by JEFF MOTES
“First we have to get up to speed on how things are back home. We need to see how well our community plans are being implemented and how well they’re working. Then we need to reach out to surrounding areas and see if there’s anything we can help them with. Then further out. It’s going to take a lot of work and effort for us to survive. But Jill, no matter what we do, thousands of people are going to die in Clarke County. Did you notice those kids back in Marion? How malnourished they looked?”
“Yes, it was horrible. It breaks my heart.”
“That is after less than two weeks since The Day. It’s going to get much worse in six weeks.”
“What can we do?”
“We stabilize our own community, then we reach out. Jill, no matter what we do, people, including children, are going to die. I’m sorry, but that’s the truth. Very few people can take care of themselves anymore. Most have lost the skills required for self-reliance. Those skills can be relearned, though for many, it will be too late.”
We drive along in silence for a while, the John asks, “You see the fields of crops along the road?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know what they are?”
“Not really, except I think some of it is corn.”
“Yes, some of it is corn. Much of it is soybean and cotton. Soybean has been used as a food filler and for other things for many years, but have you ever seen canned soybeans on the grocery store shelf?”
“No. I don’t think so, but I’ve never looked for them.”
“I haven’t seen them either. All those beans out there, how are people going to eat them?”
“I don’t know. What about the corn?”
“Corn is easily turned into edible food. The corn back there was less than six weeks old. It takes nearly one hundred days for it to become fully ripe.”
“I see. People are going to be out of food before the corn is ready.”
“It’s worse than that, Jill.”
“How can it be worse?” I ask, not knowing if I really want to know the answer.
“Did you notice the three large tractors in various locations in the middle of the fields? Did you notice how large those fields are?”
“I did.”
“Those newer tractors must have had some type of computer or electronic controls. It looks to me as though they have been sitting out there since The Day, meaning they will likely never run again. The farmers won’t have the equipment required to cultivate fields of that size, so the yields of the harvest are going to be lower. Sadly, without those tractors, much of the produce will never make it out of the fields. It’s going to ripen and rot, right there in the fields, with thousands of people starving.”
The magnitude of what has happened is beginning to sink in. “Please don’t tell me anymore, at least not now.”
He reaches for my hand. “I’m sorry, Jill. I shouldn’t have been so blunt about this. If we work together with our neighbors and can keep our community protected, Repose will be much different, I promise. You and Lizzy will be safe. If for some reason things were to go to crap there, I have another plan.”
How did he ever think of all these things? “John, you keep saying ‘the plan.’ What is ‘the plan’?”
“It’ll be easier if I show you, and more private too. Keeping our plans amongst ourselves is a key to our success or failure.”
“John, I’m glad you love me.”
“And I’m glad you love me too, Jill. Even if you didn’t I would have protected you, Lizzy, and your mother.”
I squeeze his hand. He probably would have.
Further down the highway, there are large fish ponds on both sides. These are commercial ponds. There are lots of people standing around them fishing. I wonder how far they came from. There aren’t many houses between Marion and Safford. In one of the large fields are a few smaller, older tractors at work. It appears that people are going to start planting if they haven’t already. This whole area, with the large fields and ponds is so beautiful. Some of the pastures run way back to the tree line, out of sight. A lot of food and livestock could be raised here. Maybe places like this can make a difference. But the tractors look like a toys in the midst of the large fields. Things are certainly going to be more difficult. I hope whoever did this to the country has been turned into a pile of ashes.
The radio crackles and Sarge’s voice comes across. “We’re approaching the Safford intersection. Let’s close the gaps. We will not be stopping at the hardware store.”
John speeds up and gets closer to Anderson. The radio crackles again. This time it’s Anderson.
“Lots of people ahead. Don’t slow down any more than necessary to make the turn. No stopping. There’s a massive crowd close to the hardware store, walking south.”
Highway 5 makes a sharp turn at the intersection with the highway to Selma. Anderson is making his turn a little too fast and his truck fishtails slightly. John slows a little as he makes his turn. The crowd is so large they must have come from Selma. John said people would be fleeing the cities and moving to more rural areas. The road is covered with people, maybe hundreds, all walking south. Some are running toward the truck trying to wave us down. John keeps moving. I glance back. Sarge barely makes it through before his way is blocked.
John says, “This is going to be really bad for everybody in the path of these people. They’re going to be like locusts, devouring everything along their way. If they aren’t diverted or stopped, they’ll make it to Thomasville within a week.”
“How are Sarge and his guys going to get back? They can’t drive through a crowd like this.”
“Jill, you are an observant woman,” John says appreciatively. “You are correct. Sarge will have to make adjustments to his route back. The crowd may dwindle in size or may head up to Linden or over to Camden. These poor folks along here are fixing to lose everything they have.”
***
We’ve traveled another ten miles, seeing a few people walking along the road. None try to stop the trucks. They simply stand far away and watch the trucks go by. I’m starting to get excited. Theo and Cassandra haven’t spoken at all except to answer direct questions. They are still processing a lot of pain right now. We pass the Catherine road sign. There used to be a school in Catherine, but it’s been closed a long time.
“John, it’s less than thirty miles to Thomasville. Being in Thomasville is almost like being home! I’m getting excited. We’re actually going to make it home today!”
“If we can keep this up we may get to Jackson before 4:00, though I think things will probably slow when we try to go through or around the towns.”
Then he slams on the brakes as the truck in front of us explodes!
Chapter 59
Jill
Keep Moving
Day 11
When John slams on the brakes to avoid the damaged truck, my body flies forward. His arm flies out trying to buffer my impact with the dash, and mostly succeeds. Theo and Cassandra are not as fortunate, and they both hit the dashboard hard. Then the pop, pop, pop of gunfire is heard as bullets impact the truck.
In a booming voice over the radio Sarge is barking orders, forgetting call signs. “John, an IED, damn it! Don’t stop. Keep moving! Move through!”
John starts working the gears and guns the truck with power, maneuvering around the mangled truck. Bullets continue to pepper the truck, which is being fired upon from both sides.
Cassandra is screaming.
“Get down, Jill, as low as you can!” He pulls me down toward his lap while trying to work the stick shift. The truck speeds around the wreck and John starts slowing. “Sarge is pulling over,” he says. “He must be helping the other guys.”
Sarge’s booming voice can be heard, even over Cassandra’s screams, “John, get the hell out of here! Keep going! Don’t stop!”
John hesitates, while bullets continue to impact the truck.
“John, move now, damn it!” Sarge bellows. “We’ll catch up later
if we can! Go! Go! Go!”
John presses the accelerator and the truck surges forward.
On the east side is clear-cut land, and on the west, a small pasture. In a few moments we are beyond both, and trees are again on both sides of the road. The bullet impacts stop. I sit up and look back. One truck is on fire. Sarge’s truck is in the ditch and the men are seeking cover.
Voices come over the radio:
“Can anyone spot the shooters?”
“About one hundred yards on either side. Can’t tell how many.”
I hear the continuous pop, pop, pop of rapid gunfire. John is looking in the rearview mirror. “They’re pinned down. They are going to get cut to pieces.”
“Is there anything we can do?” I ask.
“If we don't do something, they will all likely be killed.”
“John, we must do something! Tell me what to do!” I almost scream, trying to be heard over Cassandra.
John turns down a faint dirt road on the east side of the main road and heads into the trees. He drives in about twenty-five yards, then stops and jumps out, leaving the truck running.
“Everybody stay in the truck!” he yells.
He scans the area and studies the road. After a few moments, he’s back in the truck. “Doesn’t look like anybody has been down this road. No truck tracks, for sure.” He backs the truck into the woods off the road, and cuts the engine. Everyone is getting out.
Cassandra is still crying. Theo is screaming, “What are you doing? Get back in the truck, and let’s go!”
“If we don’t help them, they’ll all be dead soon,” John tells him.
“I don’t care!” Theo shouts. “We have got to go!”
John pulls the keys from the ignition, hands them to me, and starts barking orders. “This is what we are going to do.” He grabs his pack and mine off the truck and sets them on the ground. He gets his carbine and the hunting rifle. “I’m going to go down this road and see if I can flank the shooters. If I can do that, Sarge and the guys might have a chance.”
John ignores Theo’s curses and his pleas for us to leave. All his attention is on his guns and me.
“Jill, I’ll call you or click the radio three times every ten minutes or so to let you know I’m okay. I want you and the others to take your packs and head into the woods to hide. Take my pack too. If you need me, call me. If you don’t hear from me within thirty minutes, or if I call and tell you to leave, you must get in the truck and drive to Thomasville. Do you understand?”
“John, I’m not going to leave y—”
“Damn it, Jill!” John bellows. “If you don’t promise to do what I say, I’m getting back in the truck and we’re leaving now!”
I’m startled by the sternness in his voice and start to tear up. In a more tender voice he says, “You have to promise me or I can’t help these guys.”
“I promise, John.” Tears start rolling down my cheeks. “I promise to do as you say.”
He draws me close, kisses me deeply, and says, “Jill, I love you. I will be back. If anybody comes down this road, just stay quiet and hide. Don’t let your presence be known. If you have to leave without the truck, walk only at night using the NVDs.” He reaches inside the truck for Sarge’s radio, kisses me again, and says, “I won’t fail you.”
He sets off at a trot down the road.
My tears are flowing heavily. Theo is screaming after John, but I pay him no attention. My man is going off into certain danger. Danger he must face to save his new friends. The sounds of gunfire are loud, my heart is hurting, not knowing the future. He is out of sight now. I turn back toward the truck to get the packs and comply with his instructions. I look at the door. Sand is pouring out of five bullet holes.
I fall down to my knees and start praying. “Dear God, oh, dear God, please bring John back to me! Please grant him strength and courage! Please save Sarge and his men! Help me to be strong! In Jesus’ name, Amen!”
Theo is now screaming at me, “We have to go. We have to go now!”
“You heard what John said,” I reply. “We’re going to follow his instructions.”
“Sarge said for us to keep going!” Theo hollers. “That’s what we have to do.”
“We aren’t leaving until John returns, or he tells us to leave, or we haven’t heard from him in thirty minutes,” I say calmly. “Now get your gear and let’s move into the woods.” I sling the Ruger over my shoulder and reach for John’s pack. It’s too heavy for me to carry. I’m going to have to drag it.
“John is not in charge and neither are you!”
I turn toward Theo. He has the shotgun pointing directly at my face. I freeze.
“Theo,” Cassandra says in horror, “what are you doing!”
“Jill, either get in the truck and let’s leave now or give me the keys to the truck!”
“Theo, if you hurt me, John will track you down and kill you.”
“I’m not going to hurt you unless you don’t give me those damn keys!”
“Theo, these people helped us,” Cassandra pleads. “We can’t do this!”
“I know what they did, but what use was it for them to save us if we are only going to get killed right here?” Theo counters. “I won’t let any more white bastards get their hands on you!”
I see the fear and turmoil in his eyes and realize I have no choice. “Let me get the ATV and our gear, and I’ll give you the keys.”
“Okay, but hurry.” Theo tracks me with the shotgun. I set the ramps up at the back of the truck and load our supplies onto the ATV. I’ve never driven an ATV up or down ramps before. It looks scary. It is scary. I carefully maneuver down the ramps and drive the ATV into the woods. Theo has been tracking me the whole time with the shotgun. I go over and give him the keys.
“I’m sorry, Jill,” he says. “I truly am. Cassandra, get in.”
He cranks the truck and jerkingly drives back to the highway.
I hide the ATV as best I can, then take my rifle and walk farther into the woods, hiding and waiting for John’s call. “Just in case” saved our lives again.
The gunfire is intense. I start in earnest prayer. It seems like forever before I hear the three radio clicks. I click back and continue to pray unceasingly.
Chapter 60
John
End Around
Day 11
I retrieve Sarge’s radio from the truck and turn it all the way down. I pause in front of Jill. There is so much I want to say, so much I feel, but there is no time. I kiss her and taste the salt of her tears on her lips. “I won’t fail you,” I say, then jog down the road deeper into the woods. As I run, I pray, “Dear God, give Jill strength, keep her safe. Guide my path and steady my hand. Give me clarity of thought and fight my enemies before me. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”
There is no more time to think of Jill, yet I lick my lips one more time before turning my attention on what’s ahead and the task at hand. I heard on the radio the bastards were about one hundred yards off the road. I’m getting close to that now. I’ll run a little farther, then cut through the woods to get behind them. I might be able to pick them off with the suppressed carbine if I can get close enough, or at least injure them enough to take them out of the fight and give Sarge and the guys a chance to escape. Whatever is done must be done quickly.
The gunfire is getting louder. Rounding a bend I come to an abrupt halt. Right in front of me are two men, both holding shotguns hanging down in one hand. My carbine is in the ready position. My surprise appearance freezes them into inaction, but their presence prompts an instant response from me. I raise the carbine and shoot the one on the right in the face. I’m already swinging to the other before the first hits the ground.
The second one drops his gun and raises his hands, pleading, “Don’t shoot, don’t shoot!”
I hold my fire and rapidly cover the remaining fifteen yards. Placing the muzzle of the suppressor under his chin I say, “You only have a few seconds to live unless you tell me exactly
what I want to know. How many shooters are on this side of the road and on the other side? If you lie to me, I will do worse than kill you!”
The bastard is little more than a boy, maybe seventeen or eighteen, but he’s old enough to carry a gun and help these others attacking my friends.
“There are three guys behind cover in the clearing, two more guys in the woods on the other side,” he says in a shaking voice. “One guy sitting in a lawn chair behind the guys firing down. The other side is the same, except nobody in a lawn chair.”
“All right, you little bastard, that sounds so stupid it must be true. If you’ve lied to me, you are going to beg to die.”
The boy is crying and wetting his pants, but I have no pity for him. I pat him down, checking for other weapons. I get a knife from his back pocket and toss it into the woods. There’s a pack on the ground not far off. Putting the carbine on the boy’s chest I push him toward the pack.
“What’s inside? Answer quickly!”
“Rope, duct tape, tie wraps. Stuff like that,” the boy says.
These bastards must have done this before. Keeping the gun on his chest, I open the pack and pull the duct tape out. “I’m going to either duct tape you or I’m going to kill you. I don’t care which. If you resist at all, I will kill you. Now hold out your hands!” The boy holds his hands out. I lower the carbine and look him straight in the eyes. He’s shaking as I tape his hands together. “Get down,” I command.
He obeys and I tape his legs. There is deep fear in his eyes as I tape his mouth. He starts squirming when I open my knife and move it toward his face. “Be still, you little bastard, before I cut your throat!” I cut a slit in the duct tape, for air. Pocketing my knife, I continue through the woods.
I click the radio three times to give Jill comfort, though I doubt it’s been ten minutes since we parted. Ahead is an opening through the woods. I crouch and approach. The noise of the gunfire is intense. They must have a lot of ammo. I’m about twenty-five yards behind them when I make it to the edge of the woods at the clearing. Taking cover behind a pine tree, I go prone and survey the scene. The little bastard didn’t lie, at least about the ones firing. There are three of them, spaced about ten yards apart, behind pushed up logs. There is one guy wearing a Hawaiian shirt in a lawn chair, smoking a cigar and drinking a bottle of beer! He’s the first bastard I’m going to kill. All their attention is toward the road. I can’t tell for sure what weapons they’re using. By the rates of fire they must have large capacity magazines.
