Forsaken World (Book 4): Dark Crossing

by Watson, Thomas A.

  Making sure Mary and Sandy were on their horses, Johnathan led them across the creek and out of the trees before the stinkers got close. Again, the uneasiness filled him as he led them east. Looking at the vastness of the delta around him, Johnathan looked at the overgrown fields. They hadn’t passed but a few houses and he had wanted to slip by unnoticed, but when you could see and be seen from miles, that was hard. Glancing up at the clear starlit sky, Johnathan almost wished a thunderstorm would roll in.

  When Johnathan headed north, Sandy almost sighed with relief, but then realized they hadn’t crossed I 55 yet. Surveying ahead, she could see lines of big irrigation ditches running straight across the land. “Yeah, those were made. A river can’t run straight, just like a deer can’t,” Sandy mumbled.

  Hearing the clack of horse hooves, Sandy jerked her head forward and saw Johnathan on a blacktop road, going over the row of irrigation ditches. “I thought this was a dirt road,” Sandy said, guiding her horse to the side of the road.

  “So did I,” Mary whispered behind her.

  Seeing Johnathan pulling his bow back, Sandy started to worry they hadn’t studied the map as well as they thought they had. Looking ahead when Johnathan released an arrow, Sandy watched a stinker drop, but it had friends. Pulling her bow out, Sandy moved up beside Johnathan, pulling back her bow.

  They both released together, dropping the stinkers. “A double,” Johnathan noted, pulling another arrow.

  “If we hadn’t done that, like, a thousand times, I would be impressed,” Sandy claimed, releasing another arrow.

  Halfway across and sixteen stinkers later, “Want to use the guns?” Sandy asked, releasing another arrow.

  “No, they are spaced out enough and because my wife is a genius, we don’t have to get the arrows,” Johnathan answered, releasing an arrow.

  “Johnathan, we thought this road was dirt,” Sandy admitted shamefully.

  “No, it’s marked correctly on the map. You’re thinking about the crossing we take after this one,” Johnathan explained, taking another stinker. When they cleared the ditches that were bigger than many rivers they had crossed, Johnathan led them out into a field on the north side of the road.

  “That road heads east,” Sandy said, following him.

  “Yeah, and it’s full of stinkers,” Johnathan replied, pulling away from her.

  Glancing at her watch, Sandy groaned to see it was just after four. She looked to the eastern horizon. “Will you come up just a little later today?” she begged the sun.

  The bark of gunfire to the east made Sandy jerk up her rifle and then she realized it was far off. Lowering her rifle, she saw Johnathan wave them up. Kicking their horses, they pulled up behind him.

  “That was near Steele. We are making our turn for the bridge now, so keep your eyes peeled,” Johnathan told them. “Put your bows away. Any stinkers get close, use your .22 pistol, but keep your AR ready.”

  Both nodded as more gunfire sounded from Steele and Johnathan headed northeast toward the bridge. Scanning around, Sandy could see shadowy forms of stinkers, but they were far off and seemed to be heading for the gunfire. “Yes, be good and see what they are doing,” Sandy praised, glancing at the horizon.

  Crossing through another irrigation ditch, Sandy was tired of the things as much as the horses were. Both dogs were covered in mud as Sandy looked to the east and felt panic, seeing the sky getting brighter. Not even bothering to look at her watch, Sandy scanned around as the ‘darkest before dawn’ took effect, and they slowly lost the star and moonlight.

  It was very easy to spot drainage ditches because there were ribbons of trees that ran along them. Trying to remain calm, Sandy breathed in her nose and out her mouth slowly and the gunfire from Steele suddenly stopped.

  Turning to the southeast toward Steele, Sandy could still see forms moving away from them. Looking to the east, Sandy smiled at seeing the interstate in the distance. Then the smile fell off, realizing stinkers would be on it and they would be crossing it then.

  “We are going to have to move fast from I 55 to I 155,” Sandy mumbled to herself, surveying the area and making sure it matched her memory of the map, going over the lay of the land.

  As the pink light started filling the horizon, Sandy turned her cap around with the bill facing forward and saw Johnathan do the same. Seeing trees ahead as dawn broke over the land, a part of Sandy groaned and hoped this ditch wasn’t as deep as the last one.

  Watching Johnathan enter the trees and his horses didn’t start down an embankment, Sandy smiled that more mud wasn’t called for yet. Losing sight of Johnathan for a second when the tree branches flipped back after the pack horses passed, Sandy guided her horse and moved her face back, so the branches wouldn’t hit her.

  ‘Boom!’ sounded right in front of her and she heard the rapid cough of Johnathan’s AR. Kicking her horse to go, she saw Johnathan coming back through the trees. “Get back!” he yelled.

  Pulling her reins back and putting her horse in reverse, Sandy heard things whizzing past her and far-off soft cracks, watching the limbs falling off around her. Backing out of the trees and hearing faint far-off ‘pops’ past the trees intensify, Sandy saw Johnathan shooting through the trees. Raising her rifle, Sandy shot through the trees like Johnathan was.

  Changing her magazine, Sandy heard a crash and turned to see Johnathan on the ground. “Johnathan!” she cried out, jumping off her horse.

  Johnathan pulled up to his knees, taking off the tool belt. “Shoot, Sandy!” he gasped, dropping his tool belt and taking off his shirt.

  Sandy turned and heard things hitting the trees, but couldn’t see past the leaves. “What is that?” she asked.

  “Sandy, they are shooting at us with suppressors,” Johnathan coughed, and she heard a gurgle in his voice. When she saw a bullet hit a tree, Sandy could tell what direction it was coming from and aimed, squeezing the trigger as fast as she could.

  Changing her second magazine, Mary saw Sandy shooting more to the east. Adjusting her aim, Mary started spraying bullets.

  The angry whizzing died down to nothing as Sandy changed magazines and turned around. “No!” she yelled, dropping down as Johnathan spread a plastic bag over the side of his chest. Seeing Johnathan reaching for a roll of duct tape, Sandy grabbed it, tearing off a piece.

  She looked at the huge hole beside Johnathan’s nipple as frothy blood settled under the plastic. “We have to get you somewhere we can defend,” Sandy barked, grabbing him under the shoulders.

  “Sandy!” Johnathan snapped, and coughed up blood. He handed her his tool belt, taking two magazines for the AR and his pistol out. “Go, I’ll hold them as long as I can.”

  “No!” Sandy cried.

  “Sandy, I’m dead. Even if I was on an operating table, I’m dead. They know where you’re going to go,” Johnathan explained, pulling his body toward the trees.

  Picking up the tool belt and Johnathan’s messenger bag, Sandy looked down and pulled the hand grenade out of the tool belt. She walked over, handing it to Johnathan. “Here,” she said, and when Johnathan turned to look at her, his face was pasty white.

  “You need it,” Johnathan wheezed.

  “Take it, or I stay with you,” Sandy told him with tears running down her face.

  Reaching out, Johnathan took the grenade. “Go,” he mouthed.

  Running back, she saw Mary climbing back on her horse with Johnathan’s backpack.

  Grabbing the reins of Johnathan’s horse, Sandy climbed on hers while giving Johnathan a last look. She saw Johnathan taking his suppressor off his AR. “I love you,” Sandy said, kicking her horse as bullets started striking trees again.

  With Mary behind her, Sandy kicked her horse into a gallop, churning up the dirt. Behind her, she heard the roar of Johnathan’s now unsuppressed AR. Feeling Johnathan’s horse tugging against the reins she was holding, Sandy wrapped them around her saddle horn and the horse sped up.

  Keeping the trees to their side, Sandy saw
a road ahead and glanced back, seeing they were over a half a mile from where Johnathan was when his rifle roared again. Seeing Mary wearing Johnathan’s pack and her small pack on her chest, Sandy turned around and steered her horse onto the dirt road. Glancing to the field the ambushers were on, Sandy snarled because trees lined the road, blocking them from view.

  Looking ahead, she saw the interstate a mile away and now could see it was full of stinkers, but the stinkers were moving off the interstate. She could see them knocking down the fences that lined the interstate as Johnathan’s rifle roared in rapid bursts behind them and falling further back.

  When the road turned north, Sandy charged off it and into a field. Stinkers in front of her were heading to Johnathan’s timed shots. “He’s pulling stinkers, so they can’t chase us,” Sandy said tearfully.

  ***

  Pulling his body up to a tree, Johnathan looked out over the field and saw three men a hundred yards away, pointing where they’d shot him. Struggling, Johnathan turned and caught sight of Sandy and Mary turning on the road past the field and lost sight of them. “Go, baby,” Johnathan mouthed and lifted his AR up.

  Holding steady on the man in the center cradling a hunting rifle, Johnathan knew that was his killer. Squeezing the trigger, Johnathan saw the man flinch and continued firing rapidly into the other two. Seeing both drop with their buddy, Johnathan ejected the magazine after feeling the bolt lock back and slapped in a new one.

  Seeing a man run from a stand of bushes to the three, Johnathan aimed at him as another man stepped out. Squeezing the trigger, Johnathan saw the man grab his leg before dropping to the ground, and the other man darted back into the bushes.

  Hearing bullets striking around him, Johnathan struggled to hold his eyes open and saw stinkers moving off the interstate and toward the gunfire. “My ideas work, most of the time,” he wheezed, then aimed at the bushes and squeezed slow, steady shots, raking the bushes until his bolt locked back.

  Ejecting the magazine, Johnathan struggled to breathe as his own blood filled his lungs, slowly drowning him. Putting in his last magazine, Johnathan aimed at the bush and fired rapidly into it, then back at the four wounded. When his bolt locked back, Johnathan dropped the AR, struggling for a last breath.

  He coughed up mouthfuls of blood, but got his breath. Pulling the pin on the grenade, Johnathan laid down, ‘I won’t be a stinker’ he vowed, pulling his pistol beside his head as his vision started to turn dark. He was a surgeon, Johnathan knew where to aim and a muffled gunshot sounded over the field.

  Ten minutes later, a man stepped out from the trees aiming at Johnathan’s body. “I got ‘em!” the man yelled and shot Johnathan in the side of the chest twice. Two others moved toward the suppressed shots and stepped out of the trees.

  “I told you the others had run off,” one said.

  “Dave, shut up, we got one,” the first one out said.

  “We aren’t even sure this is the same group that hit Jason,” the third man said.

  “Preacher, it don’t matter. Pat, Richard, and Geoff are dead, and Wayne is going to lose that leg,” Dave said as they moved up to Johnathan.

  “Pat shot him first,” Preacher pointed out as the first man moved over beside Johnathan.

  “He’s got an AR and look, he has a suppressor he took off,” the first man cheered, and the others moved over. “I told you they had gear.”

  The others watched as the first man rolled Johnathan to get the AR from under his body. They heard a ‘kang’ and looked, but the grenade under Johnathan’s body had rolled into the thick grass at the man’s feet.

  “Wh-,” Preacher started to say when the grenade detonated. Already over the interstate, Sandy and Mary didn’t hear Johnathan’s last gift.

  Chapter 19

  Getting closer to the interstate, Sandy cursed seeing the cable dividers between the north and southbound lanes. Glancing to the north, she saw an overpass half a mile away and turned her horse. Glancing back, Sandy saw Mary right behind her and nobody following.

  Turning around, she eased her horse back to a trot, patting his neck. “Might need what you have left for later,” she whimpered and then shook her head. “No!” she snapped, hearing the rapid gunfire from Johnathan in the distance.

  “You will make it. Johnathan did what he had to, and you will accept it,” Sandy growled at herself and fought not to give in.

  “I don’t see anyone behind us,” Mary sniffled, moving up beside her and putting up her binoculars. “Want me to lead?”

  “No, we are getting across that river, even if we have to kill every fucker around here and use their bodies as a raft,” Sandy snarled. Then she saw Mary was only wearing Johnathan’s backpack. “You lose your pack?”

  “No, I tied it on my pack horse,” Mary said. “I had to get his pack, I’m sorry. Johnathan has a lot of ammo in it.”

  “Don’t be sorry, that was thinking,” Sandy replied as they started up the overpass. Looking to the north and then the east, Sandy thought she could see the Mississippi River Bridge over the trees, but she wasn’t sure. One thing she did know, the bridge was only seven miles away.

  “Mary, if we cut through the fields, it’s going to take us over two hours to reach the bridge. That dirt road to the north runs right into I 155. I say, let’s get on it and cross that damn river in an hour,” Sandy offered. “Your call.”

  “That run took a lot out of the horses,” Mary reminded Sandy, and Mary scanned all the stinkers around them. But then, noticed the stinkers were moving off the interstate toward Johnathan’s gunshots, or where they’d heard them last.

  Coming down the overpass, “I say, let’s try that road and if it’s full of stinkers, we’ll go cross-country,” Mary suggested, and Sandy nodded. “They know we are here, so we see a person, we fucking shoot. I don’t give a shit who they are.”

  “You got that shit right,” Sandy growled, cutting across the field northeast to the dirt road. Turning to Mary, Sandy saw her reloading AR magazines while she kept watch around them. Reaching down into her saddle bag, Sandy pulled out a box of 5.56. Holding the reins in her teeth, Sandy opened the box and pulled an empty magazine from the feed bag each used as a dump bag. As she pushed the bullets in, Sandy was very proud of herself that she had used the dump bag without thinking. In truth, she was flooding her mind with tasks to remain sane.

  Reaching the dirt road they headed east, and Sandy filled her last magazine. She glanced down and saw Dan struggling to keep up with the trot. He was covered in various stages of drying mud and panting hard. Glancing around, Sandy didn’t see anything close and pulled her horse to a stop.

  “What?” Mary asked when Sandy jumped off her horse.

  “Ann,” Sandy snapped, and Ann moved over while panting hard. Reaching down, Sandy grunted with picking Ann up and giving her to Mary.

  “Good idea,” Mary nodded, and she held Ann across her saddle.

  Grabbing Dan, Sandy held him with his head over her shoulder and climbed up on the horse, feeling lightheaded once she hit the saddle. Moving Dan to lay across her saddle, “Dan, stay,” Sandy commanded, kicking the horse back into a trot.

  Moving along the road, they passed a house that was under siege from stinkers. Sandy fought the urge to run over and rip the door off for the stinkers. As far as she was concerned, everyone here was guilty by proximity in Johnathan’s death. Spotting a small bridge ahead on the dirt road, Sandy slowed while patting Dan. “We need to water the horses,” Sandy said, putting on her sunglasses. “We may have to run them all three miles across the bridge.”

  Leading the horses off the road and to the small ditch, they let them drink. “Sandy, we may have to head farther into Tennessee before we get off the interstate. I think we need to save the horses for a dead run when we have no choice.”

  “How was your horse doing at a trot?” Sandy asked, pouring water from a bottle into her hand for Dan.

  Seeing Sandy watering Dan, Mary gave Ann some water. “They were doi
ng good at a trot, but galloping through that field, I almost lost a pack horse.”

  Patting the dried mud on Dan’s back, “Mary, I say let’s just trot across that bridge,” Sandy finally answered. “If we have to, use the .22s to clear a path, but I don’t want to unless we have to. We don’t want to help those following us by clearing them a path.”

  “You think they will?” Mary asked.

  Pointing ahead toward the Mississippi River, “They will until we cross that. Like Johnathan said, they know where we are going. Let’s get it the fuck out of the way,” Sandy replied in a breaking voice.

  “What about the dogs?” Mary asked. “Ann is so tired.”

  “We keep them with us as long as we can, then move through and hope they keep up until we’re clear and can carry them again,” Sandy answered, buckling Johnathan’s tool belt around her waist.

  Leading her horses back to the road, Sandy headed east. Holding her AR over Ann’s back, Mary put her sunglasses back on after wiping her eyes and followed Sandy along the road. Seeing a stinker ahead, Sandy reached under her left arm and felt both hers and Johnathan’s .22 pistols.

  Pulling hers out, Sandy pushed her horse into a trot. When the stinker was ten yards away Sandy lifted the pistol, squeezing the trigger as a muffled ‘pop’ sounded and the stinker dropped. “You hear that?” Mary asked behind her.

  “Of course, I heard it, I pulled the trigger,” Sandy huffed over her shoulder, and Mary pulled up beside her.

  “No, listen,” Mary whispered, pointing to the northwest. It was hard to hear over the thump of the horse hooves on the dirt road, but slowly, Sandy heard the sound of engines.

  “I can’t tell what they are doing, can you?” Sandy asked, holstering her pistol.

  “It sounded like they were moving away from us,” Mary answered. “I swear, when I first heard them, it sounded like the engines were coming from Caruthersville. Then they faded away. I think they were driving along the interstate, going away from us.”

  “Maybe we can get one lucky break; we’re due one,” Sandy mumbled, patting Dan.