Gathering Home

by JEFF MOTES

  “It’s not true, Mr. Hickman!” I exclaim.

  Will’s eyes are darting between Mr. Wright and Mr. Hickman, his carbine remaining aimed at Mr. Wright.

  I sense Will’s struggle and let him know, “Will, Mr. Hickman is a good man.”

  “Are you Will Carter?” Mr. Hickman asks.

  Still looking at Mr. Wright, Will answers, “Yes sir. I am. John Carter is my father.”

  Mr. Hickman raises his rifle, aiming it at Mr. Wright.

  “Jimmy, let Lizzy go, or by God, if Will doesn’t shoot you, I will!”

  Mrs. Lynn and Amy are now crying loudly.

  “Tom, please don’t do it!” Mrs. Lynn pleads.

  “Dad, let Lizzy go!”

  The turn of events has completely caught Mr. Wright off guard. He keeps turning me from facing Will to facing Mr. Hickman. Either Will or Mr. Hickman is going to shoot. I brace myself.

  The pressure is too great for Mr. Wright. He lowers the pistol and lets me go.

  I run to Will, but he pushes me behind him with one arm while keeping the carbine trained on Mr. Wright.

  I look at him inquiringly. “Will?” He doesn’t answer me.

  Mr. Hickman has lowered his rifle, yet Will hasn’t.

  “Mr. Wright,” Will commands, “drop the pistol. Do it now!” The pistol falls to the floor. “Now, take the other pistol out of your pocket and drop it to the floor.”

  Mr. Wright complies. Will still hasn’t lowered his carbine.

  “Will,” Mr. Hickman says, “it’s over. You can lower your rifle.”

  “Not yet,” Will replies. “Mr. Wright, turn your pockets inside out.” Mr. Wright complies again, and several sets of keys fall to the floor. “Down the hall to the room, you know which one. Do something stupid and I will kill you.”

  Mr. Wright shuffles down the hall, Will right behind him, and something inside urges me to follow. When Mr. Wright pauses at the door, Will shoves him in.

  “Mr. Wright, who did you kill outside?”

  Mr. Wright makes no response.

  “Answer me!”

  “James Harris,” Mr. Wright says in a low voice.

  “You bastard!” Will screams. He twists his carbine around and smashes the buttstock into Mr. Wright’s face. Mr. Wright drops to the floor, and Will is on top of him, screaming and smashing him. “You bastard!”

  I grip Will’s arm. He looks at me, tears flowing down his cheeks. “For Amy’s sake,” I say. “Please stop.”

  He gets up and walks out the door, waits for me to exit, then locks the padlock. Leaning on my shoulder, he sobs.

  Chapter 55

  Will

  Fleeing

  Day 13

  When I get myself together, Lizzy and I go back into the living room. My emotions are conflicted as I come to grips with the death of my new friend.

  “We need to go,” I urge.

  “Yes, we do,” Mr. Hickman agrees.

  “Mrs. Wright, you and Amy are welcome to come with us,” I offer, “but we have to go now.”

  “What about Jimmy?” Mrs. Wright asks.

  “He’s not welcome.”

  I pick my Glock up from the floor and pull the slide back. The chamber and magazine are both empty. I pull my spare magazine from my pocket, insert it, and load a round into the chamber. This must be what Mr. Wright used to kill Mr. James. Coldness consumes me again, and I consider going back down the hall but catch a glimpse of Amy’s tear swollen eyes and holster my pistol. I pick up the keys and the Hi-Point pistol from the floor. I spy my NVD on a side table. The battery is dead. I place it in my pack and shoulder the bag.

  “I can’t leave Jimmy like this,” Mrs. Wright sobs. “He’s still my husband. He’s just sick. Amy, go with them.”

  Amy hugs her mother close. “Mom, I love you, and I love Dad, too.”

  “I know you do, honey. Just go. When your dad is doing better, we’ll come for you.”

  “Amy, you need to pack your things quickly. Only clothes. We have to hurry. Lizzy, help her while I get the truck running.”

  “All right, Will,” Lizzy says. She drops her pack and sets her shotgun against the wall. Taking Amy by the hand, they hurry up the stairs.

  I pull the Hi-Point pistol from my waistband and check it. The chamber is empty, but ammunition is in the magazine. I set it on the side table. I look up into Mrs. Wright’s eyes. I’ve never seen such an expression of loss and hopelessness, but there is nothing else I can do for her.

  “Mrs. Wright, before we leave, I’ll give you the key to the lock.”

  Almost emotionlessly, she responds, “Thank you.”

  When I step outside, Mr. Hickman is returning from the garage with an air pump. We arrive at the truck at the same time. I set my carbine in the cab of the truck and my pack on back.

  Mr. Hickman extends his hand. “Will? Tom Hickman. It’s good to meet you, although I wish it was under different circumstances.”

  “Yes, sir,” I say, taking his hand. “I’m very glad to meet you. Thank you for helping us.”

  He unslings his rifle, leans it against the truck, and bends down to attach the hose to the valve stem. He starts pumping. This is going to take a while.

  He asks, “Do these tires hold air?”

  “They did when I brought it out here. I think Mr. Wright just let the air out. It’s also out of fuel.”

  I walk around to the rear of the truck and reach for the fuel can in the bed. Mr. James said he would bring gas. I lift the can. It’s empty.

  “I’m going to check the garage for some fuel,” I say.

  “Sure,” Mr. Hickman responds.

  Rummaging around in the garage, I pull a blue tarp away from the wall, and a single red plastic fuel can comes into view. I pick it up. Empty. I wonder where Mr. Wright put the 4-wheeler. I can get fuel from it. My thoughts are interrupted by the faint sounds of gunfire in the distance.

  Looking toward my truck, I see Mr. Hickman has stopped working the pump. Two motorcycles are racing down the highway. I hurry over to him as the motorcycles turn onto the drive. They stop not far from the truck before I can reach my carbine.

  The riders are both wearing the uniform of a Clarke County sheriff’s deputy, complete with badges and nametags on their chests. I tense. Mr. Wright wasn’t lying after all.

  The front deputy points at his nametag. “I’m Deputy Walker, and this is Deputy Jones. We’re here to pick up Will Carter and Lizzy Barnes. Our backup is on the way.” He looks over at Mr. Hickman. “Are you Mr. Wright?”

  Mr. Hickman looks confused and doesn’t respond.

  I study the men. The second guy is staring at me hard. There are several round dark spots with jagged edges on each of their shirts. Both of their arms are covered in intricate multi-colored tattoos. The guy staring at me has tattoos on the side of his neck and his forehead and a large diamond earring in his left ear. I don’t know who they are, but they aren’t deputies.

  The guy staring at me snaps, “You Will Carter?”

  “I am.”

  Immediately, his hand goes for his rifle. There is no more time to think. Ice runs through my veins, and my training kicks in. Fast, aggressive, and ruthless. The men have become metal targets to me as I draw my Glock and fire two rapid shots into the man before he can even raise the rifle. Sidestepping, I acquire the front guy in my sights. His pistol is clearing his holster when I place two rounds into his chest. I step closer and adjust my aim back to the other guy, who’s now slumping over. I put two rounds into his head then do the same for the guy in front.

  It is all over in less than ten seconds. I look around for other threats. Mr. Hickman is frozen in place, his AR still leaning against the truck. Mrs. Lynn and Amy are on the porch, their backs pressed against the wall. Lizzy is running toward me, her shotgun in hand.

  I quickly go to the truck and retrieve my two spare magazines from my pack. Mr. Hickman has come out of his stupor. His AR is now in his hand, and his eyes are wide.

  “Will, wh
at just happened?” he asks.

  “They weren’t deputies.”

  I remove the magazine from my Glock and place it in my right pocket then insert a full one, placing the remaining full magazine in my left pocket.

  Lizzy is now by my side. “Will, why is this happening to us?”

  Before I can respond, the faint sounds of rapid gunfire erupt in the distance again.

  “We’ve got to leave now,” Mr. Hickman urges. “Get in my jeep. We’ll come back for your truck later if we can. Hurry!”

  I get my pack and carbine and move to the jeep. “Lizzy, get in the jeep. I’ll get your pack and Amy’s, too.”

  I toss my pack in the jeep and run for the porch. “Mrs. Wright, you should come with us.”

  I grab Lizzy’s pack from the floor and toss it over one shoulder.

  Mrs. Wright has her hand over her heart, an expression of shock and horror on her face. “You killed those men! You shot them down in cold blood. Jimmy wasn’t lying. You are a murder!”

  There is no time to argue. When I try to give her the key, she shrinks back. I feel sorry for her, but there is nothing else I can do. I set the key on the table, then pick up the garbage bag containing Amy’s clothes.

  “Let’s go, Amy.”

  She hugs her mom and quickly follows behind me. Mr. Hickman turns south on the road, heading deeper into the southern part of the county. I check the sideview mirror. Motorcycles are approaching far in the distance.

  Chapter 56

  Jill

  Pieces of a Puzzle

  Day 13

  “The biscuits are ready,” Mr. Johnathan calls from the kitchen. “Grits and eggs, too. Let’s eat while it’s hot.”

  Everybody pulls up a chair while Mom sets food on the table. Everyone’s eyes keep drifting toward me as I prepare a plate for John. Well, this is what my mom did for my dad every morning. I liked watching her do it, and I like doing it, too. I hand him the plate with eggs, grits, and biscuits, then a jar of fig preserves and a spoon. After fixing my own plate, I sit next to him. I do miss him holding the chair out for me, but I insisted he let me do this. I notice all the stares.

  “What?” Everyone looks away and digs into their food.

  “John, this biker gang that we’ve been having trouble with,” Mike starts, “we took their guys out this morning. They have weapons but apparently no tactical training. Do you know them?”

  “Know them? How would I know them? I didn’t get here until after midnight.”

  “The reason I’m asking is the first day they showed up, they sent a guy to the checkpoint. He said they were looking for you.”

  Everybody looks at John. My thoughts grow concerned. Why are they looking for John?

  “Me? What did they want with me?”

  “I’m not sure, really. The next day, they started shooting and said they weren’t leaving without you. Sounds as if you have some enemies.”

  We are home in Repose, and we still have people wanting to kill us?

  Dear God, protect John. Protect our children. Give me strength and courage for these trying days.

  “I did shoot up some bikers, but that was yesterday morning on the way into Jackson. I don’t know these people. I mean, I know some bikers. Only the ones I know are all nice people. There is no way any of them could be involved in something like this.”

  “What about Lizzy and Will?” I ask with concern.

  “John, if you want,” Mike says, “we can put together a team to go with you to get them. I don’t want to leave ourselves vulnerable by sending out too many at one time. These scum may show back up in greater numbers. And we’ve had other troubles as well, which I’ll tell you about later.”

  “All right, Mike,” John agrees. “What if Ted and Ryan go with me? Are you guys rested enough to go?”

  “I’m good,” Ted says. “Especially if I can have one more cup of coffee.”

  Ryan says, “Me too. Let’s take my truck. Will took yours when he went looking for Lizzy.”

  “I can do without these two clowns for a little while,” Mike says. “You want to meet up at your place in an hour?”

  “Sounds great,” John responds. “I’ll be ready. But, guys, why has nobody gone to get them already?”

  “John, I told you and Jill some of it last night,” Mr. Johnathan says. “To fully understand, we’ll have to go back to the day of the EMP. I’m going to give you the short version for now. We can talk about it in more detail after you get the kids.

  “Jill, Lizzy was at Amy Wright’s house when the EMP happened. Through a series of unfortunate events, Will wasn’t able to locate Lizzy until the Tuesday after The Day. I had gotten shot the day before and was recovering, and Mike and a team went to get Sheila just north of McIntosh. She was injured and needed our immediate assistance. Will wouldn’t wait any longer, and against our instructions, he went alone to get her.”

  He stops for a moment and gazes at me. “Jill, that boy loves your daughter.” I turn away, my eyes watering. He must love her dearly to risk so much. I look at John and consider what he’s done for me. These men are cut from the same cloth.

  “It was late in the day after he got there, so he had to spend the night,” Mr. Jonathan says. “The next day, he called and told Charlie he was going to stay a few days to help the Wrights. Will called the next evening, and I talked with him. I insisted he bring Lizzy and Beverly out here the next day. Yet he resisted, saying things were okay and he had met a friend of yours, Pastor Ezell, who was setting up a community watch area. He said he was going to help the Wrights for a few more days then bring Lizzy and Beverly to Repose. You taught him to make his own decisions, and I didn’t try to place him under my authority. So I agreed, as long as he checked in each evening at the same time. Which he did until a few days ago. Sunday evening when we talked, he said he was coming home the next day.”

  He sighs. “He didn’t make it here before dark. I tried to call him but got no answer. Ted rode with me the next day to Beverly’s. She was alone at her house. The front door was shattered, glass and blood were everywhere, but she was okay. Lizzy and Will weren’t there. We brought Beverly back to Repose. That’s when the biker gang blockaded our community. You know the rest of the story already.”

  “I don’t understand why Will would make a decision like that,” John says. “He must have his reasons. He usually does. I’ll just have to find out after we get him. But I don’t understand why you lost communications. I want to leave quickly. Guys, get your gear together and meet me at my house in half an hour. I’m not waiting for a bath.”

  “Sure, John,” Ryan says. “We’ll grab my truck and our gear, then Ted and I will pick you up at your house.”

  While the guys finish making their plans, I help my mother clean the kitchen. Mom leans in close and asks, “Are you going to tell me what’s going on with you and John?”

  “I will when we have some time. Looks like John is ready to go.”

  I kiss Mom on the cheek and follow John out the door. As we walk to the ATV, Ryan asks, “Jill, you want to ride on a Harley?”

  Glancing at John, I reply, “No thanks, Ryan. I have my ride right here.” I climb on behind John. “Mom, come see me at John’s after the guys head out.”

  John pulls down the drive.

  Chapter 57

  Jill

  At John’s House

  Day 13

  After a short distance, we turn off onto another dirt drive.

  “John, this is really close to your dad’s. How far is it?”

  “Along the road, it’s about a half mile from his drive to mine. Through the woods, it’s much closer. I’ll show you that way when we get a chance.”

  There are pastures along the paved road with some cows and another with sheep. Trees line the gravel drive to John’s house. It’s set amongst some trees and can’t be seen from the paved road. As we pull up to his house, well, it’s not what I was expecting. It doesn’t appear large. Maybe slightly bigger than my home
in Jackson. I’m not disappointed, only a bit surprised. John has been a successful businessperson for a number of years. I was expecting to see one of those mansions like the ones being built in a lot of the newer subdivisions around Jackson. This isn’t anything like one of those.

  There are a number of oak and pecan trees around the house providing shade. The grass in the front is green and tall. The house is covered in a red tone brick. Kind of like an old schoolhouse, maybe a deeper burgundy. The roof is gray metal, and the trim around the eaves is white vinyl. A porch runs the full length of the front of the house. The garage is to the left with a large concrete parking area and concrete sidewalks to the front steps. Low shrubs grow around the porch and sides of the house.

  “John, this is nice. I like the shade and the color of the brick.”

  “I was hoping you wouldn’t be disappointed.”

  He drives into the front yard, right up to the steps, gets off, and retrieves his pack and carbine. After taking my hand, he walks up the short steps and across the porch to the door. Trying the door, he says, “Jill, I don’t have my keys. Wait here. I’ll be right back.” He runs down the steps and around to the side of the house. In a few minutes, he is back at the door with a key. “I’ll show you where this is kept later.” He unlocks and opens the door, picks up his pack and carbine, and steps in.

  John doesn’t hold the door open for me, which is odd. He has done those things all the way here and decides to stop when we get home? He comes back out, leaving the door open. He quickly sweeps me up in his arms, catching me by surprise.

  “Oooh…John…what are you doing?”

  He smiles widely. “I’m carrying my love over the threshold.”

  I grab the doorframe as he tries to enter. “Not until we find the preacher.” I remove my hand from the door and place it on his cheek. “I love you, John Carter. We don’t have much longer to wait.”

  He smiles and sets me down. “No, we don’t.”

  He bends down and kisses me. My heart starts racing again. Part of me wants to scream, Pick me up and carry me inside! But the greater part of me says, Wait.