by Steven Bird
Seeing Jessie mentally processing his demands, Nate reiterated, “Now!”
Pulling Britney’s foot out of the stirrup, Jessie muttered, “Slide back onto the saddlebags.”
Once she was clear, he boosted himself up and into the saddle. Nudging Hank in the sides, he clicked with his cheek and Hank began moving with authority, quickly disappearing into the woods and out of sight from Nate.
Turning toward the direction of the ambush site, knowing full well that’s where the Hind was going, Nate looked around, got his bearings, and thought, “Well, hell. Out of one bind and into another.”
~~~~
Running Hank hard through the tight confines of the woods, Jessie took the brunt of the tree branches when he smashed into them, hoping to deflect them away from Britney. Seeing a clearing up ahead, he brought Hank to a slow trot. Nearing the edge of the tree line, he reined back, bringing Hank to a stop.
Quietly dismounting, Jessie gestured to his lips for Britney to remain quiet as he glassed the area with the 3-9x scope on his Marlin .30-30 rifle.
Turning to Britney, Jessie said softly, “It looks like the burned ruins of what once was a middle-class neighborhood. From before…” he explained, walking back toward her and Hank.
Looking around and thinking of their options, he said, “I don’t like the idea of riding out into the open across those lots, but we’re painted into a corner. If they track us, we need to be long gone. These woods aren’t big enough to hide us. They’re the remnants of the development from all of these cookie cutter suburban communities. They left just enough green to let people feel like they were out in the country, but that’s about it.”
Startled by an explosive boom in the distance, Britney flinched and asked, “What was that?”
“It sounds like Nate is giving them a hard time for us. C’mon. Let’s not waste his efforts,” Jessie urged as he boosted himself back into the saddle. Holding the reins in his left hand while keeping a grip on his rifle with his right, Jessie nudged Hank forward and into the clearing. Feeling exposed and vulnerable, Jessie nudged Hank once again, picking up the pace and bringing him to a slow trot.
Seeing a damaged portion of what was once a privacy fence to separate two several-acre lots, Jessie steered Hank to and through the opening, moving from one parcel to the next.
“There,” he announced, pointing off in the distance. “There’s the lake, and there’s the bridge.” Scanning the area, Jessie saw nothing but destroyed homes. It was as if Genghis Khan himself had rolled through the neighborhood, destroying and killing everything in his path.
As Jessie and Britney approached the bridge, Jessie reined back on Hank, bringing him to a stop. Looking around, he saw a man climb out from underneath the bridge while holding an AK pattern rifle in front of him.
“Trolls,” Jessie mumbled.
“What?” Britney asked.
“Oh, nothing. I just hate bridges. They always come with surprises.”
Nudging Hank forward, Jessie rode toward the man, looking him over as they approached. He could see the man was wearing well-worn denim jeans and a green wool button-up shirt. He appeared to be in his early fifties, and his face hadn’t seen a razor in quite some time. Well, at least he’s not pointing it at us, he thought.
“Hello, there!” Jessie said, laying his rifle across his lap and raising his right hand to wave.
“That’s far enough,” the man warned. “State your business.”
“My daughter and I are just passing through is all,” Jessie answered with a smile. “We’d be obliged if you let us pass.”
“Where are you going?” the man asked.
“South of here,” Jessie replied.
“A lot of stuff is south of here,” the man replied while cocking his head to one side as if to study Jessie a little closer. “Where exactly are you traveling to?” he again probed.
“If you and a member of your family were traveling, would you want to give a total stranger specifics about where you were going?” Jessie responded. “Most folks these days have learned to keep certain details to themselves. I suspect you know what I’m saying.”
Nodding, the man conceded, “Yes. Yes, I do.” Leaning to look around Jessie, the man said, “She’s your daughter, huh?”
“That’s right. Now if you don’t mind…”
“Now, hold on,” the man insisted, interrupting Jessie. Tightening his grip on his rifle, the man walked closer, leaning to one side to get a better look at Britney.
“Are you okay?” he asked, looking directly at her.
Looking to Jessie as if she didn’t understand, she saw Jessie nod. “Yes. I’m fine, thanks.”
“Are you sure? You look kind of shook up. Don’t be afraid of this man,” the stranger explained. “What he doesn’t know is the fact that there are quite a few rifles trained on him right now. He’ll never bring that rifle off his lap to take a shot if he makes any sudden moves,” he announced with a smile. “So, if you’re in trouble, just climb on down, and we’ll get you far away from this man.”
“She's shaken up because…”
“Shut up!” the man barked, raising his rifle to the low ready position. “I’m talking to the young lady.”
Looking the rifle over closely, Jessie identified it as an AK-74M, complete with the three-position selector. Russian issue?
“She lost her mother just a few hours ago. Of course, she’s shaken up.”
“Lost her mother, how? Did you kill her?”
“No, those bastards who hide behind the name of the UF did it. She was on a bus that was supposed to be traveling to a new camp. There was no camp, just a hole, and a dozer. She’d be in it right now, too, if a militiaman and his group hadn’t come along and put a stop to it. Now, are you with the UF, or are you with us?” Jessie growled as he stealthily rotated the open bottom of his holster forward, cocking the old Colt pistol without drawing it. “If you do have buddies watching, they’ll just be watching you die if you’re one of them. Now, where did you get the ’74? Did they issue it to you?”
“Damn it to hell,” the man snarled. “I got it off one of them dead sons of bitches that came through last fall—them sons of bitches that burned out everyone around here. Now, don’t you go accusing me of being one of them. You’ll have to pull that trigger if you do!”
Seeing fire in the man’s eyes, Jessie relaxed his grip, lowered the hammer gently, and rotated his holster back into place. “I guess we’ve got a few things in common, then,” Jessie conceded.
“So much for the daughter story,” the man chided. “That fell apart pretty damn quick. So, on to the truth: them militia boys that came through—where are they?”
“All but one is dead. He’s running interference for us now so we can get some distance between us and those bastards in the Hind. So, if you would please call your friends off, if there really are any, and step aside, we need to get moving.”
Hanging his head low, the man mumbled, “Damn it all to hell. Them was some nice boys. Damn shame it is.”
“You knew them?” Jessie asked.
“No. Not really. But we gave them safe passage through the area. We knew where they were headed and wished the best to them. Such a shame, damn it. Such a shame.”
Regaining his composure, the man turned and waved to another fellow that Jessie had yet to notice standing at the far side of the bridge. “Just get her somewhere safe,” the man said. “You’ll see mostly friendlies for the next mile or so. They’ll spread the word to let you pass without harm. Once you get clear of the peninsula and south of the lake, make sure you don’t find yourself on the south side of 411.”
Tipping his hat to the man, Jessie nodded, “Thanks, but what’s on the south side of 411?”
“I…we… don’t really know for sure. But folks who’ve gone hunting in the hills down that way tend not to come back. It’s best to just go east or west when you hit 411, for a ways at least, before turning south.”
“I appreciate the i
ntel. Thanks and best of luck, friend,” Jessie said with a nod as he nudged Hank forward toward the bridge.
“You, too, mister. You, too.” The man waved as he watched them ride away.
As Hank carried Jessie and Britney across the bridge, Jessie could see bullet impact marks on virtually every inch of the green, metal bridge. Most of them seemed to follow a stream of fire as if fired by fully automatic weapons. He could only imagine what the man behind him had been through if he had been in the area the entire time.
Reaching the far side of the bridge, a younger man in his late twenties to early thirties nodded to Jessie as he and Britney rode by. “God bless,” the man said with a smile.
Returning the smile and the kind words with a nod and a tip of his hat, it warmed Jessie’s heart to run across what appeared, at least, to be good people with their fellow American’s well-being at heart. People had lost so much. Many of the survivors had lost nearly everyone and everything they had. Some crumbled under the weight of it all, and some soldiered on, doing what they knew was right.
As they rode on past the Dandridge Municipal Park, they saw the remains of an old, wooden playground that lay in disarray. It was as if people had been harvesting its wood for their other needs, leaving behind the skeletal remains of what once was.
With one final bridge crossing ahead to get them clear of Douglas Lake, Jessie rode to within a hundred yards before gently reining Hank to a stop.
“What’s wrong?” Britney murmured.
“Oh, I’m just waiting for the trolls to appear,” he replied, looking back to her with a crooked smile.
Right on cue, a man appeared from beneath the bridge and waved them toward him. As they approached, Jessie could see that he, too, carried a well-worn AK-74M.
“Howdy,” the man said with a smile. “You’d be the one they sent word about, I presume?”
“I guess that would be me,” replied Jessie with a nod. “Word travels fast with you good folks.”
“I reckon it does. I suppose they warned you not to go due south of 411, didn’t they?”
“I heard such a thing,” confirmed Jessie. “Might I ask why? The other gentlemen said you folks really don’t know.”
“Sadly, that’s true. Most of us who are left around here have seen and heard enough to know how to stay alive. We know the area, and we know everyone who’s left. We’ve lost a lot of people to those hills, and we’ve never been able to nail down exactly why. We’ve heard lots of stories, but most of it seems to be the rantings of those who’ve seen and done too much to think straight anymore.”
“What sort of stories?” Jessie asked.
“Nonsense, I tell ya. Anyway, once you get beyond this bridge, you’re on your own. Our little network of lookouts ends with me. Keep that in mind. Don’t assume anyone else is friendly. They may be, but they also may not be. You may not find out until it’s too late.”
“I’ve come a long way and managed to stay alive for a few thousand miles by doing just that,” Jessie said as he tipped his hat. “Best of luck to you good folks,” he added as he urged Hank forward.
“Likewise, mister,” the man replied as they rode away. “You take good care of that girl!” he shouted.
“They seem like good people,” Jessie said to Britney.
Mumbling in reply, Britney responded, “So did the people at the camp who asked us to get on the bus. They also waved and smiled as we drove away.”
With a sigh, Jessie guided Hank until they were well clear of the bridge, then brought him to a stop and suggested, “Let’s stretch our legs for a bit while I check the map.”
Dismounting and then helping Britney down off the saddlebags, Jessie removed a laminated map from his pocket and looked around to get his bearings straight. “Just a little farther south and this road merges with 411. Since that was Nate’s goal, I think we should set up camp in a position where we can keep an eye on 411 and wait to see a sign of him. I’m sure he’ll have the same thing in mind.”
“What if he doesn’t show up?”
“He will,” Jessie assured her.
“No offense, mister, but chances are he didn’t make it.”
“I dunno,” Jessie replied. “You may be right, but I saw a fire in his belly that gives me a glimmer of hope that he did.”
“Hope?” she chided. “Hope hasn’t worked very well for me so far. My family and I had hope,” she mourned, and tears welled up in her eyes.
Reaching out to wipe a tear from her cheek, she recoiled away from him. He looked down at the ground and explained, “I understand where you’re coming from. I really do. You and I aren’t so different. I’ve lost everything to this cruel, heartless world, the same as you. The only difference is, I’ve had a little more time to heal, whereas your wounds are fresh. I’ve seen a lot of suffering during my travels, but I’ve also made some amazing friends who stood up to those who took advantage of the situation to oppress others. Those people give me the hope I need to press on.”
Attempting to smile while fighting back her tears, Britney asked, “But really, what if he doesn’t show up? We can’t live on hope forever.”
“No, we can’t. We’ve got to balance our hope with our surroundings and resources. That’s a good question, though. Nate talked of a group where he planned on taking you, where you could be safe and begin a new life for yourself with people you can trust. He and I just happened to be heading in the same direction, although my exact destination is unknown. My plan was to tag along with him to help get you where you needed to be, and then be on my way from there.
“Without him, though,” Jessie continued, “well, that muddies the waters a bit. Let’s give him a day to get out of whatever bind he’s gotten himself into on our behalf. If he doesn’t show by tomorrow evening, we’ll need to get on the move.”
Once back on the road, the two kept their thoughts of what had been and what would be to themselves. Jessie kept a keen eye on their surroundings while watching for signs from Hank that he might sense something as well.
With 411 and the remains of the town of Chestnut Hill in the distance to the south, Jessie pointed and suggested, “Let’s move off the road now and hug that overgrown fence line to the left. Then, we’ll make camp on that wooded hill up ahead. We should be able to see our surroundings from there, and it will give us several ways to get away from a threat, as well.”
Once they’d set up camp, Jessie used a brown canvas tarp and a length of paracord to build a shelter for Britney to sleep under. Her exhaustion was evident, and she quickly succumbed to the weight of her eyelids, falling fast asleep.
She desperately needs a good night’s sleep, he thought as he gathered some forage for Hank to eat.
With everyone in camp settled in for the night, Jessie leaned back against a large oak tree overlooking 411 and got comfortable. Looking up at the stars that were appearing overhead as the last rays of the day’s sun faded into memory, Jessie thought, Nate, I hope you’re enjoying this view as well. Hang in there, buddy.
Chapter Four
Awakened by a loud roar and the screams of a young girl, Jessie leapt to his feet and grabbed his rifle. To his horror, Britney was no longer asleep under the shelter he had built for her. Running through the woods in the darkness, Jessie desperately shouted, “Britney!” as her screams seemed to get farther and farther away.
Barely able to see due to the canopy of the woods blocking the moonlight, Jessie crashed through brush and briars, ignoring the pain in order to keep up his frantic pace. Reaching the edge of the woods, Jessie ran into a clearing, only to find a large, black bear standing in front of him, baring its blood-covered teeth as the bear’s powerful paw struck him in the side of the head.
Falling to the ground, Jessie struggled to his feet only to find that the sun was now cresting the eastern horizon, his rifle was still leaning against the tree where he had left it, and in the first rays of the morning’s light, he could see that Britney was still safe and sound underneath her makesh
ift shelter.
As his heart rate started to slow, he reached for his rifle and began to wipe the dew from it with a cloth he pulled from his pocket. That simple act helped to convince him of the reality of his situation after such a vivid and horrifying nightmare.
Removing a small, cylindrical backpacker-sized rocket stove from his saddlebags, Jessie placed it on a small patch of dirt clear of anything combustible on the ground. He gathered a few dry twigs and small sticks, breaking them into the appropriate size for the small stove.
Once the stove was all set up and full of twigs, he heard Britney yawn and ask, “What’s that?”
“It’s a rocket stove,” he replied.
“I thought you didn’t think we should have fires?”
“Well, at night, a fire of any size could be seen from too far away, but this little guy here,” he said, pointing to the small stove, “won’t be seen in the daylight. It’s what they call a rocket stove. You put your fuel in this little tube on the side, and when the air is drawn in and around the burning wood from underneath, it’s preheated before reaching the combustion chamber, which makes it burn a lot cleaner. A small fire in one of these, using the right materials, will hardly produce any smoke at all. They’re perfect for cooking in situations like this.”
“Cooking?” she asked, perking up at the thought of a warm meal.
Smiling, he explained, “Yes, I figured you could use a good, hot meal. A few days before I bumped into you and Nate, I came across a trading post of sorts. It was a place where people in the local area could trade with those, like me, who were passing through. A few of the folks there were trading dehydrated food for whatever goods the travelers had.”
