The Quest: Countdown to Armageddon: Book 6 (6 page)

     Another man followed along to help. That wasn’t what Robbie was hoping to happen, but it was something he could deal with.

     The other man was a rookie, only a couple of months on the force.

     Robbie had rank on him.

     “You, look over there,” he ordered, purposely sending the rookie far away from his shooting position.

     Robbie, of course, went directly to the spot where he’d gunned John down, and began to look for the missing shell casing.

     He wasn’t able to find it.

     He started to sweat.

     He was getting increasingly frustrated. More and more agitated by the minute, it seemed.

     The mysterious black man who’d gotten on the police radio just minutes after the attack probably saved John from bleeding out before he could be found. And that in itself pissed Robbie off immensely.

     But that was only the first in a series of things going wrong for John’s would-be assassin.

     He still hadn’t seen Hannah or the girls. His plan was to be the third or fourth officer on the scene of the shooting. He wouldn’t be there, of course, to help in the investigation. Rather, he’d put in an appearance and put on a great display of sorrow and anger because after all, John was supposed to be one of his very best friends.

     Then, after other officers at the scene took note of his grief, he would excuse himself to tend to the family.

     He’d say, “I’m probably closer to them than anyone else. They should hear the bad news from a friend.”

     But Robbie wasn’t counting on Chief Martinez collaring him at the scene and tasking him to set up a perimeter to keep the curious out. John was very popular with the community and word spread quickly in the surrounding neighborhoods that he’d been gunned down. Many citizens were there at the scene within minutes, either to lend their support or to get the latest update.

     And they were starting to get in the way.

     Chief Martinez arrived at the scene just as Robbie was headed back to his patrol car

     He saw the hordes of people coming from every direction.

     And they were starting to trample all over his crime scene.

      Unfortunately for Robbie, once the chief decided to put a stop to it, he was the first officer the chief saw.

     “Benton, we’ve got to quarantine this area. Grab two other officers and establish a perimeter. Nothing or nobody except SAPD within one hundred yards in all directions. Get these people away from here.”

     Robbie started to object, then held his tongue. It was important that he appear to be an outsider in this incident. If he protested too much about anything, it could be said later that he appeared to have a vested interest in John’s shooting.

     And that could make people start wondering if he was somehow involved.

     So he held his tongue and did what he was told.

     Inside he was fuming, and he was becoming increasingly desperate to break away from the scene and get to his sweet Hannah.

     But no. It was important he play the game first. Do what he was told. Deflect suspicion away from himself.

     As he gently pushed the public back and tried to answer the questions being thrown at him, he scanned the increasingly-growing crowd for the black man who called in on the radio. He’d sounded older. Not at all like the handful of black kids and teenagers on the scene.

     But there was no sign of him.

     Finally, the citizens were moved back, or were satisfied there was nothing left to see and went back to their homes.

     The perimeter was established, crime scene tape was placed around the area, and the chaotic scene settled somewhat.

     And best of all, Chief Martinez finally left.

     Robbie could now slip away and put the next part of his plan into motion.

     Or maybe not.

     As he was headed back to his patrol car, he overheard two other officers talking.

     “Hey, did the Chief say whether he was coming back?”

     “I doubt it. He said he was going to go notify the family, and to take them up to the hospital.”

     Robbie was careful to retain his composure. It would be to his benefit later on, in the unlikely chance he was ever brought to trial for John’s shooting.

     But he was cursing his bad luck under his breath. And when he was back in his cruiser and out of sight of the other officers, he let loose a stream of expletives and pounded his fist several times against his steering wheel.

-9-

     By happenstance, Tom and Sara were on their way to San Antonio on the evening John was shot.

     But they had no radio. Or wheels, for that matter.

     They’d decided to conduct their search for Sara’s mother on horseback.

     It made sense for several reasons.

     First of all, the Kerr County Sheriff’s Office needed Tom’s old Ford Galaxy 500 patrol car much more than Tom did. Yes, it would have enabled Tom and Sara to do their search much faster. But if there were an emergency in Kerr County and someone died because the deputies couldn’t respond in time…

     Well, that was just something Tom couldn’t risk.

     And horses were safer, in that the travelers were less likely to fall victim to ambush from marauders who desperately wanted a vehicle to drive.

     Horses seldom broke down, could be easily hidden from view when Tom and Sara spent their nights in the woods, and were easy to keep at that time of year. The weather hadn’t yet started to cool, and the wild hays and grasses were ripe and ready to eat.

     Tom rode Trigger, a young colt who loved long trail rides and was strong enough to carry Tom for days at a time.

     Sara rode Nellie, who she claimed was the sweetest horse ever bred in Texas. Or anywhere else, for that matter.

     Tom was quick to point out, “That’s only because you spoil her rotten with those apples.”

     The pair was traveling relatively light, but brought several days’ worth of rations. The rations were carried in saddlebags aboard a third horse, Silver. Silver got his name because he bore an uncanny resemblance to the Lone Ranger’s horse Silver in the old westerns.

     Silver would become Stacey’s horse once they found her and headed back to the compound. She would also provide a backup in the event one of their primaries went lame or got injured and needed a lighter load.

     By the end of their first full day they’d covered about fifteen miles.

     Sarah asked Tom, “Is this about what we can expect every day?”

     “It’s not too bad, considering they’re out of shape and so are our backsides. We don’t want to push either too much. How’s your butt?”

     “It’s sore, but not too bad.”

     “I brought some Corona you can use if it starts to blister.”

     “Thanks, but I don’t like the taste of beer. And I didn’t know it was good on blisters.”

     Tom smiled. He’d forgotten that Sara hadn’t come from a horse family.

     “It’s salve. The best on the market. You can use it for horses and people too. When we set out tomorrow, put a small pillow on your saddle before you mount up. Even though we can treat blisters, the best idea is to avoid them altogether.

       Tom took a hand-held radio on their journey, so they could stay in touch with the compound for their first two travel days. By the third day, they were out of range. Rather than carry a worthless radio on what could turn out to be a journey lasting several weeks, Tom stashed it.

     He turned it off to conserve the battery, wrapped it in plastic to protect it from the elements, and left it under a mesquite tree exactly fifty paces south of a high tension power pole marked with the number 805.

     He chose that particular pole because he was relying on Sara to remind him where they’d left it.

     And her birthday was August fifth.

     On their way home they’d retrieve it and use it to announce their progress as they neared the compound.

     An hour before sunset they stopped at one of the power poles and let the ponies graze while Tom started to climb up the tower.

     “Why don’t you let me do that?” Sara offered. “It’s my turn, and I’m younger and more agile than you are.”

     Tom’s muscles had gotten stiff and sore from three days in the saddle and he was inclined not to argue.

     So instead, he boosted Sara up to the first rung of the pole’s ladder.

     The pair knew that others used the road beneath the high-tension power line poles to travel north and south because they’d met several along the way. Some were on foot and others had horses.

     One couple had bicycles, and said they were trying to make their way to Minnesota.

     When Tom was told of their plans, he let out a slow whistle.

     “I definitely don’t envy you good folks.”

     The man told him, “Yeah, we know. We set out way too late. But we figure if we can make it as far as Kansas City before winter sets in, we can hold up there until spring. It might take a whole year to get to Minnesota but we’ll make it.”

     The wife added, “We have to make it. The people up there are the only family we’ve got left. Everyone else died. Even our baby, from the plague.”

     “Well, we wish you a safe journey, and will pray you get there safely.”

     It was the walkers which worried Tom the most. Some had been friendly, and others had looked shady. A couple of them eyed the pair’s horses in obvious envy.

     “We’ve got to protect what’s ours,” Tom had told Sara the first day on the trail.

     Part of that process was finding a safe place to bed down each night.

     And that was why Sara was on the pole. She was looking for a clearing in the nearby woods, a quarter to half a mile away. From that distance, no one would be able to see their small campfire after darkness fell. They might be able to smell it if the wind was right. But like an echo in a canyon, smoke in the woods was hard to pin down.

     She also kept an eye out for a water source. They brought enough water for two days’ ride. That meant that every other day, they had to find water they could boil to refill their canteens.

     But that wasn’t a problem. This part of Texas was littered with playa lakes, ponds and streams.

     Most of them also had a healthy population of fish or frogs.

     “Okay, Tom, There’s a small clearing due east. Maybe a quarter mile. And there’s a pond just north of that, maybe a hundred yards or so.”

     “Hot dog! We’ll be eating good tonight.”

     On the first night of their journey Tom had scored two catfish and a couple of bullfrogs as well. Sara ate her fill of the fish but shied away from the frogs.

     “I’d have to be awful darn hungry to eat Kermit and his friends.”

     That struck Tom as funny.

     “But it doesn’t bother you at all to eat Nemo’s cousins, huh?”

     “That’s different. Fish are made to be eaten. Frogs are made for…”

     She was suddenly at a loss.

     “I honestly don’t know what frogs are good for. To hop around and go
ribbit
, I guess.”

     “Well, food might not always be easy to come by. If you get hungry enough you’ll eat it, I’m pretty sure.”

     “You’re probably right. But I’m not that hungry yet.”

     As Sara climbed off the tower, Tom put a finger to his lips to tell her to be quiet.

     Then he pointed to a jackrabbit about seventy yards away. Only the top half of its head was visible above the heavy grass.

     He spoke in a whisper.

     “Think you can do it?”

     “Oh, hell yeah.”

     She took a .22 rifle from a sheathe on her saddle. The .22 was for hunting small game on their journey.

     Tom had a deer rifle for the bigger game they might come across.

     Sara took a knee and took steady aim. She chose as her target a spot in the grass about six inches below the rabbit’s eyes. That was where she expected his chest to be.

     She took a deep breath and squeezed the trigger. Through her scope she could see her prey slowly turn his head and look directly at her.

     Then she saw him fall.

     The dead rabbit was on their way to the clearing where they’d build a small campfire and spend the night.

     “You know,” Tom said as they led the horses, “Before the blackout most people wouldn’t eat a jackrabbit. The meat’s tough and gamey. But these days, with meat being scarce and all, you gotta get it wherever you can.”