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

The woman was wearing a military uniform, and she was talking to someone off to her side, someone Mark couldn’t see. He also couldn’t tell what she was saying. Mark was about to close his eyes and shake his head to clear his mind, to break the connection with the vision, when the woman turned to look at him. She stared right at Mark with her green eyes, and smiled. Mark felt he knew her, but figured it had to do with how much she looked like Lisa. The woman seemed to be waiting for Mark to speak, and he was about to say something when she turned away.

It was then that Mark noticed the patch on her left shoulder. It wasn’t an army patch, at least not one Mark was familiar with. It looked more like a law enforcement patch. And on it, written in sharp gold letters, was the word, “Austin.” The woman turned back to Mark and said, “I need your help.” Mark wasn’t a lip reader, but that’s what it looked like she said.

The vision began to fade and Mark dropped to his knees next to Lisa’s grave. He covered his face with his hands, and after taking several deep breaths in an effort to control his emotions, he began to sob uncontrollably. While he wept, he heard strong promptings to get up, to move on, but his grief was too powerful to ignore. Eventually, he calmed himself enough to stop sobbing and looked up into the dark sky. He rose to his feet and howled in anger, frustration and loss. Then, after a few more deep breaths, Mark said, “Good bye, Lisa. I love you, and I’ll see you again . . . I’m sure . . . if you can ever forgive me.”

After burying his remaining emotions, Mark applied what little energy he had left to surviving. He returned to the house and began preparing for a hasty departure. He decided to travel light, taking only the bare minimum of what he needed to survive on his own. From within the garage he loaded freeze-dried rations, a backpacker’s water filter and camp stove, a tactical hammock, two sets of clothes, wet-weather gear, a poncho and poncho liner, and other survival odds and ends, into the waterproof saddlebags of his hybrid commuter bike.

The bike was a cross between a road and mountain bike, and well suited for Mark’s escape plan where traveling light was a requirement. Everything he needed went into the bike’s primary saddle bags, but then he began loading additional supplies into the bag attached to his Oxtail bike trailer. Items such as water, additional food, ammunition, a field armorer’s tool kit, a small camouflage net, and other useful survival items, such as a .22, rounded out his traveling kit on the one-wheeled trailer.

Though the supplies seemed minimal by most people’s standards, Mark knew he could live with a lot less. As far as he was concerned, taking more supplies and equipment would only slow him down. Still, it was nice to have the bike trailer. It was the best way to carry the heavier supplies without troubling the balance of his cycling.

Mark looked at his watch and saw that it had been a little more than thirty minutes since he ran the gangbangers off, but he was almost ready to leave. He no longer cared about abandoning his fine collection of weapons, but they would remain locked up in the four large gun safes left standing in the back room. He also didn’t care if the gang could access the safes. He doubted they would be able to open them even if they had the proper tools.

At a minimum, they would need heavy cutting equipment; and then, more likely than not, they would start a fire inside the safe that would ignite the ammunition and powder stored within. If they did somehow manage to get the safes open, the weapons inside would be damaged and unusable.

Mark wheeled the loaded bike out through the garage’s side door, and leaned it up against the side of the house. He was ready to travel save for one last piece of business. He briefly considered booby-trapping the house, setting it up to explode with a propane tank when someone tried to force open the back bedroom door, but then he decided against it. For one thing, it would take him a half hour to set up the trap, and that’s time he knew he didn’t have. Instead, he decided to just torch the house.

Taking a can of white gas from the unneeded camping supplies in the garage, John quickly set two fires, one in the back room with the gun safes, and another in the living room near the slain gangbangers. Satisfied with the growth of the two fires, Mark quickly checked the street for signs of activity, and then returned to the garage to set the last fire.

After pulling on his ball cap, Mark mounted his bike and began peddling down the street in an effort to maximize the use of all remaining darkness before the sun started to rise. He wanted to be long gone before the gang returned, and he knew how vulnerable he’d be on his bike.

Pushing hard against the bike peddles in an effort to put good distance between himself and the neighborhood, he was soon far from his burning house. Mark didn’t even pause to look over his shoulder at the rising smoke and red glow that marked where his home stood. In the fading darkness that was quickly surrendering itself to morning light, he peddled onward.

Mark was several miles away, moving steadily down on a rural farm road, before he settled into a comfortable and more sustainable peddling cadence. He knew the area well, having peddled his bike through the area on countless workouts. For him, cycling wasn’t work, even when peddling to work. But he wasn’t peddling to work today. Instead of heading toward the hospital, he was heading north east, toward the City of Austin.

The Texas State Capital was some eighty miles away, but he made the ride before, though not under such extreme conditions, or with such a kit and curiosity. The woman in his waking dream, in the vision, continued
to call to him. That’s the best he could explain it, that she called to him. He had never before experienced such a bizarre thing. It scared him a little, but it also fascinated him. He didn’t know what he would find, or if he even could find her, but the woman who looked like Lisa had given him a reason to live, and he wouldn’t stop until he found her.

Experience told him that he’d reach Austin by around lunch time, that’s if nothing hindered his progress along the way. He wasn’t sure what he’d encounter, but he figured if he kept to the back-country ranch and farm roads, he’d make it without any problem.

How he was supposed to find the mysterious woman was another problem altogether. Still, the fact that the vision even occurred was something fantastic for Mark. He honestly didn’t know what to make of either issue, but he was still alive. He wasn’t ready to give up yet. And, for the woman’s sake, for Lisa’s sake, for his sake, he would find and help her. Like the vision, he trusted that he would know what to do, and when to do it.

As Mark peddled steadily forward, he once again wondered about Pete and John: what they were doing, what were conditions like for them, and were they also fighting for their lives? He didn’t know if he’d ever see them again, but he was, after all, heading north regardless. Maybe after finding the mysterious woman and helping her, he could head up to Belton and look for Pete, convince him to go with him to John’s.

The ride cleared his mind and allowed him to think for the first time in days. As the sun began to peek over the distant horizon, Mark slipped on his sunglasses and thought about Lisa. He avoided the firefight and instead settled on their good memories, of their hiking and biking expeditions together.

As Mark’s breath lightly fogged the cool air passing over his face, his rigorous peddling managed to keep his body warm. He knew that once the sun was up his ride would be more pleasant, but the fall weather, even with the sooty atmosphere above, was likely to remain pleasant all day. The strong feeling that this was a one-way trip - that he wasn’t returning to San Antonio again - actually motivated him to peddle harder.

Though he loved and missed Lisa, he decided he would not cry for her anymore. She was gone, free from the troubles of this world turned upside down. Yet there was something strangely familiar about the new woman. Something about her look, her confident behavior, spoke to Mark.

He thought about the mysterious woman as he peddled, and how good it felt to be moving, to be doing something other than fighting and burying and killing. “What a difference a few hours could make,” thought Mark. Everything had changed for him, and he was just beginning to appreciate what change could mean, how it could clean and teach, but also hurt.

Though more than twenty miles had passed, Mark figured he had at least four more hours of riding ahead of him before he reached the southern edge of the Austin city limits. How many more miles he’d have to peddle into Austin to find the mysterious woman in his vision was unknown, but at least he had something to live for. At least he had a mission, and it was a curious one at that.

He didn’t know Austin very well, but he believed he could find someone to help. If the woman was a soldier, then all Mark had to do was find other soldiers. But the patch threw him a bit, and he thought that maybe some cops could help. But one thing was certain, he couldn’t tell anyone he rode his bike up, all the way from San Antonio, just to find a woman who appeared to him in a vision.

Stranger things had happened in his life, but that was something he just couldn’t say to anyone. Mark knew that seeing someone in a vision was something that deserved caution, and for the first time in his life he wondered if he was losing his mind.

CHAPTER 2

EMBARKATION

P
ete contacted John over the radio to inform him that they made contact with the perimeter guards around the train, and said they were heading in to meet with Jeff. John acknowledged the message and reported that they would proceed as planned. Pete acknowledged John’s reply and the two old soldiers ended the transmission with routine precision. John smiled and winked at Jenna.

“You’re loving this, aren’t you?” asked Jenna.

“Huh? No, I’m just happy Jeff is back at the train. After leaving with Dillon and his sons . . .”

“Dillon?” asked Jenna.

“The rancher who owns the property on both sides of the tracks,” said John, while inching the Suburban over the edge of the bluff and slowly rolling it down the steep trail that led to the valley below. He paused and watched Paul do the same with Pete’s truck through the rearview mirror before turning his attention back to the dirt trail ahead.

“You were saying?” replied Jenna, when she saw that John was ready to talk again.

“Only that I was worried about Jeff. I think Dillon is a straight shooter, and all that, but people are not like they used to be,” finished John. “I was worried for his safety.”

“And you’re not the least bit excited to be on this little road trip?” persisted Jenna.

John looked in the review mirror to see Bonnie grinning back at him. “Bonnie, are you enjoying this conversation?”

“Well, I agree with Jenna. I know you guys . . . you and Pete are two peas-in-a-pod. You guys are having fun with this,” finished Bonnie, with a nod of her head toward the pasture out front.

“Wow. We’re only a few miles into the trip and I can already see I’m outflanked and outgunned. Can we agree not to pick on John during this drive . . . huh?” moaned John.

“Seriously, you think this is picking on you?” asked Jenna. “All I’m saying is that I . . . no, that we gave up everything,” she said with a credited nob to Bonnie. “We left everything behind for this trip, and I just don’t want you to be so darned happy about it.”

“Well, love. If you must know, I’m not happy about it either. In fact, I would like nothing more than to homestead right here in this valley, next to that train over there,” he said as he pointed toward the unseen train that remained hidden from view behind trees and rolling terrain. “We could make a pretty good life for ourselves with it, but you know what motivates me. I’ve seen where we’re going, and . . .” John was about to say, “With or without you,” but he stopped and instead inserted, “I’ve got to go. Besides, I know something’s coming that will change everything for people in this area, and if we want to live . . . we have to leave.”

Jenna rested a hand on John’s arm and said, “I’m not attacking you, hon. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just . . . I trust you, John. I really do.”

John shrugged and said, “I know I’m asking a lot from you guys, but I promise you, it’ll be better where we’re going. We just have to get there.” John looked at Bonnie through the rearview mirror and added, “It won’t be easy, but if we stick together we can make it.”

A short while later, John pulled up to the woods where they had parked the previous day, and Adam stepped out from the trees to greet them. He said, “Hey dad,” as he walked up to the driver’s window.

“Hey Adam. Jeff nearby?”

“He’s talking to Pete. I was told to come get you.”

John stepped out of the Suburban and waved Paul up. Paul jumped out of Pete’s truck and approached the Suburban at a jog while asking, “What’s up. Everything OK?”

“Yeah. Everything’s fine. Post a guard around the vehicles and I’ll be right back. What’s your fuel gauge at?”

“A bit under half,” replied Paul. “We gonna top off here?”

“That’s what I need to talk to Jeff about. I’ll be right back.” John turned to Adam and said, “Lead the way.”