Trekking Home

by Jeffrey Miller

  “Ben, let’s see if we can help him,” Nate said. Ben looked at the officer who was walking around the Tundra carefully to the driver's door. Nate rolled to a complete stop but didn’t put the truck in park. He started to roll down his window when he noticed the troopers hand drop to his weapon. Nate already had his weapon pulled and then noticed the clothing did not exactly fit the man. His pants were way too big, and the belt barely held the holster up. The shirt though was the dead giveaway. Its short sleeves hung past the short man's elbows. Nate had only a second to decide and slammed down the gas pedal to speed off right as the man finally drew his weapon and fired off a few rounds at the Tundra. One round sliced through the back seat of the Ranger in the back of the Tundra and another hit one of the gas cans. The last round managed to slip right through the back glass and impact Nate’s left arm exiting into the side door near the speakers. Nate flinched knowing he had been shot but also knew it passed through his arm. This wasn’t the first time he had been shot. Ben was bent over covering his head doing what he was told as Nate put distance between them. Finally, Nate pulled over as he crested a hill.

  “Ben, I have been hit, but it will be ok. I need your help, though.” Nate exclaimed.

  They both got out of the truck and quickly went to the rear passenger door. Nate unzipped one side pocket on his pack and removed his small trauma kit. He peeled back his shirt and lifted his arm. The exit wound wasn’t as bad as he feared. The bullet was smaller, maybe a .380 he figured, but deadly enough. Nate knew he was lucky.

  Nate was more pissed at himself than he was about getting shot. He knew better. He knew never to ignore that gut instinct that had saved his rear so many times before. Now, because someone made him a cop, he suddenly felt it was his duty to stop to help even though something was telling him to keep going. He removed a 4x4 thick pad and applied it to the wound. He then had Ben open up the sterile saline he carried and soak another pad with a hit so Nate could clean his wound. Nate knew with there being no hospitals or clinics around; he would need to do this himself. He cleaned the wound with the pad then applied direct alcohol he had in another bottle. The burning was fine because he knew it was killing bad things. He had Ben open a tube of triple antibacterial cream. It was all he could do. He rubbed it all over the wound. Nate took another look at the exit wound, it didn’t look too bad, and at this point, he felt that he wouldn’t need to do any stitches. He wrapped up the wound well with many layers of gauze. Using Kerlix, he stretched the material around many times to secure the clot forming pad over the wound.

  Now Nate had to decide what to do about the man that shot him. He could just leave and not address the issue, but someone else may not fare as well. Ben, he had to think of Ben. He couldn’t just turn around and drive back. Nate was starting to not like this feeling of duty; he just wanted to get home. In the Army, he had a duty to do whatever it took to finish the mission. This was a mission now to get home, but now his gut told him to address man pretending to be a cop. Then Nate thought, how did he get a patrol car? Nate remembered seeing an abandoned car in front of the officers unit. That feeling in Nate’s stomach now came back stronger than ever.

  “Ben, I need to take care of that man back there. He might kill someone, and I’m lucky he didn’t kill me.” Ben shook his head in agreement but also appeared uncertain what Nate was thinking. Nate looked around. He was surrounded by a lot of open high desert, prairie grasses and small shrub brush. No roads lead up to any of the small hills around them.

  Nate decided on a hill about one mile off the road. If he could drive them over the hill and have Ben wait, he could easily run back to the location of the man. He would not be expecting anyone to be coming back, especially on foot. He told Ben of his plan. He would leave the truck running and locked up with Ben in the driver's seat. Nate decided to let Ben drive the truck off the road behind the hill Nate directed him too. Ben did well, a little uncertain and nervous, but once he got past the first big dip in the field, he did great, and Nate reassured him of that fact.

  When they reached the hill, Nate had him turn around and face the truck back to the direction of the road. Nate explained to Ben his plan and showed him exactly what he wanted him to do and exactly what time. Nate had it all planned to the second. Ben smiled, seemingly enjoying the thought of having a big responsibility in this current mission.

  Nate slowly climbed out of the truck with one arm and opened the rear door. He removed his .45-70 lever action. He knew this wasn’t going to be easy but didn’t want any other rifle right now. Someone shot him, and he was going to return the favor. He walked to the front of the driver's side door, and Ben rolled down the window.

  “Ok, in exactly 40 minutes you drive to the road and near the crest but don’t go over the hill. Park and wait. It will take me longer to run to him now off the road than it will be back to the truck on the road.” He said reaching in and touching the back of Bens' neck.

  “I will return Ben, I promise,” Nate said pulling his bandaged arm back out of the truck.

  “I know Nate, I know,” Ben said calling Nate by his first name for the first time. Nate turned and started jogging with his rifle in one hand headed through the tall dusty grasses. He estimated it would take him about 25 minutes to run the distance with his arm and the terrain. He had to be mindful of snakes as he ran trying to keep an eye on the ground as well as ahead. He took a path that would be essentially flanking the man coming up from behind.

  Nate’s estimate of how long to run to the car was right on as he could now see the two vehicles as he approached not directly from the rear but the side. He didn’t see the man yet and slowed down and now stopped behind a large bush for concealment. He scanned the area still not seeing the man. Suddenly he saw him coming from across the road walking over the small hill. He was in the westbound lane now stepping over the guardrail and carrying a small bucket. He finally reached the back of the unit and opened the trunk. He poured what looked like water into the trunk slowly then shut the trunk again.

  “What the hell?” Nate whispered to himself. Nate kicked himself for not remembering his binoculars in his rucksack.

  Nate was amazed that his arm was only slightly throbbing now. The bullet apparently missed artery and bone. He took a moment beside the bush to thank God for that huge miracle. He was a big man and had a lot of muscle but still knew who to thank. Now he said a quick prayer to keep his mind focused and abilities at their peak. He slowly started to walk towards the two cars. When he got within two hundred yards, he slung the rifle in one fast motion cocking the lever all in one motion. The action was smooth but loud even in the approaching sunset and stillness at this distance the man seemed to be able to hear something. He stood up straighter looking everywhere but from the place behind him. Nate could shoot the rifle easily with one hand but didn’t wish to miss. He raised up his injured arm and now silently crept up within 60 yards before he made himself known.

  “Over here buddy,” Nate yelled. The man turned quickly, raising his small handgun, looking around and finally his eyes landed on Nate. His expression changed when he saw the rifle and started to fire off the gun.

  Nate already had a bead on him and placed one of his bullets square in the man’s left arm. The man screamed, and he fell to the ground still holding up the gun with his right hand. He squeezed off a few more rounds, and they never made the distance to Nate.

  “You shot the wrong man,” Nate said as he placed one more round into the man’s chest. He reacted by placing his arms to his chest and then hit the ground. He was still moving. Nate stood watching. He wasn’t stupid and realized there was something different about the last shot. That bullet should have done him in. The man stood up and was now running screaming at Nate. He had a vest on.

  The man was yelling many obscenities as he closed the distance fast. Nate dropped to one knee and took careful aim, this time; he would end this duel. He worked the lever again and pulled the trigger. The man screamed one last time as the round fou
nd the center of his face. The man’s body fell to the ground sounding like a dropped bag of potatoes.

  “Where’s your vest now, asshole” Nate walked to the man’s body and just kept walking. He didn’t need to check him; he didn’t need to even look at him. He was dead. No one lived from a head shot from a .45-70.

  Nate checked his watch and saw that he still had 12 minutes to get to Ben. He reached the back of the squad car and lifted the open tailgate up. Inside was a mostly naked man. He was about the same height as Nate. He was alive but barely. His mouth was partially taped up, perhaps for some reason, the man he just killed was trying to keep him alive for some odd reason, and that’s why he was all wet. The trunk was damp from the smelly water the now dead man poured over the naked man. The only bit of clothing he still had was his underwear.

  “Sir, I’m going to help you, I will remove this tape”. Nate said standing his rifle that was cocked along the trunk next to him. The man’s eyes seemed to fill with tears. Nate wasn’t certain if from joy or what but he could see the appreciation.

  Nate removed the tape.

  The man gasped for air, taking in several deep breaths. His hands were tied behind his back, and his feet also bound together.

  “Who are you?” Nate asked, suspecting he knew the answer. The man tried to speak but was having difficulty.

  “Take your time,” Nate said. Finally, the words came from his lips.

  “Officer Tate, I’m Officer Tate with the Colorado Highway Patrol.” Nate reached in and lifted the large man up and then cradled him out of the trunk and slowly lay off to the side of the road.

  “Ok Officer Tate, I’m going to cut off your bindings,” Nate said removing his knife and quickly slicing through the tape around the man's wrists and feet.

  “Thank you, sir, thank you so much, but I heard gunfire, where is the man wearing my clothes?” He asked trying to strain his eyes looking around. His crossed his arms indicating he was a little cold, as the sun was going down in the high desert.

  “Officer Tate, my name is Deputy Michaels with the Laramie County Sheriff's Department. That man is dead who took your clothes. He also shot me.” Nate said pointing to his arm.

  “He tried to ambush me and my son who is up to the road, waiting for me.”

  The trooper looked over at Nate’s rifle.

  “You shot him with that?” the officer asked. Nate looked at his rifle gleaming as it stood against the trunk in the setting sun.

  “Yep,” Nate replied.

  “Well good for you, that son of a bitch needed a big bullet. I was trying to get home days ago and was running low on gas, and then I finally ran out. Here comes this guy in the car which is also low on gas. The dumb ass leaves his car running to pretend to help me, and that’s when the crap hit the fan. We both struggled, and he nearly shot me before he stopped himself. He took my gun and had two guns on me making me undress. He said he would let me live but needed my uniform to flag down others. He had attempted a few others going through my guns ammo pretty fast. I could hear the sounds of my Colt 45 pretty good in the trunk. I guess. Eventually, he started using his gun, think it was a .380. You got lucky it wasn’t my gun sir” he explained. Nate knew the officer was very correct. A .45 would have done so much more damage. Nate looked around and now could see all the spent casings on the highway. Each brass shell was now doing its part to capture the sun's setting rays like his rifle.

  “Well, can you walk?” Nate asked. The man tried to stand, but his legs were too weak.

  “Just stay put. I will go back and get my son and our truck. So your unit just needs gas? How far are you from home?” Nate asked a flurry of questions.

  Nate’s mind was doing the calculations, but he had a plan.

  “I’m only about 10 miles from my home, yeah I just need gas. It should start with some gas.” He replied.

  “Ok, sit tight. I will be right back.” Nate said grabbing up his rifle and running up the road about a mile and a half.

  Ben was very excited to see Nate; he jumped from the truck and ran to him. He hugged him and spoke.

  “I heard so many shots I was scared” Ben expressed, still hugging Nate.

  “I’m ok, but there was a man in the trunk of that cop car Ben, he was the real officer. We need to drive down there and get him some help.” He said ushering Ben inside the passenger's side, and he used his right arm to pull himself into the tall truck. He sped down the road as fast as he could stop right beside the officer. Nate and Ben got out with the truck running.

  “Ok, I have some gas I can spare, we are headed to Texas, but I have enough to give that would see you home. I can also give you some brand new t-shirts and underwear. Don’t ask, just know that someone above must have known we would need this stuff.” Nate said as he poured the gasoline into the officers unit.

  The officer was now able to stand. It was about this time that Ben was wandering around along the rear of the dead man's car when he yelled he found a pistol. Nate ran to the rear of the car and removed it from the top of the trunk. He-man had just laid the gun on the trunk and left it.

  “Here you go Officer Tate, I think this is yours.” The officer placed it inside his now running squad car. The radio came on but was just a lot of crackling noise.

  “I see it's still bad out there. No communications, I mean?” Nate asked.

  “Yes, it's just getting worse. You said you are headed to Texas, let me warn you, many militias have set up border patrols. They are trying to keep non-Texans out.

  Nate laughed out loud.

  “Well, I can assure you one thing, if I make it back to the Oklahoma-Texas border it will take much more than a militia unit to keep me from getting back in” Nate replied shaking the officer's hand. It was a little odd, given the officer still had no pants.

  “Just one second Officer, before we go,” Nate asked reaching deep into his pack in the back seat. He removed a pair of long pants 5.11 style tactical pants. They seemed to be around the same size in height and built.

  “These will fit you I’m sure,” Nate said.

  “Besides you don’t want to go get that uniform now, it's going to be a little bloody,” Nate said trying to add a little humor to the mix.

  “Thank you so much for everything you have done; I don’t think I would have made it another day in that trunk.” He said slipping on the pants. He reached inside his squad car and removed the pair of boots the dead man placed back in after making the officer strip. With his new t-shirt on and tactical pants, he stood and looked at Ben.

  “You have a great father, Ben, be proud of this man, not many would have come back especially after being shot,” he said to Ben. Ben just smiled.

  “Ok, Nate, I guess I better get home, I’m sure my family will be very happy to see me finally,” he said. Nate and Tate shook hands one last time. Nate then gave him a few unopened bottles of water. Tate smiled and sat inside his car sighing loudly. He tipped back the now open bottle and drank it down fast. He flipped on his lights and drove off down the road.

  “Ok Ben, let's get going,” Nate said.

  Despite the bullet hole in his arm, Nate was doing pretty well. Before leaving to get on the road, he and Ben changed the bandage and the wound was not bleeding and looked good. So far, he had no signs of an infection. The truck also didn’t seem to have anything wrong with it as far as he could tell from the bullet that left his arm and found its resting place in the driver side door. They were now approaching Lamar, Colorado and had only seen a handful of people on the road and some waved from their home sites, with rifles strapped to their backs. It was a good thing, Nate thought to himself, seeing people armed like this protecting their property. After entering the small town of Lamar, Nate turned right on 385 and headed south towards the Oklahoma border. Coming into town, he passed an empty Loves Gas station on the right and what appeared to be the burnt out remains of a Pizza Hut on the left. There were still only a few cars, mostly small fuel efficient ones, on the road, but for the
most part, all traffic was dead, with cars nearly everywhere. The lack of electricity was the one thing that truly surprised Nate from this economic collapse. He assumed critical facilities would still be operational like hospitals, prisons, fire stations, but he had seen police stations without power. Nate wasn’t even sure now how long this had been going on. Time had been a factor that he didn’t even pay attention to now. He had a watch, but it did not have a date function. It was just a simple watch. He had lost his good one before his vacation while on a fishing trip. He grabbed a cheap one just for the time, and he wasn’t certain now that it was even correct.

  The short trip through Lamar, Colorado took only moments and was uneventful. Nate’s mind reflected back on his journey so far as he looked over to see Ben sleeping. It was around ten at night, but Nate wanted to keep driving. His mind went back to his journey but then on to what Officer Tate told him about the rumors of Texas forming up border patrols to keep non-Texans out.

  The thought only made Nate laugh because it sounded exactly like a response many would want in Texas. He wasn’t sure it was a bad idea to a degree but hadn’t given the concept any thought. The next town was less than fifty miles away from Lamar. The road was almost empty. Nate looked down at the gas meter in his truck; it read three-quarters full. He had plenty plus a few containers in the back to make it home. He lost one in the shooting earlier and gave one up to Officer Tate. He was happy for the officer to be able to get to his family, they would need him.