Landfall: Islands in the Aftermath (The Pulse Series Book 4) (29 page)

“It must have been Tommy or David then, since they’re usually on patrol this time of day. But what would they be shooting at?”

“That’s what I’m wondering. The way the shots were spaced it sounded like someone hunting. Like maybe they missed or wounded whatever it was with the first shot and then followed up with that second and third one.”
 

“Maybe one of them saw a deer too?” Corey suggested.
 

“Maybe, but I kind of doubt it. I guess it could have been a wild dog or some other varmint though.”
 

Mitch knew that if a deer did
appear while the others were occupied with something else, any one of them would take advantage of the opportunity to put meat on the table. But he didn’t think that was likely, as there had been plenty of hunting pressure around the farm in the last few months, as well as a lot of other activity like gathering firewood in the nearby forest. Because of this, he did almost all of his hunting farther afield now, deep in the bottomlands here along the creek and beyond, and he didn’t expect that situation to change.
 

Whatever the target, he was sure the rifle shots were fired for good reason if anyone from their group fired them. While they had conducted some practice and defensive drill sessions early on for the benefit of those among them with less shooting experience, wasting rifle ammunition was out of the question now. There was simply no telling how long they were going to have to make what they had last and no way of knowing when they were going to need a lot of it in a hurry to defend their lives and property. Hunting with the bow and arrow helped conserve what ammo they had for their various firearms. Fortunately, the materials for making more bows and arrows were readily available in the woods. Mitch at least, had the skills to utilize them, and he planned to teach the others over time.
 

Mitch had finally convinced the rest of them that thinking long-term was their best option. No one had any real answers about the bigger picture regarding their situation, but he could envision a scenario where the blackout lasted so long there wouldn’t be other options. Aside from the issue of resupply, using bows rather than firearms enabled them to keep a lower profile. Rifle shots could be heard from a great distance, especially now that there were no other background sounds like faraway traffic or manmade machinery. Out here, any sound of human activity might attract the attention of strangers passing through the area. The last thing any of them wanted was to draw outsiders to the farm. Recent experience had shown that danger could approach not only from the gravel road that skirted the front of the property but also by way of Black Creek. The creek was a natural travel corridor through the wild national forest lands in back of the Henley’s 600-acre property. It could be followed on foot with some difficulty or easily navigated by canoe, and while useful to Mitch and everyone else living on the farm, it was potentially a backdoor standing wide open to unwanted guests.

Mitch and his two friends were within sight of Black Creek even as they heard the shots. The wounded buck’s blood trail led upstream, even deeper into the forest and farther from the Henley farm. For a moment, Mitch considered whether they should turn back and head for home. But as he stood there, bow in hand, waiting and listening, there was only the sound of the steadily increasing rain pelting the leaves and the forest floor around them. The shooting was probably nothing significant, since there wasn’t a follow-up or an answering exchange from a different weapon. Mitch wasn’t really worried with Benny and Tommy around the house, and he knew April could hold her own too.
 

“Whatever it was, they must have gotten it,” Jason said.

“Yeah, I don’t think it’s anything we need to worry about. Come on. Let’s go find your deer. We don’t have long before dark.”

Chapter Two

They had just started moving again when the rain increased to a downpour, the noise drowning out the possibility of hearing anything beyond the immediate vicinity, including more gunshots if there were any to be heard. It wasn’t going to help that the rain would obliterate the blood trail they were trying to follow, but Mitch knew the area like the back of his hand. He had a pretty good idea where the wounded buck might go to lay up and hide, and they would find it eventually, if not by dark then first thing in the morning. The three of them were prepared to spend the night out if necessary, as it sometimes was on hunts like these. The others back at the house wouldn’t be expecting them until they returned with meat, so no one would worry if they didn’t show until tomorrow.
 

Mitch was doing his best not to worry either, but the sound of those rifle shots had made him uneasy, even if there was likely a good explanation for them. It was just that so much had happened since the grid went down that it was difficult for him to completely dismiss
anything
out of the ordinary. If it had sounded like more than one weapon being fired, he would have certainly headed back immediately. If Jason hadn’t already wounded a deer they would have gone back anyway, as the heavier rain would have diminished the chances of a successful hunt. As he moved quickly, trying to find what traces of blood he could before the last of it washed away, he kept telling himself that all was fine back at the house. Benny was there, along with his son Tommy. Those two alone gave Mitch the confidence to stay away overnight. Mitch couldn’t have hoped for a better pair to have around to help look out for the property and everyone there.
 

Things around the farm had just gotten back to a somewhat normal routine since the last encounter with outsiders led him into an unplanned adventure a few weeks prior. Harrowing as it was, that ordeal had turned out well in the end and had increased by five the number of survivors now living on the Henley place. More importantly, among those five were April Gibbs and her little daughter, Kimberly. Mitch had never expected to see the two of them again, but he’d never stopped thinking about April since that day he had said goodbye to her in Hattiesburg. He had doubted she still thought much about him, if at all, but then one day she had returned, making her way all the way out here by way of the creek. Mitch had been practically walking on air ever since.
 

Their time together in those first few days after the collapse had been brief, but filled with danger and excitement. Something had clicked between them, and the life or death battles they fought together forged a bond that couldn’t be broken. April had come back, bringing both her little Kimberly, and Kimberly’s father, David Green. Mitch wondered if David would suddenly snap out of his amnesia one day and remember their relationship, but even if he did, April said it wouldn’t matter. She told him she had been through with David even before they left Hattiesburg. Now that she was back, Mitch was certain that the two of them were meant to be together; no matter how unlikely that had seemed when they had parted before.
 

She was on his mind now as he pushed through the wet undergrowth, the rain seemingly set in for the duration. It was going to be a long, miserable night if they had to camp in this, and a part of him wished that Jason hadn’t made that shot after all. If not for the rain and the pressing darkness, he would have insisted that Jason do all the tracking, since it was his deer and that was the only way he was going to learn, but Mitch knew that would take a lot longer and he was impatient. He pushed on ahead, an arrow nocked on his bowstring, ready for a quick shot if the buck should bust out of cover and try to make another run for it.
 

Even when he wasn’t on the trail of a wounded animal, Mitch kept an arrow ready on the string when he was in the woods. The practice had proven its worth countless times since the breakdown, and he had no intention of changing his ways anytime soon. In addition to his bow and the dozen hunting arrows carried in a buckskin quiver slung low and close to his side, his Ruger .357 Magnum rode in a holster on his belt. The revolver was there anytime he was dressed, from when he woke before dawn until he turned in for the night. All three of them were carrying firearms, even though they had no intention of using them for hunting. There was just no way of knowing who they might run into out here, so Mitch made it a point to keep everyone armed at all times. Jason had the AR-15 that was the state-issued patrol rifle Mitch’s dad had kept in his truck. He was wearing it slung behind his back so that it wouldn’t interfere with the use of the bow, but would be easy to bring into play if needed. Corey wore the Glock 10mm pistol that Benny had taken off the corpse of the man who’d abducted April. There were plenty of guns to go around for everyone; that wasn’t the issue. The main limitation was the amount of ammo they had on hand for each. They were well stocked in some calibers like .22 Long Rifle and 5.56mm, but with so many different weapons among them, ammo for some of the handguns, rifles and shotguns was in short supply. Mitch hoped they had enough to make it last, especially if they had to continue defending the farm from outsiders finding their way into the area. Discussing this often with the others however, they all wondered how many survivors were actually left, as it had been nearly nine months since the collapse. Would those who were still hanging on keep to themselves, like his small group was doing? Or would they still be roaming the countryside, looking for others who had more than they, like the men who tried to take April and Kimberly?
 

Mitch and those living with him still didn’t know if there was anywhere that was unaffected by the solar flares. They had to believe there must be, but how far away? No one they had met knew and everywhere in the region practically everything electronic or controlled by electronics was down. The result was far worse than a mere power outage though; the pulse had affected transportation and communication as well. In short, they were on their own, with bleak prospects of help or resupply. Most people, accustomed as they were to the comfort and conveniences of modern living, had fallen to pieces in the aftermath. Cut off and stranded, facing the prospect of individual responsibility for their survival for the first time in their lives; they found this new reality more than they could handle. Many were undoubtedly already dead. Those who remained were desperate; surely losing hope as the days, weeks and now months passed with no change in sight.
 

Mitch too, had been stranded in a world mostly alien to him on that first day. It was rare that he found himself in any city, but of all days that one when the solar flare hit was the one morning he had skipped school to drive his parents to the airport in New Orleans. After dropping them off, his father’s brand new Ford F-150 stalled at an intersection along with hundreds of other vehicles crowding the streets in the morning rush. Mitch did the only thing he
could
do, and started walking out of the city. Fortunately, home was less than a hundred miles away to the northeast, in rural Mississippi. Mitch could get there in a matter of days and he had to, because his little sister was there alone until he returned.
 

There wasn’t a day since that morning he set out that Mitch didn’t think about his mom and dad. He had no way of knowing if they were alive or dead, but others in the streets had seen jet aircraft falling from the sky. The plumes of smoke in several places on the horizon confirmed it was true once he was out of the truck and talking to other drivers around him. Mitch had to assume that unless his parents’ flight had already landed in Houston, they too were probably victims of a plane crash. There had been enough time for them to get there if the flight actually left when it was supposed to, but Mitch simply didn’t know and he knew he never would unless they showed up at the farm one day. It was more than 400 miles from Houston to these south Mississippi woods, but if anyone could find a way to get back home, Mitch knew that Doug Henley could.

The skills and knowledge Mitch learned from his father were keeping him alive today. Mitch knew he was fortunate to have been raised the way he was and where. Out here in the backwoods, far from big cities and even small towns, his family had been largely self-sufficient even before the blackout. Mitch had learned to do many things the old way, including hunting and preserving foods. With more than two decades of outwitting poachers and other outlaws, his game warden father had seen it all and Mitch absorbed plenty listening to his tales of their mostly illegal tricks and methods. All of this backwoods knowledge was crucial now, and certainly would be more so the longer things went in the direction they were headed.

So while Mitch would have preferred to be back at the house, warm and dry and in the company of April rather than out here in the woods in the rain, the discomfort and inconvenience was nothing new to him. If they didn’t find Jason’s deer before dark, they would find a place to settle in for the evening and resume the search in the morning light. Next time Jason would be more careful with his aim. Mitch was sure of it.

Chapter Three

The sudden report of a high-powered rifle shattering the quiet of the piney woods stopped Benny Evans in his tracks. The shooter had to be close, probably within range of where he stood, but there had been no sound of a bullet impact and a quick check of the girls behind him reassured him they were both okay as well. The rain that had been falling for several minutes was enough to muffle smaller sounds, like people talking or moving through the woods, making the gunshot even more startling. Benny hadn’t expected to encounter anyone out here, but it wasn’t far to the dirt road that ran by the front of the Henley property. Tommy and David were out making their rounds of the perimeter, but they’d already passed this way and Benny and the girls had spoken with them as they worked their way to the back of the 600 acres. Tommy was carrying his .308, of course, and the shot Benny just heard could have come from a rifle like that, but it was in the wrong direction to be Tommy’s. Besides that, his boy wouldn’t be wasting ammo for no good reason. When two more shots followed the first, even as Benny contemplated this, he began to get concerned.