Renewal 4 - Down on the River

Renewal 4: Down on the River

By J.F. Perkins

Copyright 2011 J.F. Perkins

Kindle Edition

Website/Blog: http://www.jfperkins.com

Renewal 4: Down on the River

JF Perkins

Chapter 4 - 1

Terry had gone years without riding in a motorized vehicle, and suddenly it was his primary mode of transportation. Bill had dragged the young man out of bed before dawn. They had a sleepy breakfast meeting with the team that would drive up to the state capitol in Murfreesboro to seek state justice against Jerry Doan Jenkins. Even biscuits and bacon didn’t quite rouse him to full wakefulness. Terry hadn’t caught any of the names. He only noted that they were all young men, and that Sally wasn’t among them. Terry had his suspicions. Either Bill didn’t want his daughter distracting Terry, or he was afraid that if they ran into trouble, she would be the first one to pull the trigger.

“Ok, men,” Bill said, which reminded Terry of Bill’s stories of his own father who only referred to his sons as men when he wanted them to work hard. “We’re planning on heading up Highway 41 to avoid the problem folks along the interstate.” Terry wondered if the forty-five mile drive would turn out to be a lot more work than the diesel truck suggested.

The interstate system was apparently a problem since the Breakdown itself. First it was used to control movement of the population, and later it had become the home of various clans who made their primary living from old time highway robbery. They set up random checkpoints to stop traffic, and proceeded to rob the travelers. Some clans killed the victims to keep information under control. Some killed for far worse purposes, and some had styled themselves as honorable thieves who let the penniless travelers go in hopes that the word of the clan’s exploits would grow into Robin Hood legend. Either way, it was something to be avoided if possible.

The secondary highways were not safe by any measure, but unlike the interstate systems, they were lined with the farms and homesteads of people who either had learned to get along with the neighbors, or were self-sufficient enough that robbery made no sense at all. The unspoken rules stated that anyone would resort to stealing if times were hard, but the end of May was a benign time in Tennessee, and odds were in their favor to make the trip without incident.

“Nick, Jeffry, Seth, and Rob, you’re in the back for the trip up,” Bill was saying. “John, you’re shotgun, and Terry, you’ve got the hump.” This brought a chuckle from the young crew.

Terry, blushing, said, “Yes, sir.”

“Sorry, Terry. Until you get some training, we have to put you out of the line of fire.”

“Ok, Bill.”

“All right, men. We geared up?” Bill asked the group.

The young men affirmed that they were ready, and appeared to be literally leaning towards the door in their desire to get on the road, Dobermans straining at the leash. Terry thought it was an apt way of imagining it. With the exception of  big Seth, who was an exceptionally broad and massive wall of a man, Bill’s crew were all lean and muscular, handpicked for their ability to perform in the event of trouble. It looked like they could run like rabbits, carry 200-pounds of gear, or swing from tree branches if necessary, and of course, they were armed like commandos.

“Ok, it’s getting light enough to travel. Let’s check the load one more time and mount up,” Bill said, sending John’s squad out the door. They departed with an almost audible snap. “Terry, one second...”

Terry held up by the door and turned back to face Bill.

“Don’t worry about the boys. They won’t give you too much trouble.”

“Not worried, Bill. You’re right. I don’t know much about fighting.”

“Ok, besides, I need you up front to help me with the thinking.”

Terry snorted. “Well, if you need that, then we’d better bring more men.” He grinned at Bill.

Bill laughed at the joke and then replied seriously, “Don’t sell yourself short. We can train almost anyone to fight. It’s harder to see the subtle stuff. I’m counting on you to be a second set of eyes, ok?”

“Ok, Bill. You know the territory?”

“Yeah, I’ve been to the ‘Boro a few times, but that’s part of the reason you have to help. I might miss something, just because I’ve seen it before, and I might be looking through my memory instead of my eyes. Understand?”

“Yep.”

“All right, let’s hit it.”

Chapter 4 - 2

The Dodge was over seventy years old, but it chugged to life like it had just rolled off the assembly line. Less could be said for how it looked. The original truck was a combination of rough patches and multiple paints, but on closer inspection, Terry could see that it had been cleverly disguised as a harmless old farm truck. In reality, the truck carried some substantial armor and a semi-dangerous looking brush guard. The random paint job served well to cover the extra equipment, and managed to make the whole team look like they were easy prey. The bed was extended with heavy steel louvers that reached the roofline of the cab, and Terry could see that the steel strips could snap shut like blinds if the men needed cover. A similar heavy plate was resting on the hood in a position that suggested it could swing up to cover the lower half of the windshield. It’s smaller twin extended from the roofline in the guise of a sunshade, but Terry saw the mechanism that would cover top portion of the glass. He had time to wonder how much glass would be left for actually watching the road when everything was deployed. Then, everyone except John had taken their positions, and he was waiting for Terry to slide up into the middle of the bench seat.

Terry was happy to see the column shifter, which meant that his family jewels were not in danger from a floor shifter, but he was forced to bend his legs over to the passenger side floorboards. Bill needed his floor for driving, and Terry’s legs were too long to leave them on the hump. John hopped in beside him, and held out his hand.

“John Hall. I’m in charge if anything happens to Bill.”

“Ok, John,” Terry replied, giving John’s hand a quick shake. “Are you Jeffry’s brother?”

“Yep, he’s my little brother.”

All business, this guy
, Terry thought, nodding his understanding at John.

Bill dropped the shifter a few notches, and the truck started the climb out of Teeny Town. They followed the short gravel road up to the gate on the western road, and waited while the guards from the nearest post opened the gate. Terry looked over his shoulder to see if they closed it behind the truck, but could only catch broken glimpses through tall louvers on the back of the truck. They pulled out to the left onto Blanton Chapel Road, and drove the short distance out to the highway. Once they made the second left, Terry was in new territory.

Bill pointed out Busy Corner as they passed, reminding Terry of the beginnings of his story. Not much was left. Even the parking lots were disappearing into young forest. The school that served as the other shelter for the stranded travelers was destroyed, just like Hickerson Station. By the looks of things, and judging by the solid trees growing from inside the broken block walls, this one had crumbled to the bare ground. Terry was trying to look at everything at once. As far as he was concerned, this was exotic journey out of the county he had never left, and he didn’t want to miss any of the sights.

On the long slope downhill from Busy Corner, he was mildly disappointed to discover that the narrow margins on each side of the road were full of pigs. The fences were essentially wide open, with rusty posts connecting dissolved remnants of wire, but the pigs seemed content to stay inside them just the same. The stench was incredible. He was surprised they couldn’t smell it back at Teeny Town. The three minutes it took to pass the narrow hog farm was more than enough to make his eyes water from the fume-assault. He felt sorry for the boys in the back of the truck. On the western end of the farm, a family of people who could have been hogs themselves sat on the porch and waved placidly as the crew drove by.

Bill watched the road while his men watched everything else, actively checking the trees for threats as the made their way through the hilly section of the highway on that side of Beech Grove. The highway was cut into the slope in many places, which meant that anyone hiding in the trees would be dangerously close as the crew passed. At one point, just beyond the crest of a hill, a section of the highway had collapsed into a high pasture on the left. Bill came to a stop short of a broken section pavement, and looked carefully at the hard packed tracks across the gap. It seemed that the gap was solid enough, and drove the truck slowly across until they were on solid pavement again.

 Solid was always a relative term when it came to pavement.  Because no one actually paved anything anymore, any roadway was broken by definition. Luckily, the US highway had been built to old, pre-Breakdown standards that allowed it to survive, in some form, as long as it carried enough traffic to keep the plant life from taking over.

On the long slope leading down to the old Beach Grove exit, Bill saw a potential problem. “John, button up the back, just in case.”

John knocked on the rear window as a warning, and pulled a lever under the dashboard. The steel louvers snapped shut, and the men in back hunkered down. The slope made a gentle right hand turn and Bill knew he had indeed spotted trouble. There was an old farm truck parked across the highway, just on the near side of the interstate access road. Most of the old buildings were still standing, closely placed on each side of the road, making the single farm truck into an effective barrier. As they approached, several men stepped out of the buildings and took cover around the barrier truck. Another man walked boldly out front and stood on the faded stripe of the highway.

Bill slowed way down and played with the throttle to make his truck sound like it barely ran. He let it sputter to a halt fifteen feet short of the man, who was holding his hand out in the universal stop sign. John nudged Terry and pointed to his handgun. Terry hadn’t even thought about the fact that he was now armed. John was making his weapons obvious, so Terry unholstered his own weapon and tried to hold it like he knew what he was doing. The four in the back were lying flat to avoid being seen through the windshield.

The bold man was walking to Bill’s window. Bill tried the friendly approach. “Howdy!” he called, holding up his hand in a part-wave, part-unarmed gesture.

The man was wearing a sidearm, but left it in the holster. He had plenty of backup behind his own truck. “Hey, folks. Where you headed?”

Bill was watching the man closely, but trying to look casual. “Aw, we have some business up in Murfreesboro. Just heading up that way.”

“Well, then. I gotta ask you to pay the toll,” the man said, pulling his trucker cap off long enough to wipe his sleeve across his balding forehead.

“I didn’t realize the government was charging tolls for these old highways now,” Bill said, playing dumb.

“Yes, sir, they are, and on this exit, we are in charge of collecting.”

“We’re heading up to the capitol. Where do we go to pay?”

“You pay me, right now.” The man said, as if it never occurred that there could be another way.

“My name’s Bill. What’s yours?” Bill had seen enough to know who he was dealing with. He was looking at a man, not much younger than Bill himself, seriously underfed, dressed in a very ragged set of farm clothing and boots being held together with electrical tape. More importantly, he didn’t see a killer, or even a robber. He saw a tired, hungry man in the middle of a desperate bid for something of value.

“I don’t see that it matters, but my name is Larry,” the man said, failing to offer his hand.

Bill could see Larry sagging further with every word he spoke. “Larry, pleasure to meet you. Listen, you and I both know that you don’t collect tolls for the government...” Bill watched as the man opened his mouth to argue, and continued before Larry could speak. “...but, I have no problem with a little free enterprise, and I can see that you could use some good luck.”

Larry was still poised to continue his line of bullshit, but then gave up. “Well hell, Bill. I got nothing else. Our cattle died of some kind of disease, and then I couldn’t trade for any seed, so my farm is done for this year.”

“Larry, I’ve been there, and I would have stayed there if it weren’t for some good luck and some very generous people, so tell me more, and please have your men lower their weapons. I don’t think anybody will be helped if we all end up shooting each other. Ok?”

“Ok, Bill,” Larry said, and waved his men off. When the weapons dropped, he waved again, this time indicating that they should come out from behind the truck. “Those are my boys. Good kids considering what we’ve been through.”

When Larry’s sons emerged from their positions, Bill almost winced at the emaciated shape they were in. He was surprised they could even hold their rifles steady. Bill looked at John and nodded. John popped the armor open with the lever, and slid open the rear cab window to tell the boys to do a careful scan for snipers and then for two of them to come down from the truck bed.