Going Home (23 page)

Stopping the truck under those trees and killing the engine, we sat and listened for any sound. There was nothing on the air. “We’ll stay here tonight. Let’s get out and take a look around.” I hopped out and stretched. The other two finally made their way out and just milled about on the passenger side. “Look, you two need to snap out of this shit. What’s done is done, and we didn’t start that fight.”

“It don’t change nothing,” Thad said as he walked off to look around.

“I’ll stay here and watch the truck,” Jess said as she let the tailgate down, looping the rope around the pin and sitting down.

“Suit yourself,” I said as I walked away, slinging the carbine over my shoulder to have a look around. This little clearing was shaped sort of like a kidney bean, with that strip of trees running down the length of it. There didn’t appear to be any houses nearby or any other roads. This would work just fine.

Heading back to the truck, I pulled out the antenna and slick line. Throwing the slick line up through one of the tall pines in the center of the clearing, I pulled the antenna up and connected it to the radio. I sat in the truck and scanned the frequencies for any traffic. I heard some stuff, a lot of foreign languages, but very little in the way of English. Thad and Jess were rummaging around in their packs. I assumed they were hungry; they weren’t saying much.

We had a couple more hours before we needed to check in with Sarge. So I decided to set my tarp up off the side of the truck, tying one side to the bed and staking out the other with the tent stakes. I unrolled my sleeping pad and laid my bag out on it. With home set for the night, I wasn’t really hungry but decided to make a cup of coffee using one of the heaters and the “Hot Beverage Bag.” This made a nice, warm cup of water, and that just wasn’t going to cut it. I pulled out my stove and set it up on the tailgate and used a canteen cup to make a real cup of coffee, as real as MRE instant coffee can be anyway.

Seeing how those two were acting, I told them I would take the first watch and for them to try to get some sleep. They set their shelters up on the other side of the truck from mine. Guess they were pissed at me, but we were all still alive and had a set of wheels. If we had gone back to Newberry, we would have certainly lost one or both of those. I sat on the tailgate with the carbine across my lap and enjoyed my coffee. It was quiet and cool out. There were no clouds in the sky, and stars shone with an intensity seldom seen prior to the event. I had plenty of time to sit and think about home and what might happen next.

Sarge’s words about martial law came back to mind—how it had already been declared, but we just didn’t know yet. If that was true, it made for a really ominous thought. Why isn’t the government around to help folks? What was their intent? And what was their endgame? It was around five in the morning while I was lost in thoughts of home when a strange sound came out of the night. It took me a minute to realize I was actually hearing something. I stood up and looked around, scanning the sky all around. The low wump, wump, wump was getting a little louder; it had to be a helicopter. Somewhere up there was a helicopter. Grabbing the goggles, I pulled them on and scanned the visible sky, nothing. But there was no doubt it was out there.

That disembodied sound gave me the creeps. Mike and his guys said they were inserted by helo for a recon that they wouldn’t talk about. Thinking about that bothered me too. If those guys were “off the reservation” as they said, why wouldn’t they spill the beans about what they know? If they were truly on our side, it seems to me they would be willing to give any intel they had. So helicopters used to insert troops. Helicopter heard overhead. Are troops being inserted around here? Now that was just paranoia. No time for that. I guess if they have a FLIR on board, they might see the truck, but no one was actively looking for us. I hoped.

Six o’clock rolled around, and it was time to make a call. I powered up the radio and tuned to the preset freq for the day. “Walker calling Foxtrot Sierra Mike.” I repeated the call.

“Walker, this is Foxtrot Sierra Mike. I have you five-by-five,” came the reply through the headset.

“Foxtrot Sierra Mike, authenticate blue,” I referenced my code sheet.

“Walker, I authenticate Lima,” came the voice again.

I started into the SITREP. “SITREP to follow, SNAFU, ten miles east-southeast of Delta.”

What this told them was that nothing had changed and gave them an idea of where we were. This code wasn’t very sophisticated, but we weren’t dealing with anything really important.

“Roger Walker, I copy SNAFU, ten miles east-southeast of Delta. Use caution; there are unfriendly ears on the air now. Foxtrot Sierra Mike out.”

“Roger, Walker out,” I replied.

I wondered what the hell that meant, “unfriendly ears?” Who else was listening, the government? And if so, why in the hell was that a bad thing? We couldn’t use the radio as we drove because all we had was the wire antenna; the ability to listen to it as we drove, getting more intel as to what was going on, sure would be nice.

I sat up until after sunrise, letting the others sleep. The sound of the helo last night disappeared not long after I heard it, almost as fast as it showed up, not long after I heard it. I went around to the other side of the truck and woke up Thad. “Hey, man, your watch.” I kicked the bottom of his sleeping bag. He climbed out and stretched.

“Sorry about the way I acted, Morg,” he said by way of a morning greeting.

“No sweat, man. It’s a hard thing to do. I didn’t like it any better than you guys, but I want to get home,” I replied.

“Well, I want to get home too. It’s just a lot to get used to,” he said as he went around to the back of the truck.

“Yes, it is. My stove is back there if you want to make some coffee or anything,” I said as I crawled into my bag.

“Thanks, man, get some sleep.” I heard him digging around in his pack.

“Oh, by the way, I heard a helicopter last night,” I said as I took off my coat.

He quickly came over to where he could see into my shelter, “A helicopter, really?”

“Yeah, never saw it though. Just be careful, and don’t draw any attention if you see one,” I said.

“Yeah, probably not a good idea,” he said and walked back to the tailgate of the truck. I went to sleep quickly and didn’t dream.

I slept until about five in the afternoon. I guess last night’s events took a lot out of me. When I woke up, I was seriously hungry. Jess and Thad both seemed to be in a better mood. We were all gathered around the tailgate, eating our MRE dinner. I made a canteen cup of “grape drank.” It was a nice change from just water but would probably give me the shits.

“You guys feeling better?” I asked as I stuffed some meatloaf into my mouth. Thad nodded and grunted as he chewed on some enchilada.

Jess was picking through her something and macaroni. “Yeah, I had time to think about what happened, and you’re right. If we had taken him into Newberry, we would have had some trouble. No matter how right we were, they probably wouldn’t have wanted to hear what we had to say. I remember a picture I saw in school of an Asian soldier shooting a guy in the head with a little pistol. That could have happened to us. Just thinking about it scared the shit out of me. I just want to go home.”

“It could have, or they may have understood. We could have all said our apologies and went on our way, but it’s a gamble that’s just not worth it. I want to get home too,” I replied. “Did you guys hear or see anything today?”

Thad was licking his spoon clean. “I heard a motorcycle or an ATV earlier, but it was far off and never came close.” He stuck his spoon in the pocket of the coat. “Let’s start to pack up so we can get on the road as soon as it’s dark. How long do you think till we get to Jess’s?”

“It shouldn’t take too long. We can’t be more than ten or fifteen miles at the outside,” I answered as I finished the last bite of loaf. We took down all our shelters and packed our gear back in our packs. They started to just throw their stuff in the bed of the truck, but I told them we needed to be packed in case we had to bail from the truck. It was about six o’clock, and time to make our call. I went to the cab of the truck and turned the radio on. Consulting my code sheet, I tuned to today’s frequency. “Walker calling Foxtrot Sierra Mike.” Again, I repeated the call.

“Foxtrot Sierra Mike, I have you five by nine. Go ahead, Walker.”

“Authenticate yellow,” I gave our simple challenge.

“Authenticate delta,” came the correct answer.

“SITREP to follow, SNAFU, same location as last.” We had agreed to keep things as brief as possible and to the point.

“Roger that, Walker. I copy SNAFU, same location as previous. Foxtrot Sierra Mike out.” Sarge, or one of the other guys, from the sound of the voice, signed off.

Before I could sign off, another transmission came over the radio. “Foxtrot Sierra Mike, this is Army Blackhawk Yankee Whisky five-niner. Please identify yourself.” I clearly heard the wump, wump, wump in the background. We had discussed this sort of thing, although the guys didn’t think it was likely. In the event we were called by anyone else on the radio, we were to immediately “go dark” and displace. We were to cease all transmissions for twenty-four hours.

Jumping out of the truck, I started to pull down the disconnected antenna. “We gotta move, guys, quick! Let’s get moving.”

“What’s up? Did you get a hold of them?” Thad was closing the tailgate.

“Yeah, I got them, but an Army Blackhawk came over the radio, calling them. They said if anything like this happened, we were to move right away. So let’s go.” I threw the antenna onto the floor of the truck and jumped into the driver’s seat, my carbine lying by the door.

“What’s a Blackhawk, what’s that?” Jess asked.

“It’s an Army helicopter, and prolly ain’t no good for us,” Thad said as he climbed into the passenger side and slammed the door.

“But it isn’t dark yet. We aren’t supposed to leave until it’s dark,” she countered.

“Yeah, but we need to move. We were supposed to move after making our call last night. I just didn’t feel like it. Won’t do that again,” I said as I started the truck and headed across the clearing. “Keep your ears open for any helicopters,” I said. Thad and I both rolled down our windows.

We finally found our way out of the trees, coming out behind a small neighborhood of houses. It was twilight and not quite dark out yet. Showing up behind these houses got us some looks from a couple of people. One house had some folks in their backyard cooking on a Weber Grill. When we came out of the trees, they just stood there frozen, staring at the truck. I sped up to get us away from the houses as fast as possible. As we passed the last house, a young woman came out from the side, waving her arms and yelling. We didn’t give her any notice beyond making sure she wasn’t armed.

Just past the last house was a paved road—a small rural road with houses off either side; however, they were set pretty far back from the road. This road ran east, and that was just the way I wanted to go. I was running pretty fast down the road; it was now dark enough that I needed the goggles. “Jess, hold the wheel.” I pulled out the goggles, pulled them onto my head and powered ’em up. In less than a mile, the road dead-ended into another paved road. There was a sign just before the intersection that said SR 121. That was good news because the road we wanted was off that. The only problem was I didn’t know if we were north or south of it.

“All right, guys, which way? North or south?” We had a fifty-fifty chance on this.

“Left,” Thad and Jess both said about the same time.

“Good, that’s what I thought too,” I replied as I turned out onto the road.

Thank the Lord for rural, sparsely inhabited roads. There isn’t much on SW Williston Road, the other name for SR 121. We rolled along without incident for quite a while. Another road intersected with 121 on the right side, but it came in at about a thirty-degree angle, or less. I actually passed it and had to back up to see the street sign, Wacahoota Road. This was the one we were looking for. I made a hard right turn onto the road and started down it. This was the home stretch for us. I was speeding up without noticing it; I just wanted to get to her house. At about eight o’clock, we came around a corner, and I saw the light from a small fire in the distance.

“There’s something up ahead,” I said.

“Yeah, I can see the light,” Thad said, squinting his eyes against the dark. “What is it?”

“Looks like a little fire. But I can’t really tell.” We were sitting in the road, the truck was idling. I started to creep forward, giving the truck just enough gas to move. As we slowly got closer, I started to realize what it was. There was an overpass ahead.

“It’s an overpass over 75, but it looks like there is a roadblock on it,” I said, keeping my eyes on the light of the dancing flame. It looked like it was a burn barrel, and I saw two men on this side. Who knew how many were on the other side?

“I know where we are now. On the other side is 441. We make a left, and our house isn’t far,” Jess said.

“That’s great, but there’s a highway, and this overpass, between us and it. How the hell are we going to get around these guys?” Thad asked.

“I don’t know,” I said absentmindedly.

If we were this close to Jess’s house, we really need to get across this bridge. I started to come up with an idea. “Let’s try this,” I said.

“Jess, you get out and walk up there. I’m going to follow you off to the side with the goggles. I’ll be close. Try and talk to them, and see if we can get through. If anything hinky happens, I’ll be right there.”

“I’m not going out there in the dark—no freakin’ way, man,” she protested.

“Look, we’re close to your house. There could be someone you know up there. If anything happens, I’ll be right there. We have to get across this. It’s our last barrier.” I was trying to reason with her.

“What about me?” Thad asked.

“You stay with the truck. If it’s clear I’ll flash my light at you three times, then you can bring the truck up.” This could work, depending on what happened on the bridge.