A Letter From Chad

[puddlejumper007]

ahhhh that is it for now....i am not a very patient person i guess. thanks for the update will be watching for more. pat.

[bretf]

To all who’ve served, THANK YOU!!, and Happy Veterans Day!





A Letter From Chad



“Uncle Nick!” Hope Gomez called out when she saw the horesman approaching.

“Did you come to help us weed the garden? And why didn’t you bring Amber?” Amber was Nick’s four year old daughter. Hope was two years older than her, but they were closest in age of any of the young children in the area. There were children closer to each their ages in Cambridge, but the town was several miles away.



Alison Smoke harrumphed at the idea of Nick helping weed, and her sister Brooke said, “Fat chance!”



“Hey you two, I heard that,” Nick Robbins said. To Hope he said, “Her mom thought I might get home too late and didn’t want her to come along. Maybe I can bring her the next time I come up.



“And do you deny it? Brooke challenged Nick about her and Alison’s notion that he wouldn’t help weed the garden.



“Well … uh …” Nick stammered, “Actually I brought a crumpled up paper for you. I think it might be a letter from Chad and Carol.



Hope’s mother Heather rose up from where she’d been concealed behind the thick garden foliage. “Oh, a letter. And it’s just a coincidence you showed up almost at supper time,” she said.



“Hey, I resent that remark, I’ve been busy today. This is the first chance I had to come up.” Nick paused and fought to suppress his grin. “So is there any chance you’re having fried zucchini tonight?”



Heather barked a laugh and said, “As a matter of fact, I think that’s what Lisa’s working on right now. Would you like to stay and have some?” Her grin equaled Nick’s.



“Well how about that,” Nick said, his grin turning into a broad smile. “I suppose since you asked, it’d be rude to turn down your invitation.”



“Men, you’re all so predictable,” Heather said.



#



After the family and Nick settled around the table, Dan asked the blessing on the meal and everyone filled their plates. Heather was grateful for a bit of piece as her and Mat’s baby Jonah was asleep on the couch. Alison and Brooke both stared at Nick menacingly when the plate of zucchini came to him. He saw the looks and passed the plate on after taking less than he wanted. Heather flattened out the piece of paper Nick had given her and peered at it. It was a mess: crumpled, torn, stained, and had pieces missing. Heather squinted at the paper and said, “This isn’t going to be easy to read. There’s quite a bit missing or illegible, but here goes.





Hey everyone, we won’t be home for some time. Sorry it took so long to write, but we weren’t anywhere we thought a letter might get to you until now. Getting to Rock Springs was pretty easy, but once we were there, Carol wasn’t ready to come home. We didn’t want to stay there either. It’s a pretty rough place. So we decided to keep going. It was probably a mistake, because there’s not much through there, especially since we were walking.



“Wait a minute Aunt Heather,” Alison said. “Rock Springs? Isn’t that where they were heading for when they left?”



“Yeah, it was,” Heather answered. “I’m thinking this letter took a long time to find its way to us.”



“I should say so,” Brooke said. “But four years? Man. A lot could’ve happened in that much time. “But from his other letters, I guess a lot has happened.”



Lisa and Dan were quiet, their forks resting beside their plates, clutching each other’s hands.



At a nod from Mat, Heather started again. “So it’s hard to read for a while, but he mentions alkali water and antelope. Then there’s a section I can’t decipher anything but “Bighorn, Saddlestring, and I think it’s a name, maybe Joe Pickett. I have no idea what that’s about.”



“I do,” Dan said with a wry grin. “Joe Pickett was a fictional Wyoming game warden in a series of books I’d been reading. Chad only read the first two and of course he liked them because they tied in just enough hunting and fishing to interest him. I think they must’ve gone through the area where Joe worked. He knew I’d get a kick out of that.”



“All right, then I can see “Devil’s Tower” and not much more I can make out until near the bottom,” Heather said.



So we’re in Custer, South Dakota. We found . . . got married. Sorry you all couldn’t . . . the wedding . . . just us, the minister . . . wife, and God. We will spend the winter here . . . figure out where to go in spring. Love you all, Chad and Carol.



“That wasn’t much of a letter,” Hope said. “He told us all that before, except the part about Grandpa’s game warden. But I don’t get it. What’s a game warden?”



The adults, except for Lisa, laughed at the comment, and Mat explained about game wardens from before That Day.



As he was explaining, Lisa stood and Dan joined her. “Excuse me,” she said, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “I need to take a walk.” She started for the door, then paused and turned back to the table. “Yes Nick, you can have more zucchini.” She and Dan left the house, and walked slowly to their vantage point to see down the valley. They stayed there a long time, with much more to say than their standard evening prayer to bring Chad home.

[9idrr]

Thank you, bretf, and know that it's always appreciated when you drop one of these unexpected gifts here.

[motherhen]

Bretf, I was hoping for an update today, thank you so much!

[puddlejumper007]

Hey Bret, any chance of more letters from Chad, i will keep checking.. thanks pat

[bretf]

Hey Pat,

Chad and I were working on a new letter and got distracted.  Check in the "Stories as they are written" section. There is a recent thread called "Drifting Smoke".  (As in Chad Smoke)  The longer name is "Drifting Smoke, the Journey Home".

[bretf]

The Missing Letters – 1



Dear Mrs. Smoke,


You don’t know me, but I feel as if I know you and your family after having the extreme pleasure of spending time with your wonderful son (and shall I say) daughter-in-law for the past winter.


I’m sorry, but I’m getting ahead of myself, Lisa. (I apologize if it sounds too familiar to use your first name, but I swear to God almighty it feels as if I know you.) My name is Jeannie Williams and my husband Robert is the Lutheran Pastor in Edgemont, South Dakota. Your son Chad and his lovely friend Carol – praise the Lord she survived the smallpox – arrived at our town / encampment last fall. After they were vetted by our security force, they were allowed entry – supervised - into our town. My husband agreed to take them in.



You see, all visitors here must have a sponsor and Robert feels called by the Lord to help as many needful travelers as possible. It was a true blessing to have Chad and Carol here with us. You see, the daily grind is hard for Robert as aging takes its toll. Those two kids (I suppose I shouldn’t call them kids, but they seem so young, yet mature beyond their years) went right to work for us.


In short order they had the roof repaired. Following that, they prepared the garden for winter. They worked in manure, planted garlic starts, secured windbreaks and covered the remaining root vegetables with leaves to insulate them for the winter. They chopped and stacked firewood. We never had to ask them to do any of it; they saw the need and took care of it.


In the evenings following our meal, Chad played his harmonica and Carol sang along with him. At one point, Carol lamented the absence of Chad’s guitar. Robert recalled there was one in our church which hadn’t been used in years. He fished it out and your son created the most beautiful music with it. Neighbors began to come over each evening to hear and join in the music, until we had to move the gatherings to the church.


In between the work and music, we had long conversations. I’m sorry to say it, but Carol often became withdrawn when talking of their home. Haunted looks filled her eyes and occasionally her tears flowed. At last she opened up to me, but I know she held part of her story back. I so wish she could let it all out and ask God to help her heal. However, I could see positive changes in her from what she did reveal.


And then one day they approached Robert and I with the most serious expressions and said they had a request. I swear, my heart skipped a beat, afraid of what they were going to say. My dread instantly turned to glee when they asked if Robert would perform a wedding ceremony for them. It was very important to them – and I gather especially to you – that they be married in the eyes of the Lord.


Praise the Lord, but we all wept tears of joy as Robert said of course, he would be honored to do it. However old habits die hard and our evening conversations became counseling sessions on a long and healthy marriage. Robert would not perform the ceremony until he was certain they were truly ready for the commitments marriage entails.


I so wish you could have been here to witness the wedding, since I know as a mother how important such events are. But of course it was impossible.


Times are hard and the kids looked trail worn, but they were resplendent in their worn clothing, a happy glow surrounding them. I regret it’s also impossible to send you pictures, but of course photography is a thing of the past. So you will have to picture it in your mind’s eye instead. Chad was straight and tall, his shaggy hair and beard neatly trimmed. Carol stood beside him wearing a white shawl I loaned her, her hair glistening, her smile lighting the room.



By the way, Chad made such beautiful music from that old guitar, Robert gave it to him as a wedding gift. I pray others will be as blessed as we were by your son’s gift of music.



Your kids stayed with us throughout the winter, helping with procuring and preserving meat, keeping the house and church supplied with firewood, and any other chore they saw needed doing.


Spring arrived and Chad and Carol prepped the garden for planting and work was at a short lull. I was filled with sadness when they said they would be moving on. Some force was pulling them, and rather than going back to your home, they would continue in the opposite direction. When Robert and I inquired if they had a destination in mind, Chad smiled and said he’d always wanted to see Mount Rushmore. He hoped it was still intact and since we were so close they would go see it. He was sure his brother Mat and Aunt Heather would love to know if the iconic symbol of America remained.


I pray they have safe travel, and someday when they find what they are looking for (or outrun the demons pursuing them) the Lord returns them safely home to you.


I also pray this letter makes it to you.


Sincerely,

Jeannie Williams

[9idrr]

Damn, what a nice treat. Bret, you can keep sneakin' in new stuff whenever you want.

[arkansascob]

Dang bretf
kinda sneaky there aint cha. I was going to start a thread in the general board just to give you a shout out and let you know you was being missed. Decided to check your profile first and see when you was here last and what do I find but a recent addition to a story I thought was completed a long time ago.

What a pleasant surprise. Guess I need to venture into the completed stories section from time to time just to make sure they are really completed.

hope this is a sign that the Smoke Family is a stirring in your head and there are more stories and adventures in the near future. Shoot I'd even settle for a whole new family.

Hope to see more from you soon.

Take care

COB

[bretf]

Oct 17, 2018 8:57:16 GMT -6 arkansascob said:

Dang bretf
kinda sneaky there aint cha. I was going to start a thread in the general board just to give you a shout out and let you know you was being missed. Decided to check your profile first and see when you was here last and what do I find but a recent addition to a story I thought was completed a long time ago.

What a pleasant surprise. Guess I need to venture into the completed stories section from time to time just to make sure they are really completed.

hope this is a sign that the Smoke Family is a stirring in your head and there are more stories and adventures in the near future. Shoot I'd even settle for a whole new family.

Hope to see more from you soon.

Take care

COB

I’d been considering adding to this, but had been unsure how to approach it. Then it hit me to have the “missing letters”. I’m thinking of a few more I can throw out every once in a while, but it won’t be consistent postings.

[9idrr]

Oct 18, 2018 6:54:57 GMT -6 bretf said:

Oct 17, 2018 8:57:16 GMT -6 arkansascob said:

Dang bretf
kinda sneaky there aint cha. I was going to start a thread in the general board just to give you a shout out and let you know you was being missed. Decided to check your profile first and see when you was here last and what do I find but a recent addition to a story I thought was completed a long time ago.

What a pleasant surprise. Guess I need to venture into the completed stories section from time to time just to make sure they are really completed.

hope this is a sign that the Smoke Family is a stirring in your head and there are more stories and adventures in the near future. Shoot I'd even settle for a whole new family.

Hope to see more from you soon.

Take care

COB

I’d been considering adding to this, but had been unsure how to approach it. Then it hit me to have the “missing letters”. I’m thinking of a few more I can throw out every once in a while, but it won’t be consistent postings.

This is a great way to do it, as far as I'm concerned. Seein' anything about the Smokes show up brings a smile to my face.

[bretf]

Story disclaimer: I didn’t spend much time checking the other stories for conflicting info. If you catch some, I’d appreciate it very much if you’d let me know. Thanks to Ozarks Tom for help with this installment.


Dan, Lisa, Alison and Brooke Smoke
Mat, Heather, and Hope Gomez
Indian Valley, Idaho

Hi Everyone,

I hope this letter reaches you, and you’re all well at home.

For the time being we’re in the Ozark Mountains. You know, it was a place I always wanted to see after reading Where the Red Fern Grows. I keep listening for the bay of hounds but haven’t heard any yet. I have seen raccoons though, and we make them the guest of honor at our meals when we can.

We’re not in Oklahoma like in the book, we’re in Missouri. It’s still the Ozarks, although I think someone was being generous when they were named mountains. They aren’t anything like we’re used to, more like hills, although some are pretty big.

We picked up a new friend recently who said he’ll travel with us when we leave here. He’s been away from home for years and comes from Wenatchee, Washington, so close to you, can you believe it.

Chad put the pencil down and considered what to write next. He certainly couldn’t tell his parents how he’d met Larry Cooper. On the chance the letter did reach home, they’d just worry more if he shared the details.

#

“I think that looks like a good place to hole up,” Chad said. An hour of daylight remained and Chad liked to get their camp set up before dark. He and Carol had left the meandering road - he’d yet to see a straight road in the area as they wound their way through the hills - and were following a narrow game trail as it approached a plateau.

“It looks good to me,” Carol said with a heavy sigh.

Chad caught the tone and looked at her closely, concerned they might be pushing too hard in her condition.

She noticed the scrutiny and said, “I’m good, now as you said, let’s hole up for the night.”

Hole up indeed. A small cave was slightly visible in the thick brush and trees; a recess worn into the limestone plateau over time. They’d spent many nights sheltering in similar caves and recesses since entering the region.

The scene he gazed upon was foreign to him. The trees blanketing the hillsides weren’t anything like home, mostly oak and walnut, some of the walnut trees huge. Chad compared them to home. There were huge trees back home of course, but nothing like the ones before him. The trees at home, the towering trees at least, were Douglas fir and white pine in the mountains, and cottonwoods in the river valleys.

The hills he looked across were resplendent with fall color, hues of red, orange and yellow, splashed with green cedar highlights. The hills of home also had colors, patches of aspens and alders, thorn brush, cottonwoods, turning yellow and red in the fall, though mostly in the low lying valleys where water was present. The hills themselves were dominated by short brush and grasses, burnt brown, while the mountains were dominated by towering evergreens with colorful autumn highlights.

Mixed in with the splendor before Chad were numerous skeleton trees. Unfortunately, that was a familiar sight. Apparently, just like home, invasive beetles were wreaking havoc. It was amazing how so many undesirables had survived the nuclear winter.

The foliage might be unfamiliar, but Chad welcomed the nut trees as he and Carol passed through. Always foraging as they traveled, they collected nuts the squirrels hadn’t found and stashed away. Along with the walnuts and acorns, elderberries were abundant; the bushes anyway. Chad would’ve liked to harvest and dry some, but unfortunately, they were too late in the season for the berries. Leery of plants he didn’t recognize, he hoped to spend time with someone native to the area to learn about other edible plants.

As he and Carol foraged and moved through the region, all his senses were finely tuned. He’d learned it wasn’t only invasive insects, but two-legged undesirables were also thick in certain areas. Chad had seen signs to indicate their presence in the immediate area and had been especially careful.

He glanced at Carol, his incredible wife, and felt a flush of warmth. Her baby bump showed and it tore him apart inside to be on the move with her pregnant. He’d like to talk her into going home, but he wouldn’t, he couldn’t bring it up.

He wanted her to be somewhere safe for her pregnancy and the baby’s arrival, but home was too far away and they’d never make it in time. Not that she’d agree to go if he did say anything about it. Every time he mentioned going home, she got the haunted look in her eyes and had nightmares several nights in a row. He didn’t want her to go through it again, as the deep emotional wounds Rory had inflicted were still unhealed.

So they would wander, and with luck would find somewhere to stay long enough for Carol to have the baby and regain her strength. Chad held in the deep sigh he wanted to emit and asked her to stay and watch while he checked out their possible home for the night.

He closed his eyes, listening, smelling, tuning senses other than sight. Squirrels chittered in the distance and a bird called, a bird he wasn’t familiar with from home. It was answered from further away. He smelled leaves, wet with a recent rainfall, but nothing that seemed foreign. He opened his eyes again and looked all around before he moved to the dark recess in the plateau.

After he’d checked the small cave for occupants, Carol joined him in the shelter. It’d been used, but not recently. Best of all, there was a good collection of dried branches. He wanted a fire and didn’t want to create noticeable smoke by burning damp wood. He had a raccoon he’d killed earlier in the day and needed to cook, hopefully unobserved.

He and Carol took off their packs and Carol settled gratefully on the bulge which was her sleeping bag. “You sure you’re all right?” Chad asked.

“Yes, just tired. Give me a few minutes and I’ll set up camp.”

Chad studied her before he nodded. He took their battered cook pot out of his pack and said, “I’m going back to that spring we just passed.” Small streams and springs were abundant in the area, and unlike some places they’d been, the water tasted great.

He returned with the pot full of water and set it aside. Carol was working on their bed and he studied her for a few moments. He so wished they were somewhere safe. But they weren’t, so he’d have to make do.

Chad took a branch and his knife, shaved off slivers of wood, and mixed in cattail fluff from his fire kit. The fluff flared to life with the second stroke on his flint and he carefully fed shavings and twigs into the fire until he had a reasonable blaze going. He set the pot on rocks over the fire and took the raccoon out to prepare for the pot. He returned soon with the skinned, gutted carcass in hand. He cut the meat into pieces and put them in the heating water. While he did it, Carol completed setting their camp up.

“It looks like we’re good for now, so I’m going to work on the skin a bit,” Chad said. He fashioned a quick frame from branches and stretched the raccoon’s hide to it with paracord. Being careful not to cut through the skin, he scraped it with his knife. It wasn’t perfect, but it was as good as it was going to get under the circumstances.

He cracked the coon’s skull with a rock and scooped the brain out and put in in an old tin cup he carried. Carol dipped water out of the cooking pot and poured it into the cup. With a forked stick, Chad smashed the brain and mixed the water into it. It took several minutes of stirring before the strawberry colored paste was somewhat consistent. He reached into the cup with three fingers, scooped up a glob, and rubbed it into the hide, He was on his fourth scoop with they heard shots.

They were close, too close for comfort and he cursed silently. Before he and Carol left home, such an outburst, silent or spoken, would have had him remembering the taste of soap. His mother wouldn’t tolerate foul language and used a bar of soap to emphasize it with her children. But all the time and experiences on the road had pushed that reaction from his mind.

He grimaced and wiped his hands on the furry side of the coon skin, grabbed it and his rifle, and slid deeper into the cave. He wanted to curse again, holding the single shot air rifle instead of the AK47. Carol had the fire smothered by the time he was settled. “Down between the packs” he whispered. “If someone shoots in here, ricochets could go anywhere.”

He pulled his 9mm pistol free and passed it to her, along with the spare magazines. She extended the AK forward, and Chad was reaching to exchange with her when a man slipped into the cave’s entrance, panting.

“That’s far enough,” Chad said softly. “One more step and you’re dead.” He left the AK at his side, and aimed the air rifle’s muzzle at the center of the man’s chest. The stranger was perfectly silhouetted in the entrance, while Chad knew he and Carol were invisible from the man’s location.

The man uttered a curse, and despite thinking nearly the same thing moments ago, Chad whispered “Watch your language. I don’t appreciate that sort of talk in front of my wife.”

The man was quiet as he tried to see into the darkness. “Sorry Ma’am, I didn’t see you there. Now, can you let me get into this hole before those bas, er I mean men searching see me sitting here.”

“I’ve got a problem with that,” Chad said, keeping his voice soft and the rifle aimed directly at the man’s chest. “You see, I don’t know you from Adam, and maybe there’s a good reason you’re being hunted.”

The man sighed and said, “I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I’ve been away from home for too many years and trying to get back.”

Chad felt a twinge at the comment.

“I don’t blame you for not taking my word on it, I sure as he . . . heck wouldn’t. But unlike me, those guys hunting me are murders and rapists. I only kill people who deserve it.”

“So I was stranded in Afghanistan doing Uncle Sam’s bidding when the world went to hell.” He didn’t censor himself and Chad let it slide. “It’s taken me years to get this far and I want to see home again. And judging by your accent, I’m guessing you come from somewhere close to my home. My family was in Wenatchee, Washington the last I knew and that’s where I’m going. But those guys looking for me are about as agreeable as the Taliban and don’t want me to make it home.”

Chad wanted to believe the man, but he had caution bred by countless encounters.

The man continued to talk, quieter, but stopped when brush rustled outside.

Chad searched the brush for the source and what he saw made his stomach clench; the blue armband on the shaved head man easing past a massive walnut tree. He’d seen the wearers of those arm bands before and knew the stranger was right. If they were found, if they lived, Carol’s life would become a living nightmare.

Very quietly he said, “It’s your turn to trust me. When I say ‘now’ you need to flatten. I’m going to put a bullet right through the space your head is occupying. And if you do anything wrong, the second bullet goes into your head.”

The man gave a slight nod and the shaved head man saw him. “Now” Chad snapped as the bald man’s rifle came up. Chad squeezed the trigger, heard the satisfying splat as the bullet slammed into flesh, and the man crumpled with a cry of pain. There was a time that splat would’ve made Chad instantly sick, but it was far in his past, far away in Idaho. He made a quick rifle change, watching the stranger.

Rather than face Chad, he’d spun and faced away. At further movement, he raised his own rifle and shot.

Several shots answered and Chad felt fire in his side. The man at the entrance made a sharp grunt and returned rapid fire. The shots died off and all Chad could hear over the ringing in his ears was busting brush and groans.

“We’ve rattled them and the rest are backing off. I think it’s time I take the fight to them while they’re confused,” he said and slipped out of the cave’s entrance.

Chad stared at the vacant opening to their shelter, and jumped when Carol touched him. “You’re hit,” she said. “Let me see.”

His heart pounded harder from her unexpected touch than from the brief exchange of gunfire. He caught his breath and said, “It’s too dark and we’re not restarting the fire now. What about you? Are you alright?”

“I’m good. They all passed over me,” she said.

Relief flooded him.

A shot rang out some distance from their refuge, and was followed by several more.

Chad and Carol sat quietly and waited. As the adrenaline left his system, he began to feel the burn in his side more. Maybe he should let Carol examine it. “You’re sure you’re okay?” he asked to take his mind off his own wound.

“Yes, I’m good,” she said.

They both froze as brush rustled.

“It’s me,” the man from Washington said. “Can I come in? We don’t have to worry about that bunch coming back.”

Darkness was rapidly approaching and Chad wanted to look the man over before they lost all light. “Stay where you are and lower your rifle,” he said.

He eased out of the small cave, watching the man, but also behind him.

“I just wanted to let you know you don’t need to worry about those guys coming back,” the stranger said. “Maybe tomorrow their pack mates might wonder about them and come looking, but I think you’ll be safe for tonight.”

Chad studied the man. A bandana was around his upper arm and blood soaked the jacket sleeve. And though the man was wounded, Chad didn’t think he’d be able to defend himself even with the rifle if the man planned harm. He had a look about him like Mat, only more intense; a tightly coiled spring, ready to unleash violence in an instant. But he didn’t have another look Chad had seen in men, the blue arm band group only the latest. Chad didn’t detect the familiar look of malice and evil in the man.

“Afghanistan you said?” Chad said simply. He’d let the man talk and see if his story meshed at all with what Mat had told him. Of course Mat had made it home long before the pandemic and That Day.

“Yeah. I don’t know what you know about it there at the end, but as things were falling apart everywhere, pretty much everyone was pulled back to Bagram to evacuate back home. We got some intel on where Ayman al-Zawahiri was supposed to be, so a group of us went after him. We figured if we were leaving, we might as well take him out first.”

The man continued to talk, and it seemed legit to Chad.

“So anyway, we got the bast . . . him,” the man said, changing his words after a glance from Chad to the cave entrance. “On the same day Bagram went up in a mushroom cloud. So we had to make our way back to the States in a disintegrating world. There were only three of us left when we docked in Florida, and we split up soon after. My name’s Larry Cooper, by the way. And you are?”

Chad decided to trust the man. “Chad Smoke, and you were right, what you said earlier, about where we are from, although I don’t have an accent. Everyone else does. We’re from Idaho. So you’re sure we won’t have any trouble from those guys tonight?”

“Dead certain, if you know what I mean,” Larry Cooper said. “What brings you so far from home?”

Chad studied him a bit more and shrugged noncommittedly. He turned to the dark hole in the limestone wall. “Go ahead and start the fire, Carol. Mister Cooper was shot. We’ll need to be able to see it.”

“No Mister, call me Coop. But you don’t need to worry about me. I only wanted you to know you don’t need to be concerned about those goons. And to thank you. I appreciate you taking that maggot out that was behind me. Now I’ll go find a place of my own for the night. Besides, it looks like you’ve got your own wound that needs tending.”

“I insist Coop. Let us do what we can for your wound and share our supper with you at least,” Chad said.

It took more talking but eventually Coop gave in. “You don’t know how good it is to hear someone talking like they’re from home,” he said.

Chad winced with longing.

#

So we’re staying at a compound that sits on top of a plateau. It offers a good view all around and seems pretty safe. Luckily, well, foresight by the head guy Tom, the compound has a good well with a manual pump. But it’s a lot deeper than anything back home.

Tom, is a no nonsense guy. You do your share; you receive a share. Pretty simple. It’s not so bad, although Carol can’t do as much as she’d like.

I didn’t mention it yet, but by the time this letter reaches you, you should be grandparents. That’s why we’re staying in one place for a while. After showing we aren’t afraid of work, Tom said we can stay on until the baby is born and Carol is well enough to travel. What a relief. I was so afraid of something happening while we were on the move. Plus, he likes having our new friend Larry around.

Besides, it’s fall here. The weather isn’t too different than our old home, although it sounds like the snow doesn’t stay around as long and it doesn’t get as cold. Still, I didn’t want Carol traveling in it. It will be good to wait until spring or summer before moving on.

There are good Christian people here, with quite a few multi-generational families. But like everywhere, some real lowlifes live in the woods. These hills are pretty secluded, and there were lots of pot and meth production in the past. It’s funny, the soil is thin and needs a lot of nutrients and compost to grow a good garden, and there are rocks everywhere, some as big as bowling balls, but the pot growers always managed.

We’re always on the lookout for those guys. Apparently they liked the power they had and banded together in the absence of law and order. So the respectable people are also banding together and formed a sort of militia they call the “Bald Knobbers”.

#

“Even before things went to pieces, there were areas good people didn’t go,” Tom explained to Chad and Coop. “There were unnamed gravel roads leading into the hills, often ending at a cluster of old houses and trailers. We didn’t have a large population so they could be quite well hidden. All too often the people who lived there cooked meth and grew pot and weren’t too keen on strangers showing up.

“After the world went to hell, they didn’t like giving up such a lucrative trade, even though cash was worthless. What did hold value was food, women, and laborers. They mine the old cities for chemicals and have come up with some new dope. It’s more addictive and deadly than meth ever was. They steal women and make them sex slaves. They like to wear blue bands on their arms as insignia for the other low lifes. That’s why I grilled you so much when you showed up here,” Tom said.

“As I told you, we eliminated one cluster of them,” Coop said. “But as I’m sure you know, more will fill in for them.”

“Don’t I know it. They’re like fleas on a hound. No matter how many you find, there are more to irritate the dog,” Tom said. “That’s why I want you two in the Bald Knobbers.”

“The what?” Chad asked.

“Bald Knobbers. It’s an old term we revived under the circumstances,” Tom said. “The originals were a vigilante group in the 1800’s who formed up to restore law and order. They gave wife beaters a taste of their own medicine, burned out thieves, and helped out widows and children. You know, hard willed hill people Robin Hoods. Sometimes they may have taken things too far, but now, with the blue bands, I think elimination is our only answer.”

“I’ll do whatever I can,” Chad said. “I’d rather not worry about those guys when we move on.”

Tom nodded and looked at Coop with a question in his eyes.

Coop answered with his own nod.

Chad would be glad to have Coop watching his back. He’d shuddered when Coop told more of his story and couldn’t think of anyone he’d rather have with him. Well, maybe Mat. If everything Coop said was true, he was solid, a loyal American, and had left a trail of blood in Pakistan and Afghanistan.

“So in a few days, we’re taking the fight to them,” Tom said, “And I want both of you to go along. Now Chad, tell me about that rifle you have.”

Chad grinned and held the air rifle out for both to see. He could hear Mat explaining it to him all those years ago. Despite the grin, his eyes grew misty.

“Ah, this is my toy.” Mat held it out and admired it, and then handed it over to Chad. “You know boys and their toy guns. But as you found out, it’s not a toy, although some people would consider it frivolous. What you’re holding is a .50 caliber air rifle.”

“Chad, are you still with us?” Coop asked.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. So this is my brother’s toy,” he said. “You remember Lewis and Clark and the Corps of Discovery, right?” He explained and dug into the ammunition bag he carried as Tom and Coop looked over the rifle. He fingered the clay mold, a tire weight, and a bullet.

“What are you doing?” Chad asked Mat at one point. Mat had a handful of the clay mud they were using, and was forming it into a block.

“Experimenting,” he said. When he was satisfied with the block, he cut a line deep into it, all the way around it. That done, he made a cone shaped hole in the top of it. When it was done to his satisfaction, he set it in the direct sunlight.

“Did you put something in there?” Chad asked.

“Yeah, one of the air rifle bullets. I saw the wheel weights on the pickup tires and got to wondering something. Suppose you were away from here with that rifle, ran out of bullets, and didn’t have the molds. Could you improvise and make your own? I think it’ll work with a little fine adjustment on the slugs when they come out. But we won’t know until we try,” Mat said.

Chad was shocked. “So what, are you planning to leave?” he asked.

“No, it’s just a “what if” thought. But then again, I didn’t plan on surviving a nuclear war when I had this place built, and you know how that turned out. So it’s one more thing to consider; could we make bullets for that rifle if we had to without the regular molds? I don’t know, but I’d bet in parts of the country, bullets are pretty scarce now,” Mat said.

“I think it’ll work,” Dan said. “Good thinking.”

“Well I don’t ever plan on finding out,” Chad stated. He had no way to know in the future, he’d be grateful to Mat for the idea.

Mat! Dad! Chad sniffed and brushed at his face as he was flooded with emotion. He looked at the house where Carol was and knew it would be a long time before he saw his family again. He’d read somewhere duty was heavier than a mountain. His shoulders slumped under the tremendous weight.

He showed the clay bullet mold and explained how he made his own bullets while wishing they weren’t needed.

#

But we’re safe here, and there is a very good midwife. So we’ll stay through winter. I have no idea when we’ll get back home.

We love and miss you all,
Chad.

#

Chad tried to soak up the spots on the paper where his tears had fallen without smudging the writing. It wasn’t good, but it was better. And the last bit seemed so inadequate for what he felt. He folded the paper and put it in the envelope Tom had given him, sealed it and slipped it in his pocket. With luck, a lot of luck, someone would pass through going towards home, and the letter would eventually make it to its destination.

[9idrr]

Thank you, sir. As I said earlier, anytime I see you've written more Smoke stories it makes me grin. Makes for a nice, if too short, read for a rainy evening. You sure have a way of putting a lot of story in a few words.

[arkansascob]

Awesome. Thank You bretf for another fine chapter.

It's not far away so let me

Wishing You and your Family a very Merry Christmas and a safe and Happy New Year


COB

[texican]

Bret,

Got to read the Letters from Chad and Carol....

Didn't realize that there were several that I had not previously read....

A few Moar will always be appreciated by the Moar Hounds....

Thank you....

Texican....

[robmkivseries70]

Hi Brett,
I just found these, sounds like a good way to go with some more stories and a bit less pressure.
Best,
Rob

[bretf]

When I finished the original draft of “The Ashen Horse”, I was going to leave it that way, with the occasional letters as Chad and Carol wandered aimlessly from place to place. And then Chad started telling me he wanted to go home and have the story shared.
Going back through everything, I found the letters needed redone to make their travels and major events in a more linear fashion. This letter resulted from my decision and will combine new material with material that was previously posted.

A Letter from Chad

Brooke Smoke let the bicycle drift to a stop in front of the Hamilton post office and barter center. She turned and stuck her tongue out at her twin sister Alison and their friend Brian Sparks. “I don’t know why we have to come here first. Angie won’t have anything new to trade that we don’t already have. I’d rather come here after we’ve seen Sue and Joe.”

“Don’t you mean “seen Joe”? Anyway, you do too know why we had to come here first. And you know we have to check in with the Camps next. Mom insisted and you know she’ll ask everyone when she gets the chance. If we don’t do it her way this time, we’ll be banished to the house until we’re thirty,” Alison said.

“Oh, it can’t be that bad,” Brian said.

Brooke raised her eyebrows and shook her head sadly saying, “Unfortunately, she’s right. You only see her good side. After Chad and Carol left, we were like prisoners for more than a year. You have no idea how long we had to talk to get her to let us come without Mat.”

“Yeah, and if she hears we did anything on this trip she didn’t give her express permission to do, we won’t be back again any time soon. We might not even get to go to your house,” Alison said.

“Then don’t mess up,” Brian said quickly. “And explain to me again why I’m the one puling your trailer.”

Both girls turned their beautiful smiles to him and batted their eyebrows. “Because you’re so sweet,” they said in unison. “And not a bad kisser either.” They cracked up when he turned red.

“Um hum,” he said, unable to get out anything else.

“Come on you,” the girls said, each taking a hand and leading him into the building.

Angie looked up and said, “Hi guys, you must’ve gotten my mental message.”

Ali and Brooke looked at each other in question before they said in unison “Hi Angie. It’s nice to see you.”

They switched to tag team talking. They’d been talking in that manner for so long it was usually simple to complete the other’s sentence. But without practice, they couldn’t talk in unison in spontaneous conversations.

Alison, “No, we brought some”
Brooke, “Stuff from the garden.”
Alison, “And Mom was hoping”
Brooke, “We could get some”
Alison, “Flour, sugar, and honey.”
Brooke, “But what mental message”
Alison, “Are you talking about?”
Brooke, “I only get mental messages”
“From her,” they said again in unison, pointing at the other.

Angie looked at them in amazement. Even Brian was impressed, and he’d witnessed them practicing together to fool people.

When she was over her shock Angie said, “A traveler dropped off an envelope the day before yesterday for you. I haven’t heard of anyone going up your way so I’ve still got it. I think it’s from your brother.”

“Why do you”
“Think it’s from”
“Chad. You didn’t”
“Open it and read”
“It, did you?”

Angie shook her head in reaction to the twins’ style of questions as well as the question. “Un, no, I didn’t,” she said. “I think it’s from him because his name is on it.”

The girls looked at each other for several moments and Brooke said, “Ali, no. I want to go the Sue and Joe’s first.”

“Yes. You know what will happen if we get home with a letter and she thinks we dawdled in town. It’ll be worse than not doing what she says and her finding out,” Alison said.

“Oh all right. You know, at times I hate it when you’re right. Come on Brian. We have to get the trailer unloaded,” Brooke said.

“Brooke,” Alison said as her sister reached the door. “Brian and I can do it and trade with Angie. But you better be back soon.”

Brooke smiled and said, “Sure thing.”

Ali shook her head, knowing she and Brian would have to go find her. Something was happening to them she didn’t understand. Although they could still complete each other’s sentences, they were growing different. Maybe it was because of Brian . . . and Joe. She smiled and decided that had to be it. Leave it to boys to mess up a perfect relationship.

#

The family and Brian sat in the living room and Heather held the envelope. Nick Robbins also sat grinning, waiting to hear what the letter had to say. The girls had sent Brian to tell him when they passed his family’s home, knowing he’d be put out if he found out about it later.

Heather studied the envelope and said, “Like the others, it has his name in the corner, and Smoke – Gomez, Indian Valley, Idaho for the address.”

She opened it carefully and withdrew the folded papers.

Dear everyone,
I hope you are all doing well at home. We’re doing well, all THREE of us. Mom and Dad, I hope you’re sitting down, because you’re grandparents now. We have a beautiful son, named John, for Carol’s dad. Carol was worried that maybe the pox had done something to her, but he’s perfect! Sorry we can’t send pictures but check out the sketches on the other paper.

Heather looked at the second slip of paper in her hand, at the line sketch of a woman holding a baby. Whoever had drawn it had a great eye for detail. Carol was easily recognizable, although her features were those of a woman, not the girl any of them had last seen. She looked down at the bundle in her arms, enraptured. The baby had a puckered up face like he wanted his mother to turn him around and feed him rather than hold him for the sketch artist.

Lisa took the sketch, sniffed, and cooed, “Oh he’s gorgeous!”

Brooke and Alison looked over her shoulder at the drawing, turned to look at each other and shrugged. “It must be late summer where they are. That kid looks like he tried chokecherries for the first time,” Brooke said.

“Brooke, he’s beautiful,” Lisa admonished. She turned the paper over to see a sketch of John, peacefully sleeping. The image blurred as tears flooded her eyes. She held the paper out to Dan before she messed the paper up.

The paper was passed from person to person and Heather started reading again.

So having John sure makes things different, but we manage. We’re in Northern Texas now and wow, are parts of it flat. I wouldn’t believe it if I didn’t see it. We’ve been staying at a village for a few days, resting, stocking up, and figuring where we’ll go next. It’s funny, we perform for food and a place to sleep. I’ve been told there are a number of traveling musicians, minstrels they’re called around here. They go from village to village and trade music for food and lodging.

Wherever we go next, it won’t be east. There are interesting stories no one knows if they’re true or rumor. Anyway, it’s said President Morton and some government and military officials survived in hardened bunkers and are working to reestablish the country. Supposedly, they conscript pretty much every able bodied person they can (or don’t have killed). I’d like to see our country rise from the ashes, but I don’t want to leave Carol and John.

We don’t know when we’ll be home, but Carol is much more open to the idea now that we have John.

Love to you all,
Chad, Carol, and John

As was their custom anytime they heard form Chad, Lisa and Dan left the house hand in hand. Lisa’s face was wet with tears as they headed for their spot to look down the valley.

Mat looked at the papers spread out on the table. They’d been designing a second house and cutting timbers, anticipating the day Chad and Carol returned. Alison and Brooke wanted the entire process to go faster. They anticipated having the new house to themselves until their brother returned.

“So what do you think, Hon?” he asked Heather. “Do we need to change anything now that they’re parents?”

Brooke looked at her sister and said, “Knowing our luck, it won’t be done when they get back and they’ll get our room. We’ll be relegated to the shed.”

Alison winked at her and said, “Easier for Brian to visit without Mom and Dad knowing. Or Joe.”

[9idrr]

Thank you! This seems like I'm hearin' from old friends, even if the timing is a bit off. Bret, keep stringin' us along for as long as you want. It's always worth the wait.

[arkansascob]

Thank You bretf. Getting to read another chapter is like getting out own personal letter form Chad. Something to always look forward to and always a Great Joy when it arrives.

Thanks again

COB

[bretf]

When I finished the initial draft of “The Ashen Horse”, I didn’t have a plan for Chad’s return home. I figured I’d do “A letter from Chad” on occasion when something came to me, but that was as far as I could see in the Smoke’s future. Later, the idea for getting him and Carol home came to me and it became “Drifting Smoke”.



In going back through the entire story, I wasn’t happy with the letters and how they fit into the overall thread. I’ve redone them but never posted them. This came to mind today as I was working on a section of “Twin Trouble”. It made sense to me, but wouldn’t to anyone else.



Therefore, I’ve posted them in their re-written (and unedited) form in the “Letters from Chad” thread.

[bretf]

Ten Thousand Lakes



Nick Robbins saw the horse and rider on the Wilson Creek Road and walked up the driveway to intercept him. As he approached, Nick recognized him under his heavy coat and hat; it was Brian Sparks. It didn’t take a lot to figure out where he was headed. Brian had been spending a lot of time with Alison and Brooke Smoke. They were still young but were the only girls nearby close to his age.



Nick remembered all too well when he was Brian’s age and had seen Lori Wood in a new light. His head spun and his heart melted when he was paired with her as biology lab partners. Later, they’d married and he said the class was named wrong. They’d had great chemistry in that class.



Nick flashed Brian a grin as he reined his horse to a stop. “Hey Brian, it’s kind of cold to be out for a ride. Let me guess. You’re going to see Brooke. Or is it Alison?” he asked.



“Hey Nick, well, yeah I hope so,” Brian answered.



“Well, which one?” Nick asked. “Brooke or Ali?”



Brian turned red and said, “I’m not really sure. You know how they are. They mess with me so much that my head’s spinning whenever I’m around them. They’re always switching up on me, and for the life of me, I’m not sure which one I like best. Or which is which, for that matter. But anyway, we’re just friends.”



“Yeah right, so which one kisses the best?” Nick asked grinning more.



Brian’s face burned red. “Nick, I said we’re just friends,” he said. “But I wouldn’t mind finding out sometime.”



“I see,” Nick said.



Brian’s face turned a deeper shade of red and Nick laughed at his reaction.



“Well, have a good time visiting your ‘just friends’,” Nick said.



“I’ll try, if we have time afterward, anyway. It all depends, I guess. But if I do get time with them, I’m glad my horse knows his way home. My head will be spinning for sure,” Brian said.



“You know, I think that last part is the truest thing you’ve said yet” Nick said. “Now, what do you mean, if you have time after? What does it depend on?”



Brian tapped his chest. “I’ve got a letter for the family. It was brought over from Hamilton yesterday afternoon. It’s from Chad and Carol,” Brian said. “I didn’t have time to take it up to them then so I’m going this morning.”



“What? You have a letter from my best friend I haven’t seen for two years and you didn’t come right out and tell me? I should knock you off your horse and teach you better manners,” Nick said. “Does it say where they are?”



Brian shrugged and said, “Sorry Nick, I don’t know where they are. And well, my head was kind of spinning thinking about when I get to their place.”



“Oh Brian, you’re sad, dude. Now that those two have seen your weakness, you’ll never stand a chance with them. You won’t know which end is up once you get to their place. Well, come down to the house while I check in with Lori. Then I’ll saddle my horse and go with you,” Nick said. “I want to hear what Chad wrote, you know.” He turned and trotted back to the ranch house to tell his wife what was going on and see if she wanted to go along. Sometimes she did, sometimes she didn’t. It turned out she didn’t, she’d rather stay in the warm house. Nick could tell her later what letter said.



As Nick and Brian rode up the Wilson Creek Road, Nick asked, “So, did he use an envelope? Is there any indication of where it came from?” Nick was hoping it was loose papers.



Brian knew what he was alluding to. “Yeah, it’s in a sealed envelope so you can’t read it before we give it to his parents,” he said. “And it doesn’t have anything saying where it came from.”



“Dang! I miss the postmark from the old days. I wonder where they are,” Nick said. They rode on, Nick half-heartedly teasing Brian about the twins. He didn’t give it his best efforts as his thoughts were dominated by the letter. He wished he could open it and read it while they rode but knew he better not. He’d have to be patient, which wasn’t easy. It seemed the horses moved in slow motion and took way too long before the Smoke – Gomez home in the side of the hill came into view.



The dogs, Perro-Feo and Lindy, ran up and barked at them, not quieting until Nick spoke. When they recognized the riders they switched to wagging their tails. Lindy turned and ran back to the shed. Watching her go and stop beside a man, Nick noticed Mat for the first time.



They had to get closer before it became clear what Mat was doing. A wild turkey was suspended from a rafter of the lean-to and feathers littered the ground beneath it.



“Hi Mat, been hunting I see,” Nick said.



“Yep, it wouldn’t be Thanksgiving without turkey, would it? Hi Brian, how are you?” Mat said.



“Thanksgiving?” Nick asked.



“Hi Mat,” Brian said.



Mat chuckled and said, “Yeah, according to our calendar Thanksgiving is tomorrow. We might be off a day or two after all this time but we’ve kept pretty good track since That Day.”



“That Day”: the day Russia and the United States had destroyed each other with nuclear weapons. Combined with the smallpox pandemic, it had shattered modern civilization.



“What brings you guys up here, besides your horses?” Mat asked.



Nick had heard the question many times.



Brian tapped his chest and said, “I have a letter from Chad and Carol. It was dropped off at our place yesterday afternoon.”



Mat’s hands froze for an instant before he rubbed them together, brushing feathers off. “Why didn’t you say so? It’s cold enough this bird can wait. Tie your horses and let’s get in the house.”



In a few minutes, everyone was settled around the house, Nick, Brian, and Mat all with steaming mugs of rosehip tea in their hands. Hope sat next to her dad, as anxious as everyone else to hear the letter although she didn’t remember her uncle Chad.



Heather cleared her throat and started to read.



Spring



Hi everyone. I hope you’re all doing fine. We’re not sure when we’ll make it home but we aren’t ready to head back yet. We’re in Minnesota and you wouldn’t believe it. Water is everywhere; lakes, ponds, marshes. Nothing like home. It’s a lot flatter, too, though there are rolling hills like we had close to our old home. But where our hills were dry and bare, the ones here are covered with hardwood forests. It’s really pretty in the fall. That’s when we got here and stayed since winter was close. In winter, it’s mostly white.



Because of all the water, they eat a lot of fish, a lot more than we did at home. And they fish year-round. The area we’re at was a good distance from the cities so didn’t have too much trouble during the bad times. Some though. There are lots of family farms so it feels a lot like home, although it took a while for them to trust us. Each little town has their own traditions depending on where the original immigrants came from. It’s pretty educational.



We’ve learned a lot about the different groups: Norwegians, Swedes, Germans, Finnish people. That’s sure different than home. Because of that, we hear a lot of different accents but they say Carol and I are the ones with the accents. But everyone we’ve met are good, hard-working people. Of course, you have to be or you can’t make it. Well, except for a lot of the leeches that have taken over in many of the cities, so we always avoid cities. Everything we hear, the cities are bad. It’s terrible how people are. You’d think between the pox and the nukes and starvation, enough people had died but I guess not.



Mat, you were right to have us take your air rifle. It’s next to impossible to come up with ammo for the AK, so we use the air rifle most of the time. A lot of people use bows too, mostly homemade ones. A guy showed me how to make a longbow, so I made two, and Carol and I have been learning to shoot them. It never hurts to have different weapons out here.



We’re done going east, so when we leave, we’ll swing south before we start towards home. You know, I’ve wanted to see the Ozarks ever since reading Where the Red Fern Grows. If we don’t see that area now, we probably never will. I’ve heard the area fared decently too. Well, I’m out of room on this paper. We’ll write again when we can.



Love you all, Chad and Carol



Mat was quiet, his mind going over what Chad didn’t say. It was troubling to think of them so far from home and the cities infested with “leeches”. The stories they heard from the rare traveler made it seem like too many parts of the country should be avoided. Maybe he should have tried to prevent them from leaving in the first place. But none of them could go back, so all he could do was hope they stayed safe.



Alison broke the reverie. “I’m going outside. Are you coming Brian, Brooke?”



Red-faced, Brian said, “Sure I’ll go outside.”



Nick laughed, receiving questioning looks from Mat and Heather.



Lisa watched the three of them go outside and walk down the trail to the shed.



Mat stood, smiled, and said, “You know, this house is going to be pretty tight when they get back. We should give thought on what it would take to add on or build a complete second house. But it’ll wait. I’ve got a bird to get ready to cook. Hope, do you want to help me? We have even more to be thankful for now.”

[bretf]

You Can Pick Your Friends



Chad Smoke peered into the swirling snow, searching for movement in the white landscape but unable to detect any in the muted gray light. Snowflakes landed on his face, in his eyes, making him squint into the gloom. He shifted his position slightly, trying not to dislodge the snow that had accumulated on his poncho. The more that covered him, the less he’d stand out and he didn’t want to stand out. He needed to blend with the landscape even though it would be full dark soon. The raiders he and the other men were pursuing were sure to have watchers out so he would have to stay alert and rely on everything Mat had taught him, as well as what he’d picked up after he and Carol started drifting.



Drifting from one place to another, always drifting. His mind drifted. He and Carol were drifting with the wind, just like the snowflakes. It felt like that was all they’d done since Rory Young had attacked her and set them on their path.



It had taken time, but Carol had eventually returned to her old self and told Chad everything that’d happened. He’d been filled with white-hot rage even though he’d always been certain Rory was at the heart of it. On the chance Mat hadn’t dealt with him yet, he wanted to turn around on the spot, to go back home and end it with that slime once and for all. But any time he mentioned going home, Carol descended back into her depression. So they drifted further while he fantasized of the day he returned home and all the things he’d do to Rory. The things he’d learned on Nick’s ranch watching Al with his sharp knife working the bull calves would be a good place to start. But that would only be the start. Next, he’d . . .



But no, that was something Rory would do and he wouldn’t lower himself that much, not to that level. Instead, he’d find Rory and confront him face to face. And kill him and be done with it. Just like he would have to do if they were able to overtake the band of raiders they were following. Chad squinted back into the snow trying to keep his mind on task.



But it was hard, so hard to stay focused as he waited for Jeff Foley to return. Foley had scouted ahead while Chad stayed with the other three villagers they’d accompanied into the storm. He found it impossible to stay focused while Carol was at the village and he was miles away from her in the storm. He prayed silently that she was safe. It tore him apart leaving her while he went after the raiders. What if the raiders had counted on pursuit and had more men hiding and waiting for the village to be more vulnerable? He didn’t think it would happen, but he couldn’t shake the thought once it came. So he prayed that she was safe and Foley would return soon with positive news.



Soft sounds behind him drew his attention, snow being compressed under feet, steady footballs, not those of someone trying to sneak or rushing him. Continuing to look into the falling snow, he waited until the man stopped beside him.



“Hey Smoke, we’ve got food and drink warmed up back in the hollow,” the man said softly in his ear. “Go down and get some and I’ll stay here and watch.”



“Thanks,” Chad said equally quiet. “I haven’t seen anything move but snowflakes.” He turned, glad to not be looking into the wind with its ever-present snow any longer and followed in the man’s tracks to the hollow where the others waited. As he moved along, he was pleased that he didn’t see the flame or smell the smoke from the men’s fire. They were well versed in staying hidden. By the time he reached them, the tracks he was following had partially filled with snow. Hopefully, Foley wouldn’t lose the trail and would be able to get back to them without problems.



A well-tanned cow hide was set up as a lean-to keeping the wind off the men and their small fire. A pile of brush on the other side of the fire reflected heat towards them. Chad knocked the snow from his poncho and removed it. Then he settled into the open space and one of the men held a tin cup out for him. He wrapped his mittened hands around the cup. The heat sent pinpricks of sensation through his cold fingers and he sipped, the liquid bitter with chicory root. “Thanks, Ted,” he said.



“See anything Smoke?” Ted asked.



“No, nothing’s moving in this storm,” Chad answered.



The second man turned the stick he held towards Chad, a piece of seared meat on the end. The grease from the mutton ran down Chad’s chin when he bit off a chunk. He wiped it with the back of a mitten and chewed in silence.



“Well, I’m gonna try for a little shut-eye then,” Ted said and bent his head over and closed his eyes. The other man glanced at him and decided he had the right idea, and closed his own eyes.



Chad ate the meat and drank the chicory coffee in silence, relishing the heat, his thoughts on Carol and home. When he was finished, he stared out into the storm while soft snores echoed in the shelter from the other men. He envied them in a way, able to sleep despite what they faced. They’d pushed hard and desperately needed the rest considering they’d soon be in a fight to the death. It amazed him how accustomed they seemed to what was coming, to raids and skirmishes. It was just another day to them. It had become acutely obvious the further he and Carol drifted how well they had it back home. It was a harsh world and had become increasingly dangerous the farther they went from the Rocky Mountains.



He continued to look into the storm, unable to shut his mind off so he could also nod off. Carol and what he faced overwhelmed his thoughts. What if he didn’t survive? What would happen to her so far from home? Alone.



If he made it back to the village, he’d have to bring up going home again. At least if something happened to him at home, she would still have the rest of the family to help her. But halfway across the county in a strange land filled with strange people and danger everywhere, he was afraid of what would happen to her if he was gone. Whatever it took. “Oh Carol,” he murmured. “I’m so afraid something’s going to happen and you’ll be left on your own.”



Digging into an inner pocket, he pulled out a stub of a pencil and a clump of folded papers. The fire was small but it cast enough light for his purposes. Smoothing one of the papers out the best he could, he wrote,



My Dearest Carol,



If I don’t return from this mission, I needed to make sure you know how I feel about you since I sometimes have trouble expressing my feelings. But here goes. You’ve made my life whole and I love you more every day, more than anything. I want nothing more than to spend my life with you, doing everything I can to make you happy.



To see your lovely face light up in a smile, I can’t help but smile as well. I love to lie next to you and see you sleeping peacefully, to wake up beside you. I love to see you and hear you sing the old songs, that special moment when one of your dad’s songs touches you. I want to comfort you, to protect you and to always be there for you. If I don’t make it back, I want you to know that and that I’ve always loved you.



I want to be with you, step by step and hand in hand as our future children grow up under your loving care.



Chad looked at the paper, wanting to say so much more but not able to come up with anything. Maybe something else would come to him. He put another paper on top of the one he’d been working on and started another letter, one to his family so far away they might as well be on another world.



Merry Christmas everyone, though this letter won’t get to you anywhere around Christmas but maybe it will by next one. I hope you’re all well. It’s cold here and I miss the wood stove and how comfortable the house always was in winter. You know the song, ‘White Christmas’? We sure have one. It’s a literal white-out.



He stopped writing, and like always when he wrote, considered how much he should tell them. His mom was sure to be worried, and he didn’t want to add more to it if he could help it. But the feeling of dread wouldn’t leave him, the feeling that the encounter he was facing wasn’t going to end well. He put the pencil back to the paper.



I’m helping out some of the people at the village we’ve been staying at. A group of folks got lost, and a small party of us are looking for them in a snow storm. The locals tell me it’s not a blizzard, but from my point of view, it can’t be far from it.



Of course, it was a big exaggeration, the people getting lost part. Four women and six kids had been taken by raiders, slavers most likely. He recalled the story his dad told every year at Christmas and John McCutcheon’s touching song ‘Christmas in the Trenches’. It felt something like that, like a form of trench warfare but he didn't think this night would end with an impromptu soccer game and gift exchange. He refocused on the paper.



I should say I don’t just miss the stove. I miss home and all of you. Very much. I’m hoping that. . .



He caught himself before he wrote, “If I get back”.



When I get back to the village I can to convince Carol we have to head home and try to start that way when the weather is good enough to travel. I –



Snow crunched outside the lean-to and Chad cursed himself for being so wrapped up in his thoughts that someone had approached him undetected. Plus, his vision was shot from the firelight. Scrunching the letters in his left hand, he stared into the blackness while he wrapped his hands around his rifle.



“You aren’t plannin’ on shootin’ us are you Chad?” came Jeff Foley’s easy drawl.



“It crossed my mind,” Chad said when his breathing was under control. “But I guess I better not.” He flattened the papers, folded them, and put them and the pencil in his breast pocket.



Foley stepped into the circle of light cast by the fire, followed by the man who had relieved Chad. He nudged the sleeping men and with everyone paying attention, he told them what he’d found and accompanied it with a rough diagram in the snow.



“They’ve got a pretty good location in a low spot with a bunch of trees. They met up with another group so we’re looking at tough odds. But the good thing, they think the storm will hide them. They only set one guard out and I watched him have several pulls from a flask before I left. Now, this is what we’re going to do. We’ll move into position in the dark and hit them at first light when you can see well enough to hit what you’re shooting at. I’ll go . . .” Foley laid out his plan, marking the location for each of the four men around the raider’s camp and explaining everyone’s role.



Chad was mute watching and listening. He didn’t know all of Foley’s background, but he’d once said he had been part of a team that had to do wet work from time to time before the world went to hell. He’d only been further hardened after the collapse. Chad didn’t ask for any details on what that meant, but after being around him for a while, decided that Mat seemed like an altar boy in comparison.



It was obvious they couldn’t allow the men they were pursuing to live but he couldn’t feel comfortable with Foley’s plan. It was a harsh world and he longed for spring and the snowmelt, so he could get Carol on the road for home. He had to get back home before this sort of thing hardened him so much that what they were going to do failed to bother him any longer.



“Any questions?” Foley asked and looked at each of the men. When none came, he said, “All right. We’ll rest another three hours, then pack up and move out.”



While the men settled back under their lean-to cover, Chad pulled Foley aside. “Jeff, I’ve observed you a lot since I’ve been here and I think I can trust you. So, well, I’ve got a bad feeling and I want you to do something for me.”



Foley kept silent. He’d heard it all before when younger men went into a tough battle. And sometimes their gut feel turned out correct but sometimes it didn’t.



“So, anyway, if I don’t make it back from here, I want you to do what you can to find someone safe who can get Carol home for me, back to Idaho, to Indian Valley,” Chad said.



Foley studied the earnest young man silently. He needed reassurance. “You’ll do fine Chad. You’ve got a dang good head on your shoulders and you’ve got notable skills. You don’t have anything to worry about.”



Chad reached into his pocket and pulled out the papers and held them up. “Please Jeff, it feels wrong to me. Promise me you’ll take care of her and give her these letters,” Chad pleaded.



Foley wrapped one of his hands around Chad’s, the one with the papers. “You can give those papers to Carol yourself, but IF something happens to you, I’d be glad to take care of them for you and do all I can to arrange for her to get back home where it’s safe,” he said. “Now put those in your pocket. We need to rest up before it’s time to move out.”



Chad studied Foley’s face, an all but impossible task in the lack of light and did as he was told.



#



Even though Chad had traveled for a long time and witnessed too many instances of what he considered savagery, he was amazed at what he witnessed. It was a different world than home. Life was cheap and Jeff Foley’s actions chilled him to the bone.



Foley was a silent shadow moving from bedroll to bedroll, his long-bladed knife, making short work of the sleeping shapes. Chad was amazed and aghast at the same time at the quiet efficiency. A shadow moved off to his right, one of the men he was with, apparently wanting to be part of the action. Chad was glad for the muted light of the early morning, sure he would be sick if he could see everything. Foley’s knife flashed and he moved on to the next bedroll.



When pandemonium erupted in the camp, it was from the last place Chad would have expected. Foley passed too near one of the captives and his shrill shriek of terror rang through the silent morning. Chad saw another man with a rifle jump up and hesitated for an instant. What if Carol was amongst the captives, or Alison or Brooke? He centered his sights on the man and squeezed the trigger. Moving the rifle to the next man, he squeezed off another round, and did it again, and again until his squeeze was met with an empty click. Looking at his rifle in alarm, he saw he’d emptied his magazine and everyone in the encampment was down, except for Foley and the shrieking captive.



“HOLD YOUR FIRE!” Foley yelled, his command voice stopping the other men who had accompanied him. “IT’S DONE!” he added.



Chad shook his head, trying to clear his mind and focus. After he had a fresh magazine in his rifle, he rose and approached the camp slowly. It took all his willpower to keep moving forward and not stop and vomit. Bodies were strewn everywhere, the fresh snow stained bright red with blood. He didn’t want to consider the number of dead from his bullets. A foul stench hung in the air as bodily fluids were released. The snow had stopped falling and the morning sun seemed unnaturally bright, reflecting off the surrounding white. The idiot who’d triggered the firefight looked all around, at the bodies, at the approaching men, and shrieked again. Chad wished the fool would shut up. If he didn’t stop, Chad was ready to thump him.



Still dazed from everything, he neared the camp, intent on shutting the idiot up if he made another sound. As he got close, a man on the ground rose, bright red blood running from a gash on his head, his rifle in his hands. Chad saw it all in slow motion. The man raised the rifle, turning the barrel towards Foley. Chad aimed his rifle at the man and pulled the trigger. Over another shriek, he heard the click as the round in the chamber didn’t fire. He threw himself at Foley and felt searing pain as he knocked Jeff aside and fell to the ground.



“SMOKE!” someone yelled over the answering gunfire and mercifully the shrieking stopped.



“What? What did you say?” The shrieker asked as Ted knocked him aside running to Chad.



“Smoke, are you all right?” Ted asked, kneeling in the snow beside him. Ted had to pull Chad’s right arm away from his chest, where it was clamped over a growing red stain on his coat.



“Why did you call him Smoke? That’s my last name,” the shrieker said. He’d gotten to his feet and looked in wonder at Ted and Chad.



Ted ignored him and opened Chad’s coat and shirt. A nasty gash of torn flesh crossed Chad’s chest and ugly red holes marked each side of his upper arm. Blood was flowing freely, but Ted thought the brachial artery and the bone had been missed.



“Smoke is my last name,” the man behind Ted repeated. “I’m Howie Smoke. Is his name Smoke too? Is it his first or last name?”



“Find me something for a dressing,” Ted ordered. “I need to slow this bleeding.” Howie Smoke stood motionless.



Jeff Foley held out a piece of cloth, none too sanitary, and Ted took it and covered the wound in the chest. Foley kept an eye on the rest of the raiders and didn’t see anyone else moving. He ripped a piece of shirt from a still body and handed it to Ted.



“Are you going to take us home? I want to go home,” Howie Smoke said.



Foley leveled his gaze at Howie, and stated, “If you don’t shut your trap, I’m going to shut it for you.”



“But I just want –”. He didn’t complete the sentence. Instead, he found himself on his butt in the snow, rubbing the side of his face where Foley hit him.



Foley barked orders to the other two men and looked back at Ted. “What do you think?” he asked.



“He’s going to hurt, but he’ll live. We’ll have to sew him up when we get back home,” Ted said.



“I’ve got a sewing kit in my pack. Might as well do it before the real shock of it wears off,” Foley said.



Chad couldn’t imagine what it would have felt like later since it hurt like hades as it was. After Foley smeared a glob of foul-smelling goo on his wounds and started sewing, he wanted to scream every time the needle pierced him. In an attempt at distraction, he looked at the fool who’d alerted the raiders, and through clenched teeth said, “So, your last name’s Smoke huh? Mine too. Where you from?” He grimaced and groaned as Jeff stuck the needle in him again and pulled the thread through.



“I’m from Chicago, well, I was before, you know,” Howie said.



Chad twisted his face at another stick of the needle. “Really?” he hissed. “My dad had a brother in Chicago, Del Smoke.”



Howie’s eyes lit up for a moment before a look of sadness replaced it. “My dad was Del Smoke, but I’m pretty sure he and my brother Mike died from the nuke. Are you Dan Smoke’s kid? That would make you my cousin.”



Chad groaned and it wasn’t only from the needle going into his raw flesh. This fool was his cousin? Oh Lord, he wanted to go home.



Chad’s shirt pocket was covered in blood and Foley pointed at it. “I’m not sure Chad but you might not want to give that letter to Carol the way it looks from here,” he said.



With his good hand, Chad fished the papers out, soaked in his blood. “You’re probably right. When you’re done, we need to throw this in the fire.”



#



Carol saw Chad’s arm secured in place and the stains on his coat the moment the group got through the compound gate. Her face turned white, matching the snow and her hand flew to her mouth. Heedless of everything else, she ran to him. “Chad, you’re hurt!”



Involuntarily, he flinched expecting a hug, but she held back. “Yeah, I am. And Carol, I can’t handle this anymore. We’ve got to go home.” He’d explain his new shadow, Howie, later. That story could wait. This couldn’t. “This is too much for me. I’m afraid if we stay I’ll get jaded and callous to all of it. I don’t want to go kill a bunch of guys like it was business as usual. What I did today, what I saw, I can’t handle it.” His face twisted with pain and it wasn’t from his wounds. “The people here, they’re used to it, but I don’t want that. It tears me up inside. And what if this had been worse? If that bullet had hit me two inches further over . . . you . . . Carol, let’s go home.”



Her face transformed into the terrified mask, the frightened animal look. It used to be constant, but he saw less and less of it as time passed. But he’d made her wounds fresh and raw all over again. While fighting her demons, she studied him, the torn coat, stained dark from his blood. The arm immobilized in front of him. More revealing was the torment and anguish written all over his face. “Chad, I can’t, not yet. But as soon as the snow is gone and we can travel, we’ll leave and try to find someplace more like home,” she said. Wrapping her arm around his good side, she walked with him to their hut.

[bretf]

The Bald Knobbers



Dan, Lisa, Alison and Brooke Smoke

Mat, Heather, and Hope Gomez

Indian Valley, Idaho



Hi Everyone,



I hope this letter reaches you and you’re all well at home.



For the time being, we’re in the Ozark Mountains. It’s a place I always wanted to see after reading Where the Red Fern Grows. I keep listening for the bay of hounds but haven’t heard any. I have seen raccoons, though, and we make them the guest of honor at our meals when we can.



We’re not in Oklahoma like in the book, we’re in Missouri. It’s still the Ozarks, although I think someone was being generous when they were named mountains. They aren’t anything like we’re used to, more like hills, although some are pretty big.



We’ve been traveling alone again. Cousin Howie decided we have too many differences and he wanted to settle down. He stayed at a place north of here that seemed okay. We did, however, meet a new friend recently who took us to his compound and arranged for us to stay on as long as we want.



Chad put the pencil down and considered what to write next. He certainly couldn’t tell his parents how he’d met Kevan Miller. On the chance the letter did reach home, they’d worry more if he shared the details.



#



“I think that looks like a good place to hole up,” Chad said. An hour of daylight remained and Chad liked to get their camp set up before dark. He and Carol had left the meandering road - he’d yet to see a straight road in the area as they wound their way through the hills - and were following a narrow game trail as it approached a plateau.



“It looks good to me,” Carol said with a heavy sigh.



Chad caught the tone and studied her, concerned they might be pushing too hard in her condition.



She noticed the scrutiny and said, “I’m good, now as you said, let’s hole up for the night.”



Hole up indeed. A small cave was slightly visible in the thick brush and trees; a recess worn into the limestone plateau over time. They’d spent several nights sheltering in similar caves and recesses since entering the region.



The surrounding scenery was foreign to him, starting with the limestone instead of granite or basalt. Next was the lush vegetation. The trees blanketing the hillsides weren’t anything like home. They were mostly oak and walnut, many of the walnut trees huge. Chad compared them to home. Huge trees grew back home of course, but nothing like the ones he gazed upon. The trees at home, the towering trees at least, were Douglas fir and white pine in the mountains, and cottonwoods in the river valleys.



The hills he looked across were resplendent with fall color, hues of red, orange and yellow, splashed with green cedar highlights. The hills of home also had colors, patches of aspens and alders, thorn brush, cottonwoods, turning yellow and red in the fall, though mostly in the low-lying valleys where water was present. The hills themselves were dominated by short brush and grasses burnt brown, while the mountains were dominated by towering evergreens.



Mixed in with the splendor before Chad were numerous skeleton trees. Unfortunately, it was a familiar sight. Apparently, like at home, invasive beetles were wreaking havoc. It was amazing so many undesirables had survived the nuclear winter.



The trees might be unfamiliar but Chad welcomed the nuts as he and Carol passed through. Always foraging as they traveled, they collected what the squirrels hadn’t found and stashed away. Elderberry bushes were also abundant, they were familiar from home, but it was too late in the season for the berries. He was sure more than nuts and the few plants he recognized could be gathered to eat but he wouldn’t chance it. Leery of plants he didn’t recognize, he hoped to spend time with someone native to the area to learn what other plants were edible.



As he and Carol moved through the region, all his senses were finely tuned. He’d learned it wasn’t only invasive insects, but two-legged undesirables were also thick in certain areas. He’d seen signs to indicate their presence in the immediate area and had been especially attentive.



He glanced at Carol, his incredible wife and felt a flush of warmth. Her baby bump was prominent and it tore him apart inside to be on the move with her pregnant. He’d like to talk her into going home but he wouldn’t, he couldn’t bring it up.



He wanted her to be somewhere safe for her pregnancy and the baby’s arrival, but home was too far away and they’d never make it in time. Not that she’d agree to go if he did bring it up. Every time he mentioned going home, she got the haunted look in her eyes and had nightmares for several nights. He didn’t want her to go through it again as the deep emotional wounds Rory had inflicted were still unhealed. So they would wander, and with luck would find somewhere to stay long enough for Carol to have the baby and regain her strength.



Chad held in the deep sigh he wanted to emit and asked her to stay and watch while he checked out their possible home for the night.



He closed his eyes, listening, smelling, tuning senses other than sight. Squirrels chittered in the distance and a bird called, a bird he wasn’t familiar with. It was answered from further away. He smelled leaves, wet from a recent rainfall. Detecting nothing that seemed foreign, he opened his eyes and looked all around before moving to the dark recess in the plateau.



After he’d checked the depression for occupants, he made a bird call to signal Carol. She joined him in minutes. It appeared the shelter had been used but not recently. It also contained a good collection of dried branches to his satisfaction. He wanted a fire and didn’t want to create noticeable smoke by burning damp wood. He had a raccoon he’d killed earlier in the day and needed to cook, hopefully unobserved.



He and Carol took off their packs and she settled gratefully on the bulge which was her sleeping bag. “You sure you’re all right?” Chad asked.



“Yeah, just tired. Give me a few minutes and I’ll set up camp.”



Chad scrutinized her before he nodded. He took their battered cookpot out of his pack and said, “I’m going back to that spring we just passed.” Small streams and springs were abundant in the area, and unlike other places they’d been, the water tasted great.



He returned with the pot full of water and set it aside. Carol was working on their bed and he studied her for a few moments. He so wished they were somewhere safe. But they weren’t, so he’d have to make do.



Chad pulled out his knife. It was ironic, he thought, using the knife he’d taken from Rory Young in a fight and using it daily on the endless trek Rory’s actions had set in motion. He picked up a dry branch, shaved off slivers of wood, and mixed in cattail fluff from his fire kit. The fluff flared to life with the second stroke on his flint and he carefully fed shavings and twigs into the fire until he had a reasonable blaze going. He set the pot on rocks over the fire and untied the raccoon from his pack. With a glance at Carol, she was resting after preparing their bed, he crab-walked out of the shelter. He returned soon with the skinned, carcass in hand. He cut the meat into pieces and put them in the heating water. While he did it, Carol completed setting their camp up.



“It looks like we’re good for now, so I’m going to work on the skin a bit,” Chad said. He fashioned a quick frame from branches and stretched the raccoon’s hide to it with paracord. Being careful not to cut through the skin, he scraped it with his knife. It wasn’t perfect, but it was as good as it was going to get under the circumstances.



He cracked the coon’s skull with a rock and scooped the brain out and put in in an old tin cup he carried. Carol dipped water out of the cooking pot and poured it into the cup. With a forked stick, Chad smashed the brain and mixed the water into it. It took several minutes of stirring before the strawberry colored paste was fairly consistent. He reached into the cup with three fingers, scooped up a glob, and rubbed it into the hide, He was on his fourth scoop when they heard shots.



They were close, too close for comfort and he cursed silently. Before he and Carol left home, such an outburst, silent or spoken, would have had him remembering the taste of soap. His mother wouldn’t tolerate foul language and used a bar of soap to emphasize it with her children. But all the time and experiences on the road had pushed that reaction from his mind.



He grimaced and wiped his hands on the furry side of the coon skin, grabbed it and his rifle, and slid deeper into the cave. He wanted to curse again, holding the single-shot air rifle instead of the AK47. Carol had the fire smothered by the time he was settled. “Down between the packs” he whispered. “If someone shoots in here, ricochets could go anywhere.”



He pulled his 9mm pistol free and passed it and the spare magazines to her. She extended the AK forward and Chad was reaching to exchange with her when a man ducked into the cave’s entrance, panting.



“That’s far enough,” Chad said softly. “One more step and you’re dead.” He left the AK at his side and aimed the air rifle’s muzzle at the center of the man’s chest. The stranger was perfectly silhouetted in the entrance, while Chad knew he and Carol were invisible from the man’s location.



The man uttered a curse, and despite having thoughts along the same lines only moments ago, Chad whispered “Watch your language. I don’t appreciate that kind of talk in front of my wife.”



The man was quiet as he tried to see into the darkness. “Sorry Ma’am, I didn’t see you. Now, can you let me get into this hole before those bas, er I mean uh, two-legged skunks searching see me sitting here.”



“I’ve got a problem with that,” Chad said keeping his voice soft and the rifle aimed directly at the man’s chest. “You see, I don’t know you from Adam and maybe there’s a good reason you’re being hunted.”



The man sighed and said, “I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Those thugs picked up my trail before I made it home. I only want to get through this and get home.”



Chad felt a twinge at the comment.



“I don’t blame you for not taking my word on it, I sure as he . . . heck wouldn’t. But unlike me, the guys hunting me are murderers and rapists. I only kill people who deserve it.



“I live in a compound not too far from here. A couple of us were hunting and we became the hunted. We split up and I’ve been running like mad staying only a few steps ahead.”



Chad wanted to believe the man but he had caution bred by countless encounters.



The man continued to talk, quieter, but stopped when brush rustled outside.



Chad searched the brush for the source and what he saw made his stomach clench; the blue armband on the shaved head man easing past a massive walnut tree. He’d seen the wearers of those armbands and knew the stranger was right. If they were found and Carol lived through the initial encounter, her life would become a living nightmare.



Very quietly he said, “It’s your turn to trust me. When I say ‘now’ you need to flatten. I’m going to put a bullet right through the space your head is occupying. And if you do anything wrong, the second bullet goes into your head.”



The man gave a slight nod and the shaved head man saw him. “Now” Chad snapped as the bald man’s rifle came up. Chad squeezed the trigger, heard the satisfying splat as the bullet slammed into flesh, and the man crumpled with a cry of pain. Several years and more than a thousand miles ago, that splat would’ve made Chad instantly sick, but it was far in his past, far away in Idaho. He made a quick rifle change, watching the stranger.



Rather than face Chad, he’d spun and faced away. At further movement, he raised his rifle and shot.



Several shots answered and Chad felt fire burst in his side. The man at the entrance made a sharp grunt and returned rapid fire. The shots died off and all Chad could hear over the ringing in his ears was busting brush and groans.



“We’ve rattled them and the rest are backing off. I think it’s time I take the fight to them while they’re confused,” he said and slipped out of the cave’s entrance.



Chad stared at the vacant opening to their shelter and jumped when Carol touched him. “You’re hit,” she said. “Let me see.”



His heart pounded harder from her unexpected touch than from the brief exchange of gunfire. He caught his breath and said, “It’s too dark and we’re not restarting the fire. What about you? Are you alright?”



“I’m good. They all passed over me,” she said.



Relief flooded him.



A shot rang out a fair distance from their refuge, followed by several more.



Chad and Carol sat quietly and waited. As the adrenaline left his system, he began to feel the burn in his side more. Maybe he should let Carol examine it. “You’re sure you’re okay?” he asked to take his mind off his wound.



“Yeah, I’m good,” she said.



They froze as brush rustled.



“It’s me,” the man who’d taken refuge with them said. “Can I come in? We don’t have to worry that bunch will come back.”



Darkness was rapidly approaching and Chad wanted to look the man over before they lost all light. “Stay where you are and lower your rifle,” he said.



He eased out of the small cave, watching the man but also behind him.



“I wanted to let you know you don’t need to worry about those guys,” the stranger said. “Maybe tomorrow their pack mates will wonder what they’re doing and come looking, but I think you’ll be safe for tonight.”



Chad studied the man. A bandana was around his upper arm and blood soaked the jacket sleeve. And though the man was wounded, Chad wasn’t sure he’d be able to defend himself if the man planned harm. He had an aura, a tightly coiled spring, ready to unleash violence in an instant.



Chad had seen it numerous times since leaving home. It was another reason he had to get home. He didn’t want to be like them, jaded and hardened to the point shooting another man was a part of life. As the thought came to him, his stomach churned as he recalled the splat when his bullet found its target. Chad swallowed bile and studied the man. He didn’t have another look Chad had seen in men, the blue armband group only the latest. Chad didn’t detect the familiar look of malice and evil in the man.



“So you say you live around here?” Chad asked.



The man told Chad about the compound where he lived and gave a general rundown of the local situation. It seemed legit to Chad.





“My name’s Kevan Miller, by the way. And you are?” the man said.



Chad decided to trust the man. “Chad Smoke. So you’re sure we won’t have any trouble from those guys tonight?”



“Dead certain if you know what I mean,” Kevan Miller said. “Your accent tells me you’re a long way from home. What brings you to our lovely mountains?”



Chad studied him a bit more and shrugged noncommittedly. He turned to the dark hole in the limestone wall. “Go ahead and start the fire, Carol. Mister Miller was shot. We’ll need to be able to see it.”



“No Mister, call me Kevan. But you don’t need to worry about me. I only wanted to let you know you don’t need to be concerned with those goons. And to thank you. I appreciate you taking that maggot out that was behind me. Now I’ll go find a place of my own for the night. Besides, it looks like you’ve got your own wound that needs tending.”



“I insist Kevan. Let us do what we can for your wound and share our supper with you at least,” Chad said.



It took more talking before Miller gave in. After he did he said, “You never answered when I indicated you’re a long way from home. Are you passing through or looking for a place to land for a while?” he asked.



Chad winced with longing.



#



So we’re staying at a compound that sits on top of a plateau. It offers a good view all around and seems pretty safe. Luckily, well, foresight by the head guy Tom, the compound has a good well with a manual pump. But it’s a lot deeper than anything back home.



Tom is a no-nonsense guy. You do your share and you receive a share. Pretty simple. It’s not so bad, although Carol can’t do as much as she’d like.



I didn’t mention it yet, but by the time this letter reaches you, you should be grandparents. That’s why we’re staying in one place for a while. After showing we aren’t afraid of work, Tom said we can stay on until the baby is born and Carol is well enough to travel. What a relief. I was so afraid of something happening while we were on the move.



Besides, it’s fall. The weather isn’t too different than our old home, although it sounds like the snow doesn’t stay around as long and it doesn’t get as cold. Still, I didn’t want Carol traveling in it. It will be good to wait until spring or summer before moving on.



Good Christian people live here with quite a few multi-generational families. But like everywhere, some real lowlifes live in the woods. These hills are pretty secluded and lowlifes produced lots of pot and meth in the past. It’s funny, the soil is thin and needs a lot of nutrients and compost to grow a good garden. Rocks are everywhere, some as big as bowling balls, but the pot growers always managed.



We’re always on the lookout for those guys. They liked the power they had and banded together in the absence of law and order. So the respectable people are also banding together and formed a militia they call the “Bald Knobbers”.



#



“Even before things went to pieces, there were areas good people didn’t go,” Kevan explained to Chad. “Unnamed gravel roads led into the hills, many of them ending at a cluster of old houses and trailers. We didn’t have a large population so they could be quite well hidden. All too often the people who lived in those places cooked meth and grew pot and weren’t too keen on strangers showing up.”



Tom took up the narrative. “After the world went to hell, they didn’t like giving up such a lucrative trade, even though cash was worthless. What did hold value was food, women, and laborers. They mine the old cities for chemicals and have come up with some new dope. It’s more addictive and deadly than meth ever was. They steal women and make them sex slaves. They wear blue armbands as insignia for the other low lives. That’s why I grilled you so much when you showed up, to make sure you aren’t one of them.”



“I have no use for people of their ilk but I’ve found there’s never a shortage of them nowadays,” Chad said.



“Don’t I know it. They’re like fleas on a hound. No matter how many you find, as many or more are left to irritate the dog,” Tom said. “That’s why I want you in the Bald Knobbers.”



“The what?” Chad asked.



“Bald Knobbers. It’s an old term we revived under the circumstances,” Tom said.



Kevan nodded in affirmation and Tom continued, “The originals were a vigilante group in the 1800s who formed up to restore law and order. They gave wife beaters a taste of their own medicine, burned out thieves, and helped out widows and children. You know, hard willed hill people Robin Hoods. Sometimes they may have taken things too far, but now, with the blue bands, I think elimination is our only answer.”



“I’ll do whatever I can,” Chad said. “I’d rather not have to watch out for those guys when we move on.”



“So in a few days, we’re taking the fight to them,” Tom said, “And I want you to go along. Now Chad, tell me about that rifle you have.”



Chad grinned and held the air rifle out for them to see. He could hear Mat explaining it to him all those years ago. Despite the grin, his eyes grew misty.



“Ah, this is my toy.” Mat held it out and admired it, and then handed it over to Chad. “You know boys and their toy guns. But as you found out, it’s not a toy, although some people would consider it frivolous. What you’re holding is a .50 caliber air rifle.



“Chad, are you still with us?” Kevan asked.



“Huh? Oh, yeah. So this is my brother’s toy,” he said. “You remember Lewis and Clark and the Corps of Discovery, right?” He explained and dug into his ammunition bag as Tom and Kevan looked over the rifle. He fingered the clay mold, a tire weight, and a bullet.



“What’re you doing?” Chad asked Mat at one point. Mat had a handful of the clay mud they were using and was forming it into a block.



“Experimenting,” he said. When he was satisfied with the block, he cut a line deep into it, all the way around. That done, he made a cone-shaped hole in the top. When he was satisfied with his work, he set the clay block in the direct sunlight.



“Did you put something in there?” Chad asked.



“Yeah, one of the air rifle bullets. I saw the wheel weights on the pickup tires and got to wondering something. Suppose you were away from here with that rifle, ran out of bullets, and didn’t have the molds. Could you improvise and make your own? I think it’ll work with a little fine adjustment on the slugs when they come out. But we won’t know until we try,” Mat said.



Chad was shocked. “So what, are you planning to leave?” he asked.



“No, it’s just a “what if” thought. I didn’t plan on surviving a nuclear war when I had this place built, and you know how that turned out. So it’s one more thing to consider; could we make bullets for that rifle if we had to without the regular molds? I don’t know, but I’d bet in parts of the country, bullets are pretty scarce now,” Mat said.



“I think it’ll work,” Dan said. “Good thinking.”



“Well, I don’t ever plan on finding out,” Chad stated.



Mat! Dad! Chad sniffed and brushed at his face as he was flooded with emotion. He looked at the house where Carol was and knew it would be a long time before he saw his family again. He’d read somewhere duty was heavier than a mountain. His shoulders slumped under the tremendous weight.



He showed the clay bullet mold to Kevan and Tom and explained how he made his bullets, all the while wishing they weren’t needed.



#



But we’re safe here, and the compound has a very good midwife. So we’ll stay through winter. I have no idea when we’ll get back home.



We love and miss you all,



Chad and Carol



#



Chad tried to soak up the spots on the paper where his tears had fallen, being careful to not smudge the writing. It wasn’t good, but it was better. And the last bit seemed so inadequate for what he felt. He folded the paper and put it in the envelope Tom had given him, sealed it, and slipped it in his pocket. With luck, a lot of luck, someone would pass through going towards home and the letter would eventually make it to its destination.

[bretf]

Roving Minstrels Plus One



Brooke Smoke let the bicycle drift to a stop in front of the Hamilton Post Office and Barter Center. She turned and stuck her tongue out at her twin sister Alison and their friend Brian Sparks. “I don’t know why we have to come here first. Angie won’t have anything new to trade that we don’t already have. I’d rather come here after we’ve seen Sue and Joe.”



“Don’t you mean “seen Joe”? Anyway, you do too know why we had to come here first. And you know we have to check in with the Camps next. Mom insisted and you know she’ll ask everyone when she gets the chance. If we don’t do it her way this time, we’ll be banished to the house until we’re thirty,” Alison said.



“Oh, it can’t be that bad,” Brian said.



Brooke raised her eyebrows and shook her head sadly saying, “Unfortunately, she’s right. You only see her good side. After Chad and Carol left, we were like prisoners for more than a year. You have no idea how long we had to talk to get her to let us come without Mat.”



“Yeah, and if she hears we did anything on this trip she didn’t give her express permission to do, we won’t be back again any time soon. We might not even get to go to your house,” Alison said.



“Then don’t mess up,” Brian said quickly. “And explain to me again why I’m pulling your trailer.”



Both girls turned their beautiful smiles to him and batted their eyebrows. “Because you’re so sweet,” they said in unison. “And not a bad kisser either.” They cracked up when he turned red.



“Um-hum,” he said, unable to get anything else out.



“Come on you,” the girls said, each taking a hand and leading him into the building.



Angie looked up and said, “Hi guys, you must’ve gotten my mental message.”



Ali and Brooke looked at each other in question before they said in unison “Hi Angie. It’s nice to see you.”



They switched to tag team talking. They’d been talking in that manner for so long it was usually simple to complete the other’s sentence. But without practice, they couldn’t talk in unison in spontaneous conversations.



Alison, “No, we brought some”



Brooke, “Stuff from the garden.”



Alison, “And Mom was hoping”



Brooke, “We could get some”



Alison, “Flour, sugar, and honey.”



Brooke, “But what mental message”



Alison, “Are you talking about?”



Brooke, “I only get mental messages”



“From her,” they said again in unison, pointing at the other.



Angie looked at them in amazement. Even Brian was impressed and he’d witnessed them practicing together to fool people.



When she was over her shock Angie said, “A traveler dropped off an envelope the day before yesterday for you. I haven’t heard of anyone going up your way so I’ve still got it. I think it’s from your brother.”



“Why do you”



“Think it’s from”



“Chad. You didn’t”



“Open it and read”



“It, did you?”



Angie shook her head in reaction to the twins’ style of questions as well as the question. “Un, no, I didn’t,” she said. “I think it’s from him because his name is on it.”



The girls looked at each other for several moments and Brooke said, “Ali, no. I want to see Joe and Sue before we go.”



“Yes. You know what will happen if we get home with a letter and she thinks we dawdled in town. It’ll be worse than not doing what she says and her finding out,” Alison said.



“Oh, all right. You know, at times I hate it when you’re right. Come on Brian. We have to get the trailer unloaded fast,” Brooke said.



“Brooke,” Alison said as her sister reached the door. “Brian and I can do it and trade with Angie. But you better be back soon.”



Brooke smiled and said, “Sure thing.”



Ali shook her head, knowing she and Brian would have to go find her. Something was happening to them she didn’t understand. Although they could still complete each other’s sentences, they were growing different. Maybe it was because of Brian . . . and Joe. She smiled and decided that had to be it. Leave it to boys to mess up a perfect relationship.



#



The family and Brian sat in the living room with Heather holding the envelope. Nick Robbins also sat grinning, waiting to hear what the letter had to say. The girls had sent Brian to tell him when they passed his family’s home, knowing he’d be put out if he found out later they had a letter and hadn’t told him.



Heather studied the envelope and said, “Like the others, it has his name in the corner, and Smoke – Gomez, Indian Valley, Idaho for the address.”



She opened it carefully and withdrew the folded papers.



Dear everyone,



I hope you are all doing well at home. We’re doing well, all THREE of us. Mom and Dad, I hope you’re sitting down because you’re grandparents now. We have a beautiful son, named John, for Carol’s dad. Carol was worried that maybe the pox had done something to her, but he’s perfect! Sorry, we can’t send pictures but check out the sketches on the other paper.



Heather looked at the second slip of paper in her hand, at the line sketch of a woman holding a baby. Whoever drew it had a great eye for detail. Carol was easily recognizable, although her features were those of a woman, not the girl any of them had last seen. She looked down at the bundle in her arms, enraptured. The baby had a puckered up face like he wanted his mother to turn him around and feed him rather than hold him for the sketch artist.



Lisa took the sketch, sniffed, and cooed, “Oh he’s gorgeous!”



Brooke and Alison looked over her shoulder at the drawing, turned to look at each other and shrugged. “It must be late summer where they are. That kid’s face is so twisted up it looks like he tried chokecherries for the first time,” Brooke said.



“Brooke, he’s beautiful,” Lisa admonished. She turned the paper over to see a sketch of John, peacefully sleeping. The image blurred as tears flooded her eyes. She held the paper out to Dan so she wouldn’t mess it up.



The paper was passed from person to person and Heather started reading again.



So having John sure makes things different, but we manage. We’re in Northern Texas now and wow, are parts of it flat. I wouldn’t believe it if I didn’t see it. We’ve been staying at a village for a few days, resting, stocking up, and figuring where we’ll go next. It’s funny, we play music and sing for food and a place to sleep. I’ve been told there are a number of traveling musicians, minstrels they’re called around here. They go from village to village and perform in exchange for food and lodging.



Wherever we go next, it won’t be east. We’ve heard interesting stories no one knows if they’re true or rumor. Anyway, it’s said President Morton and some government and military officials survived in hardened bunkers and are working to reestablish the country. Supposedly, they conscript pretty much every able-bodied person they can (or don’t have killed). I’d like to see our country rise from the ashes, but I don’t want to leave Carol and John. So we won’t go east.



We don’t know when we’ll be home, but Carol is much more open to the idea now that we have John.



Love to you all,



Chad, Carol, and John



As was their custom anytime they heard from Chad, Lisa and Dan left the house hand in hand. Lisa’s face was wet with tears as they headed for their spot to look down the valley.



Mat looked at the papers spread out on the table. They’d been designing a second house and cutting timbers, anticipating the day Chad and Carol returned. Alison and Brooke wanted the entire process to go faster. They anticipated having the new house to themselves until their brother returned.



“So what do you think, Hon?” he asked Heather. “Do we need to change anything now that they’re parents?”



Brooke looked at her sister and said, “Knowing our luck, it won’t be done when they get back and they’ll get our room. We’ll be relegated to the shed.”



Alison winked at her and said, “Easier for Brian or Joe to visit without Mom and Dad knowing.”

[bretf]

Almost a Neighbor



“This is crazy,” Carol said as she bobbed in the waves holding John close. His eyes were wide and he was laughing.



“Yeah, it is,” Chad agreed. “I can’t believe it’s winter and the water is this warm. At home, we’d be chipping ice every day for the goats and chickens.” The water they were in was chilly but far from icy.



“I guess I should have figured out it would be warm but, wow. I’ve never been to an ocean and I guess technically this isn’t. But everyone I ever talked to who did, went to the Oregon coast and a couple to California. They always said it was cold, colder than our rivers in the summer. But man, we’ve taken baths in water colder than this.”



“I went to the Oregon coast once with my parents,” Carol said and a cloud passed over her face.



Chad let the silence hang. After her mother’s actions, Carol questioned everything she’d done with the woman.



After a short lull, she said, “And the water was freezing. I could only wade out a little way before I got out.”



Chad was glad she hadn’t dwelled long on the negative thoughts. It had taken a long time to get past too many of them. In case she was still thinking of her mom, he approached the conversation from an angle he was all but certain would take her mind in a different direction. He gave her a wolfish smile and looked at her exposed chest. “Yeah, but the chill has a nice effect on two of your incredible assets.”



She smiled and brushed across him with a wicked grin. “I guess, but at the same time, the cold doesn’t do a lot for you.”



Chad tilted his head back and laughed. “But this water isn’t that cold and neither of us is dressed.”



“Point taken,” Carol said and laughed with him. “Both of them.” She moved closer to him and her eyes got wide. “Chad,” she said breathlessly, looking over his shoulder.



“Carol!” he stated and reached to embrace her, misinterpreting.



“No, Chad, a boat is coming right for us,” she said.



Her statement didn’t register. He had something in mind and was in no hurry to dismiss it. As her rigid posture and words soaked into his addled mind, he turned and looked into the wide expanse of the Gulf of Mexico. She was right. A small rowboat carrying three shaggy men was bearing down on them. The men were dressed in tattered fatigues.



His eyes opened wide in recognition and he said a rare curse word in front of his wife and son.



“Move, get to the beach,” he snapped and shoved her. He tried to position himself to shield her if the boat’s occupants opened fire.



Despite seeing the boat first, she stumbled when he shoved her and John’s face went under the water. She got her feet under her and stood in place as he blubbered and coughed saltwater.



“Carol, we’ve got to get out of here.” Chad’s voice was high, loud, and bordering on hysterics.



In a rush, they made it to the beach, running for a mound of sand. The closest weapon to their path was one of the longbows. He snatched it and the quiver of arrows and dived behind the pile of sand beside Carol. He strung the bow, nocked an arrow, and drew it. Despite the mad dash, the tip was unwavering as it pointed at the lead man in the boat.



“Holy shit, Coop! Do you see that?” a man asked in a loud voice. “I knew our world went to hell, but damn, man, I feel like freaking Christopher Columbus crossing the ocean and having a naked savage point an arrow at me.”



Another man laughed and the third man called out, “We don’t mean any harm. We only want to land and continue to our homes.”



Chad nearly relaxed his hold on the arrow. Not from the man’s words but because of his voice. He sounded, well, normal. After years of traveling and hearing all kinds of accents, the man sounded like he was from home.



The boat approached the beach and Chad strained to hold the draw on the bow.



“Hey, Sacajawea, we’re friendly. Put the bow and arrow down already,” one of the men yelled.



“You idiot, Sacajawea was a woman,” one of the other men said.



“It’s the only name I could think of with an arrow pointed at my heart. Give me something better, Einstein.”



“Uh . . . Chingachgook. Yeah, that’s a good one! He was a stud.”



“Ching gothcha what? Come on man, that’s American soil, well sand at least. We’re done talking Parsi.”



“It is American, you idiot. Real American. Didn’t you see Last of the Mohicans? That was the name of the Indian dad guy.”



“The dude with the wicked weapon? That battle-ax and knife blade hybrid? Man, it’s too bad we didn’t have a couple of those with us. We sure could’ve used them.”



The men continued to discuss the old movie and the weapon. The third man, the one who spoke normal, called, “You on the beach. We mean no harm. We were dropped off further out and didn’t mean to interrupt you. We only want to land and get on our way to our homes.” When the arrow didn’t lower he added, “We were stranded in Afghanistan when the world went to hell. It’s not exactly easy to cross the oceans nowadays.”



Chad wavered. Thoughts of Mat and the few stories he’d shared of Afghanistan flooded his memory. He couldn’t have loosed the arrow at that moment if he’d wanted to. He was shaken from his thoughts when the man called again.



“So are you going to allow us to land or not? I’ve got to tell you, we are what I said and we have the armament to back up my statement. Before you can nock a second arrow, two magazines will be emptied into you, the woman, and the baby. That pile of sand won’t stop bullets.”



“The woman and the baby” were the words that convinced him. Chad couldn’t bear the thought of harm coming to either of them. “All right,” he called, lowered the bow, and slowly stood. “Can I at least get clothes for my wife? And mine while I’m at it?”



“Clothing only,” the man called.



Chad nodded in acknowledgment and walked to their piled gear. After picking up his and Carol’s clothes and not hearing shots or feeling the numbing slam of bullets, he turned and looked at the boat that’d just beached. “You know, you guys sure put a damper on what was going to be a fabulous experience.”



One of the men hooted and held his hand up to receive a high-five. “Now that’s the America I’ve been trying to get home to for too damn long!”



#



The campfire sparked and crackled. The three men from the boat sat on one side. Chad and Carol were on the other, Carol with John snuggled close. Shells from their seafood dinner littered the sand.



“So, we were in Afghanistan doing Uncle Sam’s bidding when the world went to hell. Subsequently, we were stranded there,” the man with the normal accent said. “It’s taken years to get this far and we all want to see home again.”



Chad felt a deep pang. He longed to see his home as well.



“Judging by your accent,” the man continued, “I’m guessing you come from somewhere near my home. My family was in Wenatchee, Washington the last I knew and that’s where I’m heading. Jimmy,” he said and indicated one of his companions, “Is from West Virginia. Lars,” he indicated the second man, “Is from Minnesota.”



Chad studied the men. He wanted to believe them but was cautions. It was ingrained in him by countless encounters. “Afghanistan you say?” he said. He’d let the man talk and see if his story meshed at all with what Mat had told him. Of course, Mat had made it home before the pandemic and That Day.



“Yeah. I don’t know if you were aware of circumstances at the end, but as things were falling apart everywhere, pretty much everyone was pulled back to Bagram to evacuate for home. We got intel on where Ayman al-Zawahiri was supposed to be so a group of us went after him. We figured if we were leaving, we might as well take that bastard out first.”



The man continued to talk and it seemed legit to Chad.



“So anyway, we got him and the scum running with him,” the man said, “On the very day Bagram went up in a mushroom cloud. So we had to make our way back to the States in a disintegrating world. As you can see, only the three of us made it this far. My name’s Larry Cooper, by the way. I apologize for not introducing myself earlier. Our entire existence has been rather short on manners for a long time. And you are?”



Chad decided to trust the man. “Chad Smoke, and you were right, what you said earlier about where we’re from. Although I don’t have an accent, everyone else does. We’re from Western Idaho.”



They talked long into the night and Chad shared all he knew. He didn’t recognize the name of the town Lars called home but was urged to tell everything he’d seen and heard when he and Carol had been in Minnesota. Lars had a wistful look as he listened and asked several questions during the narrative. “Man, I can’t wait to get there,” he stated.



Jimmy, on the other hand, wasn’t sure how to take the stories Chad had heard from his region. Chad stressed it was all hearsay, that he and Carol hadn’t been closer than Missouri. But Jimmy was bound and determined to get home and see for himself.



Carol took John to their bed and was soon asleep. The three former soldiers turned in as well, Only Chad remained awake. He took the weathered tablet and pencil from his pack, put another piece of wood on the fire, and started to write,



Hey everyone,



It’s hard to believe, but we’re a couple of thousand miles from home and met an almost neighbor today. He lives a little over a hundred miles from home and that feels close, real close from here.



Chad was still bent over his paper squinting to see and looking for the right words hours later when Lars stirred. He saw Coop was awake so he nudged Jimmy and said, “Hey guys, I think it’s time to hit the road.”



Jimmy was awake in an instant and said, “Hang on. We can go together damn near to Minnesota.”



Lars nodded and asked, “What about you Coop? You want to hang together for a while longer?”



Cooper was sitting up. He looked at Chad and said, “I’m not sure. Chad, are you moving on, and if so, which way? If you’re heading in the direction of home can I keep you and your wife company?”



Chad studied the page he’d been writing on and pinched his eyes closed. He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “I have to head for home,” he said softly. “Like you, we’ve been gone long enough. I’d welcome your company.”