Into the River Lands (Darkness After Series Book 2)

by Williams, Scott B.

  Lisa continued to argue but Jason cut her off. “Let’s just get back to the creek first and then decide. That David guy is lying out there in the woods unconscious and helpless. Anything could come along and find him, and he is April’s husband. She probably thinks he’s dead. It will be a nice surprise for her when Mitch does bring her and Kimberly back and he’s here waiting for them. If he ever wakes up, that is.”

  Lisa agreed that whatever they were going to do, they couldn’t waste time. She went to her room and got her rifle and Stacy’s and then made sure Corey and Samantha were armed too; Corey with a shotgun and Samantha with a 10/22 carbine. Jason wasn’t sure how those two would react if they got into a gunfight, but it made sense for them to at least carry weapons. Corey and Samantha had less experience with guns and the woods than Jason did before the pulse, if that were even possible. Refugees from the Gulf coast town of Long Beach, these two nineteen-year-old college students had turned up at the farm about a month ago after escaping from a shelter that had turned out to be more of a prison than a safe haven. Though they hadn’t known each other before the collapse, they were a devoted couple by the time they got to the Henley property. Mitch had liked both of them from the start, and seeing that they were not a threat and could possibly be an asset on the property, he had taken them in with the consent of the others. It never hurt to have more eyes and more guns to keep watch over the house and farm when he was away, and though they were unskilled when they arrived, both were eager to learn how to hunt and willing to work and do whatever else was needed to earn their place there.

  Jason didn’t like leaving the house unguarded now, and he knew Mitch wouldn’t either, but he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to stop Lisa from taking off after Mitch even if he didn’t agree to go and if she did, he would need all the help he could get dragging a travois all the way back here through the woods. Even if Lisa was reasonable and decided to come back with them it would be good to have extra help, so they all set off together, with him leading the way.

  He didn’t have much trouble finding his way back after having just come from the place across the creek from the sandbar where April and Kimberly were taken. But when they arrived on the wooded bank and he confirmed it was the right place, David was nowhere to be seen. He was not where he and Mitch had left him, lying in the shade of a giant white oak, nor was he anywhere nearby as far as Jason could see.

  “He’s gone!” Jason said, turning around to look at Lisa and the others with disbelief.

  “Are you sure this is the right place?” Lisa asked.

  “Yes, there’s no doubt in my mind. He was right here under this tree. And look, right over there across the creek; that’s the sandbar where Mitch saw those guys knock him out and kidnapped April and her baby. I was over there with him. We carried David across the river and put him here. He was still out cold when I left. That couldn’t have been more than about an hour and a half ago.”

  “Yeah, I believe you,” Lisa said. “She was down on her knees examining the compressed leaves where the weight of David’s body had been. Jason knew that while she wasn’t nearly the tracker her brother was, she did know a whole lot more about it than he did.

  “Do you think something got him?” Jason asked. “Mitch said the wild dogs and coyotes would find him if we left him out here at night, but it’s still a couple of hours before dark.”

  “I don’t see any blood or drag marks, but I’m looking. Just give me a few minutes. There’s got to be an explanation for this.”

  Nineteen

  WHEN HE OPENED HIS eyes he saw a tall canopy of leafy treetops far overhead, obscuring most of the sky except for a few patches of blue in the gaps between the branches. Floating across those patches of sky were a few puffy cumulous clouds, drifting slowly to the south, pushed by the north wind that chilled the air just enough to make him slightly uncomfortable. The view of clouds, sky and trees was confusing but almost hypnotic. He continued to stare at it for what seemed like quite a long time, with little desire to move or look elsewhere.

  With the realization that what he was seeing was real, there came another sensation of dull, throbbing pain from the left side of his head. The pain was getting worse, or at least he was becoming more aware of it, making it seem so. It felt like a deep ache, radiating from inside his skull to the contact point on the ground beneath his head, making him want to lift it up to make it stop. But when he tried to sit up, it seemed to get worse. He reached up with his left hand to touch the area that was the source of the pain and felt a lump beneath his fingers. Pressing on it made the hurt more intense, so he drew his hand away. Keeping his head as still as possible, he rolled his eyes from side-to-side to try and determine where he was. All he saw was trees. There was nothing surrounding him but trees and the deep litter of leaves and pine straw that covered the ground where he lay on the forest floor.

  In addition to the rustle of wind through the leafy canopy overhead, he heard the chirps and singing of small birds hidden in the foliage somewhere nearby. But there was another sound too that seemed to come from somewhere out there among the trees. It was constant and melodic, a gentle sound that at first he did not recognize and that made no sense. Once again, he attempted to lift his head, and this time he pushed through the pain, rolling onto his side to lift his body up on one elbow so that he could look in the direction of that mysterious sound. What he saw glimmering through the foliage down the slope beneath him explained it. It was the sound of running water; the gentle flowing of a river or stream. He could see the current swirling as it parted around a protruding stump a short distance from the bank, the rush of its movement contributing to the music the river played.

  Farther out, on the other side of the moving water, was a shimmering beach of white sand, standing out in stark contrast to the deep green of the forest and the dark water that bordered it. He stared at it for several more minutes, propped on his elbow as he took in the surroundings and tried to remember where he was. He didn’t have a clue how he got here and why he awoke alone in this place. The pain in his head came and went in throbbing waves, making it hard to think of anything else, much less concentrate or remember. He didn’t know why it was hurting so, or what caused the knot that seemed to be the source. He had no memory of falling and hitting his head, but he figured that must have been what happened.

  Thinking of this, he realized he couldn’t remember where he was supposed to be either, much less how he’d gotten to such a beautiful place and why he’d come. He looked down at his feet and saw the worn leather of the Timberland hiking boots he was wearing. Those were familiar, and seemed to belong there. He always wore those boots, he could remember that for sure. The faded Levis covering his legs felt natural as well, as did the gray sweatshirt that was barely warm enough now that the afternoon sun was filtering through the trees at a low angle. He figured he must have taken a nap, and that he had slept much later than he planned to. Whatever the reason, he knew he couldn’t lie there like that any longer. He had to get somewhere important, he just couldn’t remember where it was or why.

  Ignoring the agony of his headache, he rolled the rest of the way from where he was propped on his elbow until he was on his hands and knees. Unable to move further until the waves of pain subsided again, he paused in that position, staring down at the leaves between his hands, watching a trickling stream of tiny ants that were clearly on their way to somewhere important too. Knowing he had to get moving just like them, he watched for a few more minutes before pushing himself up into a kneeling position. His hands free again, he reached up once more to touch the knot on his head. It felt huge, and he wished he had a mirror so he could see. Whatever he had hit his head against, it must have been a hard lick. He wondered if anyone had been with him when it happened, but then he figured probably not. If he was alone here now, he must have been alone then too. He couldn’t think of anyone who would have been with him anyway. In fact, he couldn’t think of anyone at all and wasn’t sure if he had seen any
other people in a long time. If he was here in these woods alone now, maybe he had been here longer than he could remember, but surely not in this spot, because the stream and the sandy beach did not look familiar. He didn’t recognize it so it couldn’t be the right place. Grabbing ahold of the trunk of a small sapling for support, he pulled himself the rest of the way to his feet, thinking maybe it would come to him if he could get a better view and have a look around.

  He felt dizzy when his full weight was on his feet, but the sensation gradually subsided and he began walking around in circles, looking for some clue as to where to go or what to do next. The answer didn’t come to him yet, but he became aware of his thirst and of his hunger. The first was easy to satisfy. He made his way down the bank and knelt at the edge of the stream. The water was dark, like the color of aged whiskey, but even so it was clear and not clouded with mud. It was cold and when he dipped up a double handful to his lips it tasted good. He drank his fill and splashed the cold water on the lump on the side of his head. It gave him some temporary relief but the aching inside his skull did not go away.

  As he knelt there, he saw schools of minnows darting about around submerged branches and the water plants growing in the shallows. He was really hungry and the tiny fish looked irresistible. He plunged into the creek grabbing at them with both hands, but even though he felt one in his grasp more than once, they slipped between his fingers before he could close his fists. It didn’t matter though, because the cold water felt good to him, despite the cool temperature of the air. He dunked his head under and at last got some relief from his headache. Pushing off with his feet, he swam into the main channel and rolled onto his back, floating, allowing the current to carry him downstream. It felt so good that he continued to drift; alternating swimming and floating until he finally started feeling too cold to stay in any longer.

  The sandbar was out of sight now, around the bend upstream, but across the creek on the same side, there was an opening in the dense woods that looked enticing. He swam across until his feet touched bottom and waded out of the water on the other side. The opening was a dry streambed, with steep clay banks from the top of which tall leaning trees closed overhead. He walked into the entrance, finding a natural path in the muddy bottom of the ditch. Looking down in the mixed sand and mud, he saw that there were other footprints everywhere. The footprints puzzled him, but he knew they had to mean he was in the right place. Other people lived around here for sure, and if they did, they probably had food. All he had to do was keep walking up this ditch until he found them. He forgot about his pain as he started out, picking his way along the bottom of the winding ditch with growing anticipation of what he was sure he would soon find.

  Twenty

  THE SUDDEN BOOM OF a nearby gunshot echoed through the woods from somewhere ahead; somewhere around the next bend in the river. April saw the surprise in Wayne’s eyes as he stopped talking mid-sentence and kept his paddle in the water mid-stroke, using the blade as a steering oar as he let the boat drift.

  “That was a shotgun!” he whispered. “Don’t move, and don’t make a sound!”

  April had not been talking anyway. She had been holding Kimberly close, ignoring his incessant chatter as she gently rocked her baby and whispered in her ear. All she had wanted was for him to shut up and leave her alone. It was bad enough that she was sitting there tied in the canoe, facing him, his eyes upon her the entire time while he paddled downstream.

  But he hadn’t stopped talking until now. It was obvious that he had not seen a woman for weeks, if not months, much less talked to one, and that he was not going to shut up, either now or when they got to where he was taking her. He claimed that the camp where they were going was on land he and the others with him had purchased long before the blackout, a hunting club of some kind, and that they had it well stocked for long-term self-sufficiency. That was why even after all these months they still had enough of the MREs they carried to go off on this long-range hunting and scouting trip without having to actually hunt for food.

  April was grateful for the peanut butter in the one he gave her that she fed to Kimberly, but she had no appetite herself right now. She knew she would have to eat what they offered her as time went on, but right now she was so angry and so sick with fear for her child and disgusted at what they had done to David that she wanted nothing to do with food.

  Ever since they had started downstream in the canoe, her mind had raced with thoughts of escaping this deranged maniac and she was desperate to come up with a way to do so before he rejoined the other three. If it seemed hopeless now, she knew it would be even worse when there were four of them again, especially with Kimberly to worry about. But even if she did not have her child to carry, she couldn’t run and could hardly walk. The swelling of her ankle had gotten worse since she’d been sitting in the canoe, and she knew she could barely put any weight on it when she stood.

  The shotgun blast coming from so close and in the direction they were headed was clearly a surprise to Wayne, because it meant someone they didn’t know about was in the immediate area. He said that it was for sure a shotgun and that you could tell by the dull booming report that was quite different from the crack of a high-powered rifle. April knew that was why it alarmed him. None of the others with him had been carrying a shotgun. They were all armed with military-style carbines of the AK and AR variety, though Wayne himself was carrying only a compound bow and the Glock pistol he wore in a low-slung holster.

  Kimberly had finally fallen asleep in her arms until the loud noise of the gun going off caused her to stir. April knew even before Wayne warned her with a stern whisper that she’d better keep her child quiet. He was clearly upset that there was an armed stranger so close by, and he would probably do anything to make sure neither her or Kimberly made a sound that might give away their presence on the creek.

  Without taking the blade out of the water, he steered the canoe with the paddle until it brushed up against a steep clay bank that was overhung with low branches and vines. He tied the bow painter to an exposed root and then sat there in silence, waiting and listening.

  “It’s probably someone hunting,” he whispered, “but I’m not paddling around that bend out in the open in the middle of this creek. Whoever it is could be right on the bank downstream. I’m going to slip down there on foot and have a look. You’re going to sit here and keep that kid quiet and not make a sound, do you understand?”

  April’s ankles were already tied together but before Wayne climbed up to the top of the bank, he bound her wrists again, but in a way so that she could still hold Kimberly and keep her quiet. He then and secured one end of a piece of the long line that was looped around her neck to an overhanging branch once he gained the top of the bank. In this position, there was no way she could struggle to work her bindings loose without fear of capsize. She looked at the fast-moving water rushing under the canoe against the bank and it made her nervous. She knew the deepest channels always ran up against the outside banks of the creek’s bends, and in many of these places there were eddies and other confused currents.

  “The canoe could flip over here,” she whispered. “ I will be hung and Kimberly will drown if it does!”

  “You’re exactly right. But if you sit still and don’t move, that won’t happen. So sit still!” he whispered back. “I’m not taking this canoe one bit farther down this creek until I find whoever fired that shotgun. It’s not worth the risk of getting ambushed. I don’t expect this to take long, because whoever fired that shotgun was really close.”

  * * *

  Wayne Parker looked at April and her baby one more time from atop the bank above the canoe. The clever way he’d devised to tie her neck to the branch high above her assured him she wasn’t going anywhere until he returned. He didn’t have to worry about her trying anything stupid; if she made a wrong move, it would indeed flip over and they would both be dead. The boat was well hidden, tied there under those overhanging bushes, and the current she had b
een worried about indeed made getting in and out of it without capsizing tricky. He had pulled himself up using roots sticking out of the bank, his bow slung over his back until he reached the top.

  Wayne didn’t want to come back and find them dead, but he was sure April had enough sense not to try and escape. He didn’t want to leave her at all, but this sudden shotgun blast really had him concerned. He and the others had seen no one on their trek upstream from their camp until they stumbled upon April and her family. Whoever fired that shotgun may have been in the vicinity then too, but if so, they had not seen or heard any sign of them.

  Before he set out to investigate, he unholstered the Glock 20 he wore on his right thigh and double-checked to make sure there was a round in the chamber. He already knew there was without looking, but it just made him feel better to verify it again anyway. Carrying a pistol like that was what gave him the confidence to travel with his bow as his only other weapon. There was nothing that walked in these woods that the 10mm couldn’t take down, and with the Glock Model 20’s 15-round capacity, he felt little need to be burdened by a rifle as well. It was nice to know it was on his side and ready for action, but the bow was what he would carry at ready, and he withdrew a carbon-fiber shaft with a Wasp Sharpshooter broadhead screwed on the tip and started in the direction from which gunshot came.

  Creeping through the creek-side undergrowth, he stayed as close to the bank as the vegetation allowed. The sound of the shotgun was loud enough that he knew whoever fired it could not be far away, because it would not carry near as far as a rifle report. He planned to check out the area around the next bend that had been out of sight from where they were when they heard it, and if there was nothing there, he would check out at least one more. He had to make sure that whoever was around was not waiting right there on the bank when they continued downstream in the canoe.