Kiamichi Reunion: Book Five of the Kiamichi Survival Series Read online

  Kiamichi

  Reunion

  Book Five

  of the

  Kiamichi Survival Series

  C.A. Henry

  Kiamichi Reunion

  Book Five of the Kiamichi Survival Series

  Copyright 2020 by Carol Henry Madding

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons living or dead, business, companies, organizations, agencies, or locales is strictly coincidental.

  Dedication

  To Kay,

  my long-lost cousin.

  I’m so glad we finally found each other.

  Acknowledgments

  Cover Artist

  Hristo Argirov Kovatliev

  Technical Guru

  Scott Kenney

  Beta Readers

  Kimberly Slayton

  Jinnie Lettkeman

  Kay Hancock

  Jennifer Murray

  Jack Madding

  Prologue

  November 24 – Florida Panhandle

  Six months after the Collapse

  Deep in the woods near the northwest corner of Escambia County, in an almost-new motorhome, an emaciated, sickly man did his best to sit up. His wife rushed to his side, helping him shift his weight, then placing a couple of extra pillows behind his back. He closed his eyes as though doing so would let him regain his ability to breathe.

  “Please go,” he begged in a husky whisper. “I’m not going to get well and we both know it. The pain is unbearable, and there’s no use in your waiting around until I’m gone. Go, before things get any worse.”

  Helen stared into his eyes and shook her head. “I’m not going to leave you here by yourself. How would you eat? How would you get up at all? You need the motorhome for shelter, and I’m not willing to set out on foot without you. You can’t seriously ask me to abandon you. I won’t leave you here to suffer alone.”

  They’d been married for ten years, having met at a convention where Helen had presented a workshop on Choctaw culture. Their love wasn’t a grand passion; instead, it was a comfortable, cozy sort of friendship, with a little romance thrown in. It was security, companionship, and fun, and they loved each other as late-life partners often do, with fondness and caring, but not the desperate passion of the young. It was more than many people had at their age, and Helen thanked God for the blessing of having Lewis Vaughn in her life.

  She’d already experienced what she knew was her one great love. She believed that when one had loved totally, and been loved in return, that was it. To her, Kannakli McNeil had been her true heart, her soul love, but he had died, and Lewis Vaughn had helped her learn to enjoy life again. She owed him her loyalty for that.

  When they first heard about the oil embargo, Lewis had told her that he doubted it would last very long. He convinced her that they should remain in place, hunkering down in their small home near Niceville. They had plenty of food and knew several ways to purify water, and the climate was mild enough that they wouldn’t freeze during the winter.

  As weeks passed, they heard about terrorist attacks on the American infrastructure, about power outages all over the country, and they began to realize that Lewis had been wrong in assuming that things would soon return to normal. Although they had a few solar panels on the roof to provide lights, the thought of the coming fall hurricane season was frightening.

  Then the radios and television went silent. Without forecasts to warn them of approaching trouble, they knew their situation could become even more dangerous at any time.

  Besides the threat of storms, they’d seen homes burning in the distance, and knew that probably meant gangs of looters scouring neighborhoods for food and supplies. It was only a matter of time before their home became a target, and although they were armed and had plenty of ammunition, with only two people, the house was indefensible.

  Helen wanted to kick herself for not doing what her father-in-law and her friend Ernie had urged her to do: get a survival group together and make plans for any disasters that might happen. She should have done it long ago, but she’d foolishly dismissed the idea, citing her belief that it would be hard to identify any preppers without revealing that they, themselves, were preppers. She let her desire for secrecy, her basic mistrust of others, to take precedence over the security of being part of a group, and now she regretted it.

  She thought of people from church, ladies from her gardening club, and a few of the friends Lewis hunted and fished with. She could have put out a few feelers, cautiously tried to see where some of them stood on preparedness and made the effort to start a group. Instead, she had procrastinated, and then it was too late.

  She and Lewis had sat in the living room late one evening, talking about what they should do. The room was dark; they figured that lights would signal to marauding gangs that someone lived there who had power, and that would certainly make them a target. Lewis wanted to go alone to check the houses of their friends. If he found any who were still at home, he’d invite them to join together for survival.

  Helen was sure it was too late for that. If any couples they knew were still at home, that meant they were also preppers and probably had a group already.

  She wanted to set out on a trek across the South, traveling backroads and stopping only in secluded areas, far from towns. They had just purchased a luxurious, slightly- used motorhome a few weeks before the Collapse, and the tank was almost full of diesel, so it seemed to her that the logical thing was to go to her family in Oklahoma. They were both aware that the trip would be hazardous, but so were all the alternatives they could imagine.

  “The possible benefit of going out on foot to look for our friends is not worth the risk of leaving the relative safety of the house,” she declared. “If you go out and run into a gang of bad guys, I’ll be alone and won’t even know what happened to you. We have to stay together.”

  Lewis reminded her of his military experience and insisted that he would be careful. They finally agreed that he would check the house of his fishing buddy, Gary, and see if there was anyone still there. Gary lived just about a mile away, and Lewis promised that if there was nobody there, he’d come straight back and give up on the idea of gathering a group.

  If Lewis failed in his effort to find others to work with, their plan was to take the motorhome and go as far as they could with the fuel they had.

  The almost-new motorhome had a “toy-hauler” space. They’d wanted to buy a couple of four-wheelers and travel to places where they could ride, camp, and enjoy the outdoors, but hadn’t gotten the chance to even look at ATVs. All they had was the motorhome. When they ran out of fuel, they’d decide whether to set out on foot, or stay put wherever they were until spring.

  Lewis woke Helen deep in the night. He’d taken the first shift on guard duty, and she would keep watch while he slipped out to check on Gary and his wife, Vickie. Dressed in leafy wear, Lewis used three colors of camo face paint, even dabbing a bit on each of his ears.

  “Why don’t you wear a mask? Wouldn’t that be easier?” Helen questioned.

  “I need to be able to see clearly in all directions. Masks tend to reduce peripheral vision a little.” He smeared a bit more of the brown paint across his nose. “I’m ready. I’m going to sneak out the back. Got my .45 and two extra mags, and I’m taking my deer rifle, too. I’ll be back as soon as I find out something. Don’t forget to check every side of the house, okay”?

  “Lewis, really? I’ve been standing guard for the same number of nights as you.
I think I’ve got it down by now.”

  “Sorry. I just worry, and sometimes it comes out my mouth.” He gave her a gentle smile. “I hope I find us some help, but if not, when can we be ready to go?”

  “Right away. I’ve been moving food into the RV ever since we started talking about leaving. I’m so glad we have a garage for that thing, and it’s connected to the house. Otherwise, I know someone would have seen me carrying bags and boxes out.”

  “I’ll be back soon. Lock the deadbolt behind me.”

  Lewis melted into the darkness as Helen stared after him. How does he do that? she wondered. Checking the lock, she thought of how, even at the age of sixty-two, Lewis was still active and still had many of the skills he’d learned in the Army during Desert Storm. Father, please guide Lewis and keep Your hand of protection over him. Bring him back safely, please. Amen. She shook off her worry for him; he was in God’s hands, and there was nothing she could do but wait.

  ~~~

  Carefully making his way north, Lewis was able to stay off the narrow road. He knew better than to make himself a silhouette against any light-colored houses, and to stay out of the patches of moonlight scattered throughout the neighborhood. He moved fast when he moved, but he stopped and planned the next sprint carefully before moving again.

  He heard voices once, men’s voices, and one of them sounded angry. Then he heard the sounds of fists and falling bodies, the grunts of men wrestling on the ground. He froze, waiting and listening in an attempt to pinpoint the location of the men. There were several, from the sounds he heard, and he needed to know where they were.

  The fight ended at last and the talking resumed, with the voices apparently getting closer. Lewis slowly slid down behind a thick bush and remained motionless as figures came into sight. He couldn’t see how many for sure, but he figured there were at least six, and a few were congratulating one of the others, while the rest were silent.

  “Man, you let him have it, Bobby! He had it coming, acting like he was all high and mighty.” One of the dark shapes patted another one on the back.

  A grumbling came from the rear of the pack. “You didn’t have to kill him. We don’t have enough men anyway, and he was good at finding stuff we can use.”

  The man in front whipped around suddenly, and growled, “Nobody asked you, Pickens. I was tired of being bossed around and I’m just as smart as he was. Smarter, ‘cause I’m alive and he ain’t. You wanna try your luck? I bet he’d appreciate the company in hell.”

  The self-appointed leader stood, legs apart and fists ready, staring at the man who had complained.

  “Nah. I got no beef with you.” The voice was soft, but clear.

  “Then let’s go. I got an idea of a couple of houses we ain’t hit yet. One of ‘em looks prosperous, if you get my drift.” The new leader turned and stalked away into the darkness, followed by the other shadowy figures.

  Lewis stayed in his hiding place, watching the men walk away, right down the middle of the road. Those guys must think there’s plenty of safety in numbers. They aren’t even trying to be stealthy. He saw them turn east, and took a deep, satisfying breath. It’s my lucky night. I’m going north and then a little west. Hopefully, I won’t see those guys again.

  He made it to Gary’s house without further incident and slithered over the privacy fence into the back yard. Taking a careful look around, he spotted something that made his heart sink: the moon clearly showed that the sliding patio door was wide open. He knew that Gary would never be so careless. Trying to get mentally prepared for what he would find, he crept along the fence until he reached the corner of the house, then waited for a long time before darting across the patio and through the open door. As soon as he was in, he sidestepped, placing his back against the wall and holding his .45 at the ready. Letting his eyes adjust to the gloom, he searched the room for his friends and listened for the slightest sound that would indicate he wasn’t alone.

  The quiet was profound. After several minutes, Lewis moved around to his left, toward the bedrooms. His nose told him, before he saw any sign of his friends, that death had visited the house. He grasped the doorknob, turning it slowly and pushing just enough to open it a crack. This door, he knew, led to the master bedroom. He’d helped Gary paint it just last year, when Vickie decided she wanted to redecorate.

  No sounds, no movements, but the stench was unmistakable. Lewis pushed the door further back and stepped into the room. A flashlight on the dresser shone dimly, the batteries almost dead, and Lewis had just enough light to see Vickie’s nude body sprawled on the bed. She’d been brutally attacked: beaten, raped, and cut repeatedly. Gary lay on the floor, his throat slit. As Lewis looked closer, he saw that Gary’s eyes had been gouged and he’d been tortured, as well.

  What kind of psycho does something like this? Stealing food is one thing, but… mutilation? This is so sick. His stomach heaving, Lewis pulled Gary’s robe off a hook in the bathroom and covered Vickie’s body after pushing her legs back together and gently closing her eyes. It wasn’t much, but it was the only thing he could do for his friends.

  Chapter One

  November 24, the Vaughn home

  “We should take some extra blankets and warm clothes,” Helen suggested. “It gets a lot colder in Oklahoma than it does here, and winter will arrive long before we get there.”

  “I don’t really have a winter coat. Just light jackets. Maybe you can cut up the camo quilt my aunt gave us for

  Christmas and make it into a coat for me.”

  “Yeah, I can do that, but I’ll have to stitch it by hand. It won’t be a professional job, but it’ll be warm. Good idea. Where’s that little blue bag I had earlier?”

  “On the dresser, right where you put it,” Lewis grinned, handing her the bag. “What’s in there, anyway?”

  “My jewelry. I have several nice pieces and I’m not leaving them behind for looters to steal. Besides, we may need them for bartering or to pay tolls. Ernie always said that any gold, silver, or jewels could come in handy. And there’s more silver than you know about, dear.”

  Lewis gave her a sharp look, then smiled. “You bought junk silver, didn’t you? I know I was against doing that, but I’m glad you did it anyway.”

  “That’s one of your finest characteristics. You can admit it when you’re wrong,” she grinned. “I took most of my savings out of the bank about six months before the embargo, and bought silver coins with the money, but never so much at one place or at one time that it would draw attention. I’ve already hidden it in various places in the motorhome. The only problem will be when we run out of fuel: that silver is really heavy. I’m not at all sure we can take much of it with us.”

  “We’ll worry about that when the time comes. Maybe we can hide some of it, bury it or whatever, and come back after it someday.”

  “Maybe. I’m really glad we have extra cans of fuel and room for them in the back of the RV. I can’t help but wonder, though, if we’d be better off if we’d bought those four-wheelers. We could go places on those we could never get through with the RV.”

  Lewis nodded. “Yes, we could, but we couldn’t take as many supplies with us. Four-wheelers are also noisy, so we’d draw attention, plus they don’t offer any shelter or a place to sleep. They don’t have a bathroom, either. If we tried to get to Kanichi Springs on four-wheelers, we’d get soaked every time it rained. I think we’ll be better off with the motorhome, at least until we can’t go any further in it. That’s when we’ll need other transportation, and a couple of quads would be better than walking, at least until the fuel ran out for them, too.”

  “You’re right. I just need to face the fact that we’re going to be on foot sooner or later, no matter what. Don’t let me forget to put our hiking boots in. And hand me those towels, please.”

  They finally completed the sorting, packing, and loading in the darkest hours of the night. Lewis stepped out into the blackness and listened intently. He heard sounds in the distance and sa
w an orange glow in the east, but they were going to head west, and all was silent and deeply shadowed in that direction. He went through the house to the huge garage and disengaged the automatic overhead door opener, which was the only thing besides lights connected to the solar batteries. It would be noisy to use, and Lewis knew it would be heard all over the quiet neighborhood. He raised the door manually and very slowly, keeping the sound as low as possible.

  Helen started the RV, and as soon as she could back out without hitting the rising door, moved quickly into the street. Lewis darted around and jumped in, leaving the garage open. There was no need to lock up with marauders in the area. They’d just break in anyway. It was better to leave as fast as they could, than to take the time to close that big door.

  Helen drove to the end of their street, then turned north. She kept the RV’s speed to a sensible rate, not wanting to squeal the tires or rev the engine. Going more slowly was quieter, and the less notice anyone took of them, the better.

  Lewis held a rifle and was packing three handguns in case anyone tried to stop them, but the only sign of people was a glimpse of a shadow behind a curtain, in the home of a family they knew only slightly. As they reached the outskirts of their small community, he relaxed a little.

  Helen had known somehow that they would have to leave eventually, and without Lewis’s knowledge, she’d been busy in recent months preparing a plan. Their proposed route was marked in the atlas with a pink highlighter, and alternate routes were marked in other colors. She’d had the foresight not only to buy silver, but to purchase additional cases of freeze-dried foods, which had the advantage of being lightweight. She stored those in the motorhome, in the storage compartments under beds and seats.

  They’d both been preppers even before they married, but not to the “end-of-the-world-as-we-know-it” extreme. Helen had moved beyond preparing for short-term crises at some point, perhaps when she decided to buy silver with her savings. Even before the attacks that resulted in an oil embargo, she’d shifted into high gear, into the mindset of a doomsday prepper. It had happened without her even realizing it, but she’d become obsessed with the idea. Every time she walked around in a store, she was subconsciously looking for things that would be useful in a grid-down, without-rule-of-law scenario.