The Long Search For Home

by Ray Wench

  Mark turned toward the garage to wake Caleb and Zac, and then froze. A car engine raced somewhere to the south. The rumble grew louder.

  Memories of the battle they had gone through a month ago resurfaced. He grabbed for the gun at the small of his back, only to find he was not carrying it. With no new threats on the horizon, Mark had got out of the habit of having a weapon near.

  Mark raced for the house just as a white SUV turned sharply up the driveway and hurtled toward him. He reached the porch and leaped three steps up. By the time his hand touched the doorknob, a man was leaning out of the driver’s window.

  “Mark! Mark, wait!”

  Mark stopped and turned. Juan Perez, one of his neighbors, who lived a half mile south, leaped from the SUV and rushed toward him.

  “Mark, we got trouble coming. There’s a whole shitload of soldiers heading this way. And sweet Jesus, they got a tank. A really big tank.”

  “Slow down, Juan. What’s going on?”

  “I’m trying to tell you there’s an army coming this way, man. Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

  That was a good question.

  “I remember those stories you told us about fighting that army of hoarders. Is this them coming back for revenge? Or is this the U.S. Army here to save us?”

  “How long before they get here?”

  “I’m not sure. I saw them running down Airport Highway in this long—”

  “Hold it – wait a minute. They were on Airport?”

  “Yeah, heading west.” Perez lifted his arm and pointed.

  “I thought you said they were coming here.”

  Perez stopped. “Well, I thought they were. Hey, if they’re in the area they could stumble on us at any minute. We have to know what to do. Do we fight, or do we greet them like saviors?”

  “Until we know for sure what they’re doing, I think we try to avoid them. You don’t want to greet them in case they’re bad, and you don’t want to fight them in case they’re good. The best thing to do if you see them coming is to run or hide. We need to get everyone together and go over plans.”

  “Yes, that’s a good idea.” Perez scrambled back into the SUV.

  “Wait,” Mark said, moving to the passenger door.

  Perez lowered the window.

  “If any of the community is missing or in trouble, you come back for me immediately. Understand?”

  Perez nodded and backed out the driveway.

  God, don’t let it start again. Pure ice raced down his spine.

  Twenty-One

  When Mark turned around, Lynn was on the steps, her brow furrowed.

  “What?”

  Mark didn’t want to cause stress, but Lynn would see through any evasive answer. “I don’t know for sure.”

  “What do you know?”

  “Juan saw a troop convoy to the south, heading west. It may be nothing, but I asked him to check on everyone. I need, uh, we should send runners to our neighbors and to Jarrod and Maggie.”

  Lynn sat down as if punched in the stomach.

  Mark rushed to her. “Lynn, are you all right?”

  When she lifted her head, tears had formed. “I can’t do this again, Mark. I’m not like you. I can’t deal with the pain and the death.”

  Mark placed a hand behind her head and stroked her hair. “Lynn, we don’t know if there’s anything to be worried about yet. Let’s not stress until we know what we’re dealing with.”

  She leaned her head forward, pressing it against his hip, wrapping her arms around his legs. They had not touched since the ordeal had ended a month ago. He understood she would need time. He would be there for her whenever she was ready. Now she held him tight.

  “We’ll be all right, Lynn. And for the record, you’re the bravest woman I have ever known.”

  Lynn lifted her tear-streaked face toward Mark and smiled. “I don’t feel very brave.”

  “We all have a weak moment now and then. That’s why we have each other, to help us through those moments. The people we’ve drawn around us, that we call family, all look up to you. They need you. It’s not a fair burden to place on your shoulders, but you have to be strong for all of us.”

  She lowered her head and squeezed Mark’s legs tighter. His heart tightened. This wonderful woman could never replace his dead wife, but he did love her. He would die protecting her.

  “I’m sorry, Mark.”

  “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

  “Yes, I do. For this, and for not being what you want me to be.”

  Mark squatted to be face-to-face with her. He brushed a loose strand of hair from her face. “You’re everything I could ever want.”

  “I’m sorry I can’t be what you want, but it doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings for you.”

  “I know. I’m not worried. I’ll be here for you when you’re ready.”

  Lynn stood and Mark followed. Very slowly Lynn leaned forward, gave Mark a quick hug, and then stepped back. Their eyes held for a moment, unspoken affection passing between them.

  “We better wake everyone,” he said.

  She nodded.

  “I’ll need to speak to all of them.”

  Lynn said, “I’ll get the house, you get the rest.” She turned and went inside.

  Twenty-five minutes later, the entire group gathered around the picnic tables. Lynn stood a few steps to Mark’s side.

  “I’m not sure there’s a problem, but I would rather be prepared than be taken by surprise.” Mark panned from end to end.

  Most of them stood with blank faces. No one wanted to go to battle again.

  “So with that in mind, everyone go back to carrying a weapon. No one goes anywhere off the property alone and without clearing it with me. Keep your eyes open and report anything unusual, which obviously includes any unknown vehicles. Any questions?”

  “Are they the same people we fought before?” Alyssa asked.

  “No. Like I said, it appears to be a military group. Now whether they’re here to help people or to press people to join them is unknown. We’re sending teams out to warn the other families. I’ll do a scouting expedition. Hopefully that will tell us more.”

  Caleb slipped an arm around Alyssa. Darren lowered his head. Ruth looked toward the sky, her lips moving in silent prayer.

  Mark looked around the semi-circle of concerned faces. “Whatever happens, remember, we’re a family. We help each other no matter what.

  “I’m going to need two teams to warn the others. Caleb, you and Ruth go see the Grants and the Nelsons and the other families in that direction. Mallory, you take Zac and go see Jarrod and the Szymanskis and the others close to them. Contact every family. Drive with caution. If you see something, you come back here immediately. Do not try to take anyone on. You understand?”

  They nodded.

  “Darren and Alyssa, go about your normal chores, but stay close to the house. Okay, everyone, let’s get moving.”

  The group broke up.

  “Lynn, would you go talk to Lincoln?”

  “Sure. It’ll give me a chance to check on Jenny, too.” She started away, stopped, and turned. “Will you be here when I get back?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Well, good luck, and be careful.”

  “I will.”

  Without another word, Lynn crossed the street and climbed the porch of Lincoln’s house. Mark watched until she disappeared through the door. He went to the garage and lifted the overhead door. Inside, he went to one of the work benches and reached underneath. He withdrew a rifle and placed it on the seat of the pickup truck. On the seat was a nine millimeter with two extra full magazines, a survival knife, and binoculars. They had been there since the last time he had driven the truck, several weeks ago.

  Mark checked the rifle and popped the box magazine out. He loaded and replaced it. Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, he backed out of the garage. He didn’t want Lynn to see how armed he was; despite his words to the family, his gut w
as doing flips. He struggled to drive slowly down the driveway. Stopping at the street, he gave one last look at the house Lynn had gone into, and then drove south.

  Twenty-Two

  Mark drove south two miles and turned west on a parallel path one intersection north of Airport Highway Road. Airport in the old world had been a busy four-lane road connecting the city to the smaller towns and rural communities to the west. And as the name suggested, the airport was located along its path. Businesses, a few small shopping centers, and homes lined the route. As far as Mark knew, they were all vacant.

  The road Mark traveled ran through mostly rural areas. The street ended several times, and Mark had to use alternate routes to continue west. The slow pace was fine, because Mark wanted to avoid the main road. If Airport was being used by a convoy, it was likely to be watched. Besides, if he ran into traffic, there would be nowhere to hide. At all costs, Mark wanted to avoid contact until he was sure this group of soldiers was no threat to the peaceful community they had developed.

  Mark drove about five miles before turning south toward the main road. He pulled off at an old factory and parked in the lot with several abandoned vehicles. Train tracks ran east and west on a raised mound, blocking him further from anyone traveling Airport.

  Mark took his weapons and binoculars and walked toward the street. He climbed onto the mound and lay down next to the tracks. Lifting the binoculars, he took his time scanning what he could see of the highway a quarter mile in front of him. When nothing moved, he turned and searched behind him before moving forward.

  He stayed off the road, advancing to the corner. There he hid behind an old ice-cream store. For ten minutes, Mark aimed the binoculars in both directions. Nothing moved. Mark repeated the routine at the next three cross streets. Still, nothing moved, animal or human. He used the glasses once more to study the buildings on the southern side of the road. He stopped at a newer building with a broken front window. He swore. It was a gun store and from the looks, a large one. Someone was now well armed. Enough weapons to outfit an army?

  Mark crawled away from the road and went back to the truck. He sat there for a while, trying to decide the smartest course of action. Should he press on or go back and see if he’d missed anything behind? To the west, across the overpass, was the airport. Attached to the airport was an Ohio Air National Guard base. It was large, fenced, and open land – a perfect spot to house an army.

  Mark would have to cross the road and check out the airport. If there were nothing there, he would go home. But his gut was talking to him again, and saying his search was over.

  Twenty-Three

  Mark retreated two cross streets before risking driving across Airport Highway. He raced to the end of the seemingly endless block and turned the corner. There he sat, glasses to eyes, looking for pursuit. Satisfied he remained unobserved, Mark drove on toward the airport.

  A mile short of the National Guard base, Mark parked and proceeded on foot. This was a more residential area and offered more cover than the north side had. Moving from yard to yard, Mark drew closer to his destination.

  The sound of a truck’s engine froze him. He dropped to the ground and crawled from the open center of a backyard to the cover of the house in front of him. There he wedged himself between the chimney box and the deck. Someone would have to be in the backyard to see him. But if they did, he’d be an easy target with nowhere to run or hide.

  The truck grew closer before beginning to fade. Two minutes later, Mark moved to the corner of the house and peered around it. In front of him, across the street, was an eight-foot fence. Beyond the fence was an airfield. Lowering to the ground, Mark crawled between the two houses and stopped behind a bush. He raised the binoculars. His stomach heaved.

  Beyond the gate was an operational army-air force base. Dozens of men and women walked around in uniform. Questions staggered Mark like a blow to the head. He rolled on his back and sucked in air in huge gulps. How could this be? Paranoid thoughts of some wild conspiracy theory swept through his mind.

  Slowly he calmed his breathing and building panic. Finding the cold persona of the killer he had been such a short time ago, Mark rolled and took up the glasses again. This time he scanned the grounds with a dispassionate eye of a general taking in details before forming a battle plan.

  A driveway led to a gate. A section of black steel fencing stood ten feet in front of the standard fence, protecting it from being driven through. Along the drive, past the gate, sat yellow cement barriers. Beyond those, a guard house with two armed men, prevented unwanted entry.

  A line of trucks was arrayed on the cement pads in front of two fighter jets. People appeared to be working around the planes. There was a constant unhurried movement about the base, giving it the appearance, at least, of being operational. Unanswered was the question of whether the inhabitants were friends or foes.

  The entry gate slid back on an automatic track. The base had power. Mark shifted his gaze to the right and discovered why. A massive solar panel field took up a large portion of land to the right of the gate. Mark wasn’t sure how much electricity the field would generate, but the panels were larger than the ones now resting on his roof, and there were at least twenty times the amount.

  A canvas-covered truck drove through the gate and turned down the road away from Mark. The gate closed and the two guards took up watchful positions just beyond the yellow barriers.

  The sign out front read Home of the 180th Fighter Wing, and below were the initials O.A.N.G.: Ohio Air National Guard. Underneath, Homeland Security Forces.

  The base was in the far southeastern corner of the commercial and passenger airport. The terminal was a long way across the runways. There was no sign of life at that end.

  Mark raised the glasses to study the tower rising above the terminal. The runways were clear of any planes, but Mark was sure there were people inside the tower. It would be easy for someone with high power binoculars to see anyone approaching by road. Had they seen my approach?

  Maybe that’s why the truck had been dispatched. He sighed. Or perhaps he was being paranoid again.

  Mark backed away from his position and crawled along the other side of the house to get a different angle at the field. Again he focused on the tower. Was it his imagination, or was someone up there turned in his direction? He lowered his glasses. Movement closer drew his attention. A man, an officer by his look, had come out of the first building fifty yards behind the gate. He had a two-way radio to his ear. Damn, how could they’ve seen me?

  Mark did a mental head slap. Two-way radios – why didn’t he think of that? He’d been in the Marines, for Christ’s sake. He should’ve thought of using them. It would’ve made things so simple, both in their previous conflict and now to reach the other families.

  The officer turned his head abruptly toward the gate. He said something into the radio and then to someone inside the building. Then, to Mark’s great dismay, the man began jogging toward the gate. Now was a good time to leave.

  Other armed men came out of the building and followed. Mark had seen enough. When he cleared the house, he stood and ran, hurdling fences like a track star. The houses on this street were a distance apart, usually with woods and brush between them. He veered to be farther from the street and deeper into the woods that ran behind the houses.

  Several minutes later, a vehicle he could not see from his position passed along the side road. They were out looking for him. They would be able to cut him off at the next block. Mark forced a calm over his mind contrary to the pounding heart that threatened to explode from his chest. He slowed his breathing. To panic now would be to make mistakes that could cost him his life.

  Wiping the sweat from his brow, he scanned his surroundings. The panic took hold again. A tightness spread across his chest. He had to move and now.

  He was about to be trapped.

  Twenty-Four

  With a burst of adrenaline-enhanced speed, Mark turned left, running away from the
streets and farther into thicker woods. He would have to abandon his truck and make it home on foot. He gave no thought to the distance. His lone thought was to make it safely. He had no way of knowing how many men had been sent to track him down, but he did know they would fan out in the woods to cover a greater amount of area. Standard procedure would be to stay within eyesight of each other. In these woods five or six men could cover a lot of ground.

  Noise to his left caused Mark to duck and hide behind a small tree. He did a quick peek. One man was approaching. The soldier didn’t have the same fear of being heard since he had back up with him. But was this man on the end of the line, or were there others on both sides of him?

  Mark dared not move. The searcher could hardly miss him. But would the man shoot or move to secure him as a prisoner? Mark couldn’t afford to be wrong on that guess. He would have to chance a move.

  In a hurry, he searched the ground for something to throw. Even a brief distraction might help him at this point. He found a small twig and peeked again. The soldier was much closer now. He held his rifle ready for a quick shot. Mark still didn’t see anyone else. Perhaps he had been wrong about the search and this man foolishly was alone.

  Mark made ready to pitch the twig to the left and bolt. He marked a patch of thick brush fifteen yards away. If he could reach it undetected, it might conceal him well enough to avoid discovery.

  The twig left his hand and hit leaves with only a slight noise. Mark prayed it was enough. He peeked fast. The man had his weapon pointed in the direction of the twig, but was standing still. His head turned side to side in a slow arc. He was too smart to fall for Mark’s ploy.

  As Mark waited to make a move, the guard looked left and pointed to his eyes and then out to the left, signaling another searcher. Mark’s hope sank. These were well-trained men. Survival might depend on fighting his way out.

  The partner must have signaled back, because the guard moved forward again, his course only altered slightly. In another ten to twelve steps, Mark’s position would be revealed. Thoughts sped through his mind, but none had brakes enough to come to a halt.