“At least we’re out of any populated areas. If we stick with the original plan, we should be fine. Everything will be okay. Chicago still has a significant number of people taking shelter. The word will get out. I sent messages about numbers to avoid any strikes, so I hope they’re well received. We’ll keep following up.” Jesse was loading extra fuel cans into the Volvo while she updated everyone.
Her hope was to keep her mind occupied to avoid thinking about the devastation that had taken place. So far, it was working. They had an approximately two-hour drive to reach the cabin now, and she wanted nothing more than to get there and set the next stage of the plan into motion.
Mikel returned to the Rover, stowed three diesel cans in the back, and then transferred the baby and Becka to the Volvo. Polly and Stevie replaced them. They pulled out of the truck stop and returned to the road. Before long, the mood in the Rover was light, and Byron was leading a round of 99 bottles of Sal’s backroom hooch on the bar. It was more fun than the traditional version, mostly because half the participants didn’t understand the context.
Nick scanned through radio stations, hoping to find a national news feed. So far, he’d come across a local station that was being run by some kids that must have broken in to yell swear words live on air and a bible station. The kids’ swearing was more fun than the bible talk, but that wasn’t saying much. He was about to switch it off when Jesse hit the AM button. He scrolled through AM and fell on a national talk show that usually did a conspiracy theory theme but was now giving updates on shelters and what to do if you see a wolf. They listened for a few minutes before deciding that following this advice would most likely get you killed.
Jesse laughed for the first time since hearing about New York, lightening the mood in the car a little, and Seth took that opportunity to launch into a stand-up act about waiting in line outside a shelter. His main topic was, “Who would you rather feed to the wolves, the lady in front of you or the guy behind you who keeps bumping into you and smells like cabbage?” It landed about as well as expected. Becka gave a courtesy laugh. Nick thought Seth was hilarious. He chose the lady in front because now the line was shorter. After an hour of “Who would you rather feed to the wolves,” they arrived in Eagle River.
Seth was impressed with the scenery. He and Becka wanted to stop and go foraging for dinner supplies. The other passengers, including Hope, disagreed. Byron called to do a supply check. Everyone agreed to go straight through to the cabin.
As they turned off the main road to head into the woods, a group of locals waved them down. Mikel slowed to a stop, and the four armed themselves, preparing for the worst. Jesse slowed several yards behind Mikel, leaving room for him to back up if needed. Nick had set two rifles on the console between the seats, and Seth was holding another in the back seat.
One of the locals, a thirty-something woman, stepped towards the passenger’s window, and Byron lowered it.
“You’s folks headed to a cabin?” She gestured down the road.
“Yep. Thought we’d get out of town for a few days to do some fishing. Maybe get some sun. It’s been a bit hectic in the city over the last few days.” Byron laughed. She joined in. The others stepped forward and joined in.
“We just wanted to warn you about the road ahead. And ask a favor.”
“Okay, shoot.”
“There’s been some crazy weather up here, so trees keep falling across the road. Watch out for them. Marci here had one come down on her truck bed just yesterday. Cripe’s sake, it scared her.” The one called Marci nodded frantically.
“Anyhoo, we were hoping you’s guys could do us a big favor and stop up the road oh…couple-two-three miles and toss some hay out for the horses there? We’d be appreciative. See, Marci’s truck’s the only one’s got the clearance to get up to the hay there. With it smashed, we don’t have a way to feed ’em.”
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“I think we can make that happen. No problem at all.” Mikel was leaning over Byron a bit to join in the conversation.
“Well, thank you very much. When you get back in town, come by the store for some brewskis, and we’ll give you a discount, you betcha.” She was beaming.
“Will do. Alright then, see you. Thanks.”
Mikel pulled away slowly, followed by Jesse. She called a moment later and was updated on the conversation. As they drove through the forest, the trees leaned over the road in an ominous way. A strong gust of wind could bring some of them down. They didn’t see any signs of freshly fallen trees, but the forest was so thick with underbrush, leaves, and smaller trees that it was difficult to see anything.
After driving two miles down the narrow, poorly maintained single-lane road, a turnoff to the right led down a deeply rutted dirt lane that more closely resembled a trail than anything that received regular traffic. Mikel pulled to a stop, and Byron called Jesse. The conference was short and sweet. Polly and Stevie swapped places with Nick and Julie and some extra firepower.
Jesse stayed at the entrance to the dirt lane and had Polly take the wheel. She then took her rifle kit from the back, along with her thermal scope and some came gear, then headed into the woods at top speed. Of course, top speed was limited due to the undergrowth. Brambles, deadfall, uneven ground, and thick bushes made progress difficult. She still made excellent time.
As she moved through the trees, the only sounds were of water dripping from leaf to leaf, animals moving about in the underbrush, and the occasional call of a bird. She moved without so much as a snapped twig. She’d trained for situations like this and was able to fall into that training at a moment’s notice.
The Rover was moving along the lane slowly, creeping really, which was good since she wouldn’t have been able to keep up had Mikel been going any faster. As the car rounded a corner in the thick trees, a pasture of green, flowing grass opened on the left. A wooden fence made from rough-cut pine logs surrounded the field, and a team of horses wandered about in the lower portion, appearing well-fed and in immaculate condition.
As Mikel drove past the field, a tree fell behind the Rover. Another fell a few yards ahead. It was clearly an ambush. They had just cleared the field by seven or eight yards and were surrounded by dense woods on each side again. The as-of-yet-unknown perpetrators in the woods began calling out to the vehicle. Wicked, racist, vile taunts were being hurled at the Rover, and the voices were getting louder. They were closing in. Mikel counted at least ten from the sound, possibly as many as 14.
Byron lowered his window, as did Julie. Sounds of underbrush being crushed down and branches cracking as bodies moved through were growing in volume, as were the taunts. It had been roughly ten seconds since the trees fell when three men with hunting rifles stepped out onto the road behind the fallen tree in front of the Rover. Two aimed at the vehicle, while the third addressed the occupants.
“Go ahead and place your hands on the ceiling. Let’s see those hands up now. I have a few friends coming up to relieve you guys of your extra gear, and then you all can be on your way.”
A group of men emerged from the trees on the left, followed by another group on the right. Mikel was disappointed to find his count off. There were only nine. He knew that in the next ten seconds, there would only be three. Five seconds if Jesse was in the perfect spot.
Julie looked one of them in the eye and spat in his face, followed with, “Go to hell, racist bastard. Choke on it and die.”
He raised his rifle and was preparing to bring the butt of the gun down on her face when the left side of his head began to sink in slightly. His left eye bulged out for a moment, then retreated before disappearing in a shower of blood, bone, and brain matter. The gore rained down on the man standing next to him, as did the remainder of the high-caliber round Jesse had fired. It found purchase in the second man’s neck just below the jawline and exited the other side before removing a significant portion of his shoulder.
The next shot targeted the men on the left. The first hit had removed the top of his skull, exposing his brain. The bullet traveled into the next man’s face, entering his right eye socket and exiting behind his left ear. At this point, the bullet traveled into the third man’s right side at his mid-chest level. The bullet hit ribs and finally expanded. The damage was extensive, collapsing the right side of his chest and blowing most of the important bits through the back of his chest. Another three shots went off in rapid succession, all headshots.
The man who had addressed them initially was standing there alone, surrounded by the dead bodies of his companions. Mikel moved to get out of the car, but Byron stopped him. He looked back at Julie and nodded. She jumped out and walked up to him.
“Looks like you messed up, country boy. You really should pick your targets better. Something else, too. Don’t be a racist, disgusting asshole.”
She turned and walked away. As she got back in the Rover, a single shot rang out.