Forsaken World (Book 3): Rite of Passage

by Watson, Thomas A.

  “Yep, and they were shot in the head before they turned,” Johnathan said, moving back to the camp. There were seven pickup trucks and two SUVs in a semi-circle around six tents. Two of the tents were torn open and flapping in the light breeze. All of the vehicles had small empty flatbed trailers. “We need to search for anything useful and get the hell out of here,” Johnathan said, moving to the first tent.

  “Why the rush?” Bill asked, following him.

  “Someone attacked this group,” Johnathan answered, unzipping the first tent he came to.

  Looking around at the site, “Yeah, but that was weeks ago, at least,” Bill said as Johnathan tossed out backpacks and duffle bags.

  Standing up, Johnathan pointed at the vehicles. “Bill, those empty trailers likely had ATVs on them, so some got away. Whoever attacked them knows and should be checking the area,” Johnathan said and then moved his hand, pointing at the closest truck. “All the vehicles here have been disabled.”

  “Yeah, so why would they come back?” Bill asked and Johnathan pointed at the stuff he had just pulled out of the tent. “Oh, supplies,” Bill said, then looked around.

  Moving to the next tent, Johnathan looked over at Ann sitting beside Bill and panting. “She’s not worried,” he mumbled, moving into the tent.

  As Johnathan tossed stuff out of the tents, Bill noticed something on the dirt road. “I’ll keep an eye out. There’s something on the road that I’m going to check out,” Bill said.

  “How far away?” Johnathan asked, moving to the next tent.

  “Twenty yards from the vehicles,” Bill answered, moving off with Ann beside him. Getting closer, Bill saw it was empty shell casings and metal links for a belt fed machine gun. Looking at the brass casings and how they were spread out in a circle, Bill knelt down. He saw 7.62 with scattered belt links and 5.56 brass casings.

  Getting up and walking around, Bill found seven M4 magazines. All within a twenty-foot circle. Grabbing the magazines, Bill ran back to the camp and saw Johnathan tossing stuff from one of the SUVs into a pile. “Johnathan, I think the military shot these people,” Bill declared, looking around the valley with wide eyes.

  “What makes you think that?”

  “All the brass was in a tight circle and they didn’t police their magazines,” Bill said, patting one of his tool pouches. “It looks like a chopper sat down because all the brass is blown out.”

  “Start going through this shit, so we can get the hell out of here,” Johnathan said, grabbing a small kerosene stove.

  Moving over to the pile, Bill dumped one of the backpacks out and spotted a handheld short-wave radio. “Let’s get the wives here, so we can do this faster,” Bill suggested, digging through the stuff and tossing the radio in the ‘keep’ pile that Johnathan had started.

  Climbing up on the SUV, Johnathan waved to the north. When he saw the wives leave the trees, Johnathan jumped down and moved to a truck. “I haven’t found any guns or ammo,” he said. “But I’ve found six rifle cases and two pistol cases.”

  “There had to be over two dozen people here and there is no way a chopper took the ATVs,” Bill said, tossing stuff he wanted in a pile.

  When the wives got there, they helped sort the stuff as the horses grazed around the vehicles. After Bill and Johnathan told them what they thought had happened there, everyone moved with haste. “So, you want to move during the day?” Sandy asked, stuffing the items they were keeping in an empty pack.

  “Not far, just away from here,” Johnathan replied, tying the stove and two jugs of kerosene onto his pack horse. Tying three duffle bags and two backpacks of stuff to the pack horses, everyone climbed on their own horse.

  Kicking his horse into a trot, Johnathan led them across the valley and up a wooded slope. Coming to a stop on the ridge, Johnathan looked back at the campsite over a mile away to the west. Turning east, Johnathan looked down at a small road snaking along the next valley floor and heading north.

  “We aren’t putting up the tarps,” Bill informed everyone, climbing off his horse.

  “Don’t need them, the trees are blocking most of the sunlight,” Johnathan replied, climbing off.

  Undoing his saddle, Bill slid it off and set it on the ground. “No, I just don’t want big blue spots under the trees if that chopper flies back over,” Bill explained, taking the blanket off his horse.

  Stringing a rope up, they hung up the blankets to dry and hobbled the horses, letting them graze around the trees. “We got two boxes of these trail bars,” Sandy said, passing some out. “That will do until food’s ready.”

  Grabbing a bar, Mary opened the topo book. Studying the page for several minutes, “Can’t believe we made forty miles,” she said, rather impressed.

  Two low growls sounded and everyone turned, looking for the dogs. When they saw both Dan and Ann looking south along the road, everyone stood up and reached for binoculars. Looking down the slope, Johnathan saw figures moving on the road below them half a mile away. Zooming in, he saw it was four stinkers heading north at a steady walk.

  Swinging the binoculars down the road, Johnathan didn’t see any more stinkers. Looking up the road, he spotted another group of nine about two miles up the road. “You know, to see stinkers this far from civilization really sucks,” Bill mumbled.

  “They are following something,” Sandy determined.

  Lowering his binoculars, “Since we have the kerosene stove now, we can slow cook the beans,” Johnathan said, looking over at Bill. “You and Mary want first or second watch?”

  “We’ll take first,” Bill answered, lowering his binoculars and moving to the pack saddles on the ground.

  Taking his ball cap off, Johnathan lay down on a blanket with Sandy dropping beside him. Both covered their face with their caps and were soon sound asleep.

  Feeling something tap his shoulder, Johnathan moved his cap and saw Bill kneeling over him. “Wake up call,” Bill grinned.

  “Damn,” Johnathan groaned, sitting up and noticed Sandy was already up. “You let me sleep late?” Johnathan asked, looking at his watch and seeing he’d slept for five hours.

  “No, Sandy got up about an hour ago to go through the clothes they grabbed at the campsite,” Bill said, dropping down as soon as Johnathan moved and then Ann moved over and laid down beside him. “I waxed the bow strings, trimmed and picked the horses hooves, they just need brushed down.”

  Putting on his tool belt as he walked over to Sandy, Johnathan smiled at Mary as she walked past him to get some sleep. Putting his cap on, Johnathan looked at the gear spread out. “Couldn’t sleep?” he asked.

  “No,” Sandy answered, holding up a camouflaged shirt. “This will fit you,” she said, setting it to the side.

  Kneeling down beside her, “Want to talk about it?” Johnathan asked softly.

  Shaking her head, Sandy held up a light camouflaged jacket. “No, I just want to get home,” she replied, putting the jacket in the pile she’d made for him. In his pile, he saw the crank radio he’d found and the short-wave radio that Bill had found. Then he turned and Johnathan chuckled, looking at Sandy’s stack. A digital camera he had tossed to the side at the campsite was sitting on top of Sandy’s pile. The camera was a useless item to him, but Sandy loved pictures and her cameras were in Hawaii.

  Leaning over, Johnathan kissed her cheek. “Me too, sweetheart,” he said, then moved over and patted Dan. “Have you gone over commands with Dan?”

  “Yes, as soon as I got up,” Sandy answered smiling, reaching over and rubbing Dan’s fur. “He really is a good dog. They both are.”

  “I’m going to brush the horses,” Johnathan said, getting up. When he grabbed the brush, Johnathan chuckled, watching the hobbled horses move to him jockeying to be first. “I’m brushing all of you,” he laughed and started.

  When he was done, Johnathan moved over to the gear, grabbing one backpack he had stuffed full at the campsite. It was an expedition pack and the previous owner must have been a mountain cl
imber, Johnathan thought. There were ten carabiners attached on a loop on the right side with a huge coiled climbing rope on the left side. All over the back, other climbing gear was attached.

  Johnathan had emptied most of the clothes from the pack, but had been tempted to keep the rock climbing shoes. He’d known they were nice because he had a pair almost identical and they were his size, but Johnathan had left them. Since this pack was black and tan, Johnathan was changing packs. It was bigger and better than the one they had painted for him in California.

  Grabbing his backpack, Johnathan moved to the other side of the camp to keep watch. Putting the packs down, Johnathan checked his bow and then set it down. Glancing around, Johnathan started emptying his old backpack into the new one. When his old one was empty, Johnathan set it to the side and pulled out the holster he had sewn together for the Ruger 22/45 pistol.

  Glancing around, Johnathan leaned back against a tree and pulled out four rolls of para-cord he’d brought from the campsite. Each was two hundred and fifty feet long. Two were black, one green, and one camouflaged. Opening one of the side pockets, Johnathan took out all the quick release buckles he’d cut off the other backpacks they had left.

  “What to do first?” he mumbled, then glanced around. Not seeing anything, Johnathan grabbed a roll of black paracord and started unwinding it.

  Sandy looked back and saw Johnathan on the other side of the camp cutting the cord. “What the hell is he doing now?” she wondered. Getting up, Sandy grabbed a towel and rag from the pile and moved over to one of the pack saddles. Filling one of the large bowls they used to feed the dogs, she stripped down.

  “Whore’s bath,” she grunted, wetting the rag. When Johnathan had told her that’s what washing from a small bowl was called in the Army, Sandy had laughed. Gritting her teeth, Sandy washed quickly in the cold water.

  Dumping the soapy water out of the bowl, she rinsed it and refilled it before pouring the cold water over her body to rinse the soap off. Looking at her hairy legs, Sandy cringed. “I’m not even going to look under my arms,” she mumbled, grabbing fresh clothes and getting dressed.

  Grabbing a toothbrush, she brushed her teeth and found Dan watching her. “I’m not washing you, so don’t worry,” she said with a mouthful of toothpaste.

  When she was done, Sandy poured some dog food into one bowl and water into another, then grabbed her dirty clothes. Stuffing them into her backpack and putting on her boots, Sandy moved over to check on the food cooking on the new stove. Lifting the top off the pot, her belly growled at smelling the slow cooked beans. Seeing they were almost done, Sandy put some rice in and put the lid back on.

  “Should’ve watched Ms. Penny cook more,” she said, moving over to Johnathan.

  Using two pliers, Johnathan was bending a large keyring. Standing to Johnathan’s back, Sandy watched as he took the collapsible stock off his AR before sliding the bent ring over the recoil buffer tube. Sandy grinned that she even knew that. Granted, she had shot weapons and hunted but until this trip, she had never taken a gun apart. Now, she and Mary could take all of them apart and name the parts after Bill and Johnathan had taught them.

  Johnathan used the pliers to tighten the keyring around the buffer tube and Sandy saw that he had bent a small loop off of the keyring. Grabbing the stock, Johnathan put it back on the buffer tube. “What’cha doing?” Sandy asked, looking back down the slope. Seeing the horses and Dan eating, she knelt down.

  “Making a tactical sling,” Johnathan answered, grabbing a small piece of braided paracord, one inch wide with one end of a female buckle. Attaching the end of the two-inch-long braided paracord to the loop he’d made in the keyring, Johnathan braided it closed.

  “Surgeons don’t know those knots,” Sandy grinned.

  “Nope, had to help Lance get his merit badges,” Johnathan chuckled, attaching another small braided cord two inches long to the front sling mount. “Don’t tell anyone, but I have used a few during surgery.”

  Looking down, Sandy saw a long sling made of braided paracord, one inch wide. At both ends were male quick buckle attachments with a female buckle in the middle. “The slings we have on our ARs at home are tactical slings, right?” she asked, watching Johnathan attach the long braided cord to the female end on the stock.

  “Yep, single point and you can change them to two point,” Johnathan grinned, getting up and clipping the end of the long paracord to the middle buckle. Putting the loop it had made over his head, Johnathan let his AR hang under his arm.

  Looking at the sling for several minutes, “You’d better have enough to make me one. I love that damn sling,” Sandy said, finally looking up at his face. “Once you put that one on my AR at home was when I started to like going to shoot.”

  Pointing down at a pile of buckles and large keyrings, “I have enough to make everyone one,” he grinned. Taking his AR off and laying it on the ground, Johnathan grabbed a small stick and started cutting lengths of paracord. Tying the ends to the small stick, Johnathan showed Sandy how to braid them.

  “That is neat,” Sandy said, pushing Johnathan out of the way and taking over.

  Smiling, Johnathan looked around and grabbed the roll of paracord to cut more strands. With the area clear, he started braiding. Glancing over, Sandy was shocked at how fast Johnathan was braiding the paracord. When she tried to match his speed, “Slow down, your weave isn’t tight,” Johnathan said, glancing around the area every few minutes.

  “Johnathan, you only helped Lance on his knots, you shouldn’t be that fast,” Sandy commented.

  Shaking his head, “No, I practice weaving paracord with the boys and Bill,” Johnathan told her and stopped when the braid was three feet long.

  Slowing her braiding down, Sandy sighed. “I miss him,” she said as Johnathan sat down and took off his tool belt.

  “I do too, sweetheart,” Johnathan said, attaching one end on the rear suspender where it split before going over the shoulder. Braiding the end closed, Johnathan put the holster he had sewn for the Ruger on the paracord. Putting the tool belt back on, Johnathan pulled the paracord to the adjustment buckle on his left side until the holster hung under his arm. Marking it, Johnathan took the belt off.

  Grabbing a female buckle, Johnathan slid the loose ends of Sandy’s cords through the end. “How do if I know it’s long enough?” she asked, weaving the paracord past the buckle.

  “You can adjust the length by pulling the belt through that end gap in that buckle,” Johnathan explained, moving to his tool belt.

  Pausing her weaving and looking around, Sandy shook a cramp out of her hand and then saw Johnathan weaving the end of the paracord to the left front suspender. “What made you think to take the sewing stuff from the house where we got the topo books?” she asked, starting her braiding again.

  Shrugging as he looked around and taking the holster that held the Ruger pistol off his left side. “Didn’t until I saw the sewing machine,” Johnathan told her, putting the tool belt on.

  Sliding the pistol into the holster under his arm, the six-inch-long suppressor he had made extended just past his belt line. “That will work,” Johnathan said taking two lengths of paracord at the bottom of the holster and weaving them through the metal holes in the heavy canvas tool belt.

  “I like it,” Sandy smiled, watching Johnathan pull the pistol out and the holster held in place.

  “Good, because I’m turning my old holster into a shoulder holster for you,” he grinned.

  They worked side by side while keeping watch and when Sandy had a tactical sling for her AR, she smiled. “I’ll start on another for Bill and Mary with you,” she said, watching Johnathan cut more paracord. “I’m heading back to the other side of camp.”

  Handing her the buckles she would need, “The beans smelled so good,” Johnathan grinned and could feel his mouth watering.

  Glancing at her watch, “Well, we’ll need to wake them in a few hours,” Sandy said smiling and leaned toward Johnathan.

/>   Suddenly, Johnathan reached up and grabbed her hard and she saw panic on his face. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Dan and the horses all holding their heads up. Before she turned back around, she heard the far off rumble of an engine. “Wh-,” she started and Johnathan pulled her to the ground.

  “Move back on the west side of the ridge,” Johnathan whispered before letting her go and crawling over to Bill and Mary.

  Grabbing her AR, Sandy moved over the ridge and dropped beside a large tree. Now, she could tell the noise was coming from the north and getting closer. Reaching Bill, Johnathan grabbed his shoulder, squeezing it. Bill tried to sit up and Johnathan held him down. “Vehicles coming. Wake Mary, so we can move back,” Johnathan said, letting Bill go.

  Crawling on his hands and feet, Johnathan looked like Spiderman when moving toward Sandy. Glancing over Johnathan, Sandy saw Bill crawling just like Johnathan, but Mary was crouched over in a low walk and getting left behind.

  The noise to the north was getting louder as Dan ran over and laid down beside Sandy, followed by the others. “I may not know much, but that much noise is coming from a lot of vehicles,” Sandy said as Johnathan pulled his binoculars out.

  Looking down the slope to the road at the bottom of the east side of the ridge, Johnathan felt his heart speed up, seeing two single seat UTVs riding side by side down the road and heading south. Behind them were two military HUMVEEs with huge homemade cattle guards mounted to the front. Following them with his binoculars, Johnathan knew they were doing at least forty.

  “Please don’t turn toward the reservoir,” he prayed softly. When they had passed the turnoff a mile down the road, Johnathan felt dizzy with relief until he heard more engines coming and swung his binoculars back up.

  Seeing two large 6x6 MRAPs side by side with snowplows on their front, Johnathan’s jaw fell open at seeing a line of semi-trucks behind them. A few of the semis had plows and those that didn’t, had huge homemade cattle guards mounted on the front. Next, were two more HUMVEEs and a procession of large pickup trucks and SUVs.