by JEFF MOTES
He shows me how to hold and operate the gun. He is standing close, right behind me, with one arm reaching over alongside my own arm. His chest is against my back and the warm air of his breath is on my shoulders. The feeling is electric.
I lower the rifle. “Are you trying to seduce me? Because if you are, it’s working.”
He grins and backs up a little. “Later.”
He reloads the rifle and places it in the holder where he carried the shotgun before Theo got his hands on it. He has three spare full magazines and one partial magazine. He puts them in a pouch on the side of his pack. We pray together, then mount the ATV and head out of the woods.
At the highway, John stops and scans both directions for a few minutes, then pulls out and heads south.
“What time is it?” I ask.
He checks his watch and replies, “6:15.”
We arrive at the intersection of AL10 and AL5. John drives across to the makeshift roadblock. Some men walk over.
“Bill,” he says, “this is Jill Ba—”
“Jill Barnes!” Bill interrupts. “How are you doing? Did you spend the night alongside the road?”
“Hello, Bill. Actually, we were in the woods.”
“John, why didn’t you tell me Jill was with you?” Bill asks. “I would have put y’all up in my home. Couldn’t have offered you much more than a safe place to sleep, but I would’ve been glad to have done so. I know Sue would have been glad to see you again, Jill.”
“If John had told me it was you up here, I would have insisted he bring me down, but all is good.”
“How did you get together with John? Were you in Birmingham too?”
Left out of the conversation, John has a bemused expression on his face.
“I was. We got together a few days later on our way home. I’m so anxious to see my mom and Lizzy. Can we drive through town now?”
“Of course,” Bill says with a smile. “To make sure you don’t have any problems, I’ll ride through with you. My shift is almost up anyway.”
He comes over and gives me a hug then says to John, “Follow me. Get Jill home safely.”
John follows Bill’s ATV through town.
“Okay, that was interesting,” he says to me. “I think you should do the talking from now on and I’ll just do the shooting.”
I laugh a little. “I helped Sue with her physical therapy after she had knee surgery. They are nice people.”
Driving through town, there are lots of stalled cars and several stalled log trucks. Some with logs, some empty. Several of the stores and shops have busted windows, but nothing bad. The worst is the little quick-stop. It’s been looted. Right past the church is the other roadblock.
“This one is set up better,” John notes. “It’s at a bridge over the creek; a good control point.”
Bill stops where the other men are and talks to them while John eases the ATV toward the opening in the bridge. When he gets even with the men, he says to them, “I almost forgot to mention something very important. When we came through Safford yesterday, there was a large cluster of people heading this way. I’d say more than a hundred. You better get ready.”
“Thanks, we will,” Bill says. “Take care.”
***
While driving toward Thomasville, another ten miles further south, I see cars, trucks, and log trucks along the highway, and a few people walking. Most are armed, but they don’t raise their weapons. That’s a good thing. Considering what we’ve been through, John would probably shoot them if they did, whether they intended to shoot us or not. It’s going to take about thirty minutes to get to Thomasville. Our speed is pretty good, but at a few places the stalled cars are so close together that John is very cautious. He usually leaves the highway and goes around.
“Bill told me they wouldn’t let people with guns into town,” he says. “Depending on what we see when we get there, I may go up to the checkpoint or just go around town.”
“Whatever you think. I’m good either way.”
“Maybe I ought to let you do the talking.”
I smile. “It worked with Bill, but no. If I know somebody there, okay, otherwise you do the talking and I’ll sit here looking pretty.”
At Thomasville, the checkpoint is set across the highway just south of where US43 and AL5 intersect. It runs from the Burger King parking lot to the Chevron gas station.
“If we have to go around, we’ll go north on US43, then cut over toward Chilton, but I’m going up to the barricade first,” John decides. “I hope Bill is right. I don’t think I can fight these guys if they try to take our weapons.”
This roadblock is much different than the one in Pine Hill. There are National Guard Troops in digital BDUs armed with what John says are M4 rifles. As we approach, a soldier steps out and raises his hand, indicating for us to stop. His rifle is not raised, but his hand is on the grip, ready for action if needed.
“Good morning, sir, ma’am,” he says. “What can we do for you?”
“We’re trying to get to Jackson,” John replies.
“Where are you coming from, and why do you want to get to Jackson?”
“We were in the Birmingham area on The Day and have been trying to get home ever since. Jill is from Jackson. I live in Repose.”
“Birmingham!” the soldier exclaims. “Y’all came from Birmingham?! That’s hard to believe.”
That seems to irritate John a little, yet he answers calmly, “That’s where we were. We’re both very tired and only want to see our families.”
“I’m sorry, only residents of Thomasville are allowed to bring guns into town,” the soldier says. “You’re going to have to go around. Do you know how to go through Chilton?”
“Yes,” John says with a heavy sigh. “Can you tell me anything about travel conditions south of Thomasville?”
“We’ve heard there has been sporadic violence.”
“Okay, thanks. We’ll be moving on.”
“Wait, did you say you’re from Repose?” the solder asks.
“I am,” John says. Pointing at me he says, “She’s from Jackson.”
“Do you know a Robert Carter?”
“I recognize you now,” John says. “The helmet threw me off. I’m John Carter, Robert’s brother. You were up hunting last season. That was my camp you stayed in.”
The soldier grins. “Those were some good times. How is Robert?”
“I haven’t seen him in about three weeks. I don’t know where he is. Before The Day, he was supposed to be in Dallas, but I have no idea now.”
The solider ponders for a moment, then says, “My relief will be here at 0730, that’s in about ten minutes. If you want, I’ll give you an escort to the south side of Thomasville.”
“That would be great,” John says. “It will save us nearly an hour.”
“Pull on in and wait over there. Don’t say anything to anyone. We’ll keep this between us.”
“Will do,” John says, then parks at the indicated location.
“What was that all about?” I ask.
“That soldier is one of Robert’s buddies. I met him back in December when he came hunting with Robert. His name is Rick Taylor. If he can get us through Thomasville, that would be great.”
“Yes, it will. I’m feeling almost at home now.”
We get off the ATV and stretch. John gets a protein bar out of his pack and gives me half. It's blueberry, one of my favorites. Before long a Humvee pulls up and Rick gets out.
“Follow me,” he says. “Don’t stop. Only people who live in Thomasville are allowed off the highway.”
John says, “No problem.
“Okay, let's go.”
I look at the buildings while John closely trails Rick’s Humvee. The Walmart has barbed wire stretched all around. There are lots of people there. More barbed wire surrounds the other grocery store. In this parking lot, it looks like a cook tent has been set up. I wonder what time they feed people. There didn’t seem to be much cooking activi
ty going on, yet the line is at least a half mile long. About half the cars we’ve seen have been vandalized, and half of those burned. Broken glass and trash is scattered everywhere. It brings a tear to my eye as I remember how clean Thomasville always looked.
It takes about twenty minutes to make it to the south checkpoint. It's located at the bridge, south of the community college.
Rick gets out and comes over to us. “Good luck to you both. I checked with the guards here and they said they haven’t heard of any major trouble on Highway 43, but there were reports of a biker gang in the more rural areas.”
“Thanks, Rick,” John says. “Listen, if you find yourself in need of a place to stay and work, come to Repose. Take care.”
With a wave, we’re gone.
“We only have about twenty-five more miles to go,” I say. “I'm getting excited.”
“I am too. Remember, we need to stay vigilant.”
The morning air is pleasant, flowing across my face. I snuggle up to John’s back and close my eyes.
A little while later John squeezes my leg and says, “We’re coming up on the Grove Hill bypass.”
I sit up. Things look pretty much the same, with stalled cars and trucks scattered along the way. I watch two four-wheelers pull out just ahead as we approach the road that leads to the sheriff’s office.
“Looks like they may be deputies,” John says. “I could see their badges when they turned on to the highway. Maybe we can follow them all the way to Jackson.”
John follows about two hundred yards behind them. They don’t seem to mind the shadow.
About twenty minutes later we crest a hill and see an old church on the west side of the road.
“Isn't this the road in to Repose?” I ask.
“Yes, that’s the Toddtown Road. It's one of the ways. It's the way we’ll travel when we go home.”
Home!! It'll be new to me, but for some reason it seems that when I get there, it will feel like home. My thoughts are interrupted as I’m slammed into John’s back from his rapid braking of the ATV. John utters a curse and I look forward. I can see and hear the swarm coming out of Echo Ridge Drive.
Chapter 64
John
The Swarm
Day 12
Jill’s chest slams into my back when I break the ATV hard. I curse at what I see ahead. The two deputies are swarmed by at least a dozen bikers pouring out from Echo Ridge Drive. I’ve stopped, trying to decide our course of action, but the decision is already made for us. I hear gunshots, and four of the bikers turn in our direction. They will be upon us in seconds. There is no time to flee, and nowhere to get the ATV into the woods. We have only one choice. Fight. Right here, right now.
I tell Jill, “I love you. Stay behind me and keep your head down. Be prepared with your Glock.”
I shoulder the Mini-14 and begin firing. The bikers are about seventy-five yards away and closing fast. The third shot brings down the lead biker in a crash. The second biker drives into the wreck and flips his bike. The remaining two separate and zigzag on their route to us, firing pistols. I track the one to the right and continue to fire. He goes down ten yards in front of us. The fourth biker drives past fast, continuing to fire. None of the rounds fired by the bikers have hit me or Jill. When the bike passes by, I jump off the ATV.
“Jill, get my carbine and drop to the road on the woods side of the ATV! Now!”
The red dot is tracking the last biker as he turns around about a hundred yards away. I start firing. He falls about twenty-five yards in front of us. I put six more rounds into him to make sure he doesn’t get back up. The metallic sound of the carbine in action reaches my ears. Jill is engaging two of the bastards from the front. My earlier shots had not killed them. I raise the Mini-14 and empty the remaining magazine into their bodies.
“Jill, head to the tree line for cover! Watch our back! Turn your radio on. Be ready to retreat into the woods!.” I remove the empty magazine and grab the spares from my pack, heading toward the two deputies.
The deputies are off their ATVs, using them for cover. The bikers are weaving in and out, firing on the deputies. I trot to within one hundred yards, then go to my knee and commence firing. It’s hard to get a good target on the moving bikers at this distance. I take the best shots I can. Two of the bikers are already down from the deputies’ shots. I take one down, then the loud boom of a very powerful rifle fills the air. The arm of one biker is separated from his body. With a second boom a biker is lifted off his seat. The remaining bikers streak off to the north on the highway towards Grove Hill. I fire as they pass by, but see no impacts. I change magazines, and glance back toward Jill. A man is kneeling beside the tree Jill has used for cover. I call on the radio, “Barney, are you okay?” I get no response. I call again. “Jill, are you okay?”
She is running toward the ATV. She gets on and drives to me. “I couldn’t hear you,” she says breathlessly.
I check my radio. The battery is dead. I jump on behind Jill. “Take us to the deputies.”
Jill gives it fuel and we speed forward. At the scene, I dismount and quickly dispatch any biker moving. Both deputies are injured. One is bleeding profusely.
“Do you have an IFAK or trauma kit?” I ask.
They both say, “No.”
I grab my trauma kit and IFAK from my pack. “Help me, Jill” I run to the men. The less injured of the two is trying to stop the bleeding from the other’s arm with little success. I remove the CAT tourniquet from my trauma kit and place it up high on the bleeder’s left arm, cinch it down, and twist the windlass. The officer screams in pain.
“Sorry, man. It’s the only way to stop the bleeding.”
I continue twisting the windlass until the bleeding stops, then set it in its retaining clip and strap it in place with the Velcro. “Jill, I need the sharpie, gloves, and Celox gauze, then I’ll need the trauma pad in the green package.”
Taking the shears, I cut the shirt off the man’s arm. After putting the gloves on I probe the wound with my fingers. Feels like a through and through shot that maybe nicked the artery. I start packing the wound channel with the Celox gauze. The man passes out from the pain. I say to Jill, “Get the ace bandage and a roll of gauze ready, instead of the trauma pad.” Once the wound is packed, I cut two pieces of gauze about twelve inches long. Making them into a pad, I place one on the entry wound and the other over the exit; then wrap the ace bandage tightly and secure it.
The guy with the big rifle shows up breathing hard. “My name is Randy Chason. Is there anything I can do?”
“Randy, what kind of gun are you shooting?” I check the deputy for any more wounds, and finding none I remove the gloves and use the sharpie to write the time on the tourniquet tag. Moving over to the other guy, I say, “Jill, another pair of gloves, please.” She hands me a new pair, and I put them on before checking the next guy.
“300 Winchester Magnum,” Randy says.
“I thought it was something big. Check to see if these ATVs will crank and run.” I ask the second deputy what his name is.
He says, “Jerry Hunt.”
“Okay, Jerry, let’s check you out.”
Randy comes back over and says, “They’ll both crank, though they have several bullet impacts. I don’t know how long they’ll run.”
“Randy, keep a look out for any of those bastards that might return.”
Jerry has a skin wound where a bullet ran down the length of his arm, just cutting the skin. Jill has the gauze wrap and ace bandage ready before I ask and I look at her in surprise.
She grins. “I’m a fast learner.”
“Jerry,” I ask, “do you know if the ER is still functioning?”
“I think so. I can drive one of the ATVs. Somebody is going to have to drive Mike.”
Jill says, “John, get Randy to drive Mike. My boss lives down Echo Ridge Drive. I want to go check on her, if we can.”
“All right. I suppose if any of these bastards were still down there th
ey would have already come out here after us. We can go.” I call out to Randy, “Hey, can you drive Mike to the ER? It’s going to be awkward, I know, with him being unconscious. Jill and I are going to check on the folks on Echo Ridge.” Randy
“Sure, but I need somebody to give me a ride back here.”
I help the guys get loaded up and they head for Jackson. One of the ATVs is smoking pretty bad. I hope it makes it.
Jill asks, “What do we do about all these bodies?”
“There’s nothing I can do about them. We’ll let the police in Jackson know when we get there, but I don’t know what can be done.”
“You don’t think they’ll just be left here do you?”
“I don’t know. I just don’t know. Right now there isn’t anything I can do about it. Let’s go check on your boss.”
I turn the ATV around and head for the narrow road. There are several houses on either side of the road with no obvious signs of damage or struggle—until we get to the last house. Jill starts crying. Lying in the yard is the naked body of her boss, Julia Sanders. She gets off the ATV and runs over. She kneels beside the body. The angle of the woman’s neck and the glassy open eyes tell me she is dead, yet I check for a pulse.
I wrap Jill in my arms as she sobs.
Jill and I have had to fight nearly every day in order to reach safety at home. Now we are in an area we call home, yet we find no safety.
“I’m going to see if I can find a shovel.”
“Thank you,” Jill says between sobs. “I can’t leave her like this. She was always so good to me and everyone. John, it’s not supposed to be like this here. This is where we live.”
“When we get to Repose, it will be different. I promise.”
She looks up. “How can you know that?”
“Trust me, Jill. Just trust me.”
I leave her by her friend and walk toward the back where I saw a utility shed. Inside, I find a shovel. Two hours later, Jill and I lower Julia’s sheet covered body into the grave.
It’s now 11:30. Jill is still whimpering as she climbs on back of the ATV, and we continue toward Jackson.
