The Search For Home

by C A Bird

  “How the heck do you do it? You make it look easy. I give up.”

  Roger had the fire going in five minutes.

  “Are we going to eat stew or save it? We’re running low on the Jerky, but there’s plenty of Pemmican,” Ashe asked.

  “Let’s splurge. Maybe tomorrow we’ll get another rabbit.”

  “That was a lucky shot.”

  “Skill, my man.”

  Ashe used a Bic to light the stove, and set a pot of water on it. “Yeah, but you broke the bow.”

  “I made the bow, and I can fix the bow. Call me Dan’l Boone.”

  “Does this miserable rain ever stop?”

  “You’re the one that said, ‘Let’s go to Kentucky.’ But this time of the year it rains a lot in North Carolina too. Especially since the war.”

  They ate their meager rations and sat side by side staring out at the rain.

  “I need to get back and find out what happened to Jess and the kids. Amanda must be so scared.”

  “Man, I don’t know how many times I have to tell you. You won’t be able to find them.”

  “I still need to try.”

  “They’ll catch you and throw you back on a work crew, or if they know who you are, they will hang you. The problem is, there isn’t any civilian population left in the towns for you to hide in. Any one running free is fair game.”

  “If I can find them, we can go west, where the government can’t find us. There must be free people they haven’t captured yet.” He threw another branch on the fire. “You haven’t said much about your family. Did any of them survive the war?”

  “I don’t like to think about it. I was married but we never had any kids. The divorce was bitter.”

  “I’m sorry, man. Did you have anyone else?”

  “My sister, an aunt, and a lot of friends at the school. I went underground at a mall in Danville. Don’t know what happened to the others.”

  Roger nodded and they fell silent, each wrapped in their own memories. When darkness fell they wrapped themselves in their Mylar blankets. “It’s getting cold, Rog. I’m hitting the sack.”

  They crawled into the tent, and fell asleep to Roger humming Elvis’ rendition of Kentucky Rain.

  ***

  Gunshots brought them instantly awake as they scrambled out of the tent into a dew-soaked morning.

  “That sounded close,” Roger whispered. “Get the tarp and tent down. Quickly.” Roger started untying the ropes that secured the tarp to the trees and Ashe was rolling up the sleeping bag.

  “Knock the fire ring apart.”

  He folded up the bright, orange, tube tent as Ashe kicked the stones apart and scattered the wood, embers and ash over an area of several feet. Stomping on the coals, he poured water on them to snuff them out, then spread them out even farther. Grabbing some branches he scuffed up the ground and covered the area with leaves. They stuffed their belongings into their packs, and faded into the woods just as they heard voices coming along the trail, from the opposite direction they had come from the previous evening.

  Roger was thinking about the movie Deliverance, as they heard the voices coming closer.

  “We need to get out of here.” Roger tugged on Ashe’s arm and they dove deeper into the forest, trying to put as much distance between themselves and the voices as they could. Roger glanced back as the head of a column of hikers came into view.

  His jaw dropped and he stood frozen for a moment in time. When he could take his eyes off the newcomers, he glanced at Ashe and saw a similarly shocked expression on his face. The men, or creatures, came into the clearing and the one in the lead raised its ugly head and sniffed. It kicked the leaves that carpeted the floor of the small meadow, turning up charcoal.

  There was only a light breeze and, fortunately, they were downwind from the others. Ashe wrinkled his nose as the rancid smell reached them. The men were tall, their bodies out of proportion. Their heads seemed large for their torsos, and their arms unnaturally long. When the lead man saw the remnants of the fire, he bared fangs instead of teeth. There were seven of them, four carrying hunting rifles. Their clothes didn’t seem to fit right, and they all carried huge packs that looked like they were over fifty pounds apiece.

  “Psst, let’s go.” They very carefully continued to withdraw into the woods, careful to make no noise. When they had gone a hundred yards, they heard the sounds of pursuit behind them. They’d been discovered. Terrified, they threw caution to the wind and sprinted through the forest below a solid green canopy.

  “What the hell are those things?” Ashe yelled as he leaped over fallen logs, crashing through the underbrush as though pursued by the devil himself.

  “I don’t know. But they must be from the same family ‘cause they all look alike.”

  They were breathing hard but showed no inclination to slow down. Coming to a hill that descended into a valley below, they could hear water running, a river or even a waterfall. Looking back, Roger saw a splash of color and knew they were still being pursued.

  “Down we go,” he said as they both went over the edge. They tried to hold themselves back from falling down the incline, but Roger caught his foot in a root and, flipping in midair, crashed down on his back, bounced up to his feet, and continued in an out-of-control series of summersaults down the hill.

  “Roger! Try to flatten out to break your fall,” Ashe screamed, as he ran down the hill, barely in control. He crashed through some trees just in time to see Roger’s pack flip into the air and Roger disappear over the edge of a cliff.

  “Oh shit, oh no.” Ashe skidded to a halt, just managing to keep from flying over the edge himself, and peeked over the precipice.

  There, ten feet below in an aquamarine pool, treading water and searching around for his pack, was Roger. A small waterfall spilled into the pool on the left and the river continued downstream from the pool.

  Ashe heard loud noises behind him, and whirling around, saw the men sliding down the embankment in their direction. One of the men raised a rifle and fired a shot in Ashe’s direction. Roger’s pack lay in the trees between the ugly men and him. Knowing he couldn’t go back for it, he didn’t hesitate, leaping off the cliff to the pool below. Hitting the water, he sunk beneath the surface, cutting his leg on a sharp rock, and waving his arms wildly, rose to the top, sputtering and coughing. Roger pulled at his arm and shoved him downriver.

  “Keep your feet pointing forward.”

  They slid down a series of algae covered chutes and out into the rapids of the river itself.

  “If this weren’t so dangerous, it could be a lot of fun,” Roger yelled.

  “Yeah, a real Disney adventure.”

  Both men pointed their feet downstream and floated, bobbing along the swift current. They tried to use their feet to push off of rocks as they were swept along by the rapids, but Ashe, still wearing his pack, got turned sideways and slammed into a protruding, algae-covered rock. Dazed, he slipped below the surface and flailed about, trying to swim. He swallowed several gulps of water and was panicking, when the river widened and the water slowed. He crawled out onto a low bank, aided by Roger.

  “Ashe… Ashe, are you okay?”

  “Where are they?” he answered, pulling off the pack and trying to stand.

  “On the opposite side of the river. They’re coming downstream. Go Ashe. Let’s leave these bastards behind.” They were exhausted, and their legs would barely carry them as they headed into the woods once more. Roger took a last look and saw the men standing at the edge of the river, pacing back and forth along the bank. They seemed afraid to cross… and that was fine with him.

  When they felt safe enough to pause, they sat on a downed log and bandaged Ashe’s leg. Blood soaked his pant leg below mid-calf. Ashe grimaced and sucked air through his teeth, when Roger poured iodine over the nasty, three-inch-long gash. He pulled the edges together with butterflies and wrapped gauze around the leg, taping it with paper tape.

  “I don’t think it’s rea
l deep. Good thing the first aid kit was in your pack. When we stop for the night we can inventory and see what we have left.”

  “There’s no way we can go back for your pack.”

  “No. Let’s just get out of here.”

  Completely soaked, cold, miserable and scared, they slunk away into the woods, to put as many miles between them and the monsters as they could, hoping to never see the likes of those things again.

  17

  Jesse entered the camp from a bathroom break out in the bushes.

  “Well, in case anybody was wondering, the rattlesnakes survived the war.” He sunk suddenly to his knees and then pitched forward onto his face.

  “Shit. What’s wrong with him?” The Yancey’s ran over to Jesse and started to pick him up by his arms when Sam noticed blood on his jeans. Sheri, Danny and Jimbo ran over to see what was going on.

  “What the hell?” Sam said. “He said something about a rattlesnake. Look at his pants.” Sheri ran to the Chuck wagon and returned with a blanket. They rolled Jesse over and slid the blanket under him. Then they carefully worked his pants down until they could see the bite.

  “Oh man, will you look at that? It bit him right on the ass,” Sam exclaimed.

  “Why didn’t he use the latrine?” Sheri asked, her heart racing with anxiety.

  “He was embarrassed. He always went out into the bushes. Damn! It bit him right on the ass,” he repeated. “Hey bro,” he said, looking up at his brother who was standing slightly behind him, “I think you need to suck the poison out of the bite.”

  Willy was backing away, shaking his head back and forth. “No…I… ain’t no way I’m sucking the poison out of his ass.”

  “Relax, they say that’s a myth,” Sheri said. “We just need to clean up the wound and keep him warm. Somebody needs to get Aaron right now.”

  “Hey Danny, take Jasper and go get Aaron, he’s out on guard duty,” Willy told Danny. “You’ll have to take his place until someone can relieve you.”

  “No, Dude. I just had guard duty before these guys. Somebody else needs to go,” Danny whined.

  “Shut up Danny,” Jimbo told him. “I’ll ride ol’ Jenny out and bring Aaron back. You just go out and take his place or you’ll answer to me.”

  Grumbling, Danny went to the tether and saddled up Tulip. Jimbo was already bouncing across the uneven plains to fetch the doctor. A crowd had gathered around the fallen man and several of them lifted him into the back of Chris’s wagon. Mark and Lori, who had been napping in their wagon, and were awakened by the noise, climbed in with Chris and Jesse.

  “Wow, it’s bruising up pretty badly,” Mark said. Chris handed him the first aid kit and he used several alcohol pads to clean the site, causing Jesse to groan as he tried to turn over. The wound had bled freely and Mark hoped it had washed out some of the rattlesnake venom.

  “It doesn’t look like a clean strike,” Lori said. “It’s torn open. He must have heard it and jumped just as the snake struck. The edges of the bite marks are jagged. That’s probably why it bled so much. That could be a good thing.”

  “I don’t suppose there’s any anti-venin in that first aid kit, is there?”

  Chris had dumped out all the first aid supplies and was rummaging through them. “No, I don’t see any.”

  “Damn. I wish Aaron would hurry up and get here.” Just then, they heard the sound of galloping horses and shouts, and a minute later Aaron climbed over the tailgate of the wagon.

  “Kind of crowded in here. Lori, Chris, you ladies mind if me and Mark take over?”

  “No,” Chris told him, “considering the location of the bite I think you two gentlemen should definitely take over.” The two women climbed out of the wagon and joined the rest of the folks at the campfire to wait until Aaron had a chance to examine Jesse.

  They were almost to Bloomfield and had camped in one of the cleared off areas around a natural gas well. The hills were green, but the vegetation was scrub, with very few trees, just a few scraggly junipers. This particular well didn’t have the rocking pump that characterized the oil wells. There was a large, green tank and pipes covered the well itself.

  Sheri glanced back at the wagon where her friend lay hurt. Trying to keep her mind off Jesse, she asked, “Do you think those things need electricity to get the gas out of the ground?”

  “Electricity is needed for some of the functions,” Greg Whitehorse answered. “The gas in this area is in the San Juan Basin, a huge natural gas reservoir that extends almost to my home in Arizona.”

  “Is the gas under pressure? Does it just flow to the ground?”

  Greg laughed. “If it were only that easy. The gas is trapped in tight shale. Have you heard of fracking?”

  “Hey, yeah, I have. But I don’t know what it is,” she admitted.

  “They inject water, containing fracking chemicals, into the well. It can be thousands of feet deep, as much as ten thousand. It’s called hydro-fracturing because it fractures the rock that contains the gas, freeing it to come to the surface. There’s a lot of controversy regarding fracking. There’s worry over the amount of water it uses, although it gets a lot of water back that’s trapped in the shale with the gas. Folks wonder if the fracking chemicals will contaminate their drinking water but the fracking is usually well below the aquifers. The fracking water is full of toxins too, and it needs to be treated or the water needs to be stored underground.”

  “I guess we don’t have to worry about it anymore, do we?”

  “No, I guess we don’t.”

  They heard hoof beats coming from the road and Matthew and Mike rode into camp.

  “We checked out the nearer edge of Bloomfield but didn’t see anyone,” Matthew reported.

  “But we didn’t get shot at,” Mike added. “So that’s a good sign.”

  “Damn, I hoped we’d find someone here. Bloomfield’s like eight or ten thousand people,” Sheri said.

  “Yes,” Matthew told her, “but it’s part of the Farmington Metro area. There’s about ten miles of highway between the two towns. I came here for a field trip with my geology class in Grad school. We studied their natural gas production. If there are survivors I think they may have congregated in Farmington, just like the people from the surrounding communities moved to Eagle Nest and Willsburg in the New Mexico Colony.”

  Greg grinned. That was the longest statement he’d ever heard Matthew make.

  His smile faded as he looked over toward the wagon, as did Sheri.

  “What’s going on?” Matthew asked.

  He saw Mark approaching the campfire from Chris’s wagon, a look of concern on his face as he joined the others.

  “Hi Matthew, Mike. We’ve had a little excitement since you guys left. Jesse’s been bitten by rattler. He went into the bushes to do his business and was bitten on the rear end.”

  Mark shot a disapproving look at Willy who was snickering at the statement.

  “Seriously Willy? It’s not funny. We don’t have any anti-venin so he’s just gonna have to fight it off on his own. Aaron’s with him now.”

  Matthew started off toward the wagon. “I’ve seen a couple of other guys with snakebites on my grandfather’s ranch. Let me go take a look.”

  He climbed into the wagon, returning a few minutes later. “From the distance between the two puncture wounds it looks like it was a pretty big snake and Jesse’s not a real big guy. That’s not good. It’s an ugly looking bite.”

  ***

  They took turns watching Jesse through the night. He spiked a fever, and was burning up, with sweat pouring down his face, even as he shivered violently.

  “It’s so cold,” he told Lori.

  He was covered by a mound of blankets.

  “Is Sheri here?”

  “She’s right outside, Jesse.”

  Morning came creeping earlier than Lori had hoped. She’d spent half the night bathing Jesse’s forehead with a cool, damp cloth and trying to keep him covered as he tossed and turned, thro
wing the blankets aside.

  In the cool of the false dawn, Aaron climbed over the tailgate to check on his patient.

  “Aaron, why is he still unconscious?”

  “I think it’s part of an anxiety reaction.” He put the back of his hand on Jesse’s forehead and held the stethoscope against his chest. “Some people, when they’re afraid, get hypotensive and nauseated, and tend to faint. Like when they get their blood drawn. But this is worse and it’s got me worried. Has he been drinking water?”

  “On and off, when he’s been conscious.”

  “We’ll try to get him up and see if he needs to pee. I’ll get a couple of the guys. Skillet and Sam are up and Matthew just rode back into camp. We’ll let it warm up out there first.”

  The baby woke up and began to wail and Chris stirred at the front of the wagon. Lori lit the oil lantern so Chris could see to change Karen’s cloth diaper.

  “I’m hoping for a Costco full of Pampers in the next town.”

  The camp was stirring, and beginning its morning routine. People kept coming by to check on Jesse as they prepared to enter Bloomfield. Sam, Aaron, and Greg lifted Jesse over the tailgate and woke him enough to go around behind the back. When they returned they were almost carrying him as they boosted him back into the wagon.

  “This isn’t good Lori,” Aaron told her. “There’s so much blood in his urine I could see it on the ground, and he has a bloody nose. Rattlesnake venom has a hemotoxin and a neurotoxin. Different snakes have different percentages of the two. If this rattler had a high percentage of neurotoxin he’d probably be dead already. He may be bleeding internally. I’ll get a volunteer to spell you so you can get some sleep, and they can ride in back with him while we go into Bloomfield.”

  The column got moving, as they headed toward the unknown in Bloomfield and Farmington.

  Aaron was riding alongside the wagon, and they had barely begun the final couple of miles to the city limits when Sheri, who was watching over Jesse, jumped out of the back of the wagon and ran to catch up with him.