by Bobby Akart
Nobody responded until there were six armed guards ready to fire if a wrong move occurred. Cooper looked back toward the truck and shrugged. He noticed the refugees had backed far away from Red Rover, hoping not to get gunned down if there was a misstep.
After a tense moment, one of the guards unlocked the gate and manually slid it open so the truck could pass through.
“Get in and drive! Hurry!”
Cooper wasted no time in getting behind the wheel of the truck and engaged the clutch. Red Rover lurched forward until it was through the gate. Cooper was somewhat astonished that the guards didn’t immediately pull them out of the truck and force the trio to the ground like he imagined it would happen. Rather, the guards’ focus was on the remaining refugees, who began to crowd toward the gate.
Once the gate was closed and locked, the yells came from the outsiders, but none were willing to challenge the firepower of the border guards.
The officer addressed Cooper. “Come on out, hands in the air, and leave any weapons in the truck. I need the three of you to get in the cage while we search you and check your identification.”
Without saying a word, all three of the Armstrongs complied and patiently allowed the soldiers to pat them down although Palmer shot one of the men a dirty look who got a little too touchy-feely around her chest.
While they were being detained, Red Rover was searched, and all of their weapons and ammunition boxes were removed and set to the side. The officer examined their arsenal and seemed to nod his approval.
With an armed guard flanking him on both sides, he entered the holding pen and reviewed all of their identification. Comfortable with his findings, he handed them back to the Rodeo Kids.
“Where did you folks come from? The license plate is from Montana.”
Palmer and Riley, who both appeared to be apprehensive, looked to Cooper to answer.
“We were at a rodeo in Calgary, up in Canada. When the EMP hit, we got on our horses and started traveling south. We were in Montana when the nukes started flyin’.”
“How did you know the war started?” he asked.
“We saw ’em lift off out of the ground. There was no doubt what was happening.”
The officer nodded his head and spoke to one of the guards. The men lowered their rifles and retreated out of the holding pen.
“Listen up,” he began. “You don’t look like trouble, but I have my orders. You know Texas is its own country now, right?”
“Yes, sir,” replied Cooper.
“Burnett has issued a martial law declaration, which requires us to seize the weapons of any newcomers to the state, I mean country.”
“But we’re residents,” protested Riley, who was given an immediate glance from Cooper.
“I understand that, son, but I have my orders,” he replied. He then leaned in so he could speak in a hushed voice. “There’s been some trouble in West Texas. Where do you folks live?”
“North of Big Spring,” replied Cooper. “It’s about a hundred miles due east from here.”
The officer thought for a moment and then put his hands up to instruct them to wait there. He walked to where the guards stood and looked at the weapons spread out on the ground. He picked up the AR-15 and handed it to the guard, who immediately put it in the back of the truck along with a few boxes of ammunition.
He returned to the holding area. “You’ve been through too much to get hurt on the last leg of your trip home. I’ve left you the best defensive weapon you have plus some ammo. That should get you home. This is between us, got it?”
“Yes, sir,” said Riley and Cooper in unison.
Cooper extended his hand to shake the officer’s. “Thank you, sir, very much. Can we be on our way?”
“No reason not to,” he replied.
“Sir,” interrupted Riley, “do you happen to have any spare diesel we can have?”
The officer frowned and chuckled as he walked away. “Don’t push your luck, son.”
Riley decided not to press the issue, and he led the way toward Red Rover. Within a minute, they were headed east once again, through the land of a thousand wells.
Chapter 54
December 17
South of Nadine, New Mexico
Duncan and Sook’s progress had slowed considerably. After the loss of Sook’s mare, Duncan led them down toward the Pecos River until they eventually came across a one-lane bridge, which took them to the other side. With the path to the ranch clear of any other natural obstacles, Duncan immediately sought shelter to ride out the storm and recover from the trauma of the loss of her horse.
As was typical of early winter storms, within a day, the cold front blew past them and the sun was out, awakening the two travelers from a deep sleep in a toolshed they’d come across located in the middle of an oil field.
They were able to ride together for a while, with Duncan and Sook walking the horse every couple of hours to give it some relief. Duncan’s gelding seemed to be strong, showing no signs of fatigue. Then again, Sook’s mare didn’t either. He began to think the horse had had some type of heart or brain abnormality that caused it to die. In any event, he wasn’t taking chances when they were this close to Texas.
When they reached Country Road 18, Duncan noticed a highway marker, which indicated they were still in New Mexico. He became somewhat dejected, not knowing that he was only a few miles away. As nightfall approached, he focused on finding them a place to camp.
They rode along, talking about a variety of subjects related to life in America, when they crested a hill overlooking a vast open area filled with oil wells. He stopped the horse and wiped his eyes as he focused.
About a half mile before them was a pair of tall chain-link fences running parallel to one another from the north to the south. On the New Mexico side of the fence, dozens of people walked back and forth aimlessly, appearing to search for a way through the barricade.
“Wait here,” said Duncan as he pulled his rifle and walked closer for a better view. When he was barely a quarter mile away from the barrier, he studied the landscape through the Barrett’s scope.
“Texas has a border fence,” he mumbled to himself. He squinted, trying to get a better look up and down the border. That was when he saw a commotion about a mile to their north.
Despite the recent snowfall, he could make out a road that led due east into the fence. It was near a large sand pit with a number of backhoes parked next to it. He imagined they were used to fill in gaps underneath the fencing caused by the undulating terrain.
At the sandpit was a gate with armed soldiers on the Texas side patrolling the fence line. Several dozen refugees were standing around the gate. He adjusted his sights and focused on the gate itself. There were MPs stationed there, and they appeared to be examining the credentials of the people in line.
He smiled when he saw a family of three waved through the gate and into a holding pen. “They must be Texans,” he said to himself with a smile.
He continued to study the processes followed by the border guards. Within a few minutes, what appeared to be an officer with two armed guards approached the holding pen. He spoke to the family, who immediately stood and raised their arms. The officer patted the adults down and then the child. They opened their belongings for his guards to inspect. He appeared to be satisfied they were unarmed.
After some discussion, the parents provided the officer their driver’s licenses. He pointed toward the child, who was immediately drawn in by his mother. After some more discussion, he reached out to shake the man’s hand and instructed his guards to open the gate, granting them entry into Texas.
Excited, he jogged back to Sook as he realized their long journey was coming to an end. And then he slowed his pace as he recalled his own words. They must be Texans.
Sook, however, was not.
Chapter 55
December 19
Texas Border Checkpoint
East of Nadine, Texas
Duncan resisted the
urge to rush toward the border checkpoint that afternoon. From his observations, the crowd appeared to be agitated around the gate, which might place him and Sook in danger. He opted instead to break into a block building nearby, which housed hydraulic water pumps. The pumps were not operating, and the accommodations were dark and disagreeably damp, but he and Sook enjoyed curling up in their blankets to stay warm.
The circumstances of their finding one another were certainly unusual, but their survival of the trek from Peach Springs to within a mile of Texas made them soulmates. Duncan tried not to think too far ahead about their future together. They still faced a difficult journey to the ranch with a major obstacle facing them that morning.
The sun was just peeking over the horizon when the two of them rode casually through the sleeping bodies of the refugees who were being denied entry. It was barely light when he got the attention of one of the armed guards.
“Do you have ID?” he asked gruffly. Apparently, the sleepy-eyed guard wasn’t used to getting such an early start. Duncan stuffed his documentation through the gate, which included what he had been provided by the CIA officers in Seoul, the handwritten letter from Sheriff Banda in Peach Springs, and a similar letter from the commanding officer of the military convoy he had bailed out on the road the other day.
“I’m Master Chief Petty Officer Duncan Armstrong Jr., a former Navy SEAL. The paperwork I’ve provided you will show that I have national security interest clearance and ID confirmation provided by the Central Intelligence Agency. There are also letters of recommendations from two individuals with Arizona law enforcement and the United States Military.”
The soldier studied the paperwork and then focused on Sook. “Who’s she?”
“She is my liaison extracted from South Korea as part of a covert mission. She, too, has the same CIA clearance as I do.”
Duncan handed Sook’s paperwork through the fence. It bore the name of Min Jun Park, his beloved partner who’d died in North Korea, but most members of law enforcement or the military they encountered would not know that Park’s name was masculine.
“Wait here,” said the soldier as he turned. His partner at the gate moved in and lifted his rifle to low ready. He stared at Duncan and then back to Sook.
Moments later, an officer in fatigues approached the gate. Duncan recognized the sergeant stripes on his black jacket.
“Good morning, Sergeant,” greeted Duncan, who wanted the officer to know he recognized the meaning of his stripes.
“Sir, you don’t have any type of photo ID?” the officer asked.
“No, sir. In our line of business, we are discouraged from carrying identification of any kind. These documents were issued to us at Yongsan Garrison in Seoul before we shipped out.”
The sergeant studied Duncan and Sook. He seemed skeptical, but continued his questioning. “There’s also no indication that you’re a Texan. Where do you live?”
“My family’s ranch is due east of here, just south of a small town called Gail,” replied Duncan.
The officer leaned back to whisper to the soldier behind him.
“Where’s that in relation to Big Spring?”
“Our ranch is just north of Big Spring. It’s known as the Armstrong Ranch.”
The sergeant handed the paperwork to the soldier and then met Duncan at the fenced gate.
“Sir, this is Texas now, and none of the paperwork means a hill of beans as far as I’m concerned. But I’m gonna give you the benefit of the doubt here.”
“Thank you, Sergeant,” said Duncan, who was immediately relieved.
“I have one question for you, and you better get it right.”
Duncan was taken aback by his demand. He had no idea what the sergeant expected from him. He glared back and responded, “Okay, fine. What’s the question?”
“Do you have any brothers or sisters, and what are their names?”
Duncan looked puzzled and then a smile came across his face. “Cooper. Riley. Palmer. My parents call them the Rodeo Kids.”
The sergeant nodded and stepped back from the gate.
“Gentlemen, you know the drill. Cover the gate and let these folks into Texas.”
Chapter 56
December 20
Land of a Thousand Wells
West Texas
“Coop, do you reckon we outsmarted ourselves?” said Palmer with a chuckle as the setting sun behind them began to cast long shadows in the land of a thousand wells.
“Whadya mean?” replied Cooper with a question of his own.
“I mean, we’re surrounded by millions of gallons of oil, and not one drop of it is gonna help us get closer to home.”
“We all agreed—” began Cooper defensively before Palmer calmed him down.
“Coop, I’m not second-guessin’ or criticizin’. We’re so far away from civilization that we’ll never find diesel at this point.”
“Yeah, I know,” said Cooper. “It’s just those military guys kinda spooked me when the officer talked about trouble around here. I thought it would be best to avoid highways and towns.”
“Patricia can’t be that far ahead,” added Riley. “There’s not a lot to it, but there are some farmers around there. We only need a few gallons to get to the ranch.”
Cooper glanced down at the gauge and then leaned toward the window to catch a glimpse of the sun. It was rapidly dropping behind the mountains in New Mexico.
“All right, let’s find a place to bunk in for the night. If we’re gonna run out of gas, let’s do it during the day. Right?”
Cooper slowed to turn the truck to the right along another dusty road connecting the pumping wells. If you tracked their path from above, it would resemble the gray line on an Etch A Sketch machine with its series of right-straight-left-straight turns, continuously advancing forward toward their destination, but using precious fuel to remain on the dirt roads.
While he continued to drive, Riley and Palmer retrieved their binoculars and began scanning the landscape. It was Palmer who first noticed an available option. She pointed to the right and nudged Riley, who focused in with his more powerful set of optics.
“Sure enough,” he started. “Aboveground oil tankers. That means there’s a road over there, Coop.”
“I’m on it,” said Cooper, who sat a little higher in the seat and began choosing right turns to make his way toward the tanks.
As they got closer, Riley got excited. “Hey, there are a couple of eighteen-wheelers parked in front. We could siphon enough to get us to the ranch, y’all.”
Cooper found a service road, which took them due south, and eventually, they found their way to a long stretch of deserted highway just as nighttime arrived.
The storage tanks, which contained pure crude oil, were part of one of several hundred similar facilities located throughout West Texas. They acted as repositories for the crude pumped from the wells for further delivery to refineries.
The facilities were unmanned except for an occasional storage shed and a port-o-potty in the parking lot, although even in normal times, when mother nature called, the truck drivers most likely used the wide-open spaces surrounding the remote location.
“Riley, do you wanna clear it, or do you want me to?” asked Cooper as he stopped and shut off the motor a quarter mile from the repository. Ordinarily, the two guys would work in tandem when they found a place to bed down for the night, but the soldiers had confiscated all of their weapons and ammo at the checkpoint except one rifle.
“I got it,” said Riley as he grabbed the AR-15 and jogged ahead.
While Riley headed into the dark, Cooper got out to stretch his legs. The front seat of Red Rover was cramped for a lanky young man like Cooper, especially one who’d spent most of his adult life riding bulls. After a day behind the wheel of the old Landy, he felt forty years older.
Palmer watched Riley until he was out of sight. “I can’t see him anymore, Coop.”
“Do you think I should’ve gone with him?”
>
“It should be—” Palmer began to answer when two gunshots rang out.
Cooper didn’t hesitate as he began racing toward Riley and the oil tanks. “Bring the truck!”
Cooper’s heart was beating out of his chest as he sprinted toward Riley, arriving in just a minute. His boots clomped on the asphalt road, announcing his arrival.
“Coop, we’re good!” shouted Riley from the darkness.
The headlights of Red Rover illuminated the parking lot just as Cooper ran through the gravel and found Riley standing alone with his gun cradled in his arms.
“What happened?” asked Cooper as he arrived out of breath.
“I saw a wild pig and took a couple of shots at it.”
As Riley replied, Palmer drove into the parking lot with too much momentum, causing her to lock up the brakes and throw gravel all over the back of an oil tanker as she skidded to a stop near its rear bumper.
“Jeez!” shouted Riley. “I didn’t call for the cavalry.”
Palmer spun out of the truck. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m the one with the gun, remember? I was just shootin’ at a pig. I think it was a javelina.”
“Really, you were hog huntin’?” Palmer was incredulous. She ran toward Riley, intent on whoopin’ him for scaring her. “You dope! You can’t do that in the dark and with us back there worried about you!”
Riley slumped his shoulders. “But I thought we could have a good supper. Don’t you miss the taste of good Texas B-B-Q?”
Palmer slugged him again as Riley cowered. Palmer was the only person on earth, except for their Momma, who could tame Riley. Cooper had often mused that any prospective wife of his would have to hire the Armstrong women as consultants on how to keep his younger brother in line.
“Yeah, I like barbeque too, but when it’s slow cooked and dripping in Daddy’s sauce,” said Palmer. “I’m not gonna eat some feral hog full of disease out here, half-cooked with no sauce.”
“It wasn’t feral, it was a javelina,” Riley began to argue the point, perhaps, Cooper thought, to deflect attention from his lack of common sense at firing a rifle, which might draw attention to them.
