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

by Thomas H. Ward

  “You might be right. Now I feel bad that I didn’t ride with him.”

  Baldwin came on the radio. “I-10 is clear going through Mobile.”

  Pete replied, “Roger that, Boss. We’re right behind you.”

  Mobile looked like a war zone. All along Interstate 10 there were burned up cars and trucks. Every now and then we’d see a body or two on the side of the road. Maggie was keeping her eyes peeled for trouble. I had to watch the road carefully, looking for debris and junk on the road. I was weaving around a lot of metal and glass to keep from getting a flat tire. From the Interstate we observed buildings burning and heard some gun fire in the distance. I wanted to get out of the city as fast as possible.

  Suddenly, two cars entered the freeway, from the on ramp, on our right side. One pulled up, within a few feet, next to us. Maggie looked out her window at them. She yelled, “They got guns! They’re telling us to pull over!”

  “We’re not pulling over. Shoot their tires first and then the cars,” I told her.

  Maggie racked her M4, leaned out the window, and fired a few bursts at the closest car. “I blew out their tires!” she yelled.

  “Good shooting.”

  I looked at the car as it weaved to the right, and then turned towards us. It was going to ram us. I punched the gas while swerving to my left. The car still hit our right-rear fender spinning us slightly sideways to the right. The tires squealed as our truck pitched back to the left. I punched the gas, and counter-steered to keep from losing control. We were on two wheels for a second, and on the verge of rolling over. I held my breath as our truck bounced back onto all four wheels, wobbling back and forth, as we sped away.

  Glancing in the mirror, I saw the attacking car roll to the left side of the road, smashing into the concrete barrier, coming to an abrupt stop. The other car followed it going right in between our truck and the truck behind us in the convoy. They just missed colliding with each other. The second attacking car also collided with the barrier and the other car.

  The radio crackled and Pete yelled, “Jeff, blast those assholes!”

  Jeff was in the last combat Humvee, at the end of the convoy. He’s the third in command of the modern Templar Knights. Jeff is a dead shot with any weapon. He’s the best shooter with the big fifty gun.

  All the vehicles in our convoy had made it past the attacking cars. Pete’s brake lights came on and the whole convoy came to a screeching stop. We watched Jeff’s machine gun open fire on the cars. Their gas tanks exploded and the cars started on fire. No one escaped the deadly rounds from the fifty caliber machine gun. A few men made it out of the flames; but were easily mowed down. Eliminating those dirt bags was easy work for Jeff. The battle was over in a few minutes. It was amazing how quickly the cars turned into huge fireballs spewing black smoke high in the air.

  Sitting there watching the action, my hands and feet started to shake. I have to admit, almost flipping over got my adrenaline going. I lit a smoke to relax.

  We continued on our way until reaching Route 98. Captain Baldwin was standing in the road waiting for us. We all needed a break and so did the dogs. Maggie let them out to do their business.

  Jeff strolled up to me and shook my hand. “Hey, good driving. I thought for sure you were gonna roll.”

  “Yeah, it was a close one.” We examined the damage done to my truck from the collision. The right-rear fender and quarter panel had a big dent, but it wasn’t anything serious.

  Baldwin called everyone over to his truck. All the drivers huddled around as he leaned on the hood of his Hummer and glanced around at everyone. “What happened back there?”

  Pete replied, “Two cars tried to stop our convoy. Jeff blasted them to hell.”

  Baldwin nodded his head like it was no big deal and pulled out his map. “Route 98 is gonna be a crude road compared to the Interstate. It’s an old country road probably built back in 1920.

  “There are a few small towns along the way to Hattiesburg. We’ll by-pass Hattiesburg using I-59 and pick up Route 49. I want everyone to stay close, within a few car lengths. That way no vehicles can cut into our convoy, like what just happened. Jeff, since you’re the rear guard, don’t let anyone pass you. Any questions?”

  I asked, “Do you think we’ll make it to the Mississippi today?”

  “I don’t think so, but we’ll try. If there’s nothing else, take a ten minute break and then get ready to move out.”

  Maggie gave the dogs some water while I handed out oranges from our farm, to those who wanted one. Maggie commented, “I’m glad you were driving back there. That was pretty scary when we almost rolled over.”

  “Thanks, Maggie. You drive for a while. I need a break.”

  She laughed and punched my arm. “Ok, I’ll drive.”

  I saw Pete and Adam talking to each other and sharing a bottle of water. That was a good sign because Adam doesn’t usually spend a lot of time talking to the Warriors. I think he feels intimidated because of his young age. Of course, the Warriors intimidate almost any person.

  We made it past Hattiesburg using the bypass and picked up Route 49 taking us into Jackson, Mississippi. We didn’t encounter any problems. Some people we passed, shouted greetings or waved as we drove by. Continuing down Route 49, we reached the small hick town of Indianola, Mississippi. It’s about 30 miles from Greenville and Mississippi River. This is the junction where we pick up Route 82.

  A street sign greeted us:

  ‘WELCOME TO INDIANOLA -

  HOME OF BB KING, KING OF THE BLUES’

  It was getting dark when we arrived in Indianola, which was a typical small town that reminded me of the old days. On the main drag was one general store, one restaurant, a couple of closed gas stations, two churches, and a bunch of little stores that for the most part were closed. It was pretty much a ghost town. There were a few people walking around who greeted us with a wave. They seemed down-right friendly because they waved and said hello while we slowly drove past them. I had a good feeling about this place. It was peaceful and quaint.

  Indianola is located at the junction of U.S. Routes 82 and 49W. The town was originally named "Indian Bayou" in 1882 because the site along the river bank was formerly inhabited by a Choctaw Indians. Between 1882 and 1886, the town's name was changed three times before finally becoming "Indianola," in honor of an Indian princess named "Ola." The town developed and grew at this site due to the location of a lumber mill located on the Indian Bayou.

  The city is 8.7 square miles (22 km2) which includes the bayou. Indian Bayou Waterway runs the length of the city and beyond. The topography of Indianola is mostly flat.

  Captain Baldwin stopped our convoy in front of the little town square. To my surprise, the American Flag was flying, high on a pole, in the public park. That was a good sign for sure. After we dismounted, George told everyone that it was best to stop here for the night. George posted sentries and had trucks lined up in two rows.

  Before we could unpack our gear, an elderly man and woman approached us. I eyed them up right away. They didn’t have any weapons that I could see. Just the same, I kept my M4 at low ready position.

  “Howdy friends,” the man said, as he stuck out his hand.

  The man was dressed in a plaid shirt with blue jeans, which were held up with suspenders, and a plantation type straw hat. The lady had on a flowery dress with a sun bonnet, which made her look like an old fashioned country housewife.

  Maggie was holding onto our dogs who keenly looked at the strangers, but didn’t growl at them. The dogs normally have a sense of who’s friendly and who’s not.

  Maggie and I stepped over to them and we shook hands. “Hello, I’m Jack, and this is Maggie.”

  The man tipped his hat and he pulled a toothpick out of his mouth. “Hello Maggie, Jack. My name is David Ragsdale, and this here’s my wife Alice. I’m the Mayor of Indianola.” He spoke in a typical southern accent.

  By this time more city people were coming out of the stores. They st
rolled over to look at our convoy and combat Humvees. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. and Mrs. Ragsdale.”

  “Oh, just call me Mayor, like everybody does.”

  About thirty people had gathered behind the Mayor, but some just wandered around looking at our trucks. I noticed a few carried shotguns or lever action rifles.

  Looking me in the eyes, the Mayor commented, “I don’t mean to be nosey, but what brings y’all to our small town?”

  “We’re just staying for the night, if you don’t mind Mayor.”

  “Heck no, we don’t mind. It’s great having you Army guys here. We just don’t want any trouble.”

  “We aren’t gonna make any trouble. I can promise you that.”

  Captain Baldwin came moseying over. “Who’s this guy?”

  “This is David Ragsdale, the Mayor of Indianola, and this is his wife, Alice. Mayor, meet Captain Baldwin the commander of our troops.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Captain.”

  Baldwin responded in the same manner. He was going to ask something when Ragsdale interrupted. “If he’s the Commander, what are y’all, Jack?”

  “I’m the head of this expedition.”

  “Say, where y’all from, anyway?”

  “We’re from Tampa, Florida.”

  Ragsdale stuck the toothpick back in his mouth and nodded his head. “Then y’all are Florida Crackers,” he said, with a grin.

  Baldwin asked, “Mr. Mayor, do you have any hostiles around here? You know, people who don’t like the military?”

  “Of course not. We’re all Americans here and loyal to the military.”

  “That’s great. Do you mind if we make a few campfires in your park?”

  “Nope, go right ahead.”

  “Ok, thank you, sir. If you’ll excuse me, I gotta tend to my troops.” They shook hands and Baldwin left to direct setting up camp.

  “Miss Maggie, how about if Alice takes you on a tour of our nice little city,” Ragsdale said.

  Maggie looked at me. I gave a subtle nod that it was ok. “Alright let’s go, Alice,” Maggie said. They walked away, arm in arm, like two women going shopping, with the dogs by Maggie’s side.

  Mayor Ragsdale pulled out a bag of chewing tobacco. Putting a handful into his mouth he said, “Glad she’s gone. I needed a chew. My wife don’t like chewin’ or smokin’.” He held the bag out towards me. “Y’all like some?”

  “No thanks, Mayor. I got a smoke here.” I lit up and we both laughed.

  “Hey, where y’all headed to?” Ragsdale let out a big spit and wiped his chin off on his brown stained sleeve.

  Taking a drag, I held it in a little while and let the smoke out slowly while replying. “We’re … going to … Arizona.”

  “Arizona. Why y’all going there?”

  “We’re on a secret mission.”

  Ragsdale let out another big spit on the ground. “What kinda secret mission?”

  I pulled out the letter from Captain Sessions and handed to him. “Here, read this. If I tell you what the mission is, then it wouldn’t be a secret.”

  The Mayor read the letter and gave it back to me. “I see, but can’t you give me some kinda hint.”

  Thinking about this for a minute, I stomped my butt into the ground, putting it out. “Do you believe in God?”

  “I’m a born-again Baptist and proud of it.”

  “That’s great, but all I can tell you is we’re on a mission for God.”

  “For God? Now y’all really got me curious.”

  “Mayor, that’s all I can tell you.”

  “What’s all you can tell him?” Baldwin asked, walking up behind me.

  I turned to face him. “I just told him we’re on a mission for God.”

  “Yeah, that’s right Mayor,” Captain Baldwin said.

  Ragsdale peered at Baldwin, looking him up and down. “Y’all don’t look like normal Army to me. Whatcha carry that big pig-sticker for?”

  “You mean this sword.” Baldwin touched the handle. “It’s to scare our enemies.”

  “Pray tell me, who are your enemies?”

  “Primarily Islamic terrorists like ISIS and al-Qaida. Basically anyone who breaks the law and doesn’t honor the Constitution are also our enemies.”

  Ragsdale nodded his head. “Yep, there’s a lot of evil people out there. We’re kinda off the beaten path here, so no one bothers us much.”

  Changing the subject, I asked Ragsdale, “What’s up ahead at the Greenville Bridge.”

  “Y’all planning on going over that bridge are ya?”

  “Yeah, we gotta cross the river somehow.”

  The Mayor spit out some more slimy tobacco laced saliva. He sat down on the bench next to us, as if thinking for a minute. “If you boys are going to the bridge, y’all better be careful.”

  “Oh, why’s that?” Baldwin asked.

  “The bridge is guarded by crooks. Bandits that will rob and kill ya. I know many a person that went there and never came back. That’s all I can tell y’all.”

  “So, you’ve never been there.”

  “Never been there, and don’t wanna go there. Billy Bob went there a few times.”

  “Who’s Billy Bob?” I asked.

  “That’s my boy. That’s him over there by the truck, with the blue shirt on.”

  “Could we ask him a few questions about the bridge.”

  “Sure enough.” Ragsdale shouted out. “Billy Bob, get over here!”

  Billy Bob came jogging over. “What you need, Daddy?” he said, with a smile.

  Billy Bob was a big boy, taller than me, but he wasn’t a boy. He appeared to be in his early thirties. He dressed just like his Daddy, including the plantation straw hat. He had dark skin, high cheek bones, and black colored eyes, but his hair was light brown.

  “Billy Bob, meet Jack, and Captain Baldwin. Billy Bob will answer any questions you got about the Greenville Bridge. I’ll see y’all later, I gotta tend to something.” Ragsdale slowly strolled away in the direction his wife went.

  Baldwin and I shook Billy Bob’s big hand. I noticed he had a strong vise-like grip as he unintentionally crushed my hand. I said, “We’re gonna cross the bridge tomorrow and wanna know if we can expect any trouble.”

  Billy said, “Yeah, if you go there it’ll be trouble alright.”

  “Why’s that, Billy Bob?” Baldwin asked.

  Billy knelt down on one knee and said, “Where’s why.” He proceeded to draw a crude map on the dirt sidewalk. “Y’all gotta take 82 through Greenville to get to the bridge. It’s a bigger city than Indianola is, so you might run into some unfriendly people along the way.”

  Billy drew the bridge and made a few X’s in the dirt. Pointing at the X’s he said, “There are usually four guards at a road block. The guards charge a fee to get across the bridge.”

  “What kinda fee?” I asked.

  “I heard about a thousand dollars per car. But I don’t know for sure.”

  “What’s on the other side of the bridge?” Baldwin asked.

  “I got no idea,” Billy Bob replied, while looking at us. “Where are y’all headed to?”

  Baldwin and I glanced at each other. We both knew this crossing could be trouble. We had done some research on the Greenville Bridge. It’s is a big four-lane bridge. When built in 2010 it was the fourth longest cable-stayed constructed bridge in the United States, running 4.1 miles long.

  Baldwin said, “Our next stop is the Comanche Nation, in Lawton, Oklahoma.”

  Billy Bob touched Baldwin’s arm. “Would y’all let me tag along?”

  I said, “Sorry Billy, but I don’t think so. It could be a dangerous trip.”

  “Come on, I’ll do whatever you want. I gotta get out of this stinking town.”

  “What about your Mom and Dad?”

  “They’re driving me crazy. My Daddy is the big boss around here. He’s a slave driver making me work my ass off. Always pushing me to get married, and have kids. I don’t wanna get
married. I wanna see the world.”

  I stood there not knowing what to say to Billy because he seemed kind of childish. Baldwin asked, “Billy, you know how to use a gun like this?” He held up his M4 in front of Billy’s face.

  “I never used one like that, but I’m a good shot and a fast learner. I can shoot the eye out of a possum at fifty yards.”

  “What do you think, Jack?”

  Peering into Baldwin’s face and then at Billy, I said, “To tell you the truth, you’re too green. I don’t wanna be responsible for you.”

  “What if I can help you cross the bridge? Would you let me come along then?”

  “How you gonna do that?” Baldwin asked.

  “A few of the guards are friends of mine. I could help pave the way. You know, make it easier to get by them.”

  While I was thinking about his proposal Maggie came jogging up with the dogs. Adolf and Freda went right up to Billy and smelled him. He got down on one knee and both dogs licked his face. Dogs are good judges of a person’s character and they sure liked Billy.

  I said, “Maggie, this is Billy Bob, the Mayor’s son.”

  Maggie stared at him and said, “Hi, Billy Bob.”

  Billy stood up, took off his hat, and bowed. “Pleasure to meet you, Ma’am.”

  “Billy Bob, excuse us for a minute. I need to talk to Jack and George in private.” Maggie grabbed us both by the arm, dragging us about twenty feet away.

  “Ok, what’s up, Maggie?” I asked.

  Maggie whispered, “It’s here.”

  “What’s here?”

  “That black truck, you dummy. I saw it parked on a side street a few blocks away.”

  “What black truck you talking about?” Baldwin asked.

  “I didn’t tell you because I wasn’t sure, but now I’m sure. Someone has been following us ever since Florida,” I replied.

  George scratched his chin and was thinking. I could almost see smoke coming out of his ears. “What do you wanna do about it?”

  “Nothing, right now. We’ll think about it, after we get across the river.”

  Maggie grabbed me by the arm again. “That’s not all I got to tell you. This Mayor and his wife, Alice, are not the nice people they make out to be.”