by Chris Bostic
“Gravel. Maybe someone on the road?”
She shook her head. I was about to crawl to the edge of the church when I realized we could see right underneath it. The corners of the building rested upon stacked rocks that looked like they might crumble apart at any moment. There were two other rock piles midway along the sides, but that was it for support. Nothing else held up the church but divine intervention.
Strange as it seemed, I could look right underneath the rather large gap between the ground and the wooden sides. It also meant anyone on the road could see us too. Staying bent over, I pulled Maddie to the center support to give us something to hide behind.
She protested, but didn’t fight me.
“You seriously don’t hear anything?”
She quieted long enough to listen. The sound of tires on gravel was definitely getting louder. Then the deep growl of a motor joined in. Maddie looked at me with eyes as big as golf balls. They were about as white too.
“Just stay down.”
There was no doubt someone was getting closer. I hoped Mom and Dad had quit arguing long enough to hear them coming. I also hoped Dad was already at the front door holding his trusty rifle. For a mild-mannered accountant, he was a pretty good shot.
The cab of a black pick-up truck popped over the top of the hill. A pair of long antennas jiggled on its roof, instantly reminding me of police cars. Had the Feds found us already?
Maddie’s nails dug into my wrist as the driver charged up the rest of the incline and skidded to a halt, pointing the vehicle toward us.
I heard the squeak of the church door. Dad yelled.
CHAPTER 14
“Keep on driving!” Dad shouted. I heard his boots clomp down the steps. He stood facing the truck. I hoped he was as solidly planted as his feet seemed.
The driver revved the motor of the truck, but it didn’t advance. In full view, the dented exterior and rust over the rear wheel indicated rogue stranger rather than the Feds, but equally as dangerous in my estimation.
I peeled Maddie’s hand off to massage the red indentions on my wrist. She squeaked like a field mouse and squeezed tighter behind the rock pile.
I knew I needed to go stand with Dad. As I rounded the corner of the church, Austin and Mom were flying out the front door. She was brandishing a silver pistol that gleamed in the sunlight as brightly as her eyes.
“You’re not welcome-”
Mom interrupted Dad with an unexpected, crooked grin. “Marisol?”
The passenger door of the pick-up flew open. “Sunning Bear?”
“Yeah!” Mom jammed the pistol in her holster and pushed Dad’s rifle to the side. “You made it!”
“Sunny bear?” Dad said to no one in particular, as Mom jogged over to meet Marisol. They hugged and giggled in the middle of the clearing.
The driver killed the engine and climbed out. He was a mountain himself. No less than six and a half feet tall with a shaved head and a silver hoop earring. I thought I’d maybe seen his picture on a bottle of bathroom cleaning solution.
“Sorry. No hard feelings,” Dad said as the man approached.
As they shook hands, the giant said, “No problem, man. You gotta be careful.”
“Apparently we’ve been expecting you.” Dad gestured to the two women who were still hugging and carrying on out in the wide open.
“I wasn’t sure we could find the place,” the man said in the deepest voice I’d ever heard. “It wasn’t easy to get here either. Your wife must’ve given her good, outta the way directions.”
“Glad it worked out,” Mom said, joining the men. She turned to her friend, a fit woman in her forties, with a hint of gray at her scalp where the chestnut hair dye needed to be reapplied. “Everyone, this is my friend, Marisol.”
She extended a hand to Dad first, then the rest of us. “It’s a screen name, but I like it better than my real one.”
“Kinda like Sunny Bear?” Dad said sarcastically.
“Sun-ning. Running Bear was already taken.”
“Well, that makes much more sense.”
“Oh, Harold, don’t be such a fuddy-”
“Show us around, why don’t ya?” Marisol said, interrupting yet another family feud. I knew things tended to get a little snippy after a few days on vacation, but bickering on the first day wasn’t a great start—especially in front of our guests. Guests who would help eat all our food. The giant would surely clean us out in no time.
“Sure.” Mom turned her smile back on, and gestured toward the church. “We’re set up in there for now, but we’re fixing to go get a little deeper into the woods until, you know.”
“There’s a trail behind where our Jeep’s parked,” Dad added. “If you thought it was hard to get here, we can get really remote, really quick.”
“We’ll have some stuff to unload. You want to store it here?” the giant asked. “I’ve got a ton of supplies in the back of the truck.”
“Literally,” Marisol added with a chuckle.
“Great,” Dad said, and I wondered if he was thinking the same thing as me about the big guy’s grazing habits. “I noticed you riding a little low there. Must be a lot.”
The earring jiggled as the man nodded. “It took a while to pack up.” He sized up Austin out of the corner of his eye, perhaps admiring his eyebrow piercing. “Just the two of us, you know.”
“Yeah, I was lucky to have some help.” Dad walked around the back of the church to show them the hiking trail.
“Pretty small Jeep you got there,” the giant said as he lifted the tarp off a corner. “You don’t have another vehicle up here?”
“No, that’s it. Heard some griping about it too.” Dad shot me a sidelong glance. I didn’t deny the accusation.
The women followed behind us. The giant kept looking over the Jeep, maybe wondering how much stuff we could’ve brought along. Having no idea what kind of packing skills we had, he was probably thinking he got the short end of the deal when it came to sharing supplies.
“Spotted Fawn messaged me that there’s a tent camp they’re going to on a remote hiking trail…outside of Elkmont,” Marisol told Mom. “We could keep our stuff in the truck in case we need to bug out and head over there.”
“Might not be a bad idea,” Mom agreed. “It’s always good to have a Plan B. But it’s just as likely they’ll come running to us. Seems risky to use an established camp.”
I thought it didn’t sound any riskier than staying by the church, but I couldn’t fully appreciate the peril at that time.
“I doubt they’d come to us. I figured you didn’t want too many people to know, so I didn’t volunteer where we were headed,” Marisol said. “I do know she didn’t sound too excited about camping. I got the idea she was maybe a little bit pampered.”
“Kinda like my kids,” Mom said. “But they’re doing fine.” I doubted she really believed that. It was more the sort of thing parents were supposed to say.
Maddie wasn’t in a mood to show off. She walked over to sit on the church steps and rested her head in her hands while the others kept talking.
I tuned them out, concentrating more on the trail. It was a narrow, curvy strip of bare dirt tucked between the branches. There was no room for more than one person at a time, and it was going to be hard enough to carry a pack without slamming into trees.
I was hesitant, but intrigued, about where it could possibly go; however, the opportunity to find out didn’t come right then.
“Come have breakfast,” Mom said. “We can talk about unpacking later. We’ve just finished cooking.”
“Happy to join you,” Marisol said.
Mom led them over to the church. Maddie stood out of the way to let our guests past, before sinking onto the steps again. I lingered outside for a moment.
“It’s time to eat, sis.”
“No, thanks. I’m not hungry.”
I strode up the steps, but paused at the door. “You better eat something, fatso.”
“Hey!
”
“That got you moving. Just tryin’ to wake you up.”
I slipped into the church with Maddie right on my heels. She pinched me on the back of the meaty part of my upper arm, adding another red welt.
A pew tipped as I tripped over the back of it, clunking loudly as it rocked. All heads turned our direction. Maddie slowed, and I slipped behind her. With rosy cheeks, I kept my head down and followed her to the chow line.
The hot breakfast tasted good.
“Even Maddie didn’t complain about the powdered eggs,” Dad said, and I stifled a grin. It’s only because she’d shoveled her scoop onto my plate when they weren’t looking.
As far as I was concerned, it was a win-win. She thanked me for not ratting her out, and I thanked her for the extra food.
While I daydreamed, or maybe more like nightmared about the situation, the adults sat around clinking steel coffee cups. They talked about if and where to set up a garden and a compost heap. Mom remained set on heading off into the woods, but the new arrivals weren’t as convinced.
“Convenience breeds complacency,” she repeated her tired old line to the nodding heads of our guests. It was much harder to understand than simply calling us lazy bums. It wouldn’t have been the first time.
Despite her best attempts at persuasion, it became apparent that everyone else was fine with hanging out at the church a little longer. Even Austin, who usually agreed with every prepper thing she said, wasn’t completely onboard with moving out. But that was probably because it was going to require a long walk with heavy packs to God knew where.
“I want to go look for water,” Dad said. “With that bridge close by, there have to be some streams running off the mountain.”
“Fine, you do that,” Mom said. “I’m gonna work on the compost pit and set up a rain barrel with Marisol. If we’re going to stay here a while, we might as well do it right.”
“What about your garden?” Dad asked. “You were all fired up to get that going too.”
“I still am.”
“But what if we end up hiking out of here to camp?” Mr. Clean’s voice boomed inside the church, rattling the stained glass.
“Even if we end up, you know…” Mom gestured with her head toward us, still being as vague as ever. “We still need a garden somewhere…or several. Hopefully the others are all doing the same.”
“Surely they are,” Marisol agreed. “And I think this clearing seems perfect.”
“Isn’t that right, Harold?” Mom smirked at Dad. “Besides, there’s not enough clear space or sunlight where I wanted to set up camp.”
“So we’re going to have to hike back here to check the garden?” Austin asked.
“Well, to repeat your favorite word…duh.” She shook her head. “We’re gonna be hiking everywhere, no matter what.”
Dad agreed. “We’re not driving the Jeep until we absolutely have to.”
“Super.” Austin stretched out on a pew to stare at the ceiling. “How much fun is this gonna be?”
Mom stood up to gather dishes. She looked at Dad and motioned toward Austin. “I hope he’s going with you.”
“Yeah, I figured as much.” He ran a hand through his thinning hair. “You want me to leave Maddie here?”
“Not really. I’ll get more done without her.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Maddie said. “And Dad. I’m really feeling loved here.”
“You’re just missing Lukey,” Austin sneered. “Suck it up, buttercup.”
I had a hard time not laughing at hearing Austin quote our mother. Mom didn’t seem to appreciate it quite as much. She shot a look at us that traveled over to our father. He received the message.
“C’mon, kids,” Dad said. “Let’s get outta here.” He slung the rifle over his shoulder and hurried down the steps.
“Where we goin’?” Austin said as we walked out the door of the church into the sunshine.
The morning haze had completely burned off. It was looking like it was going to be a hot, sticky summer day in the mountains. It would be worse yet down in the city. A fellow needed to stretch to find something to be happy about, but not sweating at 9:00 a.m. was almost worth cheering.
“Let’s head back toward the main road,” Dad said. “I’d like to see how much water’s running in the creek.”
“Then what?” Austin asked, not sounding thrilled about the hike so far. Neither was I.
“Probably look around a little, try to find a smaller stream. We’ll need a steady water supply, but somewhere safe and secluded to get it.”
The stream part sounded better to me. Splashing around in the bubbling water of a steep mountain stream was my favorite thing to do in the Smokies. Listening to water ripple over the rocks, climbing over fallen trees and wading through the chilly pools was about as much fun as a guy could find around the area. It wasn’t exactly Disney World, but it was pretty close.
Before I knew it, we were halfway down the hill toward the main road. The driveway was steep, and I knew from experience going downhill could be every bit as tough as climbing up the mountainside.
“This sucks.” Maddie slowed to sit on a fallen log along the side of the narrow driveway.
Beads of sweat had already formed on my forehead, but the real heat was in my legs. “Yeah, my shins are burning.”
“It’s my calves that are on fire,” Dad said. “Good call on taking a break.”
“Sissies,” Austin muttered. He skipped farther down the road, disappearing around a curve to the left. No one bothered to stop him.
We sat for several minutes. Dad rubbed his lower legs and stood to stretch while I sat on the log next to Maddie. The sweat dried up quickly. In the shade it was almost cool, especially when a rare breeze sliced through the trees.
Other than the usual storm that popped up out of the blue in the summertime, the air always seemed still, like the wind couldn’t make its way through all the twists and turns of the mountains.
I stared across the driveway at a vertical chunk of exposed brown rock. Rather than the horizontal grain like the way highways were blasted through the mountains on the way to Nashville, these rocks looked crooked. The face might have been mostly flat, but the seams poked upward at a steep angle. I stood up from my seat to walk across the road and run my hand over the grain.
“Funny looking, isn’t it,” Dad said. “There’s a reason for that.”
I was willing to humor him. Dad was always in a better mood when he got to explain something, even if the explanation didn’t make sense to me.
“You mean the way they’re almost pointed up?” I asked.
“Yeah, it’s what made the mountains.” Dad slung the rifle over his shoulder so he could hold his two hands out flat. Then he slammed them together into a steeple. “Tectonic forces. The rocks were shoved together and rose out of the ground.”
For a change, something actually made sense. Maybe it was the visual aid. It’s harder to do that with columns of numbers that look like gibberish.
“That’s pretty cool,” I admitted.
I looked to see if Maddie was paying attention, but she was still sitting on the fallen log. She hopped up a moment later as Austin came sprinting up the hill, yelling hysterically.
CHAPTER 15
“Keep it down!” Dad whispered harshly. He held the rifle in his hands, pointing it down the road.
Austin slid in the gravel, his eyes wild. He panted like a dog. Sweat poured off his brow as if he’d run through a rain storm. His words came so quickly I could barely keep up. “We’ve got company. Soldiers all over the road, big green trucks, all kinds of Humvees.”
“Slow down.” Dad grabbed him by the shoulder. “Did they see you?”
“I don’t think so. I’m too smart for that.”
“Yeah, whatev-”
Dad stopped me from saying something I might regret with a series of questions. “Which way? How close? How many?”
“Headed right to left. That’s back toward town, right
?” Dad nodded, so Austin continued. “A whole bunch of ‘em. There were these big truck-looking things with trailers, carrying Humvees on ‘em.”
“And they seriously didn’t see you?” I asked.
“I dove in the bushes when I saw the first streak of green. Stayed up the driveway, never got down to the road.” He looked at his arm and proudly displayed a series of scratches that he’d probably use as a template for his next tattoo. “Sat there for a sec before booking it back up here.”
“Hmmm,” Dad said, very obviously reverting back into thinking mode. “Probably going to Gatlinburg, maybe Knoxville. But why wouldn’t they take the main road?”
“Sneaking up on ‘em?” I volunteered.
“Maybe, but who needs stealth when you’ve got power? And they’ve got it all.” Dad turned to head up the driveway. “Something’s in the works here. We’d better go tell the others.”
I didn’t argue with the plan. Running back up the hill seemed safer than taking on the army. Dad’s one rifle wasn’t enough of a confidence booster.
The blood was really flowing by the time we made it back up hill. It took a moment to regain our breath before anyone could talk. As the group gathered outside the church by a newly-built compost heap, Dad relayed Austin’s sighting to the others.
Marisol exchanged a glance with Mr. Clean before saying, “We’ve got a CB radio in the truck. Let’s go find out what’s going on.”
Mom exchanged a glance of her own with Dad.
“We have the two-ways,” he said, pointing inside the church.
“We’ll get better reception with the CB,” Mr. Clean boasted and pointed to the roof of the truck. “I got me them big ole antennas so we can really reach out and touch someone.”
“He reminds me of a truck driver,” Dad whispered to Mom just loud enough for me to overhear him.
“Could be…and that’s good. Trucker radios provide lots of valuable intel…especially on the cops.” Mom motioned with her head toward the truck for him to follow our guests. “We’ll get our two-ways out later. The CB can’t be traced either.”
