Tread Fearless: Survival & Awakening (The Gatekeeper Book 4) (26 page)

“My arm feels better,” replied Pete, as he began to flex it.

“I thought you said you couldn’t feel anything?”

“I did as . . . Brittany?” John nodded, and he continued, “. . . was working on it. I swear, if I didn’t know better, I’d say she was cutting my arm off.”

“She said she could do that if you’d like?”

Pete squinted at John and said, “Did not.”

“Did so. Wait.” John was quiet for a moment and said, “Brittany wants me to tell you that you should ice your arm and take some aspirin . . . that it will hurt for a few hours.”

“She did not!”

“No, seriously. She really did.”

“But it was a wound from the . . . other side. That makes it spiritual. How does that connect with my . . . oh, never mind,” finished Pete.

“It’s a lot to take in, but the connection is absolute, even when I step out. I can’t explain how the spirit can move independently from the body, but it can, and does. You were fighting with me, your spirit, but you were also sitting right there. There’s a lot I don’t understand either, but I’m learning. I’ll teach you what I know when I learn it, but it’s a slow process.”

“Why can you do what you do, and I can’t?” asked Pete.

“I don’t know, yet. Something’s missing from my life, some part or past event that made this all possible. But believe me when I tell you I’ve asked that same question a thousand times. All I can say is that my ability comes with a price. There are times that I wish I was . . . normal again, but then I think about what normal was for me, and I realize I was never really normal. I was always different from everyone around me, even my brothers and sisters.” John shrugged and added, “I’ve asked
for understanding, but it hasn’t been given to me yet. All I know is that, when I’m supposed to know, I’ll know.”

“Do you think I’ll be able to do what you do?”

“I do, but I can’t say when. I’ve come to realize that my expectations and timing doesn’t always match with Father’s. It’s all about trust with Him, and the more you trust Him, the more He reveals. But it’s a hard lesson at times, it’s like . . .” John’s watch alarm went off and he looked at it. He pressed a button on it and said, with some humor, “It’s time to get up.”

Pete looked at his watch and said, “Zero-five-forty-five? You need fifteen minutes to get ready?”

“At least that long to lace up my boots,” replied John. “I’m not a spring chicken anymore.”

“More like a spring turkey,” said Pete.

John snorted, turned serious, and asked, “You don’t think I’m going crazy, do you?”

“If you’re going crazy, John, then we’re all screwed.”

“I’m serious, Pete. Do you think I’m nuts?”

“I think you’ve always been a little nuts. But right now, here today, sitting in this barn, I think you’re the only one who can get us to where we need to be. I trust you, brother, and I mean that totally and completely,” replied Pete, now equally serious.

John sighed and said, “Okay. I’ll go wake everyone up so we can get ready to leave. Do you think we need to cuff the kids again, before they wake up?”

“I didn’t think you noticed,” replied Pete.

“That you cut them free so they could sleep? I did, and I would have done the same.”

“I was planning to leave them in the barn as we got ready . . . just pull the barn doors shut and tell them to sit tight,” said Pete.

John nodded and said, “Good Plan. I’ll get started then. I’ll have someone bring you guys some breakfast.” John turned away, but then he turned back and put a hand on Pete’s shoulder. He looked at his friend,
more a brother really, and said, “Thanks for believing in me. I can’t tell you how much it means to me.”

“Well, you’re the only one who can use that fancy compass, so it’s not like I can trust anyone else,” replied Pete with a grin.

John grunted a reply and turned toward the house. When he reached the open barn doors, he said over his shoulder, “Yeah, well Brittany said you were a big baby.”

“What? She did not . . .”

With the last bit of cleanup completed, and everything stowed in vehicles ready to roll, the little ones were allowed to run around while Pete led the boys on one last-minute police-call and security check around the perimeter. Jenna was busy talking to Mary on the front porch, and John was with the young adults in the barn. They stood talking at the open barn door, and for the most part everyone could see what everyone else was doing. Thus, the pending departure filled the air with hope, mixed with anxiety and a bit of dread, depending on who you were, and where you stood.

Most of the anxiety came from the former partiers, now very much young adults, who were worried about their future. They were asking John questions, and clearly wanted to know what was going on around the world. John obliged as best he could, but he could tell they really wanted to know more than they were asking. But Jessy, in her standard bold form, broke the ice by asking, “What happened here last night?”

“What do you mean?” asked John.

“I mean last night, here, in the barn. What happened? I woke up with a splitting headache, and I had some really crazy dreams. Did you guys drug our water, or something?”

John wanted to laugh. He thought it was funny given their willingness to experiment with illegal drugs, that they would accuse him of drugging them. It was strangely ironic and comical, but he didn’t
laugh. He could tell she was serious. “You weren’t drugged by us,” replied John, flatly.

“We’ve been talking, and none of us have ever woken up with such a hang-over before. We’re all convinced you guys did something to us,” pressed Jessy.

The other’s each offered a “Yeah,” in support, and John turned to look at each one of them. He returned to settle on Jessy and said, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Besides, what’s important is that you’re alive and well, and not buried in the ground somewhere out back.”

“Is that a threat?” snapped Jessy, as she flung her mussed hair to the side with a dirty hand.

“You’re a spunky one, I’ll give you that. You might just make it with such internal strength
,” thought John. Aloud he said, “Calm down, Jessy. We never meant you any harm. When we found your mother and father tied up in the barn, it changed things for you guys.”

Jessy’s eyes shot past John and he knew she was looking at Mary, her surviving mother, as she sat next to Jenna on the front steps. Tears began to well up in her eyes and she quickly wiped them away with a dirty edge of her short-sleeved shirt. “What are we supposed to do now?” she asked, without looking at John.

John gestured, with a wave of his arm, to the farm around him. He said, “This place is solid, with potential. If you guys work together, get serious about your survival, you could make something of yourself here. Gather up the chickens, take care of the remaining cattle, plant a garden, do something that doesn’t involve sitting on your butt for more than a couple minutes each day. Work, Jessy. It’s time for you guys to get to work.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” she said. You have everything you need.”

“Not everything, but enough. You have enough here,” said John.

“We don’t have any guns and bullets,” she retorted.

John sighed and said, “Mary . . . your mom has a shotgun and a box of shells. But you can make weapons too. The point is, use your brains. The world’s changed. It’s not all soft and cuddly like before. There are no
rules and laws anymore, at least not like it was. The new rules and laws are based on survival, and many will take that to the extreme. Everyone will be trying to survive, and that makes everyone dangerous. But you guys can survive if you work together. You can make it if you’re willing to work at it. But no more tears. No more crying, complaining, and blaming other people for your problems. It’s time to take responsibility for your decisions and make amends.

Jessy snorted and looked up. Her boyfriend put his arm around her waist and said, “Thanks John . . . thanks for feeding us, and for letting us go.”

John nodded, and Jessy snorted again. “Yeah,” she said sarcastically, “thanks for not killing us.”

John looked to the young man holding Jessy and said, “We left some supplies with Mary . . . a few things we could spare. But if you really mean to survive, you need to get busy here, or leave. Head for someplace organized, someplace willing to let you in. There’ll be plenty of groups looking for kids your age to do the hard work. If you play it smart, they might just let you in. But take Mary with you. She won’t last a week here by herself.

“We could head to a government camp,” said Becky. “There’s got to be one close by.”

“No way,” said her boyfriend, “There’s no way I’m going to a FEMA camp. I read what happened to the one in Louisiana, after that hurricane.”

John sighed and said, “Look, you do what you think is right. But whatever you do, just take Mary with you . . . don’t leave her here to die.” They nodded and added a few more comments about their current situation, but most of it was debate amongst them, about their next moves. John listened, but said nothing unless asked.

“You’re gonna give us back our keys?” asked Jessy’s boyfriend.

“I said I would. I’ll leave them in a garbage bag down the road a ways. You can walk and pick them up when we’re gone. We didn’t mess with your cars . . . you’ll find them as you left them.”

“We won’t follow you, man,” said the other young man.

“I know you won’t,” replied John without venom or concern. “You guys have been given a second chance. I suggest you make the best of it. We’re leaving now. Good luck to you.” And with that, John turned and walked back to the convoy.

Pete was leaning against the Suburban, and he continued to watch the young adults as they walked over to join Mary on the front steps. Jessy took a seat next to her mom and immediately rested her head on her mom’s shoulder. “You think they’ll make it?” asked Pete.

John turned to look at them, shrugged, and said, “God willing. We ready to go?”

“Yup. Given the circumstances, I think we should leave together. I’ll push out ahead when we’re on the road. We’ll stay on 89 for a ways, but after that I’ll wait to hear from you. Is the compass still pointing west?”

“The last I looked,” replied John, as he instinctively dropped a hand to the left cargo pocket of his pants. The weight of the compass was ever present. It plopped solidly against his thigh with every step he took. But he was getting used to it there, and was afraid of damaging it by smacking into something hard. He reminded himself to look for a case that would attach to his belt. “Let’s get this show on the road,” added John, and he began to walk toward Pete’s truck, where the rest of the group was gathered for their morning prayer.

“Marissa, would you do the honors?” asked John.

“I’d love to. Thanks for asking,” she said, and bowed her head.

A crack like a rifle, only much louder and a lot deeper, and from directly overhead, filled the air. Everyone looked up, but Pete was the first to point and say, “There, do you guys see that?”

They turned to follow the direction of his hand to the west and he yelled, “Everyone down! Now!”

The command in Pete’s voice was enough to make everyone drop, but John also heard the fear in his voice. He saw what Pete saw, and before he could reach the ground, two bright flashes of light strobed across the still morning air of a once peaceful sunrise.

“What was that?” asked several of the adults, and a few of the kids, from the ground near to the truck. They resembled a pile of human sticks, hastily dropped to the ground as if from a toddler. John looked to the house and saw everyone down, and he noticed Anthony, Paul and Marissa’s youngest boy, looking at him with fear. He felt instantly sorry for the insanity the five-year old was now surrounded with. He winked at the boy, and smiled as he tried to wink back. He knew then that they’d be alright.

“Nukes!” snapped Pete. “Now stay down! Don’t get up until I say!”

“Oh . . . my . . . God!” shrieked Bonnie, as the earth began to shake under them.

“Bonnie!” snapped Pete. “Get a grip. They’re miles away. John, you have your map with you?”

“It’s on the seat of the Suburban. Want me to get it?”

“I’ll get it. Everyone stay put,” yelled Pete, and he got up to run for the Suburban.

John heard the footsteps, then the truck’s door being opened, closed, and then more footsteps as Pete ran back to the group. The shock wave from the first blast reached them and Pete was slammed into the rear quarter-panel of the Suburban. It was little more than a shove, but enough to catch Pete off balance and bounce him to the ground.

John rolled over and looked behind him. He saw that Pete was okay, and noticed the trees swaying from the force of the blast. Just as Pete reached the group, the second shock wave reached them. It was much less than the first, and Pete barely reacted to the pressure. “That’s the last of it. I think everyone can stand up now,” he said, breathing heavy from the sprint to and from the Suburban, and John was sure, from the excitement of the event.

With the map in hand, everyone followed Pete to the other side of the vehicles. They stood looking somewhat to the west, off toward the distant horizon. The unmistakable sign of a mushroom clouds was climbing into the atmosphere. Pete held the map in his hands and said, “Wichita Falls.” He turned to John and asked, “Is there a strategic target there?”