The boy shed a few tears when he saw his sister’s body, but was indifferent to the two men who lay beside her. Kyle asked who they were, but Collin didn’t say. He just stared at his sister’s lifeless body. Kyle waited for a few uncomfortable minutes before finally insisting that it was time to leave, and to his surprise, Collin came without resistance. Kyle had initially debated whether or not to let the boy see his sister, but had figured the poor child couldn’t be any more scarred than he already was, and at least having seen Stacy dead, he would know he couldn’t go back to her.
With Garfield’s age and the weight of the load he was already carrying, Kyle decided to walk so that Collin could ride. The pace was a little slow, but likely no slower than it would have been with both of them riding, plus Collin seemed to find comfort in being on Garfield, something about the large, docile creature giving him a sense of security.
They walked until late that night, the moon lighting the way, until they found a pickup truck with a fifth wheel camper on the side of the road, giving them a good place to sleep for a few hours. After gathering handfuls of young pine needles for breakfast, they departed early the next morning.
Now they were just a couple of miles from his parent’s place, and Kyle was getting more anxious by the minute, anticipating and dreading what he might find when he arrived.
“What kind of vest is it that you’re wearing?” The sheriff’s voice startled Kyle, bringing him back to the present.
“I’m sorry. What was that?” Kyle asked.
“Your vest. What kind is it?”
Kyle paused, not sure what to tell the sheriff and not wanting to cause any problems this close to his destination.
“Look,” the man said. “I can see the bullet holes in your jacket, and you’re favoring your left arm. You don’t act like law enforcement, so I’m asking you about your armor. Not trying to trick you or anything, but we do try to be aware of who’s coming into our community.”
“Sorry,” Kyle said, glancing down at the holes in his jacket. “I don’t know much about it, just that it works. A friend gave it to me before I headed this direction. He was military and border patrol, so he probably got it from his work.”
“You’re still sore from being hit. Does it have anything to do with your companion?”
Kyle nodded, explaining what had happened in as tactful a manor as possible, and promising that he wasn’t there to make trouble. By now they were most of the way across the bridge, with the town ahead of them looking relatively peaceful. “How are things going here, sir?” Kyle asked.
“Just call me Greg, and actually, things are pretty good, at least compared to most places. We’re a small community, but we have the essentials-farms, food, some medical capacity, along with a secure location.” He nodded at the bridge they had just crossed, then pointed across town. “The river’s a natural barrier, so between the bridge here and the one in Bonner’s Ferry, we have natural choke points to defend. There’s only one big road coming from the North and no big population centers across the border in Canada, so no reason for significant threats to come at us from that direction, though that road is still guarded, in addition to the bridges.”
“Any problems to this point?”
Greg shook his head. “An uptick in crime for the first month, but we’ve been lucky. We’re an isolated agricultural community with lots of arable land, water, wood, infrastructure, a sawmill with more wood than we can use in a decade, a jail, and schools. I could go on.” He stopped and looked at Kyle. “Listen, we know how lucky we are, so we don’t want people coming in and messing things up. Visitors get escorted through town and sent on their way if they don’t have a reason to be here. I’ll be the one going to your parent’s place with you. If you are not who you say you are, don’t expect to be able to stay. If you do have a connection, welcome to Moyie Springs, but remember, we don’t tolerate much. We have enough information about what is going on in the bigger cities to know we want none of that here. If you step out of line, you’ll be dealt with harshly. Do you understand?”
Kyle raised his hands defensively. “Loud and clear. I have no intention of messing things up for my family. You really don’t need to worry about me.”
“Good.” the Sheriff said. “I’ve got better things to do with my time.”
They reached the far side of the ravine, with Collin still clinging tightly to the stirrup, and Kyle walking beside Greg. Another RV was parked just past the end of the bridge, and Greg told Kyle to wait while he went to the vehicle. The door swung open, and two armed men emerged, eyeing Kyle while they talked to the sheriff in hushed voices. Kyle talked to Collin while they waited, then hefted him back up on the horse. Eventually Greg returned, and the other two men retreated back into their RV.
The clouds had cleared away, and the sun was warming things up, causing the thin layer of snow on the road to melt off and mists of steam to rise in the cool air. “We good?” Kyle asked.
Greg nodded. “Just giving them a heads up. This side of town is pretty quiet, not many people coming through, so they’re curious. There are a lot of long, cold, boring days out here.
Greg followed Kyle’s lead, cutting back south along the top of the ridge that overlooked the river.
“What brought your parents here?” Greg asked as he scanned the far side of the river.
“Retirement. They were both teachers, retiring after thirty years in the profession. Mom taught fifth grade, and dad taught high school science. He still substituted here to keep busy. Mom grew up in Sandpoint, and loved the area. Dad is from Seattle, but had no desire to return, as big and crowded as it is anymore.”
“They chose well to not retire in Seattle. Much lower survival rates there. Lots of fighting going on.”
“Is there military involvement?” Kyle asked, his ears perking up.
Greg shook his head. “Nothing like that. Just too many people in too small a space with too few resources, and no sense of community for that matter.”
“I’ve worried about other countries coming over, especially to cities on the coast. You hear of anything like that?”
Greg laughed. “No. No invasions, at least not yet. To me, it wouldn’t make sense for anyone to do that, at least not yet.”
Kyle looked at him, surprised, and Greg continued. “First off, why put yourself in the middle of anarchy? A military force would have to restore some law and order, which would be a major drain on their resources. Anyone smart will just sit back and let us fight it out, then see what and who’s left when we’re all done. Hell, if the Chinese landed on the West Coast, it would give people someone to fight instead of each other. Probably do more to unify us than our government has in the last six months.”
“You don’t think they want our land or our stuff?”
“Nope,” Greg said, shaking his head vigorously. “We’re so far across the ocean it would be cheaper for them to manufacture it than to come over here, fight for it, and ship it back. Most of it probably came from China in the first place. They don’t need the land because their people don’t know to want what they don’t have, and besides, we took out most of their command infrastructure and have promised to drop the big one on them if they try anything, and they know we’re desperate. In other words, we should be good, if you consider our current status good.”
Greg smiled at Kyle. “You wonder what we talk about during the long, boring shifts at the end of the bridges?”
“Let me guess,” Kyle said, rubbing his chin. “Politics?”
Greg laughed, the first indication of humor he’d shown since they met. “Got it. My theory is that China just needs to hold tight for a few years until we’re ready to start buying again. We’ll have to replace everything, and I mean everything. Every factory owner in China is going to be crazy rich in a few years, just like America got after World War II when Europe had all their stuff bombed out and had to buy it from us. Amazing how things cycle through history.”