Kiamichi Reunion: Book Five of the Kiamichi Survival Series

by C. A. Henry

  “People are going to become even more desperate, which means our trip will be much more dangerous than it’s been so far. We need to think hard about what we’re going to do, and probably be ready to shift gears if the situation changes,” she concluded.

  “I’m sorry,” Jeff said. “This delay is my fault. If it wasn’t for me, you could have gone on your way, instead of being stuck here. I think that as soon as the weather clears, you two should go on. Your food will go further, and you might be able to make it before winter really sets in.”

  “No way!” Stevie insisted. “If we left you here, what would you eat? You have no supplies, not even a jacket. I’d feel like we deserted you. No. I trust the Lord that He’ll help us find a way. Even if we stay here all winter, I don’t think we should split up. We said we’re a team. Teams work together, and I think we need to pray and think, and be ready for whatever the Lord sends to help us. I don’t believe He’d bring us this far, put us together, then leave us to die.”

  “I agree,” Helen stated without hesitation. “There’s a reason we’re together. Maybe while Stevie scouts for inner tubes, she can also try to find some food. Surely there’s some food around here somewhere.”

  “Most of it has probably been scavenged already.” Jeff sounded discouraged. “All the people moving around, looking for things they need…anything useful or edible is most likely long gone.”

  Helen chuckled. “I think a lot of the smart people were prepared to survive trouble. A lot of the not-so-smart have already died. Some of these farms are pretty remote and the houses are far apart. We overheard some guys talking about how they needed to get to a town so they could find food. They weren’t exactly rowing with both oars. In fact, none of the people Stevie and I have encountered were the kind who’d be invited to a Mensa picnic.”

  Jeff grinned. “You mean they were a few stars short of a galaxy?”

  “An experiment in Artificial Stupidity,” Helen shot back.

  Stevie was trying hard not to laugh, but a few snickers began to slip out.

  Jeff thought for a moment, and said, “No grain in the silo?”

  “Yeah, suffering from delusions of adequacy.”

  “A few cents short of a dime,’ Jeff laughed.

  “An IQ of room temperature,” Helen replied.

  “A mind like a steel trap: rusty, and illegal in thirty-seven states!” Jeff answered.

  Stevie’s giggles broke loose, and tears streamed down her face. “Oh, wow. Thank you! I needed that. It’s been a while since I laughed.”

  As the chuckles died down, Jeff snorted. “Helen, you just threw down the gauntlet. The war has commenced.”

  “Bring it on, buddy. I’m ready.”

  ~~~~

  The worst of the storm passed, but it was still raining the next morning. When Helen looked out the window, she was pleased to see fog.

  “Stevie, now might be a good time for you to start snooping around. It’s foggy, and with your hearing, that’s an advantage. I have a feeling it’s colder out, too, so dress as warmly as you can, and you can wear my rain slicker. It won’t keep you completely dry, but it’ll help. Do you know where you’ll start the search?”

  Stevie nodded. “When we came through at the other end of this field, I saw some buildings beyond the trees, to the south. I bet it was the house and barns of the owners of this place. If there’s anyone around, I won’t approach. I’ll just go somewhere else, probably east.”

  “Sounds like a plan. I wish we could all go, but maybe it’s better if you go alone. I don’t like it, but one person can move more quietly than three. You be careful.”

  Jeff sat on his bed, stretching and yawning. “I second that. Keep your eyes and ears open, all the way around. Don’t get so focused on what’s in front of you that you let someone sneak up on you from behind or from the side. If you find something, don’t try to carry it all back at once. Having both hands full and trying to stay unobserved is a good way to get in a bind.”

  “If I do find something, how will we get it back if I don’t bring it?” Stevie protested.

  Helen glanced at Jeff. “You use your own judgment, but just make sure you come back. I can go with you on the next trip. If you find some supplies in a place that’s a better shelter than this one, come and get us.”

  Jeff added, “I’m getting better. I can manage to go, too, but I can’t carry much, except on my back. I’d give a lot to get back the supplies that were stolen from me, and especially my backpack, but that’s not likely to happen. Just stay alert, kid. Don’t take any chances unless you have to.”

  “If you get too far away, you won’t be able to get back before dark. The fog will clear off if the sun comes out, so keep an eye on the weather and the time. If you have to, find shelter and hole up for the night, but I hope that doesn’t happen. I’m going to be praying all day for the Lord to keep His hand over you.”

  Stevie listened as she got ready, and when Helen mentioned praying, she grabbed Helen’s hand, then Jeff’s and said, “We better start that praying now, huh?”

  ~~~~

  Stevie crouched in a cluster of trees near a rambling farmhouse and some outbuildings. She had a good view of the front and side of the house, but couldn’t get to it without exposing herself. She watched for several minutes, then moved quietly around through the trees to the other side.

  From there, she could see that the back yard was fenced and the outbuildings were mostly outside the fence. One small storage building was in the yard, but the door stood open and from what she could make out, it contained the usual gardening implements.

  So, what should I do now? she thought. There’s no sign of anyone. The grass is high, like they haven’t mowed the lawn in a long time, and it doesn’t look like anyone has made a path through it. That window over there is open, and I can’t imagine why anyone would want this cold air and dampness inside their house.

  She crept further around in the same direction and noticed a small doghouse in the yard. Toys were scattered around, and there was a volleyball net, sagging from poles that were about to fall over.

  She scanned the perimeter of the large fields that bordered the homestead on the south and west, letting her eyes search for anything unusual. Nothing moved, except the thinning fog and a few leaves on the trees, rustling as the slight breeze wafted through them.

  Hesitating, Stevie looked around again, then slowly examined every building she could see. Barn, shed, chicken house, home…all looked abandoned. She took a deep breath, and darted, crouched low, across the open space to the door of the barn. It was partially open, and she slipped through, immediately stepping to the right so she wouldn’t be backlit by the light outside.

  She froze, slowing her breathing and allowing her eyes time to adjust to the dimness. It smelled dank, like musty hay that had gotten wet. Underlying that aroma was a hint of manure. Glancing around, she could see harnesses and other tack hanging on pegs, and four homemade saddle racks sat empty in a corner. She glanced at the floor and saw no sign that anyone had been around recently.

  The barn had stalls on both sides, but there were no animals present. She stepped over to a stall and peered in. Ah. Horses. And nobody has mucked these stalls in a while. That poop is dried out pretty good. Checking the plastic waterers in the stalls, she found all of them dry, and all of the six stalls had droppings. As neat as the rest of the barn is, I don’t think these people would have muck in the stalls if they had time to clean them, she decided. I bet they rode their horses somewhere else.

  A few sacks of feed were stacked in a corner and it was obvious that mice or some other rodents had been at them. Grain was scattered and there were several holes in the bags. Another bag lay empty nearby. Nine Lives kitty food. Yeah. There’s nobody home, and evidently, they left the door open so the barn cats could get out.

  Stevie stepped over to the rear door and slid it open just a tiny bit. She scanned the area, checking it very slowly, then took a deep breath, and open
ed the door enough to slip out, making a dash for the chicken house. There she found a few eggs, but no chickens. This door had also been left open, and there were no chickens in sight.

  If the chickens were still around, they’d have been into that feed in the barn, but there weren’t any scratch marks around there. Chickens will eat anything. Either the people took the chickens with them somehow, or they left them, and someone came while they roosted at night and grabbed them. No telling how long those eggs have been there.

  She checked the surroundings again, then headed at a run back to the barn. Just outside the door, she noticed some narrow, deep ruts, and some crisscross marks in the dirt nearby. I bet they had a wagon! She grinned. Pretty smart to be that prepared. I’ll probably never know for sure, but I bet they had cages to transport the chickens. That would explain those checker-board marks on the ground. With a wagon to haul stuff in, chickens would be too valuable to leave behind. They probably have family nearby or knew of a good place to run to. I bet I find evidence inside the house that they left in a hurry.

  Making her way through the barn again, she stood to the side of the open front door and looked for the best way to try entering the house. There was a gate in the corner of the yard closest to the barn, so she examined the back door, wondering if it was locked.

  If they came out the back, they might have left it unlocked, but if they drove the wagon around to the front to load their supplies, the back door might be locked. Oh, phooey. I’m just speculating. Someone probably came out the back to get the wagon, so there’s no way to guess which one, if either, are unlocked. They might both be open, or both locked. This isn’t productive. I’m going to have to get out there and try one or the other.

  She decided to head to the back. It was closer, so she closed her eyes, thought a quick prayer, and set out on a dead run for the back gate. She was scared, but this had to be done. As she ran across the yard, her brain registered a garden space that was almost overgrown with weeds and grass. Whoever had lived there hadn’t been around to plant anything, from the looks of it.

  The concrete patio was covered by a metal roof. A gas grill sat at one side, and a picnic table squatted near it. A small dog’s chew bone lay under the table, and Stevie had a moment of nostalgia. Cooking on the grill with Dad, and Mom in the kitchen, making deviled eggs, she thought, but then she made herself cut the daydream off before it could break the walls she’d built around her heart. Dad is probably dead, and I’m sure Mom is, so no use thinking about it.

  The back door wasn’t unlocked, but someone had kicked it hard enough to splinter the door frame. It was open a couple of inches, but she shoved it hard, running in without hesitating. My choices were enter fast, or stand out there where anyone around could see me. I’m betting the house is empty, and if I’m wrong, I’m in deep trouble.

  Her Glock in hand, she listened. There wasn’t a single sound to be heard inside, except her own breathing. She struggled to stay quiet and continued to listen. The place had that feeling of emptiness that houses get, an air of abandonment. Dust covered every surface, and she caught a faint hint of mildew odor.

  She was in a kitchen. Tidy and decorated with apple wallpaper, it looked homey, like a picture in a magazine about country living. She could see into a living room and noticed a hallway to the left. Studying the tile floor, she saw nothing but undisturbed dust.

  Well, here we go, she muttered to herself, and edged down the carpeted hall. The doors to four large bedrooms stood open, and she knew at a glance that this family had at least two college-aged sons, a little girl, and a grandma living with them. One bedroom was painted blue and decorated with sports posters and Native American art. Trophies were lined up on shelves mounted near the ceiling all the way around the room. The open window was the source of the mustiness she’d noticed earlier. Rain had soaked the carpeting and mold was growing there and on the wall. Reminds me of my old gym bag. Stevie grinned, and glanced at the articles of clothing strewn on both beds. It was obvious that the boys had packed what they needed without bothering to be neat about it.

  The second room was very feminine, with pictures of Indian children playing games. Dolls in Native American dress and stuffed animals filled a wide bookcase, but there were empty spots, and Stevie hoped the child had been able to take her favorites with her.

  “Grandma’s” room had a quaint air about it. It was exceptionally neat, and Stevie was sure the old lady would be appalled at the dust that now covered her dresser. Plastic boxes of beads and jewelry-making tools sat on a table and an antique lamp sat on a nightstand. Framed photos covered most of one wall, and Stevie stopped a moment to look at the people whose home she suddenly felt she was invading.

  She’d been right. In a group picture, a tall, lean man with dark skin stood next to a short, slightly plump woman, with two very handsome sons flanking them. An older woman, who from the resemblance to the tall man was probably his mother, sat in a chair in front of them, a beautiful little girl about five standing beside her, clutching a doll. It seemed obvious to Stevie that this family was Native American. Their smiling faces touched something in Stevie, and she began to cry, suddenly overcome by the loss of her own family.

  She wrapped her arms across her waist, bending, unable to stay upright, and cried for the mother she hoped hadn’t suffered long. She wept for the little brother who had been so foolishly brave, and she gasped in pain at the thought that she couldn’t have saved them. She sobbed out loud at the memories of the fights her parents had, and how her father had left them without any protection. Her anger at him grew until she forced herself to regain control, then she sat on the bed and dried her tears with her sleeve.

  Letting her emotions loose had relieved something tight inside her. She’d held it all in for so long: the grief, the anger, the fear. Taking a deep, ragged breath, she stood and faced the photos again, then closed her eyes and bowed her head.

  Lord, these people are strangers to me, but I ask that wherever they are, you watch over them and keep them safe. Forgive me for entering their home uninvited, and please, if I find anything we need, forgive me, and help them forgive me, for taking their stuff.

  She looked at the other pictures. The two boys in football uniforms, and a snapshot of one boy standing on a pitcher’s mound; the other boy on a golf course, and both of them on a basketball court. The girl at a dance recital. A larger photo of all of them with several other people, probably aunts, uncles, cousins. This was a happy family, a good family. I wish I knew them.

  Giving herself a shake, she moved to the last bedroom. It held a king-sized bed with a forest green bedspread. A second bathroom opened to the right, and she stepped in to look around. There was a plastic bag from a grocery store on the counter, and inside, she found a few little soaps and bottles of shampoo and lotion from hotels. She stuffed the bag into her backpack, smiling at the thought of being clean again.

  I bet they meant to take that with them, but forgot it. Well, if they haven’t been back yet, they probably won’t be back until this is over, and we might need these toiletries.

  Okay. They’re gone. It’s obvious that they took most of their clothes, because the closets are pretty much cleaned out and they have way too many empty hangers. I guess I could use the hoodie one of the boys left on his bed, and I need to check the kitchen and garage, too. Then that garden shed is next, if I still haven’t found anything that will help us cross the river.

  She went to the boys’ room and grabbed the hoodie. Then, making her way back to the kitchen, she checked the pantry and cabinets, taking three each of the knives, forks, and spoons from a drawer, and some packets of salt and pepper. There wasn’t any food left, so they must have taken it all with them.

  Next, she opened a door on the other side of the kitchen, finding a garage with a Ford Expedition and a Chevy Silverado pickup. Hanging high on the wall, on metal brackets, was paydirt: inner tubes, aired up and ready to go, but there were only three, and they needed at least four.
Each of them needed one, and they’d have to have an extra one to float their packs. Anyone wearing a heavy pack would be in danger of drowning; it was a chance they couldn’t take.

  On the other side of the garage, shelves lined the wall, with plastic tubs labeled neatly. Christmas decorations, camping gear, several more sports trophies…and an inflatable unicorn.

  It was white, with a pink and purple flower garland printed around its neck. The mane and tail were made of long, shiny fibers that were bright pink, and the horn was metallic gold. It was larger than she’d expected, much bigger than a little child would need, but the ample size was good.

  Knowing that she needed to get back to the little cabin, she gave the house one last walk-through, and stepped to the front door. It was close to the woods, and she didn’t want to be in the open more than necessary, since the sun had burned the fog away while she’d been in the house. After checking the area, she headed toward the trees, feeling like her luck had turned.

  ~~~~

  Success had bolstered Stevie’s spirits, but had also lulled her just a bit, and she wasn’t as alert as she should have been. Her thoughts were on the inner tubes and the unicorn, and how good it would be to have the river behind them.

  She’d only gone about fifty yards when she heard a shout from northeast of her position, an unfamiliar male voice, yelling for her to stop.

  She never hesitated. She ran as hard as she could to the west, staying in the trees, but not heading back toward her friends. The sounds of pursuit came to her on the breeze, and she found the strength to put on more speed than she’d ever thought possible. Darting around roots, bushes, and tree trunks, shifting directions occasionally, she kept running.

  A crashing sound and an oomph! sounded behind her, but she didn’t slow down to look. It seemed probable that the man had fallen, and she didn’t want to waste the advantage. She reached a section of the woods they’d passed through when they moved to the cabin. Glad her dad and uncle had taught her to keep her eyes on her surroundings, she looked to her left and recognized a clearing they’d seen, and remembered that they’d turned north at a dead pine tree she could see just ahead.