“You boys hungry?” Ben asked.
“We could use some food,” Eric admitted, “but we’re more thirsty.” Rachael grabbed some bottles and handed one to each, which they quickly guzzled.
“Go find yourself a rock to sit on and I’ll bring you something to eat,” Ben told them. “We need to get on the road ASAP, and I’ll explain to you what’s going on in Prescott on the way back. We leave right after you finish eating.” Ben moved to the other ATV and extracted two MREs from the back seat. After he finished heating the pouches, he grabbed two more bottles of water and went to where his sons sat. He handed each of them an MRE and water bottle and waited silently as they wolfed down the food. After they ate, both men sighed contentedly and rose to get into the ATV.
“Too bad about the horses,” Eric said to Justin.
“Yeah, it breaks my heart to leave them, but it would take too long to get home if we had to ride them.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Boys, we got people waiting on us that are going be worried sick at how long we been gone. I know you both love the horses, but we gotta get a move on before they come looking for us.”
“Ready?” Cory asked from behind the wheel of the second ATV. Rachael sat in front and Tim was squeezed into the back seat with the remaining food and gear. He was riding shotgun, holding Ben’s .308. Rachael held the AR, resting it against the side of the ATV.
“Let’s go,” Ben replied. Eric sat next to him in the front seat, his own AR resting on the side of the vehicle, and Justin sat in the back, doing the same with his rifle.
Cory led off, with Ben maintaining a good spacing distance. They drove until they reached Yarnell, where they stopped in the center of town in front of the Yarnell Hill Fire Memorial, a tribute to the nineteen “Hotshot” firefighters who died defending homes from a wildfire that burned out of control the previous year. Cory knew the park also contained a manual well, and they were running low on water. A few people milled around the park, apparently engaged in trading food and other necessities. One elderly man wearing coveralls approached the ATVs as everyone got out and stretched for a moment.
“Name’s Fred,” he stated, offering a hand. “Where you folks headed? It’s crazy traveling now.”
“Just passing through. On our way up north from Phoenix,” Cory answered, being deliberately vague.
“I hear Phoenix is burning. A couple passed through here two days back on horseback and said it was a living hell.”
“Parts of it are. But parts are under the control of the National Guard and the Phoenix PD.”
“I’ve got a nephew who lived there, but haven’t heard anything from him. I’ve been thinking about going to get him, but from what I hear, it’s not safe.”
“If you have to go, the best thing is to approach the city from the west, and stay on the southern side. The north is still controlled by gangs, and they’re not friendly.” Having offered information of value, Cory decided to get some pay back if he could so he continued, “do you know what it’s like to the north?”
“Can’t tell you a thing,” Fred replied, regretfully. “I’ve pretty much stayed in town, and I haven’t seen anyone traveling south passing through town, so I’m sorry, but I don’t know anything.”
“Thanks anyway,” Cory shrugged. The man returned to the park and joined two other men, and Cory walked over to where his group stood waiting for him.
“Let’s grab some empty bottles and fill up at the well,” Cory directed, pointing to the long-handled pump that sat on the north side of the park. They all grabbed empties, moved to the well, and filled as many bottles as they could carry. Cory took the remaining empties and dumped them into a garage can in the park, which, remarkably, was empty. They all loaded the bottles in the ATVs and left town, again heading north.
Ben explained the set up at the ranch to his sons as they drove. After another half-hour, they passed through the tiny town of Peeples Valley and eyed the post office with its door hanging open. The town was apparently deserted and they didn’t encounter a soul.
As they continued north, Ben noticed that the windmills dotting the countryside were all turning. As they passed ranches, they saw people working the herds. A few stopped and waved, but most ignored them. They went by large stands of scrub cedar and began noticing the occasional pine as they continued to climb through the foothills to the north of Peeples Valley. Snow-covered mountaintops began to appear in the distance, and it grew noticeably colder as the day passed.
Cory pulled over at the intersection of Highways 89 and 15. Ben pulled up next to him. “Why are we stopping?”
“Well, we need to talk about which route we’re taking. We can go up and over Yarnell Hill or take the more gradual climb through Skull Valley. What do you think?”
“We’re pretty fully loaded.”
“Yeah, but the easy route will take us another hour.”
“True, but what’s an hour matter at this point? I’m more worried about one of the ATVs breaking down. That’s a pretty steep climb.”
Cory thought for a moment. “You’re right. Let’s head through Skull Valley.”
“You want me to take the lead?”
“Sure. Go ahead. But let’s stop on the hour and let the engines cool while we’re climbing.”
“Works for me. You want to make Kirkland the rally point?”
“It’s about an hour, so yeah, let’s do that.” Ben pulled away after nodding agreement and they continued north for another hour before entering Kirkland, where they noticed a large group of people standing in front of a church.
Ben pulled over and Cory followed. Both men glassed the group from around three hundred yards away. An emaciated man wearing only a loincloth and a crown of thorns stood on the steps of the church, apparently yelling at the crowd. When he spotted the ATVs, he picked up a wooden cross around six feet tall and slowly moved to the middle of the road, where the rest of the group joined him.
The group moved slowly toward them, repeatedly chanting something unintelligible. The thin man led the group, dragging the cross behind him. Cory and Ben again glassed them, looking for weapons and not finding any. The group was unarmed.
“That one is missing a wing nut,” Cory said.
“Yep, he’s a few tacos short of a combo plate,” Ben replied.
“You know any way around?”
“Not from here. The only thing we could do is turn around and take the other route.”
“I don’t want to do that—we may not have enough gas to backtrack that much.” Everyone got out of the ATVs and gathered together.
“We don’t have a lot of time to decide,” Tim pointed out. “They’re almost on us now.”
“Let’s see what they want. But everybody get your rifles up before they get within 50 yards of us. I want them to understand we’re not going to let them close on us.”
Everyone held the weapons at the low ready. When the group reached the distance limit, Cory raised his AR to his shoulder, as did the rest of the group. Tim rested the muzzle of the .308 in the front of an ATV.
“That’s far enough,” Cory barked. The oncoming group faltered, then stopped.
“We’re here to save you,” the deranged man shrieked. “We have put our weapons aside. We only need the protection of God. Join us and we will enter the Rapture together.”
Cory examined the man carefully. He had the wide eyes of a fanatic. They gleamed with conviction and certainty. The others surrounding him included women and children, and they all looked emaciated, dirty, and wore tattered clothes. Several men had belts cinched tight to stop their pants from falling off. Many of the women’s dresses looked like tents on them.
“Putting aside your weapons is probably not one of your better ideas,” Cory yelled back. “Now step aside and let us pass.”
“You cannot pass us,” the man yelled back. “You must come with us and join our group and we will pass through the gates of heaven together.”
“I’m gettin
g a little tired of this. I don’t need you to get between me and the Lord. I cut out the middleman a long time ago. Now, one last time, step aside.”
“We don’t fear you. But, you should fear God, and we cannot let you burn for eternity by letting you pass us without repenting.” The man’s voice had grown threatening and his eyes continued to burn with the brightness of a frenzied glow. The leader started forward again, with the group following, most of whom looked doubtful and anxious.
“Tim, put a round at his feet and see if he’ll stop,” Cory whispered. Tim’s .308 was scoped, so he had a better chance of placing the shot accurately.
“Got it,” Tim replied. He sighted the weapon carefully, and with a single bark the weapon discharged. The man slowed, then stopped again.
“We don’t fear death!” he shrieked. “The Lord will protect us. Forward, soldiers of God! We will scourge these heathen atheists in the name of God and for his greater glory! Onward, warriors for Christ!” The man motioned for the group to move forward, and the march toward the ATVs began again. Another shot rang out, and the man spun to the ground holding his thigh. Cory looked back at Tim, who shrugged and aimed his weapon at a man who seemed as though he was considering moving towards them.
“You got him on the outside of the thigh and missed the artery,” Cory said. “Nice shot.”
“I can get that artery next time if he moves on us again. I don’t have a problem with that if he doesn’t stay down.” Tim looked back to the group and noted that one man seemed to be inching forward.
“Not a good idea,” Tim said loudly, looking at the man through the scope. “You may not fear death, but I’ll aim to wound and you can spend the next two weeks dying a slow and painful death. That will happen, I promise you, if you move forward. Now, pick up the trash and move to the side. Do it now, or you’re next!” The man looked uncertain for a moment and then began walking to the west of the road. The rest followed, with two helping the deranged man by placing his arms around their necks and getting the weight off the bad leg.
“You’re going to hell, and you’ll burn for eternity!” The injured man yelled.
“I’m good with that as long as you’re not there,” Tim replied. They watched as the group walked a little further, then stopped and turned to face them again. The wounded man, still looking at them with the conviction of a zealot, hopped around on one leg in a circle, with the aid of his followers, so he too faced the ATVs.
“You haven’t seen the last of me,” he screamed.
“You better hope we have. The next time I’ll kill you like the mad dog that you are,” Tim yelled back. He motioned his weapon, telling the group to move further away from the road. They were reluctant to move, so Tim placed another slug at their feet and said, “the next one goes into the preacher’s chest and you can bury him. I said move!” The fanatics looked at each other for a brief moment, then started shuffling away from the ATVs, moving further to the west.
“That should do it,” Cory said. “They’re far enough away so we can pass without them rushing us.”
“Let’s do it,” Ben said. “Those folks give me the creeps.” They got back into the ATVs and again headed north toward what was now their collective home. Cory was in the lead, with Ben following; they exited the town without further incident and again began the ascent toward the ranch.
“Dad, what was the deal with those folks?” Justin asked.
“Dunno. Guess they think the end of the world is upon us.”
“Well, it might be,” Eric commented. “It sure sucked being where we were.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” Justin retorted.
“Yeah, not until the neighbors started killing each other for food,” his brother replied. That stopped the conversation for the time being and Ben wondered how bad a situation his boys had gone through. He glanced in the mirror and saw that Eric wore a stoic expression, and then remembered how Eric, as the older brother, was always the more mature and serious of the two. He had been a high school football star who also excelled in school and was the darling of the entire town. Justin seemed to grow up in his shadow and maybe never quite measured up to his older brother. He was a good athlete in his own right, playing basketball, but never achieved the star status that Eric had.
Ben wondered how his kids would ever regain a normal life, or if that was even possible, given the situation they now faced. He glanced at each of them, shook his head, and wondered if he had done the right thing bringing them into this world. They were both good young men, and had been good boys. They were both rock solid, salt-of-the-earth people who exhibited nothing but honesty and good intentions during the entire time they grew up. Besides, they were both in Ben’s image. They were good with their hands, solid hunters and fishermen, and excellent shooters who respected guns for the tools that they were.
Ben shook his head again and wondered if they would be able to move off the ranch and back to his own home. What would the boys do for mates? How would they find a way to build the kind of life that Ben had with their mother? Both his sons were former Marines. Eric chose to enter the Marine Raiders, and Justin was a cyber warfare specialist. Would they both stay in Prescott, or would Eric’s insistence on testing the next dangerous thing lead him to wander the country, hoping to find whatever it was that drove him to constantly seek danger? Ben sighed, wondering at how life delivered you seemingly impossible choices at every turn.
They passed by several interesting rock formations tinged a reddish pink color and irregular in shape. It seemed that the boulders had been shattered and left heaps of smaller, sharp fragments that somehow remained in a cluster. As they approached Skull Valley, the scrub cedar changed to cottonwood and walnut trees. They were turning colors, and the scenery around them was a riot of red and yellow, with the occasional orange hue leaping from the landscape.
They drove past a small rural cemetery, where a lone woman stood weeping over a grave. Cory slowed and stopped, and Ben pulled up next to him.
“You think she needs help?” Cory asked.
“Most everyone does,” Ben replied.
“You want to go talk to her?”
“Okay, I’ll be right back.” Ben walked toward the woman, who turned and faced him as he approached. She was wearing a worn plaid dress and her faced was lined with grief. Her hair was long and grey, with streaks of white flowing through it. She stared at Ben with the expression of someone who no longer cared about anything, and turned away from him as he approached. Ben walked around her so he again faced her. “You need any help?” he asked gently.
“I needed help two weeks ago. It’s too late now.”
“Well, I’m happy to help in any way I can.”
“Get my world back for me before the power went off, and bring my husband back.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Well, then you can’t do much for me.”
“Do you need food or anything?”
“Don’t really care anymore.”
Ben stood next to her, wondering what to say next, when she continued. “Better off dying than going through whatever comes next. I don’t really care anymore. My husband is gone from a failed pacemaker, my friends are either somewhere else or won’t come out of their houses, and I may as well be living in hell as here.”
“Well,” Ben said slowly. “There are a lot worse places than this. We just came from Phoenix, and it’s a war zone.”
“Thanks a lot, but I don’t care about Phoenix or anywhere else. This is my home and I guess I’ll die here alone.”
She paused for a moment and then continued. “I was born on that farm over there, lived my whole life here, got married here, had kids here…I guess this is the best place for me to end my days.” She glanced up and Ben, stretched to kiss his cheek and added, “I do appreciate your taking the time to care, but I am going to stay here until my number comes up. I don’t like the things that are happening, but I like the idea of being anywhere else less.”
“Well
, I guess that’s your call. Thank you for chatting with me a bit.”
“You’re welcome.” Ben walked away reluctantly. The woman was a tough little nugget of a human being, and Ben liked that; but she made her choice, which he respected.
He told Justin to take the wheel of the ATV when he got back, and folded his large frame into the back seat. “Just stay 100 feet or so behind Cory,” he said as they pulled away. “And pay attention to the sides of the road. I’m going to try to take a nap.”
“Got it,” Justin replied, adjusting his grip on the AR. “Piece of cake. Rest well.”
As they continued north, they saw more horses in pastures and cattle grazing behind barbwire fences. The landscape grew rockier and the incline more pronounced as they passed by the railroad tracks that used to be the line between Phoenix and Prescott before the lumber industry died from over-cutting the forest. They crested a hill and began a gentle decline into Skull Valley; they noted groups of juniper trees and hilltops dotted with lonely trees in the distance. The sky grew dark and they all felt the chill of an early winter storm. Cory pulled over and Justin parked next to him.
“I think we’re going to need to find a place to stay warm for the night,” Cory advised. “It looks like a storm is on the way and I don’t want to try to drive through it.”
“Looks like that to me, too,” Ben replied.
“Let’s pull over the next time we see a farm or ranch with a barn and ask if we can spend the night.”
“That works for me.”
They continued their decent into Skull Valley and spotted a ranch house with a plume of smoke coming out of the chimney. Cory pulled over and said, “how do you want to do this?”
“I guess I’ll just go knock on the door.”
Prepper's Crucible: Volume Five: A Post Apocalyptic Tale Page 7
