by Bobby Akart
“What about the families in the bunker?” asked Palmer. “They’re gonna be buried alive under the barn.”
Cooper circled around and held his hands out, urging calm. “Please, everyone. It would be suicide for three or four of us to go back up there now. We need to take care of Momma and wait for Preacher to return. Plus, Daddy should be arriving back at the ranch at any time. We don’t want to do anything that might jeopardize him.”
Lucy spoke up. “If I remember correctly, the bunker will provide enough oxygen for up to twenty-four hours.”
“That’s what Preacher said,” interjected Cooper. “There are a lot of people inside, and I don’t think we should risk waiting that long if we hope to save them. With no generator forcing air inside, they’ll use it up quickly.”
Riley was unconvinced. He stomped around the campsite, kicking at defenseless pinecones. “So I reckon we’ll just sit around the fire and roast marshmallows. I mean, sure, let them get comfy and cozy in my dang bed.”
“Young man,” said Lucy sternly, “that’s enough. Preacher was right and so is your brother. This thing has just started. Let’s get our heads on straight and wait for the right time.”
Dejected, Riley hung his head after the rebuke. “Okay, Momma. I’m gonna go watch the trail.”
As Riley walked into the dark woods, Lucy looked to Palmer. “Honey, go with your brother. You have the ability to calm him down better than any of us. You know how he gets. We’re gonna need his head in the fight. Okay?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Palmer leaned over her mother and kissed her on the cheek. She grabbed one of the rifles out of the back of Red Rover and jogged after Riley.
Lucy summoned Cooper by her side. “I need you to take charge, son, until your daddy returns. For years, he and Preacher rode around the ranch envisioning scenarios like this one. He’ll know what to do.”
She turned her attention to Sook and smiled. “Plus, we have Duncan home, who is an expert, and from what I’ve seen, Sook can hold her own too. We can do this, but everybody has to be pullin’ in the same direction. Right?”
“I understand, Momma. I’ll give Riley his space. Why don’t you try to get some sleep? Sook, would you mind sitting with her while I get all the weapons ready and magazines loaded with ammo?”
“Yes, Coop. She is my best patient.”
Lucy and Cooper chuckled at her response as he made his way to the back of Red Rover. With Sook watching over Lucy, the matriarch of the Armstrong family felt secure and comfortable enough to rest her eyes for a while.
Chapter 8
January 23
The East Woods
The Armstrong Ranch
Borden County, Texas
“It’s been too long, sis,” said Riley as he continued to fidget on the sandstone rock he’d been sitting on for nearly an hour. Full of nervous energy, he’d alternated between checking on his mother, walking up the trail to dig out another cache bucket, and forcing himself to sit on the rock.
Palmer didn’t want to admit it, but she had a bad feeling about Preacher. He should’ve been fifteen minutes behind Cooper at the most. They were a long way from the ranch house, which muted the earlier sounds of gunfire somewhat. But there hadn’t been any shooting for at least twenty minutes.
“Riley, I agree, but we’re kinda stuck at this point. If something has happened to Preach, then we just find a way to meet up with Duncan and Daddy to decide what to do next.”
“How long?”
Palmer had asked herself the same question. “I don’t know,” she replied truthfully. She didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but the realization of losing the ranch was beginning to set in. Worse yet, Palmer began to think of everyone inside the underground bunker, desperate to get out but dying of asphyxiation.
The two sat in silence until they heard the sound of rocks tumbling down the trail. Somebody was approaching.
“Stay here,” whispered Riley. “I’ll duck behind that rock outcropping and wait until I can see who it is. Don’t shoot until I do, okay?”
“Yeah, go!”
Riley hustled across the trail and wound his way through the boulders that lined the narrow path barely wide enough for Red Rover to fit through.
Each second seemed like an eternity as the sounds emanating from the darkness grew louder. To Palmer, the shuffling of feet and tumbling rocks resembled an old drunk who’d lost his way out of a saloon.
“Palmer! It’s Preacher! Oh no!”
Palmer slung her rifle over her shoulder and ran up the trail, stumbling slightly on the loose stones. She immediately recognized Preacher’s chestnut horse with its white stripe that descended from his eyes to his nostrils. Only something was wrong. The beautiful white snout was stained.
“He’s been shot, sis! Help me!”
Palmer reached the horse’s side and saw the cause of the stain. Both horse and rider were covered in Preacher’s blood.
Palmer tried to remain calm as she gave instructions to her brother. “Leave him on the horse, and let’s get them both to the clearing. Hurry, but be careful.”
Riley had a better idea. “I’ve got this, don’t worry. Run ahead and get Cooper to stand watch. Tell Sook to get ready. Sis, he’s still alive, and we can save him!”
Palmer ran like she’d never run before, dodging low tree branches and ignoring the unsure footing of the forest floor. Before she reached the clearing, she was shouting ahead.
“Coop! Coop! Come quickly! Preacher’s been shot!”
She continued running. Her heart was pounding, and the beats were thumping in her head from the exhilaration. She never heard Cooper running toward her in the dark, wooded canopy—until they crashed into one another.
Cooper, who’d kept his wits about him after he heard her shouts, managed to bear hug his sister. The two spun around but avoided hitting the ground.
Cooper remained calm. “You and Sook get ready. I’ll guide Riley back through the woods.”
“Go!”
Palmer took a deep breath and walked briskly toward the clearing. As she regained her composure, she realized the importance of avoiding a twisted or broken ankle on the dark path. Plus, she didn’t want to overly alarm her mother. At this point, she didn’t know how bad the gunshot wounds were.
When she arrived in the clearing, Sook was standing.
“What is it, Palmer?”
“Preacher’s been shot. Many times, I think. There’s a lot of blood, Sook. All over his body and his horse.”
Sook spontaneously hugged her best friend and future sister. “Palmer, we will pray and do our best with God’s help.”
Palmer allowed herself a smile and nodded. “Get what you need ready. I’ve got to break the news to Momma.”
While Sook gathered the medical supplies necessary to treat gunshot wounds, Palmer approached her mother. She could hear the guys coming through the woods, so she had to hurry.
She dropped to one knee and brushed her mother’s hair. Before she could speak, Lucy opened her eyes and said, “Something’s happened, hasn’t it? Is it Preacher?”
“Yes, Momma. He’s been shot, and I think it’s bad. We’re going to try to fix him up, but he’s lost a lot of blood.”
“Okay, honey. Bring him over by me. I will help you as I can. Is he conscious?”
“No, I mean, I don’t think so. They’re coming now.”
Lucy nodded toward Red Rover. “There are blankets in the truck. After you treat him, you’ll need to wrap him up to keep him from going into shock.”
Palmer stood and joined Sook at Red Rover. The two young women were being challenged, and they found themselves up to the task. Life in a post-apocalyptic world was about a test of a person’s will to survive. It didn’t matter if you were young or old, male or female. Every individual had the inherent ability to rise up and deal with these challenges.
For the next hour, Palmer and Sook worked at a feverish pace to save Preacher’s life. Even Cooper scrubbed in, so to speak, by d
onning sterile gloves and handling the wound-irrigation duties.
Using a combination of the advanced trauma supplies purchased by Lucy, which included Celox blood-clotting granules, two HALO chest seals, and an Israeli bandage battle dressing, the young women managed to get Preacher’s bleeding under control.
Lucy stopped them from attempting to remove the bullets from his body. His left foot had a gaping hole in the forefoot, with the bullet embedded somewhere amongst the tendons. His right arm had been grazed with one bullet, but a second was lodged in his triceps muscle.
However, it was the three gunshot wounds in his back that caused the most damage. There were only entry wounds, which meant the bullets inside him would begin to cause an uncontrollable infection. If Preacher didn’t get to an emergency room soon, he’d likely die under the stars of the West Texas sky.
Chapter 9
January 23
The Armstrong Ranch
Borden County, Texas
Holloway was surrounded by silence except for the occasional popping sounds of the barn burning behind him. He stood alone in the front yard, taking in the fruits of his labor. Just what the doctor ordered, he thought to himself as he admired his conquest.
He glanced around at the smoldering fire, which was quickly burning itself out. One of his lieutenants jogged out of the house and gave him a report. “The house is clear. One old man escaped on the back of a horse, but he was shot up pretty bad. At least four or five rounds. Do you want me to send a team to look for him?”
“Nah, there’s not a hospital for a hundred miles,” replied Holloway. “If he’s been shot that many times, he’s got a foot or two in the grave anyway. Make sure that fire doesn’t burn down the other barn, and set up a perimeter security. Nobody’s coming to the rescue for these people. If they ran off, which is likely, they won’t be stupid enough to return.”
“Yessir,” his lieutenant replied before he jogged towards the barn. He was shouting in Korean for his men to join him.
“Also, fire up the generators!” Holloway smiled and took one final look at the front of the house. “Now, let’s go in and check out my new digs.”
He strutted up the porch stairs with confidence, touching every piece of railing and wall as he entered the family room. The smell of a burned-out fire in the fireplace reached his nostrils, as did the smell of his three dead soldiers killed by Preacher.
He flipped on the light switch and took it all in. The house was a mess of broken glass, splintered wood, and death. The first order of business would be to clean up his new home.
Holloway hollered out the front door for two men to come inside and dispose of the bodies, followed by a thorough clean-up of the debris. His men immediately responded, which gave him the opportunity to take a self-tour of the Armstrongs’ home.
For the next thirty minutes, Holloway turned on all of the lights in the house. He entered every room and rifled through every closet. No drawer or cabinet was left unopened. He wasn’t looking for anything in particular. Holloway just wanted to see what the former owners had.
The initial excitement of his victory began to wear off as he became disillusioned at the lack of spoils normally afforded the conqueror. Where are the weapons? Ranchers were gun-totin’ cowboys, so he assumed, anyway.
Where are the hidden bags of gold? None of these people trusted banks. It shocked Holloway that money wasn’t stuffed under every mattress.
He picked up the Armstrongs’ family Bible and thumbed through it. There were records of old weddings and babies being born dating back to the 1800s. He examined the worn pages and the old entries in varied styles of handwriting. Obviously, it had been handed down from generation to generation.
“Their name was Armstrong,” he mumbled before tossing the Bible on the floor in the corner of the family room. Of course they were Bible-thumpers, he thought to himself.
Holloway looked at the pictures that hung in the hallway leading to the back bedrooms. Decades of Armstrong photos had been carefully positioned on the wall, from oldest to most recent. Holloway studied them for a moment. Then he slowly reached out and stuck his fingers underneath a picture frame. One by one, he flipped them off their hooks until they fell to the wood floors, causing the frames to crack and the glass to break. Without regard to the family’s history that adorned the wall, Holloway’s heavy frame and steel-toed boots walked on top of the photos, further scarring the Armstrongs’ legacy.
He made his way through the kitchen and was pleased to find a well-stocked pantry. The food provisions would supplement the food supplies they’d accumulated over the last couple of weeks.
Upstairs, he immediately discovered the master bedroom. This space intrigued him the most. To Holloway, the ranchers’ bedroom was their most personal space. This was their comfort zone where they laid their heads at night. This was the bed where they made the babies that Holloway had observed in the pictures.
These thoughts caused his mind to race. Holloway slid a chair to the corner of the room and sat down. His legs were sprawled out in front of him, and he clasped his fingers across his stomach. He’d never contemplated having a family. Since he had been discharged from the military, he’d led a life of mercenary activities and criminal enterprises. The apocalypse was his opportunity to shine, and now he’d fulfilled his dream.
Seeing the photos and the evidence of family life, which filled every room of the house, he had a sudden sense of emptiness inside. Should I consider finding a wife? Have kids? Raise them on a ranch like this family has done for nearly two hundred years?
A light tapping on the door startled him out of his daydream. “What is it?” he growled, annoyed at the intrusion.
“Sir, I have two men assigned to clean up,” advised his top lieutenant. “The fire is contained and will burn itself out soon enough. Perimeter security has been established. We do have one unfinished matter to address.”
“What is it?” asked Holloway as he stood to address his subordinate.
“During the initial gunfight, sir, the two men in the guard tower ran toward the oil and gas facility to our south. They appeared to have automatic weapons. May I send a team to eliminate any threat they might pose?”
Holloway looked around the master bedroom one last time and then considered his options. It was a loose end that could come back to haunt them. Their earlier surveillance indicated a small number of people at the petroleum facility, but they had a significant number of cows in what appeared to be a makeshift dairy operation.
“Yeah, go ahead,” ordered Holloway. “However, if there are any young women over there, bring them back alive. And a cow too. I’d like to cook a steak.”
Chapter 10
January 23
The East Woods
The Armstrong Ranch
Borden County, Texas
Sook was exhausted from working on Preacher’s gunshot wounds. After another change of Lucy’s dressings, she curled up to sleep in the front seat of Red Rover while Palmer took a shift watching over their two patients. Cooper and Riley continued to maintain a watch over the trail, which was the only direct means of ingress and egress from the ranch house to the east woods.
Palmer struggled to stay awake and periodically caught herself nodding off. She kept the fire going to keep her mother and Preacher warm. The guys agreed that the flames couldn’t be seen from the trail due to the dense underbrush of the woods.
She was able to keep Riley calm, and he came back periodically to check on their mother. The better she rested, the more convinced he became to wait for help. This was for the better, they all agreed, because none of them needed the stress of an overly emotional member of the group during a time of crisis. There was a reason for the axiom cooler heads prevail.
Palmer had just returned from gathering more kindling from the woods when she heard Preacher moan. He was stirring back to consciousness. Since his horse had delivered him down the trail, Preacher had been unable to respond to their voices or any type of sti
muli. They thought he might be in a coma but weren’t sure. Sometimes, when traumatized, the body forces the brain into a coma in order to rest. A loss of consciousness was similar and required constant monitoring.
Palmer and Sook had taken great care to keep Preacher warm, but dehydration was a big concern. They didn’t have the benefit of intravenous fluids. They kept his mouth moist with a damp cloth and a small syringe. They didn’t risk trying to force water down his throat for fear it would enter his lungs.
Palmer dropped the wood and ran to Preacher’s side. She took the wet cloth and held it against the gallon jug of water, allowing the moisture to soak in. After patting his forehead and face, she whispered in his ear, “Hey, Preach. It’s me, Palmer. Can you hear me?”
A slight smile came over his face, and he nodded, which caused him to wince. “It hurts.”
“I know it does. You were shot several times, so try to stay still, okay? Can you take in a little water?”
“Yeah.”
Preacher was too weak to lift his head, so Palmer gently slid her left hand behind his neck and assisted him. She squeezed the water out of the cloth into his mouth, allowing him just enough to eliminate the dryness in his mouth and throat. After she was comfortable that he could swallow, she allowed a small amount of water from the jug to enter his system.
He took some in and then nodded his head that he’d had enough. “Lucy?” he whispered.
Palmer gently laid his head down and turned it toward her mother. “She’s gonna be fine. See? She’s been sleeping since we finished working on you.”
“The boys?” he whispered.
“Coop and Riley are standing watch. Sook’s asleep in the truck. She did a great job on both you and Momma.”
“The others?”
“Not yet. Don’t worry about them, Preach. You need to focus on fighting, okay?”
With a considerable amount of strain and effort, Preacher lifted his left arm and motioned for Palmer to come closer. She leaned down and put her ear near his mouth.