***
“Where are we?” Python asked as he started to sit up. Dawn’s early light was upon them.
Jill’s restraining hand kept him down. “We’re on I-35 coming up on Wichita. Stay down and still. I don’t want anyone spotting us from behind and alerting the driver he has ride-alongs.”
“Okay. I’ll stay awake, you get some sleep.” He pulled his sack from under his head and began to awkwardly rummage in it, pulling out a crushed food carton to eat flattened burger and cold fries.
Jill nodded and closed her eyes, exhausted.
She awoke as she felt the truck decelerating. Looking through gaps in the caterpillar tread, she saw the semi had turned off for a truck stop. Beyond the plaza she could see the edge of a municipality, presumably Oklahoma City.
“Get ready to jump off,” she warned. When the truck decelerated enough, they dropped off the back. A trucker behind them eyed the couple with disinterest as he drove past.
Glancing around, Jill couldn’t see any SS or police presence. Even so, she steered Python toward a picnic area away from the service building. “I’ve been wondering how they picked up on us before, and I have a guess,” she said.
“Besides two scruffy people getting out of an SS Humvee?”
“Yeah, well that’s the other possibility, bad luck. No, I was thinking biometrics. Our faces are in databases now. Maybe they tap in to the security cameras around the building, via the web. With martial law powers, I’m sure the Security Service is sucking up every bit of data it can.”
“So how do we beat that?”
Jill’s eyes narrowed as she rummaged in her dirty satchel, coming up with a burger and couple of stray fries. “Stay away from cameras. Stay hungry. Stay off the grid.”
“Okay. I’m getting used to starving.” He opened up his own bag and found a burger of his own, and half a cookie. “We’ll need water eventually, though.”
“Radiator refill hose,” Jill said, pointing with her chin. She finished off a plastic bottle and put its cap back on the empty.
“So what now? Steal a car, hop a truck?”
“Neither. Let’s see if I can find us a ride.”
“Why you?” he asked.
“Duh.” She unzipped her hoodie, tied up her t-shirt to show her rock-hard abs, and stood up. “Because most truckers are straight. But hey, if you want to look for one that isn’t…”
“Okay,” he said, putting up his hands. “I’ll refill the water bottles.”
“Keep your head down and your hood on. There are cameras above the pumps.” With that, she walked off to talk to truckers. Five minutes later she had secured a ride, but not with her bare midriff; it was her Corps tattoo that did it.
The driver looked about fifty, corpulent but still muscular, with ink on his arms that matched hers and a lot more. “Name’s Greg Hadley, Gunnery Sergeant, USMC, retired,” he said, shaking hands with them both. He turned Python’s arm over, holding onto it to look at his tattoos. “You been in,” he stated.
“Yeah, but I’m reformed now, boss,” Python responded humbly, and Jill almost snickered. Any con worth his salt knew when to suck up.
“As long as my sister in arms says you’re okay, you’re okay by me,” the man declared. “I was in the Gulf, you know,” he began, and for the next three hours he regaled them nonstop with war stories.
Now I know why we got the ride: he wanted an audience. Cheap at twice the price, Jill thought.
As they approached the Fort Worth area, the traffic began to slow down until it was creeping along. Up ahead they could see flashing lights from at least a dozen vehicles.
“Bad accident?” Greg asked, peering ahead.
Jill’s Eden eyesight reached farther. “No, looks like a checkpoint of some sort. Gunny, it’s been great, but we have to go.” She nudged Python to open the passenger door.
“Yeah, I don’t blame y’all,” Greg said wistfully. “Good luck, and stay away from Laredo.”
“Okay. Thanks,” Jill said. “Take care of yourself.”
“Ain’t nobody else will,” he replied with a wave.
They hopped off the running boards onto the shoulder next to the long line of traffic and then walked a few steps off into the verge. “Now what?” Python asked in exasperation.
“We go back, split up. You cross the traffic and walk along the other shoulder. They may be looking for a couple like us, or it may be a routine roadblock. Once you get parallel to the back of the line, where the cars are moving a bit, come on back.” Jill turned to walk northward as Python worked his way across the stopped traffic.
Once he had rejoined her, she pointed toward some nearby woods. “Let’s go there. I have an idea.”
As they descended the embankment they could see some sort of grand stadium-like structure off in the southwestern distance. “I think that’s a racing track. NASCAR or something,” Python remarked.
“Good,” she responded cryptically. They picked their way across a cattle fence and crossed a pasture, eventually approaching a small herd of beef loitering near the tree line. The animals stared as they walked past and into the forested draw. On the other side, they found more field and pastureland, and they hurried along dirt roads, giving farmers on tractors friendly waves.
Some squinted suspiciously, but most of the folks seemed pleasant, or at least Texas-polite. Jill remembered she’d done some training at Corpus Christi and the culture shock had been severe. At first she’d wondered whether they were all faking it, but eventually came to understand that the cool Angeleno disdain she thought of as normal was as alien to the Lone Star State as their genuine respectfulness was to her.
Two women on gorgeous Palominos overtook them, tipping their Stetsons with sheepskin-gloved hands. It was a great day to ride, chill but sunny. “Mornin’. Where y’all headed?” the leather-faced older one asked with innocent curiosity.
“Los Angeles,” Jill replied with a casual smile. Always stick as close to the truth as possible, she thought.
“Los Angeles, West Virginia, Anchorage, Vladivostok…bad business. Pandora’s box.”
Jill connected the dots. “I’m sorry…Anchorage? Vladivostok? Do you mean they got nuked?”
“Yep, and a few more places I can’t pronounce, in China and Russia and some o’ those Stans. Kablinkistan or something. People goin’ crazy.” Her gelding tossed his head, as if agreeing. “How you folks travelin’?”
“Hitchhiking, but the guy who gave us a lift made us get out before the interstate checkpoint. Guess we made him nervous.”
“Everyone’s nervous nowadays,” the pretty younger one echoed sympathetically. “Getting so you can’t go anywhere in your own country without some jackbooted thug from back east asking for your ID.”
“They’re not using Texans for local security?”
The older rider snorted, a sound that expressed disbelief and disgust. “Security. Don’t need no goddamned Federal security. The Rangers and sheriffs do just fine. Now they’re talkin’ about violating posse comitatus, callin’ up Texas Guard for duty up in Iowa and Nebraska, them camps, usin’ ’em against American citizens.” She patted a six-gun in a holster tied to her leg. “Reckon they might end up with a leetle uprisin’ here soon.”
Jill licked her lips and narrowed her eyes, not sure how far she could trust this outburst of local spirit. While she was dithering, Python made the decision for her.
“Is that a railroad line I see up there?” he asked, shading his face with his hand.
“You got good eyes there, sir,” declared the elder. “Union Pacific comes through here, transits Fort Worth, and there’s a spur that heads to El Paso and parts west. You thinkin’ about hoppin’ freight?”
Python shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Well,” she looked down at him speculatively, “you’re gonna want an express. Bypasses the rail yard. You’ll know it from three locomotives, y’hear? Two or one, it’s gonna stop in town. Three or more, generally speaking, gonna go through on t
he bypass.”
“Thanks,” he responded.
“Yes, thank you,” Jill seconded. “What should we call you?” she asked.
The rider shook her head. “Best don’t call me nothin’, ma’am. Best we just say so long and happy trails.”
The younger woman burst out laughing, and Jill did too. “You didn’t really just say that, did you, mama?” she guffawed.
Her mother’s eyes twinkled. “Just a bit of fun. You folks take care now.” She clucked her horse into a trot, and her daughter did the same, waving over her shoulder.
“You know, people like that give me hope we’ll come through this all right,” Jill said.
“Yeah,” Python agreed. “Would be nice to have a place to call our own…you know, ride horses and stuff.”
Jill turned to Python in surprise. “I didn’t know you rode.”
“I don’t, but I can learn.”
Impulsively Jill hugged him. “Yes, sir, you can.” A kiss from her lit up his face. “Come on. Let’s see if we can find an express train to hop.”
Reaper's Run - Plague Wars Series Book 1 Page 28
