Authors: Doug Kelly
“I
didn’t notice anything,” said Kevin, trying to suppress the image. He had seen
a corpse with long blonde hair. It appeared to be wearing women’s clothing and
was bloated and insect infested. Her arms were holding an infant in the same
state of decay.
Dylan
grabbed his rifle. “Let’s look around.”
Kevin
took him to the clump of bushes that concealed the bodies. Behind a large bush,
Kevin pointed to the bloated corpses. Dylan saw the baby and gagged. He turned
away, bent at the waist, and almost vomited. After a few moments, he wiped the
saliva from the corner of his mouth and circled the bush to get the wind to his
back. The smell was horrible. As he rotated his position around the bush, he
noticed something lying in the tall grass. It was a bicycle with an infant
trailer attached. She had tried to conceal it from the road, behind a large
bush. The grass had grown taller since the bike had been hidden there. No
tracks were visible in the prairie grass. He looked back at the dead woman and
noticed a bicycle helmet nearby.
Kevin
went to the bike and began to inspect it.
“Let’s
take it. Maybe we can use it,” said Dylan.
Kevin
had already lifted the bike upright and was pushing his thumb down on the
tread. It went down to the metal rim.
“Flat
tire,” said Kevin.
“Damn
it!” said Dylan. “Look for a patch kit. I see a pouch hanging from the seat.”
“There
is a bag inside the little baby trailer. I’ll look through that, too,” said
Kevin.
The
small pouch had a folding tool for a bicycle, but no patch kit. The bag in the
trailer had an empty water bottle, one diaper, and a small hand air pump.
“We’ll
figure something out. Let’s get it back to our camp,” said Dylan.
Mary
was awake by the time they got back. She was turned away from the men, putting
some wood on the fire.
“Hey,
look what we found,” said Kevin to his wife.
Mary
turned around to look.
“There
were two dead bodies near it. It looked like a mother and her baby, really
sad,” said Kevin, pointing in the direction of the distant bushes. “She hid the
bike. It looks like she got a flat tire, couldn’t fix it, and died hiding.”
While
Kevin spoke, Dylan wasted no time. He was already removing the front tire to
inspect the damage. He turned the wheel in his hands, closely inspecting the
tread. “I see it.” Dylan put the tread closer to his face. “It looks like a
thorn from a locust tree.” He pulled the sharp thorn out. “Damn locust trees,”
said Dylan, as he tossed the thorn into the fire.
“Any
ideas?” asked Kevin.
“I’m
thinking.” Dylan was sitting on the ground with his knees pulled toward his
chest. He closed his eyes and lowered his face to his knees. His mind was
racing for a solution. If they could get the bike to roll on the road, they
could use it to carry what was on the rafts. Still deep in thought, he looked
up and noticed that Mary was standing several feet away, staring at him. She
was tapping the cross on her chest. He wondered if she was trying to say
something with the gesture, but he ignored it and continued to think.
Dylan
used the bicycle tool, shimmed the tire from the rim, and removed the flat
inner tube. He stared at the hole in the tube. It looked so small.
“Tree
sap. Could we put tree sap on it and plug the hole?” asked Kevin.
“I
don’t think so. It’ll have to hold a lot of pressure,” said Dylan.
“What
are you talking about?” Mary stood by them to see what the tire looked like.
“That’s it?” asked Mary. “I’ve never fixed a tire, but can’t you put superglue
on the hole and cover it with a piece of plastic.”
Dylan
looked at her with wide eyes. “You have superglue?”
“One
small bottle. I’ll get it.”
Dylan
placed the inner tube flat on the ground. He put one large drop of glue
directly on the small puncture in the tube. Then he placed a small piece of
plastic that he cut from the tarp over the hole and pressed with the heel of
his hand. After several minutes he let go, placed the inner tube back on the
rim, and shimmed the tire tread back on the wheel. He put the wheel’s front
axle back on the fork and pushed the quick release lever down, locking the
wheel to the frame. Using the hand pump, he slowly inflated the tire.
“That
did it. Kevin, take it to the parking lot and I’ll drag the rafts over to you.
We’ll load up and leave.”
Kevin
looked toward the parking lot and asked, “What do you think the woman that
owned this bike was hiding from?”
“Exactly
what we are going to walk into.”
Kevin
walked away with the bicycle and Dylan watched the bike and its little trailer
cut through the tall grass, bouncing across the bumpy trail to the parking lot.
“You
see Dylan, my prayers are answered,” said Mary, tucking the cross back into her
shirt.
“What
did you pray for?”
“Help.”
“And
that’s why we have the bike?”
“Yes.”
Dylan
scowled when he thought of the dead mother holding the rotten corpse of her
child, both being consumed by insects.
“We
have the bike because someone left it there, and then they died. One of them
was an infant. Is that part of God’s plan?”
“The
Lord works in mysterious ways and I don’t question my faith. I’ll keep praying
for you.”
Dylan
draped the rifle over his shoulder and said, “Tell God we need bullets.”
Dylan
saw Mary kneel again and pray. He did not know what she was praying for and did
not ask. The rafts needed to be taken to the parking lot and that was what he did.
He dragged them over to Kevin and dropped them beside the bicycle. The asphalt
was slowly warming in the morning sunshine.
“Tie
the bags together and balance them over the bike frame like saddle bags. Stuff
as much as you can into the little child trailer and we’ll drag the suitcases
behind us,” said Dylan, as he looked back toward the river.
They
walked away from the roadside park leaving the three rafts behind them. The
gusty wind lifted the front of the empty rafts up, and then let them drop back
down to the ground. It reminded Dylan of stallions rearing up in a corral. Like
stallions with boundless energy, wanting to run free on the open range.
They
began the long walk out of the river valley. In the distance, the road crested
in front of them. It was the first of many hilltops where they would stop to
use the binoculars to examine the unfolding landscape, scanning from left to
right and then back again, looking for any foul thing.
The
afternoon sun was hot. Its heat reflected off the black asphalt and back up to
the three weary travelers. The heat and the weight of their belongings soon
began to feel unbearable. There was no shade or mercy from the sun. As the sun
grew higher, their pace grew slower.
“I
have to rest,” pleaded Mary. She was already trailing behind Dylan and Kevin.
“We
can’t stop here.” Dylan held his hand to his forehead for shade and judged the
angle of the sun in the sky. “We’ll stop when we find shade. I promise you.”
“Can
you please slow down? I can’t keep up with you.”
Both
men stopped and looked back at Mary. She was far behind and struggling on the
hot pavement. They nodded to each other, stopped, and patiently waited for Mary
to catch up with them. Mary was moving slowly, struggling with the heavy
suitcase. Kevin removed the binoculars and went to the crest of the hill to
scan the landscape before them. Dylan looked back at Mary and watched her
trudge slowly along. He wanted to help, but he was holding the bicycle laden
with their supplies. Looking past Mary to the distant hill behind them, he saw
something move. A dark object was at the top of the previous hill. It appeared
to be a car. He stared at the object and it moved again. He looked toward
Kevin, who was coming back to rejoin them.
At
Kevin’s approach, Dylan pointed to the hill behind them and said, “Look.”
Kevin
brought the dark object into focus, “It’s a car. I see a man standing by it.”
Kevin put the strap around his neck and let the binoculars hang free. He rested
his hands on his hips. “When I looked ahead I saw a car in the road. It was
across both lanes and looked like the front end was wrecked.”
Dylan’s
heart sank. He was familiar with this road and knew what it looked like ahead
of them. Just over the hill, the road construction crew had dynamited a path
through the limestone bedrock to lower the grade of the road. The limestone was
blasted away, creating bluffs, in ascending steps to the top, on both sides of
the artificial canyon. It was a perfect bottleneck for an ambush.
“It’s
a trap!” exclaimed Dylan.
“I
didn’t see anybody ahead.”
“Let’s
move to the top and keep watching.”
“Do
you think that car behind us is part of the trap?” asked Mary.
“I
don’t know, but I think we’re about to find out,” replied Dylan.
Pushing
the bike and pulling the suitcases behind them, they went almost to the crest
of the hill. Exhausted, Mary stepped off the highway and down into the drainage
swale, which was overgrown with tall weeds. Dylan took his turn with the
binoculars and panned the landscape in front of them. He saw a car, wrecked, on
their side of the divided highway. Surrounding the section of road in front of
them were stepped walls of limestone blasted away years earlier, creating an
artificial valley. The sun was getting lower on the western horizon and the
limestone bluff began to cast its shadow across the wrecked car. The top of the
bluff had a few trees and sparse shrubbery, enough for someone to hide behind.
Dylan lowered the binoculars and went back to his companions.
“What
did you see?” asked Mary.
“The
valley of the shadow of death,” replied Dylan coldly, before he kissed his
rifle.
Mary
gave him a glare, and clutched the cross dangling at her neck for comfort.
Suddenly
the distant car, atop the previous hill, began moving in their direction.
“Get
back from the road and stay low in the ditch. Where’s your pistol, Kevin?”
Dylan
held the rifle to his shoulder, but pointed it downward. Kevin crouched behind
the bike concealing the pistol. They did not want to start a confrontation, but
were ready if need be. The car moved to the lane farthest from the ditch and
sped up. With that lane change, Dylan knew they were only wanting to pass and were
also trying to avoid confrontation. In the brief moment when the old rusty car
passed by, they saw that four people occupied it. Two men were in front and two
women in back. In the instant of passing, they made eye contact. They all
looked scared. These people in the car, in their haste to get by, were going directly
into a roadblock. Dylan started to raise his hand, but it was too late. The car
had passed.
Just
as the car went over the hill out of view, they heard the sound of tires on
pavement with brakes locked tight. Dylan ran to the top of the hill and put the
binoculars to his eyes just in time to see the car’s front window shatter. The
driver had been shot dead from a distance. He heard another shot and saw steam
erupt from the radiator. Dylan looked up and saw a man with a scoped rifle
bounding down the stepped levels of the jagged limestone bluff. Another armed
man emerged from behind the wrecked car that was blocking the road. Kevin and
Mary were at his side and witnessed the ambush.
Mary
gasped and put her hand to her mouth. “Oh, dear God,” she continually repeated
to herself.
The
two armed bandits removed the three survivors from the car and bound their hands
behind their backs. They pushed their victims face down onto the tall grass of
the median. One of the highwaymen removed a long knife from the sheath strapped
to his side and cut the bound man’s throat. The two women’s screams were
ignored as the bandits went directly to the captured vehicle to ransack it.
“This
is our chance,” said Dylan. “They’re distracted. I’m going to use this ditch
and go down there.”
Dylan’s
eyes traced the path before him. The ditch on the side of the road was designed
for drainage. Its deep slope away from the road was meant to quickly take away
rainwater. The ditch was low and the weeds were high. It would be a good cover
to hide his movement.
Dylan
made it down into the shade of the limestone bluff. He was only the width of
the highway from the two armed men. From the tall grass of the drainage swale,
he watched them going through the car and its trunk. He could hear the bound
women crying in the tall weeds of the median. Dylan wanted the men to stand
next to each other, away from the cover of the car, before he took the shot.
Finally, one man exited the back seat and the other shut the trunk, and they
stood together at the side of car. They had found nothing of value, and it made
them angry. One man motioned to the other and they began to walk toward the two
helpless women.
Dylan
pulled the trigger and fanned the shots from one torso to the other. Instantly,
both men dropped to the ground. One was dead and the other lay writhing in
agony. The bullets had caught him in the lower torso. He was paralyzed from his
midsection down, lying on his back, partially eviscerated.