They made twelve miles the second day, crossing US 50 at Ashby Gap and continuing four miles to the Rod Hollow shelter, arriving with two hours of daylight remaining. They were limping by the time they made camp in the woods, well away from the shelter, Wiggins more than Tex. They boiled pasta in the little pot of the ultralight camp stove Levi had included in the pack. They wolfed it down plain, carbs to balance the nuts and jerky they’d eaten through the day. The little AT guidebook was already proving invaluable, for its list of water sources alone. They topped their camel packs at the shelter before retreating to their hidden campsite and stringing their bell-studded fishing line through the trees.
When Wiggins removed his boots to massage his aching feet, he’d found the nails of both big toes purplish and tender to the touch. Roomy, steel-toed work boots were fine for standing on the engine-room deck plates for long hours, but far from ideal for hiking. Tex was having similar problems, though her toenails weren’t yet discolored. But exhaustion proved an effective anesthetic and they’d crawled into their hammocks with the setting sun and slept like the dead to rise, stiff and sore, at first light.
They breakfasted on leftover cold pasta, jerky, and a handful of nuts, then donned extra pairs of socks to pad their aching feet. They laced their boots extra tight across the insteps, seeking to protect their battered toes, and started north with the rising sun—to find even more challenging terrain. Yesterday was long grueling climbs followed by equally long descents, but the past hours had been a roller coaster in comparison: a seemingly endless series of steep climbs with equally steep downhill grades, jamming their toes despite the tightness of the laces.
Wiggins was close to hobbling, and despite having made only ten miles for the day and with several hours of daylight remaining, he’d readily agreed to Tex’s suggestion they start looking for a place to camp. He limped up the hill behind her now, trying not to fixate on their poor progress—two and a half days to make twenty-five miles—at this rate it would take him over four months to reach his family, provided his feet held out. He shook off the gloom and spoke to Tex’s back.
“So what does the guidebook say about this Bear’s Den place?”
“It looks to be a fairly substantial facility,” she said. “It’s a state park and listed as ‘the premier hiker’s hostel on the AT.’ Looks like they have showers and food service, though I doubt if there’s anyone there at this point. I’m just hoping we can liberate some toilet paper and … other things. Levi was a bit stingy with paper goods. We can hunt food, but we can’t make toilet paper and I’m not a big fan of leaves.”
“You think we’ll run into anyone?” he asked.
“I’m thinking no,” she said back over her shoulder, “but it’s probably more likely there than other places. It is a park off a paved road.”
“Wait up,” Wiggins said, and Tex complied, her eyebrows raised in a question as Wiggins caught up with her.
“Let’s leave our packs hidden back here off the trail and approach this place cautiously. If we have to run, we’re not doing it with packs on our back. We can loop back later and get them. For that matter, maybe we ought to just keep to the woods and bypass this place.”
Tex shook her head. “My camel pack ran dry a mile back and the next water source beyond Bear’s Den is at least two hours, given our rate of travel. And what if it’s dry? How’s your water?”
“I’m almost dry too,” he admitted. “All right, then I guess it’s the ‘cautious approach’ scenario. Let’s get a little closer to the top, then ditch our packs. I’m thinking we don’t walk into the place from the trail but circle around and give it a good look from cover first.”
Tex grinned. “You’re getting so damned paranoid; Levi would be proud.”
“I became a convert as soon as people started shooting at us.”
Tex nodded and started back up the hill. When the trees began to thin, they moved off the trail and took off their packs. Wiggins opened his and pulled out the little survival rifle, quickly assembling it and slapping in a magazine.
“Going squirrel hunting?” Tex asked.
“Hey, it’s better than nothing. You got the Glock?”
Tex reached around and patted the small of her back. “It hasn’t been out of reach since the first shots were fired.”
Wiggins nodded and they moved through the woods to the edge of a clearing. There in the center stood an impressive stone lodge built into the side of a low hill with a door to a daylight or ‘walk out’ basement in the rear. They kept to the woods and crept all the way around the building, alert for any signs of habitation.
“No activity, no cars,” Wiggins whispered. “I’d say no one’s home.”
“I agree,” Tex said. “Let’s go back around. That basement door is supposed to be the hikers’ entrance, accessible twenty-four hours a day.”
Wiggins nodded and they emerged from the clearing and walked to the rear of the lodge. Sure enough, the door had a keypad.
“What’s up with that?” Wiggins asked.
“According to the guidebook, you’re supposed to enter the ‘mileage code’ for access. Not that it matters, since there’s no power.”
Wiggins was looking around. He spotted what he was looking for and returned with a large rock and smashed a window.
“I don’t think that’s what they had in mind for ‘hiker access,’“ Tex said.
“Hey, we got our share of the payoff money from the ship, I’ll leave a couple of hundred bucks.”
“Works for me,” Tex said as Wiggins tapped glass shards from the window frame with the rock and reached inside to unlock the window.
“I’m smaller,” Tex said. “Boost me in and I’ll unlock the door.”
Moments later they were inside, examining a row of bunk beds and a lounge with basic amenities. Wiggins followed Tex down a hall to a bathroom, and heard her emit a relieved sigh. He followed her gaze to a tampon dispenser on the wall and suppressed a smile. Couldn’t really fault Levi for not putting that essential in his ‘getting home’ bag, he thought.
He walked to the sink and turned the faucet, surprised when water gushed out. Pressure was low, but adequate and he let it run a long moment to make sure it wasn’t just residual water in the line.
“Damn! Running water. I’m thinking that must mean gravity flow from a tank—”
“And I’m thinking SHOWERS! Try the hot water,” Tex said.
“Fat chance,” Wiggins said as he twisted the knob. Warm water gushed across his hand.
“Well, I’ll be damned. Must be solar.”
“Hallelujah!” Tex said, and Wiggins laughed and nodded to a shelf piled with towels and personal-sized soap and shampoo.
“Ladies first,” he said. “I’ll have a look around and stand watch out here just to make sure no one catches us by surprise. After you’ve showered, you can return the favor. But first, let’s go back and grab our packs.”
An hour later, they had both finished their showers and were sitting in the lounge area of the hiker hostel.
“We still have daylight left, and I’m feeling much better,” Wiggins said. “Should we try to put a few more miles behind us?”
Tex shook her head. “I think both our feet could use the rest. I also think we have to face facts. We can’t continue like this. We’ve been hiking less than three days and we’re both near crippled. We HAVE to get better footwear, or we’re unlikely to make it at all.”
“And how we gonna do that? It’s not like there’s an REI or a Cabela’s on the trail.”
Tex flipped through the guidebook. “There’s a general store in Bluemont, and this is hiking country. They might have something. Even sneakers or running shoes would be better than these work boots.”
“Okay, how far to Bluemont?”
“A mile and a half as the crow flies, but about three times that overland. We can take the AT down to Snicker’s Gap, but then we’d have to get on the road. From the switchbacks, I’m guessing it will be a hell
of a climb up the road to Bluemont.”
“I don’t know, Tex. An eight- or nine-mile round trip that doesn’t get us any closer to home, to check out a store that’s surely not open and probably doesn’t have what we need if it is? That doesn’t sound promising.”
“We can use your patented ‘rock method’ to open it, and we just leave money if we find what we need.” She sighed. “But you’re right, anyway you hack it, it’s the better part of a day’s trip and doesn’t get us any closer to home.”
“What’s the next possibility?”
“Harpers Ferry. A bit over twenty miles, but that’s a fairly populous area, and I’m a bit worried about straying off the trail there. In fact, I was already worried about Harpers Ferry anyway.”
“Why?”
“Because we cross both the Shenandoah and the Potomac rivers there, and given what we saw at Front Royal, I’m guessing there’ll be roadblocks on the bridges. And a boat’s pretty much a nonstarter, even if we could find one, because both rivers are full of rapids at that point. It’s bridges or nothing.”
“So is there any good news?”
Tex looked over at the rows of bunks. “Well, if we stay here tonight we don’t have to sack out in those damned hammocks. I mean, they’re better than sleeping on the ground with the creepy crawlies and they are light to carry, but they’re getting old real quick. I could use a good night’s sleep on a mattress.”
Wiggins looked skeptical. “I’d love to sack out in a real bed too, but we’re sitting ducks if anyone stumbles in here when we’re sleeping.”
“If anyone shows up, it will likely be from the road, and they’ll break in the front and we’ll hear them. And just to be on the safe side, we’ll barricade the door from the upstairs down here to the basement to buy some more time, and keep our packs by our bunks and ready to go. At the first sign of trouble, we’ll wake up, grab our gear, and be back in the woods before anyone even knows we were here.”
“It’s tempting,” said Wiggins, “but I think it would be a mistake.”
Tex looked crestfallen, but she nodded. “Yeah, you’re right.”
Then Wiggins smiled. “But the mattresses aren’t nailed to the bunks. There’s nothing says we can’t carry a couple of them out into the woods a ways and set up our camp there. We can always drag ‘em back in the morning if we want to be stand-up citizens. We’ll need to come in and top up our water anyway.”
Tex grinned. “And use a real toilet as long as it’s available.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Wiggins said.
Hughes’ Residence
Pecan Grove
Oleander, Texas
Day 16, 4:00 p.m.
“This stinks, Mom. And it’s hot! How much more do we have to do?”
Laura Hughes wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of a gloved hand. She looked across the large garden to where her daughter Jana rested on her knees, her fifteen-year-old face contorted in anguish at the latest perceived injustice. Laura sighed.
“All right, just finish those two rows and we’ll call it a day. We’ve made a good dent and it’s not like the weeds won’t be here tomorrow.”
“TWO ROWS? REALLY? That’s not fair! I’ve done TWICE as much as Julie. Why does SHE get to stay inside just because she’s sunburned? You TOLD her to use sunblock. Now she gets to stay inside while I work like a SLAVE. And I did what you told me to. It’s not fair.”
Laura suppressed her anger, something she was having to do more frequently as the days dragged. She took a calming breath.
“You’re right, Jana, it’s not fair, but neither is life, so you’d best learn to deal with it. Regardless of how Julie got sunburned, she IS burned and that can’t be undone. If she gets back out in this sun too soon, she could get seriously ill and we have no way to handle that. That leaves just the two of us. To keep eating, we need to keep the garden in good shape and I can’t do it by myself, so fair or not, you have to help me. And it’s not like Julie isn’t working. She’s washing all the clothes by hand and I’ve given her ALL of your inside chores.” She paused and her voice softened, sounding weary to the bone. “I’m doing the best I can, honey, and it’s not fair to me either, but help me out here a little, please.”
Jana stared at her mother for a long moment and then a single tear rolled down her cheek. Her shoulders began to shake in silent sobs. Laura was on her feet in an instant, stepping over the rows separating them, to kneel at her daughter’s side and fold her into an embrace.
“It’s okay, honey, it’s okay,” she said, patting Jana’s back. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“N-no, Mom,” Jana stuttered between sobs, “it … it’s ME who … who should be sorry. You … you’re working so hard … and Dad’s gone and we don’t know … we don’t know whe … when he’s coming home … or even if he’s okay. And the power’s out and we don’t even know if it’s coming back … and we haven’t seen any of our friends … and people are getting really mean and it just SUCKS so bad.” Jana took a ragged breath, tears flowing freely now. “Mom, I’m just so scared, and Julie is too.” She sniffed loudly, and Laura released her to peel off her own gloves and dig a crumpled handkerchief from the pocket of her jeans.
“Blow,” she said as she held the handkerchief to Jana’s nose.
Her daughter complied and Laura smiled. “You haven’t done that since you were a little girl.”
Jana smiled back through the tears. “I remember.”
Laura pulled her close in a fierce hug. “Then remember I took care of you then, and I’ll take care of you now.”
Laura released her daughter and stood, then reached down to grab a hand and pull Jana up after her. “And on second thought, I think we’ve done enough today. What say we go in and have a big glass of iced tea?”
Jana nodded emphatically. “Thank God for the generator. I don’t think I could stand this without ice. And since making tea is an INSIDE job, I do believe the sunburn queen can SERVE me my tea.”
Laura burst out laughing. “You just talked me out of an hour of weeding, so don’t push your luck. I am NOT going to spend my OWN goof off time refereeing another fight between you two. I get to play hooky a bit too, you know.”
***
Texas State Highway 124
Westbound
Day 16, 5:00 p.m.
“There ain’t nothin’ out here, Willard,” said Kyle Morgan. “We ain’t seen jack since we went through that shitty little town a while back. We need to go back and check that out. There’s likely some loot to be had there.”
“Would you just shut the hell up and do what I tell you,” said Willard Jukes. “Who’s in charge here, anyway?”
“I’m just sayin’—”
“And I’m just sayin’ shut the hell up! We been over it. We find an isolated place nobody’s likely to find; otherwise it’s too risky,” Jukes said.
“I know, Willard, but I been thinking. Maybe we should just loot like usual. If Snag or Spike find out—”
“Don’t you go gettin’ chickenshit on me now. You’re just as pissed as I am about bringin’ in all the good stuff and having it dripped back to us like we’re some sort of pimply-faced jerk-off kids on an allowance. And I’m doubly pissed off about the pussy. We brought in eight or ten of them bitches our own selves, so we should at least get one apiece for our very own, and the pick of the lot too, leastwise of the ones we brung in.”
“I know, Willard, but if we get caught …”
“For the umpteenth time, we AIN’T gonna get caught. We just find us an isolated place on one of these crappy country roads and take it. Then when we find some good stuff or really smokin’ hot bitches, we bring ‘em here along with our share of the loot and take the rest of the stuff back to Spike. We’ll lock the women up first until we got ‘em broke in good, then we have ‘em run the place. We visit when we want. And here’s the beauty part, if anyone gets suspicious, we just close down and ‘find’ the location and bring all the loot back to the
prison. The women won’t say nothin’ ‘cause they know we’ll kill ‘em if they do. Matter of fact, we can kill one of ‘em ahead of time, just to show the others we mean business.”
Jukes paused and looked at Morgan. “It’s just like skimmin’ in the old days except now there ain’t no cash involved. I used to do it all the time and I never got caught, for that anyway.”
Morgan said nothing, but gave an unconvincing nod.
They rode in silence a few minutes until they approached a minor intersection.
“Take that road to the left,” Jukes said, and Morgan complied.
“This don’t look like it goes nowhere,” Morgan said.
“Every road goes somewhere, it’s just a question of what’s at the end of it,” Jukes said, “and in this case, I’m thinking this one will take us to that buncha trees way over yonder.”
Morgan followed Jukes’ pointing finger to a dark green blot far across the flat pastureland.
“Why there?” Morgan asked.
“‘Cause if we can see ‘em this far away, that means they’re damn big trees. Trees like that don’t just spring up in the middle of this flat pastureland. They gotta be planted and a long time ago at that. Like as not, there’s a house there, and maybe a pretty big one. And you can’t get a whole lot more isolated. Must be ten miles to the nearest neighbor, easy.”
They rode in silence, broken only by the road noise outside the car, barely audible through the closed windows over the welcome hum of the air conditioner. The green blot grew in the windshield, and as they neared, they saw a large white farmhouse nestled in the edge of the trees and a barn and other outbuildings nearby. Jukes looked at Morgan and grinned as the car turned up the long drive.
“Now this might be just the ticket,” Jukes said.
Hughes’ Residence
Pecan Grove
Oleander, Texas
Day 16, 6:15 p.m.
Laura was in the kitchen, putting together a salad for supper as the car turned up the drive. She’d decided to let the girls goof off a bit more, and they were in the air-conditioned guest room, playing video games. It wasn’t the best use of generator fuel, but the social isolation was especially hard on the girls. She was learning allowances from time to time made their new lives tolerable.
Under a Tell-Tale Sky: Disruption - Book 1 Page 28
