The New Madrid Run (26 page)

The two men had barely made their way to the edge of town when a group of armed citizens in two pickup trucks appeared. A small, wiry man, carrying a shotgun, got out of one of the cabs and approached them. He wasn’t smiling but he didn’t appear ready to shoot, either. “What can we do for you, gentlemen?” he asked, shifting his weapon toward them to make the underlying point. Travis looked at the men in the trucks, then back to the fellow in front of him. “We’re just passing through—don’t want any trouble. We need some transportation. An SUV, or a van—something like that.”

“And what exactly do you plan on paying for it with, mister?” the man asked skeptically.

“Well, strange as it may sound, we just sailed up from Florida in a dandy little forty-six-foot sailboat. It’s anchored about ten miles east of here, and we’d like to trade it for something with wheels.”

One of the men in the other truck had been listening intently to the conversation. He got out and walked over, a look of interest blending with disbelief on his face. “You sailed up here all the way from Florida, huh? That musta’ been quite an adventure.”

“You have no idea,” replied Travis.

“What kind of sailboat?” the man asked.

“An Irwin forty-six.”

“Whew. That’s a nice boat, man! I used to be a pretty fair sailor when I was younger. I wouldn’t mind sailing again—just never figured I’d get the chance here. You’re tellin’ me you want to trade that boat for a vehicle?”

“Well, yeah,” Travis said, “a nice SUV, or a van would be even better.”

“Listen, mister,” the man continued, “I just happen to own what’s left of a used car lot here. If what you’re telling me is the truth, I’ll make you a deal on a real nice ‘ninety-eight Ford van that made it through the quakes without much damage.”

Travis looked at the sensei, who nodded. He turned back to the man. “Why don’t we have a look at your van. If it’s what we’re after, we can drive it down to the sailboat and close the deal there. If it’ll make you feel more comfortable, bring a few of your friends.”

“Oh, I will,” the fellow said with a wary smile, “I will. Now let’s go get my van. I want to see this boat of yours.”

Eric Dever, the sailing enthusiast, got into the cab of his pickup with Travis and the sensei; three of his buddies jumped in the back. They drove to his house on the outskirts of town, a rambling, ranch-style home, part of which had rambled down the hillside during the recent earthquakes. Off to the side of the house was a row of vehicles —the salvaged remains of Eric’s used car business.

The van was roomy and clean. It had a heavy-duty transmission, four-wheeldrive, and two gas tanks. Travis thought it was perfect for their purpose. They all piled in—Travis and the sensei up front, Eric and two of his armed buddies in the back, while the other one followed in the pickup. The drive back was quiet and quick. In no time at all, the bay and the sailboat came into sight. Living in a time when no one took any unnecessary risks, Eric and Travis rode the
Avon
out to the boat while the sensei remained on shore in the company of Eric’s friends.

As they pulled up in the dinghy, Eric took a look at the missing mast and the bullet holes. “She’s a bit rough. Looks like you did have some exciting times getting here.”

“Let me put it this way: You aren’t the first person to want this sailboat; you’re just the first person willing to pay us for it.”

Eric laughed. “It’s like living in the wild, wild West.”

Travis looked over and smiled. “Yeah, I’ve made that comparison more than once myself.”

They were helped aboard by Christina, and Eric spent the next hour trading stories and looking over the craft. When the hour was done, so was the deal. Eric knew he was getting a bargain, even with the bullet holes. The agreement was that Travis and his crew would get the van plus two extra five-gallon containers of gas. Eric would have himself a slightly used, but serviceable sailboat—one of the very few on Arkansas’ new inland sea.

For the next two hours, Travis and the gang unloaded their gear from
The Odyssey
and packed it into the van. More than a few eyebrows were raised when the National Guard guns and ammo were brought out.

“How’d you come by that, if you don’t mind me askin’?” queried Eric.

“Parting gifts from some of those people who wanted our sailboat.

“I see.”

When everything was loaded, and most everyone was onshore,

Travis and the sensei went back for the preacher, helped him into the
Avon
, and paddled it back to the bank. The three men stood for a moment at the edge of the water, one on either side of the old shrimper, supporting him as they looked back at
The Odyssey
.

“Sorta reminds me of my first car,” Travis remarked wistfully. “She was a beater, but I had some incredible times in that car and hated to let her go—even though I was trading it for a newer model.”

“Yeah, I sure understand that,” the preacher said. “Felt the same way about the
Jesus’ Love.
”

The sensei looked at both of them. “Come, my friends. Save your regrets. I have a feeling that all the incredible times are not yet over.”

They said their goodbyes to Eric and his friends, piled into the van, and headed west, toward the setting sun.

PART III
EDEN

“Welcome traveler, to the new Eden.

“Look around you; tribulation borne of woeful judgments in the past.

“The land has changed. Have you?

“Draw wisdom from these old hills, and seek your new destiny carefully.

“For there are still as many snakes out there as apples.”—The Preacher

CHAPTER 17

Travis drove, equipped with his memory of the area and a road map of Arkansas. The sensei rode shotgun. The preacher was made comfortable in a makeshift bed in the back, and the others sat in the middle seat. Ra wedged himself in at Todd’s feet.

Two hours later, when night began to fall, they pulled off onto a side road by a small stream and set up camp. Carlos built a fire and warmed a meal while the others laid out the sleeping gear taken from the boat. After supper, they sat around the campfire and talked of the future, and what they hoped it would hold. The sensei, as always, cleaned his swords.

When the flames had burned to embers and the excitement of the day caught up with them, everyone retired to their individual bedrolls. Travis, whose blankets were next to Christina’s, leaned over and kissed her goodnight, whispering, “If all goes well, another day and we’re going to have a room to ourselves.”

“Mmmmm,” she murmured sensually as she kissed him once more.

The misty morning air chilled them as they awoke to a cool, gray dawn. Carlos and Christina built a breakfast fire while Travis and the sensei packed the sleeping gear. The preacher was doing remarkably well; his wounds were healing and he was able to stand for small periods of time, but he tired quickly. After breakfast, everyone gathered around the road map and Travis showed them where they were headed. From what they had seen, the roads in Central Arkansas had suffered a fair amount of damage due to the quakes and tremors, but with a little luck and the van’s four-wheel-drive, they’d make it.

Shortly after sunrise the group was once again packed into the huge van and underway. Even with the bad roads and delays, Travis figured it was no more than a day and a half to his mountain homestead. He was trying to keep himself in check, but he was becoming excited. They had survived the worst. One more day they would reach the safety of home.

The travelers avoided the larger cities and kept to secondary roads as much as possible. They encountered a number of people in the small towns they passed through that morning. Not many waved like the Arkansans Travis remembered. Most just seemed intent on whatever they were doing.

They passed through places where it was evident that the citizens had banded together and struggled for the return of harmony—not just in the physical sense, but in a spiritual sense as well, discovering the pleasures of giving and helping. But, there were other areas where it was obvious that the contest of good against evil had been lost, and the baser side of man’s nature prevailed; hollow-eyed, frightened people moved quickly and silently into the shadows of broken, deserted buildings, appearing to have abandoned hope. The Apocalypse had come, and it had stolen their faith, leaving suspicion, deception, and envy as its legacy.
Catastrophe brings out the best and the worst in people
, thought Travis.

The countryside itself had changed as well, nearly as much as the people who populated it. There were great fissures, gaping wounds in the flesh of the earth that ran for hundreds of yards. Landslides still buried portions of the roads and forced four-wheel detours. Here and there a stream or a river had been re-directed. The weather was noticeably warmer, too; daytime temperatures were reaching the mid-eighties, and for early spring in Arkansas, that was unusual.

The day wore on and they stopped for lunch by a broad, tranquil river, finishing off some of the last canned goods. Ra splashed in the icy water, chasing fish, while he and Todd explored up and down the bank.

Sitting there on the grass by the water, Travis watched the boy and the dog playing, then turned to his friends. “Man, I can’t wait to drive that van through the gates of the old homestead. I’m just praying it’s still there.”

The preacher was lying on his back, a blade of grass in his mouth. “It’s gonna be there, son. It’s gonna be there, and you and I are gonna get to do some turkey huntin’ and maybe a little bass fishin’.”

“And I get my vegetable garden,” Christina chimed in.

Travis smiled over at her. “You bet, you do.” Then he looked over at the sensei. “And what can we do for you, my friend, to make you more comfortable in our little mountain home?”

The older man looked at Travis with his familiar smile. “In an attempt to resist the process of Americanization,” he said, “I would like a cherry tree, so that this time of year, its fragrance and its blossoms will remind me of who I am and where I come from. That token of my heritage may help quell the desire to scratch my genitals in public while addressing my peers as ‘Yo, buddy!’—and perhaps suppress my urge to consume greasy hamburgers and guzzle beverages of fermented wheat while watching giant men in helmets knock each other senseless in their pursuit of an oblong pigskin.”

The preacher laughed so hard he swallowed the blade of grass he was chewing and nearly choked. Travis, still chuckling, said, “Sensei, I will personally find you a cherry tree, if I have to rummage every remaining nursery in Arkansas.” Then, more seriously, “By this time next year, my friend, you will have your cherry blossoms and their fragrance.” And once again, as their eyes met, he bowed slightly to the Japanese, who returned the bow, never breaking eye contact.

When lunch was completed and the cooking equipment was cleaned and stored, they filed back into the van, anxious to be underway. The excitement was building. Travis was sure now that by the following morning they would reach home.

It was late afternoon; the group had been on the road for about four hours when they found themselves traveling through an area of well-to-do farms and ranches. Each homestead consisted of at least forty acres or so, and the houses that could be seen from the road were large and expensive. Suddenly, as they reached a rise in the road, they heard shots—short staccato bursts indicative of a firefight.

Travis slowed the van and listened. “That’s not a trigger-happy deer hunter. That’s somebody in trouble—I’d bet on it.” He turned back to the others as he stopped the van. “Whatever’s happening is taking place on the backside of that hill.”

“You have not had enough of people shooting at you?” said the sensei. Travis just looked at him. The sensei sighed exasperatedly “Very well, we will have a look.”

Travis told Christina and Carlos to keep their guns ready and their eyes open, then he and the sensei took their M16s and headed for the top of the ridge. Rapid bursts of automatic weapons shattered the still afternoon, and as they neared their vantage point, they could hear men shouting to each other.

They reached the crest, and cautiously peered down through the sparse woods at the confrontation. Below them were a large ranch house and a barn, enclosed by an attractive four-foot rock wall, accessed by a large wrought-iron gate in the front. It was a lovely home by any standard, but the house and its occupants were under siege. One group of attackers was moving in from the front while another group worked their way around back. They were using the wall for protection while they poured round after round into the building. There were signs that the defending forces were suffering. Several of the windows in the home were shattered, and there was a body on the corner of the porch.

Suddenly a child, perhaps four or five, burst from the door of a small guesthouse about a hundred feet from the main structure. She was quickly followed by a girl in her late teens; they were running for the larger house. The two must have been trapped in the smaller building when the shooting began, and they were trying to reach the safety of their home and family. The older girl snatched up the little one and continued running. Suddenly, a door was thrown open in the main house and a large man came flying out, his head down, his eyes ahead like a fullback going for the winning point. The men behind the rock fence saw them and began firing. Rounds kicked up the dirt around the man’s feet, but he just kept going. Even the girls started picking up fire as bullets zinged and hammered the ground around them. They were only about fifteen feet apart when the man was hit in the thigh; it spun him and he fell, but he was back on his feet again in a second, lumbering toward the girls, oblivious to the blood streaming down his leg.

Travis didn’t need to say a thing: He and the sensei raised their guns at the same time and opened up on the men behind the wall, who were in plain sight to them. In seconds, four of the ten men below were dead and the rest were scrambling for protection, having given up on both the girls and the man. The fellow grabbed the two girls and raced back to the house, pausing only for a split second to look up at Travis.