A Trip to Normal

by Ray Wench

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Buy us some time, if necessary. Tell Bobby to get in the back seat and set up his rifle out the window in case I need cover to get to you.” He let go of the keys and Becca stuffed them into her jeans pocket.

  Before she could turn. Mark grabbed her arm and held tight. “You listen to this and do what I say. If I go down, you are not to come get me. You get out of here. This is important. If I get shot, you will not be able to do anything to save me. You'll only get yourself captured or killed and after everything you've seen in the past few months, you know capture could be worse than death. Do not argue. You do the smart thing. Use your head, not your heart.”

  He released her and pushed her away to prevent any argument, relieved when none came.

  The channel loomed in front of them. Less than half a mile away the six faster boats were in a position to cut him off from any other option, but to enter the channel. Mark barely slowed as he angled toward the mouth; a dangerous move since he was unfamiliar with the markers and obstacles that lay hidden beneath the surface.

  Forced to slow, Mark made the turn into the interior channel. From there, it was a straight path to the back of the marina. They passed the first row of docks and the large sailboat on the right. He thought he saw movement on board the large ship. Their wake had all the vessels rising and falling in rhythm.

  “Daddy, the first boat just entered the outer channel.”

  “We're gonna have to move fast. Gather what you're taking and get ready. Bobby, grab that stanchion on the end of the dock. Pull the boat in tight, but don't bother tying it off.” He risked a glance over his shoulder. The first boat turned into the inner channel. Damn! Those boats are fast.

  He guided the boat in close, slowing so Bobby wouldn't be ripped from the deck when he grabbed the pylon. “Okay, get ready.” He cut the throttle, leaving the engine to idle. Bobby reached for, but missed, the near pylon. Mark turned the wheel hard to get closer to the back one. Bobby snared that one and wrapped his lean but powerful arms around it like a tree-hugger.

  “Go,” Mark shouted to Becca. She leaped nimbly ashore and raced down the dock, her footsteps thundering on the metal flooring. “Go, Bobby, go!”

  “What about you?”

  Mark yelled. “Get your ass on that dock. Now!”

  Bobby hesitated, but climbed on the gunwale and jumped. His foot slipped and he banged down on his knees. He cursed, regained his feet and sprinted after his sister. Mark throttled up and reversed the boat.

  Away from the dock, he turned and aimed straight at the three boats now in the channel. He pushed the throttle to its max, ran for the far side and, rifle in hand, jumped overboard. He landed feet first and struck bottom almost immediately. The water wasn’t very deep and the waves lapped at his chest, his head and shoulders clear. His right ankle twisted, catching the sides of the rocks below. He moved with as much speed as he could through the water toward the rocky shoreline at the channel’s end. From there it would be a straight run up the slope to the SUV.

  The sound of shouts and a loud crash reached him as he scrambled from the water. More shouting, then several shots chipped at the stones around him. Halfway up, Bobby returned fire, his aim much better from a stationary position. Mark was surprised at the closeness of the rounds from the boats.

  At the top, Mark ran along the shore until he reached the SUV. Becca had the door open and he jumped into the front passenger seat. As soon as his butt touched the seat, she floored the accelerator. The SUV catapulted forward. The wheels spun, caught and bounced over the uneven ground. A bullet smacked into the rear quarter panel.

  Mark turned to see what damage, if any, he'd caused with the boat. He caught one vessel broadside as it turned to evade. Their boat was now embedded amid-ship, splitting the other vessel in half. One body lay over the side while two or three other men were in the water making for shore.

  All six chasing boats were in the channel now. One had pulled into an open berth and off-loading its crew. Unless something bad happened, they should be able to outrun them. His eyes swept back to the boats and he caught sight of two frightened black faces, a man and a woman, in the window of the sailboat. For an instant, the man's eyes locked on Mark's. They seemed to be sending an urgent appeal, “Help us!” Then they were gone, as if he'd imagined them.

  The landing party raced for the higher ground. They raised weapons and fired, but by then Becca had made the first turn in the road and the shots flew wide. A collective sigh of relief filled the SUV. They were clear and safe.

  Yet even as he sighed, another image opened like a picture-in-picture TV. The face of the frightened man. Mark wondered how safe they would be if the invaders searched the boats.

  Becca made another turn and the main road came into view. They had made it. They'd lost some equipment, their fishing gear and the fish, but they were safe. He settled into his seat a final thought put a period on the episode. Lynn had been right. Again.

  Seven

  “Here girls,” Lynn said, “take the dishes out to the table.” She handed over two stacks of plates. The girls went, leaving Caryn and Lynn in the kitchen.

  Without raising her head from her task of peeling potatoes, Caryn said, “You know, this past month has been good for me. I don't think I could've survived much longer out in the wilds.”

  Lynn picked up a bunch of carrots and began chopping them. “You don't give yourself enough credit, Caryn. You're much stronger than you think. I've seen it.”

  Caryn regrouped her thoughts and tried to approach the topic from a different angle. Lynn had been distracted all morning. The reason was obvious. Her departure had caused a stir amongst the farmhouse community. Many breathed easier when she returned in the morning. “Thank you, but being here, with all of you, has been my salvation. You've been very kind to me, taking me in and making me feel welcome.”

  “I'm glad we could be here for you. You certainly fit in well. I don't know what I'd do without you.”

  “I've come to think of you as a friend. Someone I can go to when I have a problem.” She paused. “And, I hope you feel the same.”

  Lynn stopped chopping. Caryn put down the peeler, wiped her hands on a towel, and turned to face Lynn. “I just want you to know that I'm here for you, as you were for me. If you want to talk, you can count on me.”

  Lynn glanced at Caryn but did not meet her eyes. A flush crept into her cheeks. “I appreciate that, Caryn, I really do.” Her tone held a sharp edge of frustration. She must have realized it, because her next words were softer. “I'm not sure there's anything to talk about at this point. At least nothing I'm ready to discuss.”

  Caryn turned back to her chore. A hand touched her arm. She turned. Now Lynn's eyes met and held hers, an apology written there. “But, if and when I am, you'd be the only one I'd feel comfortable talking to.” She offered a sad smile.

  Caryn returned it and they went back to their tasks in silence. Two minutes later, Lynn's son, Caleb, came through the door in a hurry, carrying his rifle. “Mom, there's some people walking down the road.”

  She dropped the knife and wiped her hands. “How many?” Concerned, but all business.

  “Five. Three women and two kids.”

  Lynn turned to Caryn. “I'm sending our girls inside. You know what to do?”

  Caryn nodded and Lynn left with Caleb close behind. “How far away?”

  “There were a good block and a half when I saw them.”

  “Were you on watch or did someone report it to you?” That would make a difference as to how close the walkers were now.

  “I was on watch.”

  The community required everyone to take a turn each day on watch. With all the confrontations they'd had since moving there, the watch was the most important task of each day. A regular weekly schedule was posted. Two people worked together on each four-hour shift; one watching the north-south road, the other the east-west.

  “Which direction?” She reached
a hand back.

  “East,” Caleb said, handing her his binoculars.

  They passed through the long row of pine trees that lined the east-west road, creating a natural barrier between the street and the house. Stopping at the end of the branches, Lynn lifted the glasses and focused the lens. The group of women and children had stopped in the intersection. One woman was looking down the northern road and talking. Perhaps deciding which direction to go. She made a shrugging gesture with her shoulders. Maybe she was the leader.

  Another woman looked west toward the house. Lynn looked back over her shoulder but couldn't see past the trees. She imagined rising smoke from their cooking fires could be seen from a distance over the long corn field. Had that been the reason they'd stopped?

  “Did you already sound the alarm?”

  “Yes.”

  Lynn just nodded. She studied the women. At first glance, they looked harmless enough. Each woman carried a backpack and were all armed with either a rifle or handgun. The two kids looked about ten years old. One boy, one girl, though with their long wild hair, it was difficult to be sure. Both of them wore small backpacks. One was a teddy bear, the other had pictures of some superhero.

  The third woman was short and black and looked pregnant. The woman talking and still looking north looked Latina. She was medium height, but stocky. Her posture gave off a strong confident look. The tallest woman, by at least a head, shifted her rifle from right hand to left and spoke to the Latina woman. The stocky woman turned her head sharply to look in Lynn's direction. Lynn started and backed a step deeper into the branches. Did they see me? She hadn't thought she was visible.

  She glanced right and discovered what had drawn their attention. One of the daily patrol cars was returning. It turned left at the corner and would come up the driveway any second. “Caleb, quick, go fill in whoever that is and hurry back.” Her son left without question.

  The Latina woman faced north again and spoke as if she were speaking to someone unseen. She nodded and turned to huddle with the group. After a brief discussion, she walked west. The other two women flanked the sides in a v-formation with the kids in the middle. They looked alert and prepared for battle.

  A rustling of branches behind her announced Caleb's return, but the voice startled her. “What've we got?”

  She turned to see Lincoln standing there. His presence gave her some reassurance. “Three women and two kids, but ... I don't know, I've got a gut feeling there may be others on the northbound road. Maybe coming through the corn.”

  Lincoln sucked in one cheek and gnawed on it while he gave that some thought. Caleb came in behind them. “The girls are in the house with Darren,” he said. “The others are in the garage or the barn.”

  Lynn tried to decide what to do. She wished Mark was here. He would know how best to position everyone. But he wasn't and that made her mad. It was up to her now. “Caleb, go get one of the other boys and keep watch on the cornfield. Stay out of sight.”

  He hesitated and said, “Okay,” and ran off.

  Lincoln placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “That was a good call. Don't worry, I've got your back.”

  The women approached in a slow but steady pace. As if they'd done it many times before, the lead woman watched forward, the taller woman watched right and behind and the black woman scanned left and forward.

  “Should I step out when they get close or just let them pass?”

  “You should go wait for them at the tables. I'll stay here. If they come through the trees, I'll let them pass, then follow.”

  Lynn mulled that over, thinking it a sound idea and glad Lincoln had made the call, she handed him the glasses and left him there. She reached the tables and tried to decide how best to wait. She was way too nervous to appear nonchalant. She went to sit, but couldn't make herself settle. Placing one foot on the bench, she felt too posed and paced instead, wringing her hands in front of her. Damn you, Mark! You should be here to handle this, not off fishing miles away.

  The rear door opened and she jumped at the sound. Caryn walked calmly down the stairs with two coffee cups. She smiled and handed one to Lynn. Lynn took it with grateful but shaking hands. Caryn touched her arm. “Relax. We're all here to support you.” She reached behind and pulled out a handgun. “Thought you might want this.”

  Lynn wanted to hug the woman. She took the gun and tried to slip it in her pants at the small of her back, but couldn't quite manage it. How the hell did the men do it?

  “Lynn.”

  She looked at Caryn who was sitting down.

  “Come. Sit, before you fall over.”

  Embarrassed, Lynn set the cup down and scooted her legs under the picnic table. She set the gun on the bench seat next to her and lifted the cup to her lips. Her hands shook so much the liquid threatened to splash over the rim. Again, Caryn laid a comforting hand on her arm. Lynn gave her a smile as Caryn nodded her head toward the trees. Lynn followed her gaze.

  The Latina woman stood there, sweeping a studious gaze across the grounds. She stopped on Lynn and Caryn.

  The three women stared at one another for a long moment before Lynn raised a hand and motioned the visitor forward. The leader of the new group took another look around, searching for a trap, said something to someone unseen, and advanced toward the tables.

  With the coffee cup in front of her mouth blocking her words, Lynn said, “Is your hand on your gun?”

  “Yep.”

  “If you see the barrel of her rifle swing toward us, don't hesitate, fire. Can you do that?”

  “If I have to.”

  Lynn hoped that was true.

  The woman stopped twenty feet from the table and eyed the two women with suspicion. She made a furtive glance toward the cornfield and Lynn was now sure someone was coming that way. Perhaps waiting for a signal from this woman.

  “Welcome,” Lynn said. “Would you like some coffee?”

  The woman seemed to give the offer consideration, before saying, “Yeah, that'd be nice.”

  “Come, join us. You have nothing to fear here, as long as you haven't come to cause trouble.”

  The woman hesitated, then moved to the table. Sitting was awkward with the large pack on her back. Lynn thought about telling her it was all right to take it off but refrained. If, and when, the woman felt comfortable enough to take it off, she would.

  Caryn stood, left the gun on the bench, and went inside. “I'm Lynn,” she said, extending a hand toward her guest.

  In slow motion, the woman took her hand and gave it a shake. “Juanita.”

  “Nice to meet you, Juanita. Welcome to our community. You are welcome to stay as long as you'd like. The only requirement we have is that you do your fair share.”

  The woman nodded absently. Caryn came back carrying a cup of coffee, the steam rising in the cool morning air. She set it down in front of Juanita with a bowl of sugar, sweetener and creamer packets and a spoon.

  “This is Caryn. Caryn, this is Juanita.”

  Caryn sat and said, “Hi,” but did not offer a hand.

  “I know you don't know us or anything about us, but it's all right to tell the others in your party to sit with us as well. We were just in the process of making breakfast, if you'd like to join us. It's nothing fancy, but it'll fill your bellies.”

  Juanita nodded in a slow, steady bob as she took in Lynn's words. “You saw us coming?”

  “Yes.”

  Silence.

  Juanita said, “How many others are here?”

  Lynn paused and studied the woman. “A few. Tell me, Juanita, have you come here to cause trouble?”

  Something flashed through her eyes. Lynn stiffened. She didn't like what she saw. Before anything else was said or done, Lynn knew, without a doubt, this woman had brought trouble.

  Eight

  Juanita tore open two sugar packs and dumped them into the cup. She used her finger to stir then looked up to meet Lynn's gaze. “We're not here to cause trouble, but we will protec
t ourselves if forced to.”

  “That's good. As I said, you don't have anything to fear here. We're a peaceful community. Your traveling companions will be safe here if you want them to join us.”

  Juanita took a drink and closed her eyes, savoring the flavor and the aroma. “Umm! It's been a long time since I've had coffee. I'd forgotten how much I used to enjoy a morning cup.”

  “How long have you been traveling?” Caryn asked, her voice friendly and light.

  Juanita eyed her over the cup. “Seems like forever.”

  Lynn noted the answer was no real answer.

  “I understand. We traveled a while too, before settling here. Where are you from originally?”

  “East,” she said, and took another quick sip, as if afraid her lack of answers would prevent her from finishing the beverage.

  “Understandably, you're very guarded,” Lynn said. “That's all right. I can appreciate you wanting to protect yourself and your friends, but we really mean you no harm. Your presence has interrupted our meal time. We would like to continue our preparations and you are welcome to join us, but please, bring everyone to the table. If we're going to be uneasy with each other, it's better to be face-to-face rather than have to keep people on guard watching from a distance.”

  Juanita drank, watching Lynn with cold, calculating eyes. Lynn wished she would finish her drink and go. She tried to put herself in the woman's shoes. If she was the stranger wouldn't she be just as protective? Yes, but there was something more going on here. Something that made Lynn's skin crawl with unease. She glanced past Juanita toward the corn fields. She couldn't help but think the danger was coming from that direction.

  “I will talk to the others,” Juanita said, at last. “We'll decide whether to join you or not, or just be on our way.”

  “All right. Whatever you decide, know you can stay or go … in peace.”

  Juanita paused with the cup on her lips, then tipped up the cup and drained the contents. She set down the cup hard on the wooden table and stood abruptly. The sharp sound and suddenness of the movement startled Lynn. She jumped in her seat. Juanita's eyes sparkled as if taking joy from the reaction. She stood, nodded once and backed away from the table. Twenty feet away, she spun and trotted through the pine trees.