Entering the airport, we kept a watch for any sign of changes since our last visit. That could mean that other survivors had moved in to the facility or that something had happened to attract more dead. We noticed no changes and Regina pulled The Traveler to a stop on the north taxiway. While Phil and I covered them from atop the rig, Thomas and Mikey setup claymore mines around our location.
The Claymore mine was introduced during the Vietnam War of the 1960's. An anti-personnel mine, it sprayed an arc of steel ball bearings out in a single direction. This allowed it to be used in situations where the older omni-directional mines would cause as much harm to their users as to the enemy. We built ours using a stable black-powder based explosive paste and steel ball bearings in old iron pans. The pans helped direct the blast and ball bearings into an arc in front of the mine. They were effective, but much cruder that the US military version.
Maurice and Carol also went out to plant trip flares and firepots. These would activate if someone or something tripped the trigger wire. The flares would shoot up into the sky and slowly descend on their attached parachute while lighting up the area. This served two purposes, one it highlighted targets for us and second; the dead seemed fascinated by moving lights at night. This gave us an advantage. The firepots were small clay pots filled with chemicals that would produce a large bright flame. These would illuminate whatever set them off as well as blind human attackers momentarily.
Settling in for the evening, Phil started cooking supper. Trained as a professional chef at some point in his life, whenever possible we let him cook. Since we had fresh meat and vegetables, he cooked a chicken and served it over rice with the vegetables on the side. A bottle of white wine and a pitcher of tea completed the meal. Now that we had refrigeration to keep fresh meat for long periods we would eat well for some time to come. Roy's shop crew in Blacksburg had brought refrigeration and freezer capabilities into our trailer, which almost seemed like a miracle after doing without for so long.
Supper was a pleasant affair with some members of the team, both male and female, regaling us with stories of their romantic escapades while we were at Blacksburg. Tito bragged about a fine bottle of scotch he had won during the shooting contest between Roy and me. When I told him betting against the boss was grounds to be left behind, he informed me that I had to pay my employees in order to be considered the boss. That discussion quickly fell into a back and forth of increasingly silly threats and comebacks.
Finally the rest of the crew could not take it anymore and started throwing things at us. This devolved into a free-for-all fight with cups, balled napkins, and other items. Food was too scarce for a food fight. In the end, everyone was laughing so hard, no one could continue. This was how I wanted to see my crew; rested, happy, and easy with each other. I knew that all too quickly the tight confines and constant danger would begin to wear on them again. After dinner, we all pitched in to clean up and then everyone wandered off to do his or her own thing. Some would read, some would snuggle, each enjoying the free time before we turned the power off in a short while. Regina and I retired to The Traveler's cab. We spent a while doing the administrative tasks that keep a crew like ours alive. Regina updated the maintenance logs for The Traveler and went over any items noted by the shop crew at Blacksburg. She also updated the travel logs so that we always knew how much fuel we had and how far we could go. I reviewed the inventory logs. Tito had entered notes from the last stop at Blacksburg as he had restocked our main supplies of food and unloaded the majority of our surplus ammo. Also noted were any needs that Blacksburg or any of the other outposts they communicated with had expressed.
Once we finished our paperwork, it was almost time to shut down the power anyway. Regina and I retired to bed, since neither of us had the first watch. Our sleeping area was in the cab's oversized sleeper. Since the night watch would need to pass through the sleeper and into the cab, we had mounted our bed up high. With the curtain drawn closed, we had some privacy. But aboard a vehicle as crowded as The Traveler, privacy was something given to you by everyone else rather than something you could really find for yourself. Tired from the firefight, we snuggled a little and then drifted off to sleep curled up around each other. About 3 hours before sunrise, I was awakened by Thomas to take my watch.
We had found Thomas here at the Greenville-Spartanburg Airport the last time we came though this way. He had fortified one of the small outbuildings and created himself a shelter. I had known Thomas before the end; we had both shot United States Practical Shooting Association matches. He was a manager for a local grocery store chain with a normal family life. When the end came, he had been at work and ended up locked in the store's stockroom to escape the dead. Once he got out, he found his home deserted and had fled to the airport for safety.
Dawn came cloudy and wet, the rain having started during the early hours of the morning. With our water tanks filled before we left Blacksburg, it took very little rain for them to be full once again. The crew was slow to get up and I did not push them, we were not in any hurry. Once everyone was awake and had grabbed a quick breakfast, we retrieved the claymores and flame pots we had set out and made preparations to leave.
Once outside the airport, we hit the old SC Number 9 headed southeast. There was a small outpost in Lancaster County and Roy had told us they were in desperate need of supplies. He had made arrangements for us to "stake" the outpost with goods and he would pay for them if the Lancaster Outpost was unable to pay us back over the next couple of months. I most likely would have done that anyway once I got a chance to meet the principals. Having been born and raised in Lancaster, I was curious to see who had survived and formed the outpost. While I had always assumed that my parents, who had lived in Lancaster, had not survived the end you never really lose all hope.
As we headed southeast along SC Highway 9, we passed through the small towns of Oak Creek, Jonesville, Kelly, Adamsburg, and Robat. While travel was slow due to wrecked and abandoned cars on the roads, we encountered few of the dead. Occasionally we would see signs of life, but the survivors were not ready to meet us and so we continued on. Nights were spent in whatever large open spaces we could find.
On the fourth day of travel we reached the small town of Lockhart. Just outside of Lockhart, we came across a sight we had not seen in a while. A group of survivors were fighting off a number of the dead. It looked like they had raided a small store for supplies and the dead had surprised them. Unfortunately the dead were between them and an overloaded old pickup truck that was obviously theirs.
I ordered Regina to bring us to a stop with the rig stretching between the trapped survivors and their vehicle. That would bring our side mounted guns to bear on the dead as well as allowing us to use the rig itself as a safe passage for the trapped survivors. Most of the survivors stopped firing when we pulled up, I guess they were too startled. Its not often you see a hundred feet of armored truck with four machine gun barrels extending from ports in its side pull up next to you. When our guns opened up, almost all of the survivors dived for the ground. Once our guns had destroyed the dead, I opened the side door and went out to meet the survivors. I did not think there would be any problems since I had just saved their lives and they were still under the guns of The Traveler.
"Hello!" I yelled out to the survivors. One thing about the dead, they did not talk.
"Who are you and what do you want?" The voice came from the group that had been cut-off from their vehicle. I had seen movement in the vehicle itself, so I knew someone was there as well.
"We are the Travelers. Traders who move between outposts." Hopefully this group had a CB radio and listened to the local chatter. We were always on talking with the outposts about their needs and the outposts talked to each other. If they did, then maybe they had heard of us and this would go a lot easier.
A middle-aged man stood up from behind the car. "Heard of you." He looked me over and then looked at The Traveler sitting behind me. "How do we know you're not bandits of some kind?"
"If I was a bandit," I asked with a smile. "Would you still be alive?"
"Guess not." With that, things smoothed out. The man introduced himself as Kyle and then introduced the rest of the small group. They were all family; wife, kids, in-laws, etc. At my call, Kim came out with the first aid kit. Her training as a nurse came in handy at times like this. Maurice and Carol brought out water and some simple food.
The family fell on the food like they had not eaten in days. As they ate, they told us they were part of a convoy fleeing the fall of the outpost in Chester. Maurice and I looked at each other; we had not heard any rumors about an outpost in Chester, much less the fall of one. When we pressed for more details, Kyle refused to elaborate. Instead he said we should talk to Ralph, leader of the group of survivors Kyle and his family were part of. Once we got them patched up, they all climbed aboard the pickup truck and we followed them out.
Following the truck, we pulled into the parking lot of an empty big box store, probably a K-Mart at one time by the look. Parked in the middle of the parking lot was a group of about 11 vehicles, mostly trucks and vans. They had been parked nose to tail forming a circle for mutual protection. I could almost see the covered wagons that would have been parked in the same way, a hundred and fifty years ago.
The vehicle we were following headed directly to the circle, but I had Regina stop a ways off. Survivors were often on edge with the constant need to battle the dead and roaming bandits and I did not want to spook them anymore than was needed. I would go out to meet them on foot. In preparation, I had changed clothes on the trip over. Under my black t-shirt was a Second Chance Level III vest and I was wearing my paired 45 caliber Kimber 1911s in the double Jackass Leather shoulder rig. I had specifically left the heavier artillery behind. I knew Mikey would be on the Mk-19 in the turret atop the first trailer and Phil would be on the roof of the second trailer with his 50 BMG sniper rifle. If things went badly, I would have all the firepower support I needed.
Kyle, the old man who was in charge of the group we had rescued, introduced me to the convoy's leader, a grizzled old man named Ralph. While Ralph was appreciative of our saving Kyle's family, it was obvious that he was not ready to trust us off hand.
One thing I noticed about the group was how overloaded their vehicles were. Not with trade goods or gaudy things, but with household and personal goods. I could see rocking chairs, sofas, tables, and chairs as well as clothing. These were the trappings of refugees, not bandits, a scene right out of The Grapes Of Wrath.
Watching the group, I paid special attention to the way the men treated the women and children. Experiences since the end had taught me that bandits and those who were going to be trouble typically treated their women and children poorly. If the women were all dressed for sex, or were batted about, or walked in constant fear of the men, that was usually a bad sign. Here the women were upright and proud, well dressed in sensible clothes. The children were clean, well as clean as children get, and seemed well behaved. The men and women seem to share the chores and I saw a woman directing a group of men moving some heavy items about.
While I was fairly sure that the group was exactly what they appeared to be, I kept my guard up and my eyes open. I could hear Regina's commentary in my ear through the radio. She was watching through binoculars and not only kept me apprised of any threats, but made comments about me looking at the local ladies as well.
After about 30 minutes of small talk, Ralph finally decided I was trustworthy and decided to tell me their story. They led me to the fire they had built in the center of the defensive ring and offered me a cup of coffee. After taking a sip and managing not to go into convulsions, I got the attention of Ralph's wife who had been tending the fire. Slipping a small package of freeze-dried Folger's from my pocket, I offered it to her. Coffee was always a fine icebreaker. The lady nearly wept at the gift. Fixing her husband a fresh cup of coffee and handing it to him, both she and I laughed at the look of bliss on his face when he tasted it.
"Well," the old man started. "Just after the end, a bunch of us who survived gathered in the old Chester School. They don't build buildings like that anymore and we figured it would hold against the dead better than most of the other buildings." He took a sip of the coffee to wet his lips. I thought about growing up in the area. When I was young Chester School had become Chester Elementary and the older students moved to other newer schools. But I remembered visiting the old brick building. Thinking back I could see where it would make a good place to fort up.
"Everything was okay for a while. We fortified the school and held off a few mobs of the dead who tried to get at us. More and more survivors straggled in. Sometimes it would be one or two people, sometimes a family. After a couple of ugly incidents, we learned to separate the new folks for a day or so and make sure they were not infected." The hard look around the old man's eyes showed that the incidents had been very ugly. This was common practice nowadays to quarantine any survivors newly arriving into any outpost.
"After about a year, things settled down," the man continued. "We made a garden in the interior courtyard and found ways to make the plumbing work. Every so often we would make daytime raids on the local grocery stores for supplies. We had built a nice home out of the old school house. Then one day a survivor came straggling in." The anger in the man's face was strong.
"He told a story about struggling and hiding to survive. Basically the same story everyone else has, only he had been out there longer than most. Most people welcomed him in without a second thought, but a couple of the men had some doubts. He seemed awfully well fed and in good health for someone who had been struggling to survive on their own." A harsh coughing fit shook the old man. His wife offered him water in place of the empty coffee cup. He took it and drank before continuing.
"After a couple of days, he offered to start standing watches. By now most of the doubters had quit worrying about him. Since no one likes the night watch, he ended up on the midnight shift. Exactly where he wanted to be!" The old man spit in disgust. "The third night, he opened the gates to his bandit friends and they swarmed into the school. Before we could mount a defense, they were inside the school. They began to slaughter the men and children, keeping the woman alive. But they made a fatal mistake." The old man stopped for a second. I wondered whom he had lost in the attack, as his pain and hatred could almost be tasted.
"The commotion drew the dead. Maybe it was all the noise. Maybe it was the smell of fresh blood. But the bandits had swarmed inside and not closed the gates behind them. Suddenly they were attacked from behind by the dead and it gave us a chance to get away. When we ran, we could hear the fighting going on in the main courtyard between the bandits and the dead. As the bandits escaped back to their vehicles, the dead followed to some degree. That got most of the dead back out of the school."
"The next day, we sent scouts back into the school. They looked for any of our people who had barricaded themselves in rooms to escape the bandits and the dead. The survivors of the attack were brought back to the old firehouse we had hidden in the night before. Afterwards we sent in a larger group to salvage any equipment and supplies that were left. Since the bandits did not have time to loot, most of our stuff was okay." Again the old man started coughing and after another drink of water continued.
"We buried our dead, and voted as a group to find somewhere new to live. And here we are." The old man shrugged his shoulders and indicated the ragtag convoy of survivors.
"Well, at least you are headed in the right direction." I smiled at the old man. "About three or four days ahead you will come on the Blacksburg Outpost. We will radio ahead and let them know you are coming. Travel should not be too bad since we have cleared at least part of the roads between here and there."
"My advice to you would be to lighten your loads," I went on after a pause. "I know it sounds harsh, but you can move faster without all the furniture and heavy items you are carrying."
The old man smiled. I had seen that smile before. It was that same smile that every old person gave a younger one when they agreed with them, but were about to explain why the facts of life made them wrong. "Most of the women have been through hell and that furniture is all that they have left of their lives before." He shook his head. "I would definitely like to get rid of some of it, but I don't think I would survive the suggestion."
I laughed with the old man. Sitting down with a map, we planned a route to get his convoy to Blacksburg as safely as possible. Since we had cleared roads as we passed through, I marked the route for the convoy using places we had cleared.
That night, we had a huge feast. The women of the convoy took some of the venison we had from Blacksburg and worked some magic with it. The side dishes all came from cans in our stock, but you would have never known. Even during the feast, I noticed that they kept watches posted and that both the men and woman shared the watches. These folks would survive. As the night wore on, my crew returned to The Traveler. Regardless of the watches posted by the survivors, we still kept our own.
The morning dawned clear and bright. By mid-morning, the survivors had finished packing and were ready to move. As we watched the convoy head north towards Blacksburg, I hoped they made it safely. We were going to continue on towards Lancaster. If we met up with any of the bandits that had slaughtered the old man's family as we passed through Chester, I think we could manage a little payback.
As we pulled back onto SC 9, we headed east continuing our trek on to the Lancaster Outpost. By noon, we were passing through the small town of Wilksburg. Like most of the small towns we had passed through, there was very little moving in Wilksburg, dead or alive. By evening we had traveled all the way to the outskirts of Chester.
Rather than try Chester at night, we pulled into the parking lot of an old strip mall. Here we had a large open area around us, so our defense could be setup with some depth. After setting out our claymores and all, we settled in for the night. As the sun rose the next morning, we were all happy to have had an uneventful night.
SC 9 does not pass through Chester, but instead skirts around the outside. After a quick discussion, we decided to stay on SC 9 and skip downtown Chester. That meant we lost any real chance of running into the bandits and the dead that had overrun Chester School, but we could live without the risks.
After we passed around Chester, we continued on eastward until we reached the SC 9 and Interstate 77 exchange. We spent the night parked on the bridge and proceeded onward in the morning. The small towns of Richburg and Bassomville were desolate ghost towns and we did not even bother to stop. As the sun started to set, we stopped atop the US 21 overpass for the night.
As we pulled into Lancaster, South Carolina the next morning we came upon a pair of wrecked 18-wheelers. The faded logos on the side identified them as trucking for Wal-Mart and Lowe's foods. Since both could be treasure troves of supplies, we pulled to a stop just short of them.
"How we gonna work this?" The question from Tony was a good one. The two trucks were pretty much by themselves, but we still needed to be watchful for the dead. While The Traveler let us bull through crowds, it was easy to get overrun outside the rig.
"Regina is going to keep the rig on this side of the wreck with Carol and Kim manning the M60s." I sketched a quick diagram as I talked. "Mikey and Phil will go past the wreck and mount a guard on the far side. Mikey, take the M249 in case you need the firepower." Mikey nodded. The M249 was a light machinegun that fired the same 5.56mm round as our M4 and M16s. While it was belt-fed, it could also use the same 30-round magazines as the M16 family.
"Once we have guards established, Maurice, Thomas, Tony, Tito, and I will make a sweep through the wreckage and then inspect the contents of the trucks. If need be, we will start breaking down pallets and moving goods from the wrecks to The Traveler. Any questions?"
When no one had any questions, we all began to gear up. Mikey and Phil put on heavy body armor, once it had been called riot gear. The rest of us geared up in lighter body armor. All of us, however, made sure that we were covered as completely as possible. If we stumbled on the dead in this wreckage it would be up close and personal and the heavy sleeves and high armored collars could save our lives.
Once everyone was ready, we opened the side door and began to move out. Mikey and Phil went first. They moved around the wreck and took up positions on the far side, providing us with security from external threats. The rest of us moved into the wreckage. As Mikey yanked open the door to one of the trucks, I swept across the inside. Seeing nothing, I held my fire and Mikey shut the door. Tony and Tito did the other cab and the single pop I heard from over there let me know they found one of the dead, but nothing they could not handle.
Moving back along the side of the truck, I kept watch as Mikey cut the lock on the trailer and swung the doors open. Tightly stacked inside the trailer were white boxes with a familiar black pattern. Climbing up into the back of the trailer, I found that the Wal-Mart truck was full of Gateway Computers. Not a very useful item these days.
Jumping down from the back of the trailer, I told Mikey to follow me and we moved over to the Lowes Food's truck. Tony and Tito met us there. Mikey cut the lock on this one just like he had the first one and we swung the doors open. The smell of rotten food hit us like a hammer and as we staggered backward, we knew there was nothing here to salvage.
"Everyone pull back to The Traveler, there is nothing here for us," I commanded over the radio. As we moved back towards the rig, Mikey called out that he had spotted some of the dead moving our way. But they were well away yet and we made it into The Traveler without incident.
Turning onto US 521 from SC 9, we pulled through downtown Lancaster. Much of the city was in ruins as the Army and National Guard had made a stand on the north side of the city, probably against infected and dead people coming south from Charlotte. The courthouse was a charred ruin and we pushed through the seven blocks of Main Street. On the south side of Lancaster things were more as we expected; deserted and desolate, but not showing any major damage. As we continued traveling south, we began to get weak static filled radio traffic on the CB from the Lancaster outpost.
Mom and Dad's house was well out the south side of Lancaster down US 521. Once we cleared downtown, the wreckage on the roads was sparse enough for us to travel easily. The outpost was located further south towards Great Falls. I knew I could not pass that close to the house without checking to see if I could discover what had happened to my mother and father.
As Regina brought the rig to a stop, I surveyed the carnage outside what had been my parent's house. The windows were shattered, dead bodies lay in the front yard, and both vehicles were still in the driveway. Making a quick sweep through the house, I could not find any evidence that they had packed up to leave, but I did not find their bodies either. My heart sunk as I realized they had most likely been infected