“I have to know,” he croaked out.
“I know, I understand, but let me look, please?” she asked.
He nodded. “Hurry.”
She turned around and started moving, coming to an abrupt halt at the crosses. He watched her hand rise up to cover her mouth, and then she turned, her face gone pale.
“Oh God,” he groaned, his feet stuck in place. His legs felt like lead.
“It’s not her,” she said, shaking her head. “But she was with them.”
He felt air rush out of his lungs as relief washed over him. “Thank God.”
He moved towards Amanda then, his legs shaking as feeling moved back into them. He cursed under his breath as he looked at the three crosses with names carved shallowly into the wood. The dead men had been buried in shallow graves, and skin was showing through the dirt that scavengers had already begun plying at. The middle cross bore the name ‘Jim Loveridge.’
“Do you recognize the other names?” she whispered, as if the sound of their voices would disturb the dead men.
No, but I’d have no reason to.”
“We should go,” she whispered.
He turned, not saying a word, and walked back to where the horses were waiting on the road. There were no less than a million thoughts running through his mind as he mounted Raven and tried to figure out what the deaths meant.
“We need to hurry,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion.
“I understand. We’re close, Austin, really close,” she assured him as she kicked Charlie into a walk beside him.
“What if—” He couldn’t finish the sentence.
“Don’t say it. Someone put those crosses up. We have to believe she was one of the survivors,” Amanda said, infusing what sounded like fake confidence into her voice.
Austin glanced at her, knowing her well enough by now to know that she was only saying the words. She didn’t actually believe what she was saying.
“This isn’t going to get any better,” he blurted out.
“What isn’t?”
“The world we’re living in. There’s a serious divide happening here. What kind of person could kill another man like that, simply because he believes in God? I’m not a religious person, never have been, but I know plenty of people who are. They will never give up what they believe, no matter what it might cost them. Jim Loveridge died for what he believed. Even if the power comes on tomorrow, that hate and distrust is still going to be there. How can one side forgive the other?” he asked.
Amanda shook her head, but reached out to brush her hand against Austin’s arm in support before she answered. “I don’t know, but I’m sure the violence and fear are caused by the uncertainty of our future. Once power is restored and we have law enforcement again, this won’t happen,” she insisted.
He scoffed. “You ever been to the Middle East? Ever watched what’s been happening over there for decades? It’s one of the oldest fights in the history of mankind. Depending on what you believe, it goes back for thousands of years. Religion’s what’s caused many a war.”
She was silent for a minute. That was fine. He knew he was right. He’d seen it all firsthand. It was ugly, and it didn’t simply go away. The hate bred and manifested in new generations. And whatever was happening in the country was a lot more than a lack of electricity. The hate was rampant.
“Let’s focus on getting Savannah, and we’ll worry about saving the world later,” she said, trying to lighten the mood.
They both gave their horses a little kick, urging them to pick up the pace. For all he knew, Savannah was only a few miles ahead. He had to get to her.
28
Amanda was doing her best to hide her fear. She didn’t want Austin to know just how terrified she was. Finding the bodies yesterday had been bad—really bad. They’d decided to stick with the highway, avoiding the interstate, but there was no telling how the Loveridges were traveling; the best they could do was head toward his brother’s and hope to overtake them. Meanwhile, they’d come across people camping in fields with little to nothing to eat. A few of them had had shelters, but Amanda was convinced it wouldn’t be long before they became sick and died.
The towns they’d encountered were full of hate and animosity. She was convinced that, if there had been an aerial view, there would have been a clear, divided line between the two factions that were developing in the wake of the EMP. There were those who believed in a higher power and those who believed that the death and destruction were some kind of Biblical plague, which was kind of ironic considering that those who didn’t believe were essentially blaming a higher power. Threaded throughout both groups, though, there was one common belief.
“Did you see that sign painted on the side of the building?” Amanda asked as they walked alongside their horses, giving the creatures a break.
“I did. What do you think it means?” he asked.
“True Patriot could mean a lot of things. It seems like the further west we go, it’s a lot less about hating the religious people and a lot more about hating the government,” she said.
Austin nodded. He’d not been very talkative since finding the preacher’s body the day before. She knew he was worried sick about his daughter. She’d never met the girl, and she was worried for her safety.
“It could be old,” he muttered.
“Old?”
“We’re in the heart of America. People out here are big on patriotism. How many American flags have we seen waving?”
She scrunched up her nose, not buying the explanation. The paint had looked new. The young men and women hanging around the building hadn’t looked the part of the typical gung-ho patriots she had seen before the EMP. There’d been something a bit more sinister about them.
“I suppose. I think the horses are rested enough. We can probably ride until nightfall,” she said, hoping to buoy his spirits some.
“Fine,” he grumbled, pulling Raven to a stop and climbing on her back.
They set out at a fast walk, wanting to cover as much ground as possible.
Every time they came upon a group of people or passed through a town or city, they asked about Savannah. They’d stopped referring to the Loveridge group as missionaries and revivalists. It always sparked more questions than answers, and seemed to put people on edge. Now, they described the group based on what they’d heard early on, and Savannah in particular, and got what information they could.
They’d been traveling for what Amanda guessed was several hours when something looked out of place on the road up ahead. She slowed her horse, hissing at Austin to do the same.
“What? What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Look up there,” she whispered, gesturing up ahead.
“Amanda, there are cars and trucks all over the roads. We’ve seen hundreds,” he grumbled, not bothering to slow Raven or take out his gun.
She shook her head, staring at the government-issued Humvee. “That one is wrong.”
“What do you mean wrong?” he asked, frustration coming through in his voice now.
The hairs on her arms were standing up and her sixth sense had begun screaming at her. Something was off, no matter what Austin might think.
“Austin, trust me, something is off.”
His blue eyes looked sideways to meet hers. He nodded once, telling her he believed her. “Move slow,” he ordered in a low voice as they moved up the road towards the Humvee, the front of the vehicle slammed into the back end of a large van truck.
“Why?” Austin asked.
“Why what?” she snapped, her eyes scanning the area.
“Why do you think something is off?”
“The Humvee is crashed into that van, like it was trying to go around it and didn’t make it. Look at the other cars. They’re in lanes, and they have tons of dust and dirt stains on them. Those cars have been sitting here since it rained. Now, look at the Humvee—it’s a little dusty, but not like the others,” she explained.
She glanced over
at Austin, watching the realization come to his face. “Government plates,” he said, pointing to the back of the crashed rig.
She smiled. “The government is intact. They’re probably bringing aid! I bet it’s the National Guard,” she added, excitement racing through her as she nudged Charlie, urging him to go faster.
“Amanda, wait. We need to be careful,” Austin said, pulling Raven to a stop.
She did the same, dismounting and looping the reins over a side mirror on a big Chevy truck. Together, the two of them approached the Humvee, Amanda on the left and Austin on the right; both of them had their guns drawn, ready to shoot if a threat appeared.
“There’s a body,” Amanda called out.
“I’ve got one on the passenger side, too,” Austin replied.
“Back seat!” Amanda called out.
Austin approached the rear of the vehicle, his gun still out as he reached for the handle and pulled it open. A man dressed all in black slumped to the side, nearly hitting the pavement. Austin caught his shoulder, holding him up while he slid his gun to his back.
“He’s alive,” he called out.
Amanda raced around the vehicle, hooking her arms under the man’s unconscious body and gently pulling him out while Austin grabbed his legs. They laid him on the pavement while Amanda quickly took his vitals and then began assessing his injuries.
“He’s in bad shape,” she said, defeated.
“What’s this uniform they’re all wearing?” Austin asked, moving the man’s black jacket to the side.
“I don’t know. There’s no name or patch indicating what branch they’re with.”
Austin ran his eyes along the man’s clothing, shaking his head. “Nothing.”
“He’s not going to make it,” she whispered, her fingers moving back to take the pulse at his neck.
“What do you think happened?” Austin asked, noticing a lack of obvious injuries.
“Brain trauma is my guess,” she said, pointing to the blood trickling out of his ear.
Austin looked at the crashed vehicle. “They must have been going pretty fast to kill all three of them on impact. These rigs are meant to withstand a lot.”
“Let’s check the Humvee; maybe we’ll find out where they were going,” she said, getting to her feet.
The front seats were ignored. The blood and gore from the two occupants slamming into the windshield wasn’t something either of them was interested in touching. Blood-borne diseases were still a concern.
“There are boxes back here,” Austin called out with excitement.
Amanda hoped it would be a case of MREs and water, truth be told. She rushed to the back and pulled open one of the flaps on the first medium-sized cardboard box.
It was full of flyers. She pulled one out as Austin did the same. As she read the banner, her blood ran cold.
“True Patriot,” she breathed out.
“What the hell is this crap?” Austin growled, flipping through a sheaf of the flyers with a look of sheer disgust on his face.
He tossed the flyers to the ground and started digging deeper into the box.
“This is bad,” Amanda said, her brain reeling as she read the message of hate and violence detailed on a brochure she’d picked up from the side of the box. It was calling for action from those who considered themselves to be patriots. It asked people to join the crusade against those who had torn the country apart, promising a salvation of sorts for those who helped clean the earth.
“I don’t understand,” Austin muttered, pulling out another flyer and reading the smaller print again as if he’d read it wrong the first time.
“They’re telling people to kill people! This is where the religious crap is coming from! This is someone trying to destroy the country from the inside out!” she realized.
“We’ll never make it through this if the entire population of the United States is fighting each other,” Austin said, his lip curled in disgust.
Amanda continued reading the message, an icy shiver of dread snaking down her back, making her physically shudder. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”
“What?” Austin asked, looking up to meet her eyes.
“Is it too crazy to believe someone is spreading this filth because they want to be seen as the savior of sorts? By pitting people against one another and creating an enemy that has to be eliminated, the people distributing this are creating a loyal following.”
Austin looked thoughtful for a moment. The bushy beard growing in from a lack of shaving made him look even more scholarly, but it didn’t bring a smile to her face now like it sometimes did.
“It’s a tool Hitler used, and many dictators before him,” he said. “Again, look at the Middle East,” he murmured as if he were talking more to himself than her.
“Who? Who would do this? Do you think the people behind this flyer are also behind the EMP?” she asked.
She’d said it without thinking, but he was quick to agree, nodding so easily that it shocked her. “I do.”
“Why?” she demanded.
He pointed to the box. “How would anyone print these flyers post-EMP?”
Her mouth dropped open, then shut. “Oh.”
“Things are going to get a lot worse. I’m sure there are more guys just like this, traveling around and handing out flyers inciting violence. Look at this,” he said, reaching forward to grab another box, then pulling out a bottle of water from a case tucked inside.
Her eyes widened. At least she had been partially right. She pulled at the corner of another box in front of her, yanking the flaps back to find MREs and tiny bags of nuts, like the kind an airline would hand out. There was the True Patriot logo on every package and every bottle of water.
She started shaking her head. “This isn’t the usual military-type rations,” she muttered, ripping open another box and finding small personal packs of shampoo, wet wipes, toothbrushes and toothpaste. There were hundreds of the little packs.
“What do you think all this is?” he asked, surveying the back end of the rig filled with boxes.
She took a deep breath, wishing she could be wrong. “It looks like humanitarian aid packs.” She swallowed. If she was right, that meant that people in charge were using the guise of humanitarian aid and gifts to back up a message of hatred—bribing people to turn against men and women who might as well have been their neighbors.
“What if they’re handing these out with the flyers?” Austin asked, reading her fear. “They’re buttering people up, pretending to be helping while they’re recruiting,” he said, tossing one of the personal packs to the back.
“This is bad.”
“Which is why I need to get to my kid. We’re not far from my brother’s property. We’re probably a day’s ride away if we get moving now.”
“Austin, we need to load up as much of this as we can. This is too good to leave behind,” she said, already calculating the weight.
He put his hands on his hips, staring at her and shaking his head. “I already know what you’re going to say, and the answer is no.”
“Austin, we aren’t going to be any help if we’re dead. We need the food and water,” she insisted.
“We take enough for a few days,” he said flatly. “I don’t want to walk, and I know you’re going to say that our weight and the weight of the goods will be too much for the horses. It’ll take too long to walk, though, and honestly, my leg is already sore,” he told her.
She groaned, wishing she could find a way to argue—she didn’t want to leave any of this behind. What if it took longer than planned to get to his brother’s house? She felt pulled between taking too much and slowing them down, and not taking enough and moving fast, but possibly running out of food and water. She closed her eyes, knowing this was a compromise she had to make.
“Fine. We use the shoestrings from their boots, tie the water bottles together, and wear them around our necks, and we can hang a few more off the back of the saddles. The saddlebags will ho
ld a few MREs. I guess washing my hair isn’t a big deal, but I am taking one of those packs for myself,” she said firmly.
He smiled, his blue eyes dancing. “I think that’s reasonable. Those little bottles don’t weigh much. Take a couple. We could use the plastic bags for something, I’m sure—maybe trade the toiletries for food.”
“I think we should burn those flyers,” she added, feeling defiant.
He shrugged, lifted the box out of the back end of the Humvee, and walked a few feet away from the stalled vehicles on the road. He ripped a few of the paper flyers before pulling the lighter out of his pocket and igniting the edges. Amanda came up behind him, both of them staring at the box as the flames slowly grew, engulfing the papers and eventually the box, sending up thick black smoke.
“Let’s get loaded,” Austin said after a moment more passed. “I want to get out of here. I think we definitely need to stay off the roads. I don’t want to know what these guys are like when they’re alive and breathing. We’ll search the rig for anything else that might be usable and then we’re out of here,” he said, walking to the man lying dead on the road and going to work at removing the long laces from his boots.
Amanda took the first shoestring and tied it around the top of a water bottle. They worked in silence, looting some gum from one of the men and searching for weapons.
“Why don’t they have guns?” she asked, finding it strange.
“Judging by that leg holster on the front passenger, I’d say they did have guns. Someone got here before us and took them,” Austin replied, removing the holster and putting it on his own thigh.
She took a second to admire the holster—or, rather, the leg the holster was attached to. “I like it,” she said, grinning.
He looked up from where he’d been testing the fit of his gun in the newly-attained holster. “You like what?”
“The holster. You look very mercenary, commando-ish,” she said, for lack of a better word.
He gave her a strange look. “Thanks. I think.”
“I’m going to see if I can wear the one the other guy has on.”
Survive the Chaos (Small Town EMP Book 1) Page 21
