Date: Sun, 24 Jan 2016 17:17:08 +1300
From: arthur carkeek <artcart65@gmail.com>
Subject: the runner chapter 2

THE RUNNER

CHAPTER 2

BY

ARTHUR




CONTACT AUTHOR:

artcart65@gmail.com





Runs-Slow had been travelling for ten days since leaving the two men to the
desert. He had little qualms about their end and had forgotten them as soon
as he was a day away; there were
 more pressing things to do than worry about a couple of ambushers.

Runs-Slow had just refilled his gas tank with the last of his reserves and
was now trying to find more. He was sure he had passed through the Zuni
lands as was now into those of the Navajo; he still had a long way to go
before he could think of trying to find his cousin.

The land around him had not changed a great deal; most reservations were on
poor land and, in this area; most were desert or semi desert. He did notice
there were a few more real trees around and occasionally there would be a
patch of green grass to relieve the sameness of his surroundings.

Runs-Slow had kept his speed down not only to preserve the last of his gas,
but to also protect the small plastic trailer with all his goods. He was
desperate now to find more gas or an alternative form of transport; he did
not really want to dump his trailer and all it carried.

Runs-Slow had been taking his time; there was no hurry and speed would only
lead to mistakes; something he could not afford to do if he wanted to
survive.

It was late in the afternoon and he knew he was now getting very low on his
last tank of gas. As if in answer to his wishes; as he topped a low rise;
he saw a small town down below him; perhaps he could find some more gas
there. Runs-Slow eased the bike to roll as quietly as possible towards the
empty town.

As he entered the main street; his hopes were dashed as he saw the only
service station in the town was just a pile of ashes; Runs-Slow stopped his
bike and took up his rifle. He would now go on foot as it was far safer and
he would have the silence to help him.

The small town was worse off than he had first thought; more than one shop
was also now ashes; it looked as though someone had got there before him;
it was not a very good start.

Runs-Slow approached the mercantile store; it was the last shop before the
burnt out service station. With careful movements he looked around the
ruined door. It looked as though someone had begun to ransack it but had
been stopped by others.

On the floor were a large number of empty cartridge cases but most of the
stores stock was still on the shelves. As he turned to check out the
service station; Runs-Slow thought he saw a faint movement on the other
side of the street; letting his instincts take over; Runs slow dived for
the protection of the shop wall before anything happened.

Runs-Slow crawled to the nearest corner and then raised his head carefully
to peer through the broken window. Had it not been for his patience; he
might have missed the movement across the street. It was not much but
looked like a rifle barrel easing through the opposite doorway. Runs-Slow
waited and watched.

Runs-Slow could tell by the angle of the barrel that the gunman was lying
on the floor behind the doorway; he had to look for another way to approach
without being seen or shot at.  Looking around; Runs-Slow saw the rear door
of the shop; with great care and attention to what he was doing; Runs-Slow
moved backwards to the rear door; he would circle around and try to catch
the person unawares from behind.

Runs-Slow eased out the back door and saw it led to the burnt out service
station; what he saw began to make sense about the whole set up in the
town.

Lying in the burnt out forecourt of the service station were two charred
bodies; around them were a mass of empty cartridges from what could have
been military assault rifles; Runs-Slow crept past the station and quickly
ran across the road out of sight of the doorway where the rifleman was
waiting for him.

Runs-Slow eased along the narrow passage between the two buildings; as he
got to the corner; he peaked around to check if he had been seen. With no
one in sight; he eased further around the corner until he could look into
the shattered window the clothing store.

As his eyes took in the store room, he saw what appeared to be a pair of
old sneakers lying on the floor; one of them had a crust of dried blood on
them and, as he eased further around; he saw two legs clad in jeans. On the
same leg as the bloody sneaker there was a bloody bandage.

Easing further forward; Runs-Slow now saw the body of a man lying on the
floor; there was another patch of dried blood on the man's shoulder.

The man looked to be thin and his pitch black hair was cut close to his
collar; his chequered shirt as rumpled and well worn. It looked as though
the man was having trouble keeping his rifle off the floor and his head
would occasionally drop to rest on the floor.

Runs-Slow did not want to take any chances; even a wounded man could be
dangerous. Runs-Slow poked his rifle through the broken window and cocked
the hammer; the clicking sound had an immediate effect on the man on the
floor.

The man seemed to sigh in resignation as he let the rifle drop and opened
his hands in defeat; slowly and painfully, he rolled onto his back to look
at the person that had caught him so easily.

There was a long pause as the two looked at each other; for Runs-Slow it
was a bigger shock than he thought it would be. The rifleman was not a man
but a teen much like himself; he was also not white but looked to be a half
cast; the two boys looked at each other in wonder; Runs-Slow was the first
to speak.

"Aho brother; I am Runs-Slow of the Chiricahua. I do not wish to kill you
so do you give your word not to cause me any trouble?"

"You have my word. I am Peter Fox and I need help."

Runs-Slow walked to the open door and entered; as he walked in he gently
pushed the rifle aside just in case Peter did not honour his word.

"You are badly hurt; are the bullets still inside your shoulder and leg?"

"No, they went right through but I need help to clean them properly; I've
been stuck here since yesterday because I didn't want to take a chance more
of those men were still around."

"What happened?"

Runs-Slow looked around the store for clean cloth and water as he listened
to what Peter told him about the shooting while he began to clean the two
wounds.

"I came down from the north; I was just looking for food or anything I
could use. I was in here looking for new clothes when those men
arrived. They didn't even call out but just started shooting from the
mercantile shop. I got lucky and winged one of them and then they made a
run for the service station. One of them hit me in the leg and I couldn't
run from here; I guess I got lucky and hit the gas tank or something but
the other man shot me in the shoulder just before the station blew up and
killed them. I've been stuck here since; I heard your bike come into town
and thought you were some of their friends coming back."

"You look to be of the People; what is your tribe?"

"I'm not sure; my father was from Washington State and I think my mother
was half Paiute; at least that is what she told me a long time ago."

"Then you are of the People. How did you come here?"

"I had an old truck but the other three men took it when the station blew
up so I guess I'm stuck here unless you can help me."

"Let me fix your wounds then we can talk more and work out what to do. Have
you eaten since yesterday?"

"No, I couldn't get out of here."

"Let me finish the new bandages and then I will help you to another place
and get some food. I have seen no one for days so I think the other men are
no longer around; we should be safe for the night and I will keep guard as
well."

Runs-Slow finished the bandaging and then helped Peter to get to his feet;
being a little smaller in build than Peter; Runs-Slow had a bit of a job
helping him to cross over to the mercantile store. After leaving Peter in
the store; Runs-Slow went back to the end of town to get his bike and
trailer and drove it slowly back to the store.

After parking the bike under cover; Runs-Slow went inside to see how Peter
was getting on. He found his new friend fast asleep near the back of the
store and seated in an old rocking chair. Not wanting to wake Peter;
Runs-Slow went through the store to see what he could make for a meal. It
didn't take long before he had a pot of stew warming.

Once the food was hot; Runs-Slow woke Peter and handed him a bowl of stew
along with a hot drink. The two sat in companionable silence as they
ate. Once finished the two young teens were ready for sleep; Runs-Slow
helped Peter to a laid out bedroll while he himself went closer to the door
and lay down there; anyone wanting to get in to hurt the two boys would
have to step over him first.

As the first hint of morning light filled the store; Runs-Slow rose and
went to look around the town, just to make sure there were no others
around. Satisfied they were both alone; Runs-Slow returned to the store to
waken Peter. They would eat and then he had to try to find fuel for the
bike; he would also search for anything that may be of use in the future.

It was a foregone conclusion that Peter would go with him; he had a few
things already in the trailer that his new friend could use, but it did not
stop him from taking anything he thought they might need. Fuel was the
hardest to find. Runs-Slow, along with the helpful suggestions of Peter;
went from vehicle to vehicle to siphon gas from any tank he found with
fuel.

A search of the main store room also produced a number of small 1 gallon
tins of gas normally used for lawn mowers and other small gardening
equipment. The addition of a couple more rifles and shot guns gave them
plenty of extra fire arms.

With the scrounging of fuel cans and vehicle fuel tanks; Runs-Slow managed
to fill three of his own spare containers; he now had enough fuel for
another ten days or so. Peter would ride on the bike with him; it would be
more comfortable than sitting high on the trailer; it would also allow him
to keep watch as Runs-Slow watched the trail ahead.

With more than half the day gone while he was searching; Runs-Slow decided
they should stay one more night; it would also help Peter to heal just a
little more; he would be of no use to Runs-Slow if he became too sick to
help in an emergency.

The next morning, Runs-Slow checked everything in the trailer and got ready
to leave the small town. Runs-Slow helped Peter onto the back of the bike;
taking care to make sure he was comfortable and did not have any pain from
his two wounds.

Peter now carried a new rifle while Runs-Slow still kept his own ready on
the handle bars up front; with a last look around; Runs-Slow put the bike
into gear and started back for the highway; they would follow that for a
few more miles and then turn off onto a secondary road; he was now sure
that he was well clear of the Zuni lands and well into those of the Navajo.

The land around them had changed only marginally from what Runs-Slow had
already travelled; it would be some time before they came to the better
land of the northern tribes.

As before, Runs-Slow travelled slowly; not only to conserve fuel and keep
watch on the road ahead; but to also try to make Peter's situation improve
and not relapse from his wounds.  In the evenings, Runs-Slow set up camp;
started the pot cooking and then changed Peter's bandages. Each day showed
an improvement of the wounds and, after six days Peter was almost better;
there had been no infection and the wounds now had a firm crust to seal the
opening of the bullet hole.

The previous day they had turned off the highway and onto a secondary road;
it was still easy going but they were now headed more north/west than
directly north. Runs-Slow had told Peter that he felt it would be safer to
stay on back roads as he thought most people would ride the highway.

For the last six days they had still not seen any other people; from his
seat on the back of the bike; Peter kept a good vigil as they slowly
motored ahead. The trailer had been ideal so far but Runs-Slow was trying
to think ahead. As time passed there would be less and less fuel to keep
the bike running; he had to find another way and he did not want to lose
the trailer and its carrying capacity; not with two of them working from
it.

They had travelled for another day when they came into another small
farming town; most of the shops and houses had been ransacked but Runs-Slow
decided they should stop and look around; in the back of his mind he still
wanted to find another means of transport.

Peter was now able to move around a lot better; although Runs-Slow had cut
a cane for him to ease the pressure on his wounded leg. The two boys stayed
together as they looked through the remains of the town. It was Peter that
came up with the idea after seeing a larger car trailer parked untouched in
a driveway.

"Can you ride a horse Runs-Slow?"

"Of course I can; who of the people cannot?"

"I can't; I never had the chance to learn."

"Why do you ask?"

"If you could catch two horses we could probably be able to fix this
trailer to be towed by horses. It's large enough for both of us to ride on
and carry far more things for us; we just need two horses and some work to
change the front tow bar so we can attach the horses."

"That sounds like a good thing; can you think of what would be needed to
make the trailer good for horses?"

"Yes I think so; I may need a little time to perfect it but it can't be too
hard."

"Good, if you can work on that I'll go and see if there are still horses
around. This is a farming town like the others we have passed; there should
be horses somewhere. I'll unhook the trailer and take the bike to look;
keep your rifle by your side at all times and keep watch all around; you
can never tell when someone might like to steal this from us."

"I'll do that; how long will you be away?"

"I don't know but I will be back before dark even if I find no horses; just
be careful and keep watch while you work."

"I will, I'll try to get something cooking for our dinner as well. I'm not
really a good cook but it can't be that hard."

"Good, I will see you before dark."

Peter watched as Runs-Slow left the centre of town towards the surrounding
countryside; he then turned back to look at the larger car trailer; his
problem was how to attach something so that two horses could be attached to
pull the trailer.

Peter went into one of the houses close by; after looking through rooms, he
finally found what he was looking for. Peter carried the sketch pad outside
and, along with a handful of pens and pencils; sat with his back against a
nearby post and began to draw his ideas on the pages.

Peter found his main problem was not knowing how wide or long the tow bar
would have to be; that part he would have to wait until his new friend
returned. Next he worked on fixing a seat at the front; from there came the
idea of putting a cover over the trailer so they could sleep inside if they
wanted to. Peter got down to work with his designs; they would be rough at
this stage but; once he had horses he could improve on them.

It was late in the afternoon when Peter thought he heard something far
off. Taking his friends words seriously; Peter took up his rifle and went
outside to look around. The sound was coming from the same direction that
Runs-Slow had gone but, he had been told to be careful and not take any
chances.

Peter grasped his rifle closer as he limped to the end of town; always
staying close to the walls of buildings for cover. When he got to the end
of town he looked out towards where Runs-Slow had gone; in the distance he
saw movement but it was not what he expected to see.

Peter waited and watched as the small dots got closer; finally he got up
and walked out into the road as the small dots got bigger and showed his
friend on the bike with two large horses following along behind; they had
to get closer before he could see the rope holding the horses to the slow
moving bike. They had their new transport; all that was needed now was to
rework the trailer to take them and anything more they found in the town.

Runs-Slow pulled up close to Peter; the two horses stopped and began to
look for grass as they snorted their approval of the halt.

"Aho brother; what have you found for us to use?"

"This tandem trailer will be best; I know a little about welding but
nothing about horses or how we can fix them to pull it."

"Leave the harness to me; I'll find something to work with as long as you
can fix the trailer. I have very little gas left so we will have to stay
here until we can make the trailer ready."

"Will we be safe here?"

"I don't know; we will just have to be careful. What do you need for your
welding?"

"Well we have no electric power, but if I can find the right gas bottles I
can use brazing instead but I'm still not sure how we make the trailer for
the horses to pull it."

"I have an idea but let's get the horses settled in a safe place and then
we can talk about it; between us we should be able to come up with
something that will work."

Runs-Slow jumped off the bike and took the lead with the two horses; he
then went to find a place close by to peg them out so they would have both
feed and water.

Once he was done and felt the horses would not roam and had plenty of feed
and water; Runs-Slow went to find Peter; he found his new friend in the
same place they had spent the previous night; there was food cooking and he
was ready for a rest; it had been a long day.

As they ate; the two boys talked over how to fix the trailer. Many ideas
were thrown out as unfit or not suitable for their needs; finally they came
up with an idea that looked as though it would work; the next morning would
be spent trying to find what they needed. It looked as though they would be
staying for a few more days yet.

Far away to the north; in fact it was only a few miles from the Canadian
border; a young man looked down at the drying blood on the floor of the
house. Tears fell from his young eyes as he tried to reconcile what had
happened. His head ached and his vision was still a little blurry; the
blood caked on his temple told of where the pool of blood had come from.

Clarence, (who preferred to be called Clarry) O'Rourke was seventeen and
had come from a large family; now there were only two of them left; himself
and his little brother Liam; the younger boy was still in hiding and would
not appear until Clarry called him to do so.

The last twenty four hours had nearly been the total undoing of the
family. Clarry's parents and two older brothers died when the virus hit the
small town; it left him with the responsibility of his little brother; ten
year old Liam and his two sisters; the elder was only sixteen and the other
was fifteen; now both were also gone.

Clarry felt as though his whole world had just collapsed around him and
there was little he could do to stop it. They had been happy to stay in
their small home after the disaster.  It was a place they all knew and they
felt safe there.

For the last two months they had found peace and had all worked to keep
their family together; now it was once again torn apart. The men had come
late in the night; the attack had been sudden and brutal. Clarry had just
managed to get Liam into hiding in the underground cellar before the men
broke down the door; knocked Clarry to the floor with a vicious punch and
then started on the two young girls before they could run.

The rape of his sisters while he was trussed up and made to watch only
fuelled the flames of hate that Clarry never knew he had. When the six men
had finished, they had tied the girls up and taken them out to their
vehicle; the last man out the door had turned suddenly and fired a shot at
the boy on the floor.

Fortunately for Clarry; the bullet had just skimmed across his temple and;
while it knocked him back on the floor and sprayed blood about; the man
must have thought he was dead as he left without looking back; How long he
was unconscious, Clarry had no idea but the ropes holding him bound had
somehow come loose enough for him to free his hands and then his feet.  It
was time to get his brother and find a way out of this town; there was
nothing left for them now.

Clarry went to the hidden door in the floor of the kitchen and called out
to Liam; he heard a muffled answer and it took only seconds for him to open
the hatch and free his last remaining sibling; there was much to do and he
would find the time later to mourn the loss of his sisters.

Clarry looked out the kitchen window; the sun was sinking once again into
the west; he had been out of it nearly all day and most of the previous
night; there was little hope of finding his two missing sisters now; he
would have to concentrate on his little brother. To this end he began to
make plans to get far away from this place; it held too many memories; some
good but lately most were bad.

Later that night; after they had eaten and Clarry was sitting on the family
sofa holding a crying Liam tightly to his chest; Clarry began to make plans
and he would have to make a list of what they would need. Clarry hoped that
the men had not found his father's pride and joy sitting under a canvas
cover out in the small garage.

Clarry's father had brought his family to the states ten years ago. In his
younger days he had been a member of the feared Sinn Fein but; once married
and with a growing family; he had put aside his hatred of the British and
settled down to raise them with good old fashioned Irish standards.

Clarry's father was a died in the wool, proud and staunch Irishman. The
language and traditions had been upheld and each and every child had been
brought up in a respectful and polite manner. Ten years ago he had decided
to move his family to the states; they had settled in this small town where
his father had worked hard as a mechanic. They had made the trip by boat
and not by the normal airline as was more popular; the reason for the boat
was all put down to the need to take with him his pride and joy.

Clarry had once asked why; with his father's distaste of the English had he
insisted on transporting the Ex-military long wheel base Land-Rover; his
father's reply almost surprised Clarry.

"You see son; while I have little or no time for the English, they did make
one thing that surpasses every other vehicle ever made and that's the old
Land-Rover; they don't rust because they are made from Aluminium; their
small four cylinder engine does not even know how to break down and their
four wheel drive system will take that old bus up the side of a brick wall
without slowing down. If you ever need a vehicle that will never let you
down but is also easy to repair if you ever need to; then the old girl is
the one to have."

Clarry now had a new perspective on the old Land-Rover; he had been in it
when his father had taken the whole family far away to the seaside; six
kids and two adults in the vehicle and it hardly even slowed. In mud, sand
or snow; the old Land-River had never let them down; even when the locals
had laughed at the quaint little car among their large gas guzzlers.

The old Land-Rover still looked as good as it did the day his father had
bought it at a military auction for disused equipment; he had then used the
money that would have given them an easy flight on a plane to pay for the
cargo costs on a ship; the family travelled on the ship with the car; his
father would not have it any other way.

The duel axel trailer; which was also out in the back of the shed, would
give him a greater carrying capacity; he would need to check it over as it
had not been used since last year's vacation. It also was from the same
auction and had been a mobile workshop; his father had told him it was for
the troops that they called `tail end Charlie' the last vehicle in a convoy
that would stop to repair anyone that broke down when in convoy from one
place to another.

The large trailer had everything in it; fuel cooker; food storage bins; a
small generator and more tools than he knew what to do with; there was even
a small electric welder that could be plugged into the generator. There was
a place for personal items down the centre of the trailer and the sides
dropped down to reveal the tool kits and supplies. The thick and strong
canvas cover could be opened out and supported by four poles, became a
large tent with the trailer as the back wall.

Clarry sat with Liam curled up beside him most of the night as he filled
page after page with what he thought they might need. His family had never
had guns in the house; his father would not hear of it; now he had to
change his way of life or lose both of theirs.

Clarry had never had a gun in his hands in his life; after the disaster
with his sisters, his view changed; no one would ever hurt them again. The
men had taught him a costly but valuable lesson; when it came to their
safety he would not hesitate; no one was going to hurt either of them
again; not while he had breath in his slim body. The famous Irish temper
was now close to the surface and only god would help anyone wanting to do
the two of them any harm.

Clarry was not aware that he had fallen asleep; it was the soft voice of
Liam that made him open his eyes to a new day. There was a lot to do but
first he had to get cleaned up; the dried blood was going to be a bitch to
clean off and he didn't want Liam to worry too much.

An hour later and Clarry was ready to meet a new day; taking up his long
list; he prepared to get to work; there was a lot to prepare and many
things to be found before they could leave this small town of bad memories.

It took most of that first day just to check all the equipment they already
had as well as starting the old car and pulling out the heavy trailer to be
checked over as well. Liam helped his big brother as much as he could; he
did most of the fetching and carrying of the smaller and lighter items as
his big brother packed and checked things off his lists.

The raid on every house and store in the town almost made Clarry feel
guilty but the picture of his two lost sisters drove him on with a
determination he did not know he had.  Occasionally he would see little
Liam stop and a few tears would appear on his young cheeks; Clarry could do
nothing but admire his little brother when he saw the boy shake his head
and turn back to his tasks with a face like thunder. The small boy was
turning his sorrow into a new strength and no one was going to stop him
from finding the men that took his older sisters.

At times like those; Clarry could almost see a bit of his father's stubborn
strength in Liam's face and the way he would turn back to his tasks with
determination; the anger the little boy had was almost palpable in the air
but the little boy held it in. It was during the night that Liam would let
his anger come out and the tears would flow as he thought of the things his
sisters did for him when he was small.

The last thing Clarry had to do was decide where they would go; Maine was
as far north as you could get and he wanted to head south to a warmer, and
hopefully; safer place but they were a long way from anywhere; it was time
to get out the maps and plan their journey.

Distance was not really a problem; the Land-Rover had a twenty five gallon
gas tank; it would give them over four hundred miles of travel before
refilling. On the back of the car were two ten gallon metal jerry cans and
at the front of the trailer was a rack that sat on the draw bar; it held
another ten, ten gallon jerry cans.

Clarry had siphoned every car tank in the town as well as hand pumping gas
from the service station tanks; altogether he had enough gas to cover
between two thousand and three thousand miles; he would also have to keep
an eye out for chances to refill the jerry cans as they travelled.

Clarry looked over the many road maps his father had collected over the
last ten years; slowly and with a lot of rechecking; Clarry worked out a
probable route; most of their food stuff was canned or dried; it was the
weapons that concerned Clarry the most; neither of them knew anything about
firearms.

Clarry decided to spend the last day in the small town for practice and to
work out how to use all the weapons they had amassed in their search; he
had been surprised at how many guns were in such a small town.

Clarry planned his trip with care; from Maine they would head south but
stay well away from major cities or large towns; it would mean using mainly
back roads and only use a highway when they were well away from cities.

He planned the route through the top of New Hampshire, skirting Montpelier
in Vermont and then cut across New York State through the tip of
Pennsylvania and down through Ohio between Cleveland and Columbus.

It was going to be a long trip as they would then have the long haul
through Indiana and Illinois; once there Clarry would decide where they
would go after that. He determined he would only go into towns or cites to
find gas if the need arose or to replace their food stocks.

The last day before their departure had finally arrived. At the far end of
town, Clarry had set up targets in the form of empty bottles and cans; it
was time to learn to shoot. He had gone to the small school library to find
books about guns and had had no luck. Next he had gone to the local sports
store and he had found everything he needed as well as what seemed to be
unlimited ammunition.

Clarry had spent all of the last evening reading every book he had; much of
it had been totally confusing until he had gone and collected each weapon
they had; once the gun was in front of him; he found it easier to
understand what the book was telling him. Liam had sat beside him and read
along as they both handled the weapons one by one to get familiar with
them.

Clarry found a small shotgun for Liam; it was an over and under 410 gauge;
he carefully cut the barrels down so it was lighter in Liam's smaller
hands; it would be the ideal weapon for Liam as he sat inside the old
Land-Rover. The larger rifles and hand guns were going to be used by Clarry
although he had put aside a small automatic .22 rifle for Liam.

In the front of the Land-Rover there were three narrow seats; Liam would
sit on the far side close to the window; Clarry made a rough wooden box
that he set on the middle seat; it was sectioned off to take five hand
guns; the barrels were faced downward and the handgrips were close to where
he could reach them easily.

All the other weapons were neatly stacked in the back of the vehicle or
fastened into a large box in the trailer; those in the back of the car were
ready to hand if they were ever needed as the rack he had put up was right
behind his seat and ran the full width of the car.

The two brothers worked hard all day on target practice; judging distance
and sighting had taken most of the morning but; early in the afternoon they
could see great improvements; Liam especially liked his little cut down
shot gun. He would walk up to within ten feet of the target and fire one
barrel after the other so quickly it almost sound like they were fired
together.

Liam looked so pleased each time he saw the pillow that had been hung up
for him as a target; explode into a show of feathers; he went through a lot
of pillows which Clarry was only too glad to put up for him; god help
anyone that riled the small boy and got too close.

The next morning; Clarry had Liam seated and ready with his small sawn off
in his hands. Clarry walked around one last time to check the vehicle and
trailer; he knew he had little to worry about; his father had kept the
Land-Rover in almost showroom condition; both outside and
mechanically. They were as ready as they would ever be. Clarry got into the
driver's seat and started the old Land-Rover; the four cylinder engine
fired immediately and settled into the familiar purr as he put it into gear
and drew away from the only home they had known in America.

Clarry had made a clip board for the maps so he could keep watch on where
to go and which places he had marked to be avoided. There was a light
drizzle falling as they moved out of the small town; the swish, swish of
the wipers kept the Perspex windows clear as they drove out onto the open
road.

Liam was sitting up on a thick cushion so he could see more easily through
the windscreen; neither boy used the seat belts; Clarry had said they may
need to get out quickly and the belts would only slow them down; he did not
plan to drive faster than he felt he was capable of. One thing they had on
their side was time and there was no need to speed and get into trouble.

Clarry drove all day and only stopped for a cold meal at midday. Late in
the afternoon; Clarry looked at the map; they had made good time and he saw
where he had marked a dot for a camp site; it was on the edge of the lake
in upper New York State; just over the border from Vermont.

When they pulled into the empty park; Clarry was happy to see no signs of
anyone around; the stillness of the lake and the silence in the park was
almost reassuring; only the sound of birds disturbed the quiet as they
pulled up on the shore of the lake.

Clarry had turned the vehicle around to face the road in case they needed
to make a fast getaway; they had not seen a single person the entire day
but he was not going to take any chances. Clarry reached behind the seat
and took out the lever action rifle; after tucking one of the pistols in
his waist band; he stepped from the vehicle and once again checked the land
around them.

When Clarry was happy that they were totally alone; he signalled for Liam
to join him; the two boys looked at the tranquil lake and smiled to each
other; there was just enough time for a quick swim and then it would be
time to cook and sleep.

Clarry stood on the bank as Liam splashed around in the shallows; neither
boy was a strong swimmer but that did not stop them from having a little
fun. When Liam had had enough, he ran naked from the water and took up
position as guard after he had dressed and watched while Clarry had his
short splash.

Clarry had pulled out the tent cover from the trailer; after quickly
cooking eggs and smoked bacon; the two boys sat side by side to eat; they
would get an early night and be on their way early in the morning. Liam
snuggled up close to his brother; he still missed his sisters and needed
the comfort of family so he could rest at night.

The next morning they were up early; after a cereal breakfast and a hot
coffee for Clarry; the two boys got into their car after breaking camp; and
left for places unknown. Clarry was well aware he would have to shoot game
to keep meat in their diet; how to butcher it was another matter; it was
something he had no idea how to do; it was time to keep a watch for a
library.

They drove for more than two hours before he found what he was looking
for. They were now almost in the middle of New York State; the small town
they were now in had what looked like a good library; he hoped it had what
he needed.

Clarry was too wise to just drive helter-skelter into the town. Stopping
outside; Clarry watched and waited as he inspected what he could see of the
town; apart from a few dogs wandering around, there seemed to be no one
alive and there was the distinct old smell of death.

Clarry gave it another half hour before getting back in the Land-Rover and
driving towards the middle of town; what he thought was the library looked
to be on one side of the small square; on the other was the church and the
third side held what looked like the council chambers; the fourth side had
a street running from it lined with closed stores.

Once again a twinge of conscience ran through Clarry as he forcibly broke
into the library; the crash of breaking grass even made the two boys jump
as though expecting someone to appear and arrest them.

It was dim inside the library although there was just enough sunlight
streaming through the windows to faintly see the mass of books on the many
shelves.

Clarry walked around the shelves until he found the section he wanted; it
was mainly all about "how to do" stuff; Clarry began his search for a book
on butchering. It surprised Clarry to see so much information available if
only one were to look for it.

Clarry found a book that would help him but, in the process he picked out a
few more that he thought may come in handy as the two boys travelled
onward. On his return to the front of the library, Clarry saw Liam with an
arm load of books; he smiled at his brother as the boy dropped his arm load
into a trolley nearly filled with other books.

"What have yee there Liam?"

"I got all the books I always wanted to read; is it Ok to take them; please
Clarry; it's not really all that many."

Clarry smiled and just nodded; he saw that one lot of books neatly stacked
on top was the full series of Harry Potter; Liam's favourite story
book. Clarry shook his head; added his own books to the trolley and pushed
it outside with Liam running alongside with his sawn off shot gun at the
ready.

Back at the car, Clarry carefully unloaded the books into the back of the
Land-Rover; it was a tight squeeze but he made it work; especially those
belonging to Liam. His little brother deserved something of his own.

Clarry started the car and drove westward; they would stop for the night
just inside the border with Pennsylvania; they would stop early so Liam had
time to read a little of his favourite book before dark.



TBC.