The Search For Home

by C A Bird

  “Yeah, I’m Mark. We’re very glad to finally see somebody. We’ve come cross-country from Raton and every town along the way has been deserted. Is there anyone in Bloomfield?”

  “Not really. Almost everyone has drawn back to Farmington. We’re trying to stay together because it’s easier to trade and set up markets. We don’t have that many vehicles and it would be hard to get around if we were spread out too far.”

  “How many of you are there?” Mark asked him.

  He crossed his arms, a puzzled look on his face. “Gee, I don’t really know but I think there are a few thousand of us.”

  Jimbo whistled. “Wow, that’s great. How did so many survive?”

  Don shrugged his shoulders, “Not sure. Some people stayed in their basements for a while. But even the people that stayed outside did pretty well. Our main problem was each other. As soon as the trucks stopped rolling into town with food, people panicked and started fighting each other. The Metropolitan area around Farmington, Bloomfield and Aztec probably had sixty thousand people but I’ll bet there’s not more than five or six thousand left.”

  “Do you guys have a central government? Someone in charge?”

  “Farmington’s about ten miles from here. A lot of folks live in the house they lived in before the war, but a quite a few have moved closer to the downtown area. When you come into town you’ll be south of the city. There’s a group of people living in the hospital, and in homes around that area. It’s close to the rivers, so it’s a lot easier to transport water. Just ask somebody and they’ll tell you where the Civic Center is. The guy in charge is named Jeff Hunt. If it hadn’t been for Jeff there might not be anybody left. He stepped in and got people to quit fighting and to start cooperating. You guys’ll be safe and nobody will bother you as long as you don’t go in waving your weapons around.”

  “They aren’t gonna try and take them from us, are they?”

  “Naw, everybody in town’s armed. I’m just gonna hang out here at my guard post, and make sure you’re not being followed by any bad guys.” Don grinned and waved them by.

  “Okay. Well, thanks Don, we’re just passing through but we’ll probably see you in town. We’ll be here for a few days.”

  Mark jogged back to his wagon and climbed up on the seat, a big smile on his face. “We’ve finally found civilization,” he told Lori. “Don says Farmington has thousands of people.”

  Mark shook the reins and the wagon train moved off to the west. Everybody’s spirits lifted as they looked forward to meeting new people and replenishing their supplies.

  Sam and Willy rode by the wagon. “We’re gonna go on ahead and start dickering for some horseflesh. We’ll see you guys in town.”

  Lori looked a little worried. “Do you think it’s safe to separate?”

  “I don’t think it’s a problem. Don seemed like a reasonable guy. I think it’ll be okay. You guys hightail it back here at the first sign of trouble.”

  Lori wasn’t completely convinced, having gotten used to being security conscious. Most of the ten miles between Bloomfield and Farmington were fairly built up, with stores and businesses along both sides of the road. It looked to Mark like this highway had been recently worked on, prior to the war. The weeds and shrubs were thick along the side of the road but the road itself still remained fairly clear of vegetation. The sun blazed overhead and Matthew and Einstein crawled out of the wagons as the canvas heated and the interior became too hot to sleep.

  Being anxious to get to town, they pushed the horses, reaching the outer limits of the city of Farmington in only four hours. As they got closer to Farmington they began to see people. Everyone waved to them as they rode along and Lori began to feel safer when no one exhibited aggressive behavior. The river was visible to their right and fields on both sides of the road were planted in crops. Highway 64 curved northward and crossed the river, and along the river banks, Mark could see a huge field filled with tents and booths.

  “Lori look, there must be five hundred people over there. It looks like a gigantic farmers market. I guess that’s as good as any place to get some information about where we can park the wagons.” They took an off ramp to the right and found a side street that descended down to the fields, pulling up the wagons along the side of the road. Mike, Danny and Carlos took up positions around the wagons, nonchalantly keeping an eye out for any problems, as Mark and Lori walked out onto the field after taking Ashley and Kevin to Chris’s wagon, where they would be easier to protect.

  They maintained their alertness as they approached the crowds in the field, who were milling about the displays and retail booths, but everyone nodded in a friendly manner. In a few minutes Mark and Lori were more at ease. A small group of three men and two women were standing in a circle talking and laughing. They were all neatly groomed, the men clean-shaven and wearing their hair short, unlike Mark, who sported a three day old beard and long hair below his ears.

  Mark waited patiently for one man to finish talking and then asked about accommodations.

  “Hi folks. My name’s Mark and this is my wife Lori. We just came into town and were wondering where we might find a safe place to park our wagons. We need a camp, as we’ll be sleeping in them for a few days.”

  He was careful to keep his hands in sight.

  One of the men reached out a hand, giving Mark’s a firm squeeze. “I’m Craig. This is Bobby, Sheila, Phyllis and Rhett. Welcome to Farmington. Where’d you come from?”

  “Originally from Eagle Nest, but we swung by Raton to drop off some people that had lived there before the war. It’s been a long trip, and we just want a place to rest up before we head on to California.”

  Phyllis shook her head, her blonde, pony tail wagging back and forth. “Why would you want to go to California? They probably got hit real hard.”

  “Most of us were living there when the Chinese attacked us. We’re trying to find out how people are doing. You know, who survived. And we want to know if the Chinese have followed the attack by invading our shores.”

  “Yeah,” Rhett said, “it’s not unreasonable to think they had a plan. A lot of us have been wondering the same thing. If you come back this way, maybe you can fill us in.”

  Craig pointed past the tents on the far side of the clearing. “The best place for you to hole up is just east of the market. The Shamrock Ranch has a lot of room for your wagons. I’m sure Jack Heifert will let you camp in the big, cleared area by the river. We all keep our horses boarded over there.”

  Mark thanked them and waved up at the road where the wagons were parked. Mike saw them and got everyone moving. In an hour, for a reasonable fee, they had received permission to camp, and had circled up in a large meadow by a crook in the river.

  Lori looked over the camp. “I feel secure for the first time since we left Willsburg.”

  Matthew walked up beside her and Mark. “Yes, but I’ll schedule sentries anyway.”

  “You’re right, Matthew.” Mark looked around at the thriving town. “No matter how civilized it looks, we’ve learned to never let down our guard.”

  20

  Jon stood with his back against the tree, listening carefully for the footsteps he thought he’d heard in the distance. Peeking out from around the trunk, he could see three men coming out of the alley, obviously following him. He’d always been careful when he left the hotel, to go in a direction away from his house. This morning he had skirted Fort Lewis College and entered the woods on the east side of town. He was angry and tired of playing games with this pampered group of corporate animals. He spun around, and crouching low, disappeared into the brush and trees behind him. In three minutes he had lost them.

  The traps held more game than at any time in the past month, which suited Jon because it would shorten up the time he spent hunting that day. He was frantic to resume his search for a working vehicle. Stuffing the carcasses in his old satchel, he circled to the south and headed back toward town. He’d already searched the garages, and t
ried to start the cars, in the upscale homes along the east side of town… and had been frustrated once again.

  Staying well south of the downtown area, he turned west until he came to the river and, taking the first bridge, headed into neighborhoods he hadn’t yet searched. He’s already stashed a new car battery in the bushes at the end of the bridge. He picked it up on his way, and checked out the first garage he came to.

  All afternoon he hauled the heavy battery from garage to garage, searching the houses for keys and hooking the battery up to each car he found, praying one of them would start. His major concern was that the battery he was using was dead, but he had no way of knowing that.

  His time was running out… when his prayers were answered.

  In the eleventh garage he found a Ford Taurus, and after swapping out the battery, turned the key… and the engine roared to life. He was scared to death someone would hear it running, but didn’t dare turn it off until it had idled for fifteen minutes. The car had just less than a quarter of a tank of gas. He would have to find more, or it was going to be a short-lived getaway. It had been almost two years since the war and he worried that the gas may have gone bad, but the engine seemed to be running smoothly. He shut it down, hid the keys, and headed back for the Parker Hotel.

  ***

  Carelessness can undermine even the best intentioned men. A week after finding the car, and going home to tell Mary the news, Jon exited his garage through the small door in the back. He snuck across the backyard, slipped into his neighbor’s yard and went over the fence. As his feet touched the ground, rough hands grabbed his arms and the barrel of a gun was jammed against the back of his head.

  “Where have you been Jon boy? I could swear we heard children laughing.”

  “You guys are crazy. I was just checking my traps.”

  “We may be crazy, but were not stupid. I heard somebody and it wasn’t you.”

  The wind swirled the dirt around the weeds that poked up through Palmer St. and caused the traffic lights in the intersection to sway wildly. Lee pulled open the rear door of the hotel and gave Jon a shove in the back, sending him stumbling into the lobby. The four men paused inside the door to allow their eyes to adjust to the dim lighting and then crossed the lobby past the registration desk to where Ben, Jessica and Vance were sitting in chairs around a beautiful, polished table.

  “You were right Ben,” Michael said. “We followed him and he led us to a house on the north side where he disappeared inside. We figure he went down to the basement because we looked in all the windows and we couldn’t see anybody. But we heard kids laughing, so we know he has somebody stashed down there.”

  Ben frowned, “Oh, Jon boy, do you know how much trouble you’re in? Have you been stealing food from us and taking it to someone else?”

  Jon stood clasping his hands in front of him, his head lowered. He remained stubbornly silent.

  Ben jumped to his feet, and putting his hands on John’s chest, gave him a shove that sent him tumbling backwards onto the floor. Then he raced forward and stood over Jon, screaming at him, “You stupid fuck! I trusted you. We could have killed you the minute we found you, but I let you stay alive so you could hunt to bring back food for us, and now I find out you been holding out on me.”

  Jon scrambled back on his feet and elbows until his head and shoulders came up against the wall. He tried to sit up, but Ben kicked him in the hip, spinning him sideways. Falling back to the floor, he curled into a ball on his side, clasping his hands over his head to protect his face.

  “I’m sorry, Ben, I had to feed my family.”

  “You’ve been here all along haven’t you? You even lied about that.” Ben’s face was red. He shook back his hair and crossed his arms. “We’re going to pick up that family of yours and so help me God if they’re not half starved, I’m going to kill you all.” He turned to the men and waved toward the door. “Go get them and bring ‘em back here.”

  Jon tried to jump to his feet, but Ben slammed him back against the wall. Harris stepped forward, and he and Ben each grabbed one of Jon’s arms and held him, as three guys hustled out the front door to fetch Mary and the boys. Jon struggled and tried to break free. He pulled one arm loose but two other men stepped in and helped to subdue him. He lifted his feet in the air, trying to kick Ben.

  “Take him up and lock him in his room,” Ben commanded.

  Jon still struggled, more scared than he’d ever been in his life. They wrestled him across the room, but before they entered the hallway that led to the staircase, Ben said “Hey, listen. What the hell is that?” They all stood for a moment listening to what sounded like a swarm of bumble bees.

  “Christ, it’s motorcycles.” Ben and Jessica hurried to the windows.

  “There’s a hundred of them! They’re right outside and they’ve got Paul and the guys I sent for Jon’s family. The assholes led them right to us.” He and Jessica took off running for the back of the hotel and the other two men, releasing Jon, followed after them like scared jackrabbits. Jon scrambled into the solarium and hid behind a chair. The front door slammed open and, between the leaves, Jon saw a vision from hell. An enormous, wild-eyed apparition stormed through the doors, followed by a score of filthy, rough-looking characters. The giant stopped in the middle of the room and started to look around, but just before his eyes rested on Jon’s hiding place, there was a commotion from the hallway and Ben, Jessica and several others were herded back into the lobby.

  “Lookee what we found Chase. They were trying to sneak out the back.”

  “Get off me you asshole.” Ben tried to jerk away from the foul smelling man that held his arm. The man delivered a tremendous kidney punch and Ben fell to his knees gasping.

  “You need to have a little more respect, man.”

  Chase just stood and stared at Jessica. “Strip her.” Jessica screamed and tried to dart back into the hallway but she was grabbed by Bing and two others. She fought back but was no match for these men and in less than a minute, stood naked before them.

  “Turn her around boys.” He walked up behind her and looked over his shoulder. “You guys can have them.” And he gestured toward Ben and the others as he unzipped his pants and grabbed Jessica.

  Ben and the other men were fighting their assailants and Jon knew he would never get a better chance to escape. He jumped to his feet and flew through the open door, past dozens of motorcycles, leather clad gang members with chains hanging from their belts, and a few women. One hundred yards to the North, he ducked between two buildings, running as fast as he could. He had gained a few moments as the surprised cyclists didn’t know what was happening. Now he heard shouts, and motorcycles starting up, as the pursuit began.

  Glancing back over his shoulder he saw the bikes flying around the corner, accelerating in his direction. He juked left, running through a side yard and out onto another street, only to find more motorcycles roaring up from the South, just two hundred yards away. He fled directly across street and into another side yard. This time there was a fence and he scaled it quickly, his heart in his throat.

  “Dammit!” someone shouted. “Get around to the next street.”

  If he stopped to try and hide, he knew they would find him. Climbing over fence after fence to slow his pursuers, he made it to the river. He turned and ran north, through a small park and across a wide, wooden, pedestrian bridge. Turning right, he passed a skate park, and climbed an embankment where he jumped over a metal railing and sprinted across the street. Motorcycles had followed across the bridge but were unable to climb the steep embankment. They sped back a hundred yards to a ramp that climbed up to the street, and immediately resumed pursuit. But Jon had disappeared between houses and climbed farther up the hill into a maze of apartment complexes. The cyclists cruised up and down the street, trying to catch a glimpse of the fleeing man.

  Cutter turned to Vic, “Chase is going to be pissed we lost him.”

  “We’ll get Bing to tell him. He probably won’t s
hoot Bing.”

  Gasping for air and running on adrenaline, Jon crossed into the neighborhood where he had found the car. He ran to the back of the house and crawled into a small space under the porch. Pulling himself into a ball, he lay in the dark, breathing heavily. The usual afternoon rain began, pounding a rhythm on the wooden planks above his head. Water ran into his hiding place, soaking his side that lay on the ground, until he was chilled completely through.

  He could occasionally hear the deep rumble of a motorcycle as it passed down the street in front of the house.

  Jon waited for hours in the cramped, damp space until the sun went down behind thick, dark clouds that blanketed the horizon. He hadn’t heard the choppers for a couple of hours. Knees and shoulders aching, he slowly crept out of the dark hole and tried to stretch his burning muscles, but his anxiety about Mary and the kids got him moving again. Sneaking around to the side of the garage he slipped through the door. Jon felt under the workbench, finding the keys where he’d hidden them the day he’d located the car.

  It’d been three days but he was confident the car would restart. He climbed in, shoved the key in the ignition… and she started right up. He was still worried about the sound of the engine, but he was several blocks from the river and even farther from the hotel. If the cycles were no longer in the neighborhood he would be okay.

  With a sinking feeling in his stomach, he realized he didn’t have the garage door opener. A quick glance told him it wasn’t attached to either visor. He rummaged through the console and felt under the seats. Nothing. He searched the workbench and looked for a button on the wall. His heart leapt when he saw the button, but when he pushed it nothing happened. Going back to the garage door, he peeked behind the car and let out a sigh of relief, discovering a handle he’d missed, because the back of the car was only inches from the door.

  He felt like a contortionist as he wormed his way between the car and the garage door, and grasping the handle, simultaneously pulled it and the door upward. It squealed and groaned, but he was able to raise it over his head. Giving it an extra shove for good measure, he got back in the car and popped it in reverse, backed out of the garage and, with a sudden sense of freedom, headed for the river.