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

  Nodding in agreement, Demaris added, “We can show you a way around it, one that will keep you out of the most densely populated areas. I think if you tried to go through Jackson in that fancy rig you’ve got, you wouldn’t get all the way into town before someone killed you for your motorhome. They’d see you coming and block the road, or just shoot you. You wouldn’t stand a chance.”

  Quincy cleared his throat. “I think it would also be best to avoid the national forests. I have a feeling there will be people camped out there, just waiting for travelers to come by. Hunters are probably there, too, looking for wildlife to harvest. I bet anyone you ran into there would be armed.”

  “That’s true,” Demaris agreed. “All the people who bragged that they planned to go ‘lone wolf’ and ‘live off the land’ will be out there, probably learning the hard way that going solo isn’t all that great a plan.”

  “I wish you could come with me,” Helen pleaded. “I know my family and friends had supplies stored, and I could sure use some help with the driving, as well as someone riding shotgun, and I mean literally riding shotgun. I know if you helped me get home, you’d be welcomed.”

  Quincy shook his head, and Demaris gave Helen a sad smile. “That would be wonderful, but if our son and his family managed to get here, they wouldn’t know where to look for us. If they come, we need to be here.”

  “Yes, I can understand that. I don’t blame you, because I’d feel the same way,” Helen admitted. “But if they come, and you decide that it isn’t safe here, come to Kanichi Springs, all of you. I can guarantee a friendly welcome from my family.”

  The trio spent another couple of hours plotting a route for Helen’s trip, then Demaris excused herself to fix a light lunch. Helen offered to help, but Demaris told her to just relax and visit with Quincy.

  While Demaris bustled around in the kitchen, Quincy asked several questions about Ernie Miller. Helen explained that she had known him when she was in high school; he had visited Kanichi Springs often. After she married Kannakli McNeil, she got to know Ernie much better, since Ernie was a close friend of Kannakli’s father.

  After his brother and sister-in-law were killed at an airshow, Ernie was given guardianship of his young niece, Erin. He moved to Tulsa so she could stay in the same school and be near her friends. The poor child had enough to cope with, without leaving everything familiar behind.

  Once Erin started college, Ernie moved permanently to Kanichi Springs, and he had been a frequent visitor to their family home. Helen’s children and grandchildren had thought of Ernie as an adopted uncle. He had even been instrumental in getting their son, Tanner, a scholarship to OU. Ernie had been a benefactor of Choctaw youth organizations and taught survival classes for teens.

  Quincy told Helen that he had met Ernie at a symposium and had copies of all his books. His admiration of Ernie was obvious. The books had been a large part of the Marshalls becoming serious preppers.

  As they talked, Helen decided that she would leave some freeze-dried food with them before she got back on the road. They’d been very kind, and she knew that even with the fuel Quincy wanted to give her, she couldn’t make it all the way to Kanichi Springs in the motorhome. She’d have to abandon the RV and a large part of her supplies. She might as well make sure at least part of the surplus went to someone she liked and trusted.

  Damaris called them to come eat, and when they entered the kitchen, Helen saw that the table had three plates of what she thought of as “real food.”

  Each plate held a roast beef sandwich on thick slices of home-baked bread, with lettuce and tomatoes, and a big scoop of potato salad on the side.

  “Wow,” Helen muttered. “Where did all this come from?”

  Demaris looked pleased. “I baked the bread early this morning. The beef is some I canned in the spring, and the potatoes, lettuce, and tomatoes came from our garden. The eggs are from our chickens and the sliced pickles came from our preps. We’re on the last of our fresh vegetables, though, because the weather will get cold soon. We have a small greenhouse, and when the temperature gets low at night, we keep it heated by piping heat in from a small wood stove in the tack room. The back wall of the greenhouse is the south wall of the barn, but you can’t see it unless you go around on that side. I started seeds in pots almost two months ago, because I had a feeling we’d need to grow food all winter.”

  “I haven’t had bread in a couple of months. We were afraid the aromas from bread baking, or meat cooking, would draw unwanted attention in our neighborhood near Niceville. This looks delicious.”

  “Bread is something everyone took for granted, until there wasn’t any. Who knows when farmers will be able to grow wheat again? I’m so thankful we got out of the city and had time to stock up on buckets of hard wheat before things went crazy. I have a hand-powered grinder, too.”

  “That was smart. You’re blessed to be far enough out here that the smell of baking probably won’t draw unwanted attention.”

  Quincy reached out to grasp a hand of each of the two women, who then clasped each other’s hand. He said a beautiful, sincere prayer, praising God and thanking Him for Helen and asking for protection on her trip, and safety for their son and his family, wherever they were. Then he thanked God for the food and said “Amen.”

  Helen’s first bite of the sandwich sent waves of deliciousness across her taste buds. The bread was soft and flavorful, the meat savory and tender. After so many long weeks of living on MREs and freeze-dried fruits and veggies, she couldn’t help moaning with pleasure.

  Laughing at Helen’s expression, Demaris glanced at Quincy, then offered, “Helen, are you sure you have to leave right away? We’d love for you to stay, and I’m sure you could use the rest. It’s going to be difficult to drive with your wound.”

  Swallowing, Helen shook her head. “I really shouldn’t. I wanted to make it home before the worst of the winter weather caught me on the road. I’ll have to leave the RV when the fuel runs out, and I don’t want to be out in the middle of nowhere, on foot, when there’s a big snow or an ice storm.”

  Looking disappointed, but resigned, Demaris replied, “That’s understandable, but perhaps not the wisest thing to do. If you start bleeding again, you’ll have a hard time taking care of that wound by yourself. It’s your decision, of course, and if you decide to go, we’ll be praying for you every day.”

  Helen looked thoughtful. “You know, I do have to wrestle that RV around some. I’ve noticed that raising my arm even a little is painful. Driving would probably be torture. It’s not all that easy, even with power steering. Maybe I can stay a day or two and give it a chance to start healing.”

  “Oh, I wish you would. It’s been lonely around here. Quincy and I have always had folks around: members of the church, his students, his fellow professors and their wives. We’ve hardly seen another soul since the Collapse, other than a neighbor now and again. It’s so nice to have someone to visit with.”

  “Well, I just had a thought: this is the South, and winter probably won’t really hit until after Christmas, and it’ll be mild, most likely.” Helen paused, then nodded decisively. “It’s probably not going to matter anyway, and it’s a risk I’m willing to take. I may need to find shelter and hole up for a bit during the coldest days, but I think I’d rather do that than keep this wound from healing properly.”

  “I hope when you get home, you’ll be able to find a ham radio somewhere to let us know. We listen almost every night between 7:00 and 8:30, our time,” Quincy added.

  Helen smiled. “I’ll say, ‘Preacher Man, the crazy lady made it home.”’

  Quincy’s white teeth shone as he grinned. “And I’ll break our rule of not speaking on the radio. I’ll answer, ‘Crazy is a relative term.’ And when we turn the radio off for the night, we’ll praise God for the blessing of your help and friendship, and for getting you back to your family.”

  “I’ll never forget your kindness. The fuel will make it much more likely that I’ll ge
t home. At least, I think it will. I wonder what the date is. I’ve completely lost track of time.”

  Damaris chuckled. “We have a big wall calendar that had the next five years on the back page. We cross a day off every morning, and we’ll be able to do that for the rest of this year and the next five. Then, I guess, we’ll have to draw new ones every year, unless things get back to normal. I don’t know if that will ever happen, but I haven’t given up hope. I have a pocket calendar you can take with you if you want.”

  “So, what day is it?” Helen asked. “Maybe I need to start keeping better track, since I want to get home before the weather gets too cold.”

  Quincy sighed, then shook his head. “Time really does fly. Unless you make excellent progress, which you won’t once you’re on foot, you can’t possibly get there before winter weather sets in. It’s already the sixteenth of December, and you’ll be further north soon.”

  “I did some figuring. I think I have about twenty gallons of fuel left, if the gauge is accurate, so if you have forty gallons of diesel, and nothing goes wrong to keep me from driving as far as it will take me, I would be able to go a little over five hundred miles. Kanichi Springs, the town I’m headed for, is about six hundred miles from Meridian, if I added the miles up correctly. But I was looking at the most direct route, and I really need to stay off the main roads now. My luck has held so far, but something tells me that major highways are getting more dangerous all the time.

  “The motorhome only gets about nine miles to the gallon on the highway, but I haven’t been able to stay on highways all the time. It seems like a waste to use that much fuel for one person, but the RV is all I have. Sometimes I wish we’d brought my husband’s truck instead, but it’s too late now.”

  Quincy shook his head. “I’m fairly sure I only have about twenty-five or thirty gallons of fuel left. That’s two hundred and seventy miles at most, plus whatever you have in the tank now. I wish it was more.”

  “It is more,” Helen assured him. “It’s more than I had before, and I appreciate your generosity more than I can say.”

  Chapter Six

  December 18-21, North of Hattiesburg, Mississippi

  Helen wiped her mouth with the frayed cloth napkin and smiled gently at Demaris. “That was delicious. Fried eggs, toast, and bacon. I haven’t eaten so well in several weeks, except that yummy sandwich you made yesterday.”

  “I’m glad you enjoyed it. I have some eggs and a loaf of bread for you to take with you, too.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t accept! You’ve done so much for me already. I’m rested, my wound has been taken care of, and you’ve fed me food that didn’t come out of a package,” Helen protested.

  “I can make more bread, Helen. And our chickens are laying more eggs than the two of us can eat. You saved Quincy’s life. We could never do too much for you.”

  Helen looked at her friends, and finally nodded. “Okay, but I have some things to leave with you.”

  When Demaris opened her mouth to respond, Helen shook her head and spoke before the older woman could. “No, don’t argue. When I leave the RV behind, I won’t be able to carry all the supplies I have. I’ll be forced to leave them behind, and I’d rather you have them. It’s mostly freeze-dried foods in packets, some MREs, and drink mixes. I sorted out what I need most, and my pack is going to be heavy, but it’ll get lighter as I eat the food in it. If you won’t take the rest, it will be left for any wanderer to find.

  “I’ve also gone through Lewis’s clothes,” she continued. “I’m keeping his jacket, but there are several things that might be useful if your son gets here. Feel free to use his things in any way you need. Cut his shirts up to make children’s clothes if you need to. Lewis was a good man, and he would have liked you both. I think he’d want you to have his things. You’re my friends, and I insist.”

  Both Quincy and Demaris had tears in their eyes, but they shrugged, and offered to help Helen carry the surplus items she was giving them into the house. It took a few trips to get it all, and as he stood back to survey the food and clothing piled on the counters and table in the kitchen, Quincy could hardly believe what he was seeing.

  “Are you sure you can spare all this? You and your husband were certainly well prepared for your journey.”

  “Yes, we were, but with just me, it’s far too much. Lewis was a big man and had a big appetite. I planned for two, but…well, he didn’t eat anything but a little broth after he got sick. If your son and his family make it here, you’ll need this.”

  “But what will you do, Helen, if you run out of food before you get home?” Demaris asked, a worried expression on her face.

  Helen chuckled. “What I did almost every day of this trip so far. I’ll set traps and catch rabbits, or I’ll fish, if I stop near a stream. I know the plants that grow in the two states I’ve lived in, and while I’m not as familiar with foraging in Mississippi, I think I can find enough food that I won’t starve.”

  Quincy handed Helen the atlas and notebook she’d left on the coffee table. “Now remember there are old bridges across the Mississippi, and they might be better than trying to cross on a major bridge. There are also railroad bridges, and if you’re on foot, that would probably be a safer bet. Watch way out in front and on both sides for places ambushes might be set up….”

  Demaris put her hand on Quincy’s arm, and spoke softly. “Dear, you’re like a new mother, sending her child off to school for the first time. Helen made it this far without advice from us. She’s going to make it. I feel it in my heart.”

  Quincy gave them a sheepish grin. “You’re right, Demaris. Helen, please be careful, and don’t forget to let us know when you get home.”

  “Yes. Be careful, and know that we surely enjoyed having you visit, even if for a brief time. We’ll be praying for you every day until we hear that you’re there safely. May we pray with you before you go?” Demaris asked.

  “Of course. And I’ll be praying for you and for a happy reunion when the rest of your family gets here.”

  ~~~~

  Helen cautiously maneuvered the big motor home out of the yard and pulled out onto the dirt road. She silently prayed for rain, so the tire tracks would be washed away. She didn’t want to be responsible for leading any bad guys to the secluded home where her new friends lived.

  It seemed harder to focus on her driving and keep her eyes moving, searching for possible hazards. Two days of relaxation had caused her to let her guard down, and she needed to stay alert.

  She found the road that Quincy had suggested she take, noticing the huge tree stump he had said to look for. This part of Mississippi wasn’t as heavily populated as some she’d seen. The Marshalls really did know the area well; she could tell by the detailed descriptions of landmarks. It made her turns easier to find, but she had to take her eyes off the road occasionally to glance at her notes. She hardly needed the atlas for this because they had given her such good directions.

  She made decent time, considering the condition of the roads. Dirt and gravel country roads need frequent upkeep, but nobody had done any work on these for months, by the looks of things. As she crossed one place where the gravel had washed away, she thought the big RV was going to get stuck, but she kept her foot on the gas pedal and managed to keep it under control.

  Whew! I thought I was going to slide off into the ditch or get bogged down after less than three hours on the road. I know the backroads are less traveled, but I’m not so sure they’re safer. If I get stranded and have to take off on foot now, my chances are slim, and Quincy’s gift of diesel will be wasted.

  The incident helped her in one way, though: it got her wide awake and alert, plus reminded her to watch out for hazards like ruts and washes. She kept going, not stopping for lunch. Instead, she nibbled on some trail mix and drank some water.

  When she noticed that the sun was getting low in the west, she started watching for a place to spend the night. It had evidently rained here, because unlike the area arou
nd the Marshall’s house, the roads were muddy. She was afraid that if she got off in the wrong place, she might sink the motorhome up to its axles.

  Her notes said that she was near a narrow, paved road. That might be a better place to look for a campsite. When she saw the stop sign, and realized it was the road she was looking for, she slowed, but made the turn without coming to a complete stop.

  I’m getting bad habits lately, because I know there are no cops sitting there waiting to give me a ticket. And I’m feeling lonely and alone. Lord, please help me find my way back to my people, if it’s your will.

  She was tired. Fighting the wheel of the big vehicle for several hours, struggling to avoid ruts and mud, and only eating a snack for lunch had taken a toll. She felt her aloneness even more now, after the friendly companionship of Quincy and Demaris. She knew she was getting closer to the river, and that particular crossing was the one that had caused her the most anxiety ever since she and Lewis had decided to leave Florida. She dreaded getting to the Mississippi River.

  Tonight, I’m not going to try to trap anything. I still have more food than I could possibly carry, so I might as well eat some of it and try to get some rest. I’m getting closer to the day I wish I could avoid. If I make it across that river, it’ll be a miracle, a real miracle, because I know I can’t do it without God’s help.

  Finally, she spotted a gravel road or drive. It was hard to tell which it was, but it looked solid, and curved around behind some trees. The middle of the road had grass and weeds that were at least two feet tall, indicating that it hadn’t been travelled much in recent weeks. Hoping there wasn’t an occupied house at the end of it, she turned in, and as slowly as possible, guided the RV around behind the trees. There was a lot of undergrowth that made the RV invisible from the road.