Ana's Journey

PROLOGUE

1970

Washington

It was a day of celebration for the six gray haired ladies who sat around the table in the large kitchen of a modest ranch house. At first it would appear these women had nothing in common, they ranged in age from mid-forties to almost 70, tall and short, skinny to “could stand to lose a few pounds,” Hispanic, white, black and Asian. In fact, they had three things in common: all were female, all had some shade of grey or silver hair and most importantly, each had been the victim of domestic violence.

Having gained the courage to leave their husband, boyfriend, or in one case, adult son, they had each taken up residence at the same shelter. There they bonded, became friends, supported each other, fought and made up, and cried on each others’ shoulders. As they healed and began to prepare to move on from the shelter, they concocted what everyone, even their counselors, said was a crazy scheme destined to fail. But the women would not be dissuaded and two years prior to this night, they had pooled their meager savings, resources and skills, took out a loan to buy this property and set out on a new journey, what they called a rebirth.

They had spent 16 hour days reading how-to books, watching internet videos, taking workshops, and then applying what they had learned. Three months earlier they had put the final touches on this, their community home, and just that morning had completed the basic structure of the barn. They would attend an auction the next morning and by afternoon they should have livestock to fill it.

But tonight was a celebration. They had cooked a big meal, featuring fried chickens from their own flock and side dishes from their garden and orchard. Later, Beth Masterson from next door would come over and do their hair, giving them each that infamous blue hair rinse that was so popular for senior women. Before that, however, they would hang the sign that right now was the focus of their attention as they sipped their coffees fortified with Dr. Masterson’s special home brew.

The sign in question would hang on the gate over the entrance to the property. It was six foot by three foot, solid wood painted white and emblazoned with dark blue lettering: Blue Hair Farm.

Home Again

Chapter 1

Present Day

Day 15

“Go,” David barked, jabbing his finger towards the door. Then in a softer voice, “Please, Anabeth, just go.”

His wife knelt next to him and kissed him, then turned and walked with stilted, hesitant steps to the door. She stopped for a second and David thought, hating himself for hoping it, that she would come back. Instead she squared her shoulders, carefully looked around outside and stepped into the night, firmly closing the door behind her.

“Go,” Dave whispered this time, “our kids need you more than I do. I’ll follow as soon as I can.” But he doubted he would ever leave the empty room in this cold house. Drawing a thin blanket around himself, shivering in the cold despite the fire in the fireplace, he tried to understand how quickly their lives had fallen apart.

Day 1

David and Anabeth had hooked the trailer to their truck and loaded the prized bull they had recently sold to deliver it to the purchaser in Poulsbo. On the way home they planned to stop in Silverdale to do their monthly shopping at the local warehouse store, hit their favorite feed and farm store to pick up other items not available in their local stores and be home before dinner.

So far their day had gone as planned, except for the unexpected traffic jams, an infamous city problem they often forgot about living out in the country. But the bull had been delivered, they had taken time for a nice, but quick, breakfast and made it back to Silverdale by noon.

They crisscrossed the huge store in a dance they had practiced monthly over the years. Each grabbed needed items in the areas they were responsible for, stocking up on office supplies, toilet paper, linens and all the other things they couldn’t raise or grow but needed to keep a household going for a month. Their little town boasted a small feed store, grocery store, a couple of gas stations, hardware store, four restaurants and a few boutiques. But prices there were prohibitive (comparable to doing all one’s shopping in a gas station convenience store) and they only shopped locally when they needed something that couldn’t wait for the monthly trip.

Anabeth had spent a few minutes dithering over buying 18 triple rolls or 24 double rolls of toilet paper, and should she get the 2 ply which they preferred or the single ply which was easier on the septic? David was pacing and wanting her to just buy something, they needed to be on the road very soon to be home before dark and they hadn’t even been to the feed store yet. Just as he was telling her to "get one or the other, or just buy both packages dammit,” a cacophony of sound drowned him out. The raucous sound of a single alarm repeated through hundreds of cell phones was followed by exclamations of disbelief and dismay as shoppers throughout the store stared at their screens to read the Presidential alert warning:

Incoming missiles detected.

This is not a drill, shelter in place.

First there was an eerie silence, then the noise began again louder than before, people gasping, some whimpering, some beginning to weep. Others were asking what the hell was going on, as if they really thought anyone in the store had any information. Children, sensing their parents dismay, began wailing. David grabbed Anabeth’s arm and headed towards sporting goods. In shock, Ana was dragged like a kite at the end of a string, the jumbo pack of toilet paper flipping behind her like a tail.

David grabbed two large hiker’s packs off the shelf. Turning to hand one to Anabeth, he saw she was still clutching the pack of toilet paper in one hand and the other was holding the shopping cart in a death grip. He gently worked her hand free from the pack of toilet paper and dumped it into the cart while speaking with a calmness he didn’t feel, “Ana, honey, this is it. This is what we have been preparing for. This is what we did all the drills and practices for. Granted we expected to be at home when this happened, but if we remain calm and move quickly, we can get home.”

At barely 5’2”, Anabeth never seemed small, perhaps it was her huge personality people saw and remembered, but suddenly to David she looked like a frightened child. Her face always appeared pale in contrast to her jet black hair, but now it looked stark white and she shook her head in denial. She had humored David in his prepping plans, but never really believed it would be necessary. She had slacked off on drills, made excuses to avoid practices, and even gained 5 pounds when they were supposed to be staying in shape. She had never believed it would come to this, but here it was.

“The kids, David, what…”

“It’s OK,” fighting his own panic, he had spoken a little more loudly, a little more forcefully than he had intended. He took a deep breath calming himself before continuing, “Just listen to me, stay calm, we got this. We will be home with the kids tonight, tomorrow at the latest if we don’t panic. Now come on, stay with me.”

The clerk behind the counter, who couldn’t have been more than 20, was staring at his cell phone screen and the words still displayed there. “Excuse me,” David said. And the alarms went off again. Dave checked his cell, saw it was just a repeat of the same message and tried again to get the kid’s attention, but the boy simply turned his phone for Dave to read the message.

Losing patience, David reached out and grabbed a handful of the boy's shirt. At 6’ and a well muscled 205 pounds, David easily dragged the upper part of the kid’s body over the counter till he could lean into the boy’s face. “I want two rifles, ammo and I want them right now!”

The kid just stared at him. Dave let go and started around the counter, but the kid was faster. He tossed a key ring at David and ran for the exit. The third of the close to fifteen keys on the ring that David tried opened the gun display cabinet. He pulled out two Mossberg 500s, not his first choice but the best of the selection available, and handed them to his wife. The fourth key opened the storage cabinets under the counter. He pulled out boxes of ammo and stuffed them into his pack.

“Hey, I want one of those,” a deep voice cried. Several people echoed the sentiment and began moving towards the display. Dave grabbed his pack and his wife, and she the shopping cart, and they moved out of the way. As they worked their way to the front of the store, Dave continued to grab things off the shelves, rope, a first aid kit, fishing line, flashlights and batteries. All things he routinely kept in the bug out bags in the car, but his motto was, “Never pass up a chance to salvage.”

He made a quick detour to the men’s department where he grabbed hiking boots and heavy jackets, just guessing at what men’s size his wife would wear as Anabeth was in a daze and didn’t offer any help.

All around them panic was starting to set in, people were already jostling each other to grab supplies from the shelf, angry words were being exchanged and a fistfight had broken out. Twice David had to stop people from taking items from their cart which Anabeth still clung to like a lifeline.

As they approached the registers, David elbowing people out of their way, Anabeth seemed to come alive; as if suddenly remembering the need to stock up, she reached out and grabbed bags of chips, candy bars and nuts. She gave Dave a sheepish half grin of apology and turned the cart towards the cashier. Dave grabbed the front and pulled it towards the exit. “No time,” was the only explanation he offered as they jostled their way through a crowd of like minded customers escaping with their unpaid-for goods.

When they approached the outside doors, the retiree manning them said, “Receipts please,” in the most normal of voices as if the entire world wasn’t going to hell around them. “I need your receipts,” she droned again, but Anabeth, David and the others pushed past her, ignoring her demands. As they walked through the sliding doors pushed open by the crowd ahead of them, the alarms went off. It took a second to realize it wasn’t the shoplifting alarm, but their cell phones again.

1 of 2 messages

Incoming missiles detected.

This is not a drill, shelter in place.

There was never a second message. There was a bright, bright light in the far distance and the horizon lit up for several seconds.

And then there was nothing.

And then there was chaos. The crowd began to scream even louder than before and push towards their cars. David, Ana and their newly acquired family member, Mr. Cart, were carried along by the madding crowd. Ana struggled to hold on to the cart; David steered their course in the direction of his truck while simultaneously batting errant hands away from their haul. The further they got from the store, the faster the crowd dispersed.

“Shit, shit, shit,” David muttered. His mind was racing. He was sure they had just witnessed, at best, an EMP high in the atmosphere, at worst, a nuclear strike. He was running scenarios in his head, should they seek shelter for a week to avoid radiation? Should they try to outrun it and get home to their kids? What route should they take? Avoid the freeway and take longer on the back roads or risk getting stuck in traffic, accidents or losing their car to a carjacker. Or…

“Let’s go home to the kids, take the back roads and hopefully avoid traffic and other drama.” Anabeth was back in the game, reading him as only she could, offering calming advice. She slid her hand into his and David marvelled, as he often did, how well the two of them fit and worked together despite their difference in size. Hand in hand they walked the lot together still dragging that damned shopping cart, which now seemed to be an extension of her body, behind them.

On high alert, they constantly scanned the lot, looking for anyone approaching them, anyone with a weapon, anyone who might be a problem, or anything that might be out of the ordinary. ‘As if anything will ever be ordinary again,’ David thought. All around them car doors were being opened, slammed shut, opened again and hoods flung up.

Something in Anabeth’s peripheral vision caught her eye. Looking to her side, she saw a huge shadow overtaking them. Looking up she was shocked to see a jet passing over them so low she could see the passengers in the windows, their mouths open in silent screams, their faces contorted in fear. She stopped short, causing David to stop also. Together they watched the plane as the plane continued its descent, silently dropping closer and closer to the ground. A whoosh of air hit them hard enough to rock them, almost causing them to fall. Unable to tear their eyes away, they watched in horror as the great bird nosed into the ground and immediately erupted in a giant fireball. It took only a second for the ear shattering sound to reach their ears.

They were still standing, shocked, watching the flames leap into the sky and black smoke roiling up from the crash site, when another shadow overtook them.

“Dear God,” Ana whispered as she realized every plane in the sky was going to fall to earth. Her husband, reaching the same realization, tugged her hand and got them moving again. There was no time to waste. Because the trailer was still attached, they had had to park at the far end of the lot, diagonally across four spaces. Ana counted four more crashes before her mind, in self defense, blocked the rest. Soon she heard only the slamming of car doors and the curses of the drivers wondering why their vehicles would not start.

As they neared their truck, David looked under it, then in the windows to make sure no one was hiding, that nothing had been tampered with. He raised his key fob, aimed it at the truck and pressed the lock open button. Nothing.

Of course, all electronics were fried. The remote and the electric locks were just as dead as the truck was. He used the key to open the door, grateful that the fried electronics also meant the alarm was dead, and pulled out their bug out bags. Six bags plus the two from the store, no way they could carry all of them.

He unzipped them and started sorting through them according to their new priorities. They were still going to go home to their children, but now they were looking at a two day fast march instead of a two hour drive. They would need warm clothes, blankets for sleeping, hiking boots instead of the running shoes they both had on, compass, flashlights and of course extra ammo, food, water and a map. He quickly decided to pack as much as possible into three bags; he would carry two, his wife one, and they would each have one of the new shotguns strapped to their backs. They usually had on their person their EDC gear, a multi tool knife, bracelets and belts made of paracord, a flint and a whistle on their keychains, a handgun, properly holstered and legally concealed. Except for today because the store they were in was a “gun free zone,” they were unarmed.

David cursed himself for following what he felt was a constitution-violating requirement to leave his weapon in the car and was reaching for said weapon when he heard a stranger saying, “I’ll take that,” just as Anabeth called out, “David!”

He turned slowly to face two men, men who spent too much time at the gym and not enough time in school or at work. Men who were wanting to take all of their supplies and leave them defenseless. Men who would keep them from getting home to their children. Dave gently eased Anabeth behind him, putting her between himself and the truck. His larger frame provided coverage, completely blocking her from the men’s sight. Then he subtly, step by slow step, moved away from her and the vehicle without threatening the men, careful to always keep their attention focused on him, his wife to be forgotten.

“Look guys, we can’t carry it all. Let us take just a couple of the bags, just what we need to get home to our kids. You can have the rest.”

“Or we can take it all,” the smaller of the two men said. The other man, bigger and apparently stupider, grinning and nodding at his buddy, stepped forward. David took a defensive fighting stance, readying himself to start throwing punches.

“Or, you can walk away. Or I can fill you full of lead,” Anabeth joined the conversation. Out of the corner of his eye, David saw her holding a gun on the men. She had managed to get the center console unlocked and get her gun out while he was talking.

“Dude, we were just joking with you. Didn’t mean nothing. No harm, no foul, right? We cool?” the smaller man ran his mouth as he and his friend started backing away. “Yeah dude, we cool,” the less intelligent companion echoed.

“Get out of here, now,” Anabeth snarled and both men turned and ran. “Sorry, honey, I was watching that guy over there and never saw those two yokels.”

“It’s ok. We just have to be more careful from now on,” Dave replied as he strapped on his weapon and began picking through the shopping cart, ignoring his racing heart. He opted for the two larger hiking backpacks they had just acquired plus one of their BOBs and began transferring the selected items into them. He found room in each bag for one roll from the infamous toilet paper pack, then added 6 bottles of water, the contents of the remaining BOBs and about half of the additional supplies they had just grabbed. The nuts, protein and candy bars Anabeth had snagged were tucked into their shirt and pants pockets, as were some of the granola bars they picked up in the grocery section. Finally, he handed Anabeth an apple, took a banana for himself and a bag of chips and a bottle of water for each.

In the midst of the chaos, despite their rush to get home, they took five minutes to eat and drink, not knowing when they would have another chance After Ana strapped on her weapon, they picked up their packs and rifles, Dave grabbed them each a hat and pair of sunglasses from the truck. Finally ready to leave, Dave closed the truck door, patted it and said, “Goodbye, old girl.” He loved his truck, she was an older model, but still new enough to have computer components that were fried.

***

Although the store was only 5 blocks from the edge of town, getting out proved to be a challenge. Twice before they even got out of the parking lot, unsavory characters approached them. And twice David deliberately swept his shirttail back showing his weapon tucked between his undershirt and pants. The first man immediately picked another target but the second, a group of three, took several agonizing seconds before changing their minds and changing direction. A third group, a small family raised their hands and only the father approached.

“Please, can you help us?’

“Sorry, man,” David said, “we have to get home to our own family. But our truck is over there, if you hurry there are some supplies left in it.”

“I don’t need your truck, just a jump. My car won’t start, I’m sure it’s just a dead battery.”

“It’s not just your car, look around. Whatever that was, it has knocked out everything electrical and electronic. Your car is dead and there is no reviving it.”

“What are we supposed to do?” the man asked, fear raising his voice to a whine.

“Like I said, grab what supplies you can carry from my truck and start walking. Move fast because this is all going to turn to shit really fast. Go home, lock your doors and don’t trust anyone.”

David grabbed Ana’s elbow and began marching her away quickly before the startled man could react. “God help us,” he said, “God help us and them and everyone else. People aren’t just unprepared, they aren’t going to be able to accept this is really happening. That man and his family will be dead within the week.”

“David, we have to do something, we have to help them.”

David stopped abruptly and spun Ana to face him. Leaning in, looking her straight in the eye he said, “We can’t, Ana. You know this, we discussed this in our plans. We can’t help everyone. And each person we do try to help can turn on us, or delay us getting home to the kids, or take supplies we are going to need to save our children.

“That’s your choice, Ana, right here, right now. Are you going to choose that man and his family or will you choose our children? “

Ana stared back at her husband for several long moments. Her eyes teared up, her lip trembled. It was against her nature to not help, but she knew he was right. She pulled her hand out of his, swiped at her eyes and said, “Let’s go.”

Leaving the lot, they turned onto the main highway hoping to be out of town before any real violence began, but they were too late. Two blocks down they were passing a furniture showroom when the large display window blew out in front of them. A man landed on the sidewalk just feet from them, bleeding from hundreds of small cuts caused by sliding over pieces of shattered safety glass. He was followed almost immediately by an ottoman thrown by the proprietor. “…and stay the hell out,” the angry shop owner shouted.

In the next block a fight was in progress in the parking lot of a convenience store, while inside people were destroying almost as much merchandise as they were stealing. David and Ana looked at each other and shook their heads. Neither could explain why, in times of crisis, people felt the need to loot non-essential items like big screen TVs and other electronics or destroy useful items like food. But they wasted no time discussing it, just the fact that such behavior had already started made them even more aware they needed to get out of the city fast.

The clerk was on the phone screaming for someone to send help, so panicked he didn’t seem to notice the phone was inoperative. Another clerk was waving a pistol and yelling for everyone to get out. When he started firing warning shots into the walls and ceilings, David and Anabeth began running. Once past the store, they turned down an alley and continued running for several blocks until they reached a small park. Scanning the area, David spied a quiet eating area under some trees that appeared relatively safe. They made their way to the picnic table there and stopped to catch their breath and choose a new route home.

As David removed his backpack, Anabeth exclaimed, “David, you’re bleeding.”

A thin stripe of blood crossed his shirt from under his shoulder blade on the right to just above his left kidney. Ana lifted his shirt and saw a corresponding scrape just deep enough to draw blood to the surface. “Dave, I think you’ve been shot, just a graze.” She dropped his shirt and examined it, then looked at his pack. “Look, there’s a hole in the strap, the bullet went through here, then between your pack and your back. There are entrance and exit holes in your shirt.”

David tried to contort his neck to see his back until Anabeth held up a mirror for him to see. “I’ll be damned, I didn’t even feel it! Must have been the adrenaline. ”

“It doesn’t hurt? ”

“Well, shit, now it does. Damn, that stings.”

“Hand me the first aid kit and I’ll clean it up.”

“No. No time, we need to get back on the road.”

Anabeth caught her husband’s face in her hands and turned his head to force him to look into her eyes unaware of the irony that less than an hour earlier he had given her a similar reality check.

“David, in this situation even a small cut can be fatal if it gets infected and we don’t have access to antibiotics. I may not have always been paying attention to everything you tried to teach me, but you said that often enough it stuck.

“It’s not a serious wound, but it broke the skin, drew blood, if it isn’t cleaned it will get infected. Speed is important, but so is your health. Now give me the kit and don’t argue.”

David smiled and teasingly saluted before digging into his pack. He was glad to hear he had gotten through to her about some things. He was always the one concerned with being prepared, the one who planned, bought supplies, scheduled training and practices. Anabeth didn’t disagree with him, but he knew she never was wholeheartedly invested in the plan and simply went along to get along. So he found it encouraging that some of the training had stuck: her calmness in getting the gun out of the truck, holding it on the men – though he doubted she would have been able to fire it at them -- her willingness to follow his lead without question and now her insistence on treating his albeit minor wound.

“Now what?” Ana asked, “It’s obvious we can’t continue down the main highway. How far off the beaten path do you think we need to go?”

Consulting the map, he said, “There is an access road that parallels the highway.” Tracing the road on the map he continued, “It goes on south past where the highway turns. It’s not the most direct route and it’s through a lot of open farmland and it adds about….10 or 12 miles to the trip, but…”

“…but keeps us off the freeway and less chance of getting lost than going completely off road,” Anabeth completed his sentence. She finished dressing his wound, repacked the kit and they picked up their packs and started walking. Sometimes words weren’t necessary. A shorter route might mean getting home an hour earlier, but getting lost could add days to their journey.

***

Day 15

David’s leg hurt and when he tried to straighten it, the agony shooting from hip to toe brought him back to the present and his predicament. He shook the pain pills out of the bottle and counted them. He had 20 tablets to last him 72 hours, less than 2 tablets every six hours.

“Screw it,” he thought and tossed back four of the white tablets with a half bottle of water. Water, something else he would need to ration. Like the pain pills, he would deal with that later. No doubt he would regret that decision, but right now he was cold, in pain, hungry, dehydrated and depressed.

He did the one thing that always made him feel better, he thought of his family. Anabeth, his wife, whom he met when his roommate set them up on a blind date. By the end of their second date, he knew she was the one he would marry.

They had both been raised in the country, learned to farm and care for animals from a young age. But each had left that life shortly after graduating high school. They met in college, fell in love, got married and stayed in Seattle to build their careers. In time they started an internet business in addition to their careers as a banker and a teacher, bought a house and had kids.

Kimber, now 15, was the model child, responsible, mature, loving, wise beyond her years. She was one of those extremely rare people who actually learned from others’ mistakes. Kimber walked the straight and narrow, making the honor roll, serving on the student council, and doing volunteer work while keeping up with her chores at home.

Kimber’s younger brother, Joseph, was nothing like his sister. He wasn’t really a bad kid, but he was into computers and online gaming. He would rather talk online to people he had never met than hold a conversation with his own family. Nightly there was a battle to get him to put down his phone and join the conversation around the dinner table. He would shirk his chores in favor of role playing games on the internet. He got passing grades in school, in the subjects that interested him, but was failing science and math. Getting him to do his chores was an experience both parents dreaded, and asking him to go above and beyond...well that wasn’t even considered.

Four months ago, Kimber had asked to stay home on the first Saturday of the month, the day the whole family would drive into town and pick up supplies for the month. Anabeth was willing, but David insisted Joseph stay with her. Despite his many faults, David knew his son was a good kid and would be there for his sister if there were any problems.

After three months of the two older kids being home alone, and with Kimber approaching her 15th birthday, they decided today to leave the twins home also.

Jamie and Jackie were 8 years old. Many people noticed the gap in ages between the older two and the twins and assumed the twins were a “surprise.” In fact, when Joseph was two, David and Anabeth made a life changing decision. Within a 3 month span, David had been mugged, their home was burglarized and an uninsured driver ran a stop light totaling their car.

They decided city life really wasn’t for them. Their business was doing fine and could be run from home whether home was in a bustling metropolis or a rambling farmhouse in the country. They spent many weeks deciding what they wanted their new life to look like, what skills they would need to be successful and what it would cost.

For the next 3 years they practiced the skills they used every day, brushed up on skills they had let slide and took classes to learn new ones. The kids were given simple chores that were gradually increased in difficulty and time to get them ready to become self sufficient. They doubled their efforts at work to earn more money, cut every luxury from their budget, cut coupons, reused rather than replaced clothing, tools, cars and household items. Every penny earned, saved or found was deposited into a special account they called The Moving Fund. In just under four years, with what they had saved and what they got from selling their house, the second car, and a lot of really unnecessary personal belongings, they were ready to start their new journey.

They found a modest farm with a 5 bedroom house, a barn and 20 acres, ten of which were already planted with crops, and a weather beaten sign proudly proclaimed this as the Blue Hair Farm.

They had no intention of keeping the old blue and white sign, dangling from just one eye hook or the name, but when the neighbors told them the story of six old ladies and their journey, they were proud to repaint and rehang the sign. It seemed appropriate as they were also starting a new journey, a symbolic rebirth. They invested in some chickens and goats for eggs and milk, and two calves and some piglets to raise for meat. Their first year their goal was simply to be sure they could provide enough food for their family.

The next year’s goal was to produce enough meat, fruit and vegetables to feed themselves and have enough to preserve for the future. By year three, they were meeting those goals and selling the excess food for a tidy second income. Feeling financially secure, they were ready to continue building their family and just 13 months later the twins were born.

Life was good and had been going according to plan, until this morning when they made the fateful decision to leave the children home. And until this afternoon when someone else made a fatal decision to push a nuclear button.

David ran pictures of their faces through the screen in his mind, focusing on each detail he could remember. He wondered what the kids would look like as adults, wishing he could be around to see them. He worried if Ana and the kids would be able to go on without him, there were so many chores around the farm he had not yet taught them, when to plant and harvest the crops, how to sharpen the saws, shovels and other tools. Only Ana knew how to drive the tractor, none knew how to use a chainsaw or fell a tree. He had only just begun teaching the twins gun safety, Kimber and Joseph could fire a gun but neither was really interested in putting in the time for target practice.

What should have been an exercise in relaxation only served to stress David more and he finally fell into a fitful sleep filled with nightmares of the coming horrors for his family without him.

Day 2

“Here, put these on,” David tossed a spare pair of socks to Anabeth. He had noticed she was limping and correctly assessed the hiking boots he had grabbed in such a rush were too big for her. Although they were better than the sneakers she had been wearing, the looseness of the boots had caused blisters to develop on her feet. By his estimation, they had traveled only about 8 miles and it was important to take care of their feet if they were to make it all the way home.

Anabeth smiled her thanks, took a long drink from her water bottle and sat down to remove her boots.

She was worried, she didn’t want to say anything, but she was concerned they had traveled such a short distance since this had all started. After getting out of town they made good time on the open road but by sundown they were both tired and stopped at the first place that looked safe.

They had been up with the sun and back on the road after a quick breakfast of a granola bar and a bottle of water. They saw quite a few people moving down the roads, all determined to get home or at least as far away from the city as fast as possible. Some were stopping to rummage through cars grabbing things of value, and there were a few fights, but most people were focused on walking and avoiding the troublemakers.

The crowd thinned the further south they got, some people turning west towards unknown destinations, others choosing to stay in vacant homes, a few actually reaching their destinations. Eventually Ana and David were the only ones in sight on the road and they had high hopes that they could be home tomorrow as they continued to make good time. Until they came to a small farm.

The house was set back from the road but still easily visible. From a distance they could hear voices raised in anger, and then several gunshots.

They ran to a small outbuilding in the pasture and hid. Peeking around the corner, they could see a group of five people ducking and running, leapfrogging from car to tree to anything that could provide cover. They surmised the group did not live there but had either asked for help or tried to force their way into the home. Whatever their intentions had been, the homeowner wasn’t amenable, he was standing on the front porch taking shots at the intruders as they tried to leave. After about 15 minutes the five had worked their way far enough away that the resident gave up and went back inside.

They waited another half hour, then David got out his compass and map and plotted a new course through fields instead of on the open road. The new route took them a little off course but they agreed staying alive was more important than speed. Moving quickly and taking cover behind barns, sheds, trees, even large boulders they worked their way across three more farms before they were spotted. They had been sneaking behind the barn, a little closer than comfortable to an occupied house when they stepped around the corner and came face to face with the business end of a rifle. Immediately they both raised their hands.

“We don’t want any trouble,” David said, “we’re just trying to get home to our kids.” The man with the rifle wasn’t overly aggressive, but he wasn’t a push over either.

“Which way you headed?”

“South, we’re avoiding the main road, it’s not safe.”

“You’re not safe here either. Walk,” he gestured with his rifle. Ana looked at David who took her hand and started walking in the direction indicated by the rifle. The farmer marched them at a good pace and didn’t speak until they reached the fence denoting his property line.

“Over the fence with you, keep walking, don't look back. Don’t come back either. I see you again, I will shoot.”

“Understoo…” David started to say.

“Go,” the farmer barked, interrupting him, gesturing with his rifle for emphasis. David climbed to the top of the fence, threw his leg over and reached down to help Ana over. On the other side they walked quickly away and kept moving until they reached a small orchard. Taking cover in the trees, David risked a look back. The farmer was still standing at the fence, watching them.

Being late fall, the nectarine trees amongst which they found themselves were bare of fruit. Some rotting pieces still lay on the ground, beyond the point of eating except perhaps by someone starving. Not that it mattered, with the irate gunman still watching them David would not risk anything that could even remotely be considered stealing or pillaging.

“Let’s keep moving,” he told his wife. They moved stealthily through fields, horse pastures, back yards, over irrigation ditches and even a small stream. After about 3 miles they found themselves in a stand of trees about 15 feet deep, perhaps a wind break, or a property line marker or just a privacy barrier. Whatever the reason for the trees, they provided a relatively safe place to make camp.

***

As Anabeth finished pulling on her boots after adding the second pair of socks, David told her they should rest for a while. “Keep your boots on in case we have to move fast. Sorry but no fire, someone might see it, we will just have to cuddle. Let’s plan on sleeping for a couple of hours then start walking again. We’ll have to find somewhere more secure before sunup, sleep through the days and walk at night.”

Anabeth noticed he was now talking in terms of days, plural. She was worried sick about the kids. Were they ok? Would they stay home, keep the doors locked, not let anyone in? Or would they reach out to neighbors, try to come looking for their parents or make some other unwise choices. She sighed, there was no way to know and worrying about it wouldn’t change the situation.

“I know,” David said as if reading her mind, “they will be ok. They’re our kids, right? We taught them well. Now try to get some rest.” He pulled her tighter in his arms, stroked her back and kissed her hair, trying to give her the reassurance he didn’t feel himself. Despite all his planning and prepping, David was feeling lost, he didn’t know how they were going to make it home. And even if they did, if the rest of his plans unravelled as quickly as the get home plan had, they would be in big trouble.

“I’ll try to rest, but I know I won’t sleep.” Five minutes later she was snoring. David held his wife and kept watch. Sleep eluded him.

***

Day 3

“Ana. Anabeth. Wake up, we need to get moving.”

“Coffee,” Ana groaned from that place partway between dreams and reality.

“Sorry, honey, best I can offer is an MRE and a bottle of water.”

“What? Oh,” the change in her voice as memory returned with all the overwhelming facts told David she was fully awake. He wanted to comfort her, reassure her that they would be home soon and all would be well, but he didn’t have the heart to lie to her. Nor did he think she would believe him.

Instead he offered her her choice of meals. “There was only room for half the MREs from the bug out bags, after this it’s protein bars and junk food or whatever we can find on the way.”

Ana accepted the food and began eating. “What time is it?”

“Just after midnight. I figure we have close to 6 hours before sunup, we should be able to make close to 25 miles.”

‘Twenty five miles,’ Ana thought, ‘at this rate it will be three days before we’re home.’ Her appetite deserting her, Ana offered her food to her husband.

“No,” he said, “you need to eat. I know you’re upset, so am I. It’s killing me not being able to get to the kids faster. But we need to eat to keep up our strength.”

Ana knew he was right, although they did a lot of hard physical labor on their farm, the constant stress and walking non stop through uneven fields was draining their energy. She picked up her food and choked down one tasteless bite after another.

When they had finished eating and drinking, they picked up their gear and David policed the area for any trash. “Force of habit,” he said, “Ready?’

“I want to check your wound, maybe change the bandage, make sure it’s not infected.”

“It’s fine,” David said, then hearing her scoff added, “In the morning, before we sleep you can check it then. I promise you, it’s fine now.” He turned away from her as he pulled on his pack, hiding the wince of pain as its weight scraped across his injury.

Ana wasn’t happy but picked up her pack and they headed out into the moonless night.

***

Day 5

“Dave, stop. I can’t go any farther,” Anabeth said, choking back a sob. Her only goal, her complete focus right now was getting home to their kids. But two more nights of walking across uneven fields with stumps of grass, corn stalks, gopher holes and a myriad other natural items made the trip far worse. At times she felt as though she were in a dream, that one dream where you run and run and run but don’t get anywhere. Except in her dreams her legs never ached like this, her feet never felt like they were on fire. Her heart and her mind, wanting to keep going non-stop until they were safely home, were at war with her body which said, no more.

David was concerned about his wife’s ability to make the long walk home. He was also concerned about the fever he had developed; he was sure the wound on his back was infected, but he couldn’t see it and sure as hell wasn’t going to ask Ana to look at it. ‘It’s all going to shit a lot faster than I expected,’ Dave thought to himself. Each night they saw more unsavory people on the roads, making it necessary to spend more time in hiding than walking. They had also seen a lot of burned buildings and in every direction, they saw smoke from other burning buildings.

Out loud he pondered, “Why burn the buildings? I get looting, everyone needs supplies. Even those who prepped will always be on the lookout for more supplies…”

“Never pass up an opportunity to salvage,” Anabeth interrupted to quote his favorite motto to him.

He smiled and continued, “Seriously, why burn the buildings? They can provide shelter, or materials to build or repair other buildings. And you can be sure they aren’t empty of salvageable goods. Nobody could have cleared out that many buildings this fast.”

“It’s a new world, love, and not necessarily the best people are going to survive, or even be running things.

“I need to rest,” she said through tears she was unaware were leaking from her eyes, “please?” and she dropped to the ground. David had been good about taking lots of rest stops but still, every muscle in her body hurt. Despite the extra socks she had blisters on both feet, not just the heels but the sides of her big and little toes and even across the tops of her toes. Her shoulders and back were screaming from the weight of her pack and without her allergy medicines, her sinuses were so bad she was wheezing and breathing through her mouth.

David rushed to her side fearing the worst, but found she was conscious and alert. She had just reached her limit.

“Leave me. Go home and make sure our kids are safe,” she whispered.

David stood and looked around in the faint light of a new moon. “This next house looks empty and the barn looks in decent shape. We can stop there tonight and tomorrow. We’ll rest and be back on the road tomorrow night.”

“No, you need to go on without me, we’ve been gone too long already. The kids…” Anabeth’s voice petered out.

“I’m not leaving you here. We taught our kids well, I’m sure they are ok.” They both knew he was lying. They had taught the children well. But he couldn't speak for the character of the people they had seen, and so far avoided, on the road. Some were innocent city dwellers moving out into the country in search of food and escaping the senseless violence of the cities. Others were just plain bad people, the ones who realized that as society was breaking down and laws were not being enforced, the world was their own personal candy store. The stronger ones no doubt were establishing their own fiefdoms in the cities, while the weaker but just as evil ones were moving out into the countryside.

Trying another tact, David added, “I can use some rest too.” What he didn’t say was he was sure the sore on his back was infected. He had managed to deflect and distract all of Ana’s attempts to treat it so she had not even seen it since the first day. Now it hurt like hell and he could feel the damp oozing of the pus. He sighed, it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle and worrying wouldn’t make it any better. He pulled Ana to her feet, pulled her arm around his shoulders, slipped his arm around her waist and grabbed her belt. It was awkward at first, trying to balance with their packs on their backs and each holding their rifle while he supported most of her weight, but soon they fell into a rhythm and moved slowly across the field.

An hour later they had scouted the barn, decided it was safe, moved in and made themselves as comfortable as they could. David was appalled to see the condition of Ana’s feet when she removed her boots and socks. He quickly grabbed some water and the first aid kit, cleaning and bandaging her feet. He was glad he hadn’t said anything about his back, they were going to need all the antibiotic ointment for her feet. By the time he was finished, his wife was asleep slumped against some bales of hay. He sat down next to her, pulled a blanket over both of them, laid the shotguns across their laps for easy access and closed his eyes for a couple of minutes.

When he opened them again, it was daylight and a large man and a very small woman were standing over them holding their rifles.

“Good morning sunshine,” the man chuckled unpleasantly, “didn’t mean to wake you. We’re just gonna take what we need and then we will be on our way.” The man’s companion upended the last of their backpacks, the contents of the others were already on the floor, and started sifting through it.

“Score!” she said, “they’ve got some nice stuff in this one.”

“Please,” David said, “we’re just trying to get home to our kids.” Despite the gravity of their situation, his mind took a little detour, replaying every time he had said those words in the last few days, “I need a new line,” he thought. He looked up at Billy looking back at him and continued, “My wife is injured. We’ll share what we have if you’ll leave us what we need.”

“Aw did you hear that, Billy? They gotta get home to their babies,” the woman mocked them. Then her voice turned ugly yet sad. “At least they have babies to go home to.” Obviously David had touched a raw nerve as Billy physically blanched at the woman’s words.

“Whaddya say, Midge, if they’re nice and don’t give us no trouble,” Billy sneered, “ maybe we’ll let them keep their lives.

“Or maybe I’ll just kill you right here. “ He pointed the shotgun at David’s head. “Bang! Bang! Bang!” he yelled and laughed humorlessly.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Three shots rang out for real, one hole appeared in the blanket, two holes appeared in the man’s chest and and a third in his forehead. David tossed the blanket aside and brought his handgun up to point it at the woman’s head.

His warning of “Don’t move” went unheeded as the enraged woman screamed and swung the shotgun towards him. David moved fast, pushing the barrel of the shotgun aside and followed that with a boot to her side. She went down hard but managed to hold on to the shotgun.

“Drop it,” David yelled; she did not comply. Crawling towards her husband’s body, Midge cursed David for killing him. Screaming, spouting obscenities, spittle flying from her mouth, she fell on top of his body, making an outrageous show of grief.

David took a second to check on Anabeth. She was wide awake and wide eyed, obviously she had awakened with a shock but managed to remain calm, assess the situation and not make any sudden moves. Now she let out a long held breath and gave her husband a what the hell just happened look, her eyes going from her spouse to the dead body on the floor.

David turned to see what she was looking at and it hit him with the force of a fist to the gut, driving breath out of his lungs. He had just killed a man. It was something he had practiced for for years, but not anything he had ever expected to do. He hadn’t thought about it, it wasn’t planned, he just reacted. Muscle memory they called it. And now another memory hit him, he should have disarmed the man and made sure he was dead or at least incapacitated.

It was only as he turned to do so, he remembered something else. Midge had been holding Anabeth’s gun. He lunged to his side just in time to avoid the lead whizzing past his head. He stumbled and went face first into a 6x6 support beam, his gun went flying. Before he could recover, he heard the distinct sound of the shotgun being cocked.

Midge screamed.

Anabeth had tackled her and knocked them both to the ground. As they struggled, the shotgun went off again. Shreds of paper, canvas and food exploded into the air as the errant shot tore through one of the packs and escaped through the side of the barn.

Despite her small stature, Midge was fighting like a wild animal. Her nails raked across Anabeth’s face leaving three stripes of blood. Her other hand freed a large clump of hair from Ana’s scalp. Somehow she managed to push Ana off of her, regained her feet and began kicking Anabeth. David jumped into the fray, and took a rifle butt in the gut for his effort, then a knee to the face while he was doubled in pain. He managed to wrap his arms around his child-sized opponent, swing her around and slam her into the same support beam he had recently become acquainted with.

What he thought would have been a game ending blow, only served to enrage Midge and she attacked with even more ferocity than before. Hands, feet, even her head became weapons as she hit, scratched, kicked, bit and head butted him. The rifle was still clutched firmly in her hand, but she seemed to have forgotten its purpose, instead using it as a club to rain blows at his head. David used raised hands only to deflect the blows, since he could see Anabeth searching for his lost weapon and he felt the fight would be over soon enough without him having to hit a woman.

And then Midge clocked him, one solid punch to the eye when he had been distracted. It hurt like hell and he knew he would bear that mark for a while, without thinking he hit back. Hard. And Midge dropped.

“Freeze!” Anabeth yelled, spinning to face them, David’s pistol in her hands.

“We really need to work on your timing,” was his only comment.

***

Day 6

“Are we still doing this?” Ana asked.

Once she was sure David was relatively uninjured, Anabeth had secured the weapons, checked on Midge to make sure she was still alive, tied her hands and feet, and treated David’s injuries and then he, hers. They had debated what to do with Midge and the body. They didn’t want to risk Midge coming after them with a vendetta, but couldn’t justify leaving her tied up not knowing if anyone would come to help her. Especially not with her husband’s body lying next to her.

As Ana tended to David’s injuries, they agreed on a plan, bury Bill, collect and repack their bags, sleep till nightfall and hit the road. They would leave some water and a dull knife within Midge’s reach. It would be a slow job, she should be able to cut the ropes and free herself, but not before they put some distance between her and themselves.

“Take your shirt off,” Ana said when David started repacking the first aid kit.

“What? Why?”

“You’ve been favoring your back, I just want to take a look at that bullet wound.”

David rolled his eyes, leave it to his wife to call a graze a ‘bullet wound,’ but lifted his shirt. Ana’s hiss when she looked at his back confirmed his concerns. “It’s infected, David, you’ve got green pus forming. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why would I? We have limited medical supplies, I’m sure it will heal on its own.” He recognized the look Ana gave him, it was the one that she gave the kids when they had pushed her to her limits. David removed his shirt without another word, he knew this was one battle he would not win. Best to just give in and get it over with so they could get on with burying the dead man.

***

Now digging a grave is not as easy as some TV shows make it out to be. It is hard work, and it takes a long time to dig a hole deep enough to bury a body so that wild animals can’t dig it up again. It’s even harder when both the people doing the digging are beaten, bruised and exhausted. When the hole reaches a certain depth, equal to about half the length of the digging implement, it is not possible to continue working from ground level, it necessitates one getting into the hole to dig.

Ana hopped in and began shoveling the dirt into a bucket which she handed up to David to empty. By the time the hole was of sufficient size, the sun was setting, and David had to reach a hand in and pull Ana out. Burying the man took longer than expected, too.

For all the trouble he had caused them, he was – or had been – a human being and just dumping him in the grave didn’t seem proper. So they tried to lower him as carefully as they could, but still managed to drop him the last three or so feet and he landed badly, one arm under him, one over his back and his ass facing up as though trying to kiss the sky. David had to climb into the hole and lay him out properly.

Moving 180 pounds of dead weight is also not an easy thing, trying to do it in a hole only two and a half feet wide is nearly impossible. Long minutes later, David was finally done. And stuck in the hole. Ana had to run back to the barn and find a ladder, lug it back out to the site for David to climb out.

Filling a hole that size is certainly easier than digging it, but it is still a time consuming chore. And when done, it seemed only proper to say a prayer and find some stones for a marker.

Back in the barn, Midge had regained consciousness but would not speak. Ana offered her food and water, asked if she was injured, if she was comfortable. While she had not pulled the trigger, and David had been justified in defending himself, Ana still felt guilt for the loss of Midge’s husband and wanted to do anything to make amends, but Midge ignored her.

Together Dave and Ana collected the contents of the backpacks and inventoried their dwindling resources. Based on the empty wrappers and crushed water bottles they found, Bill and Midge had feasted while they slept.

“I guess the only bright side to this,” Ana said, “is that it will all fit into two packs.” She held up the third pack and passed her hand and forearm through the holes left by the shotgun.

“The only bright side. We are almost out of food, and we’ve used most of our first aid supplies. We’re going to need to find somewhere to restock.”

“You don’t mean…”

“Yes, we are going to have to risk going into stores or empty houses. We’ll head out in the morning, we have to risk travelling in daylight, flashlights in empty buildings at night will draw too much attention. You sleep and I’ll take the first watch.” Although with Midge softly sobbing, neither would sleep well.

The next morning Anabeth asked, “Are we still doing this?”

“She’ll be alright, it will take a while but she will be able to free herself. We’ll leave her some food and water, although,“ Dave said, hefting his too light pack, “I think she’s had more to eat than both of us combined in the last 24 hours.

“Besides, what other choice do we have?” he asked.

“You can kill me,” Midge said, the first words she had uttered since David had hit her the day before. “Just do it. Bill was all I had left, now he and the baby are dead, I don’t want to live in this world anymore.”

Dave and Ana looked at each other and then at Midge. His decision made, Dave hoisted his gun, took Anabeth’s arm and turned her to the door. With a small push he got her walking, then turned to Midge, said “Goodbye, believe it or not I am sorry for what happened and I wish you well. Just don’t follow us,” and trailed his wife into the sunshine.

***

Day 10

A two hour trip home had turned into a two day march that was now midway through its second week. ‘I’m never going to see my kids again,’ Anabeth thought. By Dave’s calculations, they had only covered about 35 miles of their 70 mile trip. Now they were off course by at least ten miles. They had detoured five miles out of their way to a small town of about 700 people, in search of supplies.

All along the way they had seen people on the move, some just looking for somewhere to settle, others travelling to a specific destination but needing food, water and shelter along the way. These were mostly peaceful people, only wanting to be left alone. Still others were out for anything and everything they could get with a party-like-it’s-the-end-of-the-world-because-it-is attitude. These were the ones who would attack and kill without a second thought, who would take anything and everything you had whether they needed it or not. The less desirable among them were the kind who thought of torture and rape as sport.

These were the ones Dave and Ana needed to avoid, the problem was you couldn’t always tell which was which. The most needy family with the small child could really be a heartless couple using a stolen child to lure their victims while the roughest, tat-covered, biker looking dude might be the good guy who would have your back until the very end. To be safe, David insisted they avoid everyone. A sound idea except they had reached the point they were either going to have to enter a store and hope the “employees” were legit and not criminals, or they were going to have to become criminals themselves by breaking into homes to steal (salvage David said) food and other supplies.

And, of course, it added time to their journey. Time Ana didn’t feel they could afford to waste. “The kids probably think we abandoned them,” she had said.

“They know better,” David reassured her, “they know we will get back to them or die trying.”

“Then they probably think we are already dead.”

David had just glared at her. They had been snipping and sniping at each other for a couple days now. The long walk, the hunger, the constant fatigue and pain was taking its toll. David’s infection seemed to have leveled off at a painful and feverish benchmark but had not gotten any worse, he was hoping it was healing and he was on the upswing. Ana’s feet were still bloody, the only thing they could do was change the bandages daily but now they had run out of those too. Pain had become a way of life for them, just as hunger had. It was there, it was inconvenient, it was to be borne, preferably in silence. But it constantly seeped out in jibes and unkind words towards each other.

Ana was worrying about the kids. Although she was the only one expressing it, she knew David was just as worried about them as she was. At first they had consoled themselves knowing they had raised their kids to make good choices, had taught them to take care of themselves and each other and had given them basic survival skills. But what they had seen in their travels the last few days, the way society had broken down so quickly reminded them they had never trained their children to expect or deal with the violence that would come knocking on their door.

“Oh my God, “ Ana muttered as they happened upon the town. David didn’t know if she was reacting to the suddenness with which it appeared (they came around a line of trees and there it was,) how small it was (main street was only one block long and had maybe ten stores,) or the fact that it was destroyed. Every edifice had broken windows, soot damage, missing doors or was still smoking. There was no one to be seen, although Ana swore she saw a window shade open a couple of inches but it was closed when she looked again.

David checked that his shotgun was securely attached to his backpack, but easy to reach, drew his sidearm and started walking to the first building.

“What are you doing,” Ana asked.

“What we came here to do, gonna find us some supplies.” The first store was a real estate office, he stepped through the gap where the door used to be and called out. Getting no answer he called out again saying he was coming in unless someone told him not to. Again no answer so he entered, Ana followed.

He headed straight to the break room at the back, as expected the mini fridge and cupboards were bare and there were no vending machines.

“There’s some pods for coffee here,” Ana called out, “and packets of creamer and sugar. There’s over a half a gallon of water.” She drank half of the water and handed it to David to finish off. “I’ll check the desk drawers, maybe someone forgot a stash.”

David picked up the empty water jug and headed out of the room.

“Oh, David, no. Is that necessary?”

“Yes,” he said as he walked into the bathroom. She followed him, opened her pack, pulled out her empty water bottles and filled them from the toilet tank.

The next two stores were fruitless, the third so badly damaged they didn’t dare enter. The fourth was the grocery store. A small building, about the size of the average convenience store. The shelves were basically bare. They did find a loaf of moldy bread and a pack of donuts. Ana walked down the canned goods aisle and found a badly dented can of peas and a jar of eggplant paste.

“Eggplant paste? Never heard of it,” David said, “but it’s food so…” he took it from Ana and placed it into her pack.

They had no luck in any of the rest of the buildings until the very last stop out of town. The gas station with a small convenience store had been ransacked, it’s front windows busted out. As expected, its shelves were picked clean, many of them tipped over and glass display cases smashed.

“Dave, come here, I found something.”

Dave found her in the back corner of the store, trying to move a toppled shelf.

“I think there is something behind this.”

Dave quickly manhandled the shelves out of the way revealing another set of intact shelves.

“Bingo!” Ana exclaimed. A large tote on the bottom was filled with boxes of cookies, granola bars, some canned fruit and baby food.

“Somebody’s stash?” Dave wondered.

Ana grabbed a few boxes and cans, turning each upside down. “Expired. Best buy dates are all a week up to a month ago. But that’s just the date the food will be at its peak…”

“…but still ok to eat for weeks, months or even years,” Dave finished. They shared grim smiles. They had repeated that nugget of info every six months when they rotated their emergency food stash in the basement, never really believing it would be an issue.

And just like that Ana lost her smile. Thinking of how hard they had worked (David admittedly more so than her) preparing to protect their family, she wondered if her kids were even still alive.

***

“Sally, No!” a woman’s voice rang out, sotto voce. She was trying to whisper but the fear raised her voice almost to a scream as she continued, “Come out of there.”

David dropped the bag of chips he was loading into his pack, pulled and levelled his gun as he swung towards the door. Sliding his feet into a balanced stance, he took aim on a 4 year old cherub. The child was dirty, her dark honey blonde hair was all tight curls and tangled mats, she was missing a sock and both her knees were scraped. Still, underneath it all were plump lips forming a sweet smile and innocent, huge eyes so brown they were almost black with the longest lashes ever.

“But Mommy, I’m hungry, maybe they have food.”

David was lowering his gun when a thin woman, as dirty and ragged as her daughter, grabbed the child and put her behind herself, turning her body so the infant she was holding was also protected by her body.

“Please don’t hurt us,” she said at the same time Anabeth said, “We won’t hurt you.”

Anabeth stepped between her and David, raising her hands to show she was not armed.

“We’ll leave, we never saw you,” the woman said, trying to back up but meeting resistance from the small body behind her.

“It’s okay,” Ana said, “maybe we can help you. Come in, sit down. David, give them something to eat and drink.”

“Anabeth,” David started to protest, then realized he had no choice, his wife was giving him ‘the look.’ He dug out some chips, protein bars and a bottle of water and held them out to the woman. Ana glared at him and added a second bottle of water.

Sally grabbed a bag of chips and began stuffing them in her mouth, barely chewing before swallowing and stuffing in more. Her mother hesitated, looking at the food with desire, then glancing around the store as if expecting a trap to spring. But her hunger overpowered her fear and she began to eat with almost as much abandon as Sally. She did stop after the fifth mouthful to mutter “Thank you,” before eating again.

When they had eaten their small amounts and drank their water, the woman thanked them again and introduced herself. “I’m Cynthia, you’ve met Sally and this is Sebastian.”

Ana’s heart nearly broke when she looked closely at the baby, he was obviously dehydrated, severely underweight and hadn’t had a clean diaper in so long the disposable one he was wearing was beginning to disintegrate. Ana could see open sores venturing out from under the edges of the diaper.

“My husband was coming home from a 6 month deployment, we were driving to meet him when this,” she nodded her head to the outside world, “happened. The car just stopped, everybody’s car just turned off, most rolled to a stop but there were some accidents. I took out my cell phone to call for help but it was dead.

“I waited in my car thinking someone would be coming to help, but people were getting crazy, some were even fighting and I knew it wasn't safe to stay. I grabbed a suitcase and diaper bag, put Sebastian in the stroller and started walking. I figured I would find a house and ask for help. But…well you see what’s going on. People have gone crazy.

“A couple of women stopped and offered to help, but all they did was tear through my bags, threw our stuff everywhere and stole the stroller. Now what would they need it for? Nothing, that’s what. They just couldn’t stand the thought of me having it so they took it.”

Cynthia’s voice was getting higher and louder as her speech sped up. She was on the verge of hysteria. Ana reached over and touched her hand.

“You’re safe with us. We have children too, that we are trying to get home to. We will help you as much as we can.” She looked at her husband and saw him scowling at her. Biting back a bitter response, she handed Cynthia a pack of moist towelettes she found behind the counter. “Why don’t you and Sally clean up with these and I’ll look after the baby.”

She eased the limp infant from his mother’s arms and signaled with her eyes for David to follow her. Moving just a few feet away so Cynthia could still see them, she quietly told David to grab the first aid kit.

Using a syringe she dropped some water into the child’s mouth, which he instinctively swallowed. She handed the syringe to David to continue hydrating the child while she removed the foul diaper.

It was worse than she expected. The smell was like a physical thing reaching up to slap her in the face, causing her to gag. Dried feces clung to raw sores covering the child’s buttocks, genitals and upper thighs which oozed a greenish pus. Had the child not been almost unconscious, he would have been screaming in pain, instead he quietly whimpered and tried to kick his feet. Ana reached for some paper towels and a bottle of water, but David stopped her with an insistent shake of his head.

They held a silent argument using only the facial expressions, head nods and hand gestures of the unspoken body language a couple develops after years together. David warned they were low on water and it would do nothing to help the child, he was beyond help. Ana insisted she didn’t care, she was going to do all she could.

“He is still a human being and in pain,” she whispered between clenched teeth. David handed her the water bottle. After cleaning the child as best she could, Ana reached again into their limited first aid kit and pulled out a tube of topical antiseptic. David glared, but said nothing. Ana ignored him and liberally smeared the gel over every inch of the child’s diaper area and upper legs. Then she fashioned a makeshift diaper from the remaining towels and duct tape from her pack.

When Ana shook the last of the baby aspirin from the overused first aid kit, David grunted his disapproval, turned and walked out of the store.

“Is everything OK,” Cynthia asked.

“Yes, he is just going to take a look around outside. You are the only people we have seen here, but we felt like we were being watched. Maybe he can find someone to get help or maybe some information from. Or at least let them know we will be leaving tonight, we aren’t a threat to them.

“What have you been feeding Sebastian?” Ana asked, as much to change the subject as to elicit information.

“We ran out of formula yesterday. I tried to breastfeed but I’m afraid my milk has dried up.”

“Does he eat solid food?”

“Just pureed fruits and rice cereal.”

Ana rummaged through the tote of expired food and found the jars of baby food. She fed half of it to Sally then added water to the jar and shook it, basically liquefying the contents. She crushed the two baby aspirins and added that to the mixture. Using the syringe, she took up some of the concoction and dropped it into the boy’s mouth. Drop by drop she was able to get almost a teaspoonful into him.

She handed the baby back to his mother and instructed her to keep feeding him, cautioning her to offer only tiny amounts very slowly and to make sure he swallowed before giving him more. She laid out her sleeping bag and got Sally settled down for a nap. As she tucked the child in, she winced at the shape of her feet, covered with cuts and bruises that, like the ones on her knees, were showing signs of being infected. She would have gone to the first aid kit again, but they were now out of all ointments and antibiotics, having used the last of it on the baby.

She felt a twinge of guilt remembering David’s infected back. Well, they would just have to find more supplies somewhere. Perhaps, something in nature. She struggled to remember what plants were natural antibiotics as she repacked their gear. Lavender and garlic were all she could think of, and she doubted either were in season at this time of year. Adding in what was left in the tote box, she allocated one third to her pack, one third to David’s and the remaining in a pile for Cynthia. Turning back to look for a bag to put Cynthia’s share in, she saw the woman was asleep sitting up.

Unrolling David’s sleeping bag, she eased the Cynthia onto it without waking her and laid Sebastian down next to her. Quietly she slipped out the front door to find her husband.

David was coming down the sidewalk looking less angry than before, possibly due to the bag of food and drinks he was carrying. As he reached Ana he raised his hand to forestall the apology he knew was coming. Defiant, Ana blocked his way.

“I’m not ready to talk about this,” he stepped to the side to pass her.

“Well I am.”

“Fine,” David stopped walking and spun to face his wife. “You wanna talk? Well here is what I have to say. You used our water, you wasted medical supplies. You know we can’t help everyone. Hell, we can barely take care of ourselves. Everything you just gave away is something we might need to get home to the kids. You may have cost us the chance to see our kids again.”

“I will see my kids again,” Ana spat at him, “nothing will stop me. And what I did in there? They are human beings, David, and not helping them, no matter how desperate their situation, even if my attempts are futile, not trying to help is just not an option.”

“Where is your gun? The shotguns?” David suddenly asked and Ana realized she had walked out and left them behind. They both rushed back into the store to find Cynthia and the children sound asleep. “You’re slacking, Ana. You’re letting your emotions make bad choices.”

David retrieved the guns and roughly shoved Ana’s into her hands, “Hold it or holster it, don’t let it out of your hands again.” He walked to the back of the store, saw his sleeping bag had been borrowed, laid down on the bare tile floor and used his pack for a pillow. “Wake me in four hours to take my watch,” he said and rolled over showing his back to his wife.

Throughout her shift and later when David took watch and she was supposed to sleep, Ana kept going over their argument in her head. She knew from a tactical standpoint he was right. Resources were limited, no help was coming. No eighteen wheelers were going to come roaring down the road bringing food, medicine and other supplies, nor was the cavalry going to swoop in with supplies, not in the near future, nor the distant, maybe not even in their lifetimes. Maybe never again. It made sense that they should salvage all they could and keep it for their family.

But Cynthia had a family too. She was no more responsible for the situation than Ana and David were. ‘ So why should we have, and Cynthia and her children go without?’ she wondered. If Ana and her husband didn’t help Cynthia who would? And if they were not willing to help their fellow man, if it were truly to be survival of the fittest, aka the biggest and meanest, while the weak and innocent were left to die, what kind of a world could they hope to rebuild?

Ana struggled with this dilemma until David called her to wake her from her non-slumber.

***

Day 13

Three days, almost twenty more miles.

After her day of no sleep, David and Ana spoke only when necessary. They drank the bottles of soda David had found in an abandoned car and filled them with water from the small water heater in the store. David said nothing about Ana giving Cynthia her third of the tote stash, but he made sure any food and water they ate or drank came from their share. He also did not share the box of crackers or the bag of peppermints he found with the sodas.

Ana had invited Cynthia to travel with them and she agreed but made it clear she was still going home, so they would soon be parting ways.

Travelling was slow. Cynthia was near exhaustion. She had what David called a “gym body.” She took classes that gave her a small waist, firm boobs and a high, tight butt, but no cardio, no running, nothing that would prepare her body for this type of forced march. Add to that dehydration, near starvation and carrying one, sometimes two, children and she was simply worn out.

So David carried Sally, Ana took Sebastian, they slowed their pace as Cynthia struggled to keep up. They made additional stops for the baby. Sebastian’s makeshift diaper lasted only overnight when the small amount of fluid they had gotten down his throat exited the other end. At that point they agreed to let him go without a diaper, not only because they did not have one, but because the open air would help the sores heal. However, no diaper meant stopping to clean the baby each time he peed or pooped. One joyous day they came across an opened pack of diapers, baby wipes, ointment, a bottle with four baby aspirin and an unopened can of formula in an empty house.

Their meager supplies left them hungry, but gave them enough energy that when combined with hope, kept them going. The baby perked up some, but his fever and infected rash were of great concern. David said nothing when Ana used the remaining baby aspirin, although both knew it was a useless gesture.

Just before sunrise, they came to a crossing. Cynthia’s destination lay to the west. Home for Ana and David lay to the southeast. Although they tried to convince her to come with them, Cynthia was determined to go West, convinced her husband would be coming to look for her. No amount of arguing or logic could dissuade her, she would not even consider that their many detours had taken her so far out of any route he would consider. And so, they parted ways just as the sun broke over the horizon, Cynthia following her shadow to find her husband. Ana and David following their hearts to get home to their children.

***

Day 15

They had covered another 20 miles since parting with Cynthia but their conversations were still strained. They had run out of food and water earlier that morning and David was still being peevish about the supplies she had given to Cynthia and her children. He was also in pain, he wouldn’t admit it to Ana, but the sore on his back had gotten worse, leaving him feverish and cranky. So they walked on in silence, David often twenty or thirty feet ahead of her. Their path took them through hilly terrain; often he would go over a rise and drop out of sight for the several seconds it took her to catch up with him.

“Dammit, David,” Ana muttered about the tenth time he did it. For all his lecturing about situational awareness, head on a swivel and other admonitions, he was the one being careless. Then as she came over the rise, she heard him before she saw him.

He was down, half hidden in tall grass, groaning and clutching at his leg.

“Oh God it hurts. I think it’s broken.”

Before she could ask he said, “Stepped in a hole, fell and broke my leg. Stupid accident. Do we have anything for pain left in the kit?”

Anabeth rummaged through the depleted first aid kit and found some Tylenol and some Ace bandages. She gave David four of the first, justifying doubling the dose because of the obvious pain he was in. But she could not find anything to use to splint his leg.

“Can you stand?” she asked. “You’ll have to lean on me until we can find something to splint your leg.”

She helped him to a sitting position, and despite the pain the movement was causing him, she knelt behind him, put her arms under his arms and around his chest. He pulled his left foot up as close to his butt as he could and at her signal pushed back against her as she tried to lift him.

Immediately he screamed and fell to his side.

After several seconds of groaning and panting, he forced out through clenched teeth, “That’s not gonna work, the break must be worse than I thought.”

Anabeth looked at his right leg, saw the odd angle mid shin where it bent to the right and agreed with him.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she promised and headed out in search of something or even someone to help.

It was eerie walking through the fields of hay, the silence except for the whisper of the stalks against her clothes, the occasional rustle of a small rodent scurrying away from her as she disturbed its nest, the soft sigh of the wind blowing through the crops. Looking up, she saw the approach of rain clouds and recognized a storm was coming. Redoubling her efforts, she soon broke through the edge of the plants and saw a farmhouse in the distance.

Quickly she stepped back into the cover of the hay and took a good look around assessing the situation. The house looked dark and empty, the back door stood open. Several scrawny, mostly defeathered chickens were scratching in the dying flower beds while the carcasses of others dotted the yard. She heard the pitiful bleating of some goats and a weak answering neigh from the barn. Seeing no evidence of any humans, she made her way across the yard to the house.

At the back door, which she could now see wasn’t just open but had been kicked in, she called out the usual anyone-home-if-not-I’m coming-in warning. Drawing her weapon she entered and searched the house. Her movements startled a large turkey roosting on the dining room table. It gobbled in defiance but was easily shooed out the door.

The house was in decent shape but appeared to have been ransacked, kitchen cupboards were open and bare, dirty dishes were lying around, the toilet had been used but without water to flush…she quickly checked the medicine cabinets, removed a couple of pill bottles and exited the room closing the door firmly.

Taped to the front door was a note:

Dearest,

Things here have become desperate. Without electricity the well pump won’t work so water is running low. Several rather unsavory persons have come by looking for handouts. Some more aggressive ones needed to be shown the shotgun before they would leave. Therefore, the children and I are going to your parents’ house. I have loaded all the supplies I can in the wagon for Starlight to pull and left two boxes of supplies for you in the cellar. Old Paint has several bales of hay and all the remaining water in his stall. Hope you are safe and can join us soon.

All my love,

Sue

Formulating a plan, Anabeth headed to the barn. On the way she opened the gate to the pasture where several goats were huddled, allowing them to escape to find water. She didn’t know if they would survive on their own, but knew they would die for sure in their pasture with its overturned water trough.

In the next field, two cows had already met their fate, whether from starvation or lack of water she couldn’t tell. She only knew from the smell that they were beyond salvaging for meat.

The barn held one unhappy horse. He was in a walk out stall, but the door had been blown shut, so although he had access to several bales of hay and one of the three 100 gallon water buckets was half full, the stall had not been cleaned in at least a week. The horse was literally standing in about 6 inches of his own feces and covered in flies.

Anabeth found a halter and bridle hanging outside his stall and hurried to get him outside, for both his sake and her own. She spent at least half an hour lunging him to let him work off built up energy. Then she tied him up to the porch railing and went to look for the cellar.

The cellar was dark, with a dirt floor. There were rows of empty shelves that no doubt had been filled with jars of canned fruits and vegetables from the farm. In the corner were two freezers, but with the power out she didn’t even try opening them. Far at the back of the room, with an old blanket carelessly tossed over it, she found the box of supplies. Inside she found a basic first aid kit, a blanket, sun screen, four 1 gallon water jugs, and six MREs.

Anabeth carried the box upstairs and left it in the kitchen, then returned to the cellar and continued searching. Eventually she found several short lengths of metal pipes, a small folding step stool and a pair of crutches. She took these items outside and left them on the porch near the horse. Back to the barn again, she tied her scarf over her mouth and nose, took a deep breath and rushed inside. She found an empty feed bag, saddle pad, saddle and tack.

Back outside she saddled the horse, put the pipes into the feed bag and using her paracord bracelet, tied it and the step stool to the saddle horn. Mounting up she turned Old Paint back the way she had come. She fought the urge to push him to an immediate gallop despite the rain that was now falling. She allowed the horse to choose his own pace, giving him time to get used to her and she to him.

***

At last they were back in the house, settled for the night. Old Paint was a good horse and had easily adapted to having a new rider on his back. They made it back to David in mere minutes compared to the time it had taken her to walk. She was able to splint his leg and get him up onto the horse. Using the step stool as a mounting block, David was able to pull his upper body up so he was lying sideways on the saddle. Anabeth then climbed up on the stool and helped him twist into a position more aligned with the saddle and finally lift his leg up and over. It took several minutes and caused him a lot of pain, but at last they were on their way to shelter, Anabeth leading the horse and David trying desperately not to jar his leg, or fall off.

Getting David off the horse was only a little bit easier. She walked Paint through the flowerbed and right up to the porch. The gentle horse once again stood very still while the two of them worked as a team to get David down and onto the porch. Using the crutches Ana had left there, David drug himself inside and collapsed on the couch.

Ana propped his leg up with pillows, made sure he was comfortable, fed him half a granola bar and handed him some pills and a bottle of water.

“Codeine? Have you been holding out on me?”

“I found them here, but I couldn’t give them to you sooner. I needed you awake to get you back here. I couldn’t have carried you if you fell asleep. Now take your medicine and let’s get you into some dry clothes. Then you can rest.”

While David was settling down and falling asleep, Ana lit a fire in the fireplace and headed outside to tend to the horse. She couldn’t bear putting him back into the barn, not even into one of the cleaner stalls because the smell and the flies were still there. The goats had gone and not returned, so she put him into their pasture and hoped he would make use of their shelter. He balked at first because of the smell from the cows, but she calmed him down with gentle words and finally coaxed him in.

Back in the kitchen, she worked the remains of the broken door closed and nailed a blanket over it to help block the wind which had now picked up to storm levels. Next she struggled to push a very heavy sideboard in front of the door to keep it from blowing in and as a little bit of security in case they had visitors. Finally she was able to sit by the fire and try to dry her own clothes. She was surprised by how comfortable she felt. It had taken her days to get used to entering strangers’ homes without an invitation. Now here she was not only ransacking the house, but settling in for a few days’ stay like an unwelcome visitor. Was this to be the new normal?

Day 16

“I’m sorry,” David said. “I was out of line to say the things I did and to treat you that way. My only excuse is that I was scared. I still am. We’re almost out of food and water, still miles from home and now I can’t even walk, can’t help you…”

“Hush,” she interrupted. “I’m scared too, but I believe in us. We’ll get home somehow. And we just have to trust the kids are ok. They have food, water, shelter. The Mastersons are next door, I’m sure they went there for help when we didn’t get home.

“And you were right. I need to remember we can’t save everyone. Everything we give to someone else is something we are taking from our own children, something we may need to survive.” There was an awkward silence as they both realized the antibiotic ointment used on Sebastian was desperately needed now that David’s infection continued to worsen.

“Come here,” David said, breaking the awkwardness.

Anabeth laid down on the couch in front of him, careful not to jostle his leg. The last few days were the longest they had ever stayed mad at each other, she was glad it was over. She had missed the feeling of being in his arms. Tomorrow they would figure out a way for him to travel and soon they would be home with their kids. Together they could overcome any adversity.

***

Day 18

“You should go on without me Anabeth,” David said. “It’s been three days and my leg isn’t any better. I still can’t even put my foot on the floor. There is no way I will be able to walk all the way home on crutches,” David said. He had tried to discuss this matter with Ana several times but she wouldn’t hear it. He had originally thought after a day or two of rest he would force himself to get on the horse again and even if he had to tie himself into the saddle, they would make their way home. But they discovered the first morning Old Paint had jumped the shorter fence of the goat pasture and was gone.

David’s leg was even more swollen than the first day and hurt like hell despite the pain meds. He had tried once to stand and almost passed out from the pain. And the oozing sore on his back wasn’t helping either. There was no way David could make the trip home. Trying would only hinder Ana, slowing her down at best, preventing her from getting home at worst. David felt like the worst human being, father and husband ever.

It didn’t help watching Ana pacing, looking out the window. She tried to hide it, but he knew she wanted to be on the road again, and he knew she was loath to leave him. It was as much a mental agony for her as his injuries were physical ones for him.

“You should go,” David said, “the kids need you.”

“They need us, David, both of us.”

“Yes, they do, but it will be weeks before I can travel. One of us is better than none.”

Ana wanted to argue but she knew he was right. Reluctantly, she set about packing the bag she would take with her and then setting up supplies within easy reach for David, trying to anticipate his every need. She pushed the couch as close to the fireplace as she dared, brought in more firewood and stacked it on the side table. She had found a small amount of food and a few bottles of water in the house. She left all of it plus extra blankets, medicine, his gun and extra ammo, candles and matches on the tall table behind the couch. His pack went on the floor next to him.

When there was no more for her to do Ana dithered. She repacked her bag again, checked on David again, checked outside, moved her pack to the door, added more wood to the fire. It was as if she wanted to go but kept getting pulled back. She was obviously torn between rushing to rescue the children she loved and staying to care for the man she loved.

“Go,” David barked at her, pointing to the door. Then in a softer voice, “Please, Anabeth, just go.”

His wife knelt next to him and kissed him, then turned and walked to the door. She stopped for a second and David thought, hating himself for hoping it, that she would come back. Instead she squared her shoulders, carefully looked around outside and stepped through the front door into the night outside, firmly closing the door behind her.

“Go,” Dave whispered this time, “our kids need you more than I do. I’ll follow as soon as I can.” But he doubted he would ever leave the empty room in this cold house.

Day 20

“My children, my husband, my home,” Anabeth repeated the mantra in her head as she had for the last several minutes. She focused on each word, what it meant to her, how she would not let anything stop her from getting her children and her husband back into her home.

Earlier that morning she had reached the end of the stand of trees marking, according to her calculations, another 20 miles travelled. She looked across the pasture to the inviting farm house. It was intact, no sign of fire or other damage. There was a faint hum of a small generator, warm yellow light in the windows and a wisp of smoke rising from the chimney. Oh how she wanted to walk up and knock on the front door, ask for a night’s lodging. But she had decided against it. Too risky.

Instead, she walked 15 or 20 feet back into the forest, found a large pine tree with branches almost all the way to the ground and pushed her way in amongst them. Backed up to the trunk, she had dropped her pack, removed a blanket, wrapped it around her and sank to a sitting position.

Inventorying her meager rations, she pulled out a single granola bar and a bottle of water. Her last bottle, only 5 empties remained in her pack. Anabeth looked at the bar, remembering the stand of trees they had hidden in at the beginning of the journey. She remembered the rotting nectarines on the ground and remembered thinking someone would have to be pretty desperate to eat them. She was that desperate now, the thought of that rotting fruit made her mouth water, she was that hungry. She had noticed her jeans, which were snug when she first put them on, were now baggy. She guessed she must have lost about 8 or 10 pounds. She wolfed down the granola bar, then, hoping she would find a water source that evening, drank only half of the water. “At least I won’t be waking up to pee,” she thought .

Later she would wish she had.

She woke instead to a large hairy hand grabbing her jacket and pulling her from her hiding place. It took mere seconds for her to remember where she was and why, and to focus her eyes on her attacker. He was only slightly shorter than average, slight build, and dirty. He looked like someone who had long ago given up bathing regularly or laundering his clothes. He was out-of-place dirty even in this new apocalyptic world.

More than just his hygiene and clothes added to his offensive picture, his hair was long and ragged, his beard hung to his waist, uneven and filled with bits of leaves, food and other unidentifiable detritus. Black goo underlaid fingernails that hadn’t seen a nail file or scrub brush in months, if not years. And his breath, well Anabeth wondered that the foul stench alone had not woken her from her slumber.

To his side was a German shepherd, sniffing and pawing at her backpack. That explained how this filthy man had found her in her hiding place.

“What do we have here?” he laughed, “a wee bit o’ entertainment. What’s your name, me pretty?” Anabeth tried to pull away, fearing not only his intentions, but also his obvious mental instability. Her resistance ended abruptly when his ham sized fist slammed into her cheek. Dropping the fake pirate accent he said, “I asked your name, bitch! Never mind, Bitch is a good enough name for you. Folks call me Pirate Tom.

“So what are you doing on my property, Bitch?”

“You, uh you own that farmhouse?”

“I do now,” he chuckled. “Come on, I’ll give you a tour and then maybe we’ll get to know one another,” he said and began walking, dragging Anabeth behind him and carrying her pack in his left hand. “I, shall we say, inherited this little piece of real estate heaven just yesterday, when the owners decided they didn’t need it anymore.”

They moved at a fast pace and almost before Anabeth had a chance to get her bearings or look for anything that might be of use later, they were across the field, up the porch and into the house. Tom shoved her down into a chair, plopped into another facing her and began to go through her pack. Food bars, empty bottles, a flashlight, and her first aid kit all went flying. The kit opened and bandages fluttered like butterflies through the room, one fluttering down to land on the side table next to him. In a one in a million shot, it landed gracefully over the open top of a half gallon bottle of whiskey.

Tom turned to see what she was watching and his eyes landed on the liquor. Smiling he lifted the half empty bottle, knocked the band aid off and took a long swallow from it. He held it out to her, offering a drink. If the slip of slobber sliding off the lip of the bottle wasn’t enough to dissuade her from drinking from it, knowing she needed to keep her wits about her was. Staying sober while he drank himself into unconsciousness was a viable escape plan.

Rubbing a dirty sleeve across his wet lips, leaving a hint of clean on the filthy garment and an accompanying streak of dirt on his mouth, Tom chided her, “Too good to drink with me, Bitch?”

“No,” she answered, “no, I’m uh, I’m pregnant and the doctor said no alcohol. No cigarettes or caffeine either,’ she added and forced a smile, trying to connect, earn sympathy, anything to gain an advantage.

He looked at her for a long moment, then just grunted and turned back to her pack, the bottle of liquor forgotten again.

“Oooh, now that’s a beaut, “ he said, lifting her gun out. He turned it around, examining it, chambered a round and pointed it at her. “What does a little thing like you need with such a big gun?” Not waiting for an answer, he dipped his hand in again and came out with the box of ammo.

He didn’t ask again, just looked at the gun, the ammo and then Anabeth.

“It’s my husband’s. His backup gun, he was carrying the shotgun and asked me to hold this,” she lied. “We got separated in the woods, that’s why I was hiding under the tree, waiting for him. I’m sure he will be here soon, he will find me, he always finds me. He’s a great hunter, tracking is his specialty…” Anabeth trailed off, realizing she had said too much. It was obvious she was lying.

Tom tucked the gun into his waistband and said, “Well, I’ll just hold onto this and lock up the house. Wouldn’t want the great white hunter to interrupt us.”

Anabeth frantically scanned the room, trying to memorize its layout, the location of all the furniture, looking for escape routes and most important of all, anything that could be used as a weapon. The room was clean, but sparse: a settee, two armchairs, two side tables, two table lamps and an overhead light/fan combination. All too heavy to lift or too small to use as a weapon. On the walls, some picture frames and a grandfather clock, no help there. Some small pictures on the mantel and…YES…a heavy glass vase.

She stood and took a step towards the fireplace, and Tom grabbed her hand.

“Wrong way, honey, bedroom’s upstairs.”

Panicked at what he had in mind, Anabeth began to struggle, only to catch that huge fist with her face again. Only this time it was much harder. Hard enough she may have blacked out for a second, for the next thing she knew he was dragging her along behind him and they were starting up the stairs.

Anabeth continued to struggle, trying to pull free. But the little man with his disproportionately big hands also had unusual strength for his size. He pulled her along like one would manhandle an errant toddler who had snapped one’s last nerve.

Up the stairs, down the long hall that took forever to traverse and yet was passed in just seconds, and then he threw her down on the bed. In a quick motion, he kicked off his shoes, pulled the gun from his waistband, dropped it into the nightstand drawer and divested himself of his pants. Anabeth had rolled to her stomach and was crawling away but he grabbed her feet and pulled her to him, turning her onto her back again. She swung at him, kicked him in the gut, but he just laughed, seeming to enjoy the roughhousing.

She looked for anything to help herself and found nothing. The room was spotless, as though the true homeowners had arisen in the morning, made the bed and went downstairs to begin their day, never to return. The solid queen sized bed had a wooden headboard with built in reading lights. An antique quilt covered the bed, coordinating curtains covered the windows that were out of her reach. The bed stands each held a small picture frame, one a wedding photo, the other of the same couple many years later. The man on top of her was not in either picture, just as he had not been in any of the pictures on the mantel downstairs.

Anabeth tried again to kick him, this time aiming for the family jewels but only succeeded in an ineffective blow to his thigh. Tom laughed and ripped her blouse open. She tried to gouge his eyes, but he caught her hands and pinned them over her head with one hand. With the other he tugged on her bra, ripping the flimsy material. Dropping his full weight onto her, he leaned in to kiss her and she realized her struggling was only exciting him more.

With no weapons at hand, and not enough strength to fight him, she went limp. If he wanted a fighter, maybe he would lose interest in a cold fish, she reasoned.

But she was wrong. He had one thing on his mind and nothing was going to stop him.

Anabeth surrendered to her fate. She tried to escape into her mind, she reached for the three things that had always given her courage, her children, her husband, her home.

“My children.” She pictured the sweet faces of her children. Kimber, at fifteen more mature, responsible and wise than Anabeth had been at 25. Joseph, the one others thought of as the problem child, but she knew her son was good, intelligent, kind hearted, just not outgoing. Jamie and Jackie, eight year old twins, they seemed to live in their own world, had made up their own language, as long as they had each other they didn’t need anyone else.

Her husband, David; he was light of her life, her one and only, her soulmate. He was all the old clichés and worn expressions of love, but whenever she thought of him all those were new, true and exactly him.

My home. To others it was just a house, some land, but to her it was a dream come true. More than that, it was the center of her family, a physical manifestation of their love, devotion to each other, their hopes, their…

“Was it good for you?” Tom asked with that grunting laugh she had already come to hate. “Never mind, you’d just lie about that too.” He rolled off her, laid next to her breathing heavily, his rancid breath adding to her pain.

Anabeth lay still, her hand held in his viselike grip. “My children, my husband, my home,” she whispered. Tears slid silently from her eyes.

Her body ached. She slid a hand to her private area to test the damage and felt the wet evidence of his crime. She quickly reached up to wipe her hand on the pillow case and that’s when she felt the cold, hardness of her salvation. Slowly tracing her fingers around its shape she identified the old revolver tucked under the pillow. Slipping a finger tip into the opening of the cylinder she verified there was at least one round loaded. And one round was all she needed.

While she waited she plotted. As Tom’s breathing slowed and deepened, rhythmically moving towards sleep, she plotted each step of her escape and revenge. When after a few short, but everlasting minutes, she felt the hand trapping hers go limp, she risked a peek. Tom looked completely relaxed, legs spread, head back, mouth open. His breathing had gone from deep and even, to snoring with occasional cessation, a true apneaic in deep sleep.

Moving slowly, Anabeth eased the gun from under the pillow. Holding it to her side, she carefully spun the cylinder and counted five bullets. Checking that it was ready to fire, she sat up and slid to the edge of the bed. Looking back to make sure Tom was not disturbed, she picked up her pillow, laid it onto his crotch, pressed the gun at what she thought was the exact spot and pulled the trigger.

Tom’s eyes flew open, he sat straight up, his hands reaching for the pillow where a red flower began to blossom through the white case. He ripped the pillow off his lap exposing the ruined remains of his manhood. His mouth opened and surrealistically, Anabeth expected him to laugh his hideous laugh.

But all that came out was a horrendous scream. Tom looked at the mess between his legs and began to howl. As the pain receptors in his brain received the message from his nerves, that noise changed again into something Anabeth had never heard before and could not have described

It was a sound she hoped she would never hear again and could no longer listen to. She raised the revolver again, took aim and sent a bullet straight into his brain. The report of the gun was deafening. She expected to see the back of his head explode and brain matter spray the headboard, which they did, but she saw only the life in his eyes slowly fade away.

“My children. My husband. My home. No one will keep me from them,” she said to the man with the hole in his forehead, “least of all you.”

Ninety minutes later Anabeth was walking out the front door. She had spent just a few minutes looking at the results of her actions. She had found it odd that such a small hole in the head could let a man’s life leak out. Somehow she never saw the huge hole in the back or the newly colored headboard. Or she saw it but her brain refused to process it. Either way she went about her business, flipped the quilt over to cover the body, ransacked the closet and dressers, retrieving her gun, and did the same for the two other bedrooms on that floor acquiring another box of ammo for the revolver, a pair of boots in her size, a Tshirt, a pair of jeans and what looked like new (she hoped) ladies underwear and some batteries.

Still in shock from her ordeal and having just killed a man, she made her way to the bathroom and stripped. The water from the toilet tank was icy cold, but she didn’t care, she was determined to remove every trace of the man from her. Her ablutions completed, she dressed in the new clothes, leaving her soiled garments on the floor.

Downstairs she raided the pantry, a real goldmine, but more than she could carry. So she loaded her pack with the highest calorie, lowest weight options she could find. Granola bars, some cookies, beef jerky and nuts. All six water bottles were filled and safely tucked into the pack before she sat down to a feast from the refrigerator. Fried chicken, potato salad, pickles and chocolate milk. How he kept the refrigerator running, she neither knew nor cared. She simply ate her fill, and then some more.

Continuing through the house she added some matches, candles and an unopened bottle of whiskey to her stash. She snagged a small afghan from the couch to replace the foil mylar one she had dropped on her forced march to the house.

She was ready to leave when she spied the stairs to the cellar. Her pack was already overly full as were her pockets, but David’s words rang in her ears, “Never pass up an opportunity to salvage.” Maybe there was a stronger flashlight, a warmer but lighter blanket, who knew. She was going to check it out.

As soon as she opened the door she knew what she would find. Still she walked down the stairs and began looking for anything useful. On the floor, in the back corner, she found the couple in the wedding photo. Laying side by side, eyes closed, peaceful, throats slit. Anabeth set her pack down, opened it and pulled out the revolver, sliding it into her waistband. The people on the floor were dead because their gun had been upstairs and out of their reach. Anabeth had been raped because her gun had been in her pack and out of her reach. David’s words echoed in her head, “Hold it or holster it, don’t let it out of your hands again.” She understood now, she had learned the hard way, it would not be an issue in the future.

She went back to the pantry and moved all the remaining food outside and stacked it a good distance from the house. While she couldn’t carry it all, she didn’t want it to go to waste. Perhaps the next person to come through would find it. She pulled some sheets from the linen closet and piled them on the living room floor near the curtains. To that she added paper, newspapers, and kindling and dropped a match onto the pile.

She stood outside for several minutes, watching until the whole pile was almost fully engulfed in flames, hoping against hope the horrible memories would burn with the house. When the flames had spread to the curtains, she picked up her pack and began walking. She understood now why some people chose to burn perfectly good buildings.

Day 21

She had walked nonstop for over 12 hours in a daze. No thoughts in her head, just numbly putting one foot in front of the other. In the early dawn, as the rays of the as yet unrisen sun began to lighten the horizon, Anabeth shook herself from her stupor enough to stop walking and stand.

Disoriented, she found herself in a large empty field at a crossroad, no buildings or trees or anything else to act as shelter during the daylight hours. In her mind, she struggled between planning for the coming day and coping with the previous one. She had been raped, she was exposed, she had killed a man, she needed shelter, she had left her husband weak and injured and maybe dying, she needed to get home to her children. Dear God, she had killed a man in cold blood, blew a hole in his head, burned the house. She was a monster.

No, she was a woman who had been violated, a woman who made the impossible choice of children over husband, a woman who had done what she needed to do. She was a strong, empowered woman. She was too weak to cope with this, she just wanted to put it all aside and deal with it later.

She took out her compass and map and took some readings; Pirate Tom would never use a compass or map again. She located the crossroad on the map, found north and then turned to face southwest, the direction she needed to go; that man lay burning in a building to the north. She discovered in her mindless wanderings, she had gone off course by at least 8 miles, a half a day's walk. Half a day wasted and another half day to recover lost ground.

Dropping to the ground, she began to cry softly unaware of her tears. A blanket from her pack wrapped around her shoulders did little to ease the physical chill. The emotional chill in her heart and spirit might never warm again. When the first raindrops hit her face she simply tipped over onto her side and gave up.

Day 22 and 23

Anabeth was exhausted. She had awakened cold and wet, fearful she might have caught cold but not yet seeing any signs. Throwing caution to the winds, she connected the single propane burner to the small tank and made herself a hot breakfast of instant oatmeal and instant coffee. She ate and drank quickly, repacked her gear and stood, determined to make up for lost ground.

The previous night’s rain had passed leaving damp ground and grasses kissed with dewdrops. Shaking off the cold and the fears, shoving all the doubts and guilt behind a wall in her mind, Anabeth squared her shoulders and renewed her trek home.

Against all reason, against all safety protocols David had tried to instill in her, she had walked through the day and night and continued walking on through the next morning, in full daylight, too tired to pay much attention to her surroundings. The one thing she was sure of was she was almost home. In just another mile she would reach the fence denoting the edge of their property.

Her feet were bleeding, her legs and hips screaming; her body begged her to stop, but she pushed on.

Topping the final rise she finally saw it, her home, the place where she knew her children were safely awaiting her arrival. There was the fence, the beautiful wooden post and no-climb wire fence she, David and the two older children had spent a full week putting up.

Beyond that was the corn field, already harvested, just row upon ragged row of empty dried stalks. Ana thought it was the loveliest sight she had seen in weeks.

Next would be the horse pasture. Ginn and Gaelen, one black, one chestnut, would no doubt run to the fence to greet her. And beyond that would be their homestead, their home, their castle. And most important, her children. But as she walked, the boys did not come to greet her. In fact, they were not in their fields. She somehow found the strength to walk faster. As she approached the house, she realized she saw no animals. No goats, no cows, no chickens, no turkeys, no geese. Most notable, Luddie and Lassie, the livestock guardian dogs, didn’t come running; they were bred to guard the family, the animals and the home. If they were not on duty, something dire must have happened.

Her heart began to race. Could someone have attacked her home? Taken the animals? Injured her children, or worse. She dropped her pack and began running. Turning up the drive she saw a figure on the porch stand and raise what must be a rifle to its shoulder.

Ana stopped in her tracks. It was a man on the porch and while Ana could not make out his features, she could tell he was too tall to be Joseph. In each window on either side of the door, she saw the barrel of a rifle pointing out at her. A movement upstairs caught her eye, curtains were being drawn back and rifle barrels were sliding out. She counted a total of six weapons aimed at her when there were only four children in the house.

Suddenly Kimber’s voice screamed, “Mom.” Followed by Joseph’s, then the twins. Her children were screaming her name. Then another voice, a man’s, which she knew, but couldn’t place. The man was yelling, “Ana? Oh my God, Ana it is you!”

***

After a joyful reunion on the drive, hugs with her children, her brother-in-law and sister, having her injuries fussed over and dismissing them as minor, Ana led the group inside. They had just been sitting down to a lunch of chicken soup and biscuits which Ana’s arrival had interrupted. The food was now merely warm but Ana declared it the best she had ever tasted. She ate every bite of the soup, mopped up the bits left over with her biscuit and was ecstatic to accept a refill. While she ate, everyone had a story to tell and Ana stopped them talking over each other by asking her sister Samantha to go first.

“When we realized what had happened, that things weren’t going to be going back to normal anytime soon we packed what we could into the saddle bags and trailer, stuck Bingo and Belle in their seats and hit the road.” Samantha explained how they were able to make it the 300 miles to the homestead on their motorcycles. The bikes, 1964 full dressed Harleys customized with seats for their two Bichon Frise dogs, were old enough to not be affected by the EMP.

“We were on the road by the third day so we were able to get out of the city before things got really ugly. And we could stay on the highways because with the bikes we could easily get around the stalled vehicles,” Sammy’s husband picked up the story. “Yeah, the trailer was a little tricky in some spots but we managed,” he smirked at his wife, obviously there had been some disagreement about bringing the trailer. “We got here safely on Day 4 and then almost got killed in your driveway.

“My fault of course. We pulled up and I jumped off the bike to run to the front door only to be met by pretty much the same welcoming committee you got. Well that plus the dogs. But because I had my helmet on, Kimber didn’t recognize me like she did you. I have to say, Ana, that is one intimidating young lady you have there,” Tyler laughed.

“Wasn’t so funny from where I was sitting,” Samantha shot her husband a look, “you dancing around trying to get your helmet off, me yelling at Kimber not to shoot, their dogs barking, our dogs barking and ready to attack, and then all those other rifles coming out the windows. I was terrified.”

“I counted six rifles, how did…” Ana asked.

Kimber interrupted her to explain, “That was easy. We took unloaded shotguns and taped them to the end tables with the barrels extending over the edge, then we pushed the tables up to the windows so just the ends of the barrels stuck out. Did the same thing upstairs using the nightstands in the bedrooms. Joseph had Jamie and Jackie hiding in the basement and I stood just inside the doorway ready to run and hide if our bluff didn’t work.”

Anabeth closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair saying a silent prayer. They had taught the children well, not only to defend themselves but to think on their feet. The kids had accounted themselves well the days they were on their own, but Ana was eternally grateful that her sister and brother-in-law had arrived to take care of them. It would make what she had to tell them easier. Before she could speak though, Sam addressed the children.

“Chore time.” Sammy knew her sister had her own tale to tell and no doubt it was not for the children’s ears. No doubt the children sensed it also as no one had mentioned David yet, as though expecting the worst and wanting to put it off as long as possible. Immediately Jamie and Jackie collected dishes from the table and prepared to wash them, while Sammy started filling thermoses with the remaining soup. Kimber and Joseph stood up to head out for the barn chores, but Anabeth stopped them.

“I need to talk to the four of you,” she indicated her two older children and the two adults.

“Give me a minute,” Sammy tossed over her shoulder as she buttered four biscuits and added some jam, then wrapped them in a bread cloth. She placed them into a basket with the thermoses and a jar of peaches then handed it all to Jackie. “What do we say?”

“Look, three six oh, gate, signal, go,” the twins recited together.

“Good, remember to give Fiddle water too, bring back the laundry and ask if they need anything else.” Sammy watched as the twins peeked out the window, opened the door, and then started off on their mission.

To Ana’s questioning look, Sammy explained, “The Mastersons next door, the kids have been checking in on them everyday, I tried to get them to come stay here but they refused. So we take them a hot meal once a day and the kids help out with chores. Mrs. Masterson asked if we had any ideas on doing laundry without a washer and I realized she wouldn’t be able to handle hand washing everything including the bedding, so they send over a few items everyday and the kids help me wash and hang it out to dry.

”I was going to go with them, but they insisted they are old enough so we do the chant. Look, look out the window before even opening the door. Three six oh degrees means stay aware, look in all directions. Everyday around 11 Mr. Masterson puts the American flag up in their window as a signal all is well, when the kids get to the gate they look for it. If it is ever not there, they are to come home immediately. If it is there, they are okay to go. They take the flag down when they come home and the next day we do it again.”

‘We did good, Dave’ Ana thought, ‘we raised good human beings.’ She wiped a quick tear from her eye hoping no one would notice. All she wanted right now was a hot bath and some sleep, but that would have to wait. Sammy set cups of coffee in front of everyone and then took her seat.

“This is about Dad, isn’t it?”

Ana was surprised no one had asked about him yet, but looking into her children’s eyes she realized by coming home alone she had sent the message he wasn’t coming home at all. Quickly she reassured them.

“Your dad is alive,” she blurted out, “but he is injured.” Kimber and Joseph both burst into tears. Giving them a few moments to calm down, she continued telling a very abbreviated version of their journey. She made a point of leaving out most of the violence, especially the part about their father killing someone and being raped herself. Life was going to be hard from here on out, any grief she could spare her kids she would.

“So I hope you can understand that, especially with Tyler and Sammy here, I am going to get a good night’s sleep and head out tomorrow morning with the horse and wagon to get your dad.” She didn’t look at the kids to see their reaction, she knew what it would be because she felt the same thing in her heart, torn between the two most important things in their lives.

“I’m going with,“ Joseph said.

“No,” Tyler disagreed, “I will. Joseph, you need to stay here and help your Aunt Sam and Kimber. You know more about running this homestead than I ever will. If there is a problem with the animals, a fence comes down, something breaks, you can handle it. Heck, you’re even a better shot than me…if it comes to that. Plus, there are two things I can do better than you. One is ride my bike.”

Joseph was thoughtful for a minute, emotions plain on his face matching the conflict in his head. He was flattered his uncle recognized his abilities, that he didn’t deserve the tag of loser so many had pinned on him. Yet he wanted to go rescue his father. The weeks of waiting, not knowing if his parents were alive or dead had been horrible. To stay home while others went to his father, to wait to find out if he was okay would be unbearable. He was torn from his thoughts by his mother.

“Ohmygosh, I didn’t even think about the bikes, that will be so much faster than the horses and wagon…oh, but David’s leg. He won’t be able to sit up on the bike.”

“And my second skill…” Tyler said and paused, looking at each in turn. When no one spoke, he added, “Um, I am a doctor. Might be useful in this situation.”

“OK, Uncle Tyler, I mean Doctor Tyler, you go.”

Tyler nodded his agreement and appreciation, then he looked at Sammy and smirked.

“OK, you were right, I was wrong.” Turning to Ana she explained, “Tyler has spent the last year, and a ton of money…”

“…which we could afford…” he interjected.

“…a ton of money designing and building a custom trailer for his bike. We were planning a cross country trip next year and he wanted to be sure we could easily carry all our luggage and camping gear, but it had to be light enough to tow with the bike. I said it wouldn’t work and was a waste of time. So, I admit it, I was wrong.”

Tyler kissed his wife and continued the story, “It will be a bit small for David to lie down, it's only five feet long. But if we alternate propping his head and his leg up, we should make it. Hopefully we won’t be on the road with him for more than a day or two. Joseph, want to give me a hand getting the trailer unloaded and ready to go? We’ll need to put some padding down on the bottom and rig some kind of a windbreak on the front…” The two were excitedly planning as they walked out to the barn.

“Guess I got barn chores,” Kimber grinned as she followed them, happy to see her brother’s excitement.

Samantha explained, “We were concerned about letting the animals out to free range. Didn’t want to advertise that we had food available, didn’t want to put a target on ourselves. So we have been keeping them in the barn and the kids use the horses to herd the cows and goats around the pasture for a few hours each day. Then they feed and water and muck out the stalls, which of course are pretty nasty with all the animals inside so much. They’ve been loading the manure into the wagon and we take it to the back of the property to dump once a week.” Sam smirked, “Good thing you’re not taking the wagon, it’s pretty ripe by now.

“And speaking of ripe, why don’t you pop upstairs and take a nap, I’ll put some water on to boil and you can have a shallow, semi hot bath when you wake up and we will tend to your injuries.” She gave an exaggerated sniff and laughed, “You need one.”

Ana smiled, then for the first time in nearly a month, she laughed. Sammy was good for her, she could always make her laugh. “Love you, Sis. I don’t know how to thank you for being here. I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving the kids here alone again, but what I saw on the road, I couldn’t take them…” her voice caught and she fought back a sob. Her big sister leaned over and drew her into a bear hug, rocking her as she gave in to the tears.

Several minutes later, when Ana had control of her emotions, Sammy waved a hand under her nose and suggested again Ana take a nap and then a bath.

“I will later. I need to talk to you about David. “

Sam set her coffee down, stood and said, “Let’s get Tyler in here. As a doctor he’d be better to answer your questions.”

“I need Nurse Sammy,” Ana whispered.

Sam dropped back into her seat and took her sister’s hand. “Oh, honey, is David…” she couldn’t bring herself to say the words. Like her husband, Sammy was a doctor, but she had specialized in psychiatry. For the last few years she had focused her practice on working with terminally ill patients in hospice, counselling and helping them and their families prepare for impending death. In that role she had taken the moniker, Nurse Sammy, which seemed to be more comforting to her patients than the title of doctor.

Ana explained the condition she had left her husband in: freezing, feverish and fighting a bad infection and immobilized by a broken leg, vulnerable to any troublemaker. Amid tears she confessed her deepest fear, if David had not died from cold, hunger, dehydration or violence, he might simply have given up. “I had to leave him with a gun for protection, but Sammy, I’m so afraid he may have turned it on himself in despair.”

“OK, stop that right now!’ Sammy’s sharp tone and her harsh words were like a slap to Ana’s face, as she intended. “I know David, he is not a quitter. And he loves you and the kids too much to ever hurt you like that.”

Ana nodded, wanting to believe, but, “Even so, his leg…Sammy, it was so swollen and hot and bruised. It was bad, really bad. You know I wouldn’t have left him if I had any other choice.”

“Ana, go to bed. You are exhausted and emotionally drained and no doubt in pain. No, don’t deny it,” Sammy said when her sister started to object. “You have obvious bruises on your face and arms, I am sure there are others you haven’t told me about.

“You’re home, you are safe. It’s ok to rest, lean on me for support, you are not alone. And as for David, you did what you had to do, you know it, I know it and he knows it. Now sleep, have a nice bath, and eat. Then tonight we will pack up whatever you need and tomorrow you will be with your husband again. Tyler is a good doctor, he will take care of him. Until then, try not to worry.

“And you stink,” she added as her little sister leaned in to hug her. Yes, Sammy could always make her smile.

***

Day 24

Anabeth could barely sit still one second longer.

They had spent the evening of her homecoming, after the much needed nap and bath, planning their trip. She wanted to just throw some food, water and blankets into the trailer and hit the road. Much to her frustration, Tyler insisted on grilling her for all the details he could get, planning the route they would take, itemizing every supply they would need. They had some strong words and honest to God, Anabeth came close to getting physical with him.

“Do you want to rescue your husband or not?” Tyler had finally shouted at her. Into the stunned silence he added, “I’m frustrated and worried and scared too, Ana. But we only have one shot at this, let’s do it right. First, I need to sleep, even if it’s for only a few hours. Second, we need to be sure we have everything we need to take care of David. He might have a high fever, compartment syndrome, pneumonia, be septic or any of a number of other complications. I need to be at my best and with the right tools to take care of him. Plus, the bikes aren’t quiet. We aren’t going to be able to stealthily slip through fields and pastures under the cover of dark like you did. We are going to hit the main road, go full throttle and not let anything stop us. Daylight will be in our favor.”

“You’re right, I know you’re right. It’s just that I'm so worried and I can’t sleep. I just want to go now.”

“Trust me, Ana, we will be better off if we plan and are prepared. David will be ok.”

“Don’t do that! You can’t promise me that, there are too many things that can go wrong, that could have gone wrong.”

“OK, OK, I won’t make promises," Tyler soothed, sparing a quick glance at his own wife. Ana's erratic behavior and sudden outbursts they had witnessed throughout the evening indicated there was something else wrong, some secret she was hiding. Sam gave an imperceptible shake of her head, Tyler answered with an inconspicuous shrug of his shoulders. As neither had a clue what the secret was, he continued addressing the problem in front of them. "I don’t know what we are going to find, but let me be brutally honest with you if that’s what you want.”

Ana, struggling for control of her emotions, gave a small smile of apology and nodded.

“Alright then. From what you’ve told me, David was weak from pushing himself and you everyday, he was malnourished and probably dehydrated. He has been in a home with no heat and temps near freezing. He might be depressed. He had been in a fight, maybe has a mild concussion. He could be delirious from fever. He had a broken leg, not a compound fracture but definitely a complete break of the bone.

“He could have compartment syndrome, the muscles inside the leg are held together in groups or compartments by the tissue we call fascia. The fascia is very tough and inflexible. When there is an injury like a broken bone, the pressure in these compartments can grow to the point it can stop the blood supply and the cells die. This could necessitate amputation of the leg or even death.

“Even if compartment syndrome isn’t an issue, depending on the severity of the break, he may be crippled for life. I can set a simple break, but I am not an orthopedic surgeon and even if I were, we aren’t equipped for major surgery.

“His lungs could be compromised, he could have pneumonia. He’s been immobile for days, he could have developed a blood clot. There are so many things that could have gone wrong.”

Tyler placed a comforting hand on Ana’s shoulder and continued in a softer voice. “Now, those are the extremes, and if he is suffering from one of those, well, it is what it is and we will deal with it. Most likely, David is cold, hungry, weak and in a lot of pain, all of which we can treat if we take the right supplies with us. And if we take the time to outfit the trailer right, we can bring him home with the least amount of pain.

“So here is what I propose. I am going to spend the next hour helping Joseph on the trailer. When we get to the point where he can finish without me, I will come in, pack the medical items I’ll need and then I’ll sleep. You, Sammy, Kimber and Joseph can gather the rest of the gear and pack it all in the trailer. Make some sandwiches, soup and hot coffee too, please. When that’s done, wake me and we will hit the road and damn the darkness.”

Ana nodded.

They had taken off around 3 a.m. It was still full dark, this time of year the sun wouldn’t be up for at least four hours. They were forced to travel more slowly than Ana liked, the big bikes and the trailer didn’t do well off road so they had to stick to the paved roads. With all the abandoned vehicles and no street lights coupled with her lesser experience riding they had to travel slowly, they couldn’t risk a collision. Tyler was right, waiting till daylight would have been better but Ana was glad to be on the road, moving towards her husband at even a crawl was better than sitting and waiting for daybreak.

Even with the maneuverability of the bikes, they were crawling in places. Multiple abandoned cars and wreckage from collisions, sometimes including big rig trucks blocked all the lanes, even the emergency lanes.

At one point they had to turn around and backtrack. They exited the highway using the on ramp and worked their way through the small town.

As they headed down main street, three men stepped out into the street and shined flashlights at them indicating they should stop. Which they did, about 75 feet ahead of them.

“There’s a toll to go through here,” one of the men yelled, “so just pull up here, nice and slow and pay up.”

“What’s the price?” Ana yelled back.

“Pull up and let’s see what you got, little lady.”

“How about this?” Ana dropped the barrel of her shotgun onto the top of the bike’s windshield, extending it so the barrel was caught in the bike’s headlight. “How about a little lead for you and your buddies?”

“Hey now, we just need some food, no need for violence.” The men began moving towards the curb.

“We don’t have any food to spare. So we are just going to drive on through and leave this little shithole of a town. OK? You good with that?”

The men huddled, presumably discussing their options.

“Are we really doing this?” Tyler asked when Ana motioned for him to go.

“Sure as shit we are.”

Tyler released a resigned sigh, “OK, follow me, full throttle and don’t stop for anything. If they get in the way, run them down. Ready?”

Ana looked shocked at Tyler's seeming callousness, his willingness to injure or even kill seemed at odds with his calling as a doctor.

"You would do that?"

"I am a doctor and like to think of myself as a pacifist, but I am also a realist. If it's us or them, I'll do what I can to make sure it's us that survives."

Without allowing further discussion, Tyler yelled “Go,” revved his engine and took off. Ana followed close behind, two big bikes and a trailer racing down the middle of the road, gaining speed and not stopping. Two of the men dove for the sidewalk but the third raised a rifle and took aim.

‘Dear God,’ Ana thought, ‘I never saw the gun.’ She didn’t hear the gun fire, but felt a biting sting in her calf. “I’ve been shot,” she said out loud, her voice lost in the wind. She wanted to stop and check to see how bad it was, but Tyler, unaware of her predicament, was still accelerating.

She was able to stay upright in her seat, though she could feel the wet where blood soaked through her pants. The pain wasn’t too bad and she knew it wasn’t a good idea to stop in town so she stayed on the gas and followed him.

Five miles down the road, she signaled Tyler to pull over when the engine on her bike stalled. Tyler slowed, did a quick assessment for danger and pulled off the road

“I’ve been shot. In my leg.”

Tyler jumped off his bike and ran to assist her. He eased her to the ground, pulled out his knife and sliced open her pant leg.

Anabeth punched him hard screaming, “Don’t touch me!” Unsure why she had reacted like that, Ana dropped her face into her hands and sobbed.

Tyler nursed his bruised arm and sat back on his heels, just watching as his sister-in-law fell to pieces. The woman he knew was even-tempered. This drastic behavior could only mean one thing in his opinion. During his residency he had treated and counseled many women who had been victims of assault or abuse and had seen this type of outburst often. He shuddered to think what had befallen her during those weeks on the road. He wanted to comfort her, but feared any physical contact would only exacerbate the situation.

Finally, having exhausted her tears, Anabeth sniffled, hiccupped and, checking her pockets but finding no tissues, wiped her nose on her sleeve. Sheepishly, she looked at Tyler, “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what that was all about.”

“I think I do. Something happened to you while you were trying to get home.” It was a statement, not a question. Ana opened her mouth to respond, but Tyler wouldn’t let her deny it. “You need to talk about it. Maybe not here and now, but soon, you need to tell someone. Until you do, this will haunt you.”

Ana nodded as the tears began to fall again.

“I’m a good listener if you want to talk now…” Tyler prompted but Ana just shook her head no. “Later then.”

Ana nodded.

"Alrighty then, shall we take care of this leg?"

"David’s dead,” was the response.

Tyler sat shocked for several long moments. “Ana, what? How? Why are we here trying to rescue him if…” Tyler trailed off realizing this was a recovery, not a rescue operation. “It’s okay, Ana, we’ll still bring him home. But what happened?”

As the sun rose around them, Ana sobbed and recounted the story of their travels. She left out no detail, David killing a man, leaving his wife tied up, letting a woman, her young daughter and her half dead infant go off on their own, her being raped and shooting Pirate Tom, and finally the ultimate betrayal, leaving her husband sick and injured to die either naturally or by his own hand. The words and her tears fell at an even pace as she berated herself for her actions.

Tyler offered what comfort he could, reassuring her she had done only what she needed to survive.

“Wait, David was alive when you left him? So you don’t know he is dead?”

Ana just looked at him through swollen eyes, wiped her nose on her sleeve again and said in a strained voice, “He was alive, but he is most likely dead by now. I shouldn’t have left him alone, I shouldn't have left a gun with him, I was wrong to do it. The kids would have been ok, were ok, with you and Sam there. Every damn decision I made was wrong.”

“Ana, look at me," Tyler commanded. "Until we see his dead body, David is alive. You got that? David is alive and needs our help. Now let’s get you patched up and get on the road again.”

Handing her his flashlight he directed her where to point the beam so he could examine the wound.

“This is gonna hurt a little,” he grinned; he had seen as soon as he had cut her pants leg that the wound was not serious. She felt the tip of his knife against her skin and then a pinch. “There you go,” he held his hand out and she shined the light on the small ball bearing in his hand. “You were shot with a BB gun.”

Ana glared at him when he took her hand and dropped the pellet into it. “Hang on to that, you might want to have it made into a necklace someday.”

“Let’s go,” Ana said, trying to stand, but Tyler held her down.

“It may be only a minor wound, but it did break the skin and these days we can’t risk even the smallest infection.”

He quickly cleaned and bandaged her wound, then pulled the cut edges of her jeans together and wrapped some tape around it. “Keep them from flapping in the breeze,” he explained. Then he dug into his kit and pulled out two bottles. He shook out pills from both and handed them to her with a bottle of water.

“Antibiotics and aspirin for the pain. That BB only went in deep enough to not fall right back out, but you need to be careful about keeping it clean, changing the bandage, taking the medication and watch for signs of infection,” Tyler cautioned as he downed a bottle of water himself.

Reassured that Anabeth was ok, Tyler checked out her bike. It hadn’t fared as well. “Looks like it took a hit too,” he pointed to the tiny hole in the gas tank. “Just enough damage to empty the tank.”

“So that’s why my pant leg was wet? I thought it was blood.”

“Nope, it was the gas leaking out of the tank. I only brought an extra 5 gallons of gas and it doesn’t make sense to waste it in a leaky tank. Looks like you’re riding with me.”

They pushed her bike into some bushes and camouflaged it as best they could, praying it would still be there upon their return.

Now 10 miles later they were stopped yet again. Tyler came out from behind the tree, adjusted his pants and jacket and reached into his saddle bag for hand sanitizer. Finishing his ablutions, he looked at her and raised an eyebrow suggesting it was her turn.

“I can wait. Can we go now?”

Tyler nodded, glad to see Anabeth was getting some spirit back, and started his bike.

***

*Day 22

David didn’t wake up because he hadn’t really slept. It had been three days, or one day or maybe a month since Anabeth left. He had lost all track of time and sometimes even reality. He had vacillated between shivering with cold and burning with fever. He had nightmares, or perhaps he was awake and they were hallucinations. He had managed to keep the fire going for only a few hours after she left by tossing wood from the couch to the fireplace. Several logs lying near the hearth were testament to his poor aim. He had tried to stand once, hoping to hop or even crawl to the fireplace but the agony of even moving his leg was too much.

He tried to eat but his stomach returned everything he gave it. And he quickly realized every ounce of water he took in was going to need to come back out in the form of urine, which because he couldn’t stand, meant peeing into the empty water bottles. So now he not only was freezing (or burning with fever) but he reeked of old sweat, vomit and piss, and was well on his way to being dehydrated. Thankfully, without eating, his bowels didn’t come into play.

He alternated amongst anger that Ana was not back yet as they had agreed it should only take her a day or two to walk home and even less to return with the horse and wagon, fear that something had happened to her and depression.

He was faced with his own failures. He thought he had done such a great job preparing for an end of the world scenario, but he was wrong. During his lucid moments, he had plenty of time for regret. First he had blown off caution by leaving all the children home alone. Then he had been naive in thinking that a BOB, or even a GHB, and a weapon would get him home with no complications.

Then he had taken the wrong vehicle on their day trip. At home in his shop was a fully restored, fully functioning 1966 Chevy pickup, a vehicle old enough not to have failed with the EMP. A vehicle which could have had them home safe within a few hours. Although the family knew he was working on it, they did not know he had completed all the repairs a week ago. It was the vehicle they should have been driving but for his pride and selfishness. Pride because he craved the prestige of driving it for the first time in the upcoming annual old car rally, and selfishness because he wanted the comfort of a newer vehicle for the long ride.

He failed his family again when he forgot to mention the truck to Anabeth before she left. And even if she or the kids thought to check on it, discover it was ready, the only key was on his keychain in his pocket. Now she would have to leave the children again, for a few days at least, to fetch him in a horse drawn wagon.

Perhaps his biggest failure was causing the situation he was in because of his own hurt feelings. He had been upset with Anabeth for not agreeing with him, for standing up for what she believed was right instead of mindlessly following his orders. So he had set a pace he knew she could not keep up with due to her battered physical condition and naturally shorter stride. He had moved on ahead, often getting out of sight, knowing it would upset and worry her. He had disregarded his own rules about situational awareness, travelling together, and staying safe simply to punish her.

He didn’t see the hole he stepped in because he was too busy looking behind, making sure he was hidden from her sight. He was looking behind while trying to move forward. He caused his own downfall and he deserved all the trouble he was now in. But his family did not.

Thus occupied, he failed to notice when the group entered the house. Not that he could have done anything to hide or otherwise defend himself. Two days prior, while trying to shift his body into a more comfortable position, he had knocked his gun to the floor. It was too painful to reach for it so he had left it there.

A bright light hit him in the eyes and he heard someone yelling, “Freeze!” then “There’s someone in here. Get the doc, he looks in bad shape.”

***

Day 24

“I told you to go last time we stopped,” Tyler said when Anabeth signaled him to pull off the road again.

Ana just rolled her eyes. “The house where I left David is just up the road. We should walk from here, scope out the place just in case he isn’t alone. The bike will be too noisy.”

Tyler went to the trailer and pulled out several bags, he tossed two to Ana and shouldered two himself.

“How’s the leg?” he asked.

“Doesn’t matter, David needs me,” she answered, then asked, “Ready?”

Ten minutes of fast paced walking and Ana signaled a stop. She pulled out her binoculars and scanned the house in the distance. “Shit! I see activity on the porch.

“No! No, no, no, no, no. They’ve got David.” And she was up and running before Tyler could stop her.

***

Day 22

“How is he, Doc?”

“Could be better, but I’ve seen worse,” was the medic’s cryptic response. “You can go in.”

The tall, muscular man carried himself with a military air. He walked to the couch, seated himself on the straight backed chair the doc had just vacated and took a long look at the injured man lying in front of him. Doc’s assessment seemed about right. The man was too thin, but who wasn’t these days, his leg was bound from mid-thigh to ankle with bandages, the dark circles around the eyes were fading thanks to the IV in his arm. He wasn’t clean by any stretch of the imagination, but neither was he sitting in his own waste as he had been when they found him that morning.

Some of his men had scrubbed the room with the limited supplies they had in preparation for the field surgery she had performed, but a rank aroma of blood, urine and vomit still hung in the air. Not enough to make one gag, but enough to cause the military man to involuntarily wrinkle his nose.

“Patrick Williams, friends call me Cap, ” He held out his hand.

After some hesitation, the other man took it and offered, “David.”

“How are you doing? Doc taking care of you ok?”

“I’m fine,” David lied, determined not to give any more information than was necessary to this stranger and his pack of ruffians.

“No you’re not, “ Patrick countered, “you were at death’s door when we found you, now you’ve moved back to the edge of his porch. You’ll be ok with some rest, medicine and food, but you have a long recovery ahead of you.

“Look, I understand where you’re coming from, you’ve got the weaker hand, you’re outnumbered by a bunch of strangers with no idea what we want. So let me reassure you, we don’t want anything you aren’t willing to share and we won’t do you any harm.”

David nodded but said nothing.

‘OK, that’s how they were gonna do this then. Give a little, get a little,’ Patrick thought, his opinion for David went up a little.

“My men and I are ex-military. We served our country, did tours in the middle east. We stayed loyal and followed orders even when we felt our commander in chief didn’t have our best interests at heart. Most of us expected to spend our entire careers in the military but all of us opted to not re-enlist when we knew the people in DC no longer supported us. Watching our friends and young kids, new recruits, die because we didn’t have proper body armor, rules of engagement that basically had us waiting for permission to return fire when we were under attack, being cut back to two meals a day while the politicos wined and dined lobbyists, well you get the picture.”

Patrick stopped talking, lost in his memories of how it felt to be betrayed by the very government he had sworn to protect. David nodded, expressionless, prodding him to continue.

“Our group stuck together back in civilian life, none of us had any close family, too much time away from home to keep a wife or husband or cultivate close relationships. So we stayed close to each other, found work as contractors with a group in DC and that’s all I can say about that.

“Or I’d have to shoot you,” Patrick smirked at the old joke and was surprised when he caught the ghost of a grin on David’s face.

“We’ve expected something like this was going to happen, new President, new administration that wasn’t backing down, not apologizing or kissing foreign asses. It was inevitable there would be fallout, but in my opinion, better than the road we had been on.” Patrick stopped talking suddenly, he couldn’t believe how much he had just shared. He was the strong, silent type, the one who got information out of others without revealing anything himself. But there was something about David that encouraged people to open up. Patrick’s gut feeling was that David was an okay guy.

Still, he decided to limit the information he was sharing.

“We’d been planning and preparing for a shtf scenario for some time. In fact, we’re only in this Washington right now because we came for a week long exercise on survival training. Five thousand miles from home when shit hits the fan and all our plans are for naught and we are struggling to get by.”

That wasn’t exactly true. Yes, they were from the other Washington. DC. And they were in the state of Washington for training, but they all had their EDC items and get-home bags, and while stockpiling goods was a part of their plans, it was only part. Every one of them had basic survival skills, while each of them had two or three specialties to contribute for the overall good. What they didn’t have at this point was a place to call home. Sure, they were organized and could easily have taken over any property during the chaos, but they were men of honor. They would not steal from others. They only wanted some land with the basics they would need to rebuild: water, fertile soil and some trees. An empty house, some livestock, crops would be a bonus, but they could survive with less. Patrick felt this information didn’t need to be shared yet, no one needed to know what their strengths or weaknesses were. And he didn’t want anyone getting defensive thinking they were coming in to take over.

Instead he explained they were trying to find the home of an uncle of one of their company back in DC. Stephen had given them the directions to his Uncle Bert Masterson’s house explaining people in that part of the country didn’t really use street addresses. So they followed directions using interstate and state routes, touristy places and local landmarks. By their reckoning they were within 30 miles of the big ranch with the purple house at the top of the hill which stood next door to the Masterson’s place.

David’s reaction to the name, Masterson, was slight and well controlled, but Patrick picked up on it. He waited a moment but David said nothing.

Patrick just looked at him, the old waiting game. First one to talk loses. David lost.

“I was on the road when it hit. Truck was a total waste so I grabbed my GHB and started walking. Been on the road until a couple of days ago, stepped in a hole and did this,” he waved a hand at his leg.

The slashes the doc had carved down his leg to relieve the compartment syndrome hurt like hell despite the pain meds the doctor had given him, and despite the doc’s reassurances he didn’t believe his leg would “be OK, right as rain.”

Patrick knew the man was hiding something, his body language basically screamed, "I'm lying." He had spoken as if he were travelling alone. But there was no way he could have moved from where he had been injured to here without help, much less have carried or assembled the supplies they found with him. Patrick's team had searched the property but found no one else, so they had posted guards against their return while Patrick tried to elicit information.

“Look, I know you have no more reason to trust us than we have to trust you. But really what choice do you have? You’re basically stuck on that couch for a while unless you have someone coming to help. Now, I don’t want any trouble. I meant what I said that we aren’t here to hurt you. We will stick around until you can travel then you can take off on your own or stick with us. Just let us know what you want.”

David was tired, physically tired, mentally tired and tired of fighting everything everyday. He wanted the pain to stop, he wanted the worrying, the fatigue, the utter despair to stop. Patrick had misread David, his silence hadn’t been a show of strength. It was a last effort to retain some dignity, to not burst into tears in front of the man who was offering to rescue him. David broke.

“What do I want? I want to go home to my wife and kids,” David sobbed.

***

“Feeling better?” Doc, a petite blond woman, was changing David’s IV when he woke.

He stalled for time, scrubbing a hand across his face and then back through his hair. Was it a bad dream or had he really burst out crying in front of the man with a very military bearing?

“It’s normal,” Doc assured him, “tears are a body’s way of relieving pain, stress, fear. Trust me, you aren’t the first man to cry on Cap’s shoulder, and I’m sure you won’t be the last.”

“Oh shit,” David turned away, embarrassed. Embarrassed but encouraged when he remembered how the strong, manly man had stayed with him, even moving to sit next to him on the couch and throw an arm around his shoulders. He had sat quietly while David sobbed out the whole story and then literally cried himself to sleep.

“Hey, it’s a good thing,” Doc smiled, taping the IV tubing to his arm. “You finally broke and told him what you needed. He and the guys have spent all afternoon planning on how to transport you home when I give the okay to move you. They found an old cart in the barn and modified it to carry you. All we need now is the location, where do you want to go?

“No pressure. You aren’t ready to share that yet, that’s ok. “

Oddly, David realized, he was ready to share, to trust, most of all to go home. He couldn’t say why, but he trusted Doc and Patrick. Getting home to his family had been his primary goal, but once he got past that, they would need to gather a community together to rebuild. He would have to start taking chances on people. Maybe Anabeth hadn’t been so wrong trying to help Cynthia after all.

Doc had finished changing his dressing, gave him more pain meds and was heading out the door to get him some soup when David called her back. “Please tell your captain I need to talk to him.”

***

Day 24

Chang sounded the alarm, “We got company.”

“Inside,” Cap barked to the two men helping David down the stairs. “Johnson, MacNeil, take point. The rest of you take perimeter positions.”

The men and women under his command took the positions Cap ordered, while he pulled his weapon and took cover. Without having to be asked, Chang updated his report. “Appears to be a single woman, 75 yards out, armed, making a beeline for our position, not taking any evasive action. I make at least one other person 100 feet behind her. And now he is on the move too.”

“I’ve got eyes on her, “ Cap answered. He waited, watching, when Anabeth was about ten yards out, he yelled, ”Stop right there!”

She slowed, hesitated, and was about to start running again when Tyler tackled her and took her to the ground.

“Stay down and toss your weapons aside,” Cap yelled.

“Dammit, Anabeth,” Tyler hissed at her looking around. There was no cover, nowhere to run. He saw no way out of this.

“We outnumber you, we are better armed and we will shoot,” Cap warned.

“Better do as they say,” Tyler tossed his gun to the side and glared at Ana until she did the same.

“Lay flat, put your hands on the back of your head. Don’t move or I will shoot.”

Cap looked to Chang who had been scanning the area for other hostiles. He reported, “Looks clear.”

Cap signaled and Johnson started towards the couple, MacNeil followed behind on high alert.

A commotion back at the house drew Cap’s attention. David was struggling against the men trying to drag him inside to safety.

“My wife,” Cap heard him say, “don’t shoot, that’s my wife, she’s okay.”

“Stand down,” Cap ordered, “Johnson, MacNeil retreat. Bring him here.”

“That’s my wife, please don’t hurt her,” David said to Cap, then yelled, “Anabeth!”

Half of the perimeter troops hearing the commotion moved back to the front of the house raising their weapons and drawing a bead on the couple in the field.

“David!” Anabeth stood and started moving towards her husband. Tyler rose to his knees trying to pull her down. Failing that, he grabbed his gun, stood and began running after her.

“Hold fire, goddammit hold your fire and everyone stay calm. Lower your weapons, take cover,” Cap yelled to the rear guard. “Who is that with her?” he asked David.

Squinting, struggling to keep his balance, David hesitated. “I don’t kno…Tyler, that looks like my brother in law, Tyler.

“Don’t shoot,” David yelled, waving at his wife and brother-in-law. “Ana, Tyler, don’t shoot, they are friendly.”

Tyler stopped upon hearing David’s cry, but Ana dropped her gun and continued full speed until she was once again in her husband’s arms.

***

“Thank you, thank you,” Ana said to each member of Cap’s team as they were introduced. She couldn’t stop smiling and trying to find some way to show how grateful she was. She had come to this house afraid to find her husband dead, instead she found him healing and a new group of people ready to join them.

They shared a meal and reviewed their plans for getting David home. They would use the cart Cap’s men had fashioned to move David as it was larger and had been padded with a mattress and some blankets. Tyler’s trailer would be used to load everything they could salvage from this house and any other vacant ones they passed along the way.

With the extra men, and arms, they felt it would be safe, and more comfortable for David, to return via the highway instead of the back route Ana had formerly used. Ana silently said a prayer of thanks and gave a quiet sigh of relief she would not have to pass the burned house and the corpse of the man she had murdered. She had some concerns about travelling through the town with the drunk wielding a BB gun, but Cap assured her he and his men could handle him.

Tyler was happy they would be able to retrieve the other Harley. He would not want to face Samantha if he came home without her bike.

Cap was happy because David had finally trusted him enough to share the fact that he lived in the purple house and the Mastersons were his next door neighbors.

“Alright, team, let’s get those horses saddled,” Cap ordered.

“Horses?” Ana asked.

“Yeah, there’s six beauties in the barn down the road.”

“Horses in an abandoned barn?“ Anabeth asked.

“Yes, and…?” Cap asked.

“I didn’t see any when I passed by. And if they were there, they wouldn’t have stayed if there was no food or water. Was the barn door open? Their stall doors?”

Cap looked at Chang who had found the animals. “Yes, sir.”

“Did they have food and water?” Ana queried.

“Uhmm, yeah I guess so.”

“Six horses will go through close to a bale of hay a day and a few hundred gallons of water a week, so unless one of you has…”

***

“Cap, we got something,” Fredrickson’s voice came over the walkie talkie. He had taken four men and gone in to check out the barn while Cap, Hernandez and Anabeth waited outside. Cap nodded to Hernandez indicating he should hold his position, then headed off to the barn with Anabeth following.

Fredrickson had men watching the front and back of the barn, the rest stood in a circle pointing their weapons at the floor. The straw had been brushed back, as was an inch of the dirt floor beneath it. In the cleared area, a metal ring was clearly visible; less easy to see was a square door cut into the floor.

“Open it,” Cap said. Fredrickson shouldered his rifle and using two hands lifted the heavy door up and over, letting it fall with a bang.

“Sorry,” he winced seeing Cap’s scowl at his carelessness.

Even before the clatter of the door hitting the floor had finished echoing, they heard the distinctive sound of a shotgun being cocked. Anabeth felt something large hit her and carry her to the floor. The left side of her face was smashed into the dirt while stiff canvas material scratched along the entire side of the right. She felt a warm breath on her ear and heard Cap whisper, “Quiet.”

She nodded agreement, barely able to move her head, then felt the man roll off her. He was belly crawling to the opening when a wavering voice called out from the depths, “I have a gun and I’m not afraid to use it.”

Anabeth jumped up yelling, “Stop, they’re children.”

“I’m not a child, I’m 14,” the voice cracked on the last word.

“Alright, son, let’s all just calm down and talk, OK?

“My name is Patrick Williams, US Army, retired,” he said in an authoritative voice, then added in a softer one, “but you can call me Cap. My friends and I are just passing through, we don’t mean you any harm, I apologize if we scared you. If you’d like to put the gun down and come up here, we’ll do whatever we can to help you before we move on.”

Whispers came from the darkness, Ana thought she heard a girl’s voice and a smaller child. Looking up she saw Cap holding up three fingers. ‘OK, we agree on that,’ she thought.

“We’ll come up, but I’m not giving up my gun.”

“Negative, son, I have to protect my men. I need you to set your gun in the light,” Cap shined his flashlight into the hole highlighting a three foot circle on the floor. “If not, we’ll just have to close the door and leave you down there.”

More whispering, then a scared voice, a girl this time, “Do you promise you won’t hurt us?”

Hiding a smile, Cap called back, “Yes. Now just put the gun on the ground where I can see it.”

Peering over the edge, Anabeth saw an old .22 rifle slide into the light, followed by a patch of red hair atop two green eyes and about a million freckles. The boy shaded his eyes as if the light was too bright, then ducked his head to protect his eyes as he lifted a ladder into place and climbed up.

Behind him wafted an odor of urine and feces, not necessarily human. He wasn’t clean, but he wasn’t particularly filthy. He looked as if he had made some effort to bathe regularly and keep his clothes clean. He also didn’t look 14, maybe 12, but more likely an older 11. And, for all of his bravado, he looked terrified. Anabeth wanted to rush forward and gather him in her arms, but Cap put out his arm and stalled her.

He turned to the boy and extended his hand, “I’m Cap.”

The boy studied him for a moment, took in his Army fatigues, military issued rifle, his soldier’s posture, and ignored the outstretched hand. Instead he stood taller and raised his right hand in a salute. “Douglas Gladstone, sir.”

The men and women all followed suit, returning the salute, as did Cap. For the first time, the boy smiled.

“You served?” Cap teased.

“No, sir, my father did, in Iraq.”

“And where is he now?” Cap asked and immediately wanted to kick himself as he saw the tears begin to well up in the boy’s eyes.

Impossibly, the child drew himself up even taller, straighter, looked Cap in the eye and answered, “Arlington National Cemetery, sir. He is an American hero.”

This time Cap stepped forward and pulled the boy into his arms. “God bless you, son, and your father.”

“Dougie?

Pushing away from Cap and palming the tears from his eyes, Doug called out to his sisters, “Come on up, Mary and Rose.”

‘Good Lord,’ thought Anabeth, ‘they’re triplets!” Upon closer examination she realized there was probably a year or two between each child, but they all had the same pale skin, impossibly red hair, fiery green eyes and endless freckles. All were dressed similarly, button flannel shirts, blue jeans and cowboy boots. The biggest difference Ana could see, besides their gender of course, was the youngest girl was clutching the biggest rooster Anabeth had ever seen.

The little girl, Rose, walked over to Ana, still carrying the chicken almost as big as herself. She set the bird down but kept one arm tightly around it and slipped her free hand into Ana’s. “Are you going to help us find our Mom?”

“I...umm….we….” Ana was at a loss for words. She couldn’t leave these defenseless children here alone, but she couldn’t go off hunting for their mom either, she had her own family to get back to. She looked to Cap for guidance.

“What say we all go back to the house, sit down and talk this out. We can get you kids something to eat, too, we have some MREs and maybe even a couple of candy bars.”

“I want sugar and spice,” Mary spoke for the first time. Cap and Ana exchanged looks, thinking that was an odd food request. “My bunnies,” Mary clarified, pointing to the basement opening.

“Chang,” Cap started, but the private was already halfway down the ladder.

“We’re not hungry, sir, we just ate.”

“Ate what?”

A long low whistle came from underground, “Cap, you have got to see this.”

A wire cage with two long haired rabbits emerged from the trapdoor, followed by a grinning Chang. “There are shelves full of canned food, mason jars, box mixes, even 5 gallon buckets full of food. And water, I think, 55 gallon barrels of something. There’s gotta be enough to last a year!”

***

“Sir, did you find any...oh children,” Doc added as she caught sight of the team’s newest members.

Cap nodded, “Yes, our new personnel. And weapons, food, water, gas -- you’ll like this -- medical supplies. There is a veritable storehouse under the barn.” He smiled, then nodded permission for Doc, who took off like a kid promised a free run in a candy store. Cap set guard duty rotation for the rest of the day, then broke the remaining crew into teams to inventory the barn and thoroughly search all the outbuildings as well as to look for anything that might mark buried caches.

Tyler gave the children a quick check up while Ana heated water. Once the children had bathed and dressed in clean clothes, Cap and Ana sat them down to talk. They learned after their father’s death, their mother had used most of the death benefits and their savings to purchase the farm and stock it with supplies. Beyond that, Doug didn’t know much about their finances except there wasn’t money for any luxuries. They were learning to grow their own food and Penelope, their mother, had taken in the horses to board for the extra income. Clothes were handed down from one child to the next and nothing was wasted. Food scraps were fed to the chickens, what they couldn’t eat was added to the manure pile to compost. Extra eggs and produce were sold at the end of the drive, as were the watercolor landscapes Mary painted and the quilts Penelope made.

Shortly after the event, Penelope had sat the kids down and told them something bad had happened, although she was very vague on details. She reviewed all the safety plans she had taught them, reminded them how important it was for them to do their chores, impressed upon them how much she loved them and then she had left. Doug saw her take an envelope of cash out of the freezer and had instructed him to watch his sisters, instructing them to hide in the cellar if they saw anyone near the farm.. She was going to go into town to buy any supplies she could find and would be back in a day or two. She never returned.

To distract the children from being preoccupied with their mother’s disappearance, and to satisfy their own curiosity, Ana asked about the horses.

“I was here about a week ago, I even walked through your property when I left. I never saw you or any horses. Where were you?”

“Mom told us to keep the animals out of sight or else someone might take them. So everyday we would lead the horses to the far pasture where the chicken coop is and every night we would bring them back in. We had taken the horses out and were coming back to the house when we saw you bringing that man on a horse. We know the Hartigans and you aren’t them even though you were in their house, so we hid in the cellar and didn’t go near our house again. Mary and Rose would keep watch from the barn while I fed and watered the horses in the pasture and every couple of days I would go out to the coop and put out feed for the chickens,” Doug slapped his palm to his forehead. “I completely forgot the chickens, I need to go feed them.”

“I’ll go with you,” Ana volunteered, “and, Cap, maybe you can send a couple of your men to help us wrangle chickens?”

***

Anabeth was impressed with the chicken coop, it was tall enough to walk into and had a dirt floor with straw for easy cleaning; one wall had nesting boxes, two others had several roosting bars. The coop was located amongst the trees which provided natural protection for the birds from other avian species as they free ranged during the day and a solid wood door to lock the birds in at night or during a storm. A rain catchment system was set up to catch and hold rainwater, which was then gravity fed through PVC piping to a row of chicken nipples inside. The nipples were similar to the watering spout used for hamsters. This allowed the chickens to drink on demand with little waste and only necessitated manually filling the water barrel if it ran low on rain water, which didn’t happen often in the Pacific Northwest.

Checking the nests, Ana and Doug found over 4 dozen eggs. Doug shamefacedly admitted he had not been collecting them daily; Ana assured him he had done a good job caring for his sisters so a little slacking on chores would be forgiven. Besides, she reminded him, fresh eggs could last up to a month without refrigeration. They would just have to be sure to candle and float test them for freshness before using them.

Stepping out of the coop they were treated to the sight of two city born and bred men trying to wrangle chickens. One man was running stooped over grabbing at the birds, at best he would come up with a handful of feathers. The other was trying to use his jacket as a net to snare the birds, also unsuccessfully. Then they tried to herd the birds into the coop.

Finally taking pity on them, Ana told them to sit and rest, she and Doug would collect the birds. The men gratefully sank to the ground and the woman and the boy dropped down next to them.

“What the…” asked the first man.

“We’re just going to take a few minutes to rest,” Ana assured them.

“Well, it’s getting dark soon, we need to gather up these critters and head back soon.”

“We will,” she promised. “There’s a lot of phrases that come from chickens. ‘Hen pecked’ the females use their beaks to peck at each other and at the roosters to get them to do what they want. ‘Pecking order’ they peck at each other to show dominance with the most dominant one getting first choice in everything. ‘Ruling the roost’ is the one who is in charge, usually the head rooster.” The men looked at Ana like she had slipped a few gears; they had no idea what had made her feel this lecture was important, or even interesting.

“And of course, there’s the one about ‘chickens coming home to roost.’ “ She pointed to the coop, and the men noticed for the first time that the birds were quietly walking single file into it. “You don’t need to chase them, they will put themselves to bed around sundown; before that though, no chance in heck of catching them. Now we just go in, pluck them off their roosting bars and put them into these cages. The hardest part is carrying the cages back, which is why we brought you two,” Ana smiled at them.

Doug balked at leaving their farm, afraid his mother would return and be upset to find them gone. Cap tried the ‘either you come with us or we leave you here alone’ tactic but Doug and Mary called his bluff, although Rose was near to tears. Ana stepped in, used her best “because I’m the mom” tone and offered to leave a note for their mom. Doug seemed to be relieved to be able to release some of the responsibility he had been carrying and gave in.

“We aren’t really taking all the animals,” Hernandez groused.

“Ask me that again when we are eating bacon and eggs instead of MREs,” Cap answered.

“Or next time you want a new shirt, pants or even a blanket,” Ana added. To their questioning looks she explained, “These are Angora rabbits, I can harvest their fur to spin into yarn or thread to weave into cloth.”

“You can do that from the fur of just two rabbits?”

“Oh no, it will take many rabbits. We will have to breed these guys, but fortunately they breed like, well like rabbits.”

“I don’t think that little girl will take too kindly to you killing her pets for their fur.”

“Well that’s the beauty of it. They shed their fur, no need to kill them.”

Hernandez stopped complaining, but still his body language let it be known that he felt carrying rodents was beneath him.

DAY 26

At long last, only two days behind Ana’s schedule, and with much prodding from her in her eagerness to get home to her children, their convoy was on the road. Cap was in the lead, riding the largest stallion, with Hernandez by his side on a beautiful percheron.

Next came Tyler and his trailer loaded perilously high with the most urgently needed supplies. The remaining supplies had all been moved to the children’s farm as it was the more secure, more easily guarded property. Four of Cap’s men stayed behind to guard it until he could return in a day or two to retrieve the supplies. Two more of the soldiers brought up the rear on two more horses. Between them and Tyler, Anabeth drove the wagon pulled by the remaining horses. Mary and Rose rode with Ana, but Dougie had cajoled his way onto the passenger seat of Tyler’s bike. The rest of the soldiers took turns riding with Ana and walking guard on either side of the caravan. Slowly but surely they made their way down the freeway. They hoped to travel the whole distance in two days with only two stops.

First they had to retrieve Samantha’s bike on which Chang was able to put a “very temporary patch” of duct tape on the gas tank. “It ain’t pretty, but it should get her home. And if not, it will be easy enough to replace,” he said.

The second stop was about a mile outside of the town they had trouble in. They set up camp for the night, literally circling the wagons, trailers and bikes. The horses were tethered inside the circle and the soldiers took turns standing guard and sleeping under or just outside the vehicles. Ana had insisted on taking her shift on guard duty but Cap convinced her she would be a liability as his men were trained to a certain routine and were used to working with each other. She would upset that routine. Doc had the final say, insisting that her sleeping next to David would help him rest and would allow Doc to sleep knowing Ana would be vigilant in watching him.

After a night’s sleep, a group of four led by Cap approached the town. They met with the toll takers and explained their convoy would be passing through the town.

“But there is a toll to be paid,” BB gun man said.

Cap just stared at him until the man lowered his weapon and began to squirm.

“No,” Cap said, “no toll. We will be passing through town within the hour. There will be no toll and we will not be bothered or there will be a price that you will pay. Are we clear?”

The man looked to his friends for support and getting none, he spit on the ground at Cap’s feet then turned and slunk away. Cap then looked at the remaining men, making eye contact and holding it until they nodded their acquiescence. Cap heard some grumbling as he started to walk away, he spun quickly on his heel and stared down the most vocal of the group.

“What do you expect us to do?” the man whined, “Our families are hungry, this is how we feed them.”

“Find another way,” was Cap’s only reply.

As promised, Cap, Anabeth and their convoy passed through the town within the hour. They were met with glares and grumbling but no attempt was made to interfere with their progress.

“Those men will be trouble,” Cap said quietly to Anabeth. “Very soon they will run out of food and when they are desperate enough, they will move out to other areas to steal.” He dropped his hand to his rifle, “I would be doing us all a favor if I just dealt with them right now.”

Anabeth opened her mouth to protest, but Cap continued talking as he took the reins and urged his horse forward. “But that would make me no better than them.”

DAY 28

The trip was completed with no further problems and the weary group was greeted with tears and hugs. Soon Tyler and Doc shooed everyone away and got David settled into bed in the den which Samantha and the children had set up as a hospital room as it was easier than carrying him to his bedroom upstairs.

With her husband resting comfortably, Ana went back outside to help get their guests settled. She was surprised, and yet not surprised, to find Cap and Sammy working together. The children had disappeared into their bedrooms which they had elected to share with Doug, Mary and Rose. Sam and Tyler were given the guest room, Cap was offered a room of his own but elected to stay with his men in the tents they set up in the yard.

Their quiet farm was suddenly a hive of activity: Tyler and Sam were inventorying all the medical supplies and setting up an infirmary in the large family room, Cap and some of his crew were carrying in boxes of food and dry goods, others were moving the animals to the barn and the pastures. Ana had not yet learned all of their names, nor had she taken a head count, but she was certain they were missing more than those left at the children’s farm. And she didn’t see Doc.

On Cap’s next trip up the steps, arms loaded with three boxes marked “Canning Jars” she stopped him. “We, that is you, seem to be missing some people.”

He set his load on a small side table, took her arm and led her to the far end of the veranda and motioned for her to sit. He took the seat next to hers and began to talk.

“I sent Doc and Chang over to the Masterson’s to reassure them and let them know what is going on over here. Also Doc can give them a quick check up and see if they need anything. A four man team is out scouting the area, taking inventory of who is here and what properties are vacant, I’ve also assigned a few people to set up roadblocks on the highway on both sides of the property.”

“Road blocks? Is that really necessary?”

“Think about those men who wanted to collect a toll to pass through their town. I told you they would be coming soon. And there will be others. Most will be harmless, looking just to pass through, some to settle down. But there will be others looking to do us harm, to take the supplies we have or maybe even to take over your home, your farm.

“As soon as we get things squared away here, I will set up outposts around the perimeter of your and the Masterson’s farms. Then we will stake a claim to all that are vacant and organize work parties…”

He saw the look on Anabeth’s face and said, “Maybe I’m overstepping? I thought you would welcome our expertise, but if not we will move on.”

“This is my, our home, mine and David’s. And we have watched out for the Masterson’s for years, they are like family to us. I don’t think I like someone telling me what to do on my own land.”

“My apologies, ma’am,” Cap stood, “my men and I will finish unloading your supplies and we will be on the road tomorrow by first light.”

“No, it’s not...I mean I think...maybe...ugh!! This is just too much at once.”

Cap sat back down, at the edge of his seat as if unsure of his welcome and was prepared to launch again on a moment’s notice. He sat quietly, waiting for Anabeth. She twisted her hands together and then apart, staring off into the distance.

“Tell me your plans and give me some time to discuss it with David.”

As Cap laid out his plans in detail, Anabeth realized how much she needed his help. He was providing solutions to problems she didn’t even know existed. And she realized how woefully understaffed her family was to protect their home, much less do all the work necessary just to survive.

It would be hard, but maybe, just maybe with Cap and his men to help, they would survive.

DAY 24

A single tear slid down Beckett’s face as he placed the final stone on the grave. He picked up his four year old daughter, said a silent prayer, then told his daughter to say goodbye.

“Bye Mommy, Bye Bastion. I love you,” she said, “I see you when you wake up.” At her innocent words, the soldier wept.

Gathering his daughter into his arms, Beckett resumed their journey. How long he had been on the road, he didn’t know. Where they were going now was partially unknown. Before she died, his wife had told him of a couple she had met on her travels. She knew only the woman’s name and that they had land somewhere to the east. Beckett’s daughter insisted they lived on a farm with blue bunnies.

There was nothing for them at what had once been their home. The cities he had passed through on his travels were abandoned or destroyed. The few properties that were still standing were heavily guarded and his presence was unwelcome. He knew he should return to base and report for duty. But he had just buried half his family and he wasn't about to abandon his only surviving child.

So he walked east into his own shadow as the sun set behind him. It was as good a direction as any.