No Normal Day IV, Travelers

By J. Richardson

Jeff and his young son, Kevin, are travelers in the often inhospitable landscape of the country. Fifteen years  after a catastrophic event impacted America, challenges lurk in the unknown territories and many chance encounters. Most meetings are with people they will  never see again, some will prove to be life changing.  Join the travelers in their quest to find a permanent home and their struggles to survive.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J. Richardson
• Release date: Dec 31, 2013
• ISBN: 9781502254481

J. Richardson

J. Richardson shares her time these days between her tiny house near her beloved Texas hometown and a getaway home on an Arkansas river. Her children, grand-children and two great grand-children are scattered across the large home state. She married her high school sweetheart. The small adventures and rich life experiences are the inspiration for her writing. She and her hubby built, from scratch, five homes in the past nearly fifty years...a log house in the woods of East Texas, a lakehouse, a farmhouse, a cabin at the foot of the Colorado mountains and their present river house. She published her first novel in 2013, with eleven to follow. There are also two youth (for ages 8-11 years) books published. A pen name claims her writings because she states that many of her characters are based on friends and family. "Although," says Jo, "many are based on my years of observing people, characters I have met and from my overworked imagination." Jo says, "I think the internet is such a fascinating tool for learning, to research new locations. Research is my favorite part of writing a novel. The social media sites are just not for this old gal, but the communications from my readers are a great joy for me.  Writing has been a fresh and exciting experience for me." "My favorite reads are mystery and humor. In recent years I've become very interested in the Preppers movement and the everyday person's options for survival of catastrophe.  I enjoy reading the dystopian fiction and that led me to wanting to write my own stories on the subject."

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J. Richardson

COPYWRIGHT

All Rights Reserved

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Copyright © 2013 by J. Richardson

The author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. 

Table of Contents

CHAPTER ONE

The Arkansas Travelers

CHAPTER TWO

The Healing Springs

CHAPTER THREE

Alligators and Magnolias

CHAPTER FOUR

A Visit to Unity

CHAPTER FIVE

The Long Way Around

CHAPTER SIX

The River Trail

CHAPTER SEVEN

Secrets in the Desert

CHAPTER EIGHT

Neither Snow, nor Rain, nor Heat, nor Gloom of Night

CHAPTER NINE

The House That Jack Built

CHAPTER ONE

The Arkansas Travelers

EMILY

Hard pea sized pellets of ice peppered down on the domed top of the camper. Emily peeped out of the sleeping bag beneath a heavy blanket, there was only a dim dawn light. Not more than four steps from the bunk where she slept to the other end of the vintage travel trailer, if she stood right in the middle, even her arms nearly reached side to side. It would be another cold-ass day, she dreaded to move the few steps to the porta-potti. Gonna have to, was her unwelcomed thought. With a gentle push the little round ball of fur at her feet moved over. She sat upright, bent over and pulled insulated boots onto socked feet. Naturally curly dark brown hair sprang out wildly around her face, a stretchy band coiled on the table in front of her, she used it to push the hair away from her face.

Hey, lil' girl, she said through teeth that chattered and rustled her hand through the dog's soft fur. Gotta pee? me, too. She took an expandable leash from the table and hooked it to the leather collar. Two steps and she opened the camper door, looked around, not a soul in sight. She propped the door open, after all it couldn't get much colder inside. The dog jumped to the ground and she secured the end of the leash inside. The sleet had turned to nickel size snowflakes that melted as they hit the ground. In the compact toilet area, she took care of business, poured some water from a jug in the bowl. Good, the water isn't frozen. The waste gurgled away through the old sewer hook-up. She was one of only two inhabitants of the RV park. Sometimes she felt like the only person in the world, in reality it was just herself and Girl in her small world.

Girl had already jumped back inside and vigorously shook the wet off. She pulled the door shut and locked it. There, by the door hung her .38 in it's holster and the 30/30 rifle. On the top of the space where three useless burners sat under a metal cover, was her small cast iron hibachi cooker. She reached down in a basket and pulled out some twigs and small kindling, a couple of chunks of charcoal. Much as she hated to, she cracked the roll out window behind the stove. After rubbing her freezing fingers together she lit a piece of paper under the twigs, blew on it a bit and shortly, a small fire flickered in the cooker. She placed a two cup aluminum pot on the fire to brew a little coffee.

One thing about this space, it didn't take much to warm it up. In her thermal underwear, jeans and sweatshirt, it would soon be tolerable in the old camper. She rolled up her sleeping bag and left the blanket for Girl. When the coffee pot bubbled up she poured herself a cup and sat at the table. It was her morning habit—-pull out the mirror on a stand, run a brush through her hair and replace the wide band. From a small saucepan that shared the cooker with the coffee pot, she wet a washcloth with warm water and wiped off her face, brushed her teeth in the single one foot square sink. Back to the mirror she smeared a little make-up over her turned up nose and cheeks, her dark blue eyes reflected back at her. This routine wasexactly that, just a routine.

She convinced herself that the make-up protected her face and even the dog had to be able to tolerate looking at her. It was certainly not for anyone else because there wasn't anyone else. The hard truth was she had made it her job to carefully avoid any other human being. As of a year before, the last person that she loved and trusted had died.

When the mystery event happened fifteen years earlier that changed the world, she lived with her parents and younger sister in a rural area to the north. Her parents were both college educated, that didn't lessen their love for the country life and they actively pursued self sufficiency. Her father worked in the nearby city, however he considered it a fascinating challenge to accomplish any feat of independence; they gardened, canned, hunted, he experimented with solar and wind. The information and rumors that sifted down after the disaster indicated that an EMP had occurred, knocked out the electrical grid and even brought computerized transportation to a dead halt. They survived quite well in their country haven for the next few years.

After about five years, her younger sister became very ill in the winter and they lost her. Another five years and her father passed away and then a year ago, she lost her mother. Earlier there had been a few distant neighbors and they maintained contact for several months, some were around for a few years. Eventually, they were no longer there. At the age of thirty two, Emily was totally alone. All those years she had cared for her aging parents and just survived, she hardly knew what to do with herself.

She accompanied her father a few times over the years and they cautiously traveled into part of the city. Once, in an attempt to find medicine for her sister, with no luck. They spoke with a couple of people in the city. The information that networked around indicated that the recovery of everyday life ranged from non existent to very slow. It was told that communities and cities had grown up, some of them were controlled by bad groups and some of them were formed by good people. It also seemed that a few scattered towns were a mixture, actually more resembling cities in the Before world. Parts of the town inhabited with decent folks, who protected their boundaries with ferocity and parts were inhabited with those that were constantly up to no good. With no organized law, people made their own rules and enforced them. The town that sprawled out, down below the RV park that Emily had taken refuge in, was one of those variegated type cities.

JEFF and KEVIN

The donkeys waddled with their short legged gait, the clanging wagon with everything but the kitchen sink dangling from the sides, rolled along at the animals chosen pace. Jeff and his son sat on the seat across the front of the cart, both wore their baseball caps and T-shirts. It hadn't escaped Jeff's notice that his young son twisted and looked back, as long as he could see the four nice folks they met the night before. Through the dust that rose in a cloud behind them, the two couples and their horse drawn wagon faded away from his son's view. He knew this was a lonely life for a nine year old boy, was aware that Kevin missed his mother very much. So did he, the loss of the wife he cherished was like a sharp rock in his heart, everyday. The kind woman they had met and just left was a painful reminder of what they didn't have. That void was probably the reason for this life on the move. The life that everyone in America had known fifteen years ago had vanished in a moment. Kevin, now nine years old, knew no life that was different from living in the After. Somehow, Jeff felt like he could keep his son safer and happier, if they traveled, stayed on the move. He had never looked back to California.

It had also captured the boy's imagination and his own admittedly, when they started taking letters from folks they encountered. They could only promise to try their best, it wasn't a certainty, but they would try to deliver the letters as they traveled the country. It gave them a purpose, an occupation. Right now, in the canvas bag that hung on the side of the wagon, a new letter lay, a letter from the woman Ashley to family and friends in Texas. He hoped they would make it to the town of Unity, the place that the four had told him was a sanctuary for good folks. He planned to travel that direction sometime up ahead. The new letter joined about two dozen other letters in the bag that had been labeled US MAIL with a magic marker.

Skirting around the worst of the winter weather was always the important factor that determined where and when they traveled. Three nights later, Father and son made camp at a location near the New Mexico and Texas border. The wagon had a permanent slope sided tent cover. This was why all of their supplies and various and assorted treasures hung off the sides of the cart, to allow them room to sleep under shelter. Sometimes the tent top provided a shelter from rain or other harsh weather for long hours. Jeff made sure that they could stretch out and sleep or sit inside and eat, maybe play cards or a game. This evening they had some supper and played a couple of games of Gin Rummy by the light of an oil lantern. It was a chilly but clear night and both ends of the pointy tent were tied open.

Jeff didn't know how long he had been asleep, something made his eyes fly open. He laid still and listened, his hand moved to the pistol at his side. On his belly, he carefully raised up to peer over the back of the wagon. The last embers of the campfire glowed and the moon sprayed a mist of light around the area. The noise that awakened him came from near the fire, two dark forms routed and snuffled around the waning warmth. They were low and long, not as big as a coyote but much bigger than a jack rabbit. Those were the only two animals native to this dry area that he could bring to mind. One of the rounded heads, it's pointy ears pricked, jerked up and looked his way. There was a very low growl. Two large bug eyes glinted above a beak like nose and mouth. He muttered, What the hell are those? slowly raised his pistol.

He recalled the conversation he had with one of the men they met days before. When the man realized that Jeff and his son were headed back over the same territory he and his companions had just traveled through he told him about a strange animal his group encountered. He voiced a warning, I don't know that one alone would be dangerous, just because it wasn't that big. It was pretty darn vicious though, ripped that rabbit to shreds. If there happened to be several—-wouldn't want to tangle with them, he said to Jeff.

By that time, Kevin had eased up beside him, he looked out at the odd creatures. Dad, what are they? Wow, those are weird, he whispered. The small arm pulled a .22 rifle to his side.

One of the unusual creatures heard them, raised up on it's haunches to a height of a little over two feet. Light fur lined it's underside and a stubby tail was tucked under, the short legs ended in long claws. Just as Jeff thought of the man's warning and decided that this wasn't something to mess with, the creature made an odd squeaking sound and the pair scurried off into the night. He took a shot but the animals had moved into the darkness too quickly and he missed. They could be heard as they made the unfamiliar sounds that faded away.

Kevin rose up and sat cross legged in the back of the wagon. "Darn, Dad—-I don't think we've ever seen one of those things—-have we?

No, it's not exactly like any animal I have ever seen, Son. Jeff shook his head, They have to be some kind of new animal, a mutation or cross breed.

Think they're dangerous? asked the boy.

He chuckled a bit, They sure didn't look cuddly. I spotted some sharp claws and that was an unusual face, nearly looked like a big bird's beak. His son was young and he was smart. Actually he was his best friend and he usually was straight forward and honest with him.

They both sat up against the inside wagon walls for a while and finally laid back down and got four more hours sleep. No signs of the animals or clues remained around the campsite when the morning came. They stoked the fire up again, some bird's eggs that they found the day before and spam cooked on the flames. Jeff squatted with a cup of coffee in his hands, Kevin sat on the ground and sipped instant cocoa. You know, I've been thinking. It's a long ways across west Texas, said Jeff. He took out a map and spread it on the rocky ground, pointed at their present location, I think we'll head across the Panhandle, into Oklahoma and over into Arkansas. We might even travel down into Louisiana and then over to east Texas, his tanned finger traced that route across the States. We have letters for Oklahoma and at least one for Arkansas. The winter is pretty much the same in these southern states, milder than up toward the north and I think we'll have more water available in Oklahoma.

A grin crossed Kevin's freckled face, And there are those boogers...

The smile was returned, I won't kid you, Bud. That was some strange wildlife. You know your superstitious ole' father—-just like the idea of turning east. He folded the map away.

No argument from me. Let's give the donkeys some water and hit the trail. The boy kicked dirt on the fire and began to stow away the gear.

Jeff rose and stretched, he was of medium height, lean and tan with the life of being on the road. He kept his sun bleached brown hair cut short. In the before world, he was an engineer and a member of the National Guard, long hair just wasn't natural to him. Eyes that were to the brown side of hazel gazed out from under thick brows, a wide toothy smile caused a dimple on one side. His son looked much like a small replica of him, except for eyes that