Templars Quest Trilogy: The Lost Ark (Books 1-3 The Templars Quest Chronicles)

by Thomas H. Ward

  Maggie asked, “You see something, Jack?”

  Handing her the spy glasses I said, “Here take a look. There’s ten cars stopped down the road.”

  She took a look-see. “It’s probably nothing to worry about. They’d be nuts to attack us.”

  Taking back the binoculars, I took one more glance at the cars. “Yeah, your right, I worry too much.” I made a mental note that the first one was a black pickup truck and the next two trucks in line were white. I thought, I‘ll keep an eye on them just in case.

  Our convoy continued on with no problems until we reached the intersection of I-10. At this junction we would head west on I-10. Interstate I-10 runs all the way from Jacksonville to Los Angeles. This is the most southern route across the United States. It’s the route that illegals take coming from Mexico. Drug gangs, terrorists, and all kinds of dirt bags use this highway.

  Baldwin radioed, “Jack, we got an Army checkpoint up ahead. Everyone be alert and tighten up the formation.”

  I responded, “Are you sure they‘re really the Army?”

  “Yeah, I just pulled up to them. Looks like they’re 82nd Air Borne.”

  At the Interstate junction, Army security was blocking the road. They had a check point set up to help control who was moving around on the Interstate highways. This would probably be the first of many that we might run into.

  There were, by my estimate, 30 troopers who were stopping all vehicles heading north, south, east, and west. We slowly came to a stop, behind Baldwin at the checkpoint, following a guard’s order.

  Glancing around I noted at least twenty cars were being searched or waiting to be searched. There was a small fenced-in area under the bridge, which contained some men apparently being held by the Army.

  I watched Baldwin get out of his Hummer so I dismounted, leaving my M4 in the truck, and went to show the guard my letter from Captain Sessions.

  The soldiers had shoulder sleeve insignias, indicating they were from the 82nd Air Borne Division, which is based at Fort Bragg, North Carolina. A Sergeant asked Baldwin where we were going. He also wanted to know what we doing with Military Humvees.

  The U.S. Special Forces are trying to clean up the crime and terrorist activities. One way to do that is to make it difficult to travel around the country freely. To stop the flow of dirt bags, gangs, and guns one needs to slowly close in on their strong-holds and then eliminate them.

  I interceded in the conversation. “Sergeant, my name is Jack Gunn. Please read this letter from Captain Sessions, who is the Army Ranger Commanding Officer at Fort Desoto.”

  The Sergeant nodded his head and opened the letter. After a few minutes he said, “The letter doesn’t state what your mission is or why you have Military equipment.”

  While we were talking, a few of his guards were walking up and down the road next to our vehicles. I noticed some of our people were taking to the troopers, but I couldn’t hear what they were talking about. Most likely they were pumping my men for information.

  I advised the Sergeant. “Our mission is classified. As for our equipment, it was provided by the Rangers at Fort Desoto.”

  “I can’t let you pass until I know where you’re going and what the hell you’re doing.”

  “Sergeant, please ask your Commanding Officer to come here so we can clear this up. I can get Captain Sessions on the horn, and they can discuss it.”

  The Sergeant sent one of his men to bring their Commanding Officer over. While waiting, the Sergeant said, “Man, you guys are loaded for bear. It looks like you’re going on a long trip.”

  I pulled out a smoke, a Winston light, and offered him one. He gladly accepted it and I lit us up. After taking a drag, I replied, “Yeah, we’re going to Arizona. That’s all I can tell you.”

  Baldwin was sitting on the bumper of the Hummer not saying a word. He was just taking it all in and letting me handle the situation. Thirty minutes went by and now all of our men had dismounted and were sitting on the side of the road, trying to keep cool.

  Maggie and Adam strolled by us walking the dogs, and the troopers stared at her. Our conversation came to an end, as the troopers goggled her swaying body. They apparently hadn’t seen a good looking chick in a while.

  Finally a Humvee pulled up and a Captain stepped out of the truck. “What seems to be the problem here, Sergeant Whitehead?” I waited for Whitehead to give his story to the Captain. I watched as he handed my letter over to him. The Captain read it. “Which of you is Jack Gunn?”

  “I am, Captain.”

  “I know Captain Sessions, we went to West Point together. How’s he doing anyway?”

  “He’s doing fine, Sir.”

  “I’ve never heard of Fort Desoto. Where the hell is that?”

  “It’s right near the Skyway Bridge, in Tampa Bay.”

  “The next time you talk to Sessions, give him regards from Captain Jim Jones. Tell him JJ said hello.”

  “I’ll do that, Captain.”

  “Which direction are you going?”

  “We’re headed to Arizona.”

  “Ok Jack, you’re free to go. A word of caution, be careful on I-10, it’s very dangerous around New Orleans. There are a lot of shitheads still out there.”

  “Roger that, Captain. Thanks a lot.”

  We mounted up and the Sergeant let us pass; half raising his hand as if to wave good-bye. As we went up the I-75 exit ramp bridge, to access I-10, I made it a point to peer back down the road. I had a good view for about a mile. I was looking for the cars that I thought were dogging us. I was surprised; there were no cars behind us. I guessed they turned off I-75 and were not on our tail after all.

  The radio crackled. “Jack, once we get past Tallahassee, I’m gonna scout up ahead for a place to camp. It’s getting late. Looking at the map, a good place might be Falling Waters State Park. You know anything about it?”

  “No. But if it has fresh water we can get cleaned up.”

  “I’ll check it out and get back to you.”

  “Roger,” I replied.

  Our big off road tires continued rumbling down the highway for another hour and a half. We did see some other cars on the road which presented us no problems. From the checkpoint I counted about 200 cars moving east. We had 35 cars pass us going west. All were in a hurry it seemed, zooming by us at more than 70 mph.

  Where these people were going, I had no idea. Perhaps they were trying to find families, friends, or just moving to a safer place. People saw our armored Humvees with the big machine guns and stayed away from us for the most part. So far we haven’t had a run-in with any dirt bags.

  We’ve been driving now about eight hours and didn’t have any encounters with Free Roamers or anyone. We did see a broken down car on the side of the road every now and then. That could mean that things were getting better, at least in Florida. I wondered what we would find as we proceeded further west.

  My radio buzzed. “Heads up, everyone.” It was Baldwin. “We just checked out the Falling Waters and it looks like a good place to camp tonight. Exit at Route 77 and head south for a mile. Then follow the signs east for about three miles to the park. Once inside follow the road straight back to the falls and you’ll see us near the lake.”

  “Ok, got it George,” I replied. We were an hour behind Captain Baldwin.

  While driving Maggie said, “Great there’s a lake. I can go swimming and clean up.”

  “Can I go swimming, Grandpa?” Adam asked.

  “We’ll see. There could be gators or water Moccasins there.”

  We were all tired and sweaty. A nice cool dip would really feel good, I thought.

  “Stop trying to scare us, Jack,” Maggie said.

  “I’m not trying to scare anyone. There has to be snakes and gators there.”

  Exiting I-10 on to Route 77, we drove south to the sign that read, ‘Falling Water State Park.’ Following the road, which wound thought the dense woods into the camp ground area we could hear the thunder of the waterfalls
ahead.

  The whole area was beautiful, with thick dense trees of all types. Of course, the jungle had almost covered the old cement road since it had not been maintained in years. Even over the noise of our motors, we could hear birds of all species chirping away.

  I noticed two RV’s, off the road, parked far back in the woods. Maggie spotted a few people along the way who ducked back into the dense forest when they saw us. Other than that, we saw no one else at the park.

  Baldwin’s truck was parked near a small lake not far from the waterfall. Pulling up, he directed each vehicle exactly how to park. He arranged the trucks into two parallel lines. One line was made up of the combat Humvees, which were located on the north side. The pickup trucks made up the second line, which parked about 100 feet from the shoreline of the lake. The lake assured us protection from the south. The east and west were all open ground which could be easily protected. The trucks were parked facing the same direction to permit us a fast escape in case we were attacked by an overwhelming force.

  We set up camp and refueled the trucks. After that, most of the men went for a swim and washed up, while some of us gathered fire wood. We built small camp fires to heat our meals and boil water.

  After eating our delicious MRE’s, it was dark so Baldwin posted two guards for the night. Adam went to sleep in the backseat of the truck. Maggie and I dragged two old rotted picnic tables close together for our sleeping arrangements.

  Adolf and Freda, who ate their MRE’s with no problem, because they smell like dog food, were tied to the tables with a long leash. If anyone or anything came around during the night the dogs would let us known.

  As I fell asleep, the frogs and crickets were really making a racket. I heard an owl hoot, over and over. It was like music to my ears. It was a beautiful night to sleep under the stars.

  Adolf and Freda’s growls woke Maggie and me up. I glanced around and saw the dogs looking at something. Grabbing my flash light, I pointed the beam to the edge of the water. My beam picked up its glowing red eyes. The gator was barely out of the water, coming over for some dog food. It was a big one, about 10 feet long. A big gator like that would make a meal of our dogs, so I put them in the truck, out of danger.

  Maggie said, “Damn gators, they’ll eat anything. Can they get us on this picnic table?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, I’m gonna sleep in the truck with the dogs.” Maggie picked her sleeping bag and headed for the truck. “Are you coming?”

  “No, I’ll stay here. I can’t sleep now. It’ll be daylight soon.” A movement caught my eye. It was the gator slowly moving towards me.

  Maggie and I go way back. We’re just good friends who trust each other. She volunteered to go on this mission because she likes adventure. She’s a damn good fighter and is pretty much fearless. Maggie can drive anything from a truck to a tractor. I recall one time we went to Ellenton to buy a tractor from Farmer Horn. Farmer Horn was a real slimy piece of crap, who lured Maggie there on the pretext that he had a tractor for sale, on the internet. His real intention was to kidnap her. He wanted to use her for breeding stock with his inbred sons. Well to make a long story short there was a gun battle with the Horn clan. It didn’t end well for Horn because Maggie shot the big pig in the eye when he grabbed her and wouldn’t let her go. That day we probably killed fifteen men from the Horn clan. That’s also the day we had a run-in with Federal Agents, who tried to take our guns. It didn’t end well for them either, but that’s another story.

  I screwed the silencer on my M4 so I wouldn’t startle our men awake. To kill a gator you need to pop him in the head, right near the ear. One shot there and he’s dead. I waited for him to come closer. The big boy was right next to the table I was standing on. I had never been this close to one before. They are frightening prehistoric creatures. While stalking you they don’t make any noise, but just keep watching for you to make the wrong move.

  He was trying to figure out how to get up to me. His head was three feet away as I aimed and squeezed the trigger. I hated to kill him, but he pressed his luck. With that big monster around we weren’t safe. I shined my light around looking for more gators, but didn’t see any.

  One of the guards heard the pop of my gun and came over to see what was going on. “Everything ok here?” Pete asked.

  Pete was second in command under Captain George Baldwin. He was one of the most experienced warriors. The other Templars respect him, and follow every order to the letter. Pete looks like a normal lanky guy, standing over six feet tall, but he’s fast and strong. He’s a lean mean fighting machine.

  “Yeah, I just killed a gator that got too close.”

  He walked over to it and kicked it. “That’s a big one alright.”

  “Have you seen anything tonight?” I asked.

  “There was a truck that came in about an hour ago. That’s it.”

  “Where’s it at now?”

  “About half a mile down the road, parked under a willow tree.”

  “Did anyone get out?”

  “Yeah, a guy came walking over and asked me what the Army was doing here. I told him we were just camping for the night. He just turned around and left without saying a word. I kept an eye on him until he got back in his truck.”

  I nodded my head. “You see anyone else?”

  “Nope.”

  “It’ll be daylight soon. I’m gonna start a fire and make some breakfast.”

  “Yeah, it’s almost 5 am. I gotta wake up my men.”

  INDIANOLA

  April 24th, 2026

  After eating breakfast, I pulled out the map. As I was studying it, Captain Baldwin sat down next to me at the picnic table. “Good morning, Jack. I’d like to get an early start today.”

  “Morning, George. Yeah, I agree.”

  Baldwin pointed at the map. “I was looking at the map and found a shortcut. If we pick up Route 98 out of Mobile, it will cut off some time. We can take 98 all the way to Hattiesburg and then pick up Route 49 there. It could save us about two hours.”

  Once we left Florida our trip would take us through the southern tip of Alabama and across the State of Mississippi, where we would pick up Route 82 right outside of Greenville, at Indianola. Then we would cross the Mississippi River using the bridge on Route 82. I hoped the bridge was still intact. That would take us into Arkansas. We’d drive across the southern part of the state to the little city of Texarkana, located on the border of Texas.

  I followed George’s finger on the map. He was right, taking Route 98 was a good short cut. “Ok, George that looks good to me. We’ll take 98 to Route 49.”

  We had four cities, of considerable size, to go through which was Mobile, Hattiesburg, Jackson, and Wichita Falls in Texas. There were also a lot of small towns along the way while going through good-old-boy country.

  Baldwin said, “I’d like to make it to Greenville today, and cross the Mississippi before dark.”

  Checking the time it was 6 am and the sun was coming up. “Ok, that sounds like a plan. I’ll get Maggie and Adam ready to roll out by 6:30.”

  “Ok, 6:30 we move out.” Baldwin went to advise his men to pack up.

  Maggie and Adam were already set to go. As Maggie was getting in the driver’s seat I told her, “I’ll drive first today. We’ll switch every two or three hours.”

  “Ok, sounds good to me,” Maggie replied.

  Adam asked, “Can I drive?”

  “Maybe, when we’re out in the wide open spaces of New Mexico,” I told him.

  Since Adam was a big kid for his age, and could reach the pedals, I had been teaching him to drive just in case there was a problem. I have to admit, he’s a pretty good driver, but needs a lot more experience.

  I commented, “Adam, would you mind riding in Pete’s Humvee today.”

  “Ok, if you want me to.”

  “We’re going into unknown territory and if any shooting starts, you’ll be safer in the bullet proof Hummer.”

  “O
k. I think it’ll be fun.” Adam ran over to Pete’s Hummer which was right in front of us. I watched him climb in.

  Maggie said, “Well, it’s just you and me, Grandpa.”

  “Yeah, just you, me, and the dogs,” I said, with a chuckle.

  Our little convoy started to pull out of Water Fall State Park. As we rolled past the willow tree, I looked at the truck parked there. It was a black pickup, just like the one I saw dogging us yesterday. I wasn’t sure if it was the same one or not, but my sixth sense told me something wasn’t right. I gawked at the driver sitting behind the wheel, but couldn’t make out his face because of the dark shadows created by the willow tree.

  I said, “Maggie, I think that’s the same black truck we saw yesterday.”

  Maggie leaned over, close to me, putting her hand on my leg to look out my window. “Yeah, it might be the same one.”

  I pushed her back to her side so I could drive. Maggie gave a giggle because she was teasing me on purpose. “Stay on your side of the truck, hot pants,” I joked.

  “That was an old Chevy. It had spotlight on the driver’s side,” Maggie said.

  “Good eyes, Maggie. I didn’t see the spotlight.”

  We were back on I-10 as I shifted the truck into high gear reaching our standard cruising speed of 45 mph.

  I asked, “Maggie, how come you didn’t wanna ride with Baldwin?”

  “He’s kinda weird. I gave him every chance, if you know what I mean, to start something, but he didn’t do anything.”

  I thought about this for a moment. “Maybe he can’t do anything.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, maybe he was injured in combat while fighting ISIS. Maybe he can’t do anything.”

  “That’s terrible. I never thought of that.”

  “Yeah, maybe he can’t do anything sexual, for some reason, but just desires having a woman to talk to.”