Under a Tell-Tale Sky: Disruption - Book 1 (31 page)

Luke nodded. “That’s a generous offer and we, or at least some of us, might take you up on it. But I really want to try to connect with my dad first. He’s at the Coast Guard station down at Oak Island.”

“Family’s important,” Vern agreed. “How you figure to get there?”

“That’s a problem,” Luke said. “I think we’ve been pushing our luck a bit, riding around in the Humvees and these uniforms. We haven’t had any problems in the countryside, but I don’t know exactly what to expect closer to a population center. For sure, we’ll attract more notice, and if it’s of the ‘official’ variety, we’ll either get in a shootout or have to surrender. Even if we run into troops who don’t know we’re AWOL, they’re likely gonna want to conscript us and our vehicles into their operation—not too many military commanders would warm to the idea of a lieutenant running around doing whatever he pleases. Do you have any idea what’s going on in the city?”

“Not a real good idea, but we do have kind of a grapevine,” Vern said. “I hear it’s pretty bad with no law left to speak of. The gangs are runnin’ things and they’re starting to spread out from the city. One of our neighbors took his boat down quiet like one night and said there’s some soldiers around the docks and a Coast Guard patrol boat in the river, but he didn’t contact ‘em. He just looked around a bit and came home.”

Luke sat up straighter at the mention of the boat. “If we can contact the Coast Guard boat, I might be able to get word to my dad.”

Vern nodded. “We got a couple of boats and I can take you downriver. Between me, Richard, and Donny, I reckon we can get you all into civvies. If we get stopped by the wrong folks, you’re just farmers from upriver, comin’ in to check out the situation.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Luke said.

Appalachian Trail

Mile Marker 998.6 Northbound

East of Bluemont, Virginia

Day 16, 3:00 p.m.

Bill Wiggins stopped to catch his breath, trying to ignore the pack straps cutting into his shoulders and his aching back and feet. Tex stepped up beside him and looked up the hill.

She flashed a weary smile. “Only another half mile.”

Wiggins snorted. “It’s not the half mile I mind. It’s the three-hundred-foot vertical part.”

She nodded and took the lead. He fell in behind her to trudge up the incline.

It was their second full day afoot and they’d covered barely twenty-five miles total. The afternoon they’d fled, the first three miles were a steep climb, and he immediately doubted the wisdom of overloading their packs. They reached the ridgetop and only two miles further when by mutual agreement, they moved off the trail and made cold camp. They’d used the remaining daylight to empty and reload their packs, abandoning heavier items they’d grabbed in their hasty flight. The only consolation was eating their fill of food they would have otherwise left behind. They started the next day on full stomachs.

They made twelve miles the second day, crossing US 50 at Ashby Gap and continuing four miles to the Rod Hollow shelter, arriving with two hours of daylight remaining. They were limping by the time they made camp in the woods, well away from the shelter, Wiggins more than Tex. They boiled pasta in the little pot of the ultralight camp stove Levi had included in the pack. They wolfed it down plain, carbs to balance the nuts and jerky they’d eaten through the day. The little AT guidebook was already proving invaluable, for its list of water sources alone. They topped their camel packs at the shelter before retreating to their hidden campsite and stringing their bell-studded fishing line through the trees.

When Wiggins removed his boots to massage his aching feet, he’d found the nails of both big toes purplish and tender to the touch. Roomy, steel-toed work boots were fine for standing on the engine-room deck plates for long hours, but far from ideal for hiking. Tex was having similar problems, though her toenails weren’t yet discolored. But exhaustion proved an effective anesthetic and they’d crawled into their hammocks with the setting sun and slept like the dead to rise, stiff and sore, at first light.

They breakfasted on leftover cold pasta, jerky, and a handful of nuts, then donned extra pairs of socks to pad their aching feet. They laced their boots extra tight across the insteps, seeking to protect their battered toes, and started north with the rising sun—to find even more challenging terrain. Yesterday was long grueling climbs followed by equally long descents, but the past hours had been a roller coaster in comparison: a seemingly endless series of steep climbs with equally steep downhill grades, jamming their toes despite the tightness of the laces.

Wiggins was close to hobbling, and despite having made only ten miles for the day and with several hours of daylight remaining, he’d readily agreed to Tex’s suggestion they start looking for a place to camp. He limped up the hill behind her now, trying not to fixate on their poor progress—two and a half days to make twenty-five miles—at this rate it would take him over four months to reach his family, provided his feet held out. He shook off the gloom and spoke to Tex’s back.

“So what does the guidebook say about this Bear’s Den place?”

“It looks to be a fairly substantial facility,” she said. “It’s a state park and listed as ‘the premier hiker’s hostel on the AT.’ Looks like they have showers and food service, though I doubt if there’s anyone there at this point. I’m just hoping we can liberate some toilet paper and … other things. Levi was a bit stingy with paper goods. We can hunt food, but we can’t make toilet paper and I’m not a big fan of leaves.”

“You think we’ll run into anyone?” he asked.

“I’m thinking no,” she said back over her shoulder, “but it’s probably more likely there than other places. It is a park off a paved road.”

“Wait up,” Wiggins said, and Tex complied, her eyebrows raised in a question as Wiggins caught up with her.

“Let’s leave our packs hidden back here off the trail and approach this place cautiously. If we have to run, we’re not doing it with packs on our back. We can loop back later and get them. For that matter, maybe we ought to just keep to the woods and bypass this place.”

Tex shook her head. “My camel pack ran dry a mile back and the next water source beyond Bear’s Den is at least two hours, given our rate of travel. And what if it’s dry? How’s your water?”

“I’m almost dry too,” he admitted. “All right, then I guess it’s the ‘cautious approach’ scenario. Let’s get a little closer to the top, then ditch our packs. I’m thinking we don’t walk into the place from the trail but circle around and give it a good look from cover first.”

Tex grinned. “You’re getting so damned paranoid; Levi would be proud.”

“I became a convert as soon as people started shooting at us.”

Tex nodded and started back up the hill. When the trees began to thin, they moved off the trail and took off their packs. Wiggins opened his and pulled out the little survival rifle, quickly assembling it and slapping in a magazine.

“Going squirrel hunting?” Tex asked.

“Hey, it’s better than nothing. You got the Glock?”

Tex reached around and patted the small of her back. “It hasn’t been out of reach since the first shots were fired.”

Wiggins nodded and they moved through the woods to the edge of a clearing. There in the center stood an impressive stone lodge built into the side of a low hill with a door to a daylight or ‘walk out’ basement in the rear. They kept to the woods and crept all the way around the building, alert for any signs of habitation.

“No activity, no cars,” Wiggins whispered. “I’d say no one’s home.”

“I agree,” Tex said. “Let’s go back around. That basement door is supposed to be the hikers’ entrance, accessible twenty-four hours a day.”

Wiggins nodded and they emerged from the clearing and walked to the rear of the lodge. Sure enough, the door had a keypad.

“What’s up with that?” Wiggins asked.

“According to the guidebook, you’re supposed to enter the ‘mileage code’ for access. Not that it matters, since there’s no power.”

Wiggins was looking around. He spotted what he was looking for and returned with a large rock and smashed a window.

“I don’t think that’s what they had in mind for ‘hiker access,’“ Tex said.

“Hey, we got our share of the payoff money from the ship, I’ll leave a couple of hundred bucks.”

“Works for me,” Tex said as Wiggins tapped glass shards from the window frame with the rock and reached inside to unlock the window.

“I’m smaller,” Tex said. “Boost me in and I’ll unlock the door.”

Moments later they were inside, examining a row of bunk beds and a lounge with basic amenities. Wiggins followed Tex down a hall to a bathroom, and heard her emit a relieved sigh. He followed her gaze to a tampon dispenser on the wall and suppressed a smile. Couldn’t really fault Levi for not putting that essential in his ‘getting home’ bag, he thought.

He walked to the sink and turned the faucet, surprised when water gushed out. Pressure was low, but adequate and he let it run a long moment to make sure it wasn’t just residual water in the line.

“Damn! Running water. I’m thinking that must mean gravity flow from a tank—”

“And I’m thinking SHOWERS! Try the hot water,” Tex said.

“Fat chance,” Wiggins said as he twisted the knob. Warm water gushed across his hand.

“Well, I’ll be damned. Must be solar.”

“Hallelujah!” Tex said, and Wiggins laughed and nodded to a shelf piled with towels and personal-sized soap and shampoo.

“Ladies first,” he said. “I’ll have a look around and stand watch out here just to make sure no one catches us by surprise. After you’ve showered, you can return the favor. But first, let’s go back and grab our packs.”

An hour later, they had both finished their showers and were sitting in the lounge area of the hiker hostel.

“We still have daylight left, and I’m feeling much better,” Wiggins said. “Should we try to put a few more miles behind us?”

Tex shook her head. “I think both our feet could use the rest. I also think we have to face facts. We can’t continue like this. We’ve been hiking less than three days and we’re both near crippled. We HAVE to get better footwear, or we’re unlikely to make it at all.”

“And how we gonna do that? It’s not like there’s an REI or a Cabela’s on the trail.”

Tex flipped through the guidebook. “There’s a general store in Bluemont, and this is hiking country. They might have something. Even sneakers or running shoes would be better than these work boots.”

“Okay, how far to Bluemont?”

“A mile and a half as the crow flies, but about three times that overland. We can take the AT down to Snicker’s Gap, but then we’d have to get on the road. From the switchbacks, I’m guessing it will be a hell of a climb up the road to Bluemont.”

“I don’t know, Tex. An eight- or nine-mile round trip that doesn’t get us any closer to home, to check out a store that’s surely not open and probably doesn’t have what we need if it is? That doesn’t sound promising.”

“We can use your patented ‘rock method’ to open it, and we just leave money if we find what we need.” She sighed. “But you’re right, anyway you hack it, it’s the better part of a day’s trip and doesn’t get us any closer to home.”

“What’s the next possibility?”

“Harpers Ferry. A bit over twenty miles, but that’s a fairly populous area, and I’m a bit worried about straying off the trail there. In fact, I was already worried about Harpers Ferry anyway.”

“Why?”

“Because we cross both the Shenandoah and the Potomac rivers there, and given what we saw at Front Royal, I’m guessing there’ll be roadblocks on the bridges. And a boat’s pretty much a nonstarter, even if we could find one, because both rivers are full of rapids at that point. It’s bridges or nothing.”

“So is there any good news?”

Tex looked over at the rows of bunks. “Well, if we stay here tonight we don’t have to sack out in those damned hammocks. I mean, they’re better than sleeping on the ground with the creepy crawlies and they are light to carry, but they’re getting old real quick. I could use a good night’s sleep on a mattress.”

Wiggins looked skeptical. “I’d love to sack out in a real bed too, but we’re sitting ducks if anyone stumbles in here when we’re sleeping.”

“If anyone shows up, it will likely be from the road, and they’ll break in the front and we’ll hear them. And just to be on the safe side, we’ll barricade the door from the upstairs down here to the basement to buy some more time, and keep our packs by our bunks and ready to go. At the first sign of trouble, we’ll wake up, grab our gear, and be back in the woods before anyone even knows we were here.”

“It’s tempting,” said Wiggins, “but I think it would be a mistake.”

Tex looked crestfallen, but she nodded. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Then Wiggins smiled. “But the mattresses aren’t nailed to the bunks. There’s nothing says we can’t carry a couple of them out into the woods a ways and set up our camp there. We can always drag ‘em back in the morning if we want to be stand-up citizens. We’ll need to come in and top up our water anyway.”

Tex grinned. “And use a real toilet as long as it’s available.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Wiggins said.

Hughes’ Residence

Pecan Grove

Oleander, Texas

Day 16, 4:00 p.m.

“This stinks, Mom. And it’s hot! How much more do we have to do?”

Laura Hughes wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of a gloved hand. She looked across the large garden to where her daughter Jana rested on her knees, her fifteen-year-old face contorted in anguish at the latest perceived injustice. Laura sighed.

“All right, just finish those two rows and we’ll call it a day. We’ve made a good dent and it’s not like the weeds won’t be here tomorrow.”

“TWO ROWS? REALLY? That’s not fair! I’ve done TWICE as much as Julie. Why does SHE get to stay inside just because she’s sunburned? You TOLD her to use sunblock. Now she gets to stay inside while I work like a SLAVE. And I did what you told me to. It’s not fair.”