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Northeast of Lenox, Tennessee
Sitting in the small folding chair, Sandy finished cleaning her AR. Again. All the mud from the drainage ditches they crossed yesterday had coated everything so after making camp, she and Mary had started the task of cleaning all their gear. The guns had been first, but even by nightfall they still hadn’t been done, so they’d stayed in place. With the sun now lower in the sky, Sandy started cleaning her AR again to keep her hands and mind busy.
Camped at the tip of a peninsula that jutted into a lake, Sandy glanced around and didn’t see anything close. Neither woman wanted to stay an extra night so close to the Mississippi River Bridge they had used to cross, but they didn’t have much choice. The horses were spent from the mad dash after Johnathan had been murdered and their gear really needed to be cleaned. Pushing the thought of Johnathan’s death from her mind, Sandy reassembled the AR.
Across from Sandy, Mary propped up on her elbow. “Hear anything?” she asked.
“Some ATVs to the west just after noon,” Sandy answered, field testing her AR when it was back together. “They weren’t there long.”
Stretching out first, Mary stood up and patted Ann who’d been lying beside her. “The dogs handled the baths better than I thought they would,” Mary admitted.
Dropping her eyes to Dan beside her, Sandy nodded. “Yeah, and they don’t seem as tired after taking a night off,” Sandy replied, forcing a smile.
Walking over beside Sandy, Mary turned on the kerosene stove. “What else needs to be cleaned?”
Giving a shrug, “Nothing,” Sandy answered. “I’m just keeping busy.”
Reaching over, Mary patted Sandy’s shoulder. “Me too,” Mary mumbled.
When Mary poured a cup of coffee for her, Sandy took it and looked out over the small lake. “I only killed six stinkers today,” Sandy told her, then took a sip.
Holding her mug with two hands, Mary stood up and saw the horses already saddled. “Did you make any changes to the route we worked on?” Mary asked and Sandy shook her head. Glancing at her watch, Mary looked up at the sky. “We should be able to leave in an hour. You recite the route and then I will.”
Lowering her mug, Sandy took a deep breath and started reciting the route Johnathan had made her memorize. When she was done, Mary started while Sandy moved over to pack the last of her stuff up. Almost finished, Mary stopped reciting, hearing gunfire to the south. For several seconds, sporadic gunfire sounded but then stopped suddenly.
“I haven’t heard gunfire that close, have you?” Sandy asked.
Shaking her head, “No. That wasn’t even a mile away,” Mary answered. “I heard some that was several miles away last night.”
Moving over, Sandy held up the scanner. “I heard them talking again on CB’s three hours ago.”
“You find out anything new?”
“Yeah,” Sandy answered. “They got a few people across the bridge to look around, but stinkers were thick along the interstate. They called them back before they got cut off.”
Nodding, Mary stepped over before putting a hand on Sandy’s shoulder. Yesterday after they’d made camp, neither had felt like sleeping, so they’d cleaned gear and Mary had turned on the small scanner. They had heard people talking on CBs about a group of bandits that hit Steele, and the entire area was looking for them. Unfortunately, the locals didn’t bother asking for ID and anyone not local was the enemy.
The town of Caruthersville seemed to have a lot of people and that was who’d come after Sandy and Mary. Just before dark they’d found out Johnathan had killed seven and wounded five. Listening to the CB, they could tell the people were just running around because at ten o’clock that night the bandits had struck the town of Steele again.
“Or maybe that’s what they wanted everyone to hear,” Mary offered. “Maybe we need to wait a little longer before moving out.”
To the southwest, the sound of engines filled the air. “That’s near Lenox,” Sandy stated with certainty. “We need to leave. We’ve already taken too much time off. Think about it, the longer we stay here the more of a risk they’ll find us.”
Hearing that, Mary nodded and closed her backpack up. “We need to avoid having the horses walk through water if we can help it. I’m worried about their hooves.”
Sandy patted her thigh, and Dan came over and sat down at her feet. Leaning over, Sandy rubbed his head. “Let’s eat and move out,” Sandy said in a breaking voice.
Wiping tears from her eyes, Mary gave a sigh and grabbed the pot off the stove and fixed them two bowls. As the two ate, they listened to the forsaken world around them. Still off to the southwest they could hear the sound of engines, but they seemed to be heading away.
After checking the camp once more, they packed up and pulled on backpacks. “Want me to lead?” Mary asked.
“If you want to, but I think we need to keep doing what we were doing with Jo-,” Sandy stopped as her voice caught. Clearing her throat, “We need to keep changing, like we were with Johnathan. That way, we don’t get complacent.”
Giving Sandy an understanding nod, Mary climbed up on her horse. “I’ll take over at midnight then.”
Climbing up on her horse, Sandy gave a grunt and then settled into the saddle. Holding the reins, Sandy started arranging and checking her equipment over her body and saddle. Glancing back and seeing Mary was waiting, Sandy gave her horse a small kick and guided him through the woods. With Johnathan gone now, each was leading three horses. After talking about it, they’d both agreed to keep the horses and change out the horses they rode every day.
Riding north, Sandy soon reached a small dirt track heading east. Tugging the reins to the right, Sandy turned her horse onto the path at an easy walk. A soft growl sounded below her and without thinking, Sandy raised her bow up as a shadow stumbled toward them on the dirt road. Squeezing her knees against the horse to steady herself, Sandy released the arrow.
She watched the shadow give a jolt and then collapse to the ground in a heap. “Good boy, Dan,” Sandy whispered, steering her horse toward the stinker she’d shot. With a grin seeing the stinker on its back, Sandy leaned over in the saddle and reached down for the arrow jutting out of the stinker’s face.
When the shaft touched her glove Sandy gripped hard and yanked, hearing the slurping sound as the arrow pulled out. “I’ll never get used to that sound,” Sandy admitted with a shiver, pulling up in her saddle.
“Thought we had seventy-one before we have to retrieve,” Mary said, moving up behind her.
Shaking the arrow violently in the air to sling the gunk off, “I didn’t get off my horse,” Sandy responded, putting the arrow back in her bow.
“Damn, I should’ve thought of that,” Mary sighed. “I could’ve got a dozen or more of mine.”
Shrugging as she lifted her bow up to aim at another shadow ahead that had stepped out of the trees, “It just came to me,” Sandy breathed out, then released. The stinker raised its arms toward them just as the arrow hit it in the face.
“Let me get this one,” Mary offered, steering her horse to the side of the dirt path.
“It’s not sticking up,” Sandy noted. Watching Mary lean way off her saddle Sandy bit her bottom lip, expecting Mary to faceplant on the ground any second. The stinker fell on its left side and the arrow shaft was only a few inches horizontal off the ground.
With her left foot braced on the saddle horn, Mary leaned over until she could almost touch the ground. Passing the stinker, she grabbed the shaft and yanked up as Ann came over wanting to know what she was doing. “Ann,” Mary cringed as Ann licked her face.
Pulling back up in the saddle, Mary wiped the dog slobber off her face with the back of her glove. “I don’t like dog kisses,” Mary smiled down at Ann.
“When did you become a rodeo rider?” Sandy asked, pulling back her bow when another stinker stepped out.
Slinging the gore off the arrow, “Hate to admit it, but I’ve dropped so much shit since we’ve been riding that I just learned how,” Mary huffed as Sandy released an arrow. “My pack only has some ammo and food, so it’s not that heavy. Bill told me to do that after I fell on my face.”
Watching the stinker drop, “That’s why you fell off your horse in Utah?” Sandy asked.
“Yeah,” Mary admitted. “I dropped my coffee mug.”
Seeing Sandy steer her horse over to the stinker, “Your pack is too heavy, Sandy,” Mary warned. “I don’t have clothes or extra boots in my backpack. I leave them on my packhorse.”
Taking the advice, Sandy sighed with a nod and then watched Mary steer her horse over before hanging off the saddle again and yanking the arrow out. “I’m taking some shit out of my pack,” Sandy grunted. “I hate climbing on and off the horse to retrieve arrows and cut fences.”
Sitting back in her saddle, Mary shook the arrow hard. “I wish I would’ve been doing this sooner,” Mary admitted, then looked back to see two stinkers following them, but the horses were moving faster than the stinkers.
The dirt track they were on ran into a real dirt road, and Sandy could see a few houses around but didn’t see many shadowy forms of stinkers. Killing any stinkers that would intercept them, Sandy kept her head on a swivel and strained to hear anything as they rode along.
Ahead she spotted Highway 78, and Sandy saw the shadowy forms she had been looking for. “Shit,” she grunted, pulling her horse to a stop a half a mile from the highway. All the forms were heading south in the slow and steady stinker walk.
“It’s not that many,” Mary offered, pulling up beside her.
“It’s enough to bog us down,” Sandy replied. “I don’t want to risk using guns unless we have no choice.”
Agreeing with a nod, Mary looked off to the north and could see the fields were flooded. “Seems Bill was right, all river levels would rise,” Mary sighed.
“We need to get some distance between us and the damn river, so we can have room to move,” Sandy pointed out, still staring at the shadowy forms.
“We can try skirting the flooded areas in the field, but we have to get on Highway 78 to use that bridge unless you want to try and have the horses swim the Obion River.”
A shiver ran down Sandy’s spine at the mention of ‘bridge’. Shaking her head, “No. As wide as it is, the horses could get hurt trying to find the edge,” Sandy replied.
Glancing back, “Well, we need to do something or take out the stinkers behind us,” Mary told her. Sandy turned and saw over a dozen shadows following them.
“Fuck it,” Sandy snarled. “The damn bridge is only three miles away. Let’s move to the road. I’m sure we can get back in fields and dirt roads after Bogota.”
“I’m game,” Mary shrugged, adjusting her AR across her body so it wouldn’t interfere with her bow.
Kicking her horse, Sandy turned over her shoulder. “Stay just back from me in case I need help clearing a path.”
Answering with a grunt, Mary kicked her horse into a trot, moving up beside Sandy’s right side. Reaching the road, they saw several stinkers turn around for them but steered north. Shadows to their front started converging and Sandy moved to the soft shoulder, keeping the horses in a slow trot.
Risking a glimpse back to Mary, Sandy saw Mary was almost riding in the ditch. “Move back behind me, so your horses don’t trip. I’ll just use my pistol if they get thick,” Sandy called out softly. Pulling her reins back, Mary fell in behind just as Sandy shot a stinker with her bow.
Watching the stinker collapse, Mary chuckled as the two behind it tripped, smacking the asphalt very hard, face first. “I don’t care who you are, that faceplant hurt,” Mary chuckled softly, not even thinking about retrieving the arrow.
Continuing north in a steady trot, the stinkers thinned out and Sandy was able to dodge most. When she saw the bridge ahead, Sandy took a deep breath and steered her horse up on the roadway, cringing to hear the clap of hooves sounding off. “I wish we could put socks on the horses to muffle that,” she complained.
Crossing the bridge, Sandy shot a stinker and then glanced out over the water while she grabbed another arrow. “Holy shit,” Sandy gasped, seeing how wide the river was now. On the map the river had been fifty yards across, but now it was over three hundred easy. “Glad we didn’t try to swim that.”
When they cleared the bridge, Sandy saw the bridge rose above the ground for half a mile before the roadway dropped back to ground level. Even though water was still on each side of the raised roadway, Sandy moved her horse back to the shoulder before slowing them to a walk. Hearing the clatter of hooves cease when the horses moved to the grass, Sandy sighed with relief.
A mile from Bogota, she steered the horses off the highway toward a field. Not seeing a barbed wire fence surrounding the field, Sandy wanted to cheer. As her horse reached the field, Sandy looked down at the dirt and saw it was moist. The horses left very visible tracks. “I could follow those tracks,” Sandy mumbled, then glanced back and saw Mary scanning around.
A soft growl sounded below, and as Sandy turned to Dan walking beside her, she jerked her horse to a stop. Off in the distance to her left, she heard the unmistakable sound of a car door slamming. “Was that a car door?” Mary asked, moving up beside her.
“Yeah, but it was a long ways off,” Sandy whispered, hearing muffled pops. “Let’s get closer to the east tree line.”
Moving across the field, they heard someone shouting from very far off where the muffled shots were coming from. Sandy was certain in the old world they never would’ve heard it, but this new forsaken world was devoid of modern sounds. Now, the muffled pops and sonic cracks were very easily heard, but only because they were in a steady tempo. Reaching the end of the field, Sandy guided her horse into a small stand of trees that bordered a dirt farm road.
Very slowly, Sandy eased her horse to the road and looked to the west up the dirt road. Half a mile away, where the dirt road met Highway 78, she could see the parking lights of two pickup trucks. “You hear that?” Mary asked behind her.
“They are shooting with suppressors,” Sandy told her. “Let’s head across this field, but stay near the tree line.”
Feeling very exposed when she crossed the dirt road into the next field, Sandy was again thankful for no barbed wire. The small ribbon of trees they rode beside gave them no cover, but it did give them a background to move against.
Slowing as they neared a blacktop road, Sandy steered her horse closer to the trees, seeing a shadow on the road ahead. It was heading west toward Bogota, so she peered through the few trees looking east and saw a house and barn. A muffled pop to their front made everyone, including the horses, jump.
Squinting her eyes, Sandy struggled to look ahead of them. The road was over a hundred yards away and she looked around, trying to find where the suppressed shot came from. When a figure stepped away from several trees to the road, Sandy stifled a yelp.
Just by the way the figure moved she could tell it was human, and she was almost certain it was a man. The figure stopped beside the stinker that’d been shot and pulled it off the road, then walked back to the trees beside the road.
When Sandy climbed off her horse, Mary almost fell off hers. “What are you doing?” Mary whispered in a pant.
“They’ll see us if we just cross over this road into the next field,” Sandy told Mary as she checked her AR.
“We can move back and head east,” Mary offered.
Shaking her head, “No. That water was too high, and the horses would have to wade through fields,” Sandy answered.
“We don’t know if they are with the same group,” Mary said, looking toward the road.
“Then they should’ve had their asses inside,” Sandy snarled in a low voice. “If it goes bad, then take off.”
“Fuck that,” Mary huffed, moving to get down and Sandy stopped her.
“No. You have to stay with the horses, so they don’t run off,” Sandy told her. “If we lose the horses, we can’t make it home. Just hold here.”
Before Mary could respond Sandy turned and left, after motioning for Dan to stay. “You aren’t a ninja,” Mary sighed, then said a prayer that this wasn’t a mistake.
Remembering everything Johnathan had taught her about hunting, Sandy crept forward, slowly testing each step for sound before putting her weight down. When she was fifty yards away, she spotted the dark shape of a side by side in the strip of trees facing the road with two figures inside. The figure on the right lifted a rifle and looked east down the road.
Glancing to the east, Sandy didn’t see anything and lifted her AR to her shoulder. Before the stinkers arrived, fifty yards had seemed like a long way to her. Now it was point blank. The fiber-optic reticle glowed green as she rested it on the shadowy outline of the passenger’s head.
Very slow and easy, Sandy flipped the safety off and moved her finger to the trigger, never caring whether these two were part of the group that’d killed Johnathan or not. They were blocking her way. When her finger contacted the trigger, she let out a long breath as she gently squeezed the trigger.
When the rifle bucked in her hands it startled her, but she moved the crosshairs over and saw the driver turning to the passenger as she pulled the trigger. Sandy saw the driver’s head jolt as the bullet blew out the side of his head.
Taking her finger off the trigger, she glanced around and didn’t see any movement. Holding her barrel low, she eased up and heard a radio turned down. Getting closer, she saw a CB mounted on the dash and heard several people jabbering away.
In the light of the night sky, Sandy saw the grotesque scene of her work up close and fought not to get nauseous. Turning back, she waved for Mary to move up and then turned back to the side by side. Each man had an M4, but the scopes on them were massive.
Picking up the closest, Sandy gave it a once-over and saw the eyepiece was rubber, but couldn’t see through it. Pressing down on the piece light came out, making Sandy jump and let the eyepiece go. Turning to the west, Sandy let her AR hang and pulled the M4 to her shoulder and pressed her eye to the eyepiece, gasping to see a thermal view, but a hundred times better than the one Johnathan had found on the soldier.
Then it occurred to her, one had to press down on the eyepiece to use the scope that way so light wouldn’t escape. Taking her eye off the scope, Sandy blinked her eyes as her right eye struggled to regain its night vision.
Reaching over, she grabbed the other M4 and laid both in the back bed. Moving back to the cab, she started patting down the driver and realized the vest he was wearing was like the one Johnathan and Bill had taken off the soldier. “Fucking glad I shot your ass in the head,” Sandy gasped.
“What?” Mary whispered, tying the horses to the back of the side by side.
“They have on vests like that soldier had,” Sandy answered. “Get to the passenger and get his off.”
“Sandy, we need to haul ass,” Mary complained, but moved to the passenger side.
“Mary,” Sandy snapped in a low voice. “These vest stop bullets.”
Pausing when she reached for the passenger, Mary looked from Sandy to the body before yanking it out and letting it hit the ground hard. Bending down, Mary undid the side Velcro and pulled the vest off while Sandy tossed the driver’s in the bed.
“Anyone seen anything besides stinkers?” a voice asked over the CB.
Narrowing her eyes, “My son came up with that, and nobody around here is allowed to use it,” Sandy hissed at the CB.
“I heard an ATV south of Miston,” a voice answered.
Several more called out joking before a deep voice came over the CB. “Knock it off,” the deep voice commanded. “We will give it another thirty minutes, then move back across the river. If nothing else, we are killing infected.”
Happy the voice didn’t use ‘stinker’, Sandy turned from the CB and saw something on the small dash. Picking it up and realizing it was a head harness, Sandy gasped and stared at what she was holding. “It’s like the one Johnathan bought.”
Leaning in, Mary saw the dark outline of a night vision monocular and saw another on the dash that would’ve been in front of the passenger. Grabbing it, Mary almost panted. “We need to go.”
Reaching back to the bed, Sandy pulled the vest over her head with a grunt. “Okay, I really believe it weighs thirty pounds.”
Slinging one of the M4s across her back, Sandy glanced in the buggy and saw a small cooler, and opened it up. Seeing beer on ice, Sandy fought off the desire to crack one open and swept her eyes over the interior. When a radio went off beside her ear, Sandy jumped almost four feet in the air.
As she was in midair, Sandy looked over the roof and saw Mary was also in midair looking at her shoulder. Returning to earth, Sandy looked at her left shoulder and saw a radio mounted on the vest. “All units, we pull out at two a.m. If anyone is listening on the CB, they should move in an hour. Call out contacts,” the same deep voice called over the radio.
Looking through the cab at Sandy, “Wonder how far out they are?” Mary asked as Sandy grabbed a case off the floorboard.
Shrugging, “Have no idea, but we are out of here,” Sandy said, jerking her head to the bed. “Grab the other M4 and one of the small packs back there, and I’ll take the other one. We can stop down the road and tie them to the pack horses.”
“I’m taking this tool belt off if I’m wearing this damn vest,” Mary snorted, moving to the bed and grabbing the stuff.
When they mounted up, Sandy led them across the road into the field heading northeast. Taking off her cap, Sandy put the head harness on and cranked the knob at the back to tighten it on her head. Flipping the monocular down, Sandy fumbled along the tube until she found the switch and turned it on.
“Whoa,” she mumbled. Instead of a world of green she was looking at a world of gray and white, but could tell it wasn’t thermal. It was infrared, but the definition was a hundred times better than the one Johnathan had bought, and he had paid four grand for it.
As they moved along a row of trees separating them from the next field, Mary rode up. “You-,” she stopped, seeing Sandy already had the monocular on. “This is the new phosphor night vision,” Mary grinned. “Doug brought one over at Christmas that a company sent him to try out, but he didn’t buy it. If Doug didn’t buy one, I don’t want to know what they cost.”
“Cost us two rounds of 5-5-6,” Sandy replied with a malevolent grin.
Nodding, “Well, that was a bargain,” Mary chuckled. “When we hit that small forest in five miles, we need to stop. If we have to fight with this shit just tossed on, we’re fucked.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” Sandy admitted really loving the fact she could see with definition now. Then she turned to Mary. “You know, since we’ve landed, mine and your language has turned atrocious.”
“Fuckin’ A,” Mary chuckled as they continued on.
