The Burning Fields (Surviving the Fall 5)

Dianne stood up and brushed the dry grass and dirt off of her pants and hands. “Because that’s the building we’re going to fill with traps and alarms.”

Mark’s eyes widened as an unknown childhood fantasy was simultaneously discovered and on the verge of being fulfilled. “Traps?”

“And alarms.” Dianne shrugged her shoulders. “But mostly traps.”

Chapter 7

Somewhere in Colorado

Rick pulled hard on the steering wheel, grunting as he tried to keep from falling out of his seat. The behemoth of a vehicle skidded along the road, feeling as though it might tip over right up until when he finally straightened it back out. Rick glanced in the side mirror and saw the last exit for the city of Grand Junction fading in the distance. A pair of dilapidated old cars came barreling down the off-ramp and onto the highway after Rick but they were too late to catch up to him.

Rick sighed and glanced at the fuel gauge again, relieved that he had been able to fill it up before he had been forced to leave the city. After passing through the majority of it via an overpass without incident he had chosen an out-of-the-way gas station near the edge to fill up the cans and tank before making his climb over the Rockies.

Just as he was finishing up with filling the tank he had noticed movement in a nearby building as the hairs on the back of his neck started to stand on end. Rick had barely been able to get back into the Humvee before all hell broke loose. Shots rang out at the Humvee from the building across the street, though they were all small caliber and bounced harmlessly off of the armor and reinforced glass.

Rick had calmed down slightly once he realized he wasn’t in immediate danger. He drove away from the buildings as quickly as he could, feeling exceptionally grateful for the protection offered to him by the Humvee. On his way back towards the highway he noticed the two old cars pursuing him and accelerated. His drive around the obstacles on the on-ramp to the highway was not without peril but thanks to his deft driving he was able to quickly evade his pursuers.

Rick’s encounter with the gang in Los Angeles and his experience in Las Vegas left him wanting to avoid conflict wherever possible. He was exercising extreme caution while around cities and constantly scanning his surroundings even while on the road. The close call at Grand Junction did, however, help him in one way—deciding which route to take.

Although Rick had spent a week in a cell at Nellis Air Force Base his treatment there was far superior to what he had experienced in the city proper. With Denver being such a large, sprawling city he had no doubt that there would still be large numbers of people there and he didn’t want to find out how they were behaving or what condition the city was in. Even if he were to be detained at the fort he figured that there was a greater than fifty percent chance of the conditions there being better than any of the other cities, including Denver.

For that reason he had turned off of Interstate 70 and onto Interstate 50. The route would take him south through desert and farmland and would—after crossing over the Rockies—dump him out near Colorado Springs, Fort Carson and NORAD. The suggested route from his GPS unit had him following I-50 all the way around the majority of the mountainous terrain but the distance was significantly longer than going straight through.

With a full tank of gas and both reserve cans full Rick calculated that he could just make it to the mili

tary base if he took a few smaller roads through the mountains. The extra benefit of doing so was that he would avoid many of the cities and towns along the way that no doubt held many more people who were more interested in shooting first and asking questions later.

With a final glance in the side mirror Rick relaxed and sank back as far as he could into his uncomfortable seat. This, he thought, is going to suck.

***

Rick was four hours into an estimated five-and-a-half hour trip when the snowstorm blew in. The darkening clouds behind him had formed shortly after he left Grand Junction but he had managed to stay ahead of them through most of the mountains. The sheer cliffs, staggering peaks and array of wildlife and natural beauty had tempted him to stop to rest and enjoy the views but the encroaching threat of a storm spurred him to dangerous speeds along the mountain roads.

Following both natural and man-made paths through the mountains, the roads through the Rockies varied between life threatening and serene moment to moment. Exposed rock faces with loose rocks and gravel were interspersed with cliffs that dropped off into valleys filled with pines. The only protection offered against hurtling off to a certain death was a short and rusty guardrail that Rick had no doubt would offer little resistance to the Humvee. Driving along and avoiding the occasional destroyed car was relatively easy, though, since he could simply drive in the middle of the road without fear of running into any other cars.

The easy and fast drive quickly turned treacherous and ponderous with the arrival of a storm that made the blizzard he had encountered previously look like a few flurries. Wind battered at the heavy vehicle, jolting it from side to side. Rick tried to keep the vehicle’s speed up for the first twenty minutes or so but eventually had to slow down after his first turn resulted in him sliding the vehicle up against a rock face. Ten minutes later the tires began slipping on the ice and snow and he had to slow down again. While much of his journey was uphill he was starting to worry about what would happen when he reached the apex of his climb and had to start going down again.

It was at that apex, when Rick was driving along a flat open area in a small valley between the peaks that the storm began to weaken. The driving snow turned into flurries and the clouds broke, revealing the blue sky above. The next corner offered Rick a view of some of the deep valleys below him and he slowed the Humvee to a crawl partially to ensure he didn’t go flying off the edge and partially to gape in awe at the view.

Rows of pine trees that had yet to be covered in snow stretched out far towards the horizon. They rose again on the opposite side of the valley, stopping at the timberline where the bare rock and perpetual snow began to take over. The area off to the east was clear enough that Rick was astounded to be able to see the vague outline of distant cities.

“It’s beautiful.” Rick whispered the first words he had spoken all day, captivated by the sight in front of him. The majesty of the landscape left him dumbfounded and barely able to think. He slowed the Humvee from a crawl to a stop, parking it near a rock face opposite the steep cliff that sloped down into the valley. He grabbed his rifle and got out of the vehicle, running to the opposite side of the three-lane road.

Rick stopped at the guard rail and marveled at the sight for several minutes, taking in the frigid mountain air with deep breaths. Each one seemed to imbue him with a renewed sense of energy and purpose. By the time he noticed that the storm was beginning to pick up strength again he was already covered with snow and shivering uncontrollably. Despite his discomfort he remained elated and encouraged by the pristine sights as he ran back to the Humvee to dry off and get back on the road.

The natural wonder and beauty of the mountains and valleys had been the reminder Rick needed that not all was lost. His relative numbness towards being shot at in Grand Junction and how mildly he had reacted towards the incident made him realize that he was starting to get used to what was going on. Seeing something as close to perfection as what he was witnessing while traversing the mountains was both refreshing and palate cleansing. The horrors and disasters in the world weren’t all-encompassing, after all.

Exactly two minutes later Rick’s brightened mood darkened again as he heard the distant sound of engines drawing closer, their powerful whines cutting through the noise of the storm. The din of the engines sounded at first like enormous trucks but once Rick noticed that the sound was actually coming from above him he realized that his very life was in danger of being snuffed out.

Chapter 8

The Water’s Homestead

Outside Ellisville, VA

It was in the mid-afternoon after lunch when Dianne and her three children were hard at work out behind the house when they heard the faint rumble of an engine through the trees. Jacob had been the first to hear it and he had dutifully charged across the small field from where he was busy measuring panels on a barn door.

“Mom! I heard a car!”