In hiding, he carefully observed them. Most of the groups were moving north just like he was and all but the occasional odd one were official vehicles, police or military, and a few state or city owned cars. Rarely a large truck or Humvee could be seen too. The vehicles were usually full of men and gear and most of the occupants appeared to be in army camouflage, although now and then one would be in a police uniform.
The only exception was a group of motorcycles that were instead heading south. There were nine bikes in the group and there was not a single “official” thing about them. Nine dirty looking men and two women on an odd assortment of bikes. Most had guns with them too and there was not a friendly face among them. He nervously watched from the cover of some underbrush as the thunderous mass passed him by and was relieved they were not going in his direction.
After that he thought caution was his best response. From then on, the man tried not to travel directly on the road, usually twenty to thirty feet away and trying to stay near cover if he could.
Late in the morning of the sixteenth, now on Highway 52 and somewhere east of Gravel Switch, the man approached an abandoned gas station. From its appearance he thought it had closed not that long ago. It was empty and lonely but wasn’t looted like another he had seen two weeks back down the road. All the glass was intact and the shelves were bare but tidy. The man assumed the owners probably just ran out of things to sell and closed their doors. As he shaded his eyes with his hand and pressed his face against the front door, he strained to get a better look inside. Then from the back he could hear curious sounds coming from behind the secluded building.
He cautiously peeked around the back corner. He could see a woman holding a small child with two older children standing next to her. They were all attentively watching a dumpster, the only thing of interest in the lot behind the unoccupied structure.
As he spied on the woman and her children, he could hear again the noise that first stole his attention, the sound of someone clumsily shuffling through the contents inside the container. He hadn’t really talked to anyone in long while and although he wasn’t sure decided to take a chance on them. This woman and her children looked safe enough. He was just about to step out and show himself when the man realized he had his hand on the grip of his pistol.
The very next morning after the shooting, the man took out the .45 pistol from his pack and put it on his belt, where it had been ever since. Then, of course, there was the rifle. He considered leaving them both out of view against the wall but quickly dismissed the idea. He wasn’t letting his guns out of his sight. After a few seconds of arguing with himself, eventually he decided to just keep the guns with him but try not to do anything that would appear threatening.
The man then stepped out around the corner and the woman immediately saw him, and her two older children instantly noticed the man too. They just stood there silently staring at him and the man could see the panic in them all.
“Daniel.” The woman finally and fearfully spoke while not taking her terrified gaze off the strange man.
“What?” came an echoing voice from inside the metal container.
“Daniel, come out … now.” The woman continued anxiously watching the stranger, unable to break away from his stare, “Please.”
“Okay … hold on.” The detached voice told her with some frustration.
Then the man could see a pair of hands grasping the rim of the dumpster and someone pulling themselves up and over the edge. A younger man, about thirty he thought, landed right there in front of the woman who was still wearing her nervous eyes.
“Nothing in there but cardboard and some bottles … what Honey?” The husband saw his wife looking right through him and immediately knew. At once he turned and faced the man. “Listen, I don’t want any trouble. I’m sorry about going through your stuff but we’re hungry. We didn’t steal anything. It’s garbage anyway, you don’t want it.”
He stood there for a moment studying all of their terrified faces and the man could only imagine what this young family must have thought of him. He hadn’t bathed or shaved in weeks and had pistol on his hip and rifle across his back. Abruptly he was reminded how he felt when those men on their motorcycles rode by. He could see the fear in them and knew that if the tables were turned he would be frightened too. At long last he spoke and despite his appearance, tried his best to sound harmless. “Take it easy, this ain’t my place … and I don’t want any trouble either.”
With those words, the tension visibly left the mother and father, and seeing their parents relax the two girls did too.
The husband then affably approached the man and offered out his hand. With a firm handshake between them, they introduced themselves and then the younger man proudly presented his family, the Hawes.
The father was Daniel and the mother was Trisha “Trish.” They were in their early thirties and the two of them made for an attractive young couple. They had three children, the oldest daughter was ten and her name was Sammy, “that’s short for Samantha,” the child correcting her father. The man noted the vivid pink T-shirt she was wearing. It read “Jesus Loves Me” with a flourished heart over her own. The second daughter was shy little Madison and she was only six. She spent the entire conversation hiding behind her father’s leg. The newest member of the Hawes’ clan was Daniel Junior, and he was only a month away from his very first birthday.
The father went on to tell their story and it was not a happy one. The five of them had traveled to Frankfort from their home in Lexington. Several Kentucky church groups were having a special rally and prayer meeting there for the welfare of this nation. They went to the meeting with another older couple, George and Nancy Edmond. They had all went together in the Hawes’ SUV.
On their return trip they heard on the radio about several “flash riots” that had erupted throughout the city. They attempted to get home but were turned back by the state police. They spent that first night parked at a rest area off of the interstate. There were no hotels to be found, most having closed months ago. They all slept in the truck that night as they had nowhere else to go.
The next morning the news reported that the riots had only worsened and the authorities were not allowing anyone to enter the city until they had been put down. After waiting another full day, it was obvious that the rioting wouldn’t quickly be ending. The news reported that the National Guard was now involved and that it would probably be a week or more before they could finally go home.
It was decided late on the second day that they would all drive across the state to Eddyville the next morning. Nancy Edmond’s brother had a farm there just northwest of town and it was the closest place they could go. Daniel had no family and all of Trish’s was in Baltimore. All of their friends lived in Lexington too and wouldn’t be any help at all. Although they couldn’t reach Nancy’s brother by phone, she seemed positive he would let them all come stay with him until the violence ended.
So they headed off for Eddyville, knowing they had the gas to get them there but probably not enough to get back home. They took the back roads as all the major highways were already thoroughly jammed. The group was forced to detour around the easiest and quickest route. The Bluegrass Parkway was completely closed by the state as it was littered with wrecked and derelict cars that had already fled the city. On the back roads and without their navigation system working, they had easily gotten lost and inexplicably ended up south of Junction City.
They were tired and hungry and had no idea where they were going when finally their SUV quit on them. The ignition went out and after two days of looking they didn’t find a single person or shop that could help.
By then the radio was reporting that the riots and fires in Lexington were out of control and much of the city was burning.
It was then the group broke up. The Edmonds wanted to continue to Eddyville. Knowing that she might be gone from her home a very long time, Trish said she didn’t want to be a burden on Mr. and Mrs. Edmond, or her b
rother and his family. Nor did she want to try traveling with her children on foot halfway across the state.
The night before the radio reported the government had set up a camp for “displaced citizens” near the military base at Fort Knox. Trish decided that was where they were going. Fort Knox was so much closer, and besides, they always paid their taxes and now the government could take care of them for a while.
Daniel wanted them all to stay together but he couldn’t change his wife’s mind, neither would the Edmonds budge. It was then the two families politely parted ways.
That was three days ago. Since then the Hawes had been slowly making their way to Fort Knox and essentially living off the little bit of food they got out of vending machines at various places along the way. Now even that was gone, the whole family surviving out of what was left in the wife’s purse, and that wasn’t much. With the exception of a few candies and mints, the Hawes girls hadn’t eaten in a day and their parents in two.
Standing there looking at all their frayed dirty faces, and even with all of his own troubles, the man couldn’t help but feel sorry for them, especially the parents who had to watch their children starve. He looked into the hungry eyes of the two girls and knew he had to do something. The man took off his gear and set his pack on the ground. He searched through it until he found them. He only had four left and he thought to himself that it was probably meant to be this way, that it couldn’t be coincidence. He took out the delicious fruit and without saying a word offered it out to the man’s older daughter.
The child just stared at it until her father ended her trance.
“Sammy, it’s okay, you can take it.”
The child hesitantly took it from the man but then gratefully and in a barely perceptible voice broke her silence, “Thank you.”
The man then offered another from his pack to little Madison who was still partially hidden behind her father. When the man tried to give the pawpaw to the timid child, she quickly withdrew from his advance.
Her father took it from him instead. “It’s all right. I’ll give it to her, but thank you.”
He then retrieved the last two from his pack and handed them to the husband and wife.
The man could see the parents were truly appreciative and he thought the young father might cry at any time, “Again … thank you.”
After their short meal they all talked it over and decided they should travel together, at least until they had to go their separate ways. The man was still determined to go on to Lexington even with Daniel and Trish trying their best to talk him out it.
The group didn’t get very far that first day. They didn’t start until after noon and within an hour one of the wheels fell off the baby’s stroller. With another half hour wasted trying to fix it they were on their way again and Daniel Junior would just have to be carried.
As they slowly marched on the shoulder of the abandoned highway, the man tried to talk with the haggard family. At first he tried to get them to stay off the road, closer to cover, but Trish said the man worried too much. As they walked a while longer and the conversation got friendlier, the man tried to tell them all, especially the father, his strategies for eating and staying alive.
They stopped to make camp a few hours before nightfall, the two girls were already exhausted and so was their mother. The baby was also cranky after being traded between his parents most of the afternoon.
That night they slept in an old abandoned farmhouse there by the road. The man thought it looked a hundred years old or maybe more. The front door and all the windows were long gone and the floors were badly warped. The faded and peeling wallpaper looked like it was from before the First World War. But it still had a decent roof, and it kept out most of the rain that fell on them later that night.
There was no more food to give them. All the man had left was his water. He had a plastic milk jug he found on the second day of his journey; he tried to always keep it full of purified water. They passed the jug around to lessen the ache in their stomachs and in a short while all the water was gone too.
He let the mother and her children sleep on his blanket and he and their father took the dirty floor. The man slept well despite being hungry. He had helped these people when they surely needed it and that gave him a good feeling inside.
The next morning, bright and early, the man was using the filter to refill the water in his jug. There was a fresh deep puddle right in front of their door. All of them had their fill and as the man topped off the bottle again they all waited for Junior to have his morning meal.
The man and the family walked along all that morning, today the young father doing most of the talking. The man had his Ruger out hoping for a chance to kill them some breakfast and most of his attention was on that task.
The senior Daniel couldn’t stop talking and it seemed like something was on his mind. His favorite subject was the man’s guns and the topic was constantly coming up again as the two walked along. He told the man how glad he was to be traveling with him. That it was dangerous out here and how he felt much safer with him around. He told the man how he had planned to buy a gun of his own one day to protect his family, and how his wife wouldn’t have one in the house with small babies around. He even once jokingly offered to buy one from the man. He wasn’t sure if Daniel was joking or not although he said he was.
Early that afternoon they stopped once more for one of their frequent water breaks and sat down in the shade of a tall maple tree. After they had rested a while, the man went looking for another rain puddle which he quickly found not too far from the road. While he was refilling his jug, Daniel and Trish were having a hushed talk. The man thought it unusual but promptly forgot it once they were on their way again.
An hour later they discovered another gas station just off of the highway, “Jimmy’s Gas & Go.” The large painted sign had come loose from its pole on one side and was partially on the ground. They all walked up the short drive that led to the abandoned building hoping to find something to eat, although from the first look of it the man didn’t think they would. All the windows and even some of the roof was gone, clearly it hadn’t been used in a very long time.
From experience the man knew they wouldn’t find anything but since they were here he had to check anyway. He gave it a cursory look through the front door of the building and didn’t see anything that made him want to investigate further. He turned, heading back for the main road.
Surprisingly, Trish decided she wanted to look. “Wait a minute.” She handed her youngest to Sammy and then cautiously entered the building through the same vacant door. The rest of them stood around waiting. The man knew there was nothing to find and hoped she wouldn’t take long. Without warning, there came a loud yelling, “I found something!”
He quickly ran to the doorway with the husband closely following and as he reached the entrance the man could hear more yelling, but this was coming from behind him.
It was Sammy holding the baby. “DADDY NO!”
That was the very last thing the man remembered and he woke to his head pounding. Someone had dragged him around the back of the building so couldn’t be seen from the road. He could see his gear and rifle were leaning against the wall and it felt like his throbbing head would split open at any moment. He lay there in the grass and after a while tried to set up, but his head was swimming. He thought to give it a little more time. From the sun’s new position, he could see he had been there a while and wondered how long. They had found this place about 1:45 and from checking his watch could see he had been unconscious for over four hours.
After a while he finally sat up rubbing his tender skull. He obviously had a concussion and there was a nasty bump and small cut on the top of his head. It didn’t seem too bad and he conceded it could have been much worse. He feebly stood on his feet and stammered to his gear and rifle.
They left my guns. He wasn’t so sure and his right hand instinctively reached out for his .45 in its holster, and the holster wa
s empty. In a panic, he checked all around but his pistol was nowhere to be seen.
Then looking down next to his gear he could see a large round rock, probably the very same one that caused the splitting headache he was currently experiencing. Trapped under the rock was a small piece of scrap paper and hurriedly scribbled on it in what he thought to be a man’s handwriting it said, “I’m sorry but I have to protect my family. Please forgive me. I will pray for you.”
The man didn’t think he could stand much longer so he promptly sat down again and as he did found himself hysterically laughing, although he really didn’t know what he was laughing about.
He pulled his pack over and emptied out all of its contents on the ground. After a thorough inventory of everything he owned he found exactly four items missing, his .45 pistol and an extra loaded magazine in a sheath on his belt, his jug of water and the water filter. Daniel Hawes didn’t even bother to take any of the accessories for his pistol. He left behind four more loaded magazines, the holster and cleaning kit, and two boxes containing another seventy rounds of ammunition.
With his trembling hands and a small signaling mirror from his pack he cleaned the cut as best he could, then stretched his blanket out under a tree, the mottled shade of a redbud blocking most of the late afternoon sun. He curled up under the tree and didn’t move the rest of that day or through the night, just him and his rifle by his side. At sunrise the next morning, he still had a mild headache but was feeling better and before long was up again repacking his gear and soon back on the road.
As he walked within view of the silent highway on that cool September morning he wondered what he would do to Daniel Hawes if he ever saw him again. He honestly didn’t know what he would do because while he was angry over what Hawes had done, the man also understood it a bit, even though he wasn’t a father himself. He didn’t know what he would do to Daniel Hawes but he was sure God would want him to forgive him, although the man couldn’t find any forgiveness in him at that particular moment. But the one thing he did know was that Daniel, like the man on the tree, had taught him a very important lesson for this new world. That lesson, never trust anyone.
Joshua (Book 1) Page 10
