by JEFF MOTES
My trip to Atlanta was great, my first as a bank VP. Phillip Smith, the bank president, sent me to the meeting. It was great being around lots of bank executives, most with higher positions than my own. The conversations with these people are what have me considering possible advancement outside Merchants Bank. Rubbing shoulders with people from the Federal Reserve didn’t hurt either.
I’ve been listening to Neil Cavuto’s Your World on Fox News. One of the things I like about this car is that Sirius XM came standard and is free for the first year. The news and financial network stations are my favorites. I like to stay informed about what’s going on and I’m usually switching between Fox News, Bloomberg, and CNBC, unless, of course, my wife Melissa is with me. She can’t stand the news channels. She prefers pop.
A ‘Breaking News’ alert is on the radio. Seems to be a lot of these lately, although they are seldom true breaking news. This one gets my attention.
“This is a Fox News Alert. Fox News has just learned the United Sates is under immediate threat of—”
Then the radio goes dead and the car starts slowing down. That’s great. I’m on the interstate somewhere between Atlanta and Montgomery and my car decides to die. Coasting to the side of the road, I shift the transmission into park, then turn the key, trying to crank the car. Nothing happens. Not even a sound. The battery must be dead, because none of the dash indicator lights are on. Great, just great. I was hoping to be home before it got too late.
I pick up my cell phone to call for service, but it’s dead as well. I plug it back into the charger. Maybe I won’t have to wait too long. I have a membership with AAA. It’s pretty good. A few years back I started providing a free one-year membership to each of my home loan customers. It received such positive response that the bank decided to offer it to all of our new home loan customers. I even got a nice bonus for the idea. Personally, I’ve only had to use it twice in the past ten years, but it was worth it. Once for a flat tire on I-10 close to Biloxi, and once, for the same reason, on our family vacation to Orlando. When the phone is charged, I’ll make the call. It shouldn’t be much longer.
I’m trying to recall exactly where I am. Since my Infiniti has a build-in GPS unit I haven’t carried a road atlas, but I’m pretty sure I’m somewhere between Tuskegee and Montgomery. Neil Cavuto’s program on the radio was so interesting I wasn’t paying much attention to the road signs.
There isn’t much traffic moving. Actually, there isn’t any traffic moving at all, which is odd. Maybe odd is not the right word. I get out of my car and glance around. There are a few cars here and there stalled on the side of the road. I’m going to have to wait and see what happens. Somebody with emergency services should be coming by, checking on people on the interstate. Maybe they can explain what’s going on. I sit back in the car and try to recline the seat but am unable to since the electric controls won’t work. I check my phone; it’s still not working. Pulling my laptop from its bag, I turn it on. Might as well kill a little time playing Hay Day while waiting for emergency services to show up. This new laptop is state of the art hardware. A powerful i7 processor, large touch screen display, 4G wireless card, and other useful features, including a seven-hour battery life. I push the power button, but nothing happens. That’s another strange thing. This machine usually boots up in less than ten seconds. It’s not coming on at all.
Hmm…maybe this is something to be concerned about. Regardless, there is nothing I can do. I’m just going to have to wait for emergency services to show up.
Chapter 3
Jill
Time to Move
Day 1
I wake early in the morning. It wasn’t a good night. The car was hot, and now the windows are covered with condensation from my breathing since I couldn’t open them. At this point, I’m confident no help is coming. I pull the road atlas from the back seat. It doesn’t give a lot of detail about the small roads, but it’s a pretty good Rand McNally Road Atlas. I consider the route I need to travel home. If I were driving, the thing to do would be to continue on to I-59 then turn south on AL5 near Woodstock, but I’m walking. Distance is going to be critical, not how fast I can drive. I decide to take the exit at Hoover and work my way down to Montevallo, to Brent, then back onto AL5 as if I were driving. Just guessing, I figure I am about 175 miles from my home in Jackson. One hundred seventy-five miles!
“Dear God!,” I pray. “Help me along my way.”
Flashes of Lizzy flood my mind. I must do whatever it takes to get back to my daughter. I have never been a quitter. Lizzy and I have pretty much been alone since before she was born. I’ve had to carry the load of mother and father. I am going to make it home. I must.
I take my folding CRKT knife from my purse. It’s the Drifter model, with a blade lock and pocket clip, a present my dad gave me for my birthday a few years ago. I had never carried a knife in my purse before then. Since I started, I don’t know how I managed to do without it. I carefully cut out the two pages covering Alabama from the atlas. The rest of the atlas will be staying here. No need to carry it all the way home.
I’m wearing business slacks, stockings, business shoes, and a lightweight white blouse. The shirt might work, but I have a complete change of clothes in the back. One of the things my father taught me when I started driving was to keep contingency supplies in my car at all times. Ever since he gave me my first car, I’ve carried supplies. Right now is probably a good time to change clothes. With the windows covered in condensation, no one can see inside. I open the door and use the key to open the back latch. Retrieving my spare clothes, I return to the front of the car. With the door closed, I change. Not wanting to get completely naked in the car, I keep the same undies and bra on. They’ll be okay for today. I put my walking shoes on. They’re pretty good shoes and I hope they’ll hold up for this long trek home. The business shoes I had on are staying in the car. I’ll bring the shirt and pants because I don’t have another spare set, but neither was made for anything strenuous.
I search the glove compartment for anything useful. I’ve already gotten the only useful items here, the map and my Glock. The other items, car registration and insurance information, are staying with the car. In the center console, I pull out a notepad and pen, a nail clipper, and my emergency money. From the back, I get my laptop and try turning it on one more time. Nothing. It stays in the car. There is no way I’m going to haul a dead laptop 175 miles.
Outside the car, there is nobody close to me. There are some small trees and brush close by. I’ve really got to go. Better make it quick. After I do, I use the hand sanitizer from the door pocket to clean my hands, then open the hatch lid. Getting the box of supplies I always carry on out of town trips and the other useful items I found up front, I take them to the rear cargo area. Inside the box are some extra water and energy bars. These are added to my pre-packed get-home-bag. Some people refer them to as GHBs, three day bags, or a number of other terms. My pack has everything I’m going to need for three days. It contains a sleeping bag, socks, undies, first aid kit, extra batteries, another knife, flashlights, a 32 oz. stainless steel water bottle filled with water, water treatment tabs, a small water filter, food, fire making materials, a camping cook set, extra ammo for my Glock, a tarp, and a variety of other useful items, including toilet paper! Dad helped me put this all together. In fact, he insisted I keep it in my car at all times.
I’m beginning to get hungry, so I get the peanut butter crackers from the front of the car and the bottle of water. I munch on the crackers while I finish packing the extra supplies into my pack. Removing the useful items from my purse, I place them in the pack too.
It’s 8:30 a.m. now. I’d better get started, but first things first. I whisper a prayer, “Dear God, I don’t know how I am to make it home. I truly don’t. My faith is in You. See me home safely and keep my family safe. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”
I heft my bag to my shoulders. It is heavy! It must weigh thirty pounds, but I’m a fairly strong woman
. I’m 5’6” tall and weigh 135 pounds, depending on the time of month. Maybe I am carrying a little extra walking-around-weight, but I’m probably going to need it for this journey home. I’m used to toils and struggles. I’ve been a single mom ever since Lizzy was born, put myself through college, and have been working ever since. It wouldn’t have been possible without the help of my parents and God. God will be my help here too. As Psalms 23 says, “I will fear no evil, for you are with me.”
With a somewhat lifted spirit, I start on my journey.
It is hard to walk all that fast with this extra weight. I’m a couple of miles north of Exit 19 and want to get off on Exit 13, then work my way through the roads and streets to Montevallo. I’ll check the map and study the route more closely after getting off the interstate. For now, there is no getting lost. Just follow the interstate to Exit 13, about ten miles away.
There are a few other people walking as well. Most aren’t carrying backpacks. They don’t appear to have anything, even water. It makes me a little uncomfortable sticking out like I do with my pack. Most of the people I’ve encountered thus far are either getting off at Exit 19 or walking further west. After about two hours, I spot a young woman and two small children sitting in the shade of a stalled car. Hearing the children crying, I slow down and look all around, making sure there is nobody else lurking around. I approach with caution. When I come abreast of them, the woman asks, “Can you spare some water? At least for my children. They’re so thirsty.”
I have compassion for them. The kids are clearly in distress. The mother is too. “Sure, I think I can spare some water. How about a protein bar too? Maybe the kids could split one and you and I split one.”
With tears in her eyes the woman replies, “Yes, please.”
Looking around again and seeing nothing that might be a threat, I drop my pack, pull out three bottles of water, and hand them to the young mother. She opens one for each of the children, then opens one for herself.
The spirits of each of them seems to be lifted as they drink the water. I am removing the energy bars from my pack when I see three guys rapidly approaching. I drop the bars back into my pack and stand quickly.
“What’s wrong?” the woman asks.
“Nothing, maybe. There are some guys headed here fast.”
“Give us your water!” the lead guy hollers.
The second guy is laughing as he shouts, “Two sweet things! Oh, yes, two sweet things!”
My mind is racing, adrenaline flooding my bloodstream. I’m under a severe threat. The training dad gave me as a teenager and young mother comes instantly to mind. The book he had me read over and over, Principles of Personal Defense by Col. Jeff Cooper, races through my mind. This all occurs in seconds. The men are upon us. I know what I’m going to have to do.
When the lead guy is about twenty feet away, he lunges toward me with an upraised weapon of some kind. I have only seconds to respond before my skull is cracked open. Without hesitation, I draw my Glock, just as Dad trained me. I focus on putting the front sight on my attacker’s chest and fire three rapid shots. As soon as I complete firing, I sidestep two paces to the left and look for another target. The other two guys are running across the median to the other side of the interstate. I line the sights up on the back of one of the fleeing men. I hesitate for a moment, then lower my weapon to the ready position. I scan the area for additional threats, then look back to the woman and children. Not seeing any additional threats, I remove the magazine from my Glock and insert the full magazine from my pocket, then place the partial full magazine in my left front pocket. The man lying on the ground has a spreading red circle on his chest. I search for his weapon and find a short piece of pipe on the ground outside of his reach. Seeing no other weapons, I holster my Glock.
The man writhing on the ground gasps, “Help me. Help me.”
There is nothing I can do for him. My meager first aid kit does not contain supplies to treat a gunshot wound. Even if it did, I wouldn’t know what to do. I make a hard decision. I say, “We’ve got to get out of here.” Without saying a word to the man on the ground, I heft my pack and start to walk off. The woman gathers her children and follows me down the interstate.
I don’t look back. I can hear the woman and children hurrying behind me. The adrenaline is wearing off and I’m starting to shake. I walk faster. I’ve got to get away from here! My mind is racing as I come to grips with the gravity of what has happened. I shot a man. I shot him! He’s lying back there dying because I shot him! Bile starts rising in my stomach. I’m going to be sick.
“Please, please slow down,” the woman calls out. “We can’t keep up.” I stop next to a stalled Ford 4x4, bend over at the waist, and throw up what little there is in my stomach. Then the dry heaves begin. It feels as if my insides are going to come out. My throat burns. I drop my pack to the ground and collapse to my knees in tears. I cry hard with deep, gut wrenching sobs. Why did this have to happen? Why?
The woman approaches and puts her arms around my shoulders, pulling me close. The sobs and feelings of regret won’t stop. “It’s okay,” she says. “I know you’re hurting right now, but it’s going to be okay. You saved our lives. Not just yours and mine, but you saved my children as well. Thank you. I will never forget what you did for us.”
After a few minutes, I’m able to stop crying and pull away. “Thank you. I’ve never had to do anything like this. Never! My dad taught me as a teenager how to shoot and defend myself, never wanting me to have to depend upon a man for protection. I never thought it would actually come to this.”
“My name is Mary,” the woman says. “These are my children, Mandre and Lucy.”
I smile weakly. “My name is Jill. Pleased to meet you all.” Pulling a bottle of water from my pack, I rinse my mouth and drink. Remembering I promised them a protein bar, I pull two out of my pack and hand them to Mary. “Here, have both. I can’t eat anything right now.”
While sitting together, I strike up a conversation with Mary. She is a stay at home mom.
“I live not far from Exit 13,” she tells me. “Only about three miles.”
“Really? That’s the exit I’m going to take,” I say, perking up. “We can walk together that far if you want.”
“Oh, please let’s do,” Mary pleads. “I don’t think I can make it alone. My husband Bruce is a police officer in town. I’m sure he’s worrying pretty bad right now.”
“Well, if he's a police officer, he’s probably pretty sharp. I bet he's tracking you down right now. Did he know where you were going yesterday?”
Mary hangs her head. “No. We had a big argument yesterday morning. It was about nothing really. It got heated and we both said things we shouldn't have. He stormed out of the house for work. I packed the kids and went to see my sister near Leeds. He called several times, but I didn't answer. I wanted to make him worry. I know he was calling to say he was sorry. He never could stay mad very long. Now, because I wanted him to suffer, he has no idea where we are, and if it weren't for you, my children and I would be dead on the side of the road. All because of my foolish pride.”
“Well, Mary, I don't know what to say about that. We'll walk together as far as your home. We need to get moving, but before we do let's pray.” Closing my eyes, I pray, “Dear God, we thank You for Your hedge of protection. We pray You will see us safely to Mary's house and that Bruce will be okay. Father, I pray again for my baby girl, Lizzy, and my mother. Please place Your hedge of protection around each of us. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”
I stand up and heft my pack. Mary and the girls rise. I take another good look all around, then we continue the five more miles to the exit.
Chapter 4
Jack
Realization Sets In
Day 1
It’s early morning, though exactly what time I’m not sure since my smart watch isn’t working either. Maybe its battery is dead too. I didn’t sleep well at all. How could I? The seat wouldn’t even recline. No one with e
mergency services, or anyone else for that matter, has come by. In the distance, toward Montgomery, are a couple of stalled cars with people standing around. Back toward Tuskegee, I can’t see anybody.
Whatever has happened, must have happened over a widespread area, otherwise emergency services personnel would have passed by now. It is kind of early in the morning, maybe I should wait a little while longer. If no one shows up, I’ll start walking to the nearest exit toward Montgomery. It can’t be more than ten or fifteen miles. I go to the fitness center twice a week, so I’m in pretty good shape. Surely I can walk ten miles in a few hours.
Sitting in the front seat, I sip on the partial empty bottle of Dasani water and eat a Snickers candy bar. The only other food in the car is a pack of peanut butter crackers and another unopened bottle of Dasani water. I’m going to be hungry and thirsty this morning, at least until I make the next exit, where I should be able to buy whatever I need. There are nearly four hundred dollars in my billfold, plus a debit card, personal credit card, and work credit card. At the next exit I’ll be able to rent a room and get something to eat, then I can sort this situation out. I just have to make it to the next exit.
I search the car for any useful items I might take with me. I always keep my car cleaned out so there isn’t much. In the center console is my LED flashlight. It’s a really bright light. With fresh batteries, the thing shines a hundred yards or more. Melissa gave it to me last Christmas.
Melissa.
I wonder if my wife and my son are having the same issues with stalled cars that we’re having here. I pull the laptop from the back seat and try turning it on again. Still nothing. Regardless, it’s coming with me. I have too much invested in it to leave it. In the trunk I have a set of golf clubs, a tote bag, a first aid kit, a folding car sun shade, and my luggage. The luggage has wheels on the bottom, but I can’t even imagine pulling it over ten miles of interstate. Inside my luggage is more of the same that I am wearing now: business slacks, a white button-up shirt, socks, boxers, a toiletry kit, and a few other items. The laptop bag is large enough that it will hold the first aid kit and the toiletry kit, along with the laptop itself. I also stuff a pair of socks and briefs in the side pouch. Reaching into the golf bag I retrieve a number eight iron. This will make a formidable weapon and not a bad walking stick, though I cringe at the thought of it getting dragged along the road. My golf shoes are in the trunk as well, but they aren’t going to be of any use on a paved highway.
