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Moving across the field, Sandy turned her horse onto a small dirt road, staying on the right edge where grass was growing. Keeping the horse at a nice walk, Sandy kept scanning around, and every fifteen to twenty minutes she would scan around with the thermal.
When they left the winding dirt road an hour later, Sandy groaned as she climbed off the horse with the bolt cutters. Cutting the three strands of barbed wire, Sandy headed back to her horse and climbed on. “We have picked up groupies,” Mary told her, and they froze hearing dogs barking far to the east.
Looking behind them on the road, Sandy saw over a dozen stinkers several hundred yards back. “Let’s see if they find where I cut the fence,” Sandy challenged, giving the horse a kick and steering it into the field. She looked up at the partly cloudy sky and then to the east to see clouds rolling in. “I’m so not in the mood for rain,” she droned.
“Hey, at least we don’t have to stop now,” Mary pointed out. “I’m sorry I made us stop in Colorado during that rainstorm, but I couldn’t see shit. All I could think about was my horse walking off a ledge and dropping into a deep gully.”
Turning around in her saddle, “Mary, I had been screaming at the top of my lungs for half an hour for us to stop, but nobody heard me because it was raining so hard,” Sandy panted, feeling the dread she had felt riding in the downpour. “I had to hold onto Johnathan’s packhorse because I couldn’t see his ass.”
“Oh,” Mary gasped, feeling relieved. “Bill acted a little upset that I threw a tantrum, but I was done. I didn’t care we had only been traveling for two hours.”
Turning back around in her saddle, “When Johnathan asked me if we should stop, I told him if we didn’t, I was shooting his horse,” Sandy disclosed. “I told him he was a surgeon and could fix it, but we were stopping.”
Hearing Dan growl, Sandy glanced down to see which way he was looking, then turned to her left. Seeing shadowy shapes like dogs in the distance, “I fucking hate dogs that aren’t Dan and Ann,” Sandy grumbled, hanging her bow off the saddle horn. Raising her AR to her shoulder, Sandy cocked her head so the monocular over her left eye didn’t hit the scope. A hundred and fifty yards away from a small stand of trees, over thirty dogs stared at them crossing the field.
“Nice size pack,” Mary noted lifting her AR. “I’ll start on the left.”
“I’m shooting that big fucker in the center,” Sandy announced. “On three, ready?”
“Ready,” Mary answered, easily able to spot the shadowy outlines of the dogs in her ACOG.
“One, two, three,” Sandy counted, and both squeezed their triggers three times in quick succession. Each moved their crosshairs at another target as the dogs started running back into the small stand of trees. Watching another dog drop, Sandy moved her aim at a dog running away and squeezed the trigger three times again.
She watched the dog drop and snap at its butt, then struggle to stand up but collapse back down. Lowering her AR, Sandy picked up the thermal and scanned around. When she turned to the small stand of trees, Sandy saw several warm spots in the field. “What the hell?” Sandy mumbled, pulling her horse to a stop.
“What? More dogs?” Mary asked, but couldn’t find any in her monocular or scope.
Handing over the thermal, “That’s not dogs halfway from us to the trees in the field,” Sandy stated. “In my monocular, it looks like dark smudges in the grass. If I hadn’t used the thermal, I wouldn’t have seen it.”
Studying the hot area, “Whatever it is, I can say it isn’t stinkers,” Mary replied with certainty. “Stinkers never show up that warm, and whatever that is it’s dead.”
“Let’s see what they killed,” Sandy said as Mary handed the thermal back. “We’ve seen dogs taking down a cow, but if they are taking down more than one, we need to tie up and hobble the horses every night.”
When Mary gave a nod, Sandy kicked her horse heading for the spot in the tall grass. Ejecting the magazine, Sandy put it in her dump bag and slapped in a new one. “Thank you for reminding me,” Mary said quietly behind her, slapping in a new magazine.
Ten yards away from the spot, Sandy turned to the side and threw up. “Oh my God!” Mary gasped, feeling nauseous. Scanning the carnage, Mary saw the corpse of a toddler ripped apart and slung her head to the side as she puked.
“Let’s go,” Sandy gagged out, then pulled the back of her glove across her mouth.
Still heaving, Mary kicked her horse and steered it past Sandy, leaving the carnage behind. Pulling out a bottle of water, Sandy moved up beside Mary, keeping a lookout while Mary finished heaving. Rinsing her mouth out, Sandy drained the bottle and tossed it aside. Normally they saved bottles, but she didn’t want to smell the puke.
In the stand of trees, she could hear some of the dogs they’d shot whining. Dan and Ann looked at the trees, growling. “Dan, Ann, heel,” Sandy snapped in a low voice. The dogs stopped growling and fell in beside them.
Yanking a bottle of water out, Mary rinsed her mouth out then drained the bottle. Tossing the empty bottle away, “They had guns,” Mary gasped.
“I saw four bolt action rifles, a pump shotgun, and three revolvers around the bodies,” Sandy replied with a shiver. “They did kill four dogs, but Johnathan said only an automatic weapon can hold off numbers.”
“How many bodies did you see?”
“Five adults, two that looked like teenagers, a toddler, and a bloody infant carrier,” Sandy answered in a broken voice. “The pack attacked them less than an hour ago.”
“When we entered into the field and we heard dogs barking, do you think that was why?”
Nodding reluctantly, “Yeah,” Sandy admitted. “They were on foot in a field. They never had a chance.”
Glancing behind them, Mary saw the few stinkers that had managed to find where they’d cut the fence were diverting to the carnage. “The stinkers are going there. I wish we had shot the heads,” Mary said in a breaking voice.
“I’m sorry I was curious,” Sandy mumbled, lifting the thermal up.
Moving her horse up beside Sandy, “Don’t be,” Mary told her. “We’ve seen dogs getting bolder, but never saw evidence of them attacking people. Johnathan and Bill shot at any dog that looked at us. Now we will shoot any dog we fucking see.”
Feeling the realization of everything against them and her face set in stone, Sandy nodded as tears ran down her cheeks. “If we have to fight the turning of the earth, then we will.”
Mary nodded as Sandy guided them out of the field and Mary was thankful there wasn’t a fence. “Should we put the leashes on Dan and Ann? I don’t want them to run off.”
“It could get tangled up in the horses legs if we are attacked by something,” Sandy pointed out. “Bill and Johnathan taught them well and they always stay close.”
Scanning behind them, “Yeah, but I think they really want to chase a rabbit,” Mary said, trying to lighten the mood. Hearing Sandy chuckle, Mary sighed feeling slightly better and tried to push the images of the slaughter from her mind.
“Yes, they really want to chase a rabbit,” Sandy agreed. “When we get home, you and I will go catch them one and let them chase it around the yard.”
Only following the road a mile to use a bridge, Sandy led them off the road and back into fields. “You know, I never would’ve believed you or I would be able to memorize a path that didn’t involve roads and signs,” Mary confided.
Lifting the thermal, Sandy looked around with a smile. “Yeah, how many times have we gotten lost in Nashville? Even with the GPS?”
“Now we are following the lay of the land, landmarks, and using a compass. I was amazed when Ian and Lance got those merit badges and I realized they weren’t following little roads in the woods,” Mary chuckled.
The chuckle froze in Mary’s throat upon hearing a steady thump in the air to the north. “Is that a helicopter?” Mary asked when Sandy turned and cocked her head.
“It sounds like it,” Sandy admitted, looking to the north. “It sounds like it’s coming from the north.”
“Can we move over to those trees?” Mary asked, pointing to a row of trees that ran along the field to separate it from the next field.
Kicking her horse hard, “Yeah, I don’t want to meet them,” Sandy agreed, getting her horse into a fast trot. Reaching the trees, Sandy slowed and pulled into the fifteen-feet-wide stand of trees. Steering her horse to move with the trees, Sandy stopped once her packhorses were also under the limbs. Seeing Mary do the same, Sandy turned to the north and could definitely tell the helicopter was getting closer.
“There,” Mary said behind her, and Sandy glanced back and saw Mary was pointing more to the northeast.
Turning around, Sandy lifted the thermal and had no trouble spotting the hot spot in the sky. “It’s one of those military helicopters that looks like a bus with a blade at the front and back.”
“It doesn’t have on any lights,” Mary noticed as the chopper sped south. “For a flying bus, it seems to be going pretty fast.”
Hearing Sandy give a whimpering groan, Mary moved her horse up beside her as Sandy turned off the thermal. “What’s wrong?” Mary asked, then felt stupid because everything was wrong. “I mean, what got you down so fast?”
Waving her hand at the sky, “That means the military is still active,” Sandy sobbed. “They tried to put us in a camp and take away what few guns we had. I was hoping they were all dead and we could just get home and survive this on our own with the kids.”
Reaching over and grabbing Sandy’s arm, “That’s what we are going to do,” Mary stated. “I don’t care if nuns holding newborns step out and try to stop us; we will mow their asses down and continue home.”
Wiping her cheeks off, Sandy nodded and then grabbed her bow, pulling an arrow out of her quiver. Mary gave a startle seeing that and swiveled her head around, and saw a stinker walking through the narrow stand of trees ahead of them coming towards them.
Pulling back the bow, Sandy barely paused before releasing the arrow. Watching the stinker’s head jerk back Mary nodded, impressed with the shot. “Told you that you would get the hang of shooting the bow with the monocular.”
Moving her horse up, Sandy gave a broken chuckle. “Never thought about it,” Sandy admitted.
Gripping her saddle horn tight, Sandy leaned out feeling her right foot come out of the stirrup. Thankful the arrow shaft was almost pointing straight up, Sandy grabbed and yanked it out of the stinker’s head. Pulling her body back in the saddle, “Kill anything that gets in our way,” Sandy mumbled, steering the horse out into the field.
Continuing on, each one pulled out an MRE. While they ate, they would throw some to the dogs. They were three miles north of McKenzie, Tennessee when they heard a torrent of gunfire erupt far away. Sandy glanced to the south. “Like Johnathan explained, gunfire moving back and forth means people are fighting,” Sandy blurted out, then tossed the rest of her food to Dan, who gobbled it up.
As they rode, Sandy noticed the vision in her right eye was slowly disappearing and shook her head, trying to wake her eye up. Closing her left eye behind the monocular, Sandy could barely see with her right. Tilting her head back, Sandy saw dark clouds overhead and no stars.
“Yeah, I smell rain, and the wind’s picking up,” Mary said.
Turning up the gain on her monocular so she could see better, “Fuck,” Sandy spat out, digging into Johnathan’s messenger bag. “I don’t think we’ll make Kentucky Lake.”
“From the lightening to the east, I don’t think we’ll make more than ten more miles.”
Studying the map with one eye that was using a monocular was a challenge. “Okay, I see where two creeks come together. We can make camp in the fork.”
Giving a groan, “Only thirty miles,” Mary said, then turned and saw lightening flashing to the east. “Can’t be helped.” Even with barns around them, neither felt safe sleeping in a structure anymore after losing Bill, so they didn’t bring it up.
After she had the messenger bag closed, Sandy kicked her horse into a trot. When they reached the spot, the rain was coming down hard and the two creeks were small rivers. Tying the horses up and hobbling them, they pulled out the small canvas tarps Johnathan had gotten from the Boy Scout camp. They set up a shelter for the saddles and then another for themselves.
Mary pulled out the thermos and Sandy dug out their coffee mugs and baggies of dog food. The dogs lay beside them and ate while Sandy and Mary stared at the rain, sipping coffee. Putting her mug down, Sandy dug a small bundle from Johnathan’s messenger bag.
Furrowing her brow, Mary watched Sandy tie one end to the tree they had run a line from for the tarp. Then Sandy tied the other end to the second tree they had used. Mary looked at the fishnet in the middle still confused. “It’s a hammock,” Sandy smiled. “Get some sleep, I’ll take first watch.”
Giving a sigh of relief, “Thought we were sleeping in the flowing mud,” Mary laughed. It took some work, but Mary finally managed to get into the small hammock. With her butt only six inches off the ground and the tarp inches from her face, Mary pulled the blanket up and was soon sound asleep as the thunder rippled overhead.
