by Payne, T. L.
“What’s it going to be, lawman?” Monte pressed.
Walker stopped in the middle of the highway and placed the truck in park. He stared off down a lane to his left.
Will’s head pivoted, looking for threats. He hated to rush him. It was a big decision, but they were exposed just sitting there like that.
“Aw hell. I might as well ride on with you guys. I wouldn’t want you to become lost before you get the boy to your sister’s,” Walker said, placing the truck back into gear.
Will was surprised how relieved he was that Walker had agreed to continue on with them. More people did make it safer.
“All righty, then,” Monte said. Let’s put the pedal down and get to Cajun country.”
“Great, I’ll get to introduce you to Aunt Savanah and my cousins,” Cayden said.
Walker twisted in his seat and smiled back at him. He opened his mouth, about to say something, when he heard the clang of something hard hitting the rear of the truck.
“What was that?” Monte yelled, twisting to get a look.
Everyone turned toward the rear left side of the truck. Isabella gasped.
“Let me see hands,” a male voice said in broken English. He was dressed from head to toe in black. Half his face was covered in a balaclava mask.
“What do you want?” Walker asked.
The man thrust his rifle in Walker’s direction. “I say let me see hands.”
Another man came into Will’s view. “Get out!”
Without taking his eyes off the men, Will reached under the driver’s seat, pulled out the Colt 1911 that Alan had given him, and stuffed it into the back of his waistband. He twisted toward the man, putting his body between the attackers and Cayden. Isabella’s door opened, and Will’s head pivoted in that direction. A third man had her by the hair and was dragging her from the vehicle.
“Let her go!” Cayden yelled as he grabbed hold of Isabella’s waist.
The man hauled back to punch Cayden, but Isabella landed a blow to the man’s groin with a fist, and he stumbled backward, with Isabella landing on top. Will grabbed Cayden to stop him from going after them then felt the cold steel of a rifle barrel against the back of his neck and froze.
“Get out! Now!”
The door opened, and Will pulled Cayden out with him. Walker was already on the ground, arms and legs spread apart. The first man was going through his pockets.
He held up Walker’s badge and said something to the others in Chinese.
The man closest to Will and Cayden turned his back on them to look at it. Will reacted, pulling the 1911 from his waistband. He shoved Cayden to the ground and fired until the man went down before turning the pistol on the guy standing over Walker. Two down. Unknown numbers still to go.
Twenty-Three
Isabella
Day Eight
“Will!” Isabella screamed as hands wrapped around her hair.
Cayden grabbed her by the wrist. His look of terror only fueled her anger at whoever had attacked her. She was face up, sliding toward the pavement, when she saw the man’s other hand form a fist. When he leaned forward to hit Cayden, Isabella threw her right hand back and punched the man in the groin. He let go of her and she hit the ground hard, knocking the wind out of her for a moment. The attacker was less than five feet away, facing the front of the vehicle. If she attempted to stand and run, he’d be sure to grab her. He took two steps toward her with both hands balled into fists. Isabella ignored them. Her eyes were on the blade attached to the man’s right leg. He took another step, and Isabella readied herself.
Boom!
Someone fired, and the man reacted by turning toward the shooter. Isabella lunged and grabbed the knife from his side. The man didn’t appear to notice. All his attention was still on the commotion on the driver’s side of the pickup.
Isabella plunged the man’s knife up and under the man’s vest and into his abdomen with all her might and withdrew it, quickly crawling away. The guy’s mouth opened, and he dropped to one knee.
Boom!
After the second report from the deep throaty handgun, Isabella tried to stand, but her legs were like wet noodles. A hand grabbed her by the right arm and hoisted her to her feet. She spun around, ready to fight.
“It’s me, Monte!”
Isabella dropped the knife and turned, looking for Will and Cayden. “Will!”
He appeared near the truck’s hood on the driver’s side with the pistol gripped in both hands. He lowered it when he saw her. “Any more over there?”
Monte pivoted and pulled his rifle up to look through his scope. “I don’t see any.”
Isabella rushed around the front of the vehicle, passing Walker and Will, and ran straight for Cayden, who was leaning against the back fender. “Are you all right? Are you injured? Did they hurt you?” she said in quick succession.
“I’m fine,” he said flatly. “Dad got ’em.”
Isabella pulled him into her arms and held him tight. Tears stung her eyes but she fought them back. Now was not the time. She would not fall apart.
“Are you okay?” Cayden asked, pulling back from her. He pointed to her hands.
Isabella stared at her blood-soaked right hand. The blank look on the man’s face replayed in her mind. “It’s not mine.”
“I tried to stop him,” Cayden said.
“I know. You shouldn’t do that. You could get hurt.”
“I’m not a little kid. I can fight too. I may be short for my age, but I can fight. I’ve fought bullies at school many times.”
Isabella was filled with a mix of emotions—a sadness that he’d experienced bullies and a sort of pride that he was willing to stand up for himself. But this was different. The world was different. Those were regular schoolyard bullies. The people they were encountering now were killers.
“We better go before more of these assholes show up. Those gunshots are sure to attract attention,” Walker said.
“Where are the rest of them, Will? They don’t travel in threes.”
“Maybe these are just scouts,” Will said, standing over one of the insurgents.
“These aren’t dressed like the others,” Isabella said. “They look more military. Look at their gear.”
Will rifled through the pouches on the man’s tactical vest, pulling out ammunition and finally a map. He spread it out on the hood of the truck, and everyone crowded in to see it.
“I can’t read Chinese, but these marks here must be targets.”
“That’s the rail line between Beaumont and Houston,” Walker said.
“You think that’s their target?” Will asked.
“It’s certainly of interest to them. It’s highlighted in red.”
“Why’d they attack us?” Cayden asked.
“Opportunists,” Monte said. “They saw the truck. It’s a much quicker way to travel. Dressed like that, I’m sure they weren’t prepared for the heat and humidity here in Texas. They seemed pretty tired and slow.”
Will grabbed the man’s canteen and shook it. “Empty. They were out of water and probably dehydrated.”
“Let’s not stand around here and wait for more to show up,” Isabella said.
She still couldn’t believe that the insurgency had spread this far from Houston. What valuable targets could there be out in the Piney Woods of East Texas?
“We’ll have to be more diligent from here on out,” Walker said.
“And not stop for nothing,” Monte added.
Will helped her up into the truck as Cayden ran around to the passenger side. He stopped and looked down at the dead man and then looked up. “You think I could have his knife?”
“That’s up to your dad,” Isabella said.
“Dad?”
“Only pull it if we are attacked,” Will said.
Cayden nodded. Monte unstrapped the scabbard from the man’s leg and placed the knife inside it before handing it to Cayden. “It’s going to be a bit big on you, I’m afraid.”
> “It’s okay,” Cayden said, wrapping it around his thigh.
Monte, Will, and Walker stripped the gear from the insurgents. The vests were too small for the guys but fit Isabella perfectly.
“It’s too hot,” she complained. “I can’t breathe in this.”
Will pulled his over his head and strapped it, but it left half his abdomen exposed. “It’ll be cooler when we’re moving and the wind is whipping through here.”
“Here, little man. There ain’t no way this will fit me,” Monte said, holding up the bloody tactical vest.
Cayden scrunched his face. “That’s gross!”
“It’ll still stop a bullet,” Monte said, pulling it down over Cayden’s head and fastening the Velcro straps tight.
“Can I have his pistol?” Cayden asked.
Monte picked it up off the ground and looked it over. “You ever see one like this?” he said, handing the gun to Walker.
“Not personally. That’s Russian made.”
“So is all this 7.62mm ammo, I bet,” Will said.
“Russian?” Isabella said. “They’re Russian?”
“The Chinese buy a lot of Russian weapons. These guys are Asian, not Russian,” Monte pointed out.
“How do you know all this?” Cayden asked.
Monte smiled. “Google.”
“Should we at least drag them off the roadway?” Isabella asked.
Monte looked at her like she had two heads. “Why?”
“Conceal them. In case others are close behind,” Isabella said.
“Won’t matter,” Will said. “We’ll be long gone.”
Isabella couldn’t quit thinking about the implications of insurgents out in the Texas countryside. There were only three, not the hundreds that she and Will had fought against in Houston, but why were they there? What did it mean? Were they scouts like Will had said? It was so very hard to wrap her head around. Enemy forces were on American soil.
“Why didn’t they just shoot us all if they only wanted the truck?” she asked, thinking out loud.
“Maybe they wanted directions.” Cayden laughed.
Isabella elbowed him with her broken arm and immediately regretted it as pain shot up her arm. “Funny guy.”
“He might have something there. They might have wanted information,” Walker said, “if they were on an intelligence-gathering mission. They likely thought we were locals and might very well have intended interrogating us for local information.”
“Well, whatever their intent, they found out the hard way not to mess with Texas!” Isabella said.
Isabella was so lost in thought about what the world could look like if China achieved their goal that she didn’t notice as Walker weaved around Evansdale and finally arrived on the outskirts of Deweyville. She was surprised when the truck came to a stop just before the bridge crossing the Sabine River.
Twenty-Four
Will
Day Eight
Will stood in the middle of the bridge spanning the Sabine River, which divided Texas from Louisiana. They’d somehow made it out of Texas alive. There was no turning back now. They’d have to keep going and face whatever was ahead of them.
“Now what?” Isabella asked.
A well-armed group awaited them on the Louisiana side.
“What do you think, Walker?” Will asked.
“I think maybe I should go over and speak to them.” He reached into his pocket, and pulled out his crimson-stained Texas Rangers’ badge, wiped it on his pant leg, and opened the door.
“What if they start shooting?” Monte asked.
“Shoot back.”
Walker held out his badge and walked to the middle of the bridge. Will couldn’t hear what was being said. Walker gestured over his shoulder. Next, he bent and placed his gun and badge on the pavement and stepped back as another man approached. The man retrieved them from the ground and thrust his thumb back over his shoulder. Walker turned and gestured for them to get out of the truck and join him.
Will was hesitant, unsure what the group’s intentions were. They could take the truck or disarm them and kill everyone. In the end, he decided the only way to find out was to join Walker. Will exited and held his hand out to assist Isabella.
“Are we sure this isn’t a trick?” she asked.
“No, but we have to cross here, so we have to take the chance.”
“I ain’t disarming. That’s all I got to say,” Monte said, still sitting in the front passenger seat.
Will and Isabella met Cayden at the front of the pickup. He wrapped his arms around Cayden and Isabella and slowly walked toward the checkpoint on the Louisiana side of the river. He looked back, and Monte was standing beside the truck, his rifle at the low ready.
A young man stepped out from behind a road closure sign. In his hands was a rifle pointed toward the ground. Will took it as a good indication that they weren’t just going to shoot them on sight. He glanced down at Isabella and then at Cayden and stepped forward. They were within fifteen feet of Walker.
“You can stop right there,” the man said, his hand outstretched in front of him.
They stopped seventy-five feet from the end of the bridge. Will shifted his gaze to the guardrail and the water below. He was trying to determine how quickly he could shove Isabella and Cayden over the short rail if shots rang out.
“We aren’t accepting refugees,” the man said.
Refugees? What the hell? Were they now some third-world country? There was something familiar about the man, but Will couldn’t place it. Maybe it was just the deep southwest Louisiana accent.
“We aren’t refugees,” Will called back. “We’re just passing through heading home.”
“Heading home? Where to?”
“South of Vincent,” Will said.
“What’s your name?”
“Will Fontenot.”
There was a pause and then another man stepped forward.
“Will? I didn’t recognize you,” the man said. “I’m Kale. I used to do some work on your granddad’s place when I was in high school.”
Will squinted, trying to get a good look at the man. “I recall that now,” Will said.
“Come on over,” Kale said.
Will and the others slowly approached, still cautious as the other men at the roadblock hadn’t lowered their weapons. He looked back and gave Monte a thumbs up before continuing.
“Good thing that guy knows you because they were going to take our truck and weapons and send us back across the river,” Walker said.
“They said that?” Isabella asked.
“As you were walking up, I heard one of them say so.”
“You think they still will?”
“Not if Will’s buddy there vouches for us.”
“It’s fine. This here is Will Fontenot. He was the star quarterback the year Vincent took the championship,” Kale said, turning back to the other men at the checkpoint.
“Quarterback?” Isabella asked, nudging him.
“That was a long time ago.”
“Seriously,” another man said, lowering his rifle and stepping forward. “You look different, Will.”
“It’s probably all the dirt and blood.” Cayden chuckled.
“This is my son, Cayden, and this is Isabella.”
“You guys look like you’ve been through hell and back,” Kale said.
“We’ve come from Houston,” Isabella said, attempting to smooth her uncombed hair.
“Shit. It’s bad there, huh?”
“It’s bad everywhere.”
“Who’s the dude back there with the AR?” Kale said.
“Monte. He was down in Houston with the Cajun navy helping out after the hurricane. He got stranded. He’s heading down Cameron area.”
“I got folks down that way. He doesn’t want to head down there.”
“Why?” Isabella asked.
“My in-laws came up a few days ago and said they were run out by a fight between the police and some foreigne
rs in military uniforms.”
Will and Isabella stared at one another. That was too close—way too close to Vincent.
Will reached one hand out and braced himself against the road sign. They’d come all this way to find a safe place at the farm. Now to learn that there was trouble seventy-five miles away was beyond disheartening. His whole body hurt. He was exhausted, physically and mentally. He wasn’t sure how to keep moving, yet they’d have to. They had to get to Savanah’s and somehow convince her to leave the farm. But go where? Where would be safe?
“So you’re headed home. You going to your grandpa’s place?” Kale asked.
“Yeah. My sister took it over.” His head was reeling and trying to accept this new information. “How far north is the fighting?” Will asked.
“From what we hear, it’s between Beaumont and Cameron, but they’re telling folks to evacuate. Of course, people had already headed north before the hurricane came in, so there ain’t many folks still down there. Most headed to Shreveport and ain’t made it back.”
“Any word from the sheriff? What about the National Guard? Did they move toward there?”
“They moved toward Beaumont after the storm. That’s probably a lot of the fighting around there.”
“What’re folks saying up this way? You feel safe staying put?”
“For now. I heard tell of a FEMA shelter that they set up before the storm that some folks have headed to. Thought we’d see how things go and if need be, head there.”
“Where’s that?” Will wanted to keep all their options open at this point.
“Texarkana,” Kale said.
That was well over two hundred and fifty miles.
