by David Nees
“We most likely stand guard all night,” Clayton said.
“Take shifts,” Jason added.
“We can bring a mattress out to the hall and sleep there when we’re not on guard. Best to stand guard outside. Hear better,” Clayton said.
With the arrangements set and Helen calmed down, Clayton headed outside with his AK to take the first shift. Jason dragged a mattress into the front hall and Helen put a sheet and blanket on the couch.
The night passed uneventfully. Helen must have had bad dreams as she cried out in her sleep. She woke each time Jason and Clayton changed over on guard duty. Each time the men had to calm her down.
At first light Clayton was up. Jason joined him in the kitchen as they scrounged up something to eat. It was a can of beans and a can of corn heated on the propane stove. Helen got up and went outside to wash her face from the pump. When she came in they persuaded her to eat some of the heated food.
“Big day. Got to fuel it,” Clayton said.
“Take some of the canned food with you. Even cold it will provide nourishment. We can’t pack canned goods,” Jason said.
“Take some water as well,” Clayton added.
After Helen had assembled food and water, Jason led her to the living room.
“Let’s pick a weapon for you,” he said.
He chose a civilian, semi-automatic Colt AR15. The action worked smoothly and it seemed to be in the best shape. There were nearly two hundred rounds of ammunition.
“We’re going to have you fire this so you can get a little comfortable with it. It doesn’t kick hard. But pack up what you’re going to take first. We’re going to make a lot of noise and after that, you’re going to burn that bed. That’s a lot of noise and smoke, so we’ll want to leave right after that.”
“We be attracting some attention for sure,” Clayton said. “Not sure this be a good idea.”
Helen started back to the house to gather her clothes and supplies.
“I know,” Jason said. “But Helen needs to try the rifle and she needs to burn this bed. Maybe it will help her feel like she’s had a victory over these scum.”
Helen packed up her things and came back into the yard. She loaded them into the pickup. Clayton set out some kitchen pans, on a bush at the edge of the front yard. He put the targets about twenty-five yards away.
“If you can hit these, you can put someone down. You let ‘em get this close and then open up. Be hard to miss.”
Jason showed her how to line up the front and rear sights and place them on the target.
Helen’s first shots were way off target, high and wide. “It’s loud,” she said.
“Keep at it,” Jason said. “Hold the gun tight to your shoulder. Line up the sights, put them on the target, and squeeze. Don’t jerk the trigger.”
By the time she had run through the twenty-round magazine, she could hit the pans.
While she was shooting, Clayton went into the bedroom where Helen had been tied and came back out dragging the mattress. He threw it in the middle of the front yard. Jason followed with the box springs. Then both men went back into the bedroom and kicked apart the cheap, wooden bed frame. Minutes later they carried two armfuls of splintered wood outside and threw it on the pile. Next Clayton found a garden hose and cut a length of it. He stuck it down into the gas tank of the pickup and siphoned out a quart of gasoline into a cooking pot.
Handing the pot to Helen, he said, “You pour this all on the pile. You’re gonna burn up your nightmare.”
Helen poured out the gas.
Jason took a rolled up magazine, went into the kitchen and lit it from the propane stove. He brought it out to Helen. “It’s for you to burn this down. Burn away the evil that was done to you.”
Helen nodded. “This is for Martin, this is for me. This bed goes to ashes and the men go to hell.” She put the torch to the pile and the flames rose up. The morning was still and the sparks and smoke rose straight into the air. The pile would soon be ashes. Helen stared at the flames.
Clayton looked around nervously. “Time to go,” he said. “We doin’ too much announcing.”
Helen turned to both men. “What about the ones you shot yesterday?”
“What about them?” Jason asked.
“Do you just leave them?”
Clayton looked at Jason and spoke, “As I recall, you promised to bury Ronnie.”
“I guess I did,” Jason replied. He turned towards the old shed. “I’ll get a shovel. We’ll do it on our way.”
When he returned with two shovels, he and Clayton hoisted their backpacks and slung their rifles over their shoulders.
At the pickup Helen turned to the men. She put her hands out and reached up to touch each man on his shoulder. “Thank you both for saving my life.”
“You’re welcome,” they said.
“One last word of advice,” Jason said. “If you run late, do not use your headlights. That’s too visible and could attract unwelcome company. Just find a cluster of vehicles you can park with, don’t use your flashlight, nothing to attract attention. Sleep with your rifle ready, a round loaded in the chamber and the safety on and keep the doors locked.”
Helen started to look at fearful.
“Don’t be afraid, this is just being cautious. It’s what we all have to do now. If you don’t make it today, you’ll finish your drive the next morning. You probably won’t have to stop, but if you do, follow my advice and you’ll be fine.”
She looked at him gravely, nodded, and turned to get into the cab. She started the truck and eased down the driveway.
“Turn right at the interstate.” Jason shouted after her. Her arm reached out of the window and waved.
“She’s gonna be all right. Gonna get there before nightfall,” Clayton said.
“Probably. She’s got wheels. It’s shank’s mare for us, so we better get going.”
Clayton looked at him oddly. “Shank’s mare?”
“Our own two feet. We better go, don’t want to be late.”
“We bury the kid?”
Jason grumbled under his breath. “Pain in the ass, but we did promise.”
“You sort of promised,” Clayton replied.
“Yeah, I did. And I appreciate your help. Let’s do it quick and get going.”
The two men walked down the drive way and headed towards the interstate.
Chapter 10
___________________________________
T he hike was uneventful for the next two days. As they got closer to Knoxville, however, they saw more people, many of them going south on the other lanes. The travelers eyed the two men warily, keeping as far from them as they could. In some of the stalled vehicles, there were bodies, now heavily decayed. They must have died in the cars, or been shot.
That night Clayton insisted on hiking into the woods to camp.
“It be too open here on the highway. Better if we go into the woods. We can find a spot that ain’t exposed, make a fire, keep watch easier. Hard to sneak up on us in the woods. Most people make too much noise.”
As soon as they reached the woods, Jason recognized the value of Clayton’s advice. They moved quietly and with confidence. Clayton was born a woodsman and Jason realized he had become one himself. They were in their element. It didn’t take long to find a place to set up camp.
That night they spread their ground cloths up against a rock outcropping that shielded them from the direction of the road. Clayton set some snares and they sat around the small campfire eating their MRE meals.
“You brought snares.” Jason remarked.
“Sure. Don’t weigh much, don’t take up any room, might get us a fresh meal.”
“Can’t argue with that.” Jason was coming to appreciate his companion’s readiness and ability to adapt.
“You got any plan for when we get to Knoxville?” Clayton asked.
Jason shook his head. “Not yet.”
“Ain’t good to get there without a plan.”
&n
bsp; “I’ve been thinking about it. Don’t know exactly what to do. We need to learn more about what’s going on in Knoxville. Need to stop somewhere to get information. And we have to try to do that without raising too much suspicion.”
“Maybe people think we be looking to join this Chairman.”
“That might work. But we want to probably be coy about that. Not make it too obvious.”
“So we go into one of the small towns outside of Knoxville. If any still got people in ‘em.”
“Hopefully one with some people and not Knoxville officials.”
Clayton gave Jason a sharp look. “You think they have officials in the towns?”
“Could have. Maybe some sort of administrator, representative…or some small police presence. If the guy’s trying to exert his influence on the surrounding territory, he’s got to plant some of his people in the surrounding towns.”
“That going to make it harder.”
“Trickier, that’s for sure.”
The men sat quietly, thinking, listening to the sounds of the night forest. There was an occasional hoot of an owl far off; the sudden swish of wings as the flying predator dove for an unfortunate creature. In the distance they heard howls and some barking cries. Jason looked over at Clayton.
“Wolves?”
“Coyotes more’n likely.”
“Could be trouble for us?”
“We’re far enough away and don’t have any kill to attract them.”
The night’s quiet was disturbed again. This time by a cry that sounded like a cross between a baby and a woman in distress. Again Jason looked at Clayton.
“Bobcat. More of ‘em around now. More game in general.” He put another couple of sticks on the fire. “Wild dogs be the worst. The one’s that survived start running in packs. Plenty of deer for them, but they’d go after humans as well. Coyotes, not so much. They still try to avoid people. Got to be careful of dogs though.”
Down the slope from where they were camped the ground grew marshy as a stream drained into a small pond nestled between the hills. A whip-o-will started up with its rhythmic call. It was a signature call of the night. Jason relaxed upon hearing it. The sound brought him back to the days of hiking alone in the mountains before he found Anne and the girls. The memories were both good and bad. Good with hope for the future and the feeling of peace he had found in the forest and bad for the sense of loneliness that had stalked his trek.
He shook off the memory. Remember the good parts. That’s the key. He made a silent promise to himself that he would get back to his family. He and Clayton would find a way to rescue Rodney and Billy; make the tribe whole again.
“Next inhabited place we come to, let’s stop and talk to them. Start learning more about what we’re up against,” Jason said.
“Let’s try not to get shot.”
“We’ll try.” He rolled himself in his blanket and stretched out on the ground cloth. “You taking the first watch?”
Clayton nodded.
“Wake me when you get tired,” he said to Clayton.
In the morning, after heating some water for tea, Clayton set out to check his snares. He came back grinning with a rabbit in his hand. “We got us breakfast.”
He set about gutting and skinning the rabbit and then skewered it on a stick and propped it over the fire. Soon the aroma of roasting meat wafted through the air.
“This is a whole lot better than sleeping on the side of the road,” he declared.
He pulled the rabbit off the stick and handed Jason a leg. They both dug into the meat with relish and the meal quickly disappeared into their stomachs.
“That beats MREs,” Jason remarked as he wiped his face on his sleeve.
“And canned meat and beans,” Clayton added.
The interstate followed the Pigeon River. They were heading north in the general direction of Douglas Lake. It was late afternoon when they came to a cluster of houses and service buildings. There was a collection of road tractors and trailers parked in a dirt yard packed down from decades of spilled oil and tires compressing it. The compound was on the west side of the highway with a local gravel road leading to the compound. There were enclosed van trailers and numerous open ones that looked like they had been used for sand or gravel hauling. They were sitting in the yard, unhooked, waiting to be called upon…for what, Jason couldn’t guess.
“Maybe there’s someone in those houses,” Jason said. “The place looks inhabited. Let’s check it out.”
“Carefully,” replied Clayton.
The two men walked across the median and the southbound lanes and climbed over the boundary fence. Once on the far side, they stopped to survey the compound. Everything was still. There was no sound, no movement.
“They’s tire tracks. Vehicles been moving around, not long ago,” Clayton said.
“Some older cars work. Maybe it’s the same with older trucks. That means there could be someone at home.”
“Let’s go slow. If we’re being watched we want them to have time to figure out we’re not a threat.”
The two men started across the truck yard. There were large, metal garage buildings to their left on the side of the dirt yard. Across the yard, ahead of them was a field that had once been a lawn with beaten paths through the tall grass. The paths led to two houses. They could see no one in the windows. When they got to the edge of field, Jason put out his arm for them to stop.
He put his hands to his mouth and called out, “Hello in the house!” There was no answer. He called out again. They stood in the open waiting to see if they would get a response.
From the repair garage, to their side and now a bit behind them, came a response. “Stand where you are. Don’t move or you’ll be shot.”
Both men stood still but swung their heads to the left. Standing in a doorway stood a bearded man with long, wild hair. He held a shotgun pointed at them. Jason estimated they were thirty yards away, close enough for a twelve gauge to be lethal.
“Should’a seen that coming,” he muttered. “We don’t mean any harm,” he called out. “We’re passing through and wanted to ask about how things are around here. We’re a bit nervous about getting closer to Knoxville.”
“I’ll be the judge about whether you harmful or not. Enoch!’ he shouted to the house. “Come on out here.”
The front door opened and another, younger man stepped out and started walking towards Jason and Clayton. He was dressed in jeans, a tee shirt with holes in it and work boots. He carried what looked like a bolt action .30-06, similar to the rifle Billy had carried.
“We have to fight our way out, drop to the ground at an angle and bring up your AK on full auto,” Jason whispered to Clayton.
“Already set it before we climbed the fence from the highway.”
The younger man also stopped about thirty yards away. He was careful to not position himself directly across from the older man. If shots were fired, the two of them wouldn’t hit each other.
“I got the younger guy,” Jason whispered. “You take out the shotgun.”
Raising his voice, Jason said again, “We aren’t looking to rob or hurt anyone. We’re just looking for information.”
“Like I said, we’ll be the judge of that,” the older man said. “Where you from?”
“East of here,” Jason answered.
“Where exactly is that?”
“Near Hillsboro.”
“Heard about Hillsboro. Heard they’re doin’ all right. Bet you got some goods on you.”
“Look we don’t have any goods. Just some camping gear. We’re hiking west.”
“Maybe we relieve them of some of their load,” the young man, Enoch, said. He grinned at them.
“If you’re thinking of robbing us, we ain’t going down without a fight.”
“You make a move, we’ll kill you on the spot,” Enoch said.
“Maybe, maybe not. At least one of you’ll get shot, bad, maybe killed. You willing to chance it? Could be either of y
ou.” Jason needed to sow a seed of doubt. It would slow them down.
“Let’s shoot them now and be done with it,” Enoch said. His voice now carried a slight note of anxiety in it.
Enoch raised his rifle to his shoulder. Just then the front door of the house opened again. A woman came out on the front stoop.
“George Nutter, you and Enoch stop this instant! No one’s gonna shoot anyone that comes to our house in peace. Not while I’m still walking this earth! George you put down that shotgun. Enoch you do the same. Just wait ‘till Joshua gets back. Your brother’s not gonna be happy about this.”
“Emilia, we don’t know what these men are up to. And they’re armed.”
The woman was now marching across the high grass, cutting a swath through it with a forceful stride. She had a homespun blouse on and a long skirt that reached her ankles. Her hair was graying and pulled back in a bun.
“I can see that, I ain’t blind. I also see my son aiming his rifle at them and talking about robbing them. Since when did we become bandits?” She was closing in on Enoch. “And since when do robbers stand out in the open and announce themselves?”
Enoch had lowered his rifle by that point. When the woman reached him she cuffed him on his ear, knocking his head to one side.
“Ow, you don’t have to do that, Ma.”
“Seems like I do, since you don’t seem to be using any manners I taught you. Get on back to the house. Me and your uncle will deal with these men.”
The young man turned back to the house.
She put her hands on her hips. “Now, what’re you doing here,” the woman said to Jason and Clayton. Her tone was as fierce as her face.
“We’re just passing through, heading west. We thought someone might be living here so we came over to ask about how things are around here. Can’t be too careful,” Jason answered.
“Fore we talk more, put your weapons on the ground and take off your packs. No one’s going to shoot you. Ain’t that right George?”
“No, Emilia. Wasn’t planning on it in the first place.”
“Could a fooled me…and you certainly fooled Enoch. You should a corrected him right away, not waited for me to come down here.”