Texas Bound: Alone: Book 11 Read online

  But every Sunday he’d sit next to his dad and watch those twenties get tossed into the plate.

  He finally got up the nerve one Sunday evening to ask his father why.

  “Why do you have money to pay the church but you can’t buy me new shoes to replace the ones with holes in the bottom?”

  That was all it took to get slapped across the face and knocked to his knees.

  “Jesus didn’t have fancy new shoes. What makes you think you’re better than Jesus?”

  He not only suffered a nasty black bruise on his cheek for that little stunt.

  He also got sent to his room without supper every night for a week.

  “Jesus was starved when He was on the cross. Maybe now he can feel what Jesus felt.”

  He was also grounded for a month.

  He never questioned his father again, about tithing or anything else.

  And he never forgot the resentment he felt about the whole church and religion thing.

  Later, when he was married, he went to church at the insistence of his wife.

  The wife was very religious, and she convinced him that one bad experience as a child shouldn’t sour him on his responsibilities to meet and worship God.

  She schooled him on the ways and traditions of the church, and told him that tithing is essential to the survival of the church, for modern-day churches must pay their bills just like every member of their congregations.

  Her religion was Baptist, her choice of churches old school. Sunday after Sunday the two of them sat in their pew, listening to their preacher tell his flock that they must give more and more.

  He looked around and saw that many members of the congregation were barely getting by. He knew from his own past experience that many were sending their children to bed hungry at night. Yet they were putting their money faithfully into that collection plate each Sunday.

  What irked him about that was the seemingly wanton way the church was spending its money.

  Twice in one year they remodeled. Not to expand and make the church larger to accommodate a bigger crowd. But rather because the church, as the elders saw it, was ugly. It needed a new brick façade and a paint job to look prettier.

  As for the preacher, he owned a million dollar mansion on a hill and three luxury cars; he also went to Europe for a month each summer with his family.

  Chad finally told his wife no more; he’d seen enough.

  She left him alone on Sundays to watch a televangelist while she went to church without him.

  He was getting into his new “church.” Was starting to become a believer.

  Then his television minister told his flock he needed a new airplane.

  The fancy jet he already had to spread the word wasn’t good enough any more. He needed a new one. A fancier one.

  Because God appeared to him personally and told him so. God told him to tell his flock if they didn’t send him enough money to purchase the new plane, then all of them would certainly burn in the fires of hell for all eternity.

  That was it for Chad Smith. That was the day he gave up on God.

  He didn’t consider himself a bad man.

  But in a new world where there were seemingly no longer any laws or lawmen, he’d do what he needed to get by.

  With no moral or religious base to guide him, he was a walking talking time bomb.

  Whenever the right set of circumstances presented itself, he had the potential of wreaking havoc upon anyone who happened upon him.

  Dave Speer and his family were headed his way.

  Chapter 48

  Dave and his group found moving much easier now.

  They were on a divided interstate, with a wide median between the northbound and southbound lanes.

  Yes, the median was overgrown with grass and weeds.

  But camping there was still much safer than camping along a two-lane road with no shoulders and heavy forests on both sides.

  By camping in the median it was very difficult for anyone to sneak up on them as they slept.

  Not impossible, but very difficult.

  They were more settled in their routine now, of traveling twelve miles per day and then stopping for the night.

  It was a lot easier to mark their distance traveled every day now, for the interstate had little green signs every mile that told them precisely how far they’d gone.

  They did make one concession to Lindsey, who wanted to move faster.

  When they completed their twelfth mile each afternoon they took a vote.

  If they were fresh enough to go an additional mile they’d do thirteen instead of twelve. If they were tired or hurting, they’d call twelve miles good enough.

  Sometimes they stopped, sometimes they went on.

  It was a compromise between Lindsey, who wanted to get back to Texas as quickly as possible, and her parents, who knew the dangers of overworking muscles and joints.

  All agreed it was getting a little bit easier as each day went on.

  Their bodies got a little bit leaner and stronger each day.

  At the same time, they were consuming four to six jars of food each day and discarding the empty jars.

  Each day they decreased the weight of the loads they pushed by a few pounds.

  They weren’t just relying on the jarred foods to get them by, though.

  Living on the road was a life of opportunity.

  One had to watch out for food sources along the way, and to take advantage of such opportunities to replenish their dwindling food stores.

  The same was true of water.

  They never discarded empty water bottles.

  Instead they saved them, and took the labels off of every other one.

  A bare bottle meant danger. The missing label indicated the water was not safe to drink.

  When they passed a fresh water source along the day… a river, a stream, a pond or a lake… they stopped long enough to fill up all the bottles without labels.

  That night, when they made camp and built a campfire, all such bottles were emptied into their three gallon cook pot.

  The water was boiled for ten minutes and allowed to cool, then was poured into empty bottles which still had their labels.

  In that manner they were in no danger of running out of safe drinking water.

  On the same afternoon Monica and Amy Martinez were laying out their garden the Speer family was making their way into northern Oklahoma.

  It was a milestone they’d been looking forward to for several days, and very few things could beat the excitement they were feeling.

  One of those things was Lindsey taking her very first rabbit.

  She knew how to shoot. Dave had taken her to a firing range outside San Antonio the summer before the power went out.

  She hadn’t had need to shoot while she was in Kansas, for her Aunt Karen had plenty of food squirreled away at her farmhouse.

  The Dykes brothers similarly had plenty of food squirreled away in their underground bunker.

  She hadn’t gone hunting in Kansas simply because there was no need for her to.

  Now they were on a long journey and had to practice practical food management.

  Practical food management meant that when an opportunity presented itself, one took that opportunity.

  When a rabbit appeared on the road fifty yards in front of them, Dave came to an abrupt halt.

  Since he was walking point, that brought everyone else to a halt too.

  He quietly took the rifle off his shoulder and took a knee.

  For a buck he’d have stood.

  A rabbit’s heart was a much smaller target.

  Taking a knee would give him just a bit more stability, and that stability might be the difference between a hit and a miss.

  He was gauging his wind and taking aim when he felt a hand upon his shoulder.

  He looked up.

  It was Lindsey, using her finger to point to her own heart.

  It meant, “Let me do it. This one’s mine.”
r />   Dave nodded and stood up.

  Lindsey took her own rifle from her shoulder and took her own knee.

  Dave wanted to coach her. After all, it had been awhile for her.

  He wanted to remind her once again of the fundamentals.

  But he chose not to.

  She either knew it or she didn’t.

  She’d either kill the rabbit or miss him.

  If she missed, there would be plenty of time to review with her why she missed.

  Now wasn’t the time to intervene.

  Now was the time to trust her.

  He reshouldered his own rifle, then stood back and watched her.

  With pride only a father can feel when watching his child do something he taught them, he closely observed her every move. He watched as she gauged the wind and the distance, determined the wind wouldn’t be a factor and estimated the amount of drop she’d have to factor in.

  Then she practiced trigger and breath control, just as he’d taught her.

  When she squeezed the trigger and the rabbit dropped dead she didn’t smile. She didn’t celebrate. Instead she responded like an experienced hunter. She wouldn’t celebrate the animal’s death, but instead would be thankful for it.

  When she went to collect it she’d make sure it was really dead. If it was alive and suffering she’d dispatch it immediately.

  And she would thank the animal for giving its life to further their own. It was something Dave always did when he shot an animal, because it was something his own dad did.

  And Lindsey would too, because it had become a family tradition.

  Dave offered to walk with her to the kill. To help her gut and skin it.

  “No,” she said. “I’ve got this.”

  Dave was filled with pride as he watched his oldest daughter walk to her kill.

  And she was proud too.

  She’d long wondered if she had it in her to kill.

  She’d sometimes doubted whether she’d be able to contribute as a subsistence hunter; one who hunted not for sport but for survival.

  She’d often wondered if she had it in her.

  Now she was proud, for she’d proved it not only to her father and the others, but to herself as well.

  There was another reason, though, why she insisted on leaving her father behind.

  She didn’t want him to see the tears in her eyes as she walked away.

  She’d watched Dave field dress a deer many times. She’d seen him gut and skin a rabbit many other times. She could do it on her own and wanted him to stay behind and let her handle it.

  The truth was, though, that Lindsey still had a tender heart. She’d harden over time, but for now tears flowed from her eyes and onto the meat as she peeled the skin away from it.

  She’d taken a life, and as proud as she was and as tough as she wanted to appear, it still tugged at her heart.

  As she walked away she never saw the grizzled old owl watching her from a nearby tree.

  When she was a safe distance away he flew down, grabbed the rabbit’s skin, and disappeared into the forest with it.

  Chapter 49

  The blackout changed everyone to some degree.

  In a lot of people it exposed weaknesses. Many thought they were equipped to handle anything and found that wasn’t the case.

  Those typically were the people who didn’t survive.

  They were the ones who took their own lives (and in many cases the lives of those they loved as well). Or they were brutalized by others who were bigger and stronger and more aggressive. Sometimes they were robbed and left dead on the street, or in their homes.

  Americans finally learned what second amendment advocates had already known. When the world descended into chaos it no longer belonged to the meek and the diplomatic.

  It belonged to those who had guns and who knew how to use them.

  The blackout turned many people into criminals. There’s always a certain element of society who finds it easier to take from others instead of working for the things they need.

  Laws and policemen typically keep those people in check, for they fear the punishment of the legal system.

  When the police forces dissolve, as officers are called home to protect their own loved ones, society breaks down.

  The legal system shutters its doors.

  People start to believe they can do whatever they want without having to suffer any consequences.

  People settle old grudges.

  Bodies start showing up in the streets.

  Rapists rape at will.

  Robbers steal at gunpoint.

  Burglars invade neighborhoods.

  Most of those people end up paying a heavy price. They’re killed by their potential victims.

  Justice is served the hard way, without need for police officers.

  The change is not all bad, though.

  The good comes out in some people.

  People who never considered themselves heroic stand tall in defense of the victimized or the oppressed.

  People who never considered themselves good Samaritans aid others who are hungry or hurting.

  People with nothing in common come together in mutual defense against the thugs and marauders.

  And the old saying about that which doesn’t kill someone makes them stronger? That comes into play.

  The victims die. The survivors get stronger.

  And now, more than a year and a half since that day the power went out, anyone still alive is much stronger than before.

  They’ve learned new things. Honed their survival skills.

  They’re tougher than before, and have a new arsenal of weapons to help them get by.

  For example, pretty much everyone could start a fire now. Most could fish and trap, even if they didn’t have a clue how before the blackout.

  All knew how to hunt, how to skin and cook animals, how to grow a limited amount of food.

  Nobody in the family could build a fire faster than Dave. Nobody else he knew, either.

  Dave wasn’t a man who did a lot of bragging, except when he told others what wonderful daughters he had. And that much is okay. Proud fathers are supposed to do that.

  So he’d never claim to be the best at starting campfires or anything else.

  It just was what it was.

  When they stopped and set up their tents, Dave went off in search of firewood.

  By the time the tents were erected and the sleeping bags placed inside them, he had a roaring fire.

  “Okay,” Sarah said. “We already know what we’re having for protein tonight. Thank you for the rabbit, Lindsey. Great job.”

  Lind flushed a bit, then beamed.

  “What else do we want?”

  Beth piped up first.

  “I’ve been having a craving for macaroni and cheese.”

  Sal said, “How about some of that jarred cabbage to go with it?”

  The meal was set. Sarah turned to Beth and said, “Think you can handle the mac and cheese?”

  “Is the Pope Catholic?”

  Beth only got away with her attitude because she was so darned cute.

  Sarah smiled and said, “Last time I asked him, yes.”

  “Well then. I can handle the mac and cheese.”

  Dave unfolded the legs on his folding campfire rack and placed it over the fire.

  It was big enough for two pots on one side, and several strips of rabbit meat on the other.

  Beth selected a two quart cook pot, put water in it, and placed it on the rack to boil.

  She opened two boxes of macaroni and cheese, took out the cheese packets, and set the boxes aside.

  When the water started to boil she dumped the macaroni noodles in and asked her dad to tell her when ten minutes was up.

  “Why, cointainly. Nyuk nyuk nyuk.”

  It was his best impression of The Three Stooges’ Curly, and it never failed to elicit a response from Beth.

  “Oh, Dad. You’re so corny.”

  Once the t
en minutes were up Beth drained the macaroni, added the cheese packets and half a cup of vegetable oil, then stirred well.

  Instructions on the box called for milk and butter, but they were seldom seen in the new world.

  One of the things Dave learned while prepping was that vegetable oil made an acceptable substitute for the milk and butter. The end result wasn’t as creamy, but it was very tasty nonetheless.

  By the time the rabbit was done everything else was too.

  Lindsey fixed the plates and passed them around, Sal said grace, and all settled in for a very filling and very tasty meal.

  Chapter 50

  As was their usual habit, the five of them sat what kids call “Indian-style,” their lower legs crossed in front of them and providing a table-of-sorts.

  They’d gone thirteen miles on this particular day and weren’t feeling the effects as much as they had been.

  Their legs were stronger, as were their arms and backs.

  Their mid-day meals were nice, and gave them a short respite from the road.

  But their evening meals were much better. They weren’t under the gun to eat and get underway again. They could kick off their shoes and relax, knowing they were down for the night.

  It was a much more enjoyable time, and a time for them to catch up.

  Especially for Sal, who missed most of the chatter that went back and forth during the day.

  It was hard to chatter when one drove a noisy go-cart back and forth all day long.

  As a result, by the time the group made camp and sat down for their dinner, Sal was typically full of things to say and raring to go.

  “This is absolutely the best rabbit I’ve ever tasted,” he said as a nod to Lindsey’s hunting prowess.

  He’d seen the sadness in her eyes after she’d taken the rabbit and sought to cheer her up a bit.

  “I can’t take credit for that,” Lindsey replied. “Rabbit is rabbit, no matter who shoots it. It’s the seasoning that makes it so good. Thank Mom for that.”

  Sarah didn’t want credit either.

  “Shucks, a little bit of vegetable oil, a little bit of salt and pepper. It’s nothing fancy.”

  “Heck, if you two don’t want to take credit for it, I will,” Dave said.

  Beth laughed.

  “Don’t even go there, Dad. You didn’t do anything except eat it.”