“I’m sorry,” she said, pulling the cover back to her. “This was a mistake.”
He reached out and stopped her.
“Darlin’ I was just taking a moment to enjoy the view. Now slide over. I’m coming in.”
CHAPTER
21
Ona slipped out just before dawn, but Tanner could still smell her on the pillows when Samantha bumped on the door several hours later.
“Are you still alive?” she asked, peeking in at him.
He sat up and stretched.
“Barely.”
“It’s nearly ten o’clock.”
“Thank you for the time check.” He started to climb out of bed when he realized that he was naked. “I’ll meet you downstairs. You go on ahead.”
“Okay, but hurry. Everyone’s waiting on you. And guess what?”
“What?”
“They got us a school bus!” She turned and disappeared around the corner.
“Great,” he mumbled, crawling out of bed.
Ten minutes later, he walked downstairs, carrying his shotgun in one hand and smoothing his hair down with the other. Last night, he couldn’t have cared less what the Chatty Cathys thought of him, but today, he felt like he was reporting for his first day of work.
Genessee hurried over with an excited smile on her face.
“Would you like some coffee, Mr. Tanner?”
“Is it hot?”
“Of course. I just took the water off the fire.”
“Then I’d love some. Black is fine.”
He looked around the room and gave everyone a once-over. Peta looked even uglier than she had the night before. He passed over her and let his eyes settle on Ona. She was trying to keep a conversation going with the woman sitting beside her, but despite her best efforts, her eyes kept drifting away to look at him.
“Did you sleep well?” Genessee asked, leaning around from the kitchen.
“Better than I thought possible.”
Ona covered a smile.
“You must have,” Peta said, making it a point to look at the clock on the wall.
Genessee returned from the kitchen and handed him a cup of steaming coffee and a large slice of pound cake.
He took a bite of the cake and immediately nodded his approval.
“Did you eat, Sam?” he asked, crumbs falling from his mouth.
She nodded. “Two pieces.”
Tanner took another bite and slurped some of the coffee. When he looked up, everyone in the room was staring at him.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll need a list of all of the kids’ names.”
“We have that,” Genessee said, holding up a piece of paper. “Names, ages, general descriptions—it’s all here.”
“Great. We don’t want to leave anyone behind. What about the Amish people who are caring for them? What are their names?”
“The leader’s name is Isaac Yoder. His wife is Miriam. They’re good people.”
He took another bite of cake.
“And do we have an address for Isaac?” he asked.
She flipped over the page, and he saw that a map had been drawn on the back.
“The interstate will take you most of the way. You’ll eventually turn north on Highway 62 and then left on Flat Iron Road.” She pointed to each of the roads on her makeshift map. “The total distance to the farm is about forty miles.”
“Sam tells me you got us a bus?”
Genessee moved the curtains aside, revealing a large orange school bus parked out front.
“There’s not a lot of gas in it,” she said, “but it should be enough to get you there and back.”
“It sounds like you’ve thought of everything.”
“We’ve done what we can, but it’s really all up to you. We’re counting on you.”
“Don’t worry,” said Samantha. “Tanner will bring them home.”
“And how would you know that?” Peta snapped, looking down her sharp beak of a nose.
Samantha’s face burned, but she stayed composed.
“I know because I believe in him. Maybe you should start believing too.”
“Mr. Tanner,” said Genessee, “please don’t take offense. I think Peta’s just afraid to get her hopes up again. Having a child of your own, you can understand how hard this is for us.”
Peta turned to stare at Tanner. Her faces slowly softened and tears began to pooling in the corners of her eyes.
“I’ll believe you if you tell me you’ll bring my boy home,” she said, her voice trembling. “But please don’t say it if it isn’t true. I can’t take that. Not again.”
Tanner met her eyes and saw not only pain and loss, but also helplessness. He was her last chance.
“One way or another,” he said. “I’ll bring him home.” He looked around the room. “I’ll bring them all home.”
Tanner had never driven a school bus in his entire life. Fortunately, the bus they selected was equipped with an Allison automatic transmission and conventional hydraulic brakes, and proved no more difficult to drive than a large U-Haul truck.
Samantha sat in the seat to his right.
“You keep an eye on our starboard,” he said. “I’ll watch the port.”
“Aye-aye, Captain.”
She looked out the window and then, hesitating, turned back to him.
“Just so I’m clear—you want me to watch my side, and you’ll watch yours, right?”
“Right.”
“Got it.”
The roads were quiet, and they were out of Salamanca within a few minutes, traveling west on the Southern Tier Expressway. Ten minutes later, they were crossing Quaker Run Road, a scenic route that paralleled the river until it ran down into the Allegany State Park.
“What do you think happened to those two women?” she asked.
“What women?”
“The ones who tried to get their kids back.”
He shrugged. “They either ran into trouble on the road or at the farm, I suppose.”
“Well, yeah, but I mean do you think it was zombies, bandits, or what exactly?”
“There’s no such thing as zombies.”
“You keep telling me that, and yet you keep killing them.”
He sighed.
“Come on,” she said. “You have to admit that thing in the tunnel was definitely not human.”
“Maybe not, but he wasn’t a zombie either.”
“That’s what my mom would call arguing over romantics.”
Tanner glanced over at her.
“Romantics?”
She nodded. “When you’re arguing over romantics, it means you’re fussing over something trivial.”
He grinned. “Okay, I’ll give that one to you.”
Tanner looked up and saw an exit ahead for Onoville Road. Without saying a word, he slowed down and headed for the ramp.
“Hey,” she said, double-checking the map, “they said to stay on the interstate until we hit Highway 62.”
“Maybe so, but you and I know better. What do we say about interstates?”
She thought for a moment.
“I don’t know. What?”
“Interstates are filled with murderers, dogs, and dead bodies.”
She wrinkled her brow. “We’ve never said that.”
“No, but we should’ve.”
He came to a stop at the end of the ramp and gestured toward the map.
“See if you can find Onoville Road.”
She ran her finger across the map until she found it.
“Here it is. Steamburg is on our starboard side.”
He grinned. “And does that take us toward Conewango?”
“It sure does.”
He turned right. Deep cracks split the two-lane road, and the center line had long since worn away. There was a large red barn to the left with two small grain silos sitting beside it. To the right was an old post office with a g
enuine hitching post out front. He continued ahead.
They came across a huge plot of land on both sides of the road that had been used to grow corn. The stalks of last year’s crop still littered the field, and a tractor sat dormant, nearly buried in the tall grass.
A few hundred feet further down the road was a small two-pump gas station. The sign out front boasted about having tax-free gasoline and cigarettes. Three men dressed in denim coveralls stood outside the store, smoking. One carried a double-barrel shotgun, but upon seeing the school bus, offered a friendly wave.
“Are they Amish?” asked Samantha.
“Nope.”
“How can you be sure?”
“The gun for one. The Amish reject all forms of violence.”
“How do they do that?”
“I guess they turn the other cheek, like it says in the Bible.”
“I don’t see how they could do that now. Not with all the zombies and criminals out there.” She smiled at him. “No offense.”
He ignored the slight.
“There’s always been violence. Somehow they manage.”
She looked down at her rifle.
“Maybe I should become Amish.”
Tanner smiled. “Do you know what the difference is between an Amish girl and a water buffalo?”
“No. What?”
“About twelve pounds of hair.”
She laughed. “That’s mean.”
“Maybe, but it’s funny.”
“Seriously, what else is special about them?”
“You’re asking the wrong fella.”
“Come on. You said that you’d been here a few times.”
“So?”
“So, you must have learned something.”
He sighed. “Well let’s see... I know that they don’t use modern technology. They do everything by hand, like in the old days.”
“They don’t have cars?”
He shook his head. “No electricity, cell phones, or computers either.”
“None of us have those things anymore,” she said.
“True. And do you really miss them?”
“You bet.”
He laughed. “Yeah, me too.”
“Okay, so no electricity or computers. What else?”
“I’ve heard they have a set of rules called the ordnung, or something like that. I don’t know if it’s ever even been written down.”
“If it’s not written down, how does anyone know the rules?”
“When was the last time you read a law book?”
“Never.”
“And yet you know not to kill or steal.”
“Ah, I get it,” she said. “What happens if they break the rules?”
“I guess that depends on what they did. If it’s too bad, they excommunicate the person.”
“What’s that mean?”
“They toss him out on his ear.”
“But where does he go if he’s excom—, you know, if he’s tossed out on his ear?”
Tanner shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe there’s a big group of ex-Amish partiers out there somewhere, all walking around with their top buttons undone.”
“Do you not like the Amish?”
“I got nothing against them.”
“But...”
“But nothing. They got their way, and I got mine.”
“But your way is the exact opposite of theirs.”
He nodded. “I think it’s fair to say that I’m made out of Amish antimatter, if there is such a thing.”
She thought for a moment.
“I don’t think I could do without electricity.”
“You are doing without electricity.”
“Well, yeah, but you know what I mean. Not for a really long time.”
Tanner didn’t have the heart to tell her that she would surely be a grown woman before electricity was ever restored.
The next fifteen miles of back roads were more of the same: big red barns, churches, old houses, and acre after acre of farmland. The most threatening thing they encountered was a goat that had strayed out into the road.
As they made the final turn onto Flatiron Road, they saw a horse-drawn buggy blocking the road ahead. Two men wearing black clothes and straw hats stood in front of the buggy with their hands raised.
“Head’s up now. Amish or not, let’s not take any chances.”
“Right,” she said, readying her rifle.
Tanner stopped about fifty yards from the Amish men, grabbed his shotgun, and stepped from the bus.
“You want to stay here and cover me?” he asked, looking back at Samantha.
“I’d rather see what they look like.”
He shrugged. “Come on then.”
As they walked toward the men, Tanner studied them carefully. Neither appeared to have a weapon, and their clothes were the typical Amish fare, handmade black coat and pants, shirts buttoned up to the top, and simple straw hats. They also had healthy beards without mustaches, which was normal for married men. If they weren’t genuine Amish, they knew enough to look the part.
When they got to within a few paces, the older of two men stepped forward. He had a weathered face but kind eyes. He glanced at Samantha and then turned to Tanner and extended his hand. The man’s grip was strong and his hands calloused. They were real Amish all right.
“I’m Jacob Miller.” He gestured toward the younger man. “This is my oldest son, Samuel.”
“I’m Tanner, and this is my daughter, Samantha.”
Jacob looked at the girl.
“Daughter, you say?”
“That’s right.”
Jacob met Tanner’s eyes but said nothing more about it.
“Unless you’re just passing through, you should turn back.”
“Why’s that?” asked Tanner.
“We have a problem in our community that poses a grave threat to visitors.”
Samuel, who looked about thirty years younger than his father, added, “Please, this is for your own safety.”
“What kind of threat?” asked Samantha.
“Please,” Jacob repeated, ignoring the question, “it’s not safe here.”
Tanner nodded. “We appreciate the warning, but we’re here to pick up some kids.”
The old man looked to his son, but he only shook his head.
“What children do you speak of?”
“A few weeks ago, the townspeople in Salamanca sent fourteen kids here to stay with Isaac Yoder. We’re here to take them back home.”
“Ah,” Jacob said, nodding, “yes, I see. You came for the English children.”
“That’s right.”
Jacob looked up at the sun, weighing a decision.
Finally, he said, “Come, then. We must hurry.”
Tanner followed Jacob and Samuel for the better part of a mile, moving at a pace that their single horse felt was appropriate for the beautiful spring afternoon. They passed several Amish farms that were spread out along Flatiron Road, easily recognizable by their barns, grain towers, and the absence of cars or farm machinery.
When they arrived at a large farmhouse, Jacob turned into the dirt driveway and came to a stop. Tanner pulled in behind them and swung the bus around to make it easier to get back out onto the road.
The two Amish men hopped from their buggy and hurried inside.
Tanner and Samantha stood by the bus, hoping to see a long line of children come pouring out of the farmhouse. Instead of children, however, the two men returned with a middle-aged Amish woman. She looked stout enough to wrestle a pig to the ground, something she had undoubtedly done on more than one occasion. She wore a dark blue dress and had a white apron tied around her waist. Her hair was tucked under a simple white cotton bonnet.
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