because his little sister was there alone until he returned.
There wasn’t a day since that morning he set out that Mitch didn’t think about his mom and dad. He had no way of knowing if they were alive or dead, but others in the streets had seen jet aircraft falling from the sky. The plumes of smoke in several places on the horizon confirmed it was true once he was out of the truck and talking to other drivers around him. Mitch had to assume that unless his parents’ flight had already landed in Houston, they too were probably victims of a plane crash. There had been enough time for them to get there if the flight actually left when it was supposed to, but Mitch simply didn’t know and he knew he never would unless they showed up at the farm one day. It was more than 400 miles from Houston to these south Mississippi woods, but if anyone could find a way to get back home, Mitch knew that Doug Henley could.
The skills and knowledge Mitch learned from his father were keeping him alive today. Mitch knew he was fortunate to have been raised the way he was and where. Out here in the backwoods, far from big cities and even small towns, his family had been largely self-sufficient even before the blackout. Mitch had learned to do many things the old way, including hunting and preserving foods. With more than two decades of outwitting poachers and other outlaws, his game warden father had seen it all and Mitch absorbed plenty listening to his tales of their mostly illegal tricks and methods. All of this backwoods knowledge was crucial now, and certainly would be more so the longer things went in the direction they were headed.
So while Mitch would have preferred to be back at the house, warm and dry and in the company of April rather than out here in the woods in the rain, the discomfort and inconvenience was nothing new to him. If they didn’t find Jason’s deer before dark, they would find a place to settle in for the evening and resume the search in the morning light. Next time Jason would be more careful with his aim. Mitch was sure of it.
Three
T HE SUDDEN REPORT OF a high-powered rifle shattering the quiet of the piney woods stopped Benny Evans in his tracks. The shooter had to be close, probably within range of where he stood, but there had been no sound of a bullet impact and a quick check of the girls behind him reassured him they were both okay as well. The rain that had been falling for several minutes was enough to muffle smaller sounds, like people talking or moving through the woods, making the gunshot even more startling. Benny hadn’t expected to encounter anyone out here, but it wasn’t far to the dirt road that ran by the front of the Henley property. Tommy and David were out making their rounds of the perimeter, but they’d already passed this way and Benny and the girls had spoken with them as they worked their way to the back of the 600 acres. Tommy was carrying his .308, of course, and the shot Benny just heard could have come from a rifle like that, but it was in the wrong direction to be Tommy’s. Besides that, his boy wouldn’t be wasting ammo for no good reason. When two more shots followed the first, even as Benny contemplated this, he began to get concerned.
He quietly put down the axe he’d been carrying in one hand and reached for the Remington 12-gauge slung over his back. At the same time he turned and motioned for the girls to keep quiet and be still. They had been following just a few feet behind and were just as confused and startled by the sudden gunshots as he. Benny crouched to watch and listen, waiting for any sign of movement or other sounds out there among the pines. Just seconds later the silence was disturbed again. Something big was crashing through the brush ahead of him, from the direction in which the shots had come. Benny raised his shotgun and tensed as he strained to see through the screen of trees. Whatever it was, it was coming his way and making a lot of
There wasn’t a day since that morning he set out that Mitch didn’t think about his mom and dad. He had no way of knowing if they were alive or dead, but others in the streets had seen jet aircraft falling from the sky. The plumes of smoke in several places on the horizon confirmed it was true once he was out of the truck and talking to other drivers around him. Mitch had to assume that unless his parents’ flight had already landed in Houston, they too were probably victims of a plane crash. There had been enough time for them to get there if the flight actually left when it was supposed to, but Mitch simply didn’t know and he knew he never would unless they showed up at the farm one day. It was more than 400 miles from Houston to these south Mississippi woods, but if anyone could find a way to get back home, Mitch knew that Doug Henley could.
The skills and knowledge Mitch learned from his father were keeping him alive today. Mitch knew he was fortunate to have been raised the way he was and where. Out here in the backwoods, far from big cities and even small towns, his family had been largely self-sufficient even before the blackout. Mitch had learned to do many things the old way, including hunting and preserving foods. With more than two decades of outwitting poachers and other outlaws, his game warden father had seen it all and Mitch absorbed plenty listening to his tales of their mostly illegal tricks and methods. All of this backwoods knowledge was crucial now, and certainly would be more so the longer things went in the direction they were headed.
So while Mitch would have preferred to be back at the house, warm and dry and in the company of April rather than out here in the woods in the rain, the discomfort and inconvenience was nothing new to him. If they didn’t find Jason’s deer before dark, they would find a place to settle in for the evening and resume the search in the morning light. Next time Jason would be more careful with his aim. Mitch was sure of it.
Three
T HE SUDDEN REPORT OF a high-powered rifle shattering the quiet of the piney woods stopped Benny Evans in his tracks. The shooter had to be close, probably within range of where he stood, but there had been no sound of a bullet impact and a quick check of the girls behind him reassured him they were both okay as well. The rain that had been falling for several minutes was enough to muffle smaller sounds, like people talking or moving through the woods, making the gunshot even more startling. Benny hadn’t expected to encounter anyone out here, but it wasn’t far to the dirt road that ran by the front of the Henley property. Tommy and David were out making their rounds of the perimeter, but they’d already passed this way and Benny and the girls had spoken with them as they worked their way to the back of the 600 acres. Tommy was carrying his .308, of course, and the shot Benny just heard could have come from a rifle like that, but it was in the wrong direction to be Tommy’s. Besides that, his boy wouldn’t be wasting ammo for no good reason. When two more shots followed the first, even as Benny contemplated this, he began to get concerned.
He quietly put down the axe he’d been carrying in one hand and reached for the Remington 12-gauge slung over his back. At the same time he turned and motioned for the girls to keep quiet and be still. They had been following just a few feet behind and were just as confused and startled by the sudden gunshots as he. Benny crouched to watch and listen, waiting for any sign of movement or other sounds out there among the pines. Just seconds later the silence was disturbed again. Something big was crashing through the brush ahead of him, from the direction in which the shots had come. Benny raised his shotgun and tensed as he strained to see through the screen of trees. Whatever it was, it was coming his way and making a lot of
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