Alone, Book 3: The Journey (22 page)

     “Please.”

     It wasn’t until Dave was out of the truck and several feet away when she allowed herself to laugh.

     And it felt good. She needed it.

Chapter 47

     They set out again an hour after sunset. At their present pace they’d connect with State Highway 114 in Jacksboro an hour before sunrise.

     Dave gingerly brought up the elephant that had been lingering in the room for two straight nights.

     “Let’s talk again about how you’re going to let me come to Lubbock with you to help me hunt down your son’s killer.”

     She sat silently for a moment and simply said, “Okay.”

     It caught Dave completely off guard. He’d expected an argument at best, a punch in the nose at worst.

     And his nose still hurt from the beating.

     He still had a lot of questions he wanted to ask. Like exactly who they were going after. How big an army the man had. Whether she was there to capture him and turn him over to the law, or to find an excuse to kill him.

     Dave hoped he hadn’t volunteered for a murder mission.

     If that was her intent, he would try his best to talk her out of it. He’d tell her if she shot the man down, she’d be no better than he was. And that her son and husband, looking down at her from heaven, wouldn’t be proud.

     “Can I ask about what we’re going to do in Lubbock, and how we’re going to do it?”

     “Dave, please. I don’t even know myself. I just know that Jesse Luna murdered my son. I think he was paid to do so by John Savage, but I can’t prove it. I have to talk to Luna first. I was searching for him around Blanco when someone told me he stole two of their horses and lit out.

     “I tried to track him, but lost him when he got onto the paved highway.

     “Then word got back to town that he made it to Lubbock, and wasn’t planning to come back.

     “That’s all I know. Anything more would be speculation.

     “As far as what we’ll do, you’ll find out the same time I do. As far as handguns, I know Savage took one of them off of you, and you never got it back. Do you have a backup?”

     “I have several back home, but I only brought the one. I have my AR-15.”

     “When you’re going into battle, you need both. And always take a spare handgun. If you have only one and you lose it or it jams, you’re screwed.

     “Very few bad guys will be courteous and wait for you while you try to unjam your weapon.”

     “I’ll remember that.”

     “Luckily, I’ve got your back. I’ve got a spare Glock in my bag. I’ll loan it to you, but I want it back someday.”

     “Deal.”

     “You know, I’ve been thinking. You have a skillet in the back, right?”

     “Yeah. If you’ve ever tried to cook fish on a spit without it breaking into pieces and falling into the fire, you’ll know a skillet is a much better option.”

     “You brought fishing gear too?”

     “Just a little bit of tackle and a single rod. It’s broken down under all that stuff in the back. I’m not the world’s biggest fan of fish, but Sarah and the girls love it. So we’ll probably eat a lot of it on the way back.”

     “You’d love fish more than life itself if you had my fish. You got any spices back there?”

     “Just salt and pepper.”

     “It doesn’t matter. Keep a sharp lookout our last hour on the road. If we cross any rivers or streams, let’s stop at the next truck after that. While you’re catching a couple of fish, I’ll gather some wild herbs and spices. Maybe I’ll get lucky and come across some wild onions or mushrooms.”

     Dave’s mouth watered. He never thought he’d crave fish, of all things. But after more than a year, he had to admit it sounded pretty good. And he’d grown very tired of dried beans and Vienna sausages.

     Fish for breakfast might not be so bad after all.

     “Sure. Okay, it sounds like a plan. But I hope we find a water source. I’d hate it if you got me all worked up for a great fish breakfast and then we had to eat granola instead.”

     “No problem. I always have a backup plan.”

     “A backup plan?”

     “Yep. This is possum country.”

     Luckily it was a very dark night and Dave was wearing the night vision goggles. It prevented Red from seeing him turn up his nose and shiver at the prospect of eating possum. It also denied her the opportunity to make fun of him.

     Dave needn’t have worried. An hour before the sun broke over the horizon, they drove across a bridge marked with a green sign.

     “San Sabe River.”

     They both smiled and looked at each other.

     Dave pulled in front of a white rig a quarter of a mile farther.

     “When you come back from gathering your herbs, remember to look for a white White.”

     “A what what?”

     “No. A white White.”

     “What are you talking about? A white white what?”

    “White is the manufacturer. It’s a company that made trucks. White is also the color.” It’s a white White.”

     He turned to her and noticed for the first time she was grinning ear to ear.

     “I know, dummy. I was just jerking your chain. But wouldn’t it be easier just to look for the big Walmart logo on the side of the trailer?”

     He felt stupid.

     “Yeah, probably…”

     “Hey, maybe we can do some shopping before we head to Lubbock.”

     After they settled, Dave set off south toward the river.

     Red headed for the thick woods directly east of the highway.

     “I’ll gather what I can, and be back within an hour. Good luck.”

     “Yep. You too. See you in a bit.”

     Dave had always enjoyed fishing more than eating his catch. In another place and time he fished for the sheer joy and relaxation it brought him, and he almost always released his catch.

     But not this day. This day he hoped to catch their fill and enough extra to enjoy after they woke up later.

     An hour and a half later he sauntered back toward the truck, expecting at any moment to smell wood burning from a small campfire.

     And almost certainly Red would be standing over it demanding to know what took him so long.

     But at least she couldn’t complain about the three pounds of river perch he’d landed.

     He didn’t start to get concerned until he was back at the truck. No smell of wood burning. No sign of Red or anyone else.

     And he started to worry.

Chapter 48

     He’d been had. Once again, just like in Blanco, he’d let his guard down and gotten sloppy.

     And once again he’d been blindsided.

     He was surprised at Red’s handwriting. It was very distinctive, with large loops and a neatness any handwriting teacher would have raved about.

     For some reason, Dave would have expected something less, perhaps a chicken scratch, from such a diamond in the rough.

Dear Dave,

     I hate deceitful people. I always have. I’ve also made it a point never to lie any more than I have to. Especially to my friends. And yes, I consider you a friend.

     I’m sorry to deceive you. But the fact is, going to Lubbock is something I need to do alone. I’ve lost too many people I’ve cared about over the last year. There’s been too much death already and it needs to stop.

     I refuse to take you into a situation where you may not survive.

     Especially since you have your own mission to go on and your own people to save. If you went to Lubbock with me and got yourself killed, there would be no one to save your wife and daughters.

     You owe your allegiance, and your support, to them. Not me.

     Please don’t waste your time trying to find me. You won’t.

     I’m going overland. Cross country, if you’re more familiar with that term. In my opinion, it’s safer than staying on the roads. You’ve seen for yourself that the highways are inhabited with their own brand of evil people.

     By staying in the woods I’ll have a steady source of food and water. I grew up camping and fishing and hunting with my father. He taught me how to survive on my own, in conditions that would kill most other people.

     I’ve done it before, in fact. Last summer I got so tired of watching people I cared about dying, I ran away and lived in the woods for four months.

     You don’t have to worry about me.

     Worry about yourself instead.

     You’re still several nights away from Kansas City.

     Instead of boring me to death with stories from your Marine Corps days, spend your time on the road trying to think of every possible scenario you’ll find when you get there.

     Then think of how you’ll approach each situation. And how to extricate yourself from each one as well. Come up with a plan, and always have a backup plan, and even a backup to your backup.

     I’ve kept the frequency numbers you wrote down for me. At some point in the future I’ll find a prepper with a working radio, and I’ll try to contact you. In the few days we had together, I feel I’ve come to know Sarah and your girls. I hope you find them alive and well, and are able to take them back to San Antonio.

     If I can ever raise you on the radio, I’d like to tell your girls that you never gave up on them. That you knew they were counting on you. That you were their super hero, and that they’re lucky to have you on their side. I’d tell Sarah the same thing, but I’m pretty sure she already knows.

     You’re a good man, Dave Speer. You make a lousy thief, and you sometimes do things that aren’t very bright.

     When you discover your car keys are missing, check under your pillow. You left them in the ignition. Duh…

     There’s something else under your pillow as well. You’ll need it.

     Good luck to you, my friend.

     -Red-

     Dave felt a lump form at the back of his throat.

     He’d known Red for such a short time, yet was so indebted to her.

     And he’d come to consider her a good and trusted friend.

     He lifted the pillow on the driver’s bunk to find her spare handgun, in its holster and with two extra magazines. Next to that were the keys to his Explorer, wrapped inside another piece of paper. Written on the paper, just in case he needed to be reminded of his folly, were the words:

                        
Ya big dummy!

     He’d miss her.    

Chapter 49

     Two nights later Dave was on Interstate 44, nearing the top of Texas.

     He’d switched over to the interstate when Highway 281 ran out in Wichita Falls. And as much as he hated the idea of spending any more time on the interstate highway system, it was the only passage into Oklahoma without having to go a hundred miles out of his way.

     And he’d wasted enough time already.

     He was trying to be smarter in his planning. He wanted to put Red’s advice to good use, by thinking ahead, and trying to imagine what obstacles might be in his path.

     And then to come up with viable solutions to get past such obstacles.

     It was during one such effort that he wondered whether FEMA or the National Guard had checkpoints set up at state borders.

     Logically speaking, if they were so concerned about restricting the public’s movements that they roadblocked cities, might they do the same elsewhere?

     Like maybe, for whatever reason, they wanted to keep Texans in Texas and Oklahomans in Oklahoma?