Light of Dawn

by Vannetta Chapman

  They maintained their watch schedule, though it seemed a bit of overkill. Everyone was too keyed up to sleep. Home was less than one hundred miles to the south.

  Max found Shelby sitting with her back against the wall, cleaning her weapon. One of their solar-charged lanterns spread a circle of soft light.

  “Patrick’s a bad influence on you.”

  “Think so?”

  “Maybe. Or maybe his compulsive ways will save our lives in a few hours.”

  He removed his rifle and handgun from his pack, cleaned both, and repacked them. Then he pulled Shelby into the circle of his arms. With her back resting against his chest, Max felt as if a hole inside his heart had been filled. “Still plan on marrying me?”

  “I do.”

  “Think of it. By this time tomorrow we could be man and wife.”

  “I wish Carter could have been there.”

  “He’s the one who suggested I ask you.”

  “What?” She wiggled around in his arms so she was facing him. He could just make out the look of disbelief on her face.

  “You’re surprised that Carter knew how we felt about each other?”

  “I’m shocked he would speak to you about it.”

  Max pushed a lock of black curls behind her ear, allowed his fingertips to linger on her face. “His exact words were, ‘Go ahead and ask her already.’”

  Shelby’s eyes widened in astonishment, and then she began to laugh, and he joined her. Perhaps that was how the rest of their lives would be. Terrible trials punctuated by unexpected moments of joy. It wouldn’t be such a bad future, he realized. It wasn’t so very different from how they’d lived before. Only the particulars had changed. Perhaps life had been filled with danger and uncertainty since the day Adam and Eve were banished, since the day God placed an angel with a flaming sword to guard the east side of the garden, to guard the tree of life.

  God created a perfect world, and man spoiled it.

  Man was spoiling it again, but they could still see God’s hand. Perhaps proof of his presence wasn’t as dramatic as an angel with a sword. Maybe that proof was in the help of a man who’d lost a limb, or the faithfulness in a group of friends, or the beauty of a sunrise. Perhaps proof of God’s provision was everywhere, if only they had the eyes and the faith to see it.

  He must have nodded off, because he was suddenly aware of the sound of Patrick and Bianca talking in low voices, the smell of Gabe pouring hot water over instant coffee, and the feel of Shelby stretching in his arms.

  Dawn was still a few hours away, but their day—their last day on the road—had begun.

  EIGHTY

  Shelby realized she should be afraid, but she couldn’t manage it.

  Was this what soldiers experienced? Was this battle fatigue? She glanced at Patrick, but he was teasing Bianca, holding something up high so that she had to jump to reach it. Changing tactics, she landed a light punch to his stomach. He laughed and dropped the granola bar. They didn’t look like they were experiencing any type of fatigue, but Shelby had woken with limbs that felt like deadweight, a buzzing in her head, and a heaviness in her heart.

  “Count your blessings, Shelby. Counting your troubles won’t do a bit of good.” Her mother’s voice was strong and steady in her memory, and it brought a measure of peace to her anxious soul.

  Carter was safe.

  They were nearly home.

  Max loved her.

  Max kissed the top of her head, which caused her to feel remotely like a dog. She didn’t mind. She wanted to be treasured, cared for, enjoyed like the family pet. She was ready to start the normal part of her life. And though her heart still ached for Carter, she was coming to terms with the fact that he was where he should be. She would see him again. She promised herself that. Even if it meant finding another vehicle and driving back to the Flint Hills.

  Three of Benjamin’s men walked into the barn. Max and Shelby joined the others, including Gabe, who pushed a mug of coffee into Shelby’s hands. She sipped the piping hot liquid, willing the caffeine into her system as they huddled over the same map they’d looked at the night before. Nothing had changed. No great revelations from the night watch.

  When Benjamin walked into the room, Shelby realized that she did believe his story. He held himself like a man who had nothing to prove, like someone who had seen the future and wasn’t afraid of it. How was that possible in their world? But there it was. They could do worse than to follow someone like Benjamin West.

  “Three cars. Mine in front of you, and Christian’s behind.” He nodded to a man with a long beard who had eaten with them the night before, one of the men who had been in the initial plane crash with him. Someone they could trust. “We drive with the lights off and hope the wind will muffle the sound of your Hummer.”

  “Sorry. The electric cars were all checked out.”

  It might have been the first joke Shelby had ever heard Gabe make, but if she thought it was because he was nervous, she was sorely mistaken. A close look at his face only showed the eagerness that she felt bubbling up in herself. Was he as excited to be home as she was? Would he even stay in Abney? Of course he wouldn’t. He had information to deliver to Governor Reed. That expression on his face? It was a look of satisfaction over a mission nearly completed.

  “Gabe, follow close to me, but not so close that you’ll ram me if I have to stop suddenly. Christian and Nick will stay a little farther behind to close gates and watch for any trouble coming from our rear.”

  There didn’t seem to be anything else to say, but then Concetta stepped forward, raised her hands, bowed her head, and in a calm and steady voice said, “Bless these your children, Father. Show them your mercy this day. Cover them with your grace. Lead them safely home.”

  Tears pricked her eyes, but Shelby quickly blinked them away. Now was not the time to become emotional. She could tell, though, from the looks on her friends’ faces, that Concetta’s prayer had touched their hearts as well. They would go down fighting if they had to, but they’d rather sneak through the properties surrounding Chalk Mountain, pop out the other side, and head home without causing a stir.

  Dew-stained grass brushed against her pant legs.

  Stars blazed overhead.

  Gravel crunched beneath their tires.

  Patrick drove. Gabe, who was undoubtedly the best shot in their group, rode shotgun. Shelby sat in the middle of the backseat with Bianca on her right and Max on her left. They rode with the windows down, straining to hear the sound of trouble.

  But all they heard was a mockingbird in the brush, a deer snorting as it spooked and darted in the opposite direction, the hoot of an owl. The wind gusted occasionally, though it didn’t affect the Hummer at all. It did blow through the vehicle, tossing Shelby’s hair until she found a ball cap in a seat pocket and rammed it on her head.

  They left Concetta’s property, her figure fading in the rearview mirror. Slowly, they maneuvered through another cattle gate and then crossed a pasture, the Hummer rocking up and down, reminding her of when they’d crossed the Flint Hills. There were no lights in the distance this time, though. Whoever owned this property, presumably another member of the Remnant, was tucked in tight for the night. They crossed another cattle guard, ascended a hill, and stopped at the top before they plunged down again along what must have been a cattle trail because it certainly wasn’t wide enough for an automobile. Branches scratched against the vehicle, and several times barbed wire ran so close that Shelby could see the barbs in the waning moonlight.

  She lost all sense of direction as the Hummer turned and twisted, climbed and plunged back down.

  They’d crossed the final pasture, and Christian was closing in behind them when Shelby saw the two-lane highway in front of them.

  Could it be so simple as that? Were they home free now? It had been too easy. Hadn’t it?

  The radio Benjamin had given Gabe crackled.

  “We’ve been spotted,” Christian said. “Patrols are coming fro
m the south. They’re two clicks out.”

  “I’ll handle them, Gabe.” Benjamin’s voice was solid, unafraid. “Make a right on the highway, proceed with your headlights off, and travel as fast as that Hummer will go.”

  “We’ll stay and help—”

  “These are people I know. We can handle them.”

  “Roger that. Thank you for your assistance.”

  As they passed Benjamin’s lead vehicle, Patrick passed off the Remnant’s radio to the person riding in the passenger seat. Shelby caught a glimpse of Benjamin in the dashboard lights. His eyes were calm, resolute, faithful.

  They climbed out of the pasture and onto the paved road, the hum of tires against pavement making a markedly different sound.

  Patrick accelerated until the wind rushing through the vehicle was like a relentless hand pushing Shelby back against the seat. No one moved to roll up the window. They were all on alert, straining to hear the sound of gunshots. Worried that despite Benjamin’s presence, they would be pursued.

  But who was a match for a Hummer, even one with a few nicks and scratches?

  They sped through the night, sped south toward High Fields.

  Shelby knew she should be worried about crashing into an abandoned car or hitting a deer or being ambushed by some other desperate group. She clutched her rifle between her hands, ready to defend these people she’d grown to love more than her own life, knowing they were doing the same and were ready to die for her.

  EIGHTY-ONE

  The drive south was uneventful. Max felt the tension inside of him unwind. Every fiber of his being understood how close they were getting to home. He could practically taste it. They hadn’t passed a single roadblock, probably because they had Benjamin’s specific instructions regarding which roads to avoid. It wasn’t a direct path, routing them instead east through Walnut Springs and Meridian, and then southwest through Cranfills Gap. He had expected trouble there because another elevation gain led up to and through the gap, but the road was clear, and they sailed straight through.

  West on 22 and then back east to Jonesboro. West again to Ireland, and finally, finally they hit Highway 84, which led them to Langford Cove.

  Max fancied that he could practically see High Fields to the south. They could all feel it as the darkness of night began to recede.

  Patrick loosened his grip on the wheel.

  Gabe engaged the safety on his rifle and laid it across his lap.

  Bianca tapped her fingers against the roof of the Hummer.

  Shelby reached out and squeezed Max’s hand.

  A few more miles to go. When they turned south onto Highway 281, the Hummer’s lights revealed an ocean of color. Bluebonnets carpeted the right of way alongside the road, Indian blankets popped up through cracked foundations, paintbrushes scattered through and around and over the destruction.

  They drove slowly through the small collection of buildings that comprised Langford Cove. On the east side of the road sat First State Bank, its furniture still scattered across the lawn. Max could practically see that earlier version of themselves—

  Patrick and Bianca in the Mustang.

  He and Shelby and Lanh and Carter in the Dodge.

  Gabe leaning against the Hummer, arms crossed, patiently waiting.

  So much had changed since that day. They had experienced things and seen things that he hadn’t expected to see in his lifetime. A new government? New Town? Possibly a new world. Hope. That was what they’d seen and experienced, and it colored the way they perceived everything else.

  The grocery store was still looted.

  The taxidermist remained closed.

  An empty lot was all that remained of the feed store that had been in operation since Max was a young boy.

  They passed the school, which looked like an abandoned ship, and accelerated out of town.

  Certainly devastation was all around them, but hope was on the horizon. Max realized that would have sounded ridiculous coming out of his mouth, but it felt right in his heart.

  When they turned west off the state highway, something inside of Max began to unwind. They were nearly home. They’d made it.

  They were waved through the roadblock, with several folks shouting, “Welcome back,” and “Good to have you home.” There was even an “About time you got here,” followed by laughter and, of course, a few whistles for the Hummer. No one tried to stop them. Their questions would wait. No doubt each person manning that roadblock understood how tired Max and his friends were, how much he would want to see his parents.

  They turned into the lane and started up the hill. The family graveyard sat on a rise, under the shade of a massive live oak tree.

  His heart seemed to stop. “There are two more graves.”

  Gabe’s foot came off the gas pedal for a second as they all turned and stared. Wooden crosses had been placed at the head of two freshly dug graves.

  “Max, I’m sure they’re all right.” Shelby covered his hand with hers.

  Bianca turned to stare at the graves as they passed. “Someone would have said something. Someone at the roadblock would have mentioned…”

  Patrick didn’t say a word, but the look that passed between him and Max said enough.

  Max felt an ache in his heart that was a physical pain. He reached up to rub at his chest, and then they were at the house. He scrambled out of the vehicle and ran toward the porch.

  His father stepped out first.

  His mother was right behind him, and she was cradling something in her arms. No, not something. Someone.

  EIGHTY-TWO

  Where are the boys?” Georgia asked, a look of alarm on her face.

  “They stayed in New Town.” Shelby put an arm around the older woman, explaining about Carter and Lanh as they moved into the kitchen and gathered around the old oak table.

  Max took a seat next to Shelby. “Tell us about the baby and the two graves.”

  “Her parents made it to the roadblock, but there was little hope that the mother would survive.” Georgia stared down at the tiny girl in her arms. “The woman had an infection of some sort. Doc Lambert did the best he could.”

  Gabe performed a cursory examination of the child as Roy fetched glasses of water for everyone.

  When Gabe finally said, “She seems to be healthy,” they all let out a collective sigh.

  “What happened to the father?” Patrick asked.

  “Shot.” Max’s dad looked tired, relieved that they were back, but tired from all that had transpired. He’d taken the news about Carter well—they both had.

  “Went after baby supplies.” Georgia raised the baby to her shoulder and rubbed her back in slow, small circles. “We told him not to. We told him we’d make do.”

  “He was shot? Around here?”

  Roy cleared his throat and pushed on with the story. “Thought he knew a place. He’d heard about a delivery truck, but he was shot before he even found it. Barely made it back, and by the time he did, there was nothing anyone could do.”

  “What’s her name?” Shelby asked, reaching for the child. She cradled the infant to her chest, one hand on the back of the child’s head, her eyes closed as she kissed it.

  “Grace. Her parents named her Grace. We promised…we promised that somehow we would take care of her.”

  “She’s a sweet thing, but I don’t mind admitting that Georgia and I are a little old for raising an infant.”

  Bianca sat forward on the edge of her seat, her eyes locked on the child. “We can find someone in Abney. I’m sure someone will be willing.”

  “No. We’re meant to take care of her—Max and I are.”

  Georgia gave her a shrewd look. “Max and you?”

  Blushing like a schoolgirl, Shelby buried a smile in the soft fuzz of Grace’s hair and shot a glance at Max over the baby’s head.

  “We’re getting married,” he said.

  “Married?” Roy grinned. “When?”

  “Tonight? Now? As soon as we can g
et Jerry over here.”

  Georgia wrapped one arm around Shelby’s shoulders, pressed her curls down, and kissed the top of her head.

  “All good things,” was all Roy said as he shook his son’s hand and then pulled him to his feet and into a hug, which ended with them slapping each other on the back.

  When his father released him, Max squatted in front of Shelby, reached out, and touched the child. The look Shelby gave him held such tenderness that he knew what her next words would be.

  “Right, Max? We can keep her, raise her, care for her?”

  “Of course we will.”

  Max had the horrid image of the man and woman not making it through the roadblock, of the child dying on the outside beside her parents. But that hadn’t happened. Grace was safe now, and she would remain that way if Shelby and Max, Roy and Georgia, Patrick and Bianca, even Gabe had anything to do with it. Because Shelby and Max might raise the child, but she would be a part of the family they had become.

  The light of dawn flooded the pastures as they walked back out onto the porch. Sunshine splashed across the landscape, gracing fields, pushing back the shadows, bringing the hope and promise of a new day.

  EPILOGUE

  High Fields Ranch

  Fourteen months later

  Grace toddled across the porch, landing beside the beagle pup they’d bartered for the week before.

  “Worth every penny of the fish I promised to take them for the next month,” Max had said as the pup chewed on his fingers. “Our baby girl deserves a dog to grow up with.”

  Grace squealed and reached for Dodger’s floppy ear, rubbing it between her fingers as Carter had done with his blankie many years ago.

  There was so much Shelby wanted to tell her son. Tell him—not write it in a letter that might or might not be delivered: their trip home, Bianca and Patrick’s move to Mason to be near Bianca’s sister, Gabe’s intention of finding a woman named Lenora, her marriage, Grace.