by Chris Bostic
Somehow Austin heard her. “I can’t,” he said.
“Obviously,” she muttered.
We jostled around, slamming our shoulders into each other and the side of the truck as Austin made another pair of sharp turns, and took us onto a winding asphalt road leading out of town. Tree limbs crowded the narrow road, brushing up against the sides of the truck. I leaned my chest into my knees to keep a lower profile, and kept hanging on to Katelyn with one hand and the side of the truck with the other.
We started up a sharp incline. The beer cans skidded to the tailgate of the truck again, making quite a racket. I slipped lower into the bed of the truck, and hardly hung on as Austin raced us up the hill, motor whining in protest at the steep grade.
Once we finally flattened out, Austin eased up on the gas pedal. I straightened up long enough to get a sustained look at the remnants of Gatlinburg. We had a commanding view of the strip.
I noticed with concern that it was lit brightly like a busy summer evening. But rather than streetlights and the neon of shops, it was the flashing lights from a handful of police cars and headlights from a dozen military vehicles. A couple of fire trucks added to the melee, spraying water on the burned hulk that Austin had firebombed. The part of the town we hadn’t seen from the street was even more devastated.
Despite the activity, it wasn’t nearly as many vehicles as I’d expected. It sounded like so many more back when we were closer. Better yet, I scanned the sky and found no trace of the helicopter. It must’ve moved off to spy on somewhere else.
“Hang on a while longer,” Austin said. “We’re gonna have to off-road it.”
“You know where you’re going?” I asked.
“Sort of.” He pointed out the window toward the bottom of the hill at the end of the strip. “We can cut through here and come out at the end of town…right by the park entrance.”
“Right in front of everyone,” I muttered. “Just like I thought.”
“There’s no other way?” Katelyn asked.
Austin shook his head. “Afraid not. Gatlinburg’s a valley. Only way back to the park is through town.”
“We could wait it out…maybe?” she asked tentatively.
Austin gestured toward the flashing lights. “I don’t see this dying down. Better at dark than waiting for daylight.”
“We could hike,” I said without thinking.
“What about my mom?” Katelyn said. She sat up on her knees to look through the back glass.
“She’s comfy,” Austin said, though I didn’t necessarily believe him after the wild ride we’d had. At least she wasn’t balled up in the floorboard.
“I’m liking the idea of having the truck,” I told Katelyn. “And your mom needs it, of course.” My eyes drifted to the case of firebombs. “And then there’s the moonshine.”
“Speaking of that,” Austin said, “Pass me a jar.”
I had to shimmy down to the tailgate to retrieve the liquor. I pulled out a jar of the clear liquid and handed it to him.
He punched a slit through the lid with a knife, but didn’t pull out a rag this time. Instead, he tipped it back and drank from the hole.
“God, that’s awful.” He spat exaggeratedly before holding the jar out for us. “Want a swig?”
“Sounds great,” Katelyn deadpanned, “but no thanks.”
“Worse than lighter fluid, huh?”
“Like liquid fire.” Austin pretended to rub his tongue and continued to breathe heavily. “Who buys this crap anyway?” I’d have thought he’d sampled plenty of moonshine at school parties by then.
“No one anymore, and a good thing too,” Katelyn replied.
“You ready to make another bomb?” I asked Austin. “Maybe a little distraction?”
“If we need it, but I’m just gonna try to sprint outta here.” He turned back to the road in front of us and gunned the engine. “Hold on!”
CHAPTER 43
I flailed for the side of the truck for a handhold as we sprang forward again. Austin made a series of sharp turns, and we bounced like marbles. When I heard gravel spin under the tires and pelt the wheel well, I thought we’d careened off the road.
Katelyn looked at me with wide eyes. My reaction was lost in another death-defying turn, and next thing I knew we were headed back downhill.
The sound of tires sliding on gravel was unnerving. I closed my eyes and held onto both the truck and Katelyn with a death grip. If it hurt her, she didn’t complain.
The truck slowed abruptly, throwing up a cloud of dust to accompany the grinding of gravel. Then, with another lurch forward, we slipped onto a smoother asphalt road. My eyes popped open to find Austin’s arm sticking out the window.
“Take this!” he yelled, still driving like a madman on a thankfully straighter, smoother road.
I nudged Katelyn, she was closer, and pointed for her to grab the mason jar. She took it from Austin only to have him hold the lighter and a rag out the window next. I wished he would keep both hands on the wheel.
I tried to thread the rag through the hole in the cap while we jerked around another corner. My body tipped over, soaking my pant leg with a shot of moonshine. I righted myself, freaking out that I’d dumped half the jar on me. It smelled like it, though I was relieved to see the jar remained almost full.
Vacant buildings popped up on both sides of the road. I finally jammed the rag into the knife hole while Austin rocketed us down a straightaway toward the strip.
I turned the bottle upside down to soak the rag the way I’d seen Austin do it earlier. Katelyn was next to me with the lighter in one hand, a white knuckle grip on my leg with the other.
“Ready?” she asked.
“Almost. Just as soon-”
Another sharp turn took the words out of my mouth. We both slid against the driver’s side of the truck as we hit the strip. Upon sitting up again, I saw a military Humvee and a couple black Suburbans a block away, pointing toward us. In the distance, smoke but no flames poured from the building Austin had torched.
A dark figure sprinted out the door of an abandoned souvenir shop two doors down, heading straight for us.
I panicked and froze. My brother slammed on the gas pedal, spinning the tires in place.
“Wait!” Katelyn screamed.
“Hold on!” A man’s voice rose over the squealing. I sat up long enough to see the guy ten strides away and closing.
The tires grabbed, and I slid toward the back of the truck. With the jar still in my hand, I fumbled to take the lighter from Katelyn. It fell into the bed with a metallic clunk. She kept her eyes on the stranger while I retrieved it.
“It’s John!” she shouted, and I looked up to see hands reaching for tailgate.
Austin laid off the gas for a second, and I lurched forward. John crashed into the back of the truck with a thunk and vaulted into the bed, knocking the lighter from my hand.
“Ah, crap.” I flopped down to search for it a second time.
As he revved the engine again, Austin yelled, “Throw it now!”
Gunfire erupted from the strip as we shot up a hill toward the park entrance. A bullet whizzed past my ear, followed by several more pinging off the truck.
I didn’t have to tell John or Katelyn to get down. He was already on his stomach asking if we’d seen their mother. Katelyn shared the good news while helping me search for the dropped lighter.
The back window of the truck shattered as bullets continued to fly. Shards of glass showered my feet while my head was toward the tailgate fumbling for the lighter. And then I found it.
“Got it!” I yelled triumphantly.
I put the spark to the soaked rag, and flames roared to life. I almost dropped the jar, startled by the size of the foot tall flames.
“Throw it!” Katelyn encouraged, her fire-lit face glowing with excitement.
I pitched the jar over the back of the truck without sitting up, and somehow heard the shatter of glass on pavement over the roaring of the engine. The world lit up behi
nd me, casting weird orange shadows over the truck.
I peeked over the tailgate long enough to see what looked like a bonfire in the middle of the road. Any elation evaporated when two headlights poked through the blaze. A Humvee drove right through it.
John scrambled to sit up. “Great. That didn’t work.”
“Get me another!” I shouted. Katelyn moved to the case, but Austin didn’t reply. “I need the knife!”
The truck shuddered as Austin leaned over to reach. “Just a sec!”
As I crawled toward the front, he handed another strip of rag and his knife through the busted back window to Katelyn.
“Here,” she said frantically.
The fire seemed to have stopped the bullets, but the Humvee was still on our tail. I jammed the blade through the lid of the jar and tried to get the rag through the hole. It wasn’t easy with the truck climbing up the winding highway at top speed.
“Hurry up!” Austin said.
I quit working to check on the Humvee. “Same to you!” Our pursuers were hanging at most about a hundred yards behind. Way too close.
John held out his hand. “Let me.”
I shrugged him off to keep working at it, and Katelyn asked, “You got it?”
“Finally.” I tipped the bottle upside down to wet the wick. “Wish me luck.”
Austin slowed to round a sharper turn, and I noticed a park sign off the right.
“Welcome to the Smokies, indeed!” I lit the rag, and it sprang to life like a torch. The heat scorched my hand as I waited for the Humvee to appear. I couldn’t afford to wait long, knowing this was worse than holding a lit firecracker. I’d lose more than a few fingers.
I sat up to throw, feeling better about my chances this time. But the sound of a high-pitched whirring motor distracted me from the job. I looked around for a dirt bike; even leaned over the side sure I’d see something ahead of us. Nothing.
The Humvee came into view, and I threw the jar with every ounce of strength I could muster. It shattered on the pavement, short of the soldiers. Acid burned through my stomach like I’d taken a swig from the jar.
Katelyn moved to grab another from the case before we saw the Humvee plow through the flames. Next thing I knew, a wooden crack overpowered what had sounded like a motor bike.
I froze as the forest came down on us. A scream caught in my throat.
A giant tree fell from the roadside, heading right for us. Austin swerved, throwing me against the side. John rolled into me. With a crash, branches showered the bed of the truck.
The whole world shook as the massive trunk slammed onto the pavement behind us. I reached out for Katelyn as the truck skidded to a halt. With amazing skill, Austin had managed to keep us on the road.
Katelyn sat up dazed, leaves stuck in her hair. She brushed several out of mine as I ran a hand across her face.
“You okay?” I said, managing little more than a whisper.
“That was too close,” she said breathlessly.
John sat up tentatively. “You’re telling me.”
I looked at the fallen tree, then off to the woods. A shadow moved, confirming this was not by chance.
The high-pitched motor whined again, and I recognized the sound. Not dirt bike, but chainsaw. As several figures approached us from the woods with moonlight glinting on drawn weapons, I heard another tree splinter and fall across the park road well behind us with an earthshaking thud. The flames couldn’t stop the Humvee, but there was no way they were getting through the roadblock.
As the people closed on us, I waited for Austin to jam on the gas and take off again. He threw his door open instead.
“That was awesome!” he shouted. “Almost took us out too, but that was perfect.”
“Austin?” my mom called from the depths of the woods. “Is that you?”
“Yeah, who’d you think it was?”
“That was lucky, boy,” an unfamiliar man said. “You about got yourself shot.” He lowered a rifle and the others followed suit.
“Dad!” Katelyn bounded over the side of the truck, and stumbled before getting her legs under her. John and I hopped over to follow her, and we met the shadows at the edge of the forest.
Still dressed in camouflage, the adults from Katelyn’s camp gathered at the side of the road. As with the earlier mob, there were several other faces in the crowd I didn’t recognize. They wore dark clothes too, and had smeared dirt on their cheeks to blend in with the night.
Mom rushed to us and wrapped me in one arm and Austin in the other. Katelyn got the same treatment from her father. Her dad’s injured arm was wrapped in a sling using the bandana that had dried her tears earlier.
“Glad you made it out, son,” he told John while looking at Katelyn proudly.
“Someone forget about me?” Spotted Fawn asked. We whirled around and found her leaning against the truck. Katelyn ran to her, pulling her slow-moving dad behind.
“Thank God, you found her,” her dad said.
I couldn’t have been happier, or more surprised, to see Mrs. Jennings standing. She was obviously unsteady, but in good spirits. I brought my parents with me back to the truck to check on her, and she offered a hug for everyone, including me. Katelyn beamed with joy.
Before the reunion dragged on too long, my dad spoke up.
“We’d better get going.” He looked off toward the trees blocking the road. At least two more had been added to the pile by that point. “We’ve got more bridges to blow.”
“What’s going on?” I said, keeping myself rooted at Katelyn’s side. “And who are all these people?” I guessed there were around forty or so—about the same number who had been rioting in the streets earlier.
Mom looked at Dad. He gave a resigned shrug, which apparently was the signal for Mom to spill her guts.
“They’re some representatives from the other camps,” she said. “They came to meet up and help grab the last of the supplies.”
“Other camps?” I scratched my head and pulled more leaves out of my hair. “More than just Katelyn’s?”
“Oh goodness yes. Several more,” Dad answered. “There’s a bunch of folks spread out around here. Hers was just about the closest to ours…and, of course, your mom knows Spotted Fawn the best.”
That was a lot to process, and I ended up feeling left out. Not just from learning more of the whole truth. It burned having been stuck behind with the little kids too, but I pushed that away for the moment, happy to see we had help—and apparently a lot of it.
“So about these supplies…anything good?” I finally asked.
“All kinds of food,” Dad said. “Some of us went to restaurants, others the grocery store.”
That sounded promising, and confirmed why Katelyn’s mom had been at the pancake place. After all, flour lasts a long time—and I was more confident than ever that we were fully committed for the long haul. While we were still hiding out, I could see that avoidance was no longer the strategy. My parents, and the others, had a much more rebellious agenda in mind.
“It’s not just food,” Mom explained. “I suppose you’ve seen some of our new supplies in action…more chainsaws, rifles, ammo.”
“Yeah, and homemade bombs. It’s all stuff to fight a war, huh?” The insult that I hadn’t been invited grew again, and my tone became sharper. “And start a riot tonight too? And a shootout.”
“More like finish it,” Austin said.
Mom shushed him. “Sorry we couldn’t tell you the whole thing.” She looked genuinely apologetic. “That whole shootout or whatever wasn’t exactly the plan, though. I mean we knew it was gonna be tough. The town was crawling with cops and Feds, and now soldiers. We had a lot of good, important war-making stuff to grab before someone else got to it, and we thought it was best to keep you outta this.”
“We were worried about you, and you weren’t telling us anything?” I said, not really meaning to word it so strongly.
“It was the only way to keep you safe,” Mom said.
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I looked at Katelyn and her mother. “Good thing we were here to clean up your mess.”
“We’re fixing to make a bigger one,” Mom said, regaining a little bit of her prepper swagger. “That’s why we need to get going.”
Dad grabbed me by the shoulder and directed me to the bed of the truck. “Get on up in there.” He turned back to Katelyn. “I’ll get your mom back up front.”
“I’ve got her,” she said. I hesitated, not wanting to be separated from her. With a grin just for me, she said, “I’ll be right back, Zach. Save me a seat in the back.”
I watched Katelyn and my dad help a woozy, but coherent, Spotted Fawn back into the front seat. When she was settled, I assisted John in getting his father into the back of the truck with us, which wasn’t easy with his bound arm.
“You drive, no lights,” my dad told Austin, then hurried up the hill after Mom and the others. John headed the other direction.
“How are we driving? Didn’t you guys blow all the bridges?” I asked Austin.
“Not yet,” he answered. “Just the ones on our side of the highway.”
Our truck grumbled to life, drowning out a follow-up question. I watched my parents stop on the side of the road in the shadowy distance. Seconds later, a vehicle started up there too. Then more. The crowd dispersed, and apparently had stolen transportation to go along with the supplies from town.
Five vehicles led the way. Austin brought up the rear with Katelyn and her dad in the bed of the truck with me. Others, John included, stayed behind to resume dropping more trees across the highway.
This time we didn’t ping pong around the back. Austin took it slower, and my eyelids grew heavy as the tires hummed on the asphalt. Away from the fires and the decay, the evening air was clean and refreshing. Dryer sheet commercials were way off the mark. That evening in the Smokies was the way a mountain breeze was supposed to be.
CHAPTER 44
Before I could fall asleep, half the convoy of stolen vehicles, mine included, stopped on the shoulder of the main highway. I looked over the side of the truck’s bed and noticed we were next to the Little River Road where I’d walked with Katelyn earlier. We still had several more miles of winding asphalt to go up that way before we’d hit the turn off to Elkmont, and we’d have to walk there thanks to the blown out bridges. Nevertheless, it already felt a thousand times safer.