“Haven’t had a chance, but I’ll make time,” Wendy said, stepping out from the awning. Hating to do it, Wendy asked. “You need a ride?”
“Nah, I live round here and if my kids lived through this Rudolph flu this is where they would come, so I’ll wait on ‘em,” the man told her and let his rifle hang from the sling. Pulling out a chewing tobacco pouch, the man put a wad in his cheek. “Lady, I’m grateful for you askin’, but you be wary of everybody. I seen stuff these last few weeks and people are just being downright mean. Even if they don’t have to be mean, they are.”
Nodding, “Yes, we’ve seen our share of that,” Wendy said, relaxing and the more the man talked, the more she really wanted him to come.
“You need to git cause that fella that got away took off with purpose. I’m bettin’ he’s goin’ for more,” the man told her.
“Thank you again, I don’t know how I would’ve gotten out of that without your help,” Wendy said, walking over and held out her right hand. “My name’s Wendy, Wendy Steele.”
Taking her hand, the man shook it firmly. “Nice to meet ya, Wendy. Name’s Logan Lancaster. Friends call me LL. If you are crossin’ the Mississippi, be careful. There’s a military checkpoint on the Louisiana side on the eastbound bridge. Two days ago, I only saw three soldiers still alive and they was coughing, but I’ve seen a few beat off that Rudolph flu even after coughin’ up the blood.”
“I’m one of them,” Wendy said, glancing back and hearing the Tahoe crank up. “LL, if your kids don’t show up and you are looking for a place, head to Clarksville, Arkansas and call out on CB channel six.”
“I thank ya, ma’am, but that’s why I’m watching that bridge in Natchez. Two of my kids would have to use it. I’d go with ya and keep ya covered, but I’m sure that yeller belly that got away will try makin’ a call on ya. I’m going to stay around and see he don’t,” Logan told her with a wink, then spit a stream out.
“Thank you from my kids as well,” Wendy said, holding out her hand again and Logan shook it.
“That’s why I was so determined to give ya a hand,” Logan said, tilting his head to the Tahoe. “They’s good kids. Now, don’t go anywhere near Shreveport cause the military is still there. Now some troops are helping, but others are still following those orders of keeping everyone in place and just shoot folks. My advice, avoid all of ‘em. If those troops are still on the bridge, you need to just shoot ’em. I never got a chance on those on the Louisiana side. The checkpoint on this side on the westbound bridge is cleared out, unless some of those on the other side came over.”
“I’ll do that,” Wendy said and heard the window roll down on the Tahoe.
“Come on, you know people can hear gunshots!” Sally cried out and rolled the window up.
“Smart kids,” Logan said, raising his eyebrows. “You need to go cause I’m bettin’ it won’t be long ‘fore more of that group will be showin’ up.”
“If your kids show up and you still want a place to head to, come see us,” Wendy said and then turned and jogged back to the Tahoe. Taking her M4 off, Wendy saw the driver’s door open up as she got close and Sally was climbing back over to the passenger seat.
Tossing her rifle on the dash, Wendy shut her door and backed out. By the time she was heading for the road, Logan was gone. “I wanted to tell him to be careful,” Wendy mumbled, turning onto the highway.
“That man just walked into the trees and was gone,” Jo Ann said behind her.
Gripping the steering wheel, Wendy watched the road ahead as Sally leaned over the console with wadded up napkins. “You have blood on your face,” Sally said and wiped Wendy’s left cheek and Wendy grimaced. “I see a splinter,” Sally said, leaning over and almost blocking Wendy’s view of the road.
Feeling a pinch on her cheek, Wendy gritted her teeth as Sally yanked her hand back. “It looks like a toothpick,” Sally said, holding up the splinter that was several inches long and covered in blood.
With the splinter out, Wendy felt blood running down her cheek.
Sally tossed the splinter on the dashboard and held the wet napkins on the wound. In wonder, Wendy drove as Sally dabbed her cheek, tending to her wound. “Here’s the first aid box,” Jo Ann said, passing up a yellow plastic box.
Moving back to her seat, Sally grabbed some supplies and moved back over the center console. Feeling Sally spread ointment on her cheek, Wendy couldn’t help but smile. “These are bad Band-Aids,” Sally said, pulling out a two-inch Band-Aid. “They hurt coming off.”
“It’s okay,” Wendy smiled at the warning as Sally put the Band-Aid on her cheek.
When she was done, Sally looked at the side of Wendy’s neck and saw several abrasions and went to work on cleaning them. “None of these need Band-Aids,” Sally told her.
“Okay, the rest will have to wait,” Wendy told her. “Logan said there was a checkpoint on the bridge.”
Climbing back into her seat, Sally put the kit up and grabbed the binoculars. “I’m tired of bad guys,” Sally sighed.
“Hey, we had a good guy help us out,” Wendy reminded her. “I was really getting worried there.”
Looking ahead with the binoculars, “He looked like a nice Santa,” Sally commented.
“There are mean Santas?” Wendy asked with a grin.
“Well, yeah,” Sally huffed. “They don’t let you tell them what to bring
