Kyle Pratt - Through Many Fires

“No.”

“Be reasonable.”

“I am. I’ll drive. You keep your gun ready and give me directions. Also, you might get another gun before the convoy pulls out. You know I can shoot.”

Caden could find only one fault with the plan. “What about Adam?”

“Well, we are not going to leave him with strangers, so you find a way around the roadblock and we keep Adam with us.”

“You’re pretty logical—for a woman.” He smiled and stepped away.

She thumped him on the back before he got out of range.

Minutes later he returned. “The lieutenant wished us a safe journey, but he gave me this.” Caden held out a SIG P228 pistol and two 15-round magazines. Together they buckled the baby into the backseat as best they could and as the convoy pulled out of the parking lot heading south, they headed east.

The homes along the highway were damaged or burned. None appeared inhabited. As they moved away from the freeway the forest thickened and the homes thinned. About eight miles in, Caden told Maria to turn right onto a smaller road. “This will take us to a bridge that crosses the river. From there we can loop back to the highway behind the roadblock.” Minutes later he said, “Slow down. Stop when you get to that bend up ahead. I’ll be able to see the bridge from the other side of that hill.”

Caden got out of the car and sprinted into the woods. He crested the nearby knoll and worked his way along until he had a clear view of the crossing. He strained to see as much as possible. Wish I had binoculars.

Logs were laid out at the far end of the span. Any approaching vehicle would need to slow to a crawl to get through the ‘S’ shaped barricade. Caden saw two men dressed in jeans, hunting jackets and ball caps. One sat in a sandbagged position up the side of the hill while the other stood near the far end of the log road block. Both had rifles. This isn’t set up like a bandit blockade; this is a guard post.

“Turn around,” he said upon returning to the car. “The bridge is blocked, but there is a logging road nearby I want to try.”

It took ten minutes to reach the dirt road and another twenty to reach the river crossing. Where once had been a large culvert, there was now a free-flowing waterway.

Caden sighed.

“Are there any other ways to get to Hansen?”

“Yes,” he looked at the fuel gauge, “but we don’t have the gas to try them. Head back to the main highway. I have a hunch.”

“What’s your idea?”

“That these aren’t bandit roadblocks, but are really guard posts.”

“What kind of a hunch is that?”

He shrugged. “Perhaps a crazy one.”

At the highway Maria turned right. The road sloped down into the river valley where Caden had camped, fished and played as a child. The forest was thick and reached right down to the shore of the lake less than a mile ahead. “Pull off just up there.” He pointed to a wide spot in the pavement. “Wait here while I take a look.”

She nodded. “Be careful.”

Again he sprinted into the woods and up a hill. In a few minutes he was in a good position to observe the roadblock on the far end of the half-mile long causeway. Even more so at this distance he wished he had binoculars. But he could see that Henry had been right. Two bulldozers blocked the far end of the road. Again, they appeared to be offset to form an ‘S’ shaped position and he could see three men with rifles. One was clearly watching the road while the others sat near a fire.

They aren’t hiding. Anyone coming down the road would see them long before they were in effective range. That is a defensive position. I’m sure of it.

Caden stood and walked down the hill toward the lake. As he stepped on the road he looked back over his shoulder to ensure that Maria couldn’t see what he was about to do. No reason to let her kill me before the bandits have a chance. He continued onto the causeway.

Caden was well out on the causeway when it occurred to him that if he did get shot, Maria would almost certainly come running after him. Great plan you came up with Caden. But there was no turning back. One man was visible at the blockade watching him.

He stepped forward with his arms away from his body.

Hopefully they can see my uniform. Well…if they are bandits that might make things worse.

Another step forward.

Now three men watched him from behind a bulldozer.

Another step forward.

A gunshot echoed across the lake.

Still standing. Nothing hurts. He looked down. No blood visible. All the pieces are still there. Even though he was fine, he suspected Maria was near panic. She would come armed and dangerous. He had to calm things down quickly. “I’m Caden Westmore. My father is Trevor Westmore. We are both from Hansen. He still lives there. I’m here on orders from Governor Monroe. I just want to talk.” Several moments passed. Well, they haven’t shot me—yet.

One of the men disappeared from view.

Seconds ticked slowly by. He prayed both that Maria would not come and the men would not shoot.

He heard a car engine. Maria? No. The sound was from the roadblock. A pickup truck came around one of the bulldozers, then raced down the road toward him.

Caden took a deep breath, but stood still. As the truck neared he stepped to the shoulder.

Twenty feet away, the rust and red pickup stopped abruptly. A man with a 270 hunting rifle, stepped cautiously from the passenger side of vehicle. “Is that really you?”

The voice was familiar. He stared hard at the face. The hair was grayer and the forehead more wrinkled. “Mr. Michaels?”

The smile broadened. He slung the rifle onto his shoulder and stepped forward. “I haven’t seen you since graduation.” He hugged Caden. “You must have paid attention in my geography class, you made it back home. Last I heard you were in Washington D.C. We thought….”

“I almost did.”

A car crept down the hill behind him. It was Maria. “That’s my friend,” he explained to Michaels.

The teacher pulled a radio from his pocket. “Glenn, it’s Caden. I told you I recognized that voice. Anyway, that’s his car at the far end with a friend in it, so hold your fire.”

Caden waved Maria forward, and then turned back to Michaels. “So, did you guys really shoot at me?”

The driver of the pickup said, “No, not at you.”

Michaels laughed. “Most people turn around when they see the roadblock. Those that don’t, get a shot over their heads.”

“That scares away most of the looters,” the other man added.

Caden smiled weakly and decided, at least for now, not to ask what happened to those who didn’t flee.

Maria drove up. Caden turned as she stepped from the car. Her eyes locked on him, but no hint of emotion escaped her face.

After introductions Michaels said, “I’ll take the pickup and lead you back to the sheriff’s office.”

“I’m sure I still know my way around town. I don’t need a tour.”

“You may have grown up here, but you’ve been gone for years. Many people don’t know you and a lot happened in the last few weeks. The sheriff will want to talk to you, so it’s best that I go along to the office.”

Caden relented and allowed Michaels to escort him.

Once back in the car Maria said, “When I heard that gunshot….”

Caden nodded.

Her voice grew stern. “You could have been killed.”

“I had a hunch.”

With eyes fixed on him she said, “Your hunch could have left you dead on some backwoods road and me in the middle of nowhere with a half-a-tank of gas and a baby. I know we’re not married or anything, but I do….”