HARD ROAD: Heaven Bound

by Terry McDonald

  “What’s the stuff in the plastic jars in your pack?” She asked.

  “It’s mostly dehydrated veggies and meats, a few spices. There’s enough food to last one person a month. It will last the four of us a week, maybe a little longer if we’re careful. That’s how long we can travel before we have to find a place to hold and resupply.”

  “Where we going to, Jake?” Al asked.

  “We’re going to a place called Haven.”

  “What’s there?”

  “It’s a sanctuary about a hundred fifty miles from here. I had a friend, a very rich friend, who got involved with the prepper movement. This was before I met him, and before the die-off, back around 07 or 8. He was worried about the failure of the financial system and was sure the world was going to fall into anarchy.”

  “I understand most of what you said, but what is anarchy and sanctuary?” Beth asked.

  “Anarchy is when authority fails, and there’s no group or no one in charge. Some people being how they are, fall into a condition of lawlessness and disorder.”

  “Sort of like it is now.”

  “Exactly how it is now. So you can see why a person, thinking anarchy was just around the corner, might get a little worried. My friend, his name was Avis, bought five thousand acres of land in South Georgia. He spent a fortune building and stocking a huge survival bunker. That is the sanctuary, a place of safety.

  “The financial system was shaky, but it never completely collapsed, so he mothballed the facility... Err... sealed it tight. After the first wave of the plague depopulated Australia, Avis became paranoid again ... No, that’s too strong a word, I should say, worried,” Jake said, correcting himself. “Avis came back to Georgia and spent more than a year and over two hundred million to expand the original facility.

  “There’s enough food, medicine and such to last a thousand people for five years. A lot of other stuff stored there too. Seeds, farming equipment, weapons and tools, everything needed to start over from scratch.”

  “You think it’s all still there?” Beth asked.

  “He brought a lot of the workers from out of state to do the construction and most of them are dead by now. He took other precautions too. As I said, he was very well off. The sad thing is, he came to Wisconsin to get his family, and they didn’t make it back to Haven. He was only in Wisconsin for three days when the plague came to the states. He and his family were among the first to die.” Jake paused for a moment before continuing. “Still, you never know, we may get there and find it ransacked or even occupied.”

  “If it is still there, it sounds like we’ll be in heaven,” Beth said. “When do we leave?”

  “Tomorrow evening. As soon as it’s dark, I’m going to do some scouting. Something has been bugging me since this morning, and it’s why I wanted to get away from your farm so fast. Those men weren’t packing much protection, and they didn’t have backpacks or any other supplies, not even water. It’s almost as if they were out for a stroll. I figure they came from the main road to the right of the narrow lane your driveway connects to. I’m going to check a couple miles each direction on the main road. If they were with a larger group, I doubt they wandered far from them.”

  “Why do you want to go back there?” Beth asked. “Seems to me we should just head to the safe place you told us about.”

  “That’s the way I am. I don’t like leaving something unknown behind me. We’d hate for something we could have avoided to jump out and bite us later.”

  Al asked, “You want me with you? I know the roads and houses around here better’n you.”

  “I think that would be a good idea,” Jake replied.

  Beth stood, pulling Janie to her feet with her. “I don’t like it, but I don’t know enough about things to argue with you. You make sure you keep my brother safe. While you’re gone, I’m going to do some cleaning. Can I use your little shovel thing to dig with, Mister Jake? I want to bury the poops we made and dig some holes for fresh ones. We had to go in your pack for wiping paper, but we put it back.”

  Jake turned to rummage in his backpack and removed the garden trowel along with a roll of toilet tissue.

  “Beth, we’re traveling together now. Anything you need, you’re welcome to check my pack. There’s more water in there too.”

  “I’ll wait till you’re gone. Ain’t no use stirring that mess around this soon after eating. Will it be all right to wash these dishes in the creek?”

  “Al and I will take care of them when we leave. By the way,” he added with a smile, “you said ain’t again.”

  When it was almost dark, Jake handed Beth a small bottle, which, with the cap removed, revealed it was an oil lamp.

  “After we pass the dishes back, stack the bags and my pack to block the opening before you light this. There’s a disposable lighter in a side pouch of my pack. Keep the flame small and it’ll burn for hours.”

  Jake and Al worked their way carefully back to the farm. Jake had Al wait in the shadows by the house, and went to where the bodies were. They were gone, even Willie. He could tell from the crushed ground cover that several more people had been at the site since they had left. Flattened weeds showed tire tracks leading to there and back to the driveway. He returned to where Al was waiting, and let him know what he had discovered, warning him they had to be extremely cautious. They walked slowly down the long graveled drive that led from the farm to the secondary road. The lightly clouded sky and the crescent moon provided, in Jake’s opinion, too much light. He used this time to whisper some basic survival techniques to a very attentive boy.

  “Anyway,” Jake said, “always keep to the side of the road with the most cover in case you have to get out of sight fast.”

  “Got it,” Al acknowledged.

  They continued in silence, watching ahead, but also constantly glancing back to make sure no one was following them. The freshly crushed vegetation growing on the pavement clearly revealed the tracks the vehicle had made coming to and leaving the farm. At the paved secondary road, they turned right in the direction of the main road. They walked a little less than a mile farther before Al touched Jake's back and broke the silence.

  “I saw light through the trees,” he whispered.

  Jake stopped and peered for a long moment in the direction Al indicated.

  “I don’t see anything.”

  “I’m sure I did. It was too bright to be the moon bouncing off something…. There, did you see it?”

  Jake caught a dim flash of light as the slight breeze moved the tree limbs. “Yeah, I did. Let’s get off the road.”

  Among the trees, Jake sat, motioning Al to join him.

  “What’s there?” he whispered.

  “It’s the end of this road where it joins Johnson road. Old man Loggins used to live at the corner. Somebody’s in there, and it’s not old man Loggins ‘cause he's nothin' but bones in his front yard.”

  “Damn, I’d hoped those guys I killed were loners. The missing bodies told me they weren’t, but I’m amazed no one came to the farm sooner. They’re so close they had to hear my shots. We’re lucky they didn’t catch us at the house. Al, you wait here while I check this out. You have the pistol I gave you?”

  “In my pocket,” he said, touching his hip.

  Jake retrieved the extra clip he had pocketed earlier and passed it to him.

  “You said you’ve used a pistol?”

  “We used to have one. It belonged to Beth. It got took by those men that raped her. She taught me to shoot.”

  “Okay. This is going to take a while. If you hear shots or if I’m gone longer than thirty minutes, I want you to run to the cave and get the girls as far from here as you can.

  “You don’t want me with you?”

  “No, you have to think of your sisters. If anything happens to me, you three are welcome to my stuff.”

  “Don’t let nothing happen to you, and hurry back, I’m so scared I’m shaking.”

  Jake stayed off the road as
he made his way to the home. The place was small, more like a large cabin than a house. Three battered US Army trucks with canvas-covered cargo beds were on the road near the short driveway. Smoke was coming from a chimney and now he was close, he could smell it.

  Several minutes of observation convinced him there were no guards posted outside. The windows were crudely boarded over. The little light visible seemed to be coming from candles. He made a careful circuit of the house, and still seeing no guards, crept to a side window to peek through a crack between the boards.

  There were many people inside the room, and judging by their scruffy appearance and lack of uniforms, they were not army personnel. Four men were standing by the front door, and as he watched, one of them opened the door and they went out. Jake ducked down and pulled his pistol, thumbing the safety off. Moments later he heard a vehicle crank and drive away. The aroma of cooking oil, wafting around the corner of the house, informed him the trucks were burning bio-diesel.

  He stayed down a few seconds longer before rising to peer back into the room. There were at least ten men and maybe half as many women still in there. The women were near the wood burning stove, and the men were scattered around the room in small groups drinking from bottles of vodka. Judging from the movements of the men who were standing, they were on their way to being drunk. One woman was carving a big hunk of meat. Slices of it were sizzling in a large frying pan.

  Jake finished getting a count of the group when a feeling made his eyes jerk back to the meat the woman was carving. His mind had rejected what he first saw in the dim candlelight. She was slicing the flesh from a human thigh! The dark skin told him it had to come from Uncle Willie. Jake ducked down again and fought an overwhelming urge to vomit.

  Again, the vision of frog legs, twitching and kicking in hot grease, strove to overwhelm him. Hotly aware of the pistol still held in his hand he went to the front door, raising his leg to kick it open, already envisioning himself in the room pulling the trigger, making them pay for a crime far from them in time and distance.

  Suddenly his mouth filled with the flavor of chocolate. Beth's disembodied face replaced the door. The face uttered one word, "No!", and disappeared. Jake's leg dropped and he moved from the door, shocked by the experience.

  He returned to the shelter of the trees near the house, shaken and shaking, recovering from the aftereffects of a killing rage unfulfilled. His irrational loss of control hit him hard. What was he thinking? He had almost rushed in like an avenger, putting himself at risk with no forethought. Those people were going to die, but not like that.

  He remained where he was, pushing at the emotions that had prompted his actions. He forcefully tried to replace the images of his dead wife and sons with visuals of them all together, alive and whole, but they were slow in coming. After several minutes, he was able to stand and go to where Al nervously waited. Jake related only what he had observed. As he was describing the cutting of the meat, he did lose it. Al watched in silence as he threw up.

  Jake finished and wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket.

  “Sorry, it finally got me. I almost puked by the window.”

  “I would have,” Al said. “How many are there?”

  “Fourteen. Five women and nine men. Four others left in a truck. Probably to take the bodies of the men I shot to some other place.”

  “Yeah, I heard the truck.”

  Jake rubbed his hands across his face, collecting his thoughts. “Al, I’m going to share something with you. Traveling the roads for almost three years now, I have come across bad people more times than I like to think about. I have one rule I try not to break. I kill them.”

  Al replied, alarmed. “How you thinking of killing so many people?”

  “I have a plan, but it’s going to take both of us to pull it off.”

  “Jake, I never killed nobody before.”

  “Al. Back during the long winter, when things were bad, and the animal population dropped, some people resorted to eating human flesh. There was no reason for it. There was plenty of food still in the stores and houses, and there still is. There’s damn sure no reason for it now. Game is plentiful and things are growing. These are evil people and if we let them live they will continue doing evil things. What if that was Janie or Beth being sliced for supper.”

  Al was silent for a bit before speaking again. “You say you got a plan?”

  “I do.”

  “They’re eating my uncle and some of them hurt me and Beth. I’m scared, but you tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

  “I like to keep things simple. The windows are boarded-over, screwed in place. The only easy ways out is the front and back doors. Before I came to your place this morning, I spent the night at another farmhouse not far from here. Blue with black shutters, and two outbuildings, one concrete block and the other wood.”

  “I know the place,” Al said.

  “Good. I found two containers full of gasoline and hid them in case I ever came back this way and had a need for them. I say we set fire to the place and shoot them as they come out.”

  “That’s a lot of people to be shooting,” Al said.

  “It should be me doing all the shooting. The back door opens outward. I’m sure I can block it. They’ll panic and run for the doors in a stampede, but the only way out will be my door.”

  “By the time we get the gas maybe they’ll be asleep,” Al said.

  “And don’t forget drunk,” Jake said.

  When they returned, the moon had set, leaving the night appreciably darker. They found a clear spot close to the house. Jake set the gas cans down and flexed his shoulders. The five-gallon metal container was too much of a load for Al’s slight frame and Jake had carried both cans most of the way.

  He checked the house again before finalizing their plans. There was no light from inside the house, and inexplicably, he found no guards posted. Everyone was asleep. After estimating the length needed, a rickety lean-to shed behind the house yielded a plank to wedge under the doorknob of the back door to the base of a post supporting the roof over the small landing.

  He returned to where Al waited. As he passed by the trucks, he looked to see if there was anything worth taking. All he managed was to feel stupid. Each truck had a five-gallon fuel container in the cargo bed.

  “Once we get started, we have to move fast and quiet,” Jake began. “You begin at the front door pouring gas around the right side to the back door. I’ll start at the back door and pour around the other side to the front. I figure most of them are going to try the front first. Once we start pouring, it shouldn’t take us more than thirty seconds to get it done. Pour a solid stream with no breaks and do not slosh any on you. Can you hoot like an owl?”

  “Yep,” he answered, “just like a real owl.”

  “Okay, that will be the signal you’re ready for me to light the gas. I have the back door wedged so they will have to come out my door. Just in case they break through yours, stay back from the house about fifteen feet, and lined straight in front of the door. If they do break through, start shooting, use a two-hand grip to fire. The chest is best, but aim for where the rib cage and stomach meet. That’s biggest target.”

  “Beth taught me to shoot with two hands. Let’s do it. I don’t want to think long about it.”

  “Quick is best,” Jake, agreed. “Remember, if you have to shoot, keep firing until whoever you’re shooting at hits the ground. Don’t let them get to you.”

  They each hefted a can. “When I get to the back door I’ll hoot to let you know to start pouring,” he continued. “As soon as you’re at the back and in position, you hoot, and that will be the signal for me to light it. The house is sided with cedar shakes. Once the flames hit them, they’re going to burn almost as fast as the gas.”

  Jake hurried to his position at the back door. Taking a deep breath, he removed the cap from his can and did his best imitation of an owl hoot. Taking another deep breath, he tilted the can and began pouring
. The fuel had a strong, disagreeable odor, like gasoline does when it sits too long. From experience, Jake knew it would still burn. He thoroughly soaked the area in front and beside the door before continuing around the side towards the front of the house, pouring a heavy unbroken stream as he went. He felt it took forever to reach the front. Al had done a good job pouring around the front door.

  Seconds later he heard the hoot from Al. Jake lit one of the few wooden matches he had left and tossed it. It sputtered and went out before reaching the gas. He quickly struck another. This time the old gas lit with a muted whoosh, spreading across the front porch and around both sides of the house faster than he thought it would. He positioned himself with his pistol in a two-handed grasp pointed at the door and waited.

  He was right the siding would burn fast. Within minutes, the house was flaming so hot he had to back further away. He waited for what seemed an eternity before hearing a blood-curdling scream. A woman burst through the front door followed by an outpouring of smoke. Jake fired instantly and she dropped, still screaming. Almost immediately, another person came out. Jake fired twice and the body fell.

  Jake's heart was racing, and the adrenaline rush seemed to make time stand still. He heard more screaming from inside, and readied himself for another rush at the door. It did not happen. The woman he had gut shot was down but still squalling. He shot her twice more and swung back to cover the door.

  Even though he heard terrified screams and shouts from inside, no one was coming out his door. The fire broke through the roof and the house erupted in flames, brightly lighting the front yard. Smoke was pouring out the front door.

  Finally, shrieking like an enraged animal, a man burst through the door opening, his clothes flaming, blindly charging directly at him. It took four shots to drop him. The man managed to get close enough for Jake to see his hairless head and blackened, blistered face, before he fell, inches from his feet.

  He heard four shots in quick succession from Al’s position at the rear.