The Search For Home

by C A Bird

  “Shut up! I’ll do the talking. Get down on your knees, big guy. We don’t much like African-Americans around here.” He stressed African-American and grinned at the others as if he’d made a joke. He pointed his rifle right at Ashe’s face. Ashe looked at the rifle and slowly lowered to his knees in the wet grass.

  Roger was done. He’d had enough. The pain of his family’s loss had set him on edge. Their escape from the work camp, being chased by dogs, running from huge ugly guys, searching for help while trudging for days through the mountains, and now this, had infuriated him.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” He gestured toward the small black man. “What’s he? Pink?”

  He grabbed Ashe’s arm and lifted him to his feet, and turning to Billy screamed at him, “He hasn’t done anything to you. Leave him alone. We’re the good guys, you asshole. We just escaped from a FEMA camp in Charleston, from our great and magnificent President of the United States and we’ve had enough! We don’t want to hurt anyone, so if you’re going to kill us just do it. Otherwise take us to someone we can reason with.”

  Billy looked like a little boy who’d been chastised. “Well… we weren’t gonna kill you. Not unless you jumped us.”

  “Billy, let’s take ‘em to Mama,” the hulk said.

  “Shut up, Bernie.” He squinted over at Roger. “Did you say the President?”

  “He’s still alive and he’s going to be coming for you.”

  “Huh? We didn’t do anything.”

  “I didn’t either, but they took my farm and my family. We all need to stick together if we’re going to fight them.”

  “Bernie’s right,” one of the other men said. He was scary looking with a high forehead, wide, dark eyes and ears that stuck straight out. “Let’s take them home.”

  Billy thought for a minute and nodded. He waved the rifle down the road, “Get movin’ then.”

  The road wound in and out through the junk yard, filled with rusting appliances, farm equipment and stacks of rotting lumber. Eventually they came to valley that had surprisingly neat rows of crops, with funny-looking scarecrows standing guard. Roger realized they were department store manikins.

  A large, white farmhouse stood across the field, with a faded-red, partially-collapsed barn behind it, the only color in the expanse of green surrounding the small valley. They led them to the rear door of the farmhouse.

  “Go get Mama, Chuck.”

  The ugly man disappeared into the house and returned a few minutes later with a beautiful, petite woman. She was probably in her fifties but had smooth skin and thick, wavy, dark hair without a trace of gray and looked much younger. Roger looked at Ashe and saw the same surprise that he felt. She looked Roger and Ashe over and motioned them to follow her into the house. They went through a kitchen into a living room with threadbare carpet and Norman Rockwell prints on the walls. The furniture consisted of lumpy, stuffed couches and chairs, and dark end tables covered with doilies.

  She pointed to the couch. “Sit. You want tea?”

  “Yes ma’am. That would be great.”

  “What are you doing here?” she asked in a low musical voice.

  “Ah, ma’am, like we told your boys, we escaped from the President’s work camp. We were building a new White House over the ridge in Charleston.”

  “He survived then. The rest of the government?”

  “I don’t know. I’d just gotten there when we made a break for it. Ashe,” he nodded toward his friend, “was there longer than me.”

  She looked at Ashe and raised her eyebrows. “Well?”

  “I worked building the railroad between Charleston and Parkersburg. I only saw Rissman once, and that was when we finished the spur that allowed them to bring the old steam locomotive from the museum. He gave a speech but we were too far away to hear. I didn’t see anyone else I recognized.”

  A young woman around seventeen brought their tea, smiling shyly at Roger, and disappeared back into the kitchen. Mama, they found out her name was Grace, served them in china cups.

  She quizzed them at length, hungry for news from West Virginia and other areas to the east. They took turns telling their own stories, what they had seen in their homes and towns and how they had been captured by the military. She wanted to know about radiation and what had been bombed in the war.

  “How many soldiers do they have?”

  “I’d say at least a thousand and many others down south,” Ashe said. “They have working trucks and jeeps.”

  That jolted her. “When do you think they’ll be coming for us?”

  “They’re moving south first. They think there’s more survivors down that way. It will probably be a while.”

  “What did you boys do before the war?”

  Roger didn’t think she’d be impressed that he owned a flower shop. “I was a farmer and Ashe was a High School Principal.”

  Grace looked at Ashe. “Thought he sounded educated.”

  She called in the five men and introduced them. The quieter man whose name they hadn’t heard was Pierce. Then four women came down the stairs. Grace introduced them as her son’s wives.

  “Ashe, I think we can use your talents if you wouldn’t mind.” She put her fingers between her lips and let out a shrill whistle. Roger and Ashe were both shocked, as at least fifteen children came flying down the stairs.

  “Think you could teach these kids? Don’t want them to lose everything they learned before the war.”

  “Yes ma’am, I’d love to. But I want to establish something. That we’re friends, equals, and that we’re free to leave whenever we want.”

  “Of course. There’s a house you can use a quarter mile down the road. It’s across the street from Smitty’s. If you help work the fields and hunt, we’ll share our food.”

  “It’s a deal,” Roger and Ashe said at the same time. Everyone laughed.

  “Welcome brothers.”

  29

  Two days after the fight with the biker gang, the entire group from Willsburg sat around the campfire finishing up their dinner. After the dishes were cleared away and the kids were asleep, they turned the conversation to the future.

  Mark looked around the small group of travelers. “It looks like some of you have decided not to go on. I’m disappointed, of course, but you each have to do what you think is best. Let’s start with Chris and go around the campfire to see what each of you wants to do.”

  “Aaron and I are going back to Willsburg.” She reached out and took Aaron’s hand. “It’s just too difficult with the baby and they need us back home.”

  Aaron added, “I feel bad leaving you guys without a doctor, but your group will be smaller and probably travel a lot faster without us.”

  “Yeah,” Chris said. “And I think you’ll be returning to Willsburg too, after you get to California and find it’s been bombed back to the Jurassic Age. Maybe sometime in the future we can all move back to the coast. After the radiation’s gone. If we even want to by then.”

  “Okay, so Sheri, what are you thinking?” Mark tilted his beer toward her.

  “I’m going on. I can’t take the freezing winters in New Mexico and I’m hoping to find my aunt and uncle in Lompoc. I’m sure San Diego was wiped out and my parents and brother are gone, but maybe Vandenburg was spared, since it’s more of a spaceport than a military base. I won’t slow you down.”

  Mark chuckled, “I’m sure of that. Chang?”

  “As you all know, me and Carlos have been friends for most of our adult lives. He helped me when my wife died of cancer, and I went through his divorce with him. We kind of like a bigger town than Willsburg. We’re grateful I got the box that led us to the shelter, and everything you guys have done for us, but I guess we’ll stay here in Farmington. Carlos met a woman a couple of days ago and he really likes her.”

  Carlos ran his hand through his thick, dark hair and looked embarrassed. “I’d like to think it might lead to something. You can let us know what it’s like in Califor
nia.”

  “Okay, how about you Jimbo?”

  “Oh hell, I’m going with you. I really want to see what’s happening out west. I’m originally from the Bay area, before I moved to Denver. And we might find out what the Chinese are up to. I thought Danny would be coming with us but he obviously needs to go back with Chris. He doesn’t want to stay here, away from most of the people he knows. He talks like he’s an independent grownup, but this group and those back in Willsburg mean a lot to him.”

  “Hey Jimbo,” Mike said, “you’ve never said anything about what you did before the war. Most of us figured you were a crook.”

  Jimbo squirmed in his chair. He seemed reluctant but finally blurted out, “I was a ballet teacher.”

  Everyone just stared. Mike started to laugh. “Okay, you don’t have to tell us.”

  “No, really. I was.”

  “Yeah, Jimbo.”

  “So, Sam, how about you?” Mark asked quickly.

  “Me and Willy are taking the horses back to the ranch,” Sam said. “We bought a dozen mares and one fine stallion. I want to thank all of you that chipped in some gold. Anyone else going back can ride along with us. Since we don’t have to go through Raton, we’ll take the shorter, more direct route. We can get there in two weeks.”

  “It won’t take that long,” Mark said. “I bought the Taurus from Jon and Mary. Jimbo went out to the highway with me this afternoon and we fixed the tire. Chris, Aaron, Karen and Danny can drive back in a day, going through Taos. Anybody else going back can ride with the Yancey boys.”

  Chris said excitedly, “Hey Mark, that’s great. I’m ready to be done with this little adventure.” She squeezed Aaron’s arm.

  “Greg. How about you?”

  “I will go with you as far as Ganado, Arizona,” the geologist said. “My family would have gone to Canyon de Chelly, as the other Navajo would have. I believe they could have survived in the canyon.”

  “Matthew?”

  “I’m in.”

  “Me too,” Einstein added.

  “Mike?”

  “I’m goin’ on.”

  “Well, we don’t need three wagons. If I could talk Lori into going back with Chris we wouldn’t need the wagons at all, but she almost killed me when I suggested it.” He smiled over at Lori. “Skillet, you still thinking of moving on?”

  “I’m going with you. You need someone to drive that wagon and without me cooking for you, you’d all starve to death. But you realize we’ll be crossing the desert in the middle of July?”

  Mark sipped his coffee, thinking before he replied, “We could wait until fall, but we don’t want to get too comfortable here, so we need to go as soon as we’re prepared. We’ll take one wagon and load it up with water barrels. The kids can sleep in the back end. The rest of us will ride horses and camp in tents. We should be able to fill the barrels along the way.”

  “Well, if we can’t, it’ll be a real short trip.”

  “Thanks for that observation, Mike. We can travel at night and sleep during the day.”

  Skillet said, “I want to use the mules for the wagon. They’ll be a little tougher in the heat than the horses. But, I’ll miss Fred and Ethel.”

  “Good idea. Let’s get some sleep and get ready tomorrow to leave on the day after. Okay?”

  Everyone agreed and turned to their wagons and tents. When Mark and Lori were snuggled in their bed he tried once more to dissuade her. “Lori, seriously, the trip across the desert is going to be brutal. Do you think we should expose the kids to that?”

  “We will never leave you, Mark. We’ve gone over this many times before. Now shut up and go to sleep.”

  He did, but it took a long time.

  ***

  Chris clung to Mark when he hugged her goodbye. “Please be careful and don’t take any chances,” she told him. “I know you guys are going to come back. California had to be hit hard in the war, and you’re not going to find anything worth staying for.” She sniffed back tears as she backed away and looked up at him.

  “You’re probably right, but I have to find out.”

  “I know. But you know where home is. So when you satisfy your curiosity, please come back.”

  Mark abruptly turned away, his own emotion almost overwhelming him. Chris was like a sister to him, and he had every intention of seeing her again. She climbed into the passenger seat and Aaron handed her the baby from where he sat behind the wheel. Danny half reclined on the rear seat, his back on a pillow against the window. He was pale, his right arm supported by a sling.

  The gas tank was full and the tires were good. Mark was concerned that if the car broke down they would be stranded, and there would be no way to communicate with anyone if they had trouble. Sam and Willy had agreed to follow the road, when they could, so if the car broke down they could assist them. Sleeping bags and supplies were stuffed in the trunk, in case they had to camp by the car until the Yancey’s arrived.

  The day was warm, the bright sun halfway from the eastern horizon to the zenith, but somehow it felt a little colder as Mark watched the car drive away toward the east. Lori came up to Mark and wrapped him in her arms.

  “We need to get moving ourselves,” she said.

  He nodded and they walked over to the wagon, all packed and ready to go. Matthew rode Chief, and Einstein sat astride Tulip. Jimbo rode his bike, and there were two, five-gallon, gas cans strapped to the sides of the wagon, resting on wooden shelves. As Mark mounted Jasper, he realized he wasn’t looking forward to riding a horse for several hours each day. He figured he could occasionally spell Skillet, or ride along on the seat beside him. Lori rode a bay gelding they had picked up for a reasonable price at the ranch, and Mike had a golden palomino. Greg had purchased a pinto and, of course, Sheri had her bike. They had two pack mules. One belonged to Greg, and the other carried supplies that wouldn’t fit in the wagon.

  Mark had a feeling of déjà vu as he remembered six weeks ago, leaving Willsburg. There was a crowd of people seeing them off. Carlos, his girlfriend Lisa, and Chang were there, as well as a group of townspeople including, Jeff Hunt and several others that Mark had come to know over the past week. Ashley and Kevin waved out the back of the wagon as they moved off toward the south, heading down Highway 371.

  Once again, they had decided to stay on or near roads since they were usually the easiest routes through mountain passes.

  ***

  Being a smaller group, they made better time than before. There was a greater sense of urgency since it was late June and they hoped to get through the desert while the weather was cooler. When they reached Indian Service Route 5 they turned west until they reached Highway 491, The Trail of the Ancients, and followed it to Gallup, New Mexico. Greg had hoped to find survivors in these Indian lands, but so far, the area had been empty. It was populated by coyotes, rabbits, a few herds of deer, and hawks flying high above.

  Of necessity, they only had one sentry at night, but the trip had been uneventful. As they moved through Gallup, they once again had the feeling that they were being watched. The town was overgrown, and advertising signs had faded and had fallen to the ground. Many windows had been broken and glass littered the sidewalks and even out into the road. They kept the horses to the center of the highway to protect their hooves.

  “I think maybe it’s just because we expect there to be people in the towns,” Lori speculated. “I just believe all these houses and stores should be occupied, so my mind imagines survivors.”

  Einstein rode beside her, his brand new, black, cowboy hat pulled low to block the sun. “You may be right, but I thought I saw movement back there when we pumped Jimbo’s gas.” He scratched his scraggly beard. “The fact that we found some food, though, makes me think it’s deserted.”

  “Well, nothing could be spookier than Costilla,” she said.

  They found a water tank and filled the barrels, adding bleach to sterilize it. As they traveled west they passed red-rock cliffs and old, deteriorated teepees
that had been part of a modern trading post just under two years before. Scorching sun, wind, and blowing sand had taken their toll on the manmade buildings and, in that short time, nature was already reclaiming the land. Weeds grew high along the side of the freeway and were poking up through cracks in the concrete and asphalt. The right lane was half covered over with wild grass.

  When they reached Chambers, Arizona they had a sad parting with Greg Whitehorse.

  “Really Greg, are you sure you want to do this?” Mark asked him. “You don’t know if anyone’s there. What if you get to Canyon de Chelly and it’s deserted?”

  “Yeah,” Lori added, “you’d be all alone.”

  “I’m going through Ganado first to see if anyone’s there. It was my home before the war. I would have stayed with my family, but I was in Flagstaff for the start of the new semester when the alarm went off. It was quicker to fly to Albuquerque than to try and get to Ganado on my Harley. When I got off the plane, the warning of the attack had already gone out and the airport was absolute chaos. I stole a car from the lot and drove to the shelter. Otherwise I would have gone to Canyon de Chelley with my people. Matthew, you are part Indian. You would be welcome if you wish to join me.”

  “My friend, I thank you for the offer. I don’t know where I belong, but I know I haven’t found it yet. Maybe someday I can visit and see if I feel that my home is with you and your people. But not today.”

  Greg shook hands with everyone including the children. Kevin wrapped his arms around Greg’s leg. “Please don’t go, Uncle Greg.”

  Taking his hat off his head and allowing his black hair to fall around his face, Greg gently unwrapped the boy, and went to one knee to look him in the eye. “It’s been my honor to have known you all.” He hugged the boy and Ashley stepped forward to hug the Indian’s neck.

  He stood, brushing the dirt off his pants. “If none of my family or my tribe has survived, I will return to Farmington and probably to Willsburg. Otherwise, go in peace, my friends. Maybe we’ll meet again someday.” He mounted his pinto and reined its head around to the north. They stayed in place, watching him, as he and his horse and the pack mule kicked up dust, until they disappeared over a ridge and were lost to sight.