Dark Crossing

by Thomas A. Watson

  The night before last they had traveled ninety miles, pushing the horses very hard but they had wanted away from that area. Reaching the Verdigris River, they’d found a large island and crossed over. The horses only had to swim in short stints. Johnathan was glad because neither of the wives had ever ridden a horse while it swam.

  Nobody had wanted to take a night of travel off, but the horses and dogs were exhausted, so they had stayed on the island. Out of every place they had camped, nothing beat the island. During their trip, Johnathan had noticed stinkers wouldn’t go near water when they couldn’t see the bottom. Stinkers avoided it like the plague they were.

  For the first time since they had made landfall from Hawaii, everyone got rest and some good, deep sleep. It seemed harsh, since they had just lost Bill, that everyone passed out, but the human body would only tolerate so much abuse. In truth, Johnathan admitted they drove themselves to exhaustion to drive the sorrow from their minds, but it didn’t work.

  Stepping back from the riverbank and into the trees, Johnathan looked across the river to see a stinker walking through a field. A cold hate filled his heart, almost making Johnathan lift his AR up and pop the stinker. Then, reason settled in. “He died from a stinker, but only because of humans,” Johnathan exhaled, turning around. “In the end, we will all be a stinker, I guess.”

  Walking back into camp with Dan beside him, he looked over at Mary on top of her sleeping bag with Ann curled up beside her. Looking at the watch on his AR’s sling, Johnathan saw the wives had some more time to sleep. With Bill gone, they had moved to one person on watch. Each person took three-hour shifts.

  The day they had arrived on the island, nobody had fallen asleep until the late afternoon. That was another reason Johnathan wanted to take a night of travel off. If they hadn’t, there was no doubt in his mind, they would’ve made mistakes.

  From three that afternoon, the only time anyone had been awake was if they were on watch. When they got off watch, they would crash down, going back to sleep. Other than his heart hurting so much from the loss of Bill, Johnathan was feeling much better physically with the deep sleep.

  Sitting down on his sleeping bag, Johnathan made room for Dan as he pulled out the atlas and topo book. They would cross over into Missouri tonight, staying well south of Joplin and they didn’t have topo books for the states ahead. Laying the atlas down, Johnathan contemplated making a stop to look for one.

  “Not worth it,” he mumbled, picking up the atlas and placing it beside the topo book of Kansas. They had skirted the Kansas-Oklahoma border and were now eight miles into Oklahoma. The edges of Oklahoma were in the Kansas topo book.

  Hearing Johnathan mumble, Sandy sat up yawning. “You say something, honey?”

  “No, go back to sleep,” Johnathan said, and Sandy looked at her watch and saw Johnathan had taken her guard duty.

  Crawling over to Johnathan’s sleeping bag, “You took my turn,” she said, sitting beside him.

  “Believe it or not, I wasn’t tired,” Johnathan replied, looking at the atlas and then the topo book.

  Wiping her eyes, Sandy looked over at Mary with Ann curled up beside her. “I still can’t believe he’s gone,” she sighed.

  Closing his eyes, Johnathan reached over to squeeze Sandy’s hand. “Sweetheart, don’t,” Johnathan told her. “We have to move on and keep our heads in the game, or none of us will make it.”

  Returning the squeeze, Sandy forced her tears away. “This new world is bullshit,” she moaned.

  “When we get home, we will pay our respects,” Johnathan reminded her.

  “What are you studying so hard?” Sandy asked, leaning over. “You had our route planned this morning.”

  “Looking for rivers or lakes,” Johnathan told her. “Stinkers won’t come near them. I think if we find islands or even a peninsula, we could get sleep like we did here. On a peninsula, one person could keep watch easy.”

  Sandy leaned closer to the maps. “Are you sure? I mean, we saw stinkers in that stream in Utah,” she said.

  Giving a curt laugh, “Sandy, that stream was ankle-deep,” Johnathan said. “But thinking back, I’ve never seen a stinker get near water when they couldn’t see the bottom. Remember in Colorado, those stinkers wouldn’t cross that river after us? The water was dark-colored and was only four or five feet deep. Yet, they stood on the bank watching us go up the mountain.”

  Lifting her head up, Sandy looked off, thinking. “When we ran out on the dock to get in the boat in Hawaii, now that you mention it, the few stinkers that came out onto the dock never got near the edge,” she said, then turned to him. “You said they don’t breathe, so why would they be afraid of water?”

  Shrugging his shoulders, “Beats me,” Johnathan admitted. “But I’ve been standing out on the river bank and have seen bodies floating past.”

  Johnathan raised his eyes, waiting to see if Sandy caught what he’d said. Sandy’s eyes grew big and she sucked in a breath. “They can drown!” she almost cried out.

  “Yes, somehow, they can,” Johnathan said, patting her leg. “Even if those bodies were humans who’d drowned, they should’ve turned to stinkers. So, either they couldn’t, which doesn’t make any sense, or stinkers can drown.”

  Grabbing the atlas, “How many fucking rivers do we cross going home?” she asked.

  “Sweetheart, we aren’t out west anymore,” Johnathan said. “We are getting to the part of the journey I don’t like. We will have to find and cross bridges.”

  “The horses can swim,” Sandy stated, running her finger over the page.

  “Sandy, not big rivers,” Johnathan said. “Remember, we lose our rides, we are walking.”

  Nodding with a shrug, “So we will only make them swim across small rivers,” Sandy offered. “Where are you planning on stopping tonight?”

  Leaning over, Johnathan pointed. “There. See how the river forms a sharp bend? That’s called an oxbow. I’m sure we can find a peninsula around there.”

  Looking at where they were and then over to where Johnathan was pointing, “That’s only forty miles,” Sandy said.

  Patting Sandy’s leg, very proud of her, “Yes, it’s forty-two miles,” Johnathan grinned. “You didn’t even have to measure with a piece of paper.”

  “Please,” Sandy scoffed. “I stopped doing that before we reached Kansas.”

  Putting his arm over her shoulders, “Okay, I want you to plot our route from tomorrow’s spot to the next one. Keep the forty-mile rule because we are in hills again and we can’t wear the horses down,” Johnathan said. “Aim for water and avoid any population centers over ten thousand by thirty miles.”

  Studying the map, Sandy ran her finger east. “Can I stay on the unimproved roads?” she asked.

  “Yes, but always have a backup route on your main route,” Johnathan told her, watching her finger move across the map.

  “Here, above Cassville. There’s a river forming an oxbow,” Sandy said, then traced her route back.

  Pulling her into his side, “Very good. Now, make alternate routes to the north and south of your planned route with different stopping points,” he told her. “Don’t get near Chain-O-Lakes because there were a lot of people there.”

  After Sandy had alternate routes planned out, she looked up at Johnathan. “I make one above and one below, in case we have to leave the planned route?” she clarified, and Johnathan nodded.

  As she looked at Johnathan smiling at her, a cold hand gripped her heart, realizing what Johnathan was doing. Johnathan saw the change in Sandy’s face and knew she had figured it out. “Sandy, you have to learn this and so does Mary. Like you said, this new world sucks,” Johnathan told her in a low voice.

  Nodding her head and blinking her eyes dry, Sandy looked back at the map. “What else do I do?”

  For the next hour, Johnathan showed her how to plan her routes from far away to avoid population, and judge the terrain by the roads and streams. Even without topo maps, Sandy saw what Jo
hnathan was explaining. When he closed the book, Johnathan had her recite the route home.

  Now, starting at two hundred miles away from the cabin, Sandy recited the route from the western edge of Kentucky. When she was almost done, Mary sat up stretching. Before Mary got up, Sandy was done. Getting to her feet, Mary looked down when Ann leaned against her leg.

  “Thank you, girl,” Mary said, wiping her eyes. She looked back to where Bill should be lying beside her. Seeing the empty ground, Mary bit her lip to stop the tears before they started again.

  Sandy jumped up and ran over to hug Mary. Hugging Sandy back, “I’m okay. It just hurts,” Mary whimpered, fighting not to cry. “I have to be strong. I promised to get to the kids.”

  “And we will. We just have to be strong,” Sandy repeated, fighting her own tears.

  After a few minutes they released each other, and Johnathan patted the sleeping bag beside him. “Sandy had her lesson, now it’s your turn,” he said with a soft smile.

  “Uhhhg,” Mary moaned, walking over and sitting down beside Johnathan. As Mary recited the route, Sandy started coffee and food. Looking over at Sandy as she worked, Johnathan chuckled to see her mouth moving silently along while Mary recited it.

  Both Johnathan and Bill had worked with the wives on maps and planning routes, but after losing Bill, Johnathan wanted them ready if they lost him too.

  When Sandy brought coffee over, Mary was planning her alternate routes. “This is what Ian and Lance had to pass to get that merit badge?” Mary asked, looking up.

  “No,” Johnathan chuckled, and Mary sighed with relief. “What they had to pass was much harder,” Johnathan told her, and Mary’s eyes got big. “They had to use a map, protractor, and compass to find a fence post in different areas of a forest.”

  “I knew I should’ve been more active in Ian’s scouting,” Mary groaned, leaning back over the atlas. “I just put on ten pounds, trying to sell those damn cookies Allie and Carrie brought home.”

  “You weren’t the only one,” Johnathan grinned.

  “I had the cookie weight off two months later,” Sandy said, standing behind them and watching Mary.

  “Took me a little longer,” Johnathan admitted.

  After eating, they checked gear. Now, Mary was wearing the tool belt with Bill’s gear. She gave the magazine holsters she’d worn for the AR to Sandy. Now Sandy had so much hanging on her belt, her pants were being tugged down. So during guard duty, everyone had taken turns weaving suspenders for Sandy.

  While Johnathan and Mary saddled the horses, Sandy sat down and had to re-fletch a dozen arrows. They were now down to eighty arrows. Crossing the eastern side of Colorado, they had lost several dozen. A stinker’s head was a small target and didn’t stay still when the stinker walked. Nobody ever looked for an arrow at night if they missed.

  When she was done, Sandy packed up the bow repair kit and stuck the repaired arrows on her pack horse, so the glue could dry. Checking her AR, “Johnathan, I want to lead some tonight,” Sandy said.

  Happy to hear that, Johnathan looked over at her somewhat shocked. “Um, sure, sweetheart,” he replied. “Just tell me when.”

  “Starting off,” Sandy said, press checking her AR. Seeing brass, she let the bolt go and tapped the forward assist, then closed the dust cover.

  “I’ll take the back,” Mary said, closing the dust cover on her AR. “Sandy, how about we swap every few hours?”

  Thinking for a second, Sandy nodded. “Okay,” she agreed. “Johnathan, you stay in the middle and tell us what we aren’t doing.”

  With a genuine smile, Johnathan nodded. “Very well,” he said, very proud of them. “Keep Dan with you then.”

  As the sun started dropping below the horizon, they walked around one last time, making sure they had everything. Climbing up on her horse, “Think they will have to swim again?” Sandy asked.

  “Yeah, the east side looks deeper than the west side, but the current isn’t that fast,” Johnathan advised. “Just make sure you look across the river and guide them to where they can get out.”

  “It’s flat on the other side,” Sandy said, turning her ball cap around backward.

  Laughing, “It’s not always like that,” Johnathan assured her.

  Taking a deep breath, Sandy guided her horse through the trees to the river. Her horse just walked right in, heading for the other bank. Feeling her guide rope for her pack horse pulling, Sandy reached back yanking it. “Get your butt in the water,” she snapped over her shoulder.

  Johnathan had Bill’s horse leading his pack horse and Mary had Bill’s pack horse trailing hers. When they stopped in the morning, Johnathan made up his mind to talk about swapping out on Bill’s horse. This way, the horses would get a break.

  When her horse walked up the opposite bank, Sandy took off her sunglasses as the light faded and pulled her bow from her saddle. Resting the bow across her saddle, she cradled her AR and guided her horse across the field.

  Hearing hoof beats, she turned to see Johnathan pull up beside her. “Sandy, when you cross a boundary like that, look back and make sure everyone has crossed before moving on,” he told her.

  “Shit, forgot,” she groaned. “I’ve seen you and Bill do that like a hundred times, I should’ve known.”

  “Sweetheart, it’s okay,” Johnathan assured her. “Keep scanning and every few minutes, glance back to make sure you have everyone.”

  “Okay,” she nodded with determination. “My horse is doing a four-mile-an-hour walk now, right?”

  “Yeah, about that. Remember your route and the points you cross, then you can figure out if you have to speed up to reach the stopping point. Now, we really want to be bedded down before sunrise,” Johnathan explained, pulling back.

  Glancing back, he saw Mary looking around behind them. Pulling back more, Johnathan fell in beside her. “Every ten minutes, turn back and watch for a good minute. This way, you can tell if anyone is sneaking up on us. On roads, look back longer,” Johnathan instructed, and Mary nodded. “Look for breaks in bushes or unnatural outlines in the trees around us.”

  Very tense and with her head constantly swiveling side-to-side, Sandy kept a southeast heading and they only ran into a few stinkers. Most were near Interstate 44. At midnight, Sandy and Mary swapped places and they swung onto Hwy 60 to cross the upper Lake O’ the Cherokee.

  Mary stayed on the median as they approached the bridge when Johnathan pulled up beside her. “Hold and watch,” he said, pulling his horse to a stop.

  “Stinkers are close,” she whispered, seeing several had noticed them and were closing.

  “We will take care of them,” Johnathan said, lifting his bow. “Look ahead for glints of light or noise that could be people watching the bridge.”

  Gritting her teeth hard, Mary nodded. “Got it,” she almost growled.

  “Mary, don’t get sidetracked. If you see something you don’t like, we change routes,” Johnathan reminded her as he pulled his bow back, releasing the arrow. The arrow streaked over the road to hit a stinker thirty yards away. “We can deal retribution later. We don’t have the ammo right now.”

  Taking a deep breath as she stared ahead at the bridge a mile away, “I understand, I’m sorry,” she mumbled.

  “Hey, don’t be sorry,” Johnathan huffed, climbing off his horse. “I almost told you two to head on, so I could go back for the cocksuckers.”

  Hearing the anger in Johnathan’s voice, Mary smiled, hardly blinking as she scanned for anything near the bridge. “Glad you didn’t. Don’t know if we can make it without you,” she confessed.

  Pulling his arrow out of the stinker, Johnathan saw Sandy shooting one coming out of the woods. “That’s why I’m here,” Johnathan admitted, putting the same arrow back in his bow. Pulling his bow back, he aimed at a stinker to their front.

  Sandy climbed off her horse and retrieved her arrow, hearing Johnathan shoot. She turned to see a stinker in front of Mary drop. Yanking her arrow out of the youn
g boy stinker, Sandy reached down and patted Dan who was looking around. “Good boy,” she praised, moving toward her horse.

  After ten minutes, Johnathan let Mary lead them to the bridge. Sandy cringed when she led her horse onto the road so they could cross the bridge. The clatter of hooves made all the stinkers on the bridge turn toward them.

  Leading his horse by the reins, Johnathan moved up beside Mary and passed over his reins, so she could lead his horse. Stepping in front of Mary, Johnathan pulled his bow back to shoot a stinker that was charging them. Releasing the arrow, Johnathan reloaded and pulled back his bow, shooting another one.

  Looking down the mile they had to go to cross the bridge, Sandy could see fifty to sixty shadows of stinkers on the bridge. “Honey, that’s an awful lot,” Sandy whispered, glancing back and seeing the stinkers behind them still following, but not getting closer.

  Continuously shooting, Johnathan’s arm was getting tired by the time they were halfway across. That’s when Sandy pulled up and climbed off her horse. “I’ll clear,” she said, tucking the reins in her suspenders.

  “Just need a breather,” Johnathan admitted, shaking his arm and then moving up to pull his arrows out of two stinkers.

  “Honey, you’ve shot fifty-one in thirty minutes,” Sandy informed him, pulling her bow back and releasing an arrow.

  “Yeah, I emptied my quiver back there and had to run ahead to get my ammo back before we reached this pack,” he said, wiping his arrows off and putting them in his quiver.

  As Johnathan turned and walked backward to watch behind them, Mary cleared her throat. “Johnathan, when should I help?” she asked.

  “Shit, Mary, I’m sorry,” Johnathan said. “You should have your .22 pistol out covering us. Just shoot if you think we are in danger. Because if you shoot, we will have to move fast. That Mark 3 is quiet, but will still bring attention.”

  Pulling the pistol out of the shoulder holster, Mary nodded. “Moving fast that’s not planned, always leads to mistakes,” she recited, looking ahead as Sandy dropped a stinker and quickly reloaded to shoot another one.