Liberators: A Novel of the Coming Global Collapse

15 BYPASS

The Jeep rolled slowly along winding roads. Malorie had already committed the next portion of the map to memory, so she knew to turn right at the intersection, as it was the most westerly option in the unfamiliar terrain.

Mrs. Townsend, or Beatrice as she preferred to be called, gave them exact directions on how to navigate to Nitro, West Virginia, where they would be looking for the Third Street Bridge. No one else in the Jeep could yet appreciate just how far out of the way they had had to go to circumnavigate Charleston, but it increasingly became clear just how providential it was that they’d met her. Beatrice explained that she was the wife of Pastor Dale Townsend of St. Paul Baptist church in St. Albans, and that he had been golf partners with Pastor Townsend since the two of them graduated seminary together more than forty years ago. “I never would have thought that law and order could diminish so quickly!” Megan let out a long, low whistle and nodded. “In all of my years in colaboring with Dale, we have been on dozens of mission trips and we have seen what happens when man decides not to live according to God’s law and what a reckless experiment that is—but here in West Virginia? I’m sorry; I shouldn’t talk this way in front of your boys.”

Megan grasped her hand and said, “We appreciate you helping us, and your candor as well.”

As Malorie threaded through the back roads, Beatrice engaged the children as only someone who has taught decades’ worth of Sunday school could do. She was attentive as they explained the pages that they had colored and was even more pleased at the boys’ recall of Scripture.

As they neared Nitro, there were noticeably more people and an equally high proportion of tension as well. Beatrice directed them toward the Third Street Bridge. They could see the cloudy sky at dusk reflecting orange back from the city that was engulfed with flames to the east. Traffic was thick, and they were not moving very fast, but at least they were moving. Malorie always made sure that she drove with at least one car length in front of her and a clear “out” in case she needed to do some evasive driving. Nearing the bridge they had an encounter with a local sheriff’s deputy, who flagged them down to ask why they had a WET FLOOR sign on their front brush guard. Joshua, who spoke “cop,” did all of the talking; he sheepishly grinned and said that he would remove it as soon as they crossed the bridge. Joshua took the opportunity to ask the deputy of any news on the other side of the river. “It’s hard to say with all of the reports coming in. The interstate is shut down, and the through-town traffic is very dicey. We’re getting reports of looting and even some break-ins.”

Joshua knew that everyone else was getting impatient, so he kept the conversation brief and direct. “I think that we can avoid any retail areas just fine and steer clear of the looting, but are there any patterns to the break-ins? And what is the best route for us to get to Kentucky?”

Malorie kept her cool, nonchalantly smiling and nodding to defuse tension. The sheriff’s deputy was getting noticeably concerned with the traffic lined up behind the Jeep, and he quickly responded, “None of the detectives have given any official statements, but the talk across the radio seems to be that people are fond of their social media street cred.” Joshua looked puzzled as the sheriff’s deputy continued, “I have yet to figure out why, but people who post all these pictures and links about guns seem to have pretty poor OPSEC, and some smart criminals must have been taking note before the power went out because they’re making surgical strikes on those people now. Why people advertise about themselves like that is beyond me, but some folks sure are taking advantage of all of the geo-tagged photos now! We just don’t have the manpower to stop it. Did you say that you’re heading over the bridge?”

“Yes, we need to get Mrs. Townsend to the St. Paul Baptist Church parsonage just over the bridge. From there, we’re looking to make it to Kentucky.”

The deputy may have been young, but he had his senses honed to already know how many people were in the vehicle and a general description of each, so he looked directly at Beatrice Townsend and said, “Ma’am, there have been reports of gunfire from the apartment building behind your church—please be careful.” He then shifted his gaze to Malorie and Joshua and said, “I would avoid any big roads. All routes into Charleston are closed due to the escalated criminal gang violence, making major highways going west pretty congested. I see that you have paper maps, good on ya, since the cellular service has been down most of the day. Keep moving. People are getting relieved of their lives and property if they hang out on the side of the road too long.” The sheriff’s deputy then stood up and tapped the hood of the Jeep and waved them on through the checkpoint, across the Kanawha River and over the bridge.

Malorie slowly let out the clutch. “Do they teach everyone the hood-tap maneuver around here, Mrs. Townsend?”

“It would appear so! The church is not too far up here on your right after you cross the bridge. Will you be on your way, or can you all come inside the parsonage and stay a while?”

Megan spoke up. “We would love to stay, but I’m afraid we will only have time for a bathroom break and then we must be moving on.”

They reached the parsonage, and Joshua stayed with the Jeep while Malorie and Megan followed Mrs. Townsend inside with the boys. At this point, it was becoming less strange for Malorie to carry her sidearm and slung weapon with her wherever she went, but carrying it into someone’s house would likely always be strange.

Megan cycled the boys through the bathroom, and Malorie had a moment to speak with Pastor Townsend about the deteriorating situation in the apartment building next door. Beatrice emerged from her well-stocked pantry with some late-season cabbage and kale. She then asked if she could give the boys some cookies from the batch that she baked before she left to see her grandkids, to which Malorie smiled and answered, “We know better than to tell a grandparent what she can and cannot do with cookies.”

Megan thanked the Townsends and left her sister to be the cool auntie and broker the cookie deal. She then went outside to relieve Joshua. Megan hugged Joshua while reflecting on the day’s events. “It’s already dark, and we only made it as far as Charleston—but given the current situation across the river we are very blessed to even have gotten this far.”

Joshua replied, “Indeed, God has extended His grace to us in getting us here.” Joshua looked her in those stunning blue eyes and said, “Watch your six out here, we’ll be rolling very soon.”

Joshua turned around to walk to the house with the empty water bottles in hand and Megan grabbed his sling across his back, spun him around, and kissed him, saying, “Hurry up in there. By the way, there’s more where that came from.”