Tread Fearless: Survival & Awakening (The Gatekeeper Book 4) (20 page)

Mark nodded and said, “Fair enough. I want to talk more, but we’ll have time on the road. First order of business is getting this list to Green’s man, Jason.”

“I’ll go with. I want him to know I’m on board with the plan. The last thing I want is to be cornered by Green after his meeting with the DHS and FEMA folks at the high school.”

The equipment began arriving around nine-thirty that evening. Most of the camping gear, to include a sidearm for Lauren, a Glock 9mm with accessories, arrived courtesy of Cabela’s. But according to Jason, one team of scavengers was still out searching for a desirable bike for Lauren. He informed Mark that the team reported having a lead on a bicycle shop on their side of Lamar Boulevard, but they had yet to report in after missing their second scheduled radio check.

Mark thanked him, and turned his attention to the collection of six potential substitute mountain bikes laying on the back patio of the church. The building’s maintenance guy had rigged up a short chain of lights so he could work outside, but the illumination did little to encourage him when he began to examine the collection of cheap retail knock-offs lying on the ground before him.

With the sound of a power generator barely masking the noise of life around him, Mark got to work harvesting the best parts from the collection of bikes to form the sturdiest and most reliable bike he could assemble for Lauren. He paused to wipe sweat from his brow and drink water after removing the forks and cranks from the best bike in the lot. His next task was to find the best possible frame.

The frame from the bike that provided the cranks and forks would have been best if it wasn’t so badly bent. To Mark, the bike looked like it had been run over by a car. Still, despite the damaged frame and rims, the bike provided Mark with most everything he needed to assemble a decent bike for Lauren. All he really needed to complete his project was two good rims, and a new set of tires.

Mark silently hoped the last, and now officially lost, scavenging team could find new tires. The tires on the bent frame bike were the best in class, but their sidewalls were slightly dry-rotted, and would likely fail with the hard riding he anticipated. Still, Mark picked the best of the lot and continued to work.

Being an avid road cyclist, Lauren understood the importance of a good fit on a bike, but she teased Mark for being obsessed with assembling her the “perfect” model. He rarely replied to her comments because someone was always close by, either watching Mark, or reading under the light. Apparently there was little in terms of entertainment on the compound, so Mark putting on a bicycle assembly demonstration was quite the show.

For the most part he ignored the attention, but he was careful about what he said aloud. There were too many listening ears around, and even innocent ones posed a potential threat to his and Lauren’s security, so Mark kept his mouth shut.

It was especially true when it came to answering questions about his mission and route. He trusted Green with his proposed route, but even then he knew he’d change it once they started moving. All Green needed to know was Lauren’s general vicinity. Beyond that, it was Mark’s job to move her safely, and no one but him needed to know the exact route. Besides, he knew it could change suddenly.

After about two hours of hard and tedious work, Lauren’s bike was ready. Then, just as he finished attaching salvaged racks and saddle bags to it, the lost scavenging team arrived with their collection of three new mountain bikes. Mark sighed as he looked them over, and mumbled to himself as he inspected them individually.

Mark only half listened as the team leader explained to Jason how the team’s two radios had died as soon as they reached the farthest point from the compound. Then he went on to report that they had a little trouble in dealing with the bicycle shop owner. He told Jason that the owner had worked hard, with the help of armed family members, to protect his inventory, and that at first he was only willing to trade with silver or gold. They ended up working out a deal with food, and the team leader handed Jason a voucher, to be delivered to the bike shop owner the following day.

With the bikes unloaded, Mark was completely focused on picking the best of the three. When he identified the one he liked, he began to
move the racks to it. He was also pleased that the team was able to return with two new spare tires, and three tubes. As far as Mark was concerned, that alone justified the earlier construction effort on Lauren’s bike.

Once the racks and packs were attached to the new bike, Mark asked Lauren to come over and sit on it so he could make the final adjustments to her saddle and handlebars. But when she approached the construction site, she looked at the first bike, the one she knew Mark had painstakingly worked so hard on, and said, “But I like that one better.”

Mark grunted, and while wiping grease from his hands onto a rag, he calmly said, “That may be so, m’lady, but the one before you will serve you better.”

With a grin and twinkle in her eye, Lauren looked at Mark and replied, “That may be so, m’lord, but the fine steed you offered me at first does tickle my fancy.”

“It’ll tickle your fancy when it breaks down on the road and you’re left walking,” replied Mark, quickly dropping all pretense to continue speaking in a Victorian manner.

“I can walk, soldier. I’ve been doing it all my life,” quipped Lauren.

“My apologies. I’m just tired. And we have to pack yet before we can sleep. You can have the first bike if you want, but this one’s better.”

“I watched you work on this one for a long time,” she said, as she patted the blue, Frankenstein mountain bike Mark assembled for her, “and I grew rather fond of it.”

“Suite yourself. I’ll move the racks and bags again. But I’m taking the rims and tires from this one,” said Mark, as he patted the saddle of the one he held ready for her.

Lauren studied Mark’s expression and said, “I’m fine either way. You decide then.”

With a heavy sigh, Mark looked at her and said, “I’ll move the racks to the first bike.”

Lauren clapped three times, and then jogged up to Mark and kissed him lightly on the cheek. Mark didn’t know what to make of the display of affection, but once again he felt the extra work was worth it. He
could identify with Lauren’s sentimentality about the bike, and when she didn’t want the newer model he considered taking it for himself. But he quickly decided against it. Mark also knew, from experience, that it was better to go with the equipment you knew, than with equipment you didn’t. And he knew his bike very well.

Thanks to the work, he also knew Lauren’s bike almost as well as his own, and to change equipment would be risky and careless. With that settled, Mark quickly moved the better rims and tires to Lauren’s first bike, and then followed suit with the racks and bags.

As soon as he was finished, Mark wheeled her bike into his room, and with Lauren’s assistance they began loading up her equipment. Mark was careful not to overload her bike, and ended up putting most of the heavy and bulky items onto his own bike and bike trailer.

He enjoyed his time with her, as every minute they spent together brought them closer. But as much as Mark enjoyed her company, as soon as they were done loading up the bikes he sent her away to get some sleep.

Before bed, Mark managed to coax enough water out of Jason to wash up. By the time he was done it was well after midnight, and when Mark returned to his room, he collapsed onto the bed and fell instantly into a deep and relaxing asleep.

CHAPTER 8

VERDICT

J
ohn went into the house to grab something to eat, and returned with a dinner plate so Pete could go address the matter of the old man’s burial. His friend had decided to employ the labor of two male partiers, and John agreed whole heartedly. As far as he was concerned, the two ‘volunteers’ should dig a total of six graves, but he wasn’t yet ready to entertain that possibility with the rest of the company, or with the prisoners for that matter.

After explaining the mission to the two men, and cutting away their zip-ties, Pete handed each a shovel and directed them ahead of him and out the barn. As Pete turned to leave, Jessy cried out, “Wait! I want to do it. I want to help. He’s my dad, I want to help bury him!”

Pete turned to look at John, who only shrugged and said, “Its fine by me.”

John returned the young man who was dropped from the grave detail, and zip-tied him back to his pole. He then cut Jessy ties free and helped her to her feet. The young woman, with her bright green Mountain Dew t-shirt, now filthy with dirt and tears, looked much younger than her twenty-five years. She rubbed her wrists for a moment, and with a curt, “Thanks,” she walked over to Pete and accepted the spare shovel from her prisoner friend.

When Pete left with the grave detail, the remaining three prisoners, those being Becky and the two men from her party room, began to express their concerns for freedom and safety. At first John ignored them; their pleas ignored because he was enjoying a hearty plate of spaghetti with marinara sauce. But when they wouldn’t shut up, he
reminded them that, unlike the old folks they had locked up in the barn, with no food and very little water, they had it made. That they’d be fed as soon as the company finished eating, and to stop talking or be gagged.

When John finished his plate, he stood and leaned against the open barn door while studying the three prisoners. They were all little more than kids really, and they looked the part, complete with the frightened and dejected demeanor of a punished toddler sitting in timeout.

Becky resumed her crying, but the two men relaxed as best they could, given the fact that they were zip-tied to one of the barn’s heavy wooden support beams behind them. Becky’s was secured in like fashion, but her light brown hair draped across her face like a curtain, and she could only move it aside by flipping her head. The spasmodic jerking of her head, to clear the hair from her face, made her sound a bit like a broken police siren.

John, annoyed with her wailing but essentially helpless to it, occupied himself by moving the gas camp lantern to better observe the three prisoners in the dark barn. Then, with his flashlight, he checked the bonds to ensure they were secure. Zip-ties made for good restraints, but they could be worked loose with time and determination.

The sound of insects did little to drown out the steady hiss of the white-gas lantern, or Becky’s heavy breathing and moaning. John watched as a large moth approached the lantern and began dancing around it in the air. In a short time, it was joined by other, smaller insects who were also interested in the bright, white light.

John noticed that Becky was watching the display as well, and that she had stopped crying. She appeared completely mesmerized by the bugs flying around and landing on the green lantern. For some reason, the air in the barn seemed to grow heavy and John moved to the barn door. A shiver ran down his spine and he wondered if the weather was changing. There was no sound of blowing wind. The night air was still, silent and lonely.

“Sir, can I please have a drink of water?” asked Becky. Her voice sounded dry and husky, so John grabbed the water-filled plastic milk
jug and walked over to her. He held it to her lips and she gulped at the containers mouth as if dying from thirst.

When John pulled the bottle away, Becky looked up at him through thick strands of hair. Her expression was one of pure hatred, and it forced John to take a momentary step back. He lowered the water jug and studied her closely. Something about Becky’s demeanor had changed, she had grown hard and frightening.

“I want some food,” she barked, as if demanding such from John.

John jerked at her words. He felt an overwhelming urge to comply with her command, even against his will. There was something terribly powerful about Becky’s voice, how it filled his mind with a demand for absolute obedience, and it frightened him in an unfamiliar way.

Becky’s eyes were completely dark and set one moment, and pleading and scared the next. John had never before seen such conflicting emotions from a person’s eyes before, and he was at a loss for what to do. The girl suddenly grinned at John and then barked the order, “Food!” once again.