Kiamichi Reunion: Book Five of the Kiamichi Survival Series Page 2

  That didn’t mean that they were totally prepared for the Collapse. There hadn’t been time to do everything she wanted to do. She’d taken a few martial arts classes, but hadn’t stocked up on seeds and canning jars. She’d bought emergency food and water filters, but neglected to buy a ham radio unit for the motorhome. Neither of them was licensed, but after society fell apart, that no longer mattered. It would have been so useful to have the capability to contact her family, but she knew that it was too late to spend time in regrets at this point.

  Chapter Two

  November 27 - December 8, Florida-Alabama line

  Lewis became ill before they’d even gotten to the Alabama state line, so Helen had turned off the main roads and followed a track into the forest, seeking a place of refuge until Lewis recovered.

  As the days passed, he had only gotten worse. With no doctors anywhere around, he’d decided on his own that he must have appendicitis or something equally serious. He vomited a lot at first, then the pain became sharper. He speculated about all the possible causes, but there was no way to know for sure. He realized, if Helen didn’t, that without immediate medical care, he was going to die.

  Helen tried to change his mind, not wanting him to give up hope, but it seemed that whatever he had, it was advancing at a fast pace. Pain kept him awake each night until exhaustion took over, but he cried out sometimes, screaming in agony even in his slumber. He’d become weaker and thinner every day, and he knew he wasn’t going to make it, but couldn’t convince Helen to save herself while there was still a chance to get back to her family in Oklahoma.

  He looked out the window at the fading light. “It’s almost dark. You’d better check your snares before it gets any later. I hope you got a rabbit. A little broth sounds like something I could keep down.” His gaze remained fixed on the scene outside.

  “I’ll do that. I’ll be right back, and I’ll make a little soup with some of the dehydrated carrots and onions, maybe some peas, too. Will you try to eat a little of that?”

  “We’ll see. You’d better go,” he murmured flatly.

  Helen’s eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion, but he turned his head and smiled at her, so she relaxed. “Be safe, dear,” he whispered.

  Helen nodded, reaching for her bow and quiver. They had a substantial arsenal of firearms, but if she needed to defend herself, she’d rather be quiet about it. Drawing attention to their location with gunshots just might be a lousy idea. She clipped her knife onto her belt and left the motorhome as silently as possible.

  She had three snares set, each of them in a different location, but not terribly far from each other or their camp. The RV sat in a tiny clearing where she knew turning around would be a challenge, but the cover was good, and the foliage was thick enough that she could have a small cooking fire in a Dakota hole and not worry too much about the faint glow being seen by anyone roaming through the area.

  She only lit a fire when she could dig a hole for it, and only after dark, knowing that while the flames wouldn’t be visible in sunlight, smoke rising above the trees would be a beacon advertising their presence. Thank you, Lord, for all the lessons I learned from my parents and from Julia and Talako. The old ways and Ernie’s knowledge about modern survival have kept us alive so far. Your guidance and those blessings are our hope for getting through this. Helen believed with all her heart that God had provided those lessons for a reason, and she planned to use everything she knew to help Lewis and herself.

  The first snare was empty, but the second had caught a plump rabbit. She gave a prayer of thanks and dispatched the creature as humanely as possible, by simply snapping its neck. The third snare had caught another rabbit. Helen smiled at the bounty. There would be plenty of food for today and tomorrow.

  The air was cool and held the smell of rain. As she returned to their camp, the breeze picked up considerably, signaling that a storm might be on the way. Helen hurried to skin the bunnies, washing them in water she’d filtered from the last rain. Catching rainwater in buckets had been Lewis’s idea, and it would work as long as the weather cooperated, but this time of year, strong storms were also prevalent. She wished there was still television or radio, so she could get a forecast and know if there was any danger expected from the skies.

  After cleaning out the ashes and debris from her previous fires in the Dakota hole, Helen started a small blaze, and put the rabbits in a pot with a little salt and pepper, as well as the vegetables she’d promised Lewis.

  Growing up in Kanichi Springs, Helen had known Ernie Miller for many years, and prepping for possible disasters was as natural for her as eating and sleeping. That was one of the first things that she and Lewis had discovered they had in common. They’d bought a home freeze-dry unit, and preserved food from their organic garden every year.

  Once the food was simmering, she stood, wiped her hands on her soiled jeans, and decided to check on Lewis. Their meal would be ready soon, but there was time to help him to the tiny bathroom in the motorhome. He’d need to relieve himself and wash his hands before trying to eat a bit.

  A light sprinkle of rain touched her skin as she climbed the steps and opened the door, calling, “It’s me. How are you feeling?”

  There was silence. Lewis lay there, covered with a sheet, and looking very much like he slept. On the pillow was a folded piece of paper. She stared, unable to move. Somehow, she knew that Lewis wasn’t asleep. He was too still, and it finally dawned on her that the stillness was because that he wasn’t breathing. A deeply quiet sadness washed through her as she reached for the paper. Unfolding it, she began to read.

  My dear Helen,

  I’m sorry, but I did what had to be done. I care too much for you to tie you to me when I know I’ll just become more and more of a burden to you. You won’t leave me, so I’ll leave you, but always remember that I’m also leaving the pain, which has been much worse the past two days. I find that I’m not strong enough to take the agony I know is coming. I only hope that you and God will forgive me.

  I didn’t want to make any noise or a mess, so I cut my carotid artery after placing an old towel beneath my neck. I hope it was enough to keep from spoiling the sheets.

  Get away from this place soon. I have a bad feeling about it that I can’t explain.

  I loved you so much more than you realized.

  Lewis

  Chapter Three

  December 15, Alabama

  Helen’s eyes narrowed to a squint as she drove into the sun. It had been a long, exhausting few days since she left Florida, but she was determined to put as many miles on the motorhome as humanly possible before she ran out of diesel. She still had the three cans she’d started with, but when they were gone, she’d have to abandon her home-on-wheels and finish the trip on foot.

  Every evening, she searched for a place to park the RV where it was at least inconspicuous, if not completely out of sight. It was past time for her to find tonight’s spot, but she really hadn’t seen anything that looked promising.

  It had taken her three days to get ready to leave their campsite in Florida. She had used her small shovel to dig a grave for Lewis. It wasn’t nearly deep enough, but it was the best she could manage. Lewis had once been muscular and athletic, but the illness had ravished his body, leaving him emaciated. She estimated that he’d lost at least twenty pounds. Still, she couldn’t lift him, so she stitched him into the blood-stained sheets and half-dragged him outside. The towel had held only a portion of the blood, which had sprayed onto the bedding and the wall, and she couldn’t bear the idea of sleeping with that reminder of his sacrifice.

  She couldn’t find nearly enough rocks to cover the grave, so she gathered as many fallen limbs as she could in an attempt to keep animals away from Lewis. She knew her efforts were much less than he deserved, yet she couldn’t provide a proper funeral or burial. Instead, she did her best, then read some of his favorite scriptures aloud and said a prayer of thanksgiving for his life.

  The camp was
a good place, she thought, then remembered Lewis’s warning. He’d had these “feelings” before, and they almost always turned out to be correct, so she reluctantly began preparing to continue the trip west. The rain continued, sometimes falling softly, and sometimes coming down in a torrent, along with gusting, howling winds. She hoped that the RV wouldn’t get stuck in the soft earth when she tried to turn it around.

  She’d always heard that in societal collapse situations, roads were for people with a death wish. She knew she should stay off the roads completely, but unless she abandoned the motorhome, she needed to drive on some type of hard surface.

  Bridges were another hazard she dreaded, but they would be unavoidable in the big vehicle. Ernie had always insisted that bridges were bottlenecks, making them perfect places to set up ambushes or roadblocks. Helen knew that if she came up to a bridge and there was trouble, turning the RV around and getting away from the danger would be nearly impossible. Alone, she couldn’t drive the behemoth and defend herself at the same time. That presented an almost insurmountable problem. Her only hope was to stay away from populated areas when possible and keep driving.

  Her mind churned over her decision to stay on back roads rather than stick to state highways and interstates. There were no guarantees either way, she decided. Country roads could end without much warning, and most of them didn’t have road signs or river crossings. Highways might have roadblocks or a myriad of other dangers she couldn’t foresee. It was a guessing game, and she had no idea if her choices were right.

  The old atlas she had was so outdated that some of the roads weren’t even shown. It did come in handy, though, for locating bridges and rivers. She needed to go northwest to get to Kanichi Springs, and the atlas had been useful in helping her find routes with fewer towns and bridges.

  She estimated that there was only enough fuel left for about another two days of travel. Having that much flammable liquid in the motorhome had made her nervous, but the prospect of not having any at all was much worse, and there’d been no other option than to haul it that way. She’d have to leave her little home behind soon, and she dreaded setting out on foot. Every evening, she’d spent her time sorting through food and other supplies, trying to decide what to take with her. She’d packed and repacked her bag several times, aiming for the best combination of survival basics.

  As the motorhome topped a slight rise, Helen noticed a car that had obviously hit a tree at high speed. She slowed and pulled over onto the shoulder, then realized there was no need to get off the road. She hadn’t seen another moving vehicle of any kind since leaving home.

  She got up and looked out the side and back windows, carefully watching for movement. She waited for several minutes, then shoved two more handguns into her belt, adding to the one she always carried, even while she drove. She picked up her rifle, too, and stepped down from the RV, listening intently for sounds of human presence.

  She waited. There was no movement in or near the wrecked car. She reached out with all her senses, seeking that feeling she got when someone was staring at her. All she felt was alone.

  Taking one last look around, Helen strode over to the car, noting that it was a silver Ford Focus hatchback. She glanced in; a man sat slumped against the steering wheel, dried blood marring his face and his eyes fixed sightlessly on the floor. Across from him, she could see the crumpled body of a boy who looked to be about twelve. He bore a strong resemblance to the man, but his head sat on his neck at an impossible angle.

  In the back seat, a little girl hung lifelessly in a seatbelt designed for larger people. She looked four or five years old, and although there were no visible wounds, she was also dead. Helen sighed, frowning at the loss of those three lives. She couldn’t tell why they’d gone off the road; all four tires looked fine, so it hadn’t been a blowout. There were no bullet holes in the car, and no signs that their belongings had been scavenged. Maybe a deer had run out in front of them, and the man had swerved in an effort to miss it.

  Backpacks filled the luggage area in the back. Helen hated the thought of taking anything from them, but she also knew that these three people didn’t need those packs anymore. She reached through the broken driver’s window and pressed the unlock button, then moved around to open the back of the little car.

  One of the packs was large and very heavy. It was the type that serious hikers used. She noticed that it was fairly new and was a camo pattern that Mossy Oak had introduced shortly before the Collapse. The second pack was also camo, but much smaller. The last one made her smile sadly. The little girl’s pack was just the right size for a child in pre-school or kindergarten, and it was constructed of a fabric Realtree had made famous: pink camo.

  Swiping at the tear that sneaked down her face, Helen took another moment to check her surroundings. She couldn’t afford to let herself become distracted enough to have someone slip up behind her. She took a deep breath, then reached in and pulled the largest pack out.

  It was really too heavy for her to carry, so she dragged it to the motorhome, up the steps, and onto the bed. As tempting as it was to dump the contents immediately and go through it all, she needed to check the other packs and move to a more secure location before the sun dropped any lower.

  Since the other packs were smaller, she grabbed them both and darted back to the RV, dropping the packs beside the big one, and settling herself into the driver’s seat again.

  There was nothing she could do for the family in the car. Digging a grave for three people with her small camp shovel would take too long and leave her motorhome unattended, and herself out in the open and vulnerable. She glanced back at the car, whispering a quiet prayer, asking God to forgive her if it had been wrong to take the packs.

  ~~~

  Helen caught sight of a slight opening in the trees about three miles from the car wreck. It looked as though it had once been a driveway or a track into a hunting lease, so she slowed to a crawl and eased the motorhome through the high weeds and away from the road. The path was only discernible by its lack of any trees larger than a sapling. If she hadn’t been looking for just such a track, she never would have noticed it. The path curved, winding back into the woods, and Helen followed it until she spotted a small meadow. A shed sat at the edge of the clearing, the roof sagging dangerously in the middle and all the windows broken. She turned the RV around so that it faced in the direction she had come from, then turned the engine off.

  What should I do first? she asked herself. I need to go through those packs and see if there’s anything I can use, but I should probably reconnoiter a little, see if there’s anyone around. I’ll make a circuit of the clearing and check out that shed. I doubt there’d be anyone inside, but it’s safer to be sure.

  It’s too late to put out snares and I’m too tired anyway. I guess I can afford to eat some of our stores instead, since there’s only me now.

  The reality of Lewis’s death hadn’t hit yet, and Helen knew that when it did, she would probably fall apart. He’d been a good man, a kind man, but also protective, strong, and well-trained by the military. How she would be able to make it all the way to Kanichi Springs alone was something that she feared would overwhelm her if she thought about it too much. She had to stay alert, focused, and vigilant, but she missed him.

  When it finally soaked in, she knew it would hit hard, and right now, she didn’t have the energy to spare for grieving and sorrow. She had to keep moving. She had to make progress toward her goal. It’s what he’d wanted for her; it was why he had taken his own life. She would honor his final wishes with every ounce of effort she could manage.

  Helen forced herself to eat, even though her appetite was negligible. Sitting in silence, she thought about how alone she really was. She had nobody to talk to, no one to help her think things through or make plans. There was nobody to share the driving, the danger, the work of survival.

  This was as lonely as a person could get: no help available, no way to replenish her supplies, and she ref
used to even consider the possibility of an accident, an illness, or of getting lost. The only help she had, the only strength she could rely on, was her faith that God had a plan, and He would help her if it was His will to let her see her children and grandchildren again.

  Once she’d finished her meal, Helen cleaned up the tiny kitchen. The mess she’d made was so small, it took only a couple of minutes. She was exhausted, but it was too early to try to sleep. The solar panel on top of the motorhome had surely recharged the batteries enough that she could watch TV, but there was nothing being broadcast anymore. Besides, the flickering light from the TV might draw attention if there was anyone sneaking around in the forest.

  She didn’t want to turn on any lights for the same reason. The sun was down, but it wasn’t completely dark out there yet. She wished that there was one room in the motorhome that didn’t have a window, so she could work a crossword puzzle or something. Lewis had tucked a few puzzle books into the pockets on the back of the seats.

  Helen slipped out the door, armed with her rifle and sidearm, plus her camp shovel. She found a spot a little way off, where the trees and bushes formed some cover, and dug a small hole. She relieved herself, then scooped the dirt back into the hole. No need to fill up the black water tank in the motorhome when she had the great outdoors available.