Walking in the Rain (Book 1): Surviving the Fall Read online

  Ruth immediately realized what I was doing and came running around the front of the truck to give me a big hug, unmindful of the tears streaming down her cheeks. Stan gave a grin but clearly didn’t get exactly what happened. I asked for everybody to load up and we could talk on the road. Ruth returned to the driver’s seat, Stan sitting behind her. Amy sat in the back passenger side spot, leaving me shotgun.

  “That’s a bulletproof vest, Stan. Luke took off his freakin’ bullet proof vest to protect our little girl,” Ruth gushed as she pulled the heavy pickup out onto the gravel road.

  “Too hot anyway,” I said, embarrassed by the praise and kind words. Both had been pretty sparse on this trip.

  We had only traveled a few hundred yards down the driveway when Amy spoke up.

  “So, Luke, what exactly should we be looking for?”

  Ruth braked and we sat there at the verge of the county road as I struggled to put my thought into words.

  “Ahh, well, this is just based on what I’ve read and what my Dad talked about, but we need to each take responsibility for a piece of the perimeter and watch for any movement. That sounds easier said than done I know,” I held up a hand to forestall any complaints,” but each one of us needs to be watching constantly.”

  “This reminds me of a movie I saw once,” Stan piped up, “about bomber air crews in World War II where the gunners all had a sector to watch for enemy fighters. That way they could coordinate fire.”

  “That’s a great example, Stan. Yeah, like that. Would be better if we had someone in the truck bed to watch our rear, but there’s just the four of us. Think of the world around us as a clock, with straight ahead as twelve o’clock and directly behind us as six o’clock. Middle right is three o’clock and middle left is nine o’clock. Everybody got that?”

  I received two “yeahs” and a “pleeeease” from Amy that made me grin. I’d already run that drill with my friend until she was proficient in making the call.

  “Now Stan, you’ll need to help Ruth cover her sector more, since she is going to be more focused on straight ahead, but I’ll help there as well. Amy, you just keep doing like you’re doing, scanning for trouble to that side and the rear. Look for movement, anything disturbing the grass or any objects out of place. Desperate people might try to roll something into the road to stop us, so two vehicles might be pushed close together to make a choke point.”

  “Or they might shoot at us,” Amy continued.

  “Or they might shoot at us,” I echoed, “and if they do, unload everything you have in their direction while Ruth stomps on the gas. And Ruth, if somebody steps in front of you, do not hesitate to run over them, alright?”

  “You got it” was all she said as she shifted back into gear and turned right on the road. This was a dusty little county road that eventually fed into a larger highway headed west, towards Siloam Springs and our destination.

  We settled into watchful silence as each one of us practiced our terrain scanning abilities, something that turned out to be more difficult than I first figured. Keeping your eyes constantly moving without being distracted, while mentally preparing to shoot at anything or everything around you could prove exhausting. Walking through the same territory was a much slower process, obviously, but the danger points didn’t rush up and past at forty miles per hour. Now I finally understood what my father meant when he said foot patrols weren’t as scary as riding around in a Humvee looking for trouble, and I knew I had made the right choice going on foot to start my journey.

  “If driving is so dangerous, why were you in such a hurry to hit the road in this truck, Luke?” Amy finally asked. Since we had touched on the subject earlier and the thought was heavy on my thoughts, I was able to respond immediately.

  “I don’t think those four guys were working alone. I want to be miles away before their buddies come looking. With that extra diesel you found in those cans, we should have plenty to make it to Ruth’s folks’ place. Maybe by this evening if everything goes just right. “

  Left unsaid was that with Stan’s bum ankle and Sophia needing to be carried, the Schecters would have been moving at a snail’s pace. Everybody knew this, and I didn’t want to make our new acquaintances feel like more of a burden. Driving to Siloam Springs might be a gamble, but if Ruth’s family was still holding out, that would make it a fair deal. Amy and I could use some time off the road. Thinking of that made me remember something said earlier.

  “Ruth, who is Dwight? You asked me earlier if I was with him. Amy and I don’t know anybody in Harrison, except you guys, now.”

  “Oh, he was running the roadblock when we came into town. Working with the county sheriff’s office, he said. They didn’t want to let us through until I shown him the envelope from a Christmas card from Mom and Dad. It had their address on it, and he convinced the other men to let us travel through town,” Ruth explained, never taking her eyes off the road. Stan chimed in right after to continue.

  “They are worried about running out of food and can’t take any more refugees, so I can’t really blame them. Dwight even told us we could use that abandoned house to hole up for a few days while my foot healed.”

  At that, facts started to click together in my head.

  “Will we run into another barricade if we continue this way? Amy and I came cross country and didn’t see any roadblocks set up.”

  I heard Stan grunt in the back seat.

  “Yeah, there’s another checkpoint I think. That’s what I heard anyway. They are covering the road so it makes sense. You think it was Dwight who set those looters on us?”

  I shrugged before answering. I didn’t know much for sure these days.

  “Likely so. Either him or someone at the roadblock who overheard his advice to you guys. Ruth said she only went out for water at night and ya’ll didn’t seem to be doing anything else at that house to draw raiders. I think somebody already knew the three of you were there.”

  “So what are we going to do if it was the guys from the Sheriff’s Department? What about the next road block?” I could tell Amy was getting nervous from the way her words seemed to run together, the syllables packed together in a tight stream of sound.

  “Well,” I said, letting the single word stretch for a second, “we have a little time so let’s make a plan for getting past the next roadblock and then hauling ass. Cause if somebody at the roadblock was behind those raiders coming after Stan and Ruth, they’ll darned sure recognize this truck.”

  “What do we do if they ask where we got the truck?” Ruth asked.

  “Found it on the side of the road, doors open, and bodies on the ground,” Stan replied. “We don’t know anything, but it was abandoned property and we claimed it.”

  That sounded like a pretty good story and I said so. Stan was proving to be pretty fast on his feet and we all agreed to stick to that tale. It was partly true, anyway. The bodies were on the ground and the truck was left unattended.

  “What if they shoot at us?” Ruth asked, and this time I had an answer of sorts.

  “Stay low and drive through. If they’ve got two cars or trucks parked end to end, aim for the gap in between. Everybody else, get fire out while staying low as well. These doors and side panels won’t stop a bullet, probably, but they’re better than nothing. While Ruth is getting us through, stick your weapon out the widow and shoot, fast as you can pull the trigger. I don’t care if you hit anything, just get their heads down. Start with the shotguns and switch to your rifles when you shoot yourselves dry.”

  “And if they hit the engine?” Amy asked.

  “Ruth will get us as far as this beast will get us, then grab your rifle and bail out bag and haul ass into the woods. Don’t stop at the edge. Get in there and regroup. Stan, you get Sophie. I’ll cover as best I can from the truck before following.”

  I tried to sound like I knew what I was talking about, but really I was relying on some stories my father had shared and pulling the rest out of my ass. All the sudden, dr
iving nearly a hundred miles with a target painted on our backs didn’t seem like such a smart idea.

  The sight of the road block ahead, suddenly visible as we topped a low ridgeline, prompted a flurry of activity in the cab of the truck. I drew back the charging handle on the big CETME, and from the sounds coming from the backseat, Amy and Stan were following suit.

  “Load another shell in the tube, Amy,” I said without turning,” and finger off the trigger. Don’t point the barrel out the window yet, or at me, okay? Let’s just be cool.”

  Be cool. What a joke. I was sweating like a whore in church. That was one of my father’s little sayings that just drove my mom crazy. She wasn’t real religious but she thought that expression was a bit crude for my teenage ears. If only she heard some of the stuff I picked up at school. I realized I was just delaying the inevitable and finally spoke up.

  “Ruth, pull on up slowly and stop about twenty yards from those two trucks sitting nose to nose. Stan, you recognize any of these guys?”

  “Not yet. Still too far out. I count six though.”

  I agreed with his count. Six that we could see, which meant they likely had at least half again that many we couldn’t. Sniper nests would be my guess.

  “Time to get this show on the road,” Amy announced from the back seat and I felt myself start chuckling silently. She sounded so determined. Ruth glanced over cautiously and I just shook my head.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  After that big buildup, the roadblock turned out to be pretty anticlimactic. One of the guards, a uniformed deputy with a handlebar mustache and a few days growth of beard came out to meet us and asked Ruth her destination. The deputy gave us all the once over, noting our weapons close at hand I’m sure, but quickly turned his attention back to Ruth. He seemed to think she was a citizen of Harrison and Ruth did nothing to dissuade him of the notion. She explained that her family (including her little brother and sister) were headed to the family farm to ride out the trouble. Deputy Savis didn’t ask what she meant by trouble and Ruth did not volunteer.

  “Did you register your trip with the town council? So nobody thinks you folks went missing.”

  “Yes, sir. All good to go. I’ve got some paperwork right here…” Ruth said, holding up some wrinkled sheets of paper and included the envelope with her family’s address, but the deputy just waved her through.

  “Just hold onto it ma’am. And be safe. I see everybody in this vehicle is heavily armed, except the baby,” he said with a wry smile,” so ya’ll better be ready to use them to defend yourselves. I hate to say it, but there’s just no law enforcement past this point.”

  “Yes sir, Deputy. And thank you for doing this. I know trying to keep all of us safe is keeping you from your family.”

  Ruth’s kind words seem to strike a chord with the deputy as he murmured “you’re welcome” and waved for the others to clear the barricade for our vehicle.

  As we were headed on down the road once again, Amy piped up from the back seat.

  “Well, that went better than I expected.”

  “I don’t know,” Stan responded, “the deputy seemed legit but I caught one of the other guards eyeballing this truck pretty close. And he didn’t look happy.”

  I’d missed that, but Stan was almost certainly right. Even though we’d just met today, the guy continued to impress me with his brains and cool demeanor. If his observation proved out, then the bandits had somehow infiltrated the deputies with spotters. Pick out the best targets, and steer their crews in for the kill.

  “I wonder if their spotter back there has a working radio? Or access to one?” I said, knowing we had found nothing like that in this truck. There was an under dash mount for a CB, but the radio itself was long gone judging from the rust I noted on the connecting arm bolts. Well, not the rust itself but that the rust was undisturbed.

  “Don’t know, but I guess we need to proceed like he does,” Ruth said, impressing me with her calm yet determined tone.

  “Yes, ma’am. Let’s get back on watch,” I said, and turned my full attention back to watching my part of the perimeter. Again, I thought about how mind numbing this exercise turned out to be. After about ten minutes of this, I heard Ruth make a small gasp. When I glanced over I saw her eyes fixed on the rear view mirror, not the road.

  “There’s someone back there, following. I think. I keep catching a flash of light, like sunlight reflecting off the windshield.” She spoke precisely, like her report might be doubted by the rest of us. With the winding nature of this little two lane road, I was surprised she could see anything back there until they were on top of us.

  “Honey, can you tell if they are gaining on us or just sitting tight?” Stan responded quickly, glancing back over his shoulder as he spoke. “They might just be going the same way we are, and not be a threat.”

  Ruth said she couldn’t tell, and she looked over at me for some reason. Advice? Reassurance? I wasn’t good enough at reading her expressions yet to say for sure.

  “Well, we treat them a possible threat until they show different. Ruth, you know this road pretty good, right? Go this way to visit your family?” I asked quickly.

  “Yes, this is the back way to Siloam Springs but it is nearly a straight shot. We used to go this way to go see my folks.”

  “Okay. How far is it to the next big turn? You know a spot where you have to slow way down to navigate the bend in the road?”

  I saw Ruth glance around, getting her bearings no doubt, before she responded.

  “There’s a turn coming up, just over this next hill, but it’s not that tight of an angle, though. I think the speed limit only goes down to 35 miles per hour. There’s another one, like what you mentioned, but that’s maybe six, seven miles further down the road.”

  I weighed the options while thinking out loud. My plan was pretty basic, of course. I was no military genius, but this would be a bushwhacking, pure and simple. Stan saw where I was going immediately and volunteered to help, sprained ankle and all. Ruth wanted to protest but I quietly overrode her objections, playing the ultimate trump card.

  “Ruth, Stan just wanted to make sure you and the baby get through this. He’s worried, we are all worried, about what these men intend. I think between the two of us, Stan and I got a look at every man visible back at that roadblock. If any of these folks behind us were there, well, that doesn’t make them bad guys but it sure don’t smell right.

  “I need Stan with me to run that Savage of his. But relax, we aren’t planning on getting into a shootout with these guys, even if they are affiliated with those bandits we killed earlier.”

  “Not planning on a shootout?” Stan echoed, a little confused.

  “He means he plans on ya’ll just executing them” Amy piped up helpfully from the back seat. “Luke doesn’t enjoy killing people, but when he has no choice, he tries to be quick and efficient about it. If the two of you shoot them and there’s nobody firing back, then it ain’t a shootout.”

  Darn, she was right. I would have made a terrible Old West gunfighter, I reckoned. I didn’t go in for that whole thing about facing the other fighter in the middle of the street, waiting for him to draw first. Screw that as a plan. A guy could get killed acting that way.

  “Amy’s correct. If we see anybody we recognize from the roadblock, we shoot them all, take their stuff, and get back on the road. There’s no good reason for anybody from back there to be following us. Not this far out, and not this soon after we passed through the roadblock. But still, we will look before we shoot.”

  That seemed to seal the deal for Stan. I wasn’t just looking for an excuse to murder and pillage. I know my callous attitude about such things had to be of some concern to him. I wasn’t a serial killer, I didn’t think. Still, my go-to move these days was to permanently eliminate a perceived threat. Even to me, that didn’t sound well balanced.

  “What about the girls?” Stan asked, “Where do they wait while we take care of this?”

  “
There’s a rest stop a little ways further up, maybe a mile,” Ruth suggested.

  I felt icy fear slither up my spine.

  “No, no stopping at rest stops. No matter what, don’t go that far. That is a really, really bad idea. Just pull over on the shoulder if you can, maybe seventy five yards past the curve. Ruth, keep the truck running and Amy, bail out and cover in front of us. Use the ditch and take your rifle.”

  I wanted to say more but we were out of time as Ruth rounded the curve and I noticed she had to brake to stay on the road and navigate the turn. That was nice to know. We were also shielded from view by a short stand of trees bordering the roadway on the left side, so hopefully our pursuers would not be able to tell what we had planned.

  Stan and I jumped out before the vehicle completely slowed and ran to opposite sides of the road. I went right, to the outer side of the curve, while Stan headed down slightly and to the left. The narrow two lane road had decent ditches on both sides, but I went past that dip and on up to the higher ground beyond. I dove to my belly and shucked out of my pack, using it as a rest for the big rifle I was going to use.

  When I glanced up, I couldn’t see Stan at all, which was probably a good thing.

  “Stan, if you recognize anybody, go for the driver as soon as they get in range for you. I’ll see what I can do about any passengers,” I called out, seemingly too loud now that the truck have moved ahead a bit and sat idling. Allowing the truck to stay was a risk, but I did not want us getting separated. Plus, if these jackasses were just pushing us into an ambush of their up ahead, I didn’t want Ruth and Amy to face that alone.

  “Gotcha,” he yelled back, and then it was time to get to work. The trailing truck suddenly came into sight, and even at this distance I could make out a distinctive red straw cowboy hat. The last time I saw that hat, it was worn by one of the men I’d seen hanging around the roadblock out of Harrison. Now he was standing in the bed of the modified one ton farm truck, leaning precariously against the roof of the vehicle. I chambered a round and waited, watching the truck rumble closer to our position.