Tread Fearless: Survival & Awakening (The Gatekeeper Book 4) (38 page)

If there was ever danger nearby, Sage would probably know it first anyway. As for his gut feeling, Mark still trusted it better than the dog.
He wasn’t one to go riding blindly down any path, but that was changing with every mile. Sage was giving him the confidence he needed to travel surely and quickly. They soon descended a short bank of dirt, passed through a narrow, wooded, tree line, and then over a bed of sand before reaching the edge of the open field, which would lead them to the dry creek bed under the overpass.

Mark stopped to wait for Lauren to join him, and he watched as another convoy of military trucks passed by on the highway in front of them. He was glad they could pass under the highway instead of over it. Heavy tactical trucks, or Hemets as they were called in the army, were rolling east under escort. Interspersed among them were a few medium tactical vehicles, and two Humvees. It was impossible to tell what they were hauling, whether it be troops, equipment, or both. The covered loads could be anything in the darkness.

“Want to get a closer look at the convoys?” said Mark, as Lauren stopped beside him and stood off the seat to stretch her back.

“Why now?” she asked. “I thought you wanted to do this from the school back there?”

“That school gives me the creeps. Besides, I just followed Sage,” answered Mark, as he continued watching the last of the present convoy slip away into the darkness to the east. He looked to the left and saw more convoy headlights approaching. They were easy to spot in the dark with no power, and few other vehicles moving on the highway.

“What do you think’s going on?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Could be their reaction to the nuke, or anything, really. Whatever it is, looks like they’re moving at least an entire division, if not more,” said Mark. “Let’s go park at the bottom of the highway embankment, and I’ll climb up and see if I can spot a unit bumper number.”

“Do you think that’s safe?” asked Lauren.

“That’s the only way to find out. You worried about me?”

“By risking your neck to satisfy curiosity . . . a little,” replied Lauren.

“It’s more than simple curiosity,” replied Mark. “It might give us a clue about what’s going on. Besides, you said you wanted to know what the Army was doing in Georgetown. This might be the best opportunity we have. That might be them moving by,” said Mark, as he pointed to the next approaching convoy. “What if they’re bugging out? Don’t you want to know more about what’s going on?”

“If you think it will help, then go ahead. But I don’t care about Georgetown anymore,” replied Lauren.

“Really?” asked Mark with surprise.

“Really. I don’t. I want to stay together. I want to go where you’re going,” said Lauren.

Mark sighed and looked up. Low, gray clouds, barely visible in the night sky, swirled by at speeds much greater than the air was moving near the ground. But at that moment the weather didn’t concern him. Lauren’s words had lifted an incredible weight from his shoulders; a weight he didn’t even realize he was carrying until it was actually lifted.

He looked at Lauren and smiled. The occasional flicker of headlights played off her face, revealing a tender beauty and strength. She was another anomaly for him, a specimen of relative perfection, at least by his standards, which were reasonably high. Mark’s heart beat rapidly, and he knew he was falling for Lauren in ways he never thought possible.

Sage walked up to them, and Mark acknowledged him with a piece of jerky from his own. She smiled again and studied Mark with the same intensity he had studied her with moments before. The two were seemingly frozen in time, caught up in a unique connection of energy neither understood, but didn’t want to break. Thought it was foreign, strange even, it felt good to be connected in such a way.

Finally, Mark blinked in surprise and rubbed his forehead. He wanted to say, “Wow. What was that?” but instead said, “I’m glad you said that. I was afraid we’d reach a point where we would have to split up. There was no way I was going near the army there. Everything about it was bad. Especially stashing our gear.”

“You would have left me?” she asked softly, tenderly, with no surprise in her voice, but absolutely curious to hear how Mark would respond.

“I guess it would have been you who left me. I would have waited for you . . . hoping you would come back. But I wouldn’t go anywhere near your dad’s friend . . . Fogg, after reading that letter.”

“I wouldn’t have asked you to, but I’m glad you would have waited.”

“Lauren. All I’m saying is . . .”

“Mark,” she said interrupting him, “let’s get something straight. I won’t ask you to do anything against your will. I know what’s at stake for us here, today, and tomorrow, and the day after even. I know what we’re up against. But I also know I need to stay with you. That staying with you is survival. Now that you know how I feel, will you stay with me, too?”

“To the very end,” he said, and reached over to hug her. She returned the hug, an awkward thing to do with two people straddling mountain bikes, but it was long and warm and sincere.

“I’m glad you found me,” whispered Lauren.

Mark gripped her more firmly for a moment, and then leaned back to look at her face once again. He was about to say something, anything, but no words came to his lips.

Sage barked lightly, reservedly, as if to say, “We need to keep moving, you two.” Mark snorted in humor and said, while looking at Sage, “What? Do you want a hug too?” Sage turned in a quick circle and began walking away, clearly not interested in being hugged by Mark.

“I think he wants us to keep moving,” said Lauren. “Do you still want to see those bumper numbers?”

“No longer interested,” said Mark. “Alright Sage. Lead the way.” And then to Lauren he said, “We should push our bikes along the creek bed, at least until we’re clear of the highway and on the dirt road on the other side. We can’t afford to damage ourselves, or our equipment.”

Lauren nodded and took a drink from a water bottle. And while she drank, Mark added, “There’s a paved, secondary-road about a
quarter-mile to the northeast. We should have smooth sailing from there until we reach the San Gabriel River near Georgetown. You ready?”

Lauren slipped her water bottle back in the frame-mounted rack and asked, “How far are we from Georgetown?”

“About twenty miles, give or take,” said Mark. When Lauren blew out a blast of air, Mark said, “It’s not as far as it sounds. We can do twenty miles in two hours, easy.”

“If you say so,” said Lauren. “It took us almost two hours to go ten miles.”

“That’s because we haven’t hit our rhythm yet. And we really don’t have to start worrying about finding shelter until about zero-three,” said Mark.

“Covered shelter again?” she asked.

“I think that’s best given the potential for fallout,” replied Mark.

They continued to chat softly as they pushed their bikes toward the highway underpass. The creek bed remained dry and relatively easy to move along, but Mark remained vigilant. Sage was up ahead, out of sight, but he was confident in the dog’s abilities and allowed himself to relax.

As they neared the first support column, Mark heard Sage growl softly. He quietly laid his bike down and pulled his pistol. Lauren did the same, but he signaled for her to stay with the equipment while he went ahead to investigate what had caught Sage’s attention.

“What do you think it is?” she whispered before Mark could step away. Mark held a finger to his lips and quickly turned away and disappeared into the darkness under the overpass. When he reached Sage, he lightly patted the dog’s shoulder and knelt beside him. “What do you hear, boy?” he asked.

Mark listened and thought he heard talking, but he couldn’t be sure. He removed his mini, tactical flashlight and started walking slowly and quietly forward. The sound of big diesel engines, and the hum of heavy truck tires rolling by on the concrete roadway above him, made discerning any other sound nearly impossible, so he paused and waited.

During the wait, he thought he heard the clink of something metal on metal, and the soft cry of a young child. Sage’s ears flicked here and there as he too tried to get a bead on the sound that echoed under the overpass. Instead of growling, Sage whined softly, telling Mark someone was ahead, but that they weren’t a threat. Mark knew it was people, but he had a hard time accepting Sage’s assessment.

Finally, after the last of the passing vehicles moved on, Mark resumed inching his way forward with Sage by his side. He cleared the first set of lanes, the eastbound side of the highway, and made his way to the underside of the west bound lanes. It was then that he heard, “You have to be quiet. Someone’s coming.” The voice was young, but also brave and determined. Mark placed it as a twelve year-old boy.

The second voice was much younger, maybe six or seven, and also a boy. Mark heard him whisper in reply, “But I’m really scared. When’s daddy coming back?”

Now knowing they were alone, Mark stood still and said with a calm voice, “Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you.” His words set off a chain reaction of events he didn’t anticipate. The youngest boy screamed, Sage barked, and the older boy lost his footing and slid down the steep concrete embankment to land roughly at Mark’s feet. The kid cried, “Ouch!” and looked up at Mark with fear and surprise with Mark’s flashlight beam in his face.

The young boy quickly covered his eyes with his right arm, and Mark said, “Sorry, kid,” as he shined it up to the underside of the overpass where the younger boy sat huddled on the ground with a red backpack clutched to his chest. “Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, as he quickly turned off the bright light and pulled a small, map-reading, red lensed flashlight from his pocket. “Is that better?” asked John. “Can you make it down?”

“Yes,” said the little boy, as he let the pack slide to the ground at Mark’s feet.

“You’re not going to hurt us, are you mister?” said the young boy standing near him.

“Of course not,” said Mark, as he rubbed the kid’s head. He realized he had been wrong about the older boy’s age. He wasn’t twelve, more like nine or ten. But he was also impressed with the kid’s bearing.

He watched as the younger boy crab-crawled down the steep concrete retaining wall, and settled down to sit close to his brother. He then began to giggle as Sage started licking the boy’s face. Mark smiled as the little boy tried to defend himself with small hands against Sage’s tongue assault, but he quickly wrapped his arms around Sage’s big neck and buried his face into the dog’s thick fur. If Mark didn’t know better, he’d say it was a family reunion.

“Seriously, Sage?” he said. In reply to Mark’s comment, Sage barked loudly, just once, and the sound of it echoed sharply off the overpass structure around them. The two little boys covered their ears, and Sage took that as an invitation to resume licking their faces. Soon the two boys were busy showering their adoration on Sage, totally lost in the moment, and oblivious to the danger that persisted around them. But Mark knew, from experience, that it was something only kids could do. They always seemed to be the most resilient and quick to forget the danger.

Mark took the moment to study the red backpack, and saw that it was a typical, pre-made, 72-hour kit. He wondered how they were left alone with an emergency kit they probably didn’t know how to use, so he asked the boys, “Where are your parents?”

The older boy looked up and began to cry. Mark knelt down next to the kid and said, “Sage, please go get Lauren. I’m sure she’s worried about us. Bring her here, Sage.” He wasn’t sure if the dog would respond to his order and leave the boys, but after a quick, and much more reserved bark, Sage bounded away in the direction of Lauren.

“What’s your name?” said Mark, as he took a knee next to the boys. He wasn’t used to dealing with kids, at least not upset ones, so he had no idea how to sooth troubled emotions.

The boy sniffed loudly and said, while wiping his eyes with a sleeve of his jacket, “My name’s Andy. And this is my little brother, Archer. We’re waiting for our dad to come back.”

“Are you guys hungry or thirsty?”

“A little,” said Andy.

Sage came bounding back and went straight up to the boys, practically knocking Mark over as he shot past. He then quickly dropped to the ground so the boys could scratch his furry tummy. It was obvious to Mark that Sage was pleased with himself to find two such fun and willing playmates.

Lauren walked up, pushing her bike along, and said tenderly, and with complete compassion, “Oh, Mark. What did you find here?”

“Two strays, by the looks of it.”

“Hi sweeties, do you need some water?” said Lauren, and she lowered her bike to the ground and grabbed her water bottle. She then joined the group on the ground and added a few rubs of her own to Sage’s belly. “He’s just a big teddy bear, isn’t he?” she said to the boys while offering her water.

“Right,” said Mark quietly. “I’ll just go get my bike then . . . be right back.” No one seemed to notice Mark leave, and a couple minutes later, when he returned to lay his bike next to Lauren’s, she was holding the two boys as they cried in her arms.

Mark didn’t know what turned on the water-works, but he figured it was their feeling of abandonment. He was about to say something, but Lauren looked at him and gently shook her head. Mark took that as a sign to make himself busy, so he pulled out a small backpacker’s stove, and a half-full, collapsible water bladder, and began heating up water in an aluminum kettle. He figured instant chicken noodle soup, or even a cup of hot chocolate, would lift the boys’ spirits. And if not theirs, then certainly his.

Besides, he needed to do something to deal with his desire to move on. This was another challenging delay, and many harsh thoughts went through his head as he worked on the stove. He wondered what they would or could do about the boys. There’s no way they could take them along, and he began to consider the many different possibilities of handing them off to someone who could care for them.

Soon the crying stopped, and Lauren, in her expert way, managed to coax a story out of them without making them even more emotional. Mark listened as they talked, and he pieced together his own version of a story where a desperate and foolish father who, upon running out of gas, began walking toward the nearest possible hope.