind. It caused the fillings in his teeth to ache, and he wasn’t old enough to have those kinds of complaints. Plus, there was the fact that they were headed north, so their gas mileage would be lower.

  “The direction of the wind?” Bianca smiled as she stuffed her bedroll into its bag. “Out of our hands, hijo. Completely out of our hands.”

  No one had slept well. Before calling it a night, they’d joked about the creepy couple, but no one could say exactly what had bothered them. It was more a sense—a sixth sense they’d developed since the flare. Patrick called it survival instinct. They’d decided on two guards who would swap off every three hours. Gabe would act as a third the last hour of every shift.

  “We’ve been traumatized,” Lanh muttered as they stored their bedrolls in the back of the Hummer. “We jump at shadows now, but yeah…those people bothered me too. Why even come down to talk to us? And those clothes were not normal. They were making a statement or something. Not cool whatever they were up to.”

  “Maybe they just had strange tastes.”

  “And what was with that pocket watch? I think it was a signal of some sort, when he took the watch out.”

  “Maybe you’ve read too many spy novels,” Shelby suggested.

  “Or maybe he has a point.” Gabe added his bedroll next to the others. “Let’s not stick around long enough to find out.”

  The sky had barely lightened at all, and the sun wouldn’t be fully up for another hour. As they pulled out of the rest area, Gabe led, Max followed, and Patrick brought up the rear.

  They kept their lights off and turned back onto the main road. Carter wasn’t sure exactly where the Flint Hills started, but he could tell they were close. The landscape rose slightly before falling away. There were very few crossroads and no gas stations or convenience stores. It was as though they’d left real civilization at the Oklahoma state line.

  The road continued north, curving slightly to the east and then back north as they headed toward the Chikaskia River.

  They were veering left, out of the curve, when spotlights in front of them lit up everything in the Hummer, effectively blinding them.

  “Hang on,” Gabe hollered, gunning the Hummer’s engine. He didn’t veer from the lights, but rather accelerated toward them.

  “We’re going to hit them,” Lanh screamed.

  Carter turned in his seat and glanced back in time to see a monster truck broadside the Dodge. Metal grated against metal and the truck slammed on its brakes as the Dodge flipped into a roll and slid off the road. His heart leapt into his throat, his pulse rate spiked, and he shouted, “They’re hit! Mom and Max—”

  The Hummer headed full speed toward the lights—toward something and someone who wanted to hurt them. It was an ambush, and his mom…

  The engine roared, and Gabe shouted, “Brace yourself.”

  But at the last second, the lights veered away, taking off across the hills.

  Gabe hit the brakes hard, sending the Hummer into a spin.

  Carter lunged for the grab bar, his seat belt locking and pinning him back. He glimpsed the hills and the lightening sky and the fleeing Suburban as they turned round and round, and he smelled burning rubber. Gabe was still working the wheel, pumping the brakes, trying to keep them on the road. They came to a stop facing slightly east. Gabe wrenched the wheel to the right and tapped the accelerator. They were now pointed back the way they’d come.

  “Get your weapons,” he muttered and flipped on the headlights.

  Carter felt like a knife had been plunged into his chest. The monster truck had come to a stop by the Dodge, which had rolled but was now right side up.

  “I can’t see my mom or Max.”

  Another vehicle’s engine screeched, and Lanh twisted around in his seat. “It’s a tanker, headed straight for Patrick and Bianca.”

  But Carter saw immediately that Patrick and Bianca were no longer in the Mustang. They’d left the vehicle and had taken up a position on the side of the road, their rifles raised. The Mustang idled in the middle of the road, the passenger door open.

  As the tanker truck accelerated—its occupants apparently unaware that their target was now empty—both Bianca and Patrick fired on it.
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br />   Meanwhile, Gabe accelerated toward the monster truck.

  The tanker veered off course, sideswiped the Mustang, and came to rest ten yards down the road.

  By this time the driver of the monster truck had figured out what was happening. He was big—Carter had a good view of how big as they hurtled toward him, and he was wearing a white shirt and a black vest. Not exactly normal attire for a carjacking or whatever this was.

  The pickup looked like it had been modified to compete in a truck rally. It was at least twelve feet tall. The wheels were huge off-road things. Sitting next to the Dodge, it looked like a giant beside a matchbox car.

  Carter made out another person in the vehicle as they sped toward it.

  “It’s her. The lady we saw yesterday.” His anger spiked, even as he wondered if his mom and Max were hurt. How could these people do this? Why would they do it?

  The driver slammed the truck into reverse and floored it, eventually spinning toward the opposite direction, and speeding south toward Caldwell, staying off road. The last thing Carter saw of the passenger was a fringed leather jacket.

  “We can catch them,” Lanh said.

  “We have to check on my mom and Max.”

  Gabe jerked the Hummer to a stop beside the Dodge, and they all tumbled out.

  FIFTY-EIGHT

  Max’s mind flashed back over the previous three minutes, trying to make sense of what had happened. He’d thought they were going to die.

  Somehow they’d survived the initial hit and the roll, but then he’d seen the monster truck trundling toward them. He’d tried to reach for his pistol, but the seat belt had locked and was pinning him to the seat. Not to mention the top of the Dodge was now mere inches from his head. At least they were sitting right side up.

  “You okay?” Shelby asked.

  When he turned toward her, he very nearly panicked. There was blood running down her face, glass sprinkled in her hair, and her eyes were wide with shock.

  “We need our guns.” She was able to squirm out of her seat belt, reach into her pack, and pull out her knife. “What is happening?”

  “Ambush.” His tongue felt swollen, and he thought a tooth might be loose. He turned his head left and spit out blood.

  Shelby’s hand shook as she opened the blade, slipped it under his seat belt, and yanked up.

  “Get your weapon and get down.” He had little chance of fitting into the floorboard area himself, but Shelby was small. There was a chance that crouching in front of her seat could save her.

  He looked right and saw the enormous wheels of the Monster truck. It was the perfect off-road vehicle—perfect for an ambush, other than the fact that it must guzzle gas worse than a Cadillac. The truck screeched to a stop, but the driver kept the engine running.

  Max heard rifle shots, the scream of metal against metal, and then the engine of the Hummer.

  “Get down now!”

  Someone in the Monster truck fired one shot down and through the front windshield. It pierced the glass, went through the back of Shelby’s seat, and lodged somewhere in the back of the Dodge. The driver of the truck threw it into reverse and sped away.

  Then Carter and Lanh and Gabe were surrounding the vehicle and wrenching open the doors.

  “Are you okay? You’re bleeding.” Carter pulled Shelby from the passenger’s side, held her at arm’s length, and wiped the blood out of her eyes with the palm of his hand. “I was so scared. I thought…I thought…”

  “I’m okay, Carter. It’s just a cut.”

  “Max?” Gabe asked.

  “Bruised shoulder, maybe a sprained wrist. I’m fine. Patrick and Bianca?”

  Max looked up to see them jogging toward them. “You two okay?”

  “We look better than you do,” Bianca said.

  Patrick continued to scan left and right as he spoke to them. “Area seems to be clear, but I suggest we put as much distance as we can between us and them.”

  “See if it will start,” Gabe said. Miraculously, it did, but Max wouldn’t be able to see out of the front windshield, which had spidered badly.

  “Stand back.” Patrick took the butt of his pistol and slammed it into the middle of the windshield. It shattered into a thousand pieces. “Carter and Lanh, put on your gloves and clean out as much of that as you can.”

  Gabe had already run to the Hummer and returned with a roll of gauze. He wrapped it around Shelby’s head. “This will stop the bleeding. We’ll clean it when we’re in a safe location.”

  “Mustang?” Lanh asked.

  “It’ll take more than a glancing blow from a tanker to stop her.”

  “All right.” Gabe turned slowly in a circle, spied the tanker across the road. “Anyone alive in there?”

  One jerk of Bianca’s head said it all.

  “Let’s go then. Tight formation. We don’t stop for twenty miles for any reason.”

  “Be careful.” Carter squeezed Shelby’s arms, nodded at Max, and then jogged after Gabe.

  Max and Shelby got back into the Dodge.

  They were silent the first few miles, the wind whistling through the front windshield.

  “Were you scared?” Shelby asked.

  “Terrified.”

  “Me too.”

  He almost let it slide, let her believe that he was talking about what she was talking about. But they’d had too many close calls, too many brushes with death. Something whispered to his heart, Tell her now while you can.

  He cleared his throat. “Not of the truck, though I can’t imagine where they got that thing.”

  “They were…they acted like they were in a Wild West show, like the posters.” She put her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes. Even with the trail of blood down her cheek, the gauze wrapped around her head, and her black curls resembling Medusa, Shelby Sparks was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, ever known, ever would know.

  “They played us,” she continued. “They knew we’d have to stop close by even if we didn’t take their suggestion about the RV park. They traveled past us, or around, in the night. And then they waited until we were in that turn—the perfect ambush spot. A gunfight would have been more honorable, but instead they waylaid us. Yeah, it was terrifying.”

  Max cleared his throat. “It was, but that wasn’t what I meant. I wasn’t…didn’t have time to be afraid of them.”

  She cocked her head, waited.

  “We can stand our ground against most people. Maybe I’m numb, but it’s just another…another obstacle to overcome. Outthink them. Outplay them. But when I lost control of the car? When we were rolling over, and I couldn’t…”

  Tears welled up in his eyes, and he brushed them away with his sleeve and forced himself to look at this precious, marvelous woman sitting next to him. “When I realized that I might lose you, that this might be the last day we spent together…I’ve never known fear like that.”

  Shelby didn’t have an answer to his confession. She locked eyes with him, hers large and impossible to read, and then she reached out, pulled his hand into her lap, and interlaced her fingers with his.

  FIFTY-NINE

  They were a ragtag lot.

  The Mustang had taken a beating when it was hit by the tanker. They’d managed to close the passenger door, but it wouldn’t latch. They’d had to fasten it to the body of the car using duct tape and bungee cords. The taillights no longer worked, and the windshield was cracked. Patrick’s prize ride was held together with ingenuity and desperation.

  The Dodge wasn’t in much better shape. The rollover had dented in the roof so that Max couldn’t have worn his cowboy hat if he’d wanted to. Their front windshield was gone. They’d managed to knock out enough of the glass so that it didn’t present a physical hazard, though riding in the front seat reminded Shelby of the two times she’d been on a motorcycle.

  Only the Hummer looked as it had when they’d first met up on the square in Langford Cove, Texas.

  The area they were passing t
hrough was a marked contrast to their dilapidated group. Rolling hills stretched out in all directions like a sea of green, spotted here and there with clusters of white wildflowers. There were no ranches, no farms, no other roads—only the Flint Hills, their road, and on both sides the seemingly endless prairie. Shelby was able to make out switch grass, bluestem, and Indian grass. Occasionally, she saw a stream but no trees.

  “This countryside looks so foreign to me. If I’ve ever been here before, I don’t remember it.”

  They’d slowed their speed to thirty miles an hour so Shelby didn’t have to shout to be heard over the wind coming through the front of the car where the windshield had been.

  Max gave her his arrogant smile. How he could still have that after all they’d been through was a wonder she couldn’t quite understand. She thought of his declaration of how much he cared for her, and she looked away. Now wasn’t the time for that. Or maybe it was. They could have died today. They might still.

  “Then you probably haven’t been here,” Max said. “Hard to forget this much…nothingness.”

  “Why is there no farming?”

  “Too little topsoil.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I quizzed Gabe about it our first night out.”

  And indeed, there was nothing on either side of the four-lane road. They’d passed very few cars and seen no houses. Within the first few miles, they passed one combination gas station/convenience store situated in the middle of the highway between the northbound and southbound lanes. It had obviously been looted. By whom? Where did the people come from, and where did they go? No one suggested stopping. They were still too close to Caldwell. Hills green with spring grasses stretched to the right and left and disappeared in the distance as far as they could see.

  Shelby watched the unremarkable scene outside the car for several more minutes. Finally, she turned to Max and asked, “Why would the government set up out here?” The question had been tumbling around in her head, repeating itself like a stuck recording.