by Bobby Akart
“Yes, of course,” replied Colton, who was willing to say anything to move out of this tense situation. “We’ll follow as instructed. It was a pleasure to meet you.” Colton attempted to extend his hand to shake Cherry’s, but the man walked away and circled his hand in the air, indicating that the escort vehicles should get moving.
Colton pulled in behind the Dodge and they rolled slowly towards town. As expected, the white pickup with two men dressed in camouflage, dark sunglasses, and backwards-turned caps leaned on the roof of the truck, with guns pointed at them.
By Colton’s calculation, it was about three or four miles through town to the bridge crossing the river. He had committed to this course of action and intended to dutifully follow their instructions. There really wasn’t a better option at this juncture.
There were things known in life, and then there was the unknown. In between, there were adventures. Colton had no illusions about this new post-apocalyptic world, but there was one thing he knew for certain—don’t think you’re on the right road just because the road is smooth.
Chapter 27
DAY SEVENTEEN
2:30 p.m., September 25
Highway 64, Main Street
Savannah, Tennessee
If nobody knew you—you were a stranger. If Alex had seen someone walking back and forth in front of their home, and she didn’t recognize them, they would immediately have fallen under her suspicion. If the person was a neighbor, she wouldn’t have given the activity a second thought, other than it might seem odd. But a stranger would stick out and draw additional scrutiny. As they drove into Savannah, Alex understood what it felt like to be a stranger—watched and scrutinized.
“Daddy, all of these businesses are being guarded by men with guns.”
“I see them,” said Colton. “They must’ve moved quickly to protect the businesses from looters. That explains why they put a call out to law enforcement and ex-military personnel. They’re in need of warm bodies to watch over things.”
Colton continued to follow the lead car while Madison and Alex took in the scenery. Except for the occasional burned-down home, the businesses remained intact and under the watchful eye of armed guards.
“Where is everybody?” asked Alex.
“Whadya mean?” replied Madison.
“I see armed guards, but I haven’t seen any people yet. Where are the kids playing or the parents walking down the street or anything?”
Another decrepit school bus of workers passed them, headed toward the quarry. The faces told the same story as the prior busload of workers—despair. Alex took the binoculars from her mother and started to scan the side streets to look for signs of life.
Nothing.
Highway 64 was set to become Savannah’s Main Street when another concrete barricaded roadblock appeared and the lead vehicle continued south instead of west toward the river. The Rymans were less than a mile from the bridge that would take them to Shiloh.
“Colton?” asked a worried Madison.
“I don’t know, Maddie,” replied Colton.
Alex noticed more faces—withdrawn, sullen, and anguished. Eyes peered through curtained windows. The locals poked their heads around the corners of buildings. Children hid behind their mother’s skirts as they were hurried out of sight. They were frightened. They were all women and children.
“Look at the old cars,” said Colton. “You’d think this was an antique car show at the Tennessee Fairgrounds. Look, Maddie, there’s a ’69 GTO like mine.”
“I saw it, but Colton,” started Madison, “most of these cars have out-of-state tags. I’ve seen Mississippi, Alabama, and Kentucky.”
“Okay, but we have Arkansas tags,” said Colton. “Maybe folks responded to the radio broadcast. You saw the hospital back there. It appeared there were folks lined up out the front door, waiting to get in.”
Alex continued to observe her surroundings. She felt like something was out of sorts.
“Look!” exclaimed Alex. “There, to the left. Do you see those boys running?”
As they slowly drove down Water Street, several teenage boys were shadowing their movement. They would scamper from building to building, using trees and shrubs as cover along the way.
“Curiosity, I guess,” replied Colton.
Alex tried to count them—five, six, maybe seven. They were so fast and seemed to disappear so easily. Why are they following us?
“Daddy, something’s not right here. I can feel it. Mom?”
“Colton, I don’t know,” started Madison, who suddenly grabbed the dashboard with both hands, bracing for the impact. “Look out!”
The blue Dodge sedan made a sudden swerve to the right and then quickly swung back to the left, effectively blocking both lanes in an attempt to force the Wagoneer into the Hardin County Sheriff’s Department. The driver and the passenger jumped out of their vehicle with their guns drawn.
At that moment, the world began to move in slow motion for the Rymans—everything except for Colton’s brain, that was. In that moment, the family could sense the mortal danger they were in.
Colton didn’t hesitate. He jammed on the brakes, throwing everyone forward. He immediately checked the rearview mirror. Alex glanced backward and saw the grill of the pickup truck filling her view.
“Daddy!” screamed Alex. “What’s happening?”
“Colton?”
Colton quickly turned to look at them and said, “I love you.”
“What are you doing?” begged Madison.
He opened the door and began to leave, grabbing Alex’s iPhone as he went. “Go! You’ll find me!”
Colton began sprinting across an open grassy area toward a barn about a quarter mile away. The white pickup threw it in reverse, spun its tires, throwing rancid burnt-tire smell into the air, and sped off across the field after him.
Fear is not real. It’s the product of thoughts you create. Danger, however, is very real, but fear is a choice. Colton accepted the danger, but he had no fear.
Chapter 28
DAY SEVENTEEN
2:30 p.m., September 25
Highway 64, Main Street
Savannah, Tennessee
“Mom! Hurry, drive!” shouted Alex, attempting to bring her mother out of her momentary shock. Madison quickly slid under the steering wheel and rammed the truck into drive. The tires spun as Madison launched the Wagoneer toward the men who were approaching with their rifles pointed at the windshield.
Madison whipped the steering wheel to the right to avoid hitting them, but clipped the passenger with the trailer hitch rack, causing him to flip over and roll under the Dodge. He fired wildly toward the Wagoneer in retaliation, but missed his mark.
The driver had better luck, unloading a deluge of bullets into the rear of the truck, which also ricocheted off the Wagoneer’s fenders.
“Where’s Colton?” hollered Madison as she hopped the curb and sent them both crashing into the ceiling. Several more rounds of bullets flew past the truck and splintered the telephone pole as Madison roared passed. Both of the Ryman women attempted to look for Colton through their side mirrors but had no luck.
“Mom! They’re coming after us.”
Madison sped up the hill past a dilapidated building and the algae-green swimming pool of the local hotel. She swerved to miss a pothole as the truck gained speed, but then found herself unable to bring the Wagoneer to a stop as she vaulted out of the alley and into the middle of Main Street.
“Which way?” asked Madison. She turned her head back and forth, temporarily disoriented by the onslaught of activity and bullets.
“Left. Go left!” yelled Alex.
Madison whipped the wheel and floored the gas, barely missing several parked cars in the process. Another round of bullets blew out the windows of the cars next to them as their pursuers entered Main Street, then skidded to a halt and opened fire.
Madison was creating some space between them and the trailing Dodge when Alex shouted, “Look ahead. Tw
o trucks are coming right for us. They’re shooting!”
Gunfire erupted from the passengers in both pickup trucks and their bullets ripped up the asphalt pavement in front of the Wagoneer. Madison whipped the truck back and forth, attempting to dodge the bullets, but a few embedded in the Wagoneer’s fenders.
“Turn right up here!” shouted Alex, who was fumbling to find their location on the map. “I didn’t think of other ways around Savannah. I was just sure this would be okay.”
She took the right turn too fast, which threw Alex hard into Madison’s shoulder. The rear of the truck slid out from under them and the left rear quarter panel crashed into a metal street sign. Madison overcorrected and the Wagoneer bounced over the sidewalk, sending both girls off their seat and into the ceiling of the truck. She finally brought the truck to a halt as it skidded through a vacant lot up against a tree.
Resting momentarily under the hundred-year-old oak’s canopy wasn’t an option. The three vehicles pursuing them arrived at the side street simultaneously, resulting in a jumbled mess of cars all attempting to occupy the same space. Shouts and cursing between the men gave Madison an opportunity to get away.
She crossed them up by doubling back, spinning and sliding through the grassy lot toward Main Street. While the pursuing vehicles were wedged together, she hit Main Street with a screech of tires and gassed it towards the bridge crossing the river.
As they rounded the final bend, the concrete barricades came into view and they were greeted with a barrage of gunfire. Alex screamed as a round skipped off the hood of the truck and dinged the passenger side of the windshield. Other rounds careened off the road and past them as Madison deftly whipped the truck past the Huddle House into a gravel parking lot behind three parked eighteen-wheelers.
THUMP—THUMP—THUMP.
The shooters were emptying rounds into the trailers and attempting to skip bullets under the chassis. Madison moved forward, using the big trucks as cover.
“Mom, the three cars are coming!” shouted Alex, pointing to her right. “Two are on Main Street and the other is on the side road right in front of us. You’ve gotta go!”
Madison gunned it through a yard and drove onto a road that ran northbound, parallel to the river. She sped up the residential street, which was completely empty except for a few parked cars. In that moment, Madison thought it was odd that all of this activity and gunfire didn’t bring people out of their homes.
She continued to the north as Alex fumbled with the maps to find their location. “Mom, these maps won’t help us because Savannah is too small. There isn’t a city map available.”
“We have to get out of town,” said Madison calmly.
“What? We can’t leave Daddy!” protested Alex.
The Dodge sedan rounded the curve behind them and came into view. Their pursuers were gaining speed. Madison looked in the mirrors and reminded herself—one thing at a time.
The road took a sudden right turn and Madison braked to slow the heavy Wagoneer. As she did, she saw a circular driveway that led behind a house on the right. She pulled into the driveway and raced around the back. They were now alone and well hidden from the street.
“Help me watch,” instructed Madison as she took a deep breath, exhaled, and pushed the hair out of her face. Alex turned and looked between the older homes, which were closely spaced together. They had a narrow, thirty-foot-wide space to observe the street from, but it was enough to notice their speeding pursuers.
First, the Dodge sedan raced past their position, followed less than a minute later by the two pickup trucks. Madison and Alex held their breath for a moment before they started looking for a way out.
“We can’t stay here,” said Madison. “They have too many men and operating vehicles.”
“Radios too,” added Alex as she gathered up the AR-15 out of the backseat. She grabbed an extra magazine. She’d made sure all of them were full.
“Let’s work our way through these backyards and put some space between us,” started Madison. “We need to get out of town and regroup. Then we’ll come back for your dad.”
Madison drove through to the next street and turned north.
“Mom!” shouted Alex as a car sped through the four-way intersection in front of them. “He saw us. We’ve gotta hide or something.”
The car spun its tires in reverse, throwing black smoke into the air. It was one of those old muscle cars—a Dodge Charger. Lightning fast, the car spun around and was headed for them before Madison reacted.
She turned right into a driveway and looked for an exit through the backyard. She faced a six-foot-tall privacy fence instead. Panicked, she looked for a way out. She started to back out of the driveway when the Charger squealed to a stop behind her before backing up to follow them. Madison was out of options.
“Hold on!” she shouted and floored the gas pedal. She roared toward the wooden fence and crashed through it, sending shrubs and fencing over the top of the Wagoneer.
The truck bounced over a landscape berm then clipped the side of a swing set as it swerved and slid through the backyard. The Charger was right behind them!
Madison didn’t have time to think. She slammed the accelerator and crashed through several low-hanging tree limbs before crashing through the fence again at the back of the yard.
“Pool! Pool!” shouted Alex as the back door neighbor’s inground swimming pool suddenly came into view. Madison veered to the right, throwing up grass turf and dirt, barely missing the pool decking but plowing through some lawn furniture.
The Charger behind her wasn’t as lucky. The debris obstructed their view and the driver was slower to react. The car, and its occupants, dove nose-first into the deep end and flipped upside down before it sank.
Madison didn’t wait around to see it submerge completely. She wheeled the Wagoneer through the backyard and out onto the driveway. She hit the street at full speed, whipping the steering wheel back and forth to adjust the top-heavy Wagoneer.
They dashed up the street until a car suddenly appeared from their left. How many are there? Madison quickly zigzagged to the right, narrowly missing the new participant’s front end. The sedan pulled out behind them and the passenger began firing at them.
“Mom, what do I do?”
“Shoot back!”
Alex pulled the charging handle and leaned out of her window. She fired a few short bursts from the AR-15, which slowed the chasing sedan down.
“They slowed down!” exclaimed Alex.
Madison was approaching sixty miles an hour now and thought she was getting away. Then she glanced to her left and saw two cars speeding alongside on the road next to them. Between the houses, she could see the occupants looking toward her.
“Alex.”
“I see them, Mom. They’re gonna cut us off.”
“Seatbelt, dear,” said Madison calmly. “We’re not gonna stop.” She floored the gas and the truck began to shake when the out-of-balance tires hit seventy miles an hour.
They approached the four-way intersection as the two cars to the left took the curve in their direction. The first car hit the intersection first and was going too fast to stop. It skidded sideways and slid into an oak tree on the other side after spinning three hundred and sixty degrees.
Madison didn’t slow the Wagoneer as the second vehicle, which resembled Sheriff Andy’s car from Mayberry, slowed into the intersection. A smallish man who resembled Deputy Barney calmly stepped out of the driver’s side. He was wearing a sheriff’s uniform with a broad-brimmed, brown cowboy hat.
The man began to pull his pistol when Alex opened fire. She didn’t hesitate to empty ten rounds into the old-school sheriff’s car, sending the man crawling for cover behind it. Madison slowed to drive between the two vehicles as Alex continued firing upon anyone who showed their head. As they got closer, Alex shot out their tires.
Madison gave it gas and roared past, but not before she locked eyes briefly with the sheriff of Hardin County. There w
as something very wrong about Savannah other than the fact that her husband was on the run and they were being hunted like escaped fugitives. She’d find their way out of town to safety and return to find her husband.
Chapter 29
November 2008
Main Street
Savannah, Tennessee
The days following the election of the first black President of the United States overshadowed the local political story in tiny Hardin County, Tennessee, just as Mayor-elect Betty Jean Durham knew it would. If the truth were known, Betty Jean never thought she had a chance to win a county-wide race that was known for its low democratic turnout and heavy money influence in favor of incumbent Republicans. But when it became apparent in June of that year that the democrats were going to nominate their first black candidate for the highest office in the land, Betty Jean shrewdly saw the playing field even out for a mayoral run in democrat-friendly Savannah.
The incumbent Republican mayor and the Hardin County sheriff had both become embroiled in scandals in the fifteen months prior to that November 2008 election. Mayor Wally Walters was finally caught with his paws in the city’s cookie jar, helping himself to United Way donations raised by local businesses for a park along the river. He resigned in disgrace and his temporary replacement didn’t have a nose for politicking. Not like Betty Jean, anyway.
Hardin County, like most of the South, was full of yellow dog democrats—a term originating in the 1800s for voters who would vote for a yellow dog before they would vote for any Republican. The eastern half of the county was full of ’em and Betty Jean knew that all it would take was to get ’em to the polls.
For her to win the mayoral race, she had to make sure the black voter turnout was strong, which seemed to be a given considering the democratic presidential candidate. But she also needed to get other typical democratic constituencies to the ballot box on Election Day.
