The wind rolled steadily across the plains.
Tall grass bent in long waves beneath the morning sun while scattered cottonwoods clung to the shallow bends of a dry riverbed. The land stretched so far in every direction that a man could watch a rider approach for miles before he arrived.
Billy Jack stood on a low ridge overlooking the valley.
Behind him, three men were stacking dry brush and cedar branches into a tight cone.
Daniel Red Elk wiped his hands on his jeans and stepped back to study the pile.
"That should burn clean," he said.
Billy Jack nodded once.
"It will."
Raymond Torres crouched beside a small metal box and struck a match. The flame flickered briefly before catching the dry grass stuffed beneath the wood.
Within seconds the fire began to grow.
Thin gray smoke rose into the sky.
Daniel watched it carefully.
"You remember the pattern?" Raymond asked.
Billy Jack snorted.
"Boy, my grandmother would haunt me if I forgot."
Daniel chuckled.
"Same."
Raymond added another handful of dry grass to the fire.
"Most people think smoke signals were just one message."
Billy Jack shook his head.
"Hollywood nonsense."
He pointed toward the rising smoke.
"That right there says attention."
Daniel nodded.
"Next signal says danger moving."
Raymond added calmly,
"And the third tells them water routes are unsafe."
Billy Jack glanced across the valley.
"That one's going to confuse some folks."
Daniel smirked.
"Better confused than dead."
The smoke thickened as the fire caught stronger fuel.
Billy Jack watched the column rise into the sky until the wind carried it clean and tall.
Then he nodded.
"Good."
Daniel shaded his eyes and looked toward the distant hills.
"They'll see that thirty miles out."
Raymond followed his gaze.
"Maybe forty."
Billy Jack chuckled.
"And people say radios are faster."
Daniel laughed.
"Radios need batteries."
Raymond added,
"And towers."
Billy Jack pointed toward the open plains.
"This only needs fire and somebody paying attention."
They stood quietly for a moment.
The wind carried the smoke northward.
Far on the horizon another faint column of smoke appeared.
Daniel noticed it first.
"There."
Billy Jack nodded.
"They saw us."
Raymond leaned back against the ridge.
"Chain reaction starts now."
⸻
The Riders
Below the ridge a group of horses waited near a cluster of pickup trucks and small wagons.
Six riders were tightening saddles.
Most of them carried rifles across their backs.
Two had long bows strapped to their saddles.
Billy Jack walked down the slope toward them.
One of the younger riders looked up.
"You want us heading west first?"
Billy Jack nodded.
"Yeah."
He pointed across the plains.
"Hit the ranch towns along the river."
The rider frowned slightly.
"You sure about warning them about the water?"
Daniel stepped beside Billy Jack.
"Very sure."
Raymond folded his arms.
"Tell them straight."
"Rivers, lakes, reservoirs — stay away."
Another rider adjusted his saddle strap.
"What if they ask why?"
Billy Jack shrugged.
"Tell them the truth."
Daniel added calmly,
"Creatures moving through water."
The riders exchanged looks.
One of them muttered,
"Hell."
Raymond nodded.
"Yeah."
"But better they hear it early."
Billy Jack looked at the group carefully.
"This isn't panic riding."
He gestured across the plains.
"You go town to town."
"Explain it."
"Make sure they understand the fallback routes."
A tall rider with gray braids nodded.
"Same chain system?"
"Exactly," Billy Jack said.
"If they can't hold their town…"
Daniel finished the sentence.
"They move to the next one."
Raymond pointed north.
"And eventually everything flows toward Sanctuary."
The riders nodded.
One of the younger men asked,
"You think it'll get that bad?"
Billy Jack didn't answer immediately.
He watched the distant smoke signals rising one after another across the horizon.
Then he said quietly,
"I hope not."
Daniel looked toward the sky.
"But hope isn't a plan."
Raymond chuckled softly.
"Never has been."
Billy Jack clapped his hands once.
"Alright."
"Saddle up."
⸻
Old Ways, Fast Roads
The riders mounted quickly.
Leather creaked.
Rifles settled against saddles.
Horses stamped impatiently against the dry earth.
Daniel leaned toward Raymond as the group finished preparing.
"You ever think about how strange this is?"
Raymond raised an eyebrow.
"What part?"
Daniel gestured toward the smoke signals rising across the plains.
"Whole world built satellites."
"Fiber optic cables."
"Cell towers."
Raymond nodded.
"Yeah."
Daniel smiled faintly.
"And now we're back to fire and horses."
Raymond shrugged.
"Turns out fire and horses never stopped working."
Billy Jack overheard them and laughed.
"My great-grandfather used to say the same thing."
"What?"
Raymond asked.
Billy Jack grinned.
"He said if the world ever breaks…"
"…the old ways will still be waiting."
Daniel glanced at the smoke drifting across the sky.
"Looks like he was right."
⸻
The Riders Depart
Billy Jack stepped aside and raised his hand.
"Go."
The riders kicked their horses forward.
Hooves thundered across the ridge as the group spread out into three directions.
Two riders headed west.
Two north.
Two east toward the scattered ranch communities.
Dust rose behind them as they disappeared into the tall grass.
Raymond watched them ride for a moment.
"Fast."
Daniel nodded.
"Horses can cover fifty miles before nightfall."
Billy Jack looked toward the horizon.
"And smoke travels even faster."
More signals were appearing now.
Thin gray columns rising across the plains.
Reservation to reservation.
Ridge to ridge.
Message to message.
Daniel folded his arms.
"You realize some of those towns will hear the warning before the radio network even reaches them."
Raymond chuckled.
"Old technology."
Billy Jack shook his head.
"No."
He watched the riders disappear into the distance.
"Just reliable technology."
The wind carried the smoke across the plains.
And somewhere far beyond the horizon—
more riders were already moving.
The warning had begun to spread.
Military Node Response
Hundreds of miles to the east, another network was already moving.
Inside the reinforced operations building at General Roberts' command base, the air smelled faintly of machine oil and old concrete. The large map table in the center of the room glowed with dozens of small markers representing supply routes, convoy positions, and refugee corridors.
Roberts stood over the display with his hands braced on the metal edge.
Vali leaned nearby, studying the river systems marked across the map.
Vidar stood near the window overlooking the river valley outside the base.
No one spoke for a moment.
The quiet tension in the room felt like a storm building behind the mountains.
Finally Roberts exhaled slowly.
"All rivers are roads now."
Vali nodded once.
"Which means the enemy has highways."
Roberts tapped the Ohio River system on the map.
"Exactly."
One of the lieutenants shifted uneasily.
"Sir… if they can move through waterways like that…"
"They can reach half the continent."
Roberts didn't look surprised.
"That's the problem."
He tapped another marker.
"Redirect convoy routes."
The lieutenant looked up.
"Away from rivers?"
"Yes."
Vali added calmly,
"Bridge crossings too."
Another officer spoke from the communications console.
"What about the refugee camps near the Mississippi tributaries?"
Roberts didn't hesitate.
"Warn them."
"Tell them to move uphill."
Vidar finally spoke from the window.
"They are already moving."
Everyone turned toward him.
Roberts raised an eyebrow.
"You sensing something?"
Vidar nodded slightly.
"Movement."
He looked toward the distant river line.
"Something unnatural."
Vali crossed his arms.
"You mean the mutants."
Vidar shook his head slowly.
"No."
"Pressure."
He turned toward the map.
"Like a pack spreading outward."
Roberts studied the map again.
Strategic Foresight stirred quietly in the back of his mind.
Convoys.
River routes.
Refugee movement.
Every line of travel suddenly looked different.
"Colonel Barrett," he said.
A tall officer near the radio board looked up.
"Yes, sir."
"Send priority warning to every node in the network."
"What message?"
Roberts answered without hesitation.
"Water is no longer safe."
Barrett began relaying the orders.
Across the map, several convoy markers shifted direction as the new routes were uploaded.
Vali watched the changes carefully.
"Supply lines will slow down."
Roberts nodded.
"But they'll survive."
He pointed toward several towns along the river valleys.
"Warn those communities first."
"Then the refugee camps."
Barrett's radio operators began transmitting the warnings across multiple channels.
Military frequencies.
Civilian emergency bands.
Long-range relay towers still functioning after the Shroud.
Within minutes the network was alive with activity.
Convoys turning.
Checkpoints redirecting traffic.
Local commanders ordering river patrols.
Vali studied the map quietly.
"You know something interesting about this."
Roberts glanced at him.
"What?"
Vali pointed toward the western plains.
"Your warnings will reach some towns slower than the tribal riders."
Roberts smiled faintly.
"I know."
He watched the shifting convoy markers carefully.
"Sometimes horses beat radios."
Vidar looked back toward the river outside the base.
"The old ways return."
Roberts nodded.
"Good."
He tapped another command.
"Because we're going to need every system that still works."
Outside the base, trucks began starting one by one.
Convoy engines roared to life as drivers received their new routes.
Roadblocks were moved.
River checkpoints reinforced.
Supply columns redirected toward higher ground.
The military network had begun to adapt.
But far away across the plains—
smoke signals still drifted across the sky.
And riders continued carrying warnings faster than any radio tower could.
The message was spreading.
Water was no longer safe.
⸻
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