|
Post by bretf on Jul 3, 2022 6:14:52 GMT -6
Chapter 33
Chad gripped his rifle and scurried away from the haystack. His heart pounded, and it wasn’t only from moving the hay bales. Their route was in darkness, and it would’ve been nice to see ahead of them, but they couldn’t chance a light. Their presence would be instantly detected and pinpointed, and a headlight beam would illuminate them like a searchlight. He was glad he knew where they were going and had been over it numerous times in the daylight. And yet, he stumbled on something, a rock, a mound of dirt, or clump of grass, and fell flat.
“Stay put and hug the ground,” Aunt Heather hissed from a few feet ahead of him. She’d heard him fall, and flattened to the ground herself. When she dropped, she turned so she was facing the way they’d come, with her rifle pointed towards the house and the rumbling motorcycles. The lantern was beside her arm and she told herself not to forget it when they moved again. If it was left it out in the open, it might cue the bikers to search harder. That had to be avoided.
The three Harleys stopped, spaced out in the road facing the house, one positioned near the center, and the other two beyond each corner where their headlights could illuminate the sides. The riders directed their lights back and forth, lighting up as much of the house as they could cover and getting a good look at the outside. The light from one moved in a slow arc, approaching Chad’s position on the ground.
Heather swore silently as the light got closer and closer to him, and she pulled the rifle butt tight against her shoulder. Her right hand held the grip firmly and her left hand was positioned to activate the laser sight.
The rumble from the middle bike grew louder, and it pulled away from its position. It roared through the quarantine tape down the driveway and stopped where its light could be directed at the back of the house and the front of the shop. Heather moved her rifle barrel to cover the bike and its rider. She clicked the safety off and brought her index finger into contact with the trigger. That guy posed the most immediate threat if they were discovered. Things would get very interesting if he turned his light far enough. She swore as the arc of light approached.
“Stay flat, I might have to start shooting,” she said. She spoke softly despite the noise of the bike’s engines. “But only if I don’t have any other choice. It’ll be better if they think the place is abandoned.” The bike’s headlight beam passed within a few feet of Chad’s booted feet, and the two of them lay as flat and still as possible.
Chad stared at Aunt Heather to get clues from her though he couldn’t pick up much in the dark. But he did detect her shift the rifle barrel and heard the click of the safety. When she spoke, he tensed and tightened his grip on his rifle. Steeling himself for the blast that would rip through the night too near his head, it took supreme effort not to turn and look behind him. He hated being unable to see what was going on. And of all places to fall, it had to be where they sawed and split their firewood. A chunk of bark pressed into his rib cage and sawdust had gotten into his collar when he landed. He fought the urge to scratch and dig the crud out.
JUST GO AWAY, NOW! he mentally yelled in vain at the men. Sighing quietly, he tried to ignore his itching neck.
The rider in the driveway had seen enough and turned his bike and rejoined his companions. They had a quick discussion, not that Heather and Chad could hear anything over the engines, and one roared back down the road the way they’d come. The remaining bikes sat in place, no longer moving their lights around. Instead, each directed its beam through the living room windows.
“Now, let’s move! I don’t think we have much time!” Heather snapped. She led the way, staying low to the ground while her eyes darted from in front of her, to Chad, and to the bikers. She dropped to the ground again, and Chad mimicked her. They squirmed under the barbed wire fence, scrambled to the irrigation ditch, and dropped into it.
While going through scenarios they might face, they’d picked the ditch as a suitable location to hide and still see the house and root cellar if the need arose. The cut-outs in the ditch bank would be perfect to rest a rifle or shotgun in while keeping mostly hidden behind the bank.
Chad breathed a deep sigh of relief the moment they were in the ditch. Then he dug under his collar for the sawdust.
Heather pointed to the cut-out where she wanted him to be, put her lips near his ear and whispered, “I wish the hell you were in the root cellar, but I guess I’m stuck with you. So make yourself comfortable. Make sure your extra shells are where you can reach them without fumbling around. Load the empty cylinder in your pistol. We might need that extra shot more than we need to worry about the hammer resting on a live round.” While doing chores, Heather insisted they have an open cylinder under the hammers of the revolvers. She didn’t want an accidental discharge.
“And now we wait,” she continued. “We’ll have to be to be totally quiet, no matter what they do. There’re a bunch of them, so I don’t want a firefight if we can avoid it. I know it’ll be tough to watch, but they can do whatever they want, as long as they avoid the root cellar. If they find it, well, stay low and shoot as many of those sons of, well, you know, as many of them as you can.” She scurried to another cut out further along the ditch as the distant sound of engines grew louder. Chad noticed Aunt Heather positioned herself closer to the house and root cellar than he was.
It felt like he’d no more than caught his breath before he heard the ear-splitting rumble. A string of motorcycles roared up and spread out in the road and driveway, their headlights illuminating the house and shop. The riders revved their engines. Chad wasn’t sure if the earth moved, but it felt like it did. He’d seen a poster once for a biker gathering called “Rolling Thunder”. He remembered the poster and thought what an understatement it was. He’d never heard thunder as loud or as unnerving. The engines revved over and over.
Three pickup trucks joined the bikes and turned towards the house. Chad pulled his cap lower over his eyes, trying to block out the worst of the light. He saw shadowy shapes position themselves near the back of the house and the shop. The engines rumbled again, and he wished he had earplugs. As if in answer to his wish, the rumble dropped off to an acceptable level with the engines idling.
“Hello in the house,” a voice yelled out, causing Chad to flinch. “We’d like to talk. Is anybody there?”
The calls were met with silence. Chad reached his hand down to the row of rifle shells he’d arranged and felt one of them, running his forefinger and thumb up and down the cold brass casing and expanding bullet. He’d seen firsthand what the bullet would do to a deer and assumed it would do the same to a person. Peering at dark shapes he thought were men near the back of the house, he thought again about his personal vow; Anything to protect the girls. He didn’t taste bile as he had before. As he watched the men and listened to the rumble of the engines, it felt different, threatening, like all their lives were in mortal danger. Those men weren’t concerned with feeding their starving children. They radiated menace and intimidation. He tried to make himself smaller while reaching his right hand from the grip of the rifle to the row of shells, and back to the rifle, familiarizing himself with the location of the shells. Anything to protect my family.
“Hello, is anybody in there?” the voice called out again.
The engines revved and rumbled again. Chad jerked at the loud noise and was glad his hand was on the rifle and not the shells, or he’d surely have scattered them. He longed for earplugs to block out the deafening roar and the loud pops that accented the rumble; the rumble that was loud enough to break windows.
No, that wasn’t the noise breaking the windows out of the house. Barely discernible behind the bright lights, he saw a man point something towards the house, saw the muzzle flash, and heard one of the loud bangs. Most of the engines dropped back to an idle, but gunshots continued. It was as deafening as the engines had been.
Glass broke, wood splintered, and Aunt Heather grumbled softly, “Yeah that’s right. Waste your ammo on an empty house you horse’s as . . .”
Unseen from Heather and Chad’s vantage point, the house’s splintered front door was kicked in, and a group of men rushed inside. Flashlight beams appeared through the windows dancing around inside the house. The back door opened and a voice barked out into the night. Chad couldn’t make out what was said, but one of the darker shadows beside the back wall materialized into a man who went into the house through the open door. Chad bit down on his tongue, repositioned his hat to block the motorcycles’ light, and focused on the hidden root cellar entrance.
Lanterns in the house and shop flared to life, filling the windows with light. To Chad’s relief, the appearance of light in the house was accompanied by the motorcycle lights and engines shutting off. People could be seen, silhouetted as they moved around inside the house. At one point, cooking smells drifted Chad’s way. He wasn’t hungry, and with his stomach tied in knots, the odors were border-line nauseating. He didn’t let it distract him from his vigilance as he watched the root cellar. Anything for my family!
#
A filthy hand held the Smoke family portrait and bloodshot eyes scrutinized it. In a slow, raspy voice, the man holding the picture said, “Look at them. Aren’t they the happy family.”
“Yeah, that’s him, and I know they’ve got food stashed away somewhere. I heard other guys say they’d come here if the shit ever hit the fan,” another man said.
The raspy-voiced man opened his filthy hand and let the framed photo drop to the floor with a crash. He smiled, exposing yellow teeth, and ground a boot heel into the glass and picture making sure it was ruined. “We need to give them a chance to come back from wherever they’re holed up, and then …” The man explained what he wanted to be done.
Looking at what was left of the kitchen, he added, “So, let’s load up what food they have in here. I’m ready to get out of this dump. Put the food in that Jeep out there. I always wanted one of those. And get that new sleeping bag from out of the workshop too. The one I have is a piece of crap. I’m going to sleep good for the rest of this night. Ben, pick whoever you want to stay with you,” he rasped to his companion who’d wait for the family to show themselves.
“What about those two trucks and the minivan?” another man asked. He’d been listening and waiting for orders.
“If someone wants them they can have them. The Dodge looks good, but everything we’ve got is better than the other two. You could get the gas out of them if you want, though. Maybe you could find a pan or tray to drain it into.”
The man stepped away from the lantern glow carrying a cardboard box filled with food. “Hell if I’m gonna crawl on the cold ground and punch a hole in the gas tank. There’s still plenty at the station,” he muttered. Besides raiding houses, the bikers had commandeered a gas station, complete with a backup generator.
The man grinned at the Dodge pickup. “That’ll be a hell of a lot nicer than the back of a bike in this damn cold weather.” He got in Matt’s pickup and fired it up. Next to it, Heather’s Jeep roared to life.
|
|
|
Post by bretf on Jul 3, 2022 6:18:56 GMT -6
Chapter 34
Heather fumed when she saw the man get into Matt’s pickup and start it. She nearly jumped out of the ditch firing when the pickup’s lights revealed a second man get into her Jeep. But she held her position and hissed under her breath when the Wrangler’s engine fired up. She mentally berated herself for leaving the keys in plain view. She knew she should’ve considered the Wrangler and Matt’s pickup might attract attention, but she hadn’t, at least not when it mattered. It was one more mess up to add to her tally.
Maybe I should shoot it out with those fools after all, she grumbled to herself, but she knew it wouldn’t be wise, not at all. It should be simple enough for her to drop two or three of them, maybe more, but after that? Would they run or dig in? If they did the latter, she didn’t know what would happen but had little doubt it wouldn’t turn out good. Some of the best-prepared soldiers she’d known had returned in caskets. She hadn’t always made the smartest decisions after Lisa called, and getting shot in a futile effort against overwhelming odds would be the stupidest yet. Her finger relaxed on the trigger and she called the gomers and herself every derogatory name she could think of.
See Chad, whatever they do, we let them, as long as they leave the root cellar alone. But man, I like that Jeep! she thought. She amended the thought; The root cellar AND Dan’s pickup. Without the other two vehicles, they had to have his pickup to get away. Lisa’s minivan wouldn’t cut it on the roads she planned for them to take. She cussed silently again and watched the remaining pickup as close as she watched the hay covered root cellar.
So far the hay had done its job concealing the family’s hiding place. Heather had only seen two men approach it, and they’d stood beside the hay to take a leak. If it wasn’t so serious, it would’ve been comical to picture shooting them in that position. Her breathing was slow and controlled, and she was ready to stop the thugs in mid-stream if she needed to if they saw something they shouldn’t.
#
Further down the ditch, Chad yawned and silently asked if the night was ever going to end. His left leg had gone to sleep, but he was terrified to change his position, afraid the movement would be detected. He was also freezing. The cold had long since seeped through his coat, and he had bouts of shivering he couldn’t control. While the coat was good for doing chores in, it wasn’t thick enough for sitting motionless on the frozen ground for half an eternity.
When the men approached the root cellar, he watched Aunt Heather with his peripheral vision as well as he could, ready to follow her lead, although it was tough to see her or the men. If they needed to shoot, he figured she would start with the man closest to the cellar’s entrance. He squinted through his scope, unable to see the crosshairs or either man beyond. It was too dark for his optics. But he made sure the rifle was at least pointed in the general direction. With it so dark out, he regretted not keeping the shotgun, but what was done was done. Hopefully, neither he nor Brooke would have to use either gun.
Another attempt to pick out the men through the scope was as fruitless, so he looked lower, letting his line of sight track straight down the rifle barrel to one of the indistinct shapes. It was hard in the dark, but he aimed as close to the dark mass as he could. His family had to stay safe! He relaxed when the men finished their business and moved away from the hay. Taking a chance, he shifted his position and eased the pressure on his leg.
#
Time dragged, and another dark shape approached Dan’s pickup, causing Heather to swear under her breath. She couldn’t allow it to be taken too. They had to have it if they were going to escape to her place. The Wrangler and Matt’s truck were big losses, but they were acceptable losses as long as they kept Dan’s pickup. To lose it as well could leave them stuck. She aimed her rifle at the shape and held a finger ready at the sight. She berated the man while taking slow, steady breaths. Don’t make me shoot your sorry ass. I really don’t want to, but if you start that engine, I’ll end your miserable existence.
The man opened the pickup’s passenger door and climbed inside. He sat with his head bent forward for a couple of minutes, and Heather guessed he was searching through the jockey box. Don’t get behind the wheel dirtbag, and you might live to see morning, Heather thought, keeping the rifle pointed at him. That’s right, good gomer, she said in her mind, when he got out and slammed the door. The barrel of her rifle followed him back to the house.
#
The sound of the pickup door jarred Chad to alertness. After the long night, his mind felt as numbed as his body where it contacted the cold ground. His alertness was short lived as he didn’t see anything moving, and he relaxed again. The stress of the long night had exhausted him. It’d been quite a while since he’d seen anyone moving outside, other than the man who’d checked out the pickup, only the silhouettes in the house. His eyes closed and his head dropped.
The sudden contact of his nose against the rifle caused his eyes to pop open and tears to well up from the sharp pain. More tears formed at the thought of failing his family. I have to stay awake and watch. They’re depending on me, he told himself, over and over. It was easier said than done. Despite his resolve, his eyelids drooped closed.
The rumble of a Harley engine opened them. He was instantly awake as doors slammed and more of the ear-splitting motors fired up. His heart raced and he breathed fast. As the bikes roared down the road, accompanied by the pickup trucks and Aunt Heather’s Jeep, he was startled to find Aunt Heather beside him.
She placed her lips against his ear and spoke quietly. “It’s going to get light before long. I want to get over to the shop before it does. You stay put and keep watch. I’ll check the shop and house to make sure they didn’t leave someone behind to watch for us. If you hear shooting, stay put until I come out.”
Chad didn’t want to ask what to do if he heard shooting and she didn’t come out. He didn’t want to face that possibility.
As if the night hadn’t been long enough, time dragged on for another half an eternity while he waited for Aunt Heather to show. His mind ran wild and he imagined her being overpowered by hidden thugs. And it wasn't only worrying making him yearn to see Aunt Heather walk out of the house. He had another problem that got more pressing the longer he hid in the ditch. He needed to pee. The pressure in his bladder grew stronger and stronger until he couldn’t sit still any longer. He moved to his hands and knees to crawl away as Aunt Heather materialized out of the gloom beside him.
“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked quietly.
Chad jumped at her sudden appearance and nearly wet himself. “Oh geez Aunt Heather, don’t you know better than to sneak up on someone with a gun. But I’ve got to pee, for like the last half hour. I’ll be right back.”
“You can stand and walk if you want. I looked all over and didn’t find anyone,” Aunt Heather said.
Chad stood and hobbled away, his left leg numb from the long hours in the ditch. He soon returned to Aunt Heather, greatly relieved. “So what now?” he asked.
“Well, you know we figured we had to leave when your folks were able. That timeframe was moved up to right now. Those animals destroyed the house. It’s not livable even if we planned on staying. We need to get everything we can loaded into the pickup and get the heck out of here as fast as possible,” Aunt Heather said.
Leaving home; the idea had seemed far away while he and Aunt Heather planned and discussed it. But it was no longer a plan far away in the future. The time had come to leave the only home he’d ever known; the home where he, his parents, and his sisters had been so happy. With a lump in his throat, Chad said, “Well I guess we better get everyone out of the root cellar and get busy.”
While they walked to the root cellar, Chad wind-milled his arms as much as he could while keeping the rifle sling on his shoulder, glad to be up and moving. His cold stiff muscles warmed from the action.
#
“Dad, Mom, it’s us,” Chad’s muffled voice said into the silent root cellar. “You can come out.”
The hay and planks were moved as fast as the two could manage, and Dan led Lisa and the girls out into the pre-dawn gloom. Dan saw the expression on Heather’s face and knew in an instant her news wasn’t good. “What is it, Heather? I see you’ve got something to say.”
“We need to pack up and get out of here as fast as we can. They trashed the house. It’s unlivable, and it’s certainly not safe to stay here,” Heather said.
Dan studied her. She and Chad had told him before that they’d be leaving but he hadn’t accepted it. There had to be a way they could stay. “I have to see the house before I agree to anything,” he said.
“Suit yourself, but it’s not pretty,” Heather stated grimly. “I’m staying out here, and getting started loading your pickup.”
Dan led his family to the back door of the house while Heather went into the root cellar. Inside the cellar, she picked up the first box of home canned food she came to. The pickup had to be loaded and the faster it was done, the better.
#
Dan stopped inside the door to the kitchen, stunned. The early dawn light filtered through the windows enough he could make out what was in the room. Make it out, but not understand it. How could people do that? The kitchen was a shambles. All the cabinets were opened, and the contents pulled out and smashed on the floor. From his vantage point he couldn’t see anything that hadn’t been damaged, nothing at all. He walked in a daze towards the living room, broken plates crunching underfoot.
The destruction in the living room was complete as well, the walls perforated from gunshots and not a window intact. While Dan surveyed the needless destruction, the confusion turned to rage inside him. There was no need to trash everything. In an unraveling world where people needed to stand together, this group was bent on more destruction. It was senseless, totally senseless. His rage was akin to what he felt when Matt died. They needed to pay for what they’d done!
It wasn’t only seeing his violated and trashed home fueling Dan’s rage. Thoughts of his family and how those animals had endangered them added more fuel to his inner fire. It caused the fire to flare up to a raging inferno as he looked around. It wasn’t just his home, but his family’s home, their refuge. He shuddered to think what would’ve happened if those . . . beasts . . . had gotten ahold of his family. Those weren’t men; those were wild, rabid animals. And everyone knew there was only one way to deal with a rabid animal.
At the door to the girl’s bedroom, his nose was affronted by the stench of human waste. His rage burned hotter when he saw what’d been done in the room. The light yellow bedspreads had been used for toilets, and the entire room was soiled. The inferno raged, but he showed a calm resolve in front of his family. “We better load up and get out of here. Maybe we can salvage something, but I wouldn’t bet on it.” He turned and went to his bedroom to see how bad it was.
#
The root cellar was empty, the pickup bed and camper shell unable to hold anything more. Heather pulled the shell’s door down and turned the latch. She’d have to make sure they locked it before they pulled away, so it couldn’t pop open while they traveled. It would’ve been nice to have Chad in back so he could watch behind them, but everything had been thrown together so fast, he wouldn’t fit. They’d have to rely on the mirrors to watch for anyone coming at them from behind.
Dan was at the side of the pickup, emptying his gas cans into the pickup’s tank. They had enough fuel to get to Heather’s place on Reynolds Creek, but she didn’t think they had enough for much beyond that. She hoped they wouldn’t have to make any detours. With the gas cap back on, Dan went to the front of the pickup and raised the hood. He wouldn’t start the trip without making sure the oil and coolant levels were good. They couldn’t count on AAA on this trip.
The rest of the family was still in the house, searching for anything useful. Heather looked at the house and willed them to hurry. Her skin crawled like she was being watched, and it’d gotten worse as the morning progressed. She wanted to be gone; they should be gone! She wished Lisa would get a move on, but it had to be hard, very hard, to leave so much behind. Heather glanced around for anything they might have missed in their haste.
The storage shed had been gone through in a rush, but maybe they’d missed something useful. She walked inside, looking all around while listening for Lisa and the kids. She only found an ax that’d been missed in the mess made by the bikers. She picked it out of the clutter and headed for the pickup. Looking at the house, she wondered what could be taking so long when her nose was affronted by body odor strong enough to curl her nose hair.
She looked in alarm for the source of the nasty smell. Three people approached from the road, as near the pickup as she was. She looked at her AR, where it hung out of reach on the pickup’s side mirror. It might as well have been in the house for all the good it would do her. She could never reach it in time.
|
|
|
Post by bretf on Jul 5, 2022 4:40:16 GMT -6
Chapter 35
Heather returned her gaze to the three stooges and gave them a quick analysis. The first one captured her attention for his enormous bulk. It was obvious he hadn’t missed any meals since the crises began. He was easily three hundred pounds and wheezed when he moved. He wouldn’t be the most immediate threat.
The second man looked like a long-term convict. Snakehead tattoos adorned each hand, with the bodies twisting up his arms. He looked sculpted and fit like his rehabilitation time had been spent pumping iron. Nice of the state to make hardened criminals harder, she thought wryly. He’ll be dangerous.
The third one was a woman, but she sent chills down Heather’s spine. She had a look in her eyes, a crazed look Heather had seen overseas. Those mad, feverish eyes that’d flashed before the bomb detonated and killed two of her companions, as well as the person with those mad eyes. The woman had a large knife in her right hand, held loose with the blade up. She had a pistol as well, but it was holstered on her side. It was obvious she preferred the knife. Unnerved, Heather decided she had to be eliminated first. Logic told her the woman could wait until the men had been dealt with, but facing guns and bullets was preferable to what she read in those demented eyes.
“That sure was nice of y’all to get that truck all loaded up for us,” the huge man drawled. “We thought about coming out earlier, but seein’ how y'all was doing all the work, we figured we might as well let ya finish gettin’ it packed for us.”
Heather didn’t waste time responding to the fool. If she was to have any chance at all, she had to act fast.
She heaved the ax at the convict and drew her revolver. She raised it in a smooth motion, thumbing the hammer back, and aimed at the center of mass. The gun bucked in her hand as she fired, and she cocked it as she pulled it down from the powerful recoil and squeezed the trigger again the moment the sights were aligned on the woman’s chest. The crazed eyes showed shock as they glazed over. The wicked-looking knife dropped to the ground.
Heather thumbed the hammer and swung the revolver. The convict was bringing his rifle to bear on her and she hurried her shot. As she fired, she saw the fat man’s rifle aimed at her and jumped sideways.
He moved fast for such a huge man who’d been having trouble breathing, much faster than she’d expected. The sound of bullets whipping past her head preceded her own shot into his bulk. It might as well have been Chad’s air rifle for all the effect it appeared to have on him. The giant stood in place, unfazed, though she knew she’d hit him. She shot again, then held the revolver ready and waited for him to topple. It didn’t happen. The bullet affected him as little as the first one had. The big man gave a slight head shake, blinked, and aimed his rifle at her.
She focused on the huge man, took deliberate aim at the bridge of his nose, and pulled the trigger. In her peripheral vision, she noted the convict running down the driveway, but she couldn’t deal with him. Not yet anyway. Not until the other man was no longer a threat. The monster swayed, teetered, and toppled, his finger tightening on the trigger. The rifle was fully automatic and fired a burst into the ground as the man fell. Rocks flew and several peppered Heather in the face, one ripping a nasty gash at her hairline.
Stunned from the rock blows and her ears ringing from the shots, she swayed while she aimed at the retreating figure and pulled the trigger. She didn’t hear another explosive shot, only an empty click.
“Stinking revolver; I knew I’d need more shots,” she hissed.
The running convict was at the street, and Heather saw the motorcycles they must’ve pushed down the road and left in the barrow pit. He had to be stopped! If he got on that bike, he’d alert the rest of his group. They wouldn’t be able to leave without having the raiders find and swarm them. She had to get her rifle and stop him!
She jumped for it and froze, looking in wonder at Dan. He had his .30-06 pulled tight to his shoulder with his right eye to the scope. The rifle rested on the closed pickup hood, and the barrel was following the running man. She mentally urged him to squeeze the trigger.
#
Dan tried to center the crosshairs on the retreating form, but despite using the hood for a rest, he couldn’t settle on his target. Even before being weakened by the pox, he’d never been good at moving shots; in fact, he wouldn’t shoot at a running deer or elk. It was a good way to wound an animal and lose it if the shot wasn’t clean. He preferred clean kill shots. If he shot and missed, the man might hit the dirt and make himself a tougher target to hit. The fire raged in him and he breathed in and out slowly, controlling the rage, and waited for the perfect opportunity. It would present itself; it always did if he remained patient. He just had to wait for it.
“SHOOT DAN, DO IT!” Heather yelled.
Dan didn’t hear a word. He was focused solely on waiting for the right moment. He knew the man and fumed inside as he waited. It was Ben, the man Lee had given a second chance despite his past, who’d worked at the shop for a short time. He must’ve watched and listened to the workers as he lingered silently at the coffee pot, and categorized everything for his friends. It couldn’t be a coincidence they’d shown up; the man must’ve told his friends what he knew of Dan. He silently cursed the man and cursed John for saying he’d go to Dan’s if the shit ever hit the fan.
Ben reached his bike, and the engine roared to life.
Heather yelled again.
Ben slammed the bike into gear and was motionless for an instant.
It was enough; it was the moment Dan had been waiting for. The crosshairs settled on the center of the shaved head and he gently squeezed the trigger.
“Yep, be patient and the opportunity will come,” he said softly. Ben disappeared from view and the motorcycle toppled over, its engine sputtered and died.
Dan looked over at Heather, a trail of blood running down her face from a rock cut. “You know, motorcycle riders really should wear helmets. If he’d been wearing one, it might’ve saved his life.” He looked back at the street and spat. “Then again, I don’t think it would have.” He chambered a fresh round into the rifle and pocketed the spent brass.
Lisa and Chad ran from the house and stopped in front of Dan and Heather. Lisa was white as a sheet as she surveyed her husband and sister. She started to dab at Heather’s face with a handkerchief, but Heather brushed her hand away and said, “I can clean up later. We have to get out of here. When those gomers don’t show up, the others are sure to come looking for them.”
“All right, but what do we do with them?” Lisa asked, pointing at the bodies.
“There’s got to be hungry dogs around. They can clean this mess up,” Dan said. “But we’ll take their weapons, and anything else they’re carrying that’s useful. Now get the girls. We’re leaving.”
In answer to his statement, another motorcycle engine roared to life farther down the road.
“Damn!” Dan exclaimed and aimed at the moving shape.
Heather shrieked, “GET HIM DAN!”
Dan cursed again. He hated moving shots. Trying to hold the crosshairs on the moving figure, he slowly exhaled and squeezed the trigger. The motorcycle swerved and slowed looking like it was going to fall. But the rider regained control and hunched over the handlebars, accelerated. Dan fired again, and a third time. Had the rider faltered again, Dan wondered.
“Oh God, Dan,” Heather said beside him. “You hit him at least once, but was it enough? We have to hurry and get the hell out of here.”
Chad ran to the house and ushered his sisters out while Dan and Heather checked the corpses. The girls climbed into the back seat of the extended cab pickup while Lisa tried to keep them from looking at the bodies. “You get in the back too, Chad,” Heather said when she joined them. “Right behind your dad so you can get a gun out the window if something comes up. Dan, you drive. Lisa, you’re in the middle up front.”
Dan and Lisa got right in, but Chad lingered, looking over his home, their home that was no longer their home. It frightened him to be leaving, leaving the known danger their home had become, for the unknown. Would they ever feel safe and comfortable again, and how long might it take? He scanned the home one more time. Aunt Heather was watching the road in the direction the biker had disappeared. Chad bumped shoulders with her and said, “We better get going. There’s no telling what we’ll run into.”
|
|
|
Post by CountryGuy on Jul 5, 2022 8:41:11 GMT -6
Great installments Bret!
|
|
|
Post by bretf on Jul 6, 2022 6:38:27 GMT -6
Chapter 36
“So, I guess you have a plan,” Dan said as he stopped the pickup at the road, unsure of which way to turn.
“Yeah, Chad and I worked it out. Go left,” Heather said.
He didn’t pull out right away, but looked at Heather and said, “So, I take it we’re going to your place?”
“Yep,” Heather said. “So can we go before the rest of those gomers come back?”
Still, Dan didn’t pull onto the road. “Did you give any thought to going the other way? To Hamilton maybe?” he asked.
“We discussed it,” Heather said. “But we don’t know where he lives or how to find him. Or if he’d take us in if we did find him. There are too many unknowns Dan, but we know how to find my place, and we’ll all be welcome.”
Dan hesitated a little longer. Hamilton was in the same direction the biker had gone, but still, he hesitated and looked down the road wistfully. So he’d missed the chance to meet his other son. He was going farther away from him and the world had gone to hell. Would he ever get to meet him, he wondered, or was the opportunity gone forever? It looked like all chances were gone if he turned left onto the road as Heather instructed.
Dan lowered his head and asked the Lord to bless their decision and allow him to find Mateo someday. Then he pulled out in the direction Heather indicated and drove down the road.
Though not heavily traveled, the road past their home usually had occasional traffic. At least it had in the past. Things had drastically changed and the road was deserted. The only time before getting sick Dan had seen the road so empty was in the dark of night, and the latter part of the night at that.
It was eerie traveling on the barren road without another vehicle anywhere, like he’d been transported to another planet, or another country, at least. The sight was something he never would’ve believed he’d see near their home.
“My God, how long has it been this way?” he asked.
“A little over a week I guess,” Chad said. “Right after the bombs, it was deserted for a couple of days. Then, people must’ve got hungry. We saw more traffic, for I don’t know, a week or ten days before it dropped off again until we might see one car a day the last week.”
Dan shook his head, finding it hard to believe the foreign sight was the area where he lived. “So, I wonder what it’ll be like out at your place Heather,” he said.
“I don’t know, but you need to step on it. We’ve got to put distance behind us,” she said, “Or we won’t get the chance to find out.”
“Right, and I’m sorry if you told me before and I’m making you repeat yourself, but I don’t remember much from the last month. Do you think we can cross the bridge at Johnsonville?” Dan asked.
“No, I don’t think . . . oh Lord, look at that,” Heather said. She was transfixed by a large house set back from the road in the middle of a hay field. It was one of the large, extravagant homes that’d been popping up in the local fields and dwarfed the modest farmhouses that’d stood for decades. Before the pandemic, houses had become the newest cash crop in the area. The house Heather indicated was no longer extravagant.
Dan slowed the pickup and they all stared at the house, rather what remained of it. Burned timbers stuck out of jumbled piles of brick. Most disturbing was the blue Dodge pickup in the driveway riddled with bullet holes. The passenger side was towards the road, the door open. A small arm hung out, pointing stiffly at the ground.
“Is that . . .” Chad asked, unable to complete the question.
“Yeah . . . that’s the same pickup,” Heather said softly.
Dan didn’t want to know the story that went with the shot up pickup. “So, the bridge at Johnsonville is out for us? How are we crossing the river?” he asked.
Heather pulled her eyes away from the magnetic draw of the destroyed home and resumed scanning the area for threats. She didn’t answer Dan right away as she thought about the night they’d endured and the destroyed house. That could’ve been Chad and the girls if I didn’t hear the shooting, she told herself. She was quiet for a while, collecting her thoughts before she told Dan, “The Johnsonville Bridge was closed when I tried to cross last time. I ended up crossing on the Swan Valley Dam. I think that’s our best bet again.”
Dan knew there was another story there she wasn’t telling him. Maybe he’d heard it when he was sick, he didn’t know. Perhaps it was better not remembering. Heather and Chad surely had plenty of stories from the time he’d been stuck in the shop, but he didn’t want to hear any of them. He didn’t even want to know what had happened to the cows.
The family’s safety was his sole concern at the moment. So rather than stories, he strained to hear the deep rumble of Harley engines. He pictured the man who’d gotten away causing a frenzy when he returned to his lair and was certain the raiders were going to appear at any moment and start shooting. The thought found words and he glanced at Heather and asked, “So, how much time do you think we have before those bikers are after us?”
“I have no idea, but I’m sure they’ll be mad as hornets from a kicked over nest. The further we get from here, the better,” Heather said. “But if they find us, we’ll deal with it.”
The terrified family had no way to know one of Dan’s shots had proven fatal. The biker had driven a couple miles from their home when blood loss caused him to lose control of the powerful motorcycle. Bike parts and shredded, bloody clothing decorated the black surface for twenty yards leading up to the mangled corpse.
The rest of the bikers were unaware, sleeping off the night’s activities. They’d gorged themselves at the Smoke’s home and followed it with ample amounts of liquor from the first house they’d raided. The raspy-voiced leader was snoring loudly in a drunken stupor, the new sleeping bag tight around him and his companion. They slept soundly while the soft, damp scabs from Dan’s pustules pressed against their bare skin.
#
It was quiet in the cab as the distance between the family and the burned home grew farther. Dan broke the silence, not sure of the best route to drive. When he’d gone fishing at Swan Valley, he’d always driven the main roads, right through the towns along the way. “Okay Heather, tell me where and when to turn. I’d imagine you’re taking us on backroads as much as possible.”
“Yeah, we should avoid people if we can.”
“Well, we’re doing a good job of it so far. I wonder where everyone is,” Dan said.
They hadn’t seen a soul since leaving home. Most houses appeared to be abandoned. Yellow quarantine tape was a common sight. Of all the houses they’d passed up to that point, they’d seen only one chimney emitting smoke. It was at an old, large farmhouse. A big barn was set back from the house with a stout corral adjoining it. A few black cattle were standing and lying in the corral. It was also the first livestock the family had seen. The entire area seemed other-worldly. Besides the one farmhouse, they saw no visible signs of life under the gray, muted sky.
Heather and Chad had spent hours with their heads together over maps, plotting their course. It felt like a minor miracle the maps were still usable after the needless destruction of everything else in the house. Heather held an open map and directed Dan to the out of the way route they’d picked. Dan did as he was told, and drove down silent roads none of them had ever been on before.
Even at that, they had to backtrack on two occasions when they saw roadblocks in the distance. Heather was glad they were in flat farm country and saw the obstacles from a safe distance; those roadblocks could be dangerous if they came onto one unaware. At the first sighting of something in the road ahead of them, Dan stopped the pickup. Heather studied the row of cars and instructed him to back up to the nearest driveway and go back the way they’d come. She picked out an alternate road and hoped against hope it was the last obstruction they ran into.
At the second roadblock, they had their only sighting of another living person. When the row of trucks across the road came into view, a man scurried behind one. Again, Heather had Dan backtrack and they chose another road going in the same general direction. They still didn’t encounter traffic, and Dan was amazed by how different it was from only a month ago when he’d last driven home from work. It didn’t seem possible.
There was little conversation during the drive with each person except for Alison and Brooke lost in their own thoughts. They were lost to sleep soon after Dan reached traveling speed. Even with their mom’s comforting presence, the root cellar had been a scary place for them and they’d remained awake throughout the stressful night.
The tension eased as the miles rolled away behind them without hearing motorcycles. Tilled farmland gave way to natural vegetation and rangeland as they approached the river. At Heather’s direction, Dan pulled off the road at the overlook above the Swan Valley Dam. Everyone clambered out of the pickup except the girls. They woke, but stayed on the seat, awareness coming to them slowly. After scanning the emptiness around them, Heather led the way to the overlook. Chad lingered beside the pickup, stretching. Too many body parts were stiff after the long hours in the ditch, followed by the time in the small back seat. When the worst of the kinks were worked out, he glanced at the girls to make sure they weren’t getting out and joined his parents and aunt at the valley’s rim.
The ground dropped off abruptly from the overlook to the valley below. The wide green-blue water of the reservoir filled much of the valley, ending at the old dam and powerhouse, the narrow ribbon of the river flowing away from it. The road they would traverse switch-backed down the steep slope.
“I wish I still had my binoculars so I could check it out better,” Heather grumbled as she studied the road and buildings below. “But no, I had to leave them where those gomers could see them, along with most of my stuff.” Although it was far from bright out with the ever-present gray clouds, she put her hand over her eyes to further shade them.
“Here use this,” Dan said and handed her his rifle with the four-power scope.
“Thanks.” She put her eye to the scope, welcoming the larger view of the dam and buildings it afforded. “I don’t see anyone . . . or vehicles that weren’t here when I came through before. But the old powerhouse; I left the doors closed. They’re open now and one looks busted.” She continued to study the area while she gave Chad and Dan a running commentary of what she saw. Lisa had taken a quick look into the valley and returned to the pickup to be with the girls. “The pipe gate at the far side of the dam is also open, and I left it latched. Obviously, other people thought to use the dam as a bridge, but it doesn’t look like they cared about the building as much as I did.” She spent a few more minutes studying every bit of the valley she could see.
“Well, I think we better get going,” Heather said. She handed Dan’s rifle back to him and turned and walked to the pickup. “I didn’t see any threats, but just because I didn’t see them, doesn’t mean we won’t run into any.”
They drove down the road and made a sharp hairpin turn and descended into the valley. Heather stuck the barrel of her rifle out the window and glanced over her shoulder at Chad. He copied the move, his rifle at a sharp angle to keep from hitting his dad in the head.
The uneven ground and brush dotting the hillside would make perfect hiding places for someone, and that was before the concealment offered by the powerhouse and other buildings. It all had Heather on edge. She had Dan stop the pickup, and with him and Chad on each side of it with their rifles ready, she checked out the powerhouse on foot.
The guns weren’t needed, as the area was deserted; at least deserted of anyone who would threaten the family. If people were hiding, Heather had no intention of finding out. She wanted to be out of the confines of the valley as soon as possible.
Heather grumbled about the state of the human race when she saw how the old building had been treated since her last time through. One door had been ripped off the hinges, and the others swung freely where a strong wind might tear them loose. The museum displays she’d carefully moved out of the way were trashed. People had camped inside, leaving a large pile of ashes littered with tin cans. The white walls and ceiling were blackened by smoke. The stench of human waste came from the stairs leading down to the generator in the bowels of the dam. The condition of the building reinforced her low opinion of people.
She was almost glad the doors were open so Dan didn’t need to stop the pickup. Almost glad; it still bothered her to allow the weather into the historic building, but she didn’t tell Dan to stop. Safety came first. She shook her head in disgust at the people that’d treated the facility so badly. Reaching her place couldn’t come soon enough to suit her.
The dirt road leading up the slope from the dam showed further evidence of vehicles using the route. Heather had hoped the people that’d been in the area had chosen to stay along the river, but the road showed differently. She didn’t relish the idea of refugees streaming into the same area she was taking her family.
When they topped out above the valley and proceeded through the hilly countryside towards Heather’s home, it felt like an enormous weight had been removed from everyone and the tension eased. Brooke, who hadn’t said a word the entire ride, leaned over and whispered in her brother’s ear, a serious look on her face. “Chad, will we ever get to go home again?”
“I don’t know Brooke,” he said. “We might have to make a new home.” Although he meant the words for her, he was heard in the front seat as well. Dan’s grip on the steering wheel tightened and the somber atmosphere returned. It was like it’d never left.
The road passed from dry hillsides and dissected two irrigated hayfields. “This road we’re on will hit the highway a mile from the Reynolds Creek Road. I drove back and forth checking all the bridges and they were all blocked. I never needed the highway for more than one stinking mile,” Aunt Heather said with a snort. “And I wasted an entire day to get here.”
“Don’t let it bother you. You didn’t know what it would be like,” Dan said. “What matters is you made to our place.”
But it did bother her. She knew things like that could happen and she should’ve planned for it. She stewed in silence as they drove between the two dormant hayfields.
Following the short drive on the state highway, they were off the smooth blacktop surface and on the graded gravel road. The buildings in the area looked the same as when Heather had passed recently, but the access to the cluster of houses and sheds on the west side of the road was different. A new fence had been erected right beside the road Dan drove on. A second fence was inside it, six feet further back. The barbed wire was stretched tight on closely spaced railroad tie posts. The fences were higher, with strands of barbed wire spaced twice as close as any of the livestock fences in the area. They were crossable for a person who wasn’t in a hurry, but pity the person who tried to go through fast. While Heather studied the cluster of buildings inside the enclosure, she noticed rifle barrels sticking out of more than one window.
Dan stuck his hand out the window and waved over the roof of the pickup as he drove past. In normal times, everyone waved to each other in the area. It was no longer the case. The only answering movement he saw was the slight change of direction of a rifle barrel, following the progress of the vehicle.
“I guess they’ve had trouble around here too,” he said. “I don’t know; I’d hoped with the plan you guys had, maybe this place was far enough off the beaten path to be safe. Now I wonder how far up-country the scavengers went.”
Dan’s comments were met with silence. Heather stared straight ahead, her mouth clenched tight and her hands in a white-knuckle grip on the rifle. Lisa couldn’t help but notice how her sister was affected and shifted around so she could rub Heather’s tight shoulders. Heather never glanced her way but continued to stare ahead. Each mile on the gravel road affected her like the winding of an alarm clock. She grew tighter and tighter, every rock thump and bump in the road cementing her features more.
Dan slowed the pickup to turn off the road onto the two ruts in the dirt Heather called a driveway. In the past, he joked with her it wasn’t a driveway, it was a couple of cow trails which happened to run parallel. He hadn’t been far from the truth with his observations. For the first time ever when going to Heather’s house, he kept his mouth shut; it was no time to joke.
The pickup rounded the small rise the house was nestled behind and Dan slammed on the brakes.
“Dad, don’t do that,” Alison stated. With only the lap belt to secure her, her head had hit the back of the front seat despite the slow speed they were traveling.
Dan didn’t respond as he stared at the void; the void where the house should stand. Instead, there was burned wood, ash, and a jumbled pile of a collapsed chimney and wood stove. In another area, kitchen appliances were visible, sticking above the debris. A few wisps of smoke emitted from the pile.
Heather couldn’t stifle her string of obscenities despite the presence of the girls and Lisa.
Lisa didn’t admonish her sister, she didn’t even notice. She stared in stunned silence at their refuge, the remains of the home where they were going to be safe and able to ride out the crises.
Chad was the only one of the group who looked away from the smoldering remains of the house and saw the dirty flat-bed truck and the three men behind it.
|
|
|
Post by bretf on Jul 6, 2022 6:40:05 GMT -6
Chapter 37
Heather got out of the pickup in a trance and moved woodenly towards the remains of her house. “Kate, Rudy?” she called, and then called again louder.
“AUNT HEATHER, NO!” Chad yelled at her. He’d gotten his dad to snap out of the spell of the burned house enough to open the pickup door. Chad opened his own door and scrambled out. “MOM, GIRLS; GET DOWN! DAD, COME ON!” he snapped, and dashed to the front of the pickup. He laid his rifle across the hood and took aim at the rough looking trio behind the dirty truck.
“AUNT HEATHER!” he shouted. “GET UNDER COVER!” He wasn’t sure if he should stay where he was or try to tackle her. One of the men from the truck, the oldest of the three, took the decision from him while he hesitated.
“Hey, Red, it’s nice to see you,” the man called, stepping out from behind the truck. “I’d say welcome home, but crap, you ain’t come back to much of a home. You appear to’ve fared pretty well though since all the craziness started. So, how about asking your sidekick that’s calling you “Aunt Heather” to lower his rifle? He looks pretty serious. The boys might take it wrong having it pointed at them. Folks are kinda jumpy nowadays.”
“Wh . . . What . . . Jerry?” She strained to focus her watery eyes but was sure it was him. The grizzled rancher always called her “Red”. When she’d first introduced herself to him, he looked pointedly at her hair and said, "Every Heather blossom I’ve ever seen is purple. I’d understand if your folks named you Rose or for another flower with red blossoms, but Heather? Looks to me like they were a few shades off . . . Red.” He’d called her that ever since.
She walked closer, seeing him clearer and thought he looked older and harder than the last time she’d seen him. As if a weathered old juniper root or a rock could get any harder, but he had. According to the calendar, it hadn’t been all that long since she’d seen him, but in real life events, it’d been eons. “Jerry? Where’re Kate and Rudy? What happened to my house? What’s going on here?”
“Well, Red, ever since that dang football game, the crap’s been flowing downhill and your place was a low spot.” Jerry glanced at the pickup where Chad was still poised behind it, the muzzle of his rifle not wavering from the rancher’s chest. “Now, would you mind putting that young man that’s guarding your backside at ease before we do any more talking?” He slowly raised a hand while he spoke, held it palm open to show it was empty and pointed a finger at Chad.
Heather turned to see what he was talking about, unaware of Chad and his rifle. The burned house had drawn her, overwhelmed with concern for Kate and Rudy. Where were they anyway? “Oh yeah, sorry Jerry. It’s all right Chad. This’s Jerry. He’s one of the good guys.”
#
Chad hesitated, and then shifted the gun’s angle. It was no longer aimed at Jerry, but not all that far from him. The memory of the previous night was burned into his mind. Aunt Heather might trust the guy, but he wanted to know what those three were doing at what was left of her house.
“That’s better,” Jerry said, though his eyes tightened a bit. “Now I think introductions are in order. Come on out boys. The one on the right is Art, and the other one is Claude. Boys, this is Red, although her color-blind parents called her Heather. She’ll have to introduce us to the rest of her party. How about starting with your guard, Red.”
“Come over here Chad,” Heather said.
Chad held his position a little longer, sighed, and walked to Aunt Heather without relaxing his hold on the rifle. He hoped she knew what she was doing. It looked suspicious to him, the three men standing around the remains of her house.
The rancher watched Chad and suppressed a grin. “You got grit kid,” he said.
“Jerry, this is my nephew, Chad. He and I have been working together since the nukes hit. He might be young, but you’re right, he’s made of pretty tough stuff,” Heather said. “Chad, this is Jerry; he’s a neighbor. Well, what we consider a neighbor around here. He only lives two miles away.”
Jerry held his hand out. Chad hesitated, still cautious. He decided he had no choice but to trust his aunt’s judgment. He switched to a one-hand hold on his rifle and shook the extended hand. The old rancher’s grip was firm, and Chad thought he could sand wood with the hand, it was so rough and calloused.
“Why are you here?” Chad asked pointedly. “Looking at what was Aunt Heather’s house?”
Jerry’s rough face hardened more. “We came over to see if it was still smoking and if the smoke had drawn any vermin. They tend to prey on lone houses when they see chimney smoke. But enough about that; it’s good to meet you son. That was pretty impressive, the way you kept your wits when you saw us. That’s an important trait now, a danged important trait. Are you a jarhead or something?” Jerry asked.
Chad stared at the lined face and formed the word in his mind. Jarhead? What’s the old coot talking about?
Jerry released Chad’s hand as Heather said, “Funny Jerry, now where’re Kate and Rudy?”
“We’ll get to that after I know who it is I’m talking to.”
The frustration was obvious in her voice, when Heather said, “Oh all right. This is Dan, my brother in law, Chad’s dad.” He’d walked up on Heather’s side, opposite Chad.
Jerry turned with his hand extended and saw Dan clearly for the first time. It was a shock to register Dan’s face and hands, scarred from smallpox. Jerry’s hand dropped to his side and he took two steps back. His eyes flashed between Heather, Chad, and the pock-marked man, and he stepped farther back.
After clearing his throat, Jerry said, “Sorry, I haven’t been around anyone that got the pox. From what I heard before the news went down, that stuff killed pretty much everyone that got it, right after they gave it to everyone around them. Yet here you stand, all three of you.”
Jerry looked uncomfortable standing near them. He was further unnerved when Lisa got out of the pickup and walked over to stand near Dan and Heather. “Are you . . . I take it . . . you’re not contagious? I mean for Red and your youngster to be with you and all.” His eyes darted between all of them and he stepped further back.
“We’re pretty sure they’re safe to be around,” Heather said. “According to the papers the CDC gave Dan, they’re not contagious after all the scabs come off those spots. But honestly, we haven’t had time to test and confirm the information. They just came out of quarantine and we’ve been in crisis mode ever since.”
“What crises did you get on top of everything else?” Jerry asked.
Heather looked at the remains of her house and couldn’t stop her tears. “Dan and Lisa’s house was trashed last night, and we had to shoot our way out. Most of the bast . . . the guys were gone then, but I’m sure the rest are looking for us. We really needed my house to be here. Now . . . we don’t have anywhere to go.” Heather stared at the rubble that should be her house and swiped at her wet cheeks.
It was quiet while Jerry pondered over what Heather said and then he looked at Dan with a piercing stare. “As I said, the news said the pox was pretty much fatal for everyone who caught it. What’d you do, that you, and I’m guessing this is your wife, both made it?”
Dan met the look. “I’m not sure what worked for us. We’ve always tried to eat well and not pollute our bodies with all the chemicals and who knows what else is in mass-produced food. Maybe we weren’t as compromised as other people when we got it. Also, I believe in the healing properties of honey, elderberries, and other herbals. We drank tea and tinctures made of them constantly. We drank lots of home-made chicken broth and vegetable soup from our garden. Those things and acetaminophen for fever reduction was our treatment.
“The CDC inoculated each of us when I was exposed, but they did the same for the fellas I worked with. I know . . . at least two of them . . . didn’t make it. . . I have no idea if one of those things in particular helped, or if it was the combination of all of them. Regardless, we both pulled through, although it wasn’t without rough patches.”
Jerry pointed at Heather and Chad, and asked, “How is it the pox never spread to these two?”
“We kept totally apart from them. They got the house, and we lived in the shop,” Dan said.
#
Jerry scanned the group while he thought. He could see a steely resolve in Dan, and Chad too for one so young. And he knew Heather had served in the army overseas. He’d like to know more details of what happened when they were leaving their home, but it was enough for the time being to know they’d been in a gunfight and come out on top. Battle tested, they’d be welcome additions if trouble came. Judging by what he’d seen recently, he expected trouble to come in droves before things settled down again. Extra bodies, fighters actually, might be needed if his family was to keep their home and not end up fleeing from a stronger force. Like the group in front of him had already done.
“So tell me more about those papers you were given, and what they said about being contagious,” Jerry said.
Dan and Chad took turns telling Jerry everything they’d learned from the CDC information. Dan told how he and Lisa had bathed and scrubbed thoroughly, and put on fresh clothing afterward. All the while, Heather grew more impatient.
Jerry considered everything he’d heard and looked at the remains of Heather’s burned house. “Excuse me for a minute,” he said and gestured to his sons to follow him. They walked away, stopping behind their truck and had a hushed conversation. It lasted more than the minute Jerry had said he needed.
When the three men had come to an agreement, Jerry walked back to the Smoke family. He scrutinized them further and made up his mind. “Pardon me if I refrain from shaking hands with you, Dan”
Dan smiled grimly and said, “I understand completely.”
“So I tell you what, you folks can come up and stay at our place,” Jerry said. “We don’t have a lot of room since the kids came back home with their families when this crap started, but we can make room for you in one of the outbuildings. But you better not be afraid of work, cause I’ll have your tail end dragging most days. Nothing’s going to be easy from here on.”
Alison and Brooke materialized on each side of Lisa, their eyes wide. They studied the weathered stranger in the wide-brimmed hat and cowboy boots. “We can stay? Really? Do you have horses?”
Jerry’s face softened at seeing the bookends. “Now who do we have here? And to answer your question, yes, I do have horses.”
Alison was instantly shy with the rancher’s gaze on her. Her twin wasn’t. “I’m Brooke and that’s Alison. We’re sisters.”
Jerry chuckled at her. “I’m pleased to meet you ladies. If your family decides to stay on, you might get a chance to ride one of those horses. Now, Red, I’m guessing this is your sister with these two lovely girls.”
“Yes, my sister, Lisa, although it’s not as obvious as it is with those two,” Heather said, indicating the twins. As the introductions were made, Art and Claude stayed back.
“So Jerry, what happened to my house? And where’re Kate and Rudy?” Heather asked. She’d stopped crying but looked ready to start again at any moment.
Jerry’s severe expression returned to his face. “A couple of days ago, we heard an explosion over here. Me and the boys got here as soon as we could. It appeared the propane tank ignited. The house was blown to hell on that side, and what was left was blazing. There were a couple of cars out here and five bodies. It looked like a bunch of hoods tried to take the place and your people fought back. They did pretty well for a couple of old hippies. We finished off a couple more when they thought it’d be a good idea to shoot at us.”
“Who were they? And you still haven’t told me where Kate and Rudy are.”
“Yeah, well, they appeared to be some of those city lowlifes that were always in the news for making trouble. You know, the ones doing the drive-by shootings and knifings. They wore those danged pants that showed all their butt, and wife-beater shirts. They all had matching crappy tattoos on their necks. They weren’t worth the effort to bury. We dropped them in a draw for coyote food.”
“But Kate and Rudy, Jerry. Where are they?”
Jerry’s face softened. “With the flames, we couldn’t get into your house, it was too hot. Art went back home and got the front end loader so we could bust a wall down, but it’s not fast. So what was left of the house was burned down quite a bit when he got back. He moved what was left around until we found your people inside.
“Follow me while I talk. We think the explosion killed them outright, but shoot, none of us are forensic guys.” Jerry led the way to the hillside behind the ruins. “We buried them over here.” He pointed to a mound of fresh dirt, marked by two simple wooden crosses.
Heather would’ve collapsed, but for Lisa embracing her and holding her tight while she grieved.
|
|
|
Post by bretf on Jul 8, 2022 7:01:46 GMT -6
Chapter 38
Chad walked aimlessly around the remains of Aunt Heather’s house. The explosion and flames had completely destroyed it and nearly destroyed his hope. Hope he’d clung to through the long night and tense ride. Hope based on the knowledge they had a safe home to go to. Hope. He stopped and stared at the destruction of the home and his hope. He would have cried but for Jerry. The old rancher’s offer kept some hope alive. But still . . .
He looked across the ruins at Jerry and his sons. Recent events had changed him and he couldn’t help but question why Jerry had made the offer. Did he have ulterior motives?
Chad wanted to accept it at face value but was leery. Since the pox hit, he hadn’t seen any acts of kindness; it’d been every man for himself. Including at his own home, he reflected, although he and Aunt Heather hadn’t shot at the cow thieves when they could have.
He looked around again taking it all in - the fresh graves, the ruins of the house, the old rancher and his sons, his scarred parents, his strong aunt who’d turned into an emotional wreck - and wondered if they’d ever feel safe again. Or if it was even possible. Could his sliver of hope grow and flourish in such a messed up world?
So much for this place being a safe refuge because it’s so far out in the sticks, he thought. And what would’ve happened if we were here when those guys came? Would we be in graves too? Are there any safe refuges now, or is this the way of it? What’s going to happen next? Is Jerry’s place any safer than this?
While he brooded, his family, and the rancher and his sons went to their respective vehicles. “Come on Chad, we’re going,” his dad called. They were going to Jerry’s ranch, to what would be their new home.
After another look at Aunt Heather’s destroyed house, he shuffled to the pickup, climbed in and pulled the door closed. His dad closed his door and turned the pickup around. They turned onto the Reynolds Creek Road and followed the flatbed truck.
As they went, Chad studied his parents. Throughout the sickness, his greatest desire was for them to get well. More times than he wanted to consider, he didn’t expect to ever see either alive again. But they didn’t die; they’d both beaten the odds and survived the smallpox. They were what mattered, well, them and the rest of his family. He looked at them and his hope grew.
They were all right there, close enough to touch. His folks might be weak, but they were alive. They’d all survived the pox, the nukes, and the raiders. They might not have a home of their own, but his dad could always find a solution to any problem. With his parents well, they’d be able to make things work.
It might take time for Aunt Heather though. His mom was doing her best to comfort her, but it didn’t appear to be helping. She’d been distraught since seeing the graves. The loss of her house and belongings hadn’t affected her anything like the deaths of her friends.
“I should’ve taken them with me to your house, and not left them alone. No house is worth dying over,” she sniffled. “I failed them.”
The girls were a marked contrast to the adults. They’d put the stressful night, morning, and flight from their home behind them. They whispered to each other, excited about the prospects of going to a working ranch with real horses. Chad envied them and hoped they wouldn’t be disappointed. They’d had too much disappointment recently; it had to end sometime, didn’t it?
For the girl’s sake, for all their sake, he hoped things would go smoothly with Jerry. For weeks, he’d felt like they were in one of those cartoon snowballs which got bigger and bigger, gaining mass and momentum as it rolled downhill. Maybe the snowball had finally stopped growing and would break up and melt.
The road forked past an old abandoned one-room schoolhouse, a lone sentinel on the small rise. The building was weathered by time and exposure after decades without maintenance, but it was still standing. It was a stark reminder of a time when the region had prospered and the area crawled with pioneers, all filled with dreams of making their fortune in the new state. Most of them left the area disappointed, their dreams crushed and their pockets empty.
Chad studied the building as they passed and wondered how many modern buildings would be like the old schoolhouse: silent reminders of better times and lost dreams. He considered their house, shop, and barn. Would any of them last like the schoolhouse, or would they end up like Aunt Heather’s house, piles of rubble? Would there be anything to go back to? He turned his head and looked in front of them as his dad turned right.
Jerry’s truck stopped at a gate blocking the road. Art or Claude, Chad wasn’t sure which, got out of the truck, opened the lock and swung the gate open. Both vehicles pulled through, and the rancher’s son got back in the flatbed after re-locking the gate. They drove past one ranch house and into an area of alfalfa fields. Two more ranches were ahead, one on the left side of the road where it began a wide turn to the right, and the second ranch beyond the curve, on the opposite side of the road. The flatbed truck slowed and turned into the first ranch yard, the larger of the two.
Cottonwood trees towered over the old ranch house that was flanked on one side by a newer house. Across the driveway from the house was a long garage and machine shed. The lane they’d turned onto went past the garage into a large sandy lot. Farm equipment, a cattle truck, and trailers were arranged along the outside of the lot. A large barn was at the far side of the lot, as well as a long building with more farm machinery parked inside it. Numerous cattle were penned behind the building, looking at the haystack beside the barn.
Chad pointed to a corral attached to the barn. “Hey girls, look over there,” he said. Their faces lit up when they saw horses in the corral.
After parking the truck, Jerry made quick introductions to the rest of his family and asked for a meal to be made up for the newcomers. While the food was being prepared, he took Chad’s family to a shed which would become their living quarters. Stored items were pushed to the sides or carried elsewhere by Art and Claude. When they carried things away, they returned with pads and mats to use on the floor. It wasn’t luxury, but it was out of the weather.
Jerry surveyed the room and saw the look Chad shot him. “Chad, you better not play poker with the boys. I see the question written all over your face. You want to know what you’re doing here, rather why you’re here.”
“Uh . . . well . . . uh yeah, something like that,” he stammered.
“I reckon you’ve got the right to wonder with things the way they are,” Jerry said, “So I’ll tell you. It wasn’t all charity and goodwill on my part to offer you folks a place to stay. Yes, you need a place but there are a lot more people needing the same thing and you’re the first I’ve made the offer to. A lot of those folks are willing to take what they need, regardless of the consequences and how it affects other people. Are you with me so far?”
Chad nodded his head.
“I think you folks are different. I know Red is a good person, so I’m guessing the rest of you are too. You look like you know how to work, but also, you’ve seen the beast and made it here alive. I think the good have to band together now, because sure as hell, the bad ones will. So it’s a case of us helping each other, and just maybe, we’ll all get through this,” Jerry said.
Chad studied the weathered face and knew it was true. He felt his hope for the future grow and gave Jerry a more pronounced nod.
Dan was quiet through the exchange and Jerry noted it. “What about you Dan?”
Dan had an anguished look when he said, “It’s not that I don’t appreciate what you’re doing for us Jerry, because I do. But I feel so worthless. I threw myself into our home and now we don’t have anything. I . . . well, I never pictured anything like this happening.”
Lisa took Dan’s hand and squeezed gently. “You’re wrong Hon. We have what’s important, we have each other. We’re together, all of us. Everything else was material. This is what matters.”
Dan looked into her deep eyes. At last, he nodded. “Together. All of us together.”
To Jerry, he said, “My wife is a lot smarter than I am. Sometimes she has to hit me in the head to make me see clearly.
“I’ve never been one to just give up, so we’ll do everything we need to do and build a new life and new home. Thank you, Jerry.”
“All right then, why don’t you folks finish up here,” Jerry said.
After sleeping bags were laid out, Jerry led the group to his house for the meal. Hunger battled with the need to sleep, but hunger won out when the smells of fresh cooking assailed their noses. Dan asked a quick blessing on the food and their current accommodations. He thanked the Lord for their hosts, and they began to eat.
After swallowing a bite of steak, Dan looked at Jerry where he sat at the head of the table cradling a cup of coffee. “We’re very grateful for you taking us in like this Jerry, but you shouldn’t have gone to the effort for such a meal. This steak is fabulous by the way, but we would’ve been fine without it. You should’ve saved it.”
Jerry laughed; an unexpected sound from the granite-faced man. “Steak isn’t a problem for us Dan. You see, we were in the cow business and the market is pretty well gone. We have all the beef we want and are going to have limited resources for keeping them fed. No, on this place, steak isn’t special; in fact, I’ll wager you’ll get darn tired of it before long. About the only good thing I’ve seen about this constant cloud cover is it keeps the temperature right for hanging meat.” He gave a wry chuckle before taking a sip of coffee.
Chad stabbed a bite of the meat and held it up and looked at Aunt Heather. Do you think it’s safe? was the silent question he tried to convey to her.
She’d quit crying once they arrived at the ranch, but was still quiet. She shrugged at him and tugged at her collar enough to reveal a bit of skin, stained red from iodine. Then she put a small bite in her mouth and chewed.
“Well, I’m not tired of it yet, and I say again, it’s fantastic,” Dan said.
“Good, you all eat as much as you want, then you better get some shut-eye. We can talk more tomorrow,” Jerry said. Stress and exhaustion were evident on their faces; they’d need adjustment time in a safe environment.
The sleeping bags were tight together, and as everyone settled in for the night, Chad relished the closeness. After his parents’ long seclusion, he welcomed the opportunity to be with them. Not just with them, but with his sisters and Aunt Heather as well; the entire family. It felt unreal they were all together after the last two months, and especially, the previous night. His mom was right. Everything and everyone who mattered was there together.
Nearby, his dad fell into exhausted sleep moments after his head hit the pillow. His mom wasn’t far behind in dropping off. The twins, more refreshed after sleeping during the trip, talked quietly about seeing horses and cows the next day.
Despite his exhaustion, sleep evaded Chad. His mind wouldn’t shut down, thinking of everything that’d happened to bring them to a stranger’s shed.
It seemed so long ago they were planning the trip to find his brother but held off because of the Super Bowl. What had happened since was unimaginable, especially THAT DAY, when Russia launched their nuclear missiles. But it’d happened, all of it, and there they were, refugees. He thought more about Mateo. “I wonder if he’s somewhere safe and if we’ll ever get to meet him.”
The girls quit talking and nodded off. The sounds of his sleeping family brought Chad’s thoughts back to them as he stared at the ceiling. His dad had survived the pox and was recovering, but he’d be weak. There was no time to relax and he had to step up and do more, a lot more. His family needed it and the new world they were in demanded it. And together, him, his parents, his sisters, and aunt, they’d build a new life in the harsh new world.
The old schoolhouse came to mind. “We’re the pioneers now. We have to build a new life. And with all of us together, we can do it,” he stated quietly to the ceiling.
“It’s not what we had in mind, but it’s our new home, a safe refuge,” Chad whispered to the cobweb-covered ceiling. “We’re home!” The only answer was deep breathing from his sleeping family.
|
|
|
Post by bretf on Jul 8, 2022 7:02:50 GMT -6
Chapter 39
Closing the door behind him, he looked up and grimaced at the heavy clouds stretching from horizon to horizon. Of course, they were still there. He wondered if they’d ever dissipate or if he’d live long enough to see blue sky again. Each time he looked up, his thoughts were darker than the cloud cover.
Although the sun should have been up for over an hour, the sky had the gloomy appearance of pre-dawn. The dull gray clouds which yielded neither rain nor snow, only sickness and death limited the light’s penetration as it trapped the contaminated air. The air which would take a bite out of his lifespan if he spent too much time exposed to it, also held a sharp bite of cold. He shivered as he looked at the sky despite his heavy coat, but not from the cold.
It was still winter although the calendar indicated it should be spring. Dirty snow lay piled in shaded areas. New growth was absent; there was nothing to add a splash of color to the dreary landscape; no green shoots, bright colors of emerging blossoms, or fresh red tips on the brush. Other than the snow, the world around him was all faded browns and grays.
He listened intently and heard . . . absolutely nothing. The silence was undisturbed. No birds were calling, no insects buzzing, or squirrels chittering. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard a coyote yip or howl. He missed the song dog’s serenades and wondered if he’d ever hear one again. The absence of sound coupled with the sky made him feel like he’d been transported to another world and it gave him the chills.
Yet despite the poisonous air and ominous feeling, he needed to get out into it, he had too. He was getting cabin fever, cooped up so much. He had responsibilities, after all, and against his better judgment, he’d been taking long walks, although he still tried to limit his exposure.
He looked at the sky again and growled. It was a constant reminder of all the needless death and destruction and was sure to cause more as long as the clouds persisted. Under their dark cover, men had turned into savage animals. Also, on his walks, he’d been finding dead wildlife, the animals’ hair falling out in large clumps.
He entered the brush following a game trail paralleling the road, all his senses attuned for any possible trouble. After a quarter mile, he froze in his tracks when he heard a disturbance ahead. With his rifle leading, he eased forward on soundless feet at an agonizingly slow pace. His head cleared a slight rise and he located the source of the sounds.
A deer, its head down, stumbled and crashed down in a patch of brush. It thrashed weakly, unable to rise. He longed to put a bullet in its head and end its suffering but didn’t want to draw attention to himself. It was feasible he wasn’t the only two-legged creature out. And if others were out, odds were they were of the savage variety.
He watched the deer while remaining attuned for other sounds. The poor animal; nature was paying a steep price for man’s stupidity and would continue to do so. As if with a mind of their own, his feet moved to the downed deer and his free hand reached in his pocket for the folding knife. He couldn’t use the rifle, but he could end the creature’s suffering another way. Hesitating, he watched the labored breathing and heard the wheezes. He set his rifle and pack aside and knelt on the deer’s head. It made a feeble effort to rise, and he whispered, “I’m sorry it’s come to this,” as he slit its throat. The deer’s final muscle contractions were weak kicks.
With a heavy sigh, he wiped his knife on the patchy fur, folded it, and slipped it into his pocket before he retrieved the pack and rifle. As he watched the deer’s lifeless carcass, he thought about all the cattle in the region and the people depending on them for sustenance. Prudence said they should shelter as many as possible, give them spring or well water, and only feed hay from deep stacks. But would it be enough? Were enough ranchers set up for it? And what about eating the meat? With little else to eat, they had no choice but eat the beef or starve. Was the contamination killing the food source and the consumers at the same time, and famine would only deepen? Would anyone survive, or was humanity going the way of the dinosaurs due to man’s arrogance and ignorance?
He was drawn from his reverie by the sound of an engine. He edged to where he could see the road and melted into cover. In moments a Polaris Razor pulling a trailer drove into view, headed down county. The machine held a gaunt-looking family.
The man driving appeared worn and beaten, and a teen boy in the other front seat looked as haggard. He held a rifle, but his head bobbed with the machine’s movement; he was asleep while riding shotgun. The back was occupied by a woman with a bundled child pulled up tight on each side of her.
They were obviously refugees. They must’ve fled their home to the seclusion of the mountains looking to find safety away from people. And circumstances were forcing them to return to the lower country. Many had sought the isolation the mountains offered he knew, but most of them were returning, lean, hungry, and hopeless.
They drove past and out of sight, never knowing they were watched. He silently wished them luck but knew good luck was hard to come by. It existed for people in their situation as he well knew, but was extremely rare. Life was harsh, and even harsher if you didn’t have a place to call home.
He also knew his own life would become harsher if he didn’t get back. He’d had more than enough exposure for one day. With a regretful look in the direction the Razor had gone and another quick glance at the dead deer, he hurried off, less mindful of noise than he’d been earlier. At the moment, speed was more important than stealth.
Once he was inside and at least partially protected from the toxic air, he shucked his pack and rifle. He made a cup of tea, sat where he could look outside, and picked up a book he’d left there earlier.
Mateo Gomez opened the book but couldn’t concentrate on the words in front of him. No matter how he tried, he kept seeing the hopelessness of the refugee family. He wished them well, but couldn’t see how they’d be able to survive in such an unforgiving world.
The End of Book One
|
|
|
Post by gipsy on Jul 8, 2022 8:28:02 GMT -6
Keep up the great writing.
|
|
|
Post by CountryGuy on Jul 8, 2022 9:58:41 GMT -6
Ahhh Bret, excellent work and Oh what a cliff you left us to dangle from... Thank you!
|
|
|
Post by bretf on Jul 10, 2022 4:40:40 GMT -6
Chad Smoke Brotherhood
Smoke’s Saga, Book 2
“Because brothers don’t let each other wander in the dark alone.”
Jolene Perry
Bret W Friend
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2019 by Bret W. Friend
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author and publisher.
Chapter 1
Chad Smoke stared at the dark house and willed Aunt Heather to appear. He’d been huddled in the ditch most of the night, the frozen ground leaching away his body heat. He was numb and exhausted but his discomfort paled in comparison to his anxiety. Aunt Heather, where are you? What’s happening? I’m scared! he tried to convey mentally.
She’d gone to the house to make sure none of the men who’d raided their home were still hiding inside. Before she left, she ordered him to stay put no matter what. It was a tense wait and he strained for any little sign of what was happening. His imagination ran wild; he heard phantom sounds and pictured the goons jumping out at her. His greatest fear was gunshots from the house. Coupled with the other scenarios flashing through his mind, he was certain if he heard shots it could only end in tragedy.
As he peered at the house in the pre-dawn gloom, he steeled his resolve. He would have to ignore her order; she’d need him after all. The thought terrified him but he would put his fear aside if her life was in jeopardy. His anxiety mounted while he crouched in the ditch prepared for the worst. Please, Aunt Heather, come out and say it’s all okay!
The tense silence was shattered when someone inside the house shouted, “Get the bitch Mateo!” and a single, ominous shot rang out. His muscles jerked from the unnaturally loud blast, his heart raced and pounded against his chest wall, and he stared at the house even more intently. Aunt Heather! Despite his terror and concern for her, he wondered why the man yelled his brother’s name. Could he be in there?
The sound of the shot had barely faded when he heard the heavy pounding of booted feet. Wide-eyed, he stared; it wasn’t Aunt Heather. Swarthy bikers poured out of the house and charged straight at him. Was his brother Mateo with them? Could he, should he fire at them before they were on him?
He had little time to decide. Wide-eyed, he tightened his hands around . . . nothing. Where was his rifle? What happened to it? He had to find it! It wasn’t on his lap where he’d cradled it all night and the man leading the charge was bearing down on him! Chad’s heart pounded and he gasped for breath as he flailed about searching frantically.
He jolted awake in a panic, still immersed in the nightmare. The dream was vivid, too vivid and held him tight. His consciousness didn’t register the fact he’d woken as he fumbled around in blind terror, trying in vain to locate the missing rifle. Instead of the firearm he grasped and pulled a human arm. His sister Alison mumbled in her sleep, jerked her arm free, and rolled away from the offending hand.
Wha . . . Alison, what are you . . . where . . . he thought. She shouldn’t be in the ditch with him. She should be in the root cellar. But . . . if they weren’t in the ditch . . . where were they?
Disoriented, he looked up and saw windows. The little amount of light managing to pass through the dirty panes did little to ease his confusion. It was all wrong . . . Aunt Heather, the ditch, the bikers . . . He focused harder and realized he was in his sleeping bag and warm, blissfully warm, not numb from cold as he’d been in the ditch. Looking around, he made out the lumps of his sleeping family and it all came back to him in a rush.
He wasn’t in the ditch and they weren’t at home. They’d fled their home the previous day, what was left of it anyway, evading the bikers who’d trashed it. Their destination had been Aunt Heather’s home in the boonies, but they didn’t find the safe haven they’d anticipated. Destruction and disorder were widespread.
Rather than the ditch or Aunt Heather’s house, he and his family were in a shed where they’d bedded down the previous evening. The building was on a ranch not far from Aunt Heather’s home. Her destroyed home, he amended. Jerry, a neighboring rancher had taken them in, fed them, and given them shelter in the out-building. Chad looked at the indistinct, sleeping forms near him and wiped the tears flooding his eyes.
His family, all together again; his seven-year-old twin sisters Alison and Brooke, Aunt Heather, and thank God, his parents, Dan and Lisa Smoke, made up those lumps. Chad’s breathing returned to normal as he looked at the lumps on the shed’s floor and focused on the two which were his parents. He sniffed and wiped at his eyes again. His mom and dad were with the rest of the family for the first time in weeks, for the first time since his dad had been quarantined for exposure to genetically engineered smallpox.
Despite his wiping, a tear slid down Chad’s face as he looked at them. After first his dad, and later his mom came down with the disease, he’d feared he’d never be so close to them again. In fact, he’d been certain they’d both die. The disease was fatal to all but a few who caught it, yet they’d managed to survive. Another tear slid down his face when he thought of his dad’s best friend, Matt. He hadn’t made it, dying in the Smoke Family’s shop while Dan helplessly watched. Chad brushed away more tears.
The virus they’d caught only resembled smallpox of the past, the disease that’d been eradicated decades earlier. It was a super-virus, a biological weapon developed by Russian scientists and released by Syrian sponsored terrorists at the Super Bowl. Due to the considerable exposure the game presented, the virus went global.
Chad’s parents moved into their shop when they became sick and left him to care for his sisters and everything else at their small farm. It was a huge job, considering he was only thirteen, and he’d been terrified most of the time. It’d been an immense relief when his mom’s younger sister Heather showed up to help. However, as is if the situation wasn’t bad enough, other events the night she arrived made everything monumentally worse.
The pandemic had crippled nations worldwide and it led to harsh retaliation by the United States against Syria for releasing the virus. Russia was not pleased. Their displeasure culminated on THAT DAY, when they’d done the unimaginable and unleashed their nuclear arsenal to destroy the United States. The United States responded in kind. The world as they’d known it ended That Day and the sky had been blanketed by thick gray clouds ever since as a constant reminder.
With society destroyed, much of the remaining population faced starvation. Nuclear winter and lack of fuel for crop production meant the situation would only get worse. No relief was coming.
Less scrupulous survivors saw the collapse and absence of order as an opportunity. One such group trashed the Smoke’s home, the family managing to escape following a harrowing shootout.
The memories flooded Chad’s mind. The weeks dreading his parents would die, the seemingly endless night in the ditch, the gun battle and dead bikers, and his relief at seeing his dad and Aunt Heather safe.
Though he tried to dismiss it from his mind, his thoughts returned to the shootout. What if . . . it . . . turned out . . . different? What if . . . Aunt Heather was slower? His breathing sped up again like he was back home, seeing the shootout with a different outcome. Stop it. It didn’t happen that way. Aunt Heather was quick enough. No, not quite. That one guy escaped. But she and Dad got us away and those guys never found us, he told himself. So it was quick enough. Barely.
But what about Mateo? Why was he in the dream? Chad asked himself. Was it because he’d been thinking about his half-brother the previous evening? Was it possible he’d turned into a parasite, preying on the weak? He couldn’t have . . . could he? Chad prayed he hadn’t.
After the shootout, the terrified family had endured an anxious trip to Aunt Heather’s home, only to find it had also been destroyed. Her neighbor, Jerry, accompanied by his sons Claude and Art were at the smoldering remains of the house and offered them a place to stay. Having no other options, the Smoke family accepted. They’d become refugees, sleeping on mats on the floor of a stranger’s shed.
Although his racing heart and rapid breathing had returned to normal, Chad knew he wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep. Not after reliving the previous day. He got out of his sleeping bag, careful not to disturb Alison again and dressed as quietly as he could. Before he stepped away, he pulled Alison’s sleeping bag up over her. She’d managed to half-extricate herself when she’d rolled away from him. Brooke didn’t need to be covered; she was no longer in the bag she’d started the night sharing with her sister. Instead, she was snuggled against their mother, the sleeping bag pulled tight to the girl’s chin. Both girls tended to get out of their covers at night and Chad guessed his mom had covered her recently.
He tiptoed to his coat where it hung on a nail and shrugged into it. A part of his wardrobe since the nukes, he belted on his holster and revolver. After picking up his shotgun, he slipped outside.
Heather’s mouth curled in a resigned smile as he left. She got up, dressed, and followed after him. She was having a hard time sleeping as well. Outside, she didn’t need to look for him. He was near the door, blowing on a steaming mug.
“What do you mean, getting up so early? I could have used more shut-eye, but no, you had to go and disturb me,” she said.
He missed the joking tone in her voice. “Sorry, but I woke up and remembered everything that happened yesterday. I didn’t think I’d be able to get back to sleep.”
“I know what you mean. It’s hard to shut your mind down at times. So, what’s in the cup and where’d you get it?” Aunt Heather asked.
“It’s tea.” He sipped from the mug and took a couple steps so she could see, and pointed to a small table behind him. Two thermoses and five mugs were on it. “I’m guessing Jerry set it out for us. The thermos on the right has coffee.” He made a sour face at her. “I still don’t know how you drink the stuff. It’s nasty.”
“I have to admit, it’s an acquired taste, but I’m glad Jerry has it and is willing to share. We’ll have to thank him when we see him.” She poured a mug full, steam dissipating into the chilly air. She grimaced at the absence of cream and sugar but sipped from her cup anyway. “Yeah, it’s harsh. This reminds me of stories of cowboy coffee,” she said.
“Cowboy coffee?” Chad asked.
“Yeah, strong enough to float a horseshoe. But when you need coffee bad enough, well, any coffee will do.”
Chad rolled his eyes and said, “So Jerry,” he said and pointed to the pen behind the large barn. “He’s feeding the stock.” He took another sip from his mug while he considered what he wanted to say. “So . . . how well do you know him? Are you sure we’re going to be all right here?”
Heather sipped and relished the hot, strong flavor. “Are you sure you’re only twelve?”
His answer was an eye roll and Heather chuckled at his standard response for her indicating he was younger than he was. She knew full well he was thirteen.
“Well,” she said, “With my work, I ran into him on occasion but never spent a lot of time around him. Still, I think he’s a perfect complement for this country: he’s harsh, yet caring, dangerous, yet peaceful. I believe if you treat him right he’ll be your trusted friend and support you. And I believe if you cross him, you’ll regret it. I don’t know if that answers your question, but I think he’s a good guy and we can trust him.”
“Well, we had to go somewhere, and so far he’s better than anyone else we’ve been around recently,” Chad said. “And Aunt Heather, I’m really sorry about your friends and your house.”
Heather grimaced. Her friends had been killed when her home was razed. “Thanks, Buddy, now don’t get me all weepy again. Kate and Rudy were good people. The house, well, it was only a house.”
Chad didn’t respond. Maybe hers was only a house, but his family’s house was so much more. It was home; the only home he and his sisters had ever known. It was full of lifetimes’ worth of memories and now it was gone. Only the memories remained and they were certain to fade. They’d lost much more than a house.
He took another sip of his tea and stared into the mug. “Let’s go help Jerry feed those cows. It sounds like we don’t want him mad at us. We sure don’t want him to evict us for being slackers and throwing us out with all the people who are starving.”
She took a drink and set her mug down. “You know you could act like an irresponsible city kid until I finish this.”
Chad shrugged, and after another look at the rancher feeding the cattle, he left his shotgun where it leaned against the wall and he and his aunt fell into step together.
|
|
|
Post by CountryGuy on Jul 10, 2022 16:53:04 GMT -6
Love'n it!
|
|
|
Post by bretf on Jul 11, 2022 6:46:10 GMT -6
Chapter 2
Chad looked around the strange surroundings as he and Aunt Heather walked to offer their assistance to Jerry. Home had never felt farther away. Although circumstances had changed drastically, he couldn’t help but miss it, to long for its loss. It was unlikely they’d ever see it again. “Do you think we should’ve tried to keep our house?” he asked.
“You know, I’ve asked myself the same thing since finding what was left of my place,” she said. “But no . . . even if we’d have known what happened to it, I still don’t think we should’ve fought those gomers; there were just too many. I think if we’d done anything other than what we did, we wouldn’t have all made it out in one piece.” Her voice got soft to the point Chad had to strain to hear. “If we would’ve made it out at all.”
Silence hung between them as they walked.
After several feet, Heather continued, “I suppose everyone is different, but I know the first time I put my gunsights on a living, breathing person, and he was shooting at me mind you, it took all I had to squeeze the trigger. I still hate to take a life even when they deserve it. I’m glad you didn’t have to make that decision, and if I can help it, you never will.”
They were near the fence securing the cattle, so she didn’t say more about it. Instead, she greeted their host. “Hey Jerry, good morning. Thanks for the coffee and tea. So what can we do to help you?” she asked.
“Getting a few more bales of hay to this hungry bunch is a good place to start,” Jerry said. The grizzled rancher had seen more than seventy years yet handled the hay bales with ease. Chad and Heather joined him spreading feed for the cattle.
When they were finished, Jerry said, “Thanks, I appreciate the help. So Red,” he always referred to Heather in that manner, referencing her flowing mane of red hair. “I could use your knowledge on another matter. I ain't got any idea what you did, but I know you were in the army. So I’d like to get your thoughts on our defenses. I’m sure you saw the gate we put across the road since you were here last.”
Heather nodded and asked, “Have you had trouble?”
“No, we haven’t but I think it’s only a matter of time. There have been scattered problems with refugees and scavengers, and it’s been getting worse lately.
“The first wave of people through here when all the crap started wasn’t too bad. They were survivalist nuts, just passin’ through headed for the backcountry. I spoke to a few of ‘em out of curiosity. They said they were going into the wilderness to live off the land. Can you believe they thought they could do that? I pity the idiots once real winter hits, especially on top of this nuclear winter. I don’t know if it’ll change the weather patterns any, but I figure they’ll get snowed in and starve to death.” The man had spent his entire life in the rugged area and shook his head thinking of the foolishness of it.
“But you think things are getting worse?” Heather asked.
“Yup, like what happened at your place. The next wave of people were predators. They look for lone homes and raid them. Once they finish with those, I’m sure they’ll look at our place. So we’ve been doing what we can think of prepping for that day. Let’s go for a walk and you can look over what we’ve done so far,” Jerry said.
“Alright, but to tell you the truth, I’m not sure I can offer you much. I feel shell-shocked after yesterday. At least let me get my coffee. This guy wouldn’t let me finish it before he insisted we help you,” she said and flashed Chad a wry look. “Maybe the caffeine will help.”
“Should we get our rifles?” Chad asked. “At home, we took a rifle or shotgun with us everywhere.”
“That’s a healthy habit to have nowadays,” Jerry said. “Yeah, why don’t you grab ‘em.”
As they walked, Jerry explained what they’d done.
His family and the neighboring ranchers had worked together and put in the heavy steel gate across the road. They ran barbed wire from the nearby fences to the new gate and backed the wire up with boulders. Further back, they’d set up bunkers on each side of the road. The bunkers were manned on a rotation with two people always on watch in four-hour shifts.
“That’s good thinking Jerry. It all looks good to me . . . I only wish my house would’ve been back here, too,” Heather said as she looked it over and brushed at her eyes with the back of her hand.
“So do I, Red,” Jerry said. “Lord knows, so do I.”
After an uncomfortable silence, Jerry said, “So we’d welcome any suggestions you have to boost security.”
Heather gazed across the fields on each side of the road. “This is good if someone comes in by the road. But what about out there?” she asked and made a sweeping gesture. “If they come in on foot.”
Jerry’s face paled as he contemplated the ramifications.
“Do you have any way of watching over the rest of it?” Heather asked.
“No, we’ve concentrated on the road up to this point,” Jerry said.
Heather continued to scan the area and stopped when she saw Jerry’s barn towering over the ranch yard behind them. “Could we build a crow’s nest on top of your barn and have it manned with someone watching in all directions?”
Jerry looked and said, “Yeah, we can do that. That’s a good idea.”
“But it’ll only be effective in the daytime unless you have night vision gear,” Heather said.
Jerry shook his head indicating they didn’t.
“Okay,” Heather continued. “Do you have empty cans lying around and fishing line?”
“We do, but what do we need them for?” Jerry asked.
Heather said, “Short of having motion detectors, we make poor man alarms. We string fishing line close to the ground, but high enough for someone to trip on and have a bunch of cans hooked to it in hidden places. If someone runs into the line, the cans rattle together.”
Jerry was thoughtful before he said, “I see how it’ll work. Those are good suggestions. Anything else?”
“Not at the moment, but I’ll keep it in my mind to watch for anything else that’ll help,” Heather said.
“Alright,” Jerry said, “And in the meantime, while you’re with us, I want to add you two to the watch rotation. I expect we’ll be seeing more predators like the ones that wrecked your place. I also expect we’ll see good people in need of help. Those, we’ll do what we can for like we are for you. But the others, well, we need to be ready for them. So do you think you two can do four-hour shifts out here?”
Heather and Chad looked at each other and nodded. Heather said, “Yeah, we can both do it, but do you think we could be on at the same time for a while? It would definitely make me feel better.”
Chad was glad Aunt Heather offered. He wasn’t thrilled with the idea of spending four hours on watch with a complete stranger as the only other person nearby.
“We can arrange that,” Jerry said. “How about Dan and Lisa? Would they be able to do it?”
Heather considered a few moments and then said, “First of all, I don’t know how much stamina they’ll have. As I told you, they only came out of quarantine yesterday. The plague hit them hard. Dan was running on fumes yesterday. Aside from that, I don’t think Lisa would be a good guard if she was alone; she should be with someone. I know she’s fired a gun a few times, but I’m not sure she would react quick enough if she was on her own.”
“But Dan,” she continued. “Well, yesterday, I couldn’t believe how calm he was in a crunch. I told you we had difficulties before we got away from his place.” She glanced at Chad and then described the encounter with the bikers. “I’d have been spraying lead. So, yes; I think Dan would be a good asset here when he’s up to it.”
Jerry nodded in agreement.
“So on the subject of watch,” Heather said, “I don’t know how you guys are armed, but we liberated two AK47s from the gomers who attacked Dan’s place. If they’re any good, they might be handy to have if we’re confronted. I’d like to clean and test them so I know what we have. Do you have someplace we can shoot?”
“Yeah, we’ve got a place. I’ll have Claude show you,” Jerry said. He grinned like he knew a joke and planned to drag it out before he delivered the punchline.
“One problem though, we didn’t get much ammo with them,” Heather said.
Jerry continued to grin and said, “Then I reckon you’ll have to go easy with them. Let’s head back.”
Dan was outside the shed drinking a cup of coffee when the three returned. “Morning Dan,” Jerry greeted. “I know the accommodations aren’t five-star, but I hope you were able to get some good rest.”
“It was fine,” Dan said. “I just appreciate a safe place indoors after yesterday.”
Chad studied him and thought he should still be sleeping. He looked like he’d had a rough night.
“We’re going to clean those rifles we got from the bikers and test them,” Heather said. “I think Chad’s anxious to try them out. He hasn’t said as much, but he sure perked up when I mentioned them. Now, why don’t you go get them Buddy, and be careful you don’t shoot yourself.” She received an eye roll for an answer.
“I better send Claude over if you’re doin’ that now,” Jerry said, and walked away, the silly grin on his creased face.
Heather carried a pair of chairs out of the shed while Chad got the rifles. She sat and after he handed her one began to tell him what she knew about it. “The Avtomat Kalashnikova, or translating from Russian, Kalashnikov’s Automatic Rifle, or “AK” for short. This is the most common battle rifle used in the world. It’s responsible for a staggering amount of death over the last sixty or seventy years. As far as battle rifles go, they’re cheap, rugged, and dependable.”
“Excuse me,” Claude said walking up. “Dad said you had something to show me.” When he saw what Heather held, his eyes got big and his face split in a wide smile. “No way! You’ve got an AK47!”
Heather looked up and said, “Actually we’ve got two. We liberated them from some gomers. I’m going to walk Chad through them, clean them, and see about shooting them. But what’s so special about them? Every two-bit militiaman in the sandbox and Afghanistan has one or two.”
“Well, I always wanted one but couldn’t justify the cost. The family always needed other things more than I needed another gun. Plus, I wanted to compare one to my SKS,” Claude said.
Heather looked at him in wonder. “What? No wonder your dad acted like he did when we mentioned the AK’s. So how are you set up for ammo?”
Chad wasn’t sure what to make of either of them. “Okay, you guys, what gives? You’re acting like the girls in a toy store.” He was used to the pump shotguns and bolt action rifles he and his dad used for hunting and had very little exposure to other rifles.
Ignoring Chad, Claude said, “Yep, I’ve got one. . . And I have two cases of ammo for it.” He and Heather smiled wide at each other.
“Hello; Aunt Heather, Claude. Would one of you mind explaining what you’re talking about? In English, please? And what on earth is an SKS?” Chad asked.
“Okay, Chad, I’ll tell you. But let me explain a little to Claude first and then you’ll see how this all fits together,” Heather said. “So Claude, the guys we ran into yesterday were carrying these. They didn’t need them anymore. They each had the magazines in the rifle and a spare in their pockets. One managed to waste half a mag when he died. That’s all the ammo we’ve got so it limits their effectiveness for us.
“Now Chad, the SKS. It’s another battle rifle which happens to use the same ammo used by . . .” She didn’t say it but held the AK up for emphasis.
Chad got a big smile as understanding came to him and she smiled in return.
Heather looked back at Claude. “You wouldn’t happen to have ammo for a .45 pistol too, would you?”
“Naw, I’ve got a 44 magnum. Why, did you “acquire” one of those too?” Claude asked, punctuating the question with air quotes.
“Yeah, one of the gomers had one. And like the rifles, we only have one spare mag. I haven’t checked yet to see if they’re full or not.”
Jerry watched the interaction, the grin still on his face. “All right now, you kids. Don’t play with your toys for too long. We’re gonna butcher a steer later today,” he said. “Now I’ve got things to do.” He walked away, still grinning.
Heather led Chad, Dan, and Claude through cleaning the rifles and gave them a tutorial on how they worked. They paid rapt attention, although Claude looked like he wanted to forgo the steps and get straight to shooting. When the three knew as much about the guns as Heather, she asked Claude if he would mind providing ammo to test fire the rifles. He nearly skipped as he went to the house for several boxes, and then led the way to a dirt mound.
The four of took turns with each rifle. Heather was pleased with the results, Claude had a huge smile, and Chad was wide-eyed.
“It’s nothing like my rifle, but it’s sure a neat gun,” Chad said after firing a three round burst.
After firing the second rifle a couple of times, Dan shrugged and handed it back to Heather.
Chad said, “You better practice more. You might need the extra firepower.”
“He’s got a point, Dan,” Heather said.
Dan’s face tightened and he said, “My rifle is fine. I’m familiar with it and most of the time I hit where I aim.” His shots with the AK hadn’t landed anywhere near where he was trying to hit.
“You sure?” Heather asked. “If we have trouble, one of these will give you a big advantage.”
“Not if I miss what I aim at. Did you watch when I shot? If I used one of these, I’d just be making a lot of noise and wasting ammo. Besides, they don’t seem to have made a difference for those bast . . .” Dan stopped himself and glanced at his son before continuing, “The scum we took them from. So no, I’ve used my rifle so much, I know it. It won’t let me down,” Dan stated.
Heather studied him for a few moments and then nodded.
“So what do you think, Claude? Do you like these rifles?” she asked.
“Like them? Man, I love ‘em!”
“What would you say to trading for one? You have a lot of ammo we’re short of and it appears we have an extra rifle. What do you think?” Heather asked.
“Serious? How much ammo are you thinking?”
“Would you consider half a case? That’d leave you with a case and a half for two rifles,” Heather said.
“Deal!” Claude’s face was split by a huge smile.
Chad watched the exchange, torn. Those were neat rifles and Aunt Heather had just given one away. Granted, they needed the ammo, bad, but that left them with only one. He’d hoped she’d let him have one. His face fell with disappointment.
“So Dan, are you sure you don’t want the other one?” Heather asked, her eyes twinkling from Chad’s reaction. “Because if you don’t, I don’t know, we might have to let Chad have it. I’d hate to see him shoot himself in the foot. Are you certain?” she said with a grin.
Chad wasn’t sure he’d heard right. “Really, Aunt Heather?” he asked with awe in his voice, not giving his dad a chance to answer.
“Yeah Buddy, really,” she said.
“Wow!” was all the answer he could utter.
“However,” Heather said, all humor gone. “That rifle is pretty big for you. You’ll have to practice with it as much as time allows, but without using up all your ammo. All your chores have made you pretty tough for your age, but you still have work to do. All right?”
Chad smiled and said, “Sure I’ll practice with it.”
#
It was past noon by the time they finished shooting, and Jerry was ready for help with the steer he’d singled out to butcher.
They joined him near the barn and Chad asked, “Uh Jerry, can you answer a question for me, please?”
The rancher shrugged and said, “Well, I’ll try.”
“Well, uh, a couple of weeks ago Aunt Heather and I were wondering if it’s safe to eat meat. I mean with the fallout, you know. We both got sick from too much time outside, so will we get more exposure by eating meat from a cow that’s been in it?”
“It’s a good thing I said I’d try to answer your question, Chad, because the truth of the matter is, I don’t know. I suppose it depends on who you talk to,” Jerry said. “And if you talk to enough people, you’ll be more confused than ever.”
“What do you mean?” Chad asked.
“Well if you ask the FDA, the Food and Drug Administration,” Jerry began, and then amended it. “Well you can’t ask them now, but anyway, before all this crap started, they decided radiation in our food was a good thing.”
“What?” Heather asked.
“You didn’t know that? The FDA approved irradiation of food years ago. If you’ve bought food in a grocery store, you’ve been eating radiation. They allow it on meat, seafood, fruits and vegetables, heck you name it, it most likely had it,” Jerry said.
“But . . . but, why?” Chad asked.
“Well to keep us all safe and healthy, of course. They said it extends the shelf life of food products and eliminates microorganisms and insects. They claimed there was nothing to worry about, you just needed to clean and cook the food before you ate it. So you’ve most likely been eating radiation-laced food for years.”
Jerry turned and started to go into the barn, stopped, and turned back to the group. “But I do know one thing for certain. And that is, even if the meat passes on radiation, it beats the heck out of starving to death. Meat on the hoof is the one thing we have in abundance.” Jerry turned and continued into the barn.
Chad recalled the man who’d stolen their cows and gulped at hearing much the same thing from Jerry. “Wow Dad, I’m glad we raised most of our food,” he said.
“Yeah, it gives new meaning to the term “junk food”, doesn’t it,” Heather added.
“You know,” Dan said, “The FDA reminds of the snake, Kaa, in Disney’s “The Jungle Book” movie. Remember how he sang “trust me” to Mowgli while he coiled tighter and tighter around the boy. Trust me indeed.”
#
Butchering the steer turned out to be hard, messy work.
“Well, Chad, I guess you were right,” Heather said at one point.
“I know it,” he grinned at her. “But which time do you mean?” he asked.
“Whatever. Anyway, back at your place, you said butchering a cow was a huge job and the two of us would be hard pressed to do it alone. Without the right set-up, which we didn’t have, I’m not sure we could’ve pulled it off.”
Chad flashed her a “told you so” smirk.
When the beef was quartered and hanging in a secure building, everyone cleaned up and went to the house for dinner. Although the table had been lengthened to its full size, it didn’t accommodate everyone. When the pandemic struck, Jerry’s grown children had returned with their families. The house was packed. Each of Chad’s parents shared a seat with one of the twins. Stools at the counters were occupied by Jerry’s grandkids. The room buzzed with conversation, Claude the loudest as he recounted the trade for the rifle over and over, and let everyone know how impressed he was with the AK.
Jerry had his regular seat at the head of the extended table. He cleared his throat and addressed the group, starting with his son. “Claude, if you please.” When it was quiet, he said, “Now that we’ve got meat for a while, tomorrow we’re going after firewood. We won’t be getting any more propane deliveries and we’ll need fuel; a lot of fuel. I want to get it in before more people are crawling around in those hills. It can only get more dangerous.” He took a bite and chewed, letting everyone consider the idea.
“Sounds good, Dad. Who’ll go and who’ll stay?” Art asked.
“I want every able-bodied person and I mean EVERYBODY, on it so we can get loaded and back as soon as possible. I talked to Ralph and Ted a while ago.” Jerry said, naming the neighboring ranchers. “Their groups will come along as well.”
“I wondered where you disappeared to before we were done with the meat,” Art said.
“You didn’t need me looking over your shoulder while you finished. So Ralph will leave his two oldest to watch and we’ll leave two. Dan, Lisa, I’d like it if you were the two.”
Dan’s brow wrinkled while he considered the request. “We’re grateful for you taking us in Jerry and I always welcome private time with my wife, but I’m not sure we’re the best people for the job. Maybe someone else could stay; we’d be happy to help with firewood.”
“Dan, I’m sure you’d prefer cutting wood, I know I sure would. But we need to leave guards. After stewing on it all afternoon, I decided on you. Red told me you’re calm in a crisis. Besides, I can see the pox left you weak as a new-born kitten. You need time for your body to get back on track, Lisa too. The day I’ve got planned is gonna be hard work. I don’t doubt your determination, but I don’t know that you two would hold up to it.”
“Yes, but—”
“But nothing,” Jerry interrupted. “Let me tell you about Ralph’s kids. His oldest, Jim, spent eight years in the National Guard. The other one, Joe, was always trying to outdo him, so he did twenty years. You’ll be with good men and if anything comes up, you’re their backup support and Lisa is yours.”
“I’d rather cut wood but I understand your reasoning,” Dan said.
When the meal was finished, Dan and his family were shooed away from the kitchen, despite offers to help clean up. At Jerry’s urging, they left the house to go to their beds.
“Dan, are you up to keeping watch tomorrow and dealing with any problems?” Heather asked. “I can talk to Jerry if you’re uncomfortable with it.”
“No, I’ll be fine. I just feel like the wood crew will accomplish something while I spend the day on my backside. I don’t like to sit around while other people work,” he said.
“Well, why don’t you keep Chad’s new rifle at least. The AK is a more formidable weapon,” she said.
“Maybe in the right person’s hands but I’m not that person. I’ll stick with what I know.”
“All right, it’s your choice,” she said. “And I hope it’s the right one.”
Lisa and the twins turned onto the short path to the outhouse. Chad followed along. “Chad, it looks like you’ve got the girls tomorrow. Keep a close eye on them,” she said. “I hate to be separated from you guys so soon, but Jerry’s right. The girls can do more than I can now.”
“Sure Mom, I will, but you need to keep an eye on Dad too. Aunt Heather told me how soldiers can get after a battle. He hasn’t been himself since we left home.”
|
|
|
Post by bretf on Jul 17, 2022 8:23:18 GMT -6
Chapter 3
The line of trucks, trailers, and pickups pulled out of the ranch yard soon after dawn. Jerry had every vehicle capable of hauling a load lined up, including the cattle truck and horse trailer. Over breakfast, he’d outlined his plan. They’d drive to a stand of dead trees he knew of, cut them into the longest lengths they could handle, load, and get back home as fast as possible. The logs would be cut to stove length at the respective ranches. For his home’s use, Jerry had a cross-cut saw, an old family heirloom which would be used in order to save fuel.
Dan and Lisa rode with the wood crew to the gate and traded places with Claude. He’d had the last watch shift and cradled his new rifle like a proud father as he showed Dan the bunker. The ground had been excavated with a backhoe, with entrance steps cut into the soil on the backside. A beam and metal panel roof spanned the hole and was covered with dirt. Large rocks were arranged in front, leaving firing windows. A canvas curtain hung across the entrance. Two lawn chairs and a small table made up the furniture. A brazier and a pile of wood and dried cow patties were set up in the center. The brazier glowed red, keeping the temperature warmer than the outside.
The accommodations weren’t on the same scale as Dan’s recliner and couch had been, but it wouldn’t be too bad. Lisa leaned Chad’s shotgun against the wall, set the thermos of coffee on the table and a bag with a snack near the shotgun. Along with his hunting rifle, Dan had his revolver. Heather had returned it to him after deciding although short on ammo, she’d prefer the biker’s pistol.
Dan dropped a cow patty on the brazier and they watched out the slits as the last truck in the line disappeared from view. Dust plumed into the air behind the convoy, and soon, it disappeared as well.
They settled into the chairs where they could see the road and Lisa reached across and took Dan’s hand. His hand, always hard and callused from work had become softer from the month of inactivity than she could ever remember. “Do you need to sleep, Babe? You were restless again last night.”
“I’m all right for now, but I might need a little shut-eye later. Thanks, Sweetheart.” Dan said and gave her hand a soft squeeze.
“You know, Chad and Heather are worried about you. She thinks you might be suffering post-traumatic stress after you . . . you . . . shot that man,” Lisa said.
“Man? That wasn’t a man! You saw what they did to our house and the other houses we passed. That was no man,” Dan said with a snort. “That was a crazed beast who needed put down. Maybe I should, but I don’t regret eliminating him, not one iota. My only regret is the rest of his rabid pack are still alive to terrorize innocent people. Just think what would’ve happened if that bunch had gotten their hands on Heather, you, and the kids. No, the whole bunch needs to be eliminated and I don’t regret the one I did, not one bit.
“But . . . it made me think even more about something that’s been troubling me. I came close to dying of the smallpox and could’ve died again yesterday and the night when those animals showed up. What if they’d have found where we were hiding? And what if I’d have been the closest one when those three came? I’d have been killed, plain and simple. I couldn’t do what Heather did. And the more I dwell on it, the more I think about Mateo. And it’s ripping me apart inside to consider I might die without ever meeting my own son.”
Mateo was Dan’s illegitimate son. Dan was a teen when he’d fathered him, and hadn’t known of his existence until years after his birth. After time to mature and accept the fact, he’d spent countless hours, days, months, years trying to locate him. Recently, they’d found he’d gotten out of the army and lived near the small town of Hamilton. Prior to the pandemic and nuclear exchange, Hamilton was a few hours’ drive from their home. It was impossible to know how long a journey it would require under current conditions. They’d planned on searching for him the very day Dan was quarantined for smallpox exposure.
Dan continued to speak, “I don’t think our place was an isolated occurrence. It couldn’t have been. I think chaos is everywhere now. Consider those destroyed homes we passed. Or Heather’s house. Where we are right now. We live in a violent world, and all I can think of is I have a son I may never lay eyes on. I can’t get him off my mind or get past the fact I could be killed any day and never meet him. I’ve had more brushes with death in the past couple of weeks than I could imagine. And maybe my luck runs out next time.”
Lisa didn’t respond. She knew he had more to add and gave him time to gather his thoughts. He was silent for several minutes before saying, “I can’t get my head clear. Maybe it’s too late; maybe he got the pox and didn’t make it.”
Lisa squeezed his hand tighter. “We’ll just have to pray it will work out and ask for guidance,” she said. A deep silence settled over the bunker as they stared down the empty road.
#
The woodcutters worked hard and efficiently through the day. Their motions displayed urgency, all wanting to get home as soon as possible. Though they conversed and visited together, breaks were short and the trucks and trailers were loaded to capacity with little-wasted effort.
Chad’s shoulders drooped and his feet dragged when he herded the girls to Jerry’s truck. In his weary state, the worn, lumpy truck seat was one of the most incredible comforts he could remember. His new rifle rested between his legs, no longer as fascinating as it’d been on the trip from the ranch. He hoped his parents’ day had been uneventful and they were able to rest. It was his last thought before he joined his sisters in sleep.
Chad awoke with a start when Jerry stopped the truck at the gate. It took him a moment to gain his bearings. When he did, he said, “Wow, sorry Jerry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
“That’s all right, Chad, you earned it. You and your sisters worked hard today. I’d have been surprised if you hadn’t slept.” Jerry started the truck forward through the open gate.
Chad looked at the bunker where his parents were supposed to be, hoping to see them, wanting confirmation their day had passed safely. The bunker construction had been done well and he was disappointed not to see movement through the rocks. What’s it mean? Did something happen? Where are they? His anxiety was short lived. His dad emerged from the back of the bunker and waved, his mom close behind.
Jerry stopped the truck near Dan and Lisa’s location. “How’d the day go Dan? Have any problems?”
“No, no problems. It was quiet all day. We didn’t see a soul until now.”
“That’s the best kind of day. Now, if you’ll hang tough for a while longer, we’ll get your relief fed before they take your place,” Jerry said.
“That’s fine, there’s no need to rush. You all worked hard while we sat around. So how’d the kids do? I hope they weren’t a burden.”
“They’re good workers, in fact, they tuckered themselves all out. Your girls are still sleeping. They’ll be glad to see you when you’re relieved.” The truck moved forward ending the brief conversation.
Jerry stopped the truck in the ranch yard near the farm equipment. “Well, I guess this is as good a place as any to unload,” he said.
“Uh, Jerry . . . just a minute, please. I’m not sure how much room you have in your barn, but I was thinking. If there is room, it might be better for us to saw the wood inside. I mean, well, Aunt Heather and I both got sick from radiation after we spent too much time outside. So the barn could help protect everyone while they’re working. Besides, the sawdust would be good on the floor.”
Jerry looked at Chad without commenting while he considered the idea. It was sound reasoning.
“That is if there’s room,” Chad said, softly.
“That’s a good idea, Chad. We pack as many cows as we can inside each night to give them a bit of shelter from the radiation, but we can make space to saw and split the firewood. We’ll dump these loads near the door where it’ll be easy to move. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders.” Jerry started the engine and moved the truck to the front of the barn before shutting it off again.
|
|
|
Post by bretf on Jul 17, 2022 8:25:51 GMT -6
Chapter 4
In the following days, Chad impressed the rancher with his willingness, determination, and hard work. He took his turn along with everyone else on the cross-cut saw, pulled guard duty with Aunt Heather or Claude, and did every chore Jerry asked of him, as well as finding additional chores he wasn’t asked to do.
Each day he was able to last a little longer pulling his end of the saw. Aunt Heather also made sure he spent time every day with his new rifle. He developed familiarity and gained accuracy and confidence with each session.
She insisted he be familiar with every gun in their possession and taught him all about her new pistol. On one occasion she had him try it out. He shot twice in rapid succession and said, “Okay, I’ll stick with the .22 but I see why you like it.”
Dan and Lisa did what they could to help as they regained strength. They were fueled by the high protein diet as Jerry’s wife kept them stuffed with fresh meat. The Smokes contributed with the food they’d brought from their root cellar, but beef was the main ingredient at every meal. The custom of three meals per day had been scrapped in order to help stretch the food supply. Good food, coupled with lots of rest, allowed them to grow stronger each day.
It would have been better if Dan’s rest wasn’t troubled. His dreams woke him most nights. He tried his best not to bother Lisa when he was jolted from sleep but he wasn’t always successful.
As the days turned into a week, and then a second week, the family members were able to relax, the haunted look they’d had when they arrived disappearing. On all but Dan; he looked more troubled with each passing day.
#
Dan shot up in the makeshift bed, his breathing fast and hard as if he’d been running. He looked sightlessly into the dark room. His sudden movements woke Lisa and she put a comforting hand on his back and whispered, “Are you alright Babe?”
Trying to keep his voice soft, Dan said, “I . . . I can’t take it anymore. I’ve got to try to find him.”
“What?” Lisa snapped, the word loud in the silent room. “Dan,” she got out before he shushed her. Heather rustled in her sleeping bag, making Lisa regret the outburst. At least Chad wasn’t disturbed. But he was on watch with Claude, she recalled. The feeling of dread she always felt when he was out in the night came back, magnified by Dan’s statement. “Dan,” she repeated, quieter.
Again, he shushed her. “We’ll discuss it after it gets light. I don’t want to wake everyone.” More sounds of movement came from Heather’s bag.
Lisa lay back with her eyes wide open. His statements rang in her mind. She was unable to dismiss them and sleep evaded her. What if I was in his shoes? What would I do?
With the first light of morning showing through the window, Lisa got out of her sleeping bag. Dan was beside her in moments and they dressed without a word. Despite her attempts to be quiet, Lisa was sure Heather monitored every movement. They pulled their coats on and slipped outside. Dan took her hand and held it as he led the way to the barn.
Once in the barn, Dan went to the back side of the growing woodpile. He placed two rounds of wood on their ends close together and took Lisa’s hands. He directed her to a block and sat on the other facing her, still holding her hands. Little light filtered into the barn; it was difficult to make out her facial expressions, but he wanted the privacy.
“Sweetheart, I ̶ ” he began.
She cut him off with a finger on his lips. “No, Babe; let me start. I’ve been praying over this the past couple of weeks, and I . . . I’ve spent the last few hours thinking. I know it’s important for you to find him. So . . . I want to support you in this, but,” she sniffed and swiped at her nose with the back of her hand before she continued. “Dan, whatever you want to do, we have to decide together and do it together. We can’t let it divide us.”
“I have to go find him. I have this feeling of impending doom and if I don’t do it now, I’ll never be able to; something else will happen. And if I don’t at least try, it’ll eat me up,” Dan said. “We know he’s somewhere in the vicinity of Hamilton. That’s not too far. In good times, it was only three to four hours away. So judging by our trip here, it should be easy to get there in a day. One more day to locate him and another day to spend with him, and one day back. So I should be back after four days, easy.”
“Easy, huh?” Lisa said. “Good, because like I said, whatever we do, we do together. Since it’ll be so easy, there’s no reason we can’t all go. You know, you’re not the only one who wants to meet him.”
“You guys can’t go; it’s not safe for you,” Dan said.
Lisa fixed him with a stare. It was obvious even in the dim light. “So, it’s not safe for us, but if you go alone, it’ll be an easy trip. Which is it?”
“Okay, that was a poor choice of words,” Dan said. “It’s not safe now, but I know I can make it there and back easier if I’m alone. And all of you will be fine here with Jerry. I mentioned to him I might need to leave. He said everyone could stay, no problem.”
It was light enough for him to make out her intense look and defiant posture. “Lisa, I . . .” he stammered. The air was cool, but he felt sweat as he brushed the hair away from his forehead.
“Dan, this stuff, the smallpox, and the bombs, it’s separated our family too much. I’m done with it. I hardly know our son anymore. We’re finally together and you want to run off alone. I won’t stand for it. I won’t become a widow without knowing how or when it happened. I refuse to be left always wondering when you never return.” In a less defiant tone she added, “Besides, as I just told you, you aren’t the only member of the family who wants to meet him. We all do.” The determined look faded and her eyes filled with moisture. “If you insist on going, we go as a family.”
Before Dan could respond, Brooke and Alison ran around the pile of firewood. “Where are we going, Mom?” Brooke asked.
“Are we going to go find our brother?” Alison added.
Dan groaned. Before he could answer, Heather and Chad walked around the woodpile.
“Sorry,” Heather said, “They slipped out of the shed while I was in the outhouse. Chad just got back, so we followed them. We weren’t eavesdropping, but since we’re here, well, we all need to hear the answers to the girls’ questions.”
“Did anyone bring anything to drink?” Dan asked. He accepted the water bottle Heather held out to him and drank. Heather and Chad moved blocks of wood, sat on them, and each pulled a twin onto their laps. The water did little to settle Dan’s stomach.
Chad asked, “So, when are we leaving?”
#
Jerry was outside the barn door holding the wheelbarrow handles when the family finished their discussion. “So how’d that work out for you Dan?” He had a “told you so” look on his face.
“Well Jerry, although we appreciate your hospitality very much, we’ll be leaving in the morning. We’ll repack everything we can today and leave pretty early. If you’ll have us, we’d like to come back. I’m guessing we shouldn’t be gone more than a week.”
Uh huh, Jerry thought, Famous last words. Out loud, he said, “Of course you’re all welcome. You go find what you’re looking for, and then get back here. Do you have enough gas to make it back?”
“No, I’m going to have to find some,” Dan said.
“I see,” Jerry said. “Well then, you better fill up from my bulk tank. And I guess it’s a good thing we’ve got a bunch of dried meat ready that you can take along with you.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Dan said. “You’ve already done enough for us. We’ll manage.”
“I know I don’t have to; I want to. I don’t HAVE to do anything, well except what my wife tells me to do. And right now, I’ve got to get her a wheelbarrow load of firewood up to the house.”
He pushed the wheelbarrow past Dan into the barn. Chad followed and began to load split wood into the wheelbarrow as soon as Jerry rested its legs on the ground. Jerry stood in place a few moments watching the young man work and wondered about Dan’s decision to go out. It seemed rather foolhardy to put his family in danger. I hope whatever he’s looking for is worth it.
#
Dan’s pickup was still mostly loaded from when they’d fled their home, but it’d all been thrown together in a rush and needed to be rearranged. They repacked everything and made sure the load was set to travel, including a spot for Chad to sit so he could keep watch for anyone approaching from behind. The tank was filled with gas and everything was ready except for their sleeping bags, which would be packed in the morning.
While he was filling the gas tank, Jerry pointed at the roof of his house and said, “I suppose you’ve seen the solar panels?”
“I did. I figured that was where you were getting power for the lights,” Dan said.
“The lights yes, but it also powers a shortwave radio. I’ve been talking to a few guys I know scattered around and asked what they know of the roads. One guy is on the hill above Johnsonville. He says the bridge is clear and the highway is open. You won’t have to cross the river on the old dam this time.”
“That’s great, thank you, Jerry,” Dan said.
“But the next part isn’t so great. Farther out, things are wild. Thirty or so miles north of town, folks disappear. It doesn’t sound like the highway is the way to go.
“So I talked to another fella north of where you folks lived. Do you know the Old Quarry Road? It’s a gravel road that winds up through the hills and passes Lake Roosevelt on the east end. There’re a few scattered ranches that way, but only a few people know of the road and that it ties back into the highway at Hamilton. So anyway, the fella I talked to lives up it a ways and he told me he’s seen a few people traveling through in each direction. He thinks it’s safe to use.
“Also, he talked to another fella right outside of Hamilton. He said he hasn’t heard of any problems in that direction, but he hasn’t heard of your boy, either. Figures if he’s in the area, he’s kept a low profile.
“Here, look at this.” Jerry spread a map out on the hood of the pickup. He traced a route with his finger while Dan watched closely. Heather and Chad stood close as well, the three of them familiarizing themselves with the roads Jerry indicated.
“I wish we had my maps,” Heather said. “I had topos for the entire state.” Her eyes misted over like they did each time she thought of her house and her friends.
#
The following morning, the sun had yet to clear the horizon, not that it would be clearly visible in the cloud-covered sky when the last bag was packed into the camper shell. Claude held the Ak47 out to Heather. “This is a sweet rifle, but you better take it with you. You guys might need it more than I do.”
The gesture choked her up, knowing how much Claude liked the gun. “No, you keep it, we’re pretty well armed.”
“I feel like I took advantage of you in the trade,” Claude said. “I wish I could find a way to even it up, but well, I don’t have much of value in this messed up world.”
“Its fine, Claude,” Heather said. “Chad’s rifle would’ve been worthless without the ammo you had. We each got something we needed. That makes it a fair trade.”
“Well, at least take these,” he said and held out two boxes of shells. “These’ll cover what Chad shot.”
“Thank you Claude, but I hope he never needs them,” she said and gave him a quick hug, and another to Jerry.
Dan went to Jerry and held out his hand. “Thank you, Jerry. I’m not sure what we would’ve done if you hadn’t taken us in.”
“You’d have figured something out. Now go find what you’re looking for and come on back. We’ve gotten used to you all being around.”
Chad shook hands with the men and climbed into the back of the pickup. He waved and nodded to the men while his dad and Aunt Heather got into the pickup on opposite sides. As Dan drove slowly out of the ranch yard, Chad looked out wondering, So what are we going to run into out there? And will we find him?
|
|
|
Post by bretf on Jul 17, 2022 8:28:01 GMT -6
Chapter 5
Smoke rose from the chimney in one of the homes where the gravel road met the paved highway, but no other signs of life could be seen. The one smoking chimney, however, was a relief. Heather let out a long breath and said, “I’ve dreaded what we’d find here. That maybe this place would look like mine.”
Dan nodded silently and turned onto the paved road towards Johnsonville, driving slower than he would have in the past. He glanced across at Lisa and Heather. “If something comes up, I need to be able to stop fast,” he said in explanation. “As deserted as the road is, I suppose we could fly down it, but I’m leery of what we might run into.”
They drove through a familiar, yet strange landscape. The irrigated farmland was as barren of new growth as the dry, bleak hills. The fields should be lush and green with alfalfa, and the row crop fields should be shrouded in clouds of dust as farmers tilled the ground and readied it for planting. The hills should be green and highlighted by colorful wildflowers. Instead, the fields were still in the grip of winter and the hills were brown and barren. The whole area, with the ever-present gray sky, looked more like early February than April.
“Sounds good to me,” Heather said. “This never was the busiest highway, but man! Between the last time I was on this road and this time, its plain eerie.”
Dan didn’t respond, nor did anyone else. He felt as bleak as the countryside. He questioned his decision, if he was on a fool’s mission taking his family into such an inhospitable world. Why couldn’t Lisa let me go alone? The question ran through his mind over and over. The heavy silence remained until they were on the long straightaway approaching Johnsonville.
“Stop somewhere, Dan,” Heather said. “I want to scope the area before we go further. When I came this way last time, they had trucks parked across the road to block it.”
“I don’t see any wide spots to park, but I guess I can stop anywhere. We sure won’t obstruct traffic,” he said.
Heather looked over at him. “Okay, everyone stay sharp,” she said, though the comment was meant mostly for Dan. His grim demeanor was palpable.
When the pickup was stopped, Heather and Dan each got out and went to the front. Dan handed his rifle to Heather to use the scope to check out the area.
Chad joined them and his dad asked, “How’s your seat? Do we need to adjust it or anything?”
“No, it’s good. If it was any more comfortable, I might fall asleep,” he said.
Heather put her eye to the scope and studied the magnified image of the area outside the town. “I don’t see anything out of place, but it bothers me. I think we have to expect trouble anywhere, anytime. As I said, the road was blocked by trucks before. It looks like one dump truck is in the barrow pit and one’s been moved into the highway department yard. The others are gone. If someone’s set it up as an ambush point, they disguised it dang well. I don’t see any movement at all. We have to hope the roadblock on the other side of the river is gone as well.
When we go, Chad, I want you alert and ready for anything. Dan, you need to be ready to do some fancy driving. There’s no telling what we’ll find in town or at the bridge. I know Jerry’s friend said it was clear, but we still need to be ready for trouble. Okay, let’s go.” She handed Dan’s rifle back to him, closed the shell door behind Chad, and got in the pickup with her rifle barrel sticking out the open window.
The caution proved unnecessary. For all outward appearances, Johnsonville was a ghost town. Maybe the inhabitants were hidden. Maybe they’d moved in with friends or family like Jerry’s family had. Maybe the pandemic had wiped them out. Whatever the reason, no signs of life were seen. Once they were safely across the river with no sign of the other roadblock, Dan’s grip on the steering wheel loosened slightly and Heather breathed a loud sigh of relief.
The north side of the river was different. Signs of life were seen behind barricaded driveways. Also, they saw increasing signs of destruction; some survivors had obviously become predators. Dan drove with caution, especially as they neared any towns along their route. At one point, he had a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel and he looked down a country road, the road that ran past their own home. They were less than ten miles from it, yet he felt further away than ever, adrift. He turned his attention back to the road ahead and they continued the slow, tense journey.
Near the second town they skirted, they saw people for the first time since waving goodbye to Jerry and Claude. They were in an area with a number of houses close together with the road access blocked. Most intriguing was the stove pipe that rose from the large hoop house and belched smoke. Human shapes could be made out behind the plastic covering.
“Babe, do you see that greenhouse? Do you think it’ll work? I mean, they can keep it warm with the stove, but do you think enough light filters through the clouds for the plants to grow?” Lisa asked.
“Well, you know light is as important as temperature, but I think it’ll work. We’ll have to keep it in mind and try to copy them when we get the chance.”
Other people must’ve thought it’d work, as they saw more variations of the same set up as they traveled. It appeared the locals must be in touch with each other and sharing ideas. Maybe there was hope for the future if they could manage to produce enough food to subsist on and not lose it to a stronger force.
Dan decided he’d stop at one of the places on the return trip and talk to the people. That is if they would talk to him and not shoot him. He might be able to take valuable knowledge back to Jerry’s ranch. Despite the hopeful signs, he was relieved to leave it behind when he drove onto the Quarry Road leading north into the hills.
They drove on through the dry hill country, glad to see Jerry’s other radio friend had also been right, so far at least. They saw no people and very few homes along their route.
“Hey girls,” Dan said two hours later. They’d made a sharp turn and were driving down a long straight section of road. Fallow farm fields were ahead of them and in the distance beyond the farm was a large body of water. “Do you see what’s up ahead?” He seemed almost cheerful when he spoke.
Brooke and Alison looked between their parents and aunt to see. “Dad, that’s a lake,” Brooke said.
“It sure is sweetie. But do you know what lake?”
The girls whispered to each other before Brooke said, “No we don’t. Are you going to tell us or do we have to guess?”
Dan chuckled and said, “No girls, you don’t have to guess. That’s Lake Roosevelt.”
“Dad quit messing with us! That’s not Lake Roosevelt,” Alison said.
Dan chuckled again. “It really is,” he said. “We just never came this way or saw it from this end.” The reservoir was one of Dan’s favorite places to take the family fishing. It had large populations of catfish, bass, and crappie, as well as other fish. But what Dan especially liked, was the water depth where he took the family. It might not have been the best fishing spot, but the water was shallow and the bottom dropped off in a gentle slope. The girls, and Chad before them when he was small, could play without fear of stepping into deep water. They’d all had swim lessons but Dan still took them to the shallow side each time they went to the lake to fish. “This is the other end of the lake girls.”
Alison and Brooke whispered to each other more before Brooke asked, “Can we stop Dad? I know it’s too cold to swim, but can we stop anyway?”
He was inclined to say no but decided the girls’ request had merit. The trip thus far had taken half the day, and they still had a fair distance to their destination and whatever they’d find. A break would be good. “We can’t stop right away sweetie. Most of this area is private ground, but if I remember right, there’s public access, you know, a place where anyone can go not very far ahead.” Again, the twins whispered together excitedly. Lisa gave Dan a smile and a comforting squeeze on his leg.
Dan soon pulled off the graveled road onto a dirt lane. It wasn’t much of a road; if the recent weather had been wet, it would’ve been a series of mud holes. He stopped the pickup short of the lake, glad no other vehicles were present.
Once he was out and opened the back door for the girls, they squealed and ran for the water’s edge. “Don’t get wet!” he yelled at them and went to the back of the pickup. Heather beat him to it and stood to the side as Chad crawled over the tailgate.
“How was the ride, Buddy?” she asked.
“Not bad,” he said. “So, where are we, Dad? Is this Lake Roosevelt?”
“Yep, it sure is,” his dad said.
“I thought so. I wonder if the fishing is any good at this end.”
“I don’t know, Pal. Remember when we saw boats put in, they usually came up this way, but I don’t know where they went. Maybe when things get back to normal, we can try fishing here.”
“Dad, the old normal is gone. It won’t be back. Too much has happened,” Chad said.
“Yes, I know you’re right, but still, I have to hope,” his dad said somberly. “It feels like hope is all we’ve got left except for our family, thank God.”
They walked together to join the girls and Lisa. Heather had dug a water bottle and a bag of dried fruit from the pickup, which she passed around.
“Chad, this is Lake Roosevelt,” Alison squealed.
“But not where we fish. This is the other side,” Brooke added.
They each grabbed one of his hands and pulled him towards the shoreline. “Come on Chad.” He had a big grin as he went along with them.
After everyone made a trip behind a clump of tall brush, they loaded back into the pickup to continue their journey. Heather raised the door on the camper shell and Chad climbed in. “I’d be happy to ride in back,” she said.
“Naw, I’m good,” Chad said and settled onto his seat.
#
The bridge across Wilson Creek on the outskirts of Hamilton was blocked with trucks. Dan stopped the pickup a fair distance from them and asked? “What do you think Heather?”
She studied the roadblock before answering. Two men, armed with rifles were visible. More approached from town on ATVs, alerted to the strangers’ presence. “I think you and I need to leave our guns and walk up there. They look like they may have had trouble and are ready for more. We’ll ask them if they know Mateo and decide what to do based on what they’re willing to tell us.”
“I want to go too,” Lisa said. “The girls will be fine with Chad for a while.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Heather said, “At least not for the first contact. Remember Jerry’s reaction when he saw you guys? I think we should only let them see one of you with your pox scars, along with someone healthy. Let’s see how they accept two of us first.”
“All right,” Lisa said in a petulant tone. “But I still want to go.”
“Well, let’s do it, Dan,” Heather said, and got out and stepped to the side of the pickup. Staying in clear view of the men at the roadblock, she told Chad, “Hang tough Buddy. The road is blocked. Your dad and I are going to go talk to the guys behind it.”
She walked to the front of the pickup and made a show of taking her holster and pistol off her belt and placed them on the hood of the pickup. Dan followed suit and the two of them walked toward the roadblock with their hands in clear view.
“That’s close enough,” a man called when they were half-way between the roadblock and the pickup. “State your business.”
“We’re looking for someone, my son,” Dan called back.
“What’s his name?”
“Mateo Gomez.”
“I don’t know what you’re up to, but from what I see under those pox scars, you don’t look like any Gomez I ever met.”
“That was his mother’s last name. He never took my name,” Dan answered.
“Well, it doesn’t matter. I’ve never heard of him. What makes you think he’s here?”
Dan was disappointed but not surprised. Mateo hadn’t been in the area long, and from what he could find, rather, based on all he couldn’t find, Mateo appeared to be very private. Dan had never found that he participated in social networking, and despite hours of searching online, he’d learned little. The few clues he’d put together were all second-hand information. “His mailing address is a PO box here. Could we talk to anyone else who might know him?”
“Hold on a minute,” the man called. He ducked behind the truck and talked quietly with the other guards. When he reappeared, he called, “Come closer, I don’t like yelling.”
Dan and Heather walked close enough to the trucks to have a normal conversation. Two men stood at different angles to them, each with 12-gauge shotguns, the muzzles pointed directly at them.
The man who’d conversed with Dan stood where he could see the pair clearly. “When did you get the pox, and how long have you been up and around after getting over it? And don’t make anything up. We’ve got survivors . . . and everybody on guard duty is up to speed on it.”
“I might be off a little, but I think I got it ten days after the Super Bowl. I worked with a guy who went to the game and brought it back with him. I kept away from the rest of the family for over a month, well except for my wife, she got it too. I’ve been back with all of them for, oh, I’d guess two and a half weeks now. No one else has shown symptoms. Here, let me show you,” Dan said and reached to unzip his coat.
“Hold it. Keep your hands out to your sides,” the man said.
“I was only going to take my shirt off, and let you see all the pustules are healed and I’m not contagious.”
“That won’t be necessary. I can see they’re healed. As I said . . . I know . . . what to look for,” the man said with a pained expression. “So where’d you come from?”
“We came from Reynolds Creek if you’re familiar with the area. We lived outside of Middleton, but well, it wasn’t safe any longer.”
“I’d imagine you had some bad ones crawling out of the woodwork. You weren’t alone. We’ve got our share of lowlifes hanging out in the hills. Before everything started, they collected their welfare or whatever they lived on, and now, they expect us to provide for them. It’s too bad they didn’t get the pox instead of some of the good people who did.” Again, there was a pained look on his face at the mention of the disease.
Dan saw the pain in the man’s expression and caught the hesitation when he talked about knowing the signs and symptoms. Perhaps they could get farther if he opened up and revealed more. “As I said, I got the virus pretty much right away. So did my best friend. We quarantined ourselves together in my shop. He was too good a man for that to happen to, but it did, and now he’s dead. A few days after I got sick, my wife got it. She joined me in the shop, away from the kids. As soon as we were able to get out of quarantine, a bunch of rogue bikers came in and destroyed our place.”
His voice changed, became harsh. “We had to turn a few of them into dog food to get out, but we got out. And I came here, because, well, I want to be sure my son is safe before we settle in for good. I assume we won’t be able to move around much.”
Dan watched the man’s face, hoping he’d be willing to help. “My name’s Dan Smoke, by the way. This is my sister in law, Heather.” He held his hand out to the man.
The man looked at the extended hand. And looked. His face softened and he stepped forward and held out his hand and grasped Dan’s. “Pleasure, Dan. I’m Russ Camp.” He studied Dan while he shook. “So your son lives here you say?”
“Well, he has a post office box here, but I’m not exactly sure where he lives. He got out of the army last summer and I didn’t manage to find, I mean make it to see his new place.” Dan decided he didn’t have to tell Russ everything. “You know how busy fall can get, and then winter came, and I seem to have misplaced the directions.”
Russ nodded his head in understanding. Fall was always a hectic time on a farm. “As I told you,” he said, “I don’t know your boy. I know he’s not up my way. I live up Rush Creek, by the way. My folks,” again he hesitated and his face twisted with obvious pain,” My folks place w … is here in town. So I came in here. You know safety in numbers.” Dan’s hopes fell before Russ continued. “But I do know someone who might know him. Come on, let’s go talk to Angie.”
“Angie?” Dan asked.
“Yeah, she had a couple of the rural mail delivery routes,” Russ said.
“What about the rest of my family?” Dan asked. “My wife and kids are waiting in the pickup.”
Russ thought a bit and glanced at the men still holding their shotguns ready. One nodded, the other shrugged, so Russ said, “Move your truck into the pullout by the bridge and bring your family along. But no guns.”
“Sounds good,” Dan said and turned and trotted back to his pickup.
After he’d parked, Lisa approached the guard with her curly-haired book-end daughters. Russ’s face softened more at seeing them, but the look was bitter-sweet. “Ma’am, I’m Russ,” he said. “I, uh . . . it’s nice to see you survived the pox.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Russ. I’m Lisa and these two are Alison and Brooke.” Brooke was hanging to her mom’s leg while Alison looked all around. Dan joined them with Chad and made introductions.
Russ said, “So you and the wife got the pox and kept away from the kids enough they didn’t get it?”
“Yeah, the CDC found me right off. They tracked down my coworker who’d been at the game and exposed us all, so I kept away from the family afterward. This young man,” he said and extended an arm onto Chad’s shoulder, “Did a fabulous job watching out for his sisters, and well, he’s still watching out for them.”
Russ nodded and turned. “Alright then, let’s go find Angie. Her place is a few miles out of town but she didn’t feel safe there any longer, so she’s staying in the post office now.”
Heather fell in beside him as they walked. “I don’t want to open fresh wounds Russ, but your expressions make me think the plague was personal for you. If you want to tell me about it, I’m a good listener. I learned in Afghanistan, there are times when talking things over can help a lot.”
Russ missed a step. “You were over there?”
Heather only nodded, so he continued. “So was I. I joined the National Guard to watch out and help protect things here at home. Then my unit was deployed to another nation half a world away. We were over there rebuilding while they were plotting. I got back from that pit in time for a real shit-storm, just after the Super Bowl,” he said. “In fact, I watched the dang game while we were between flights in Georgia.”
Russ hesitated as if he was having a hard time finding the right words. “I was so looking forward to getting home and seeing my family . . . My wife was the only one here . . . My dad had gotten Super Bowl tickets for my daughter’s graduation present. Dad . . . was in Frisco with Becky and my son Glen. They stayed longer to see the sights. Of course, they all got it.” His voice choked up. “My son survived, but . . . I . . . lost . . . my beautiful girl . . . and . . . my dad. I never even got to see her. . . She didn’t make it back home.”
Heather put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry for your loss, Russ. No one deserves that type of homecoming, especially coming back from there.”
“Well, to tell you the truth, after what’s happened, I wouldn’t mind going back. But I don’t suppose the department of defense would appreciate my reasons. I have a new outlook on some of those people,” Russ said.
They continued walking up the quiet street toward the post office. The silence was broken by a loud screech and a woman’s hysterical voice. “DEMON SPAWN! THE DEMON SPAWN ARE HERE! THEY’VE COME FOR US! KILL THEM! SEND THEM TO HELL BEFORE THEY CAN TAKE US!”
|
|
|
Post by bretf on Jul 19, 2022 6:58:21 GMT -6
Chapter 6
“DEMON SPAWN! SEND THEM TO HELL!”
“Oh Jesus, no; not Maribelle!” Russ said. He drew a deep breath, closed his eyes, and slowly shook his head. His shoulders drooped, and he opened his eyes to face the onslaught.
The screeching woman rushed to them, sidestepped Russ, and stopped close to Dan and Lisa; too close. She was well within their personal space. Wide-eyed, they stepped back, only to have the woman follow their moves. If her screeching hadn’t unnerved them, having her right in their faces compounded the uneasiness. Her long black and gray matted hair looked like a squirrel’s nest framing her deeply lined face.
Her head swiveled from Dan to Lisa and back again. When she spoke, spittle flew with every word. “They’re demon spawn! They bear the marks; the marks of the beast! John foretold it all and recorded it in Revelations!”
Her voice rose in a high pitched screech. “THEY’RE DEMON SPAWN! THE MARKS ARE RIGHT THERE ON THEIR FOREHEADS AND HANDS!” She took a couple steps back, triggering relieved sighs, and pointed a bony finger first at one, and then the other. She continued screeching, “CHRIST IS COMING! OH GOD, PLEASE, DELIVER US FROM THE DEMONS!”
She stopped screeching and tears streamed down her face. She focused her wild eyes on Russ in an accusatory gaze and spat out, “You brought them here, Russ Camp! The demons have captured your soul. You’ll burn along with them! You and your abomination of a son!”
Russ’s body tensed and his right hand tightened into a fist. Before he could act, Maribelle turned and ran away. At the first cross street, she stopped and looked skyward. In a quavering voice, she called, “I’m ready Lord; I’m your faithful servant; I have refused the marks. Take me now Lord. Deliver me to your kingdom. Take me away from the demons.” She collapsed onto the ground in a sobbing heap.
She wasn’t taken as she’d pleaded but flinched as something struck her. An overweight teenaged boy stood across the street from her, laughing. He stood over a pile of horse manure. With a sneer on his face, he took aim and threw another road apple. It missed her, but he reached to the pile at his feet, selected another turd, straightened, and heaved it.
“Rory, you knock it off!” a girl yelled. She ran up and stood in the path of his projectile and ripped into him.
Chad stared, admiring her, not only for standing up to the bully but man, she was pretty. He took an unconscious step nearer.
The rest of the group with Chad stared as well, but at the quivering wreck of a woman. Russ Camp shook his head while he glared at her. “Geez Maribelle, you had to get away from Jim right now, didn’t you?” he said under his breath.
As if on cue, a haggard-looking man appeared from the side of a building and hurried over to them. “Sorry Russ, folks. She slipped away when I wasn’t watching,” he said before he crossed the distance to her and kneeled beside the sobbing mess. He whispered soothingly into her ear and rubbed her back.
Russ tapped Heather’s arm. She was still staring, wide-eyed at the shuddering woman. Russ motioned with his head and started to walk away. Heather shook herself free of the sight and glanced at Dan and Lisa to be sure they were following and fell in behind Russ. She needn’t have bothered to check. They were past ready to get away from the woman.
“Can we walk faster?” Lisa asked. She glanced behind her to make sure the fiend wasn’t following but the kids were. Chad was still motionless as he watched the girl chew out the chubby boy. “Chad, girls, are you coming?” his mom asked.
Alison and Brooke were stuck like glue to Chad’s back. They’d initially clung to their mother when the screeching started, but let go when the crazy lady ran at them. They’d scampered to the next line of defense, Chad. He had backed slowly away from the woman, keeping one hand on each of his sisters. Now, the twins pushed at Chad to get him turned and moving after the adults. He was reluctant, and with one last look at the girl, turned and followed.
Once they crossed the street, Heather asked in a shaky voice, “Russ, what just happened? That broad’s nuts. I’m not sure what I would’ve done if she’d got in my face like she did Dan and Lisa.”
Chad and the girls had caught up and he heard the question. He had an inkling of what it was. Before the internet went down, he’d seen stories about people like the woman, but he hadn’t expected to run into any. He certainly hadn’t expected such intensity from them. When he read the articles, he thought they were a bit off mentally. Seeing one in person made him amend his opinion. They or at least Maribelle weren’t a bit off, she was full blown whack. He had a goofy thought and couldn’t stop himself. “Russ, I sure hope that wasn’t your mayor,” he said, trying to look serious.
Russ stopped and looked at Chad, the tension draining from his face. “No,” he said, and stifled a laugh. “Thank goodness, she’s not the mayor.” He did laugh then. “But, the kid chucking horse crap at her, well, he’s the mayor’s kid, if that tells you anything.” He chuckled and said, “Thanks Chad, I needed that.” His face turned serious as he looked at the couple down the street. The man was helping the crazy woman to her feet.
All the mirth Chad’s question caused gone, Russ said, “I figure Maribelle fried her brain with drugs and that caused her to be how she is now. Whether she did or not, it sure didn’t take much for her to go off the deep end once the smallpox hit. She always was wound a little tight and a real wild one when we were in school. Then, our junior year, she took off with a guy to California.”
“Wait a minute,” Heather said. “You and she went to school together? You’re the same age as that old woman?”
Russ chuckled at the question. “Sure am, well, within a few months. But yeah, she ran off, and anyway, afterward, we heard rumors about her from time to time, that she was making pornos and heavy into drugs. Nothing good, for sure. She was gone for years, but when she came back, she looked thirty years older. And what a pain in the butt she was then. She had a ‘holier than thou’ attitude, worse than anything out of the Vatican, and pointed out every little thing people did wrong. She’d been born again, seen the error of her ways, and all that stuff. I think she got into a cult, not religion as I believe in it. Anyway, she believes the pandemic and the wars were all foretold in Revelations and we’re going through the end times. She’s certain the rapture, you know, when all the true believers leave the earth and go to Heaven, will happen any day now.”
“Well, I have to say, a fair number of people at our church thought we were in the end times,” Lisa said. “The elders wouldn’t commit either way, at least not publicly. But none of them acted like her. So the man who came up, is he her husband?”
“No, that’s her brother, Jim. He’s a good guy and doesn’t deserve to be saddled with her, but hey, she’s family.” Russ shrugged and gave a wry look. “He can’t desert her. You don’t do that, you know, no matter how appealing it seems at times,” he said to nods of acknowledgment.
“No, the guy who came back with her from La-La land, I don’t know if he was a husband or what, but regardless, it was obvious he didn’t follow scripture. Neither Maribelle’s rigid interpretation nor most everyone else’s view. He liked to drink too much, and things mysteriously disappeared after he came to town. He didn’t work, but conveniently, always had money for beer and smokes. He came down sick and Maribelle was convinced it was God punishing him for his wicked ways. He went back to California for treatment for whatever was wrong with him, you know, since all us hicks have is horse doctors. That was three days before the Super Bowl. And you know all too well how that turned out. Of course, I heard most of this second hand after I got back.
“Anyway, once the pox hit, she’d go around and read passages from Revelations to anyone she could corner. The bombs reinforced her views and made her preach all the more. If that wasn’t bad enough, my son came out of the pox with the scars. That’s when she decided they’re the mark of the beast. I don’t see the numbers the Bible mentions in them, but I guess Maribelle does.”
Chad was sure the lady was touched in the head, not touched by God.
“So she reacts to your son the same way she did to us?” Lisa asked.
“Pretty much,” Russ said. “It’s not as if Glen, that’s my son, doesn’t have enough to deal with, what with losing his sister and grandpa, and nearly dying himself. But once he could be around people again, he had to run into her and got that crap right in his face. She was one of the first people he saw. I was so mad at her. I nearly came unglued and dang near did something I might’ve regretted later. Or not regretted; I’m still not sure, but my blood boils every time I see the hag.”
“That’s terrible, Russ. I can’t imagine how hard that was for your son. How old is he?” Lisa asked.
“He’s sixteen, and now instead of a promising future, he’s got this . . . this . . . life . . . and he has to watch out for Maribelle every time he steps outside . . .”
The group was quiet for a long minute, digesting Russ’s story. Finally, he broke the silence. “Okay, enough about that, let’s get to the post office.” He turned and led the group down the street.
Chad had only paid partial attention to the conversation, glancing back over his shoulder often to steal looks at the pretty girl as she admonished the chunky kid.
#
A bell jingled when Russ opened the post office door. A middle-aged woman came from a back room and stopped short at seeing the group of strangers in the lobby. Her face softened when she saw Russ. “Hey Russ, what’s going on?” she asked.
“Hey Angie, this is Dan. He’s looking for his son and I thought you might be able to help him out.”
“Your son? Is he lost and you don’t know where he is, but you think I might? I don’t run the search and rescue, you know. So what makes you think I might know his whereabouts?” Angie asked.
“Well ma’am, the address I have for him is a PO Box here in Hamilton and I haven’t been to his place. I’m not too familiar with the area,” Dan said in passable political speak. He hadn’t told a lie, but his statement omitted a lot.
“Okay Dan, first of all, my name’s not ma’am. It’s Angie. So, what’s your son’s name?”
“Well, m . . . uh, Angie, his name is Mateo, Mateo Gomez. . . . And my name is Dan Smoke.”
Angie’s gaze sharpened and she scrutinized Dan while she nodded her head thoughtfully. “Ah . . . so you’re the every-other-week letter guy. Mat wouldn’t tell me anything about those letters when I asked. Not that I can get him to tell me much of anything personal.” She blew out an audible breath. “He’s a pretty private guy; friendly, but private.” She cocked her head slightly and continued to study Dan. “He goes by Mat, by the way, not Mateo. You two must have quite the father-son relationship if you have different last names and you don’t know what first name he uses or where he lives.”
Dan choked down the lump in his throat and held the woman’s gaze despite the intense look she gave him. Matt. He hadn’t considered his son might go by the shortened version of his name. But just the mention of the name, even if it addressed another person took him back to his shop, to the other Matt, his best friend dying of the smallpox while he helplessly watched. The anguish was fresh and raw all over again. His eyes misted and he couldn’t respond to Angie’s statement right away.
He fought down the surge of emotion and blinked a few times to clear his eyes, then said, “You’re right. We don’t have a relationship. I’ve been trying to reach out to him ever since I found out he was around here. That’s what all those letters were. I’d planned on coming to look for him for quite a while, but time wasn’t on my side. The pandemic hit, and as you can see, I got the smallpox. I suppose you can say thoughts of Mateo, err, I guess I should say Mat, have occupied my mind ever since.” He paused, fighting another surge of emotion from saying the name. “I just want to see and talk to him and make certain he’s safe. Then I’ll get out of his hair. We’ll all go back down to Reynolds Creek and try to ride this out.”
Angie’s gaze softened at seeing Dan’s obvious pain. “Well, you appear genuine. Are these your kids too?” Angie asked, looking at Chad and the twins.
“Yes, they are.”
“Hmm, well, as I said, Mat’s a very private person. He’s never mentioned a family to me, so I’m not sure what I should do. You see, although he has a PO Box, I took his mail to him once a week. He lives near one of my routes, well former routes, but he had the box for privacy. He didn’t want an actual address listed anyone could find and use to locate him.
“The last time I was up at his place, I told him I was moving into town. I didn’t feel safe at my home anymore. I suggested he do the same, but as I said, he’s very private. He said he’d be fine.” She studied Dan further; his red eyes and his nose that needed wiped before it dripped. He caught it with a handkerchief just in time.
“All right,” Angie said shaking her head. “I hope he’s not too mad at me. I’ll tell you, but if you’re feeding me a line, I swear, I’ll take Maribelle along and hunt you down. Mat’s a fine man.
“So, if you go through Indian Valley, you get on the Wilson Creek Road. Upstream of where King Hill Creek joins Wilson Creek, seven or eight miles out of Indian Valley, a faint track goes up into the hills on the north side of the road. It leads to Mat’s place. Here, I’ll show you on a map.” Angie went behind the counter, bent down and looked around a bit before pulling out a map of the area.
Dan was glad she mentioned the map. She talked like he should know everything she was telling him – well I should, since my son lives there, he decided – yet he was clueless about the area. His head spun trying to recall everything she’d said. It was a relief when she showed him where they were and traced the route to Mat’s home.
Dan stared at the map. He was close, so very close. It seemed unreal he could be so near his son. He cleared his throat and in a strained voice, said, “Thank you, Angie. I . . . I really appreciate it.” He turned back to his family. “Okay, we know where we need to go. We better hurry. We don’t have much daylight left.”
|
|
|
Post by bretf on Jul 19, 2022 6:59:37 GMT -6
Chapter 7
Russ had stayed back with the rest of the family and listened while Dan and Angie talked. When they finished, he held his hand on the doorknob without turning it. “Dan, I think it’d be prudent for you to reconsider going out this late in the day. It’s too late for you to find his house before sundown and it’s dangerous to approach anyone’s place after dark, especially someone who doesn’t know you. You might as well be wearing targets. You folks can stay over at my place tonight and start out in the morning after it gets light.”
“Thank you, Russ, but we’ll be all right. We don’t want to impose,” Dan said.
Russ pursed his lips, shook his head, and said, “I understand you want to get going, but you can’t make it before dark. It won’t be safe. My time overseas opened my eyes to how black-hearted people can be. I saw things from a new perspective when I got back. So even though I grew up and spent most of my life here, I recognized some peoples’ true selves for the first time. Do you know the old song “The Snakes Crawl at Night”? Well, it’s too true of the two-legged variety. I won’t go outside of town after dark unless I don’t have a choice, and there’s no way on earth I’d take kids out. Plus, all the good people are armed and jumpy. They’re liable to shoot anyone they don’t know and trust.”
“Is it really that bad?” Dan asked.
“I believe so, but maybe I’m being selfish,” Russ said.
“Selfish? I’m sorry, but I’m not following you,” Dan said.
Russ had a pained expression. “Yeah,” he said resignedly. “But aside from that, you know I mentioned people around here who expect everyone else to take care of them?”
Dan nodded.
“Well, we don’t know what they’re up to now, we being the people who worked for a living. But we’re pretty sure they’re just lurking around, watching for opportunities. Some of those people were real lowlifes before, and they’re worse now with the veneer of society removed. We always figured several of them grew dope and were better armed than most of us. And, well, now people disappear when they travel. Not that there’s much travel, of course, but a good percentage of those who do venture out are never heard from again. Especially anyone who goes at night.”
“But all the normal communication is down,” Dan countered. “That could be why you never hear anything.”
Russ shrugged in response.
It was quiet while Dan studied Russ and considered all he’d said, weighing his options. “Okay, so it’s dangerous traveling, and more so at night,” Dan said. “I get it. But how can telling us make you selfish?”
“As I told you, my son, Glen got the pox and survived. He, well . . . he’s been a recluse ever since Maribelle saw him.” Russ’s face twisted with pain.
“But didn’t you say there were two survivors here?” Lisa asked.
“Yes, I did. But Barbara left right after the wrath of Maribelle rained down on her. She threw some stuff in her car and got out of town. That was five days ago. She said she was going to a cousin’s farm. I hope she made it.”
“So,” Lisa began slowly as her mind replayed Jerry and his sons’ initial reaction when they saw her and Dan. “Everyone is afraid of your son; they think they might catch smallpox from being around him. And the one person he could relate to ran off. Oh, the poor dear.”
Russ said, “That’s pretty much it. We’ve educated the guards and Angie, but no one else will listen; they’re all afraid of him. And you received the Maribelle experience first-hand, so you know what it’s like. He doesn’t want to take a chance of her seeing him and going through it all again. Aside from that, though, I REALLY don’t think it’s safe after dark. In fact, we triple our watch at night.”
Lisa flashed Dan a sidelong glance and before he could respond said, “Thank you for your generous offer, Russ. We’d love to stay at your house tonight.”
“But Lisa –,” Dan began.
She turned and faced him with a defiant stare, silencing him. “Dan, we came here as a family! And our family is not going out there this late in the day. If it’s anywhere near as dangerous as Russ says, WE ARE NOT exposing our children to it. We’ve waited this long, we can wait one more night.” Lisa’s intense look could have wilted plants.
“Uh,” Russ said, visibly uncomfortable being caught between the couple. “I don’t have beds for you all, but well, I do think the house would be better than a tent, or all of you crammed into your pickup for the night.”
Dan’s eyes locked on Lisa’s. “Whatever you have will be fine Russ. Speaking of our pickup, can we go get it?” he asked tersely.
Lisa held Dan’s gaze while Russ said, “Sure. We can move one of the trucks enough for you to get through and drive over to my place.”
Russ turned and said, “Thanks, Angie. I’ll see you later.” He opened the door and stepped outside, followed by Dan and his family. “The house is pretty close. We might as well swing by and let you and the kids get settled in,” he told Lisa.
Chad paused outside the door, looking in every direction for the girl. She was nowhere to be seen so he fell in dejectedly with the rest of the group.
Dan dropped back and took Lisa’s hand. “Thanks, sweetheart,” he said.
Lisa missed a step. “Thanks? For what?”
“For not letting me do something stupid.” He still didn’t sound pleased.
“Well Babe, it’s like the old saying: it’s a dirty job, but somebody’s got to do it.” She gave his hand a squeeze, then let go and took a couple of fast steps so she could walk beside Russ to hear what he was telling Heather.
“– And of course the smallpox hit, but they managed to get back from Frisco before travel restrictions went into effect. But it was just Dad and Glen. They were all exposed, but Becky . . . it hit her hard . . . and Dad took her to a hospital down there. She . . . had a reaction . . . to the treatment . . . and . . . well, she was one of the . . . first . . . casualties. . . The CDC wouldn’t even let Dad bring her home for burial.” Russ was quiet while he fought for composure.
“Anyway,” Russ said when he could continue, “Dad and Glen were sick, and knew they needed to be in quarantine. They went to our place out on Rush Creek, and I stayed to take care of them as much as I could. They needed someone, after all. It was a gamble, but we hoped since I’d been inoculated for normal smallpox before going overseas, maybe I’d be alright. Linda, my wife, came in here to Dad’s house.
“Then we heard missiles were incoming just before the power shut off.”
Russ choked back a sob and missed a step. “And the damned virus killed my dad.”
Lisa and Heather each put comforting hands on his back. “That’s terrible, Russ,” Lisa said. “This whole thing has been such a needless tragedy.” They didn’t speak further as they continued along the quiet street to a small house.
Russ stepped inside and spoke loudly, “Hey Glen, Linda, come out here. We have visitors.”
A young man looked cautiously around the corner of the hallway opening. His face filled with surprise at seeing strangers covered in pox marks. A woman appeared from what must have been the kitchen.
Russ held one hand out towards Dan and his family, the other towards his son and wife. “Folks, this is my son Glen and my wife Linda. Honey, Glen, this is the Smoke family. They’ll be spending the night with us. I’ll let them introduce themselves to you while I take Mr. Smoke back to the bridge for their pickup.”
Dan and Russ went back outside and walked side by side to the bridge. “So I gather things are pretty bad further south,” Russ said.
“I wouldn’t say it was pretty bad, I’d call it danged bad,” Dan said. “I’m not sure how much you know, but Heather saw the flash of two nukes and the mushroom from another one. She figures the air base, air guard, and the capital were all hit. We don’t have a clue how widespread the destruction was, but I’ve been going under the assumption all our key infrastructure was destroyed. As you can imagine, most people weren’t prepared for this, neither the pandemic nor the nukes. So to have both, well, you can picture the results, although I’m still having a hard time accepting it. So then you throw the bad elements into the mix, you know the people you told us are lurking around and others who wished for something like this to happen. They’ve become predators. The ones who destroyed our place, well, I can’t imagine any animals as vicious. As I said, it’s dang bad out there.”
Russ said, “That’s about what I figured. So all the more reason you shouldn’t go out after dark.”
“Yes, but it’s not all bad,” Dan said. “We left our place headed for Heather’s house at Reynolds Creek, but it was gone, burned to the ground after a bunch of thugs attacked it. A neighboring rancher took us in. He gave us a place to stay and fed us. We still have a place with him when we finish here.
“And along the way, I saw a lot of new hoop houses that’d sprung up since I’d been through the area, and it looked like a lot of people were working and pulling together. So there are good people out there too, as well as the bad, all struggling to survive. I pray the right ones prevail once this all shakes out.”
They were near the roadblock and Russ said, “We should keep your guns, Dan, but well, I feel you’re trustworthy. I sure hope you don’t prove me wrong.”
“Naw, I don’t plan on causing any problems. I only want to get through the night, and then go find Mateo, er, I guess I should say Mat,” he said with a wince. Matt! There it is again. “Then get back to Reynolds Creek.”
Dan walked between the trucks while Russ talked to the men on guard duty. When one of the trucks blocking the road was backed out of the way, Dan pulled through the gap and waited for Russ to get in the cab with him.
“Russ, let us repay your hospitality by providing supper,” Dan said as he drove.
“You don’t need to do that, Dan.”
“I know, but as I was so generously told a couple of days ago, I want to. Rest assured, it won’t be gourmet.”
Dan parked the pickup and went to the back. He dug around and took out three quart jars of home canned chili and a pop bottle full of wheat kernels as the sky was losing its meager light. He glanced at the horizon and said, “Thanks for inviting us to stay Russ. I suppose it would’ve been really stupid if I’d taken the family out so late. It’s a good thing I’ve got a wife who’s smarter than me.”
“Isn’t that the way of it for all of us,” Russ said and led the way to the house.
Lisa and Linda chatted as they heated the chili on the wood stove and toasted the wheat. While they were cooking, the rest of the family carried their bedding into the house and laid the sleeping bags out in the living room. Like the shed at Jerry’s ranch, it was tight, but they’d become accustomed to tight quarters.
Following the meal, they sat around the kitchen table and talked. The girls soon nodded off and were put to bed, followed a short time later by Dan. He didn’t sleep, just lay in his sleeping bag and dwelled on the next day, wondering how it would go. Chad, his mother, and Aunt Heather stayed up long into the night talking with the Camps. Lisa was stretching out the time Glen had with them as much as she could.
“May I ask a personal question?” she asked at one point.
“I guess,” Russ said.
She looked from one to the other. “Are you believers?”
“Yes, we are.”
“Well, when Dan came down with smallpox, I spent a lot of time in the Bible. I found a lot of comfort there, but the verses that stuck with me most were Isaiah, 41:10-13. I won’t quote them, but in a nutshell, it says not to fear, because God will strengthen you, and those who rage against you will be ashamed and disgraced. Glen, I think you should read those passages, and maybe, they’ll help you with everything. And especially in putting up with Maribelle.”
|
|
|
Post by CountryGuy on Jul 20, 2022 5:28:08 GMT -6
Bret, More excellence and lots of content. Thanks so much!
|
|
|
Post by bretf on Jul 20, 2022 6:39:12 GMT -6
Chapter 8
Dan had warring emotions the following morning. He confided to Lisa that part of him wanted to hurry everyone along and get going. Another part was dreading their reception and afraid of meeting Mateo, Mat he corrected himself. After all, despite all the letters he’d sent, none had been answered. Maybe the whole trip was a bad idea. Lisa did her best to reassure him but he was still troubled.
“I’ll check outside before you go out,” Russ said, “I wouldn’t put it past Maribelle to be waiting for you, and you sure don’t want to start the day off running into her.” He walked out and looked up and down the road, didn’t see anything to concern him, and signaled the family.
Dan, Heather, and the kids left the house carrying their gear and packed it away into the back of the pickup. Lisa lingered and gave Linda a hug, then Glen, and whispered to him, “Stay strong Glen. You’re a better person than Maribelle. People need to see you and be reminded what a fine young man you are. They’ll soon look right past those spots and see the real you again. Good luck, and . . . well . . . goodbye.” She pulled away and wiped at her eyes.
#
Glen watched her leave the house, and then stared at the closed door; the door separating him from the world.
“She’s right, you know,” his mom said.
“I know, and nothing against you and Dad, but I’m tired of being alone,” he said. With a shaking hand, he opened the door and walked outside with his mom to Dan’s pickup.
Heather sat on the back seat behind Dan, leaving the front seat open for Russ to ride to the bridge. She’d get in front after he got out.
“Oh, you don’t have to bother, I can walk over,” Russ said.
Heather grinned at him. “You don’t want me and Lisa to pick you up and force you in, do you? How long has it been since you’ve been manhandled by a couple of women, anyway?”
“You mean it, don’t you? All right, you convinced me. It wouldn’t look too good for the town security if folks saw you getting the best of me.” Russ climbed in next to Lisa, and Dan drove away.
Glen stood at the side of the road and waved again. Movement in the window next door caught his eye. He waved and spoke loud enough to be heard through the window pane. “Good morning Mrs. Seid. I’m feeling a lot better now. Can I do anything for you, pump water or carry firewood or anything at all?” he asked.
The elderly woman hesitated, then waved and raised the window a bit. “Good morning Glen. Thank you for your offer, dear. Maybe you could get a wheelbarrow load of firewood to the back door. I’m out in the house.”
“Sure thing, Mrs. S. I need to go get my gloves and coat first though.” Glen went into the house, and soon emerged out the back door wearing his hat, coat, and gloves. It might be gloomy, but he thought it was wonderful to be out of the house. He whistled a tune while he walked to the neighbor’s woodpile.
#
Dan stopped the pickup at the roadblock and Lisa got out and gave Russ a hug. Dan and Heather settled for shaking hands. They all thanked him again for his hospitality and they bid farewell. Each of the three got back into their accustomed seats and they drove away on the deserted highway.
Twelve minutes later, a road sign read “Indian Valley Next Right”, and Dan slowed and turned onto a narrow farm road. After a few miles, a cluster of buildings could be seen.
“I don’t see a roadblock,” Heather said. “That’s a relief, although it doesn’t look like much of a town. I see a church though, so I guess it qualifies.”
For Heather, a town had to have a church or a place to sit down and have a beer and a sandwich. Both weren’t required but one or the other was needed to be considered a town. It appeared Indian Valley met one of her criteria.
A large building stood on the opposite side of the street from the church. The weathered sign in front indicated it was the community hall and fire department. A two-story building that might have been a store at one time stood vacant beside a boarded-up gas station. The buildings were surrounded by pastures, hay fields, and a handful of scattered homes. Although a couple of the houses were in excellent shape, others showed a lot of wear. As a whole, Indian Valley didn’t appear to be much of a town.
“You know, I think I like this place,” Heather said. “A person could find a lot of seclusion around here. Mat just might have a good head on his shoulders.”
“Of course he does, Aunt Heather,” Alison said.
“He’s our brother you know,” Brooke added.
Dan ignored the talk and drove slowly, watching for Wilson Creek Road. When they came to it, the road was well marked and he made the turn with a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. It was only a few miles more, according to Angie. He couldn’t help but wonder what his reception would be when they located Mateo. Thoughts of the meeting made him glad he hadn’t eaten that morning, although he’d love a couple antacids.
The minutes dragged by and Dan glanced yet again at the odometer. If he had it figured right, they had just over a mile to go. He belched quietly and wiped his sweating brow.
The inside of the pickup cab was silent. The girls had involved their mom in a lively conversation until they turned onto the Wilson Creek Road but sensing their dad’s mood, they’d been quiet since.
The road swept around a sharp bank to the right ahead of them. Dan looked at it and wondered if the lane he was looking for would be on the back side of that hill; they had to be close. He mopped at his brow again and swallowed a taste of bile.
The silence was shattered by a loud bang from the driver-side front tire, and the pickup lurched to the left before Dan could correct it. A sickening sound of metal and plastic being crushed ripped through the quietness as the pickup smashed into unyielding rock. Dan’s head slammed into the steering wheel.
Dan slowly lifted his head and wiped at the blood running into one eye. He blinked, dazed, and tried to focus his sight through the steam that shot into the air from the misshapen hood. He should be doing something, but couldn’t figure out what it was. His door was open; he didn’t know if he’d done it, but he turned to get out of the pickup. He fell more than stepped out and landed on his hands and knees in the gravel. Pulling on the door for support, he struggled to his feet and swayed for a few moments. In a daze, he wobbled as he walked to the back of the pickup to go around it as Chad climbed out of the shell.
“What happened? Hey, are you okay Dad? Your head’s bleeding. Here, let me see it.” Chad had to bend his dad forward to see the cut. “It isn’t too bad. Hold my handkerchief over it to stop the blood.” Chad folded the cloth and put it on the cut, and then had to guide his dad’s hand to it. He took his dad’s other arm and led him past the pickup, in the direction of his mom, sisters, and aunt. Aunt Heather had gotten the other three out of the pickup and stood back from it studying the wreck.
The front had hit the wall of rock hard, and the metal was crumpled like an accordion. The hood had a fold in it and steam still shot out. She looked lower, at the engine coolant that flowed onto the road and ran to the flattened front tire where it made a green puddle.
Heather’s eyes grew wide and she looked at the hill above them. “Christ, that’s a spike strip in the tire!”
|
|
|
Post by bretf on Jul 20, 2022 6:40:42 GMT -6
Chapter 9
Heather no more than spoke when a shot rang out. The hillside erupted in gunfire as more shots followed. Confused, Chad looked towards the source of the firing before it registered his family members were the targets.
As bullets whizzed around the fully exposed group, Heather unslung her AR-15, aimed and fired up the hillside. The only result was to draw the attention of their assailants. She let out a pained grunt and crumpled to the ground. The sound drew Chad’s attention and he looked at her motionless form in desperation. Blood began to well where her head met the roadbed.
Then he saw his sisters frozen in place. They stared wide-eyed at Aunt Heather. The girls had the classic “deer in the headlights” look. Chad leaped at them, knocking them down. He wrapped an arm around each girl and covered them the best he could.
“Mom, Dad, get down!” he shouted. His dad was still in a fog and stood where Chad left him. Chad watched in horror as a spray of blood erupted from his dad’s leg and he collapsed. His head bounced off the road’s surface and he lay on the gravel motionless.
Lisa let out a strangled cry and dropped to his side. Mercifully, the gunfire stopped, but Chad stayed over his sisters, covering them in case the shooting started again. Alison and Brooke cried uncontrollably beneath him.
He looked up at the sound of moving rocks and dirt as something large came down the steep hillside towards them. A man hurried down the slope, and another approached from a brush patch nearer the road. Chad spared a glance at his rifle lying between him and his parents. The sling had slipped from his shoulder when he made the desperate move to his sisters. He couldn’t reach it with the men so close and watching. Aunt Heather’s rifle was also too far away.
The men stopped and studied the group, one wheezing from the descent. Both were filthy, their hair greasy, and their beards stained and full of debris. “Dang it, Kent, you idiot!” One snapped. “That’s a woman you shot. We could’ve had a lot of fun with her.” The men stared at Heather’s crumpled body. Blood was turning her hair a deeper shade of red.
“Yeah, but we still got the other one,” the man indicated Lisa. He directed a predatory look at her.
The other man looked closely at her for the first time since he’d gotten near. He’d been drawn to Heather and barely registered the rest of the family. “Sure, that’s a woman too, but look at all them spots on her. She’s got that disease. That stuff’s creepy. She can’t be safe to be around. I ain’t touching her. Sure wish you didn’t shoot this one though.” He nudged Heather with the toe of his boot. “Well, what’s done is done. Let’s check that rig out, and get the hell outa here.” He stared back down at Heather with animal longing and shook his head.
Chad kept his eyes on the men and slowly moved his hand toward the revolver strapped on his belt. It was on his side away from the hillbillies, but he moved slowly to avoid drawing attention. He was afraid his movements were jerky, keeping time with his hammering heart.
The man called Kent leered at Lisa. “Aw, I don’t know. If you look past them spots, she’s good looking. She might be worth taking along with us.”
“I ain’t touching any of them, and if you do, you ain’t coming in the house from now on. I tell ya, that stuff gives me the creeps. Don’t you remember how everybody that got it died?” He thought a moment and took a few hurried steps back. “Oh sh . . . Man, I wonder how close ya gotta be for that stuff to spread. Damn, Kent!”
Chad released the leather strap securing the revolver in the holster.
Kent’s eyes widened and he hurried back away from Heather. “Uh, okay, I guess you’re right. So, uh, what do we do with them?” Kent asked.
“Just shoot ‘em, and make it fast. We need to go through their stuff and get outa here.” He stared at Lisa while he talked. “Dang it, but you’re right, Kent. She’d be purty if she wasn’t covered with them spots. But I still ain’t touching her. That stuff’s too creepy.”
“You want me to shoot ‘em all? Them kids too?” Kent asked.
“Might as well. They ain’t gonna last long without someone to watch out for 'em. So it’ll be like putting ‘em outa their misery. And it’ll help stop the spread of the disease. Consider it a humanitarian act.”
“Well, alright, I guess.” Kent raised his rifle towards Chad.
Chad’s hand gripped the revolver; he’d loosened it in the holster but hadn’t drawn it. And he was out of time. He looked straight into the barrel of the rifle. A rifle barrel had never seemed so large.
He had the thought that maybe he could absorb the bullets meant for the girls and still save them. Or he could . . . His heart hammered so hard it felt like it might burst through his chest wall.
Chad pursed his lips and stared defiantly up at Kent. Time slowed and he pulled the .22 as fast as he could while rising to his knees.
Kent froze and his eyes flashed in surprise.
Chad swung the revolver across the top of his sister’s backs in his right hand and brought his left hand to meet it in a two-handed grip. He thumbed the hammer back.
Kent’s trigger finger tightened.
Chad had the revolver lined up. His finger began its gentle squeeze. His heart hammered.
Hot blood sprayed his face an instant after a splat.
Kent started to fall; his finger tightened more on the trigger.
Chad blinked repeatedly to clear the blood from his eyes. He saw each movement, between blinks, like frames from an old, slow-motion film. Time moved at a crawl.
Kent’s rifle fired into the roadbed. The bullet ricocheted with an angry whine across Wilson Creek. He collapsed in a heap.
Chad couldn’t process it all, and he didn’t recall shooting and the pistol’s recoil. However the hillbilly was down, so he must’ve fired. There was no time to dwell on it though, the other man still stood. He shifted his gun to the second man.
The man was raising his rifle to a firing position.
Chad lined the sights up on the center of the bearded face and began to gently squeeze the trigger.
A distant pop sounded an instant before a splat, and the man buckled.
Chad stared, not sure what’d just happened, but it was hard to concentrate. His heart hammered and his breath came in ragged gasps. The gun that’d been so steady a moment before, danced in his trembling hands. As the adrenaline surge dissipated, his entire body began to tremble. If he wasn’t still on his knees, he would’ve fallen. He released his .22 with his left hand, used the hand to support himself, and heaved. His stomach convulsed and he heaved again and again.
When his stomach was as empty as it could get and the shaking subsided, he tried to figure out what had happened. Both men were down. But why, how? He checked his pistol to confirm; it was unfired.
He forced his mind to replay the last few moments. He recalled the “pop” from the hillside and the splat. Someone with a silencer on their rifle, he guessed, shot the men who’d shot his dad and aunt. But who, why?
He scrambled to his rifle, holstered the revolver, and clutched the rifle tight while he scanned the surrounding trees and brush. “Brooke, Alison; stay flat and don’t move! Mom, are you all right?”
He couldn’t see or hear anything out of place, although it was hard to hear much with his sister’s wailing, his mother’s quieter sobs, and the running water in the creek. He looked back at his family on the ground, as well as the two bodies. He was filled with raw, white-hot rage. Heedless of further danger, he pulled his leg back and kicked the nearest man as hard as he could. The man was beyond feeling, but despite the pain that blossomed in Chad’s big toe, he felt satisfaction.
He was ready to deliver a kick to the second man when his mom spoke between sobs. “Chad . . . let it be. . . We have to help Dad and Heather.” Under her breath, she added, “If they can be helped.”
“Mom,” Alison cried out, and scrambled to her feet and ran for her mother. Her face was covered with tears.
Brooke was only a step behind her sister and added her arms, wrapping tight around their mother. One said something unintelligible with their crying. Their mom hugged them and then extricated herself. It was difficult; their four arms clung like tentacles, not ready to release their grip. When she had them at arm’s length, she said, “I’m sorry girls, but I can’t hold you now. Dad and Aunt Heather are hurt and I need to help them. You two have to be big girls for a little bit. Now get in the pickup and wait.”
They didn’t obey. Instead, they looked to their brother. He swallowed hard, then said, “Mom’s right. You need to give us a chance to help Dad and Aunt Heather. Would you do that please?”
“But Chad --,” Brooke said. The words were barely legible, mixed in with sobs.
“Tell you what, we need bandages. Get in the pickup and find something. Maybe a towel or washcloth or a clean shirt. Can you do that? It’d be a big help,” Chad said. He didn’t want to argue with them and he didn’t want to look at his Dad or Aunt Heather, either. Anything but that; he was terrified of what he’d find. Aunt Heather had been shot in the head. It wasn’t like bandages would help her. He wanted to run and get in the pickup with the girls. But . . . he couldn’t.
“Okay,” Alison sniffed. “Brooke, Dad needs us to do this.” Her words came out like hiccups as she backed away. Her eyes got big and she called, “Cha--aad,” in an anguished voice. It was nearly unintelligible, and he passed it off. He felt the same.
His mom needed him. No, he amended, his dad needed him, and he hoped Aunt Heather did too, that it wasn’t too late for her. He looked at the man at his feet, fighting the urge to lash out, to kick and stomp him. Instead, he spat on the still form before he took a few steps and knelt beside his mother. He laid his rifle nearby, freeing his hands to help.
Dan moaned as Lisa fished in his pants pocket for his knife. She pulled it out, opened the long blade and cut up his pants leg to see his wound. When the leg was exposed, she looked at it wide-eyed, clueless what to do next.
Despite voiding his stomach, Chad fought the urge to barf again at seeing his dad’s leg. He swallowed over and over as his mouth filled with saliva. Belching, the taste of bile flooded his mouth. Turning away didn’t help; the image was burned into his mind’s eye and he belched again and tried not to puke. He blinked and blinked, and swallowed hard, and looked for his sisters. They weren’t looking for bandage material as he’d asked them to. They were beside the pickup, wrapped together, wide-eyed and crying.
Chad swallowed again and looked back at his dad’s damaged leg and squeezed his eyelids closed. He failed to see the man approach; didn’t see him standing over them, looking at the leg. Realization came and Chad lunged for his rifle.
|
|
|
Post by rep1270 on Jul 20, 2022 7:39:25 GMT -6
Thank you. I thought I read this but it looks like I had not. Thanks again. Ralph
|
|
|
Post by CountryGuy on Jul 20, 2022 11:59:55 GMT -6
Is that a cliff called Mat??
Can't wait... Had to catch up on this last one over a late lunch break. Thanks!
|
|
|
Post by bretf on Jul 21, 2022 12:33:56 GMT -6
Chapter 10
“Easy there Tiger,” the newcomer said soothingly. “In case you didn’t realize it, I’m the cavalry. Now let’s see what we can do for the wounded.”
Chad stared for several moments while the man’s words sunk in, and then scooted around for a better angle. With his rifle firmly gripped, he watched the man for any wrong move. The man laid his rifle on the ground and knelt beside Aunt Heather. It did appear he meant to help as none of his actions were remotely threatening. Still, Chad held his rifle ready. His muscles were tense and his heart hammered as he watched.
The man moved Heather’s hair around and examined the wound with practiced moves. While Chad and his mom had been tentative of where to start, let alone what to do, the stranger appeared at ease with the task.
The newcomer was nothing like the dead hillbillies. His camouflaged clothing was clean though well worn, and his skin tone, darker than Chad’s, was natural, not the result of accumulated grime. Short cropped black hair showed from under the edges of his boonie hat and he was clean shaven.
Chad looked at the man’s rifle, assuming he was the one who’d shot the hillbillies. It wasn’t fit with a silencer as he’d guessed. It was a scoped rifle with two tubular magazines below the barrel. He’d never seen its like.
The man straightened from Aunt Heather’s head. He looked at Lisa, then Chad, his dark eyes flashing. “She’s alive,” he said. “It looks like the bullet cut a nice gash in her head and rung her bell. Those buffoons evidently didn’t know head wounds bleed a heck of a lot and figured they’d killed her. They didn’t, and she won’t die from this wound. She will have one devil of a headache though, and I’d bet on a concussion. The bleeding is almost stopped. Now let me see your back, Tiger.”
“Huh? What do you want to see my back for?” Chad asked.
The man gave a wry smile. “To see how bad you’re hit. So far you’re moving okay, but that could just be adrenaline. Now turn around and let me look.”
Lisa’s wide-eyed stare flashed from her sister to her son. “Chad, oh Lord, no, you were shot too?” Fresh tears streamed down her face. “Oh Lord, how can this be happening,” she wailed.
“Well, my back does hurt a little,” he said. The man appeared sincere so Chad decided to trust him. He pulled his layered coat and shirts up, and then stood with his back to the stranger. He felt cold fingers around the area which he realized was starting to feel like it was on fire. The fingers prodded a bit, and then the man pulled Chad’s clothing back down.
“The bullet grazed you, it’s nothing serious. We can clean and bandage it later. Now let’s look at that leg.”
As Chad refit his gun belt around his coat, the man moved over to Dan and his misshapen lower leg. With practiced moves, he pulled on Dan’s damaged flesh and examined the wound.
“Ma’am,” he said, looking at Lisa, “His leg is in bad shape. Without proper care, it’ll be a tough go for him, but I’ve seen guys with worse make it.”
“Oh Lord, what are we going to do?” She started blubbering while she looked from Dan’s leg to the stranger. “We can’t get back to Hamilton or anywhere else with the pickup wrecked. We . . . we . . .” She didn’t complete the statement as she buried her face in her hands and emitted a mournful wail.
The man turned away from her and looked at Alison and Brooke. Since he’d arrived, they’d inched closer and stood a few feet away, holding hands and watching his every move. They’d stopped crying but still sniffed occasionally. He turned a thoughtful gaze to Chad.
“You’ve got guts, Tiger, protecting the girls like you did and facing those idiots. I’m not sure, but I think you would’ve taken them if I hadn’t intervened. You’re not quite typical of the video generation.” He scrutinized the family and smashed truck noting every detail, and came to a decision.
“Ma’am,” he said and tapped Lisa on the shoulder. “My place is close. You can all go there with me. I’m pretty well set up and I’ve had a bit of experience with bullet wounds. You can hole up until we get your truck drivable and your people are fit to travel.”
Lisa looked at him for several moments as if he’d spoken a foreign language, making sure she’d heard right. “Really? You’d take us in?”
“Yep, you can all go to my place until everyone’s up to traveling. But if that’s going to happen, we need to take care of your people first. Now I need you to do something. See that pine tree with the forked top?” He pointed up the slope. “I left my pack on the back side of it. I need you to get it for me. Also, keep your eye out for something that will work as splints. This leg will need to be splinted after we get it wrapped up. It looks like the bullet hit his fibula.”
“His what?” Chad asked.
“Fibula. It’s the smaller of the two bones in the lower leg. The tibia, the bigger one appears to be broken, not shot, although I can’t be certain.”
Lisa didn’t move, just stared at the man.
“Ma’am,” he said sharply, making direct eye contact with her. “I’ve got a medical kit in the pack. We need it if we’re going to save these people.”
She faltered, afraid to leave, but stood and backed a few steps. Then she turned and hurried up the slope.
“These your folks?” he asked Chad, and he grasped Dan’s foot in one hand and the leg below the bullet wound in his other.
Chad said, “Yeah, my mom,” he pointed at Lisa’s retreating form, “My aunt,” again he pointed, “And my dad.”
“That’s what I guessed. Now let’s straighten this leg out before your mom comes back. She might not like seeing what we have to do. You support it above the wound. Wrap your hands tight on his knee and hold it as steady as you can. I’ll do the rest. You can look away if you need to, but hold the knee still.”
With Chad in place, the man pulled the lower leg and straightened it. It wasn’t easy; Chad and the man strained from the effort. “Okay, I think it’s lined up right,” the man said after a bit and relaxed his hold. Fresh blood ran from the wound and the man pulled a bandana out of a pocket and held it against the flow.
Despite the fresh blood, Chad thought his dad’s leg looked better, no longer in the unnatural angle. Better, but not at all good.
“I’m not going to sugar coat it for you kid. This is bad without hospitals or doctors. I wish we had medevac but of course, that’s not going to happen.”
“Medevac?” Chad asked. “What’s that?”
“Medical evacuation. Where I used to be, in most instances after a firefight, a helicopter would come in and pick up the injured and get them to a medical facility. Without those, this leg is going to be rough healing, but we’ll do all we can for it. Now we need to clean these wounds and try to get the blood stopped. Do you have any clean water?” the man asked.
“Uh, yeah,” Chad said and ran to the back of the pickup. He returned with two bottles they’d filled at Jerry’s ranch.
“Good. Give me one. You take the other and flush your aunt’s wound,” he said. He glanced up the hill to see how Lisa was doing. She’d shouldered his pack and was on her way back.
“I’m not sure how pure this water is,” Chad said. “I mean, its good well water, but not boiled or anything.”
“That’s okay. I just want to flush the wounds. Distilled water would be better of course, but we have to use what we’ve got. I’ve got stuff in my kit that’ll take care of anything from the water. When your mom gets back, we’ll do what we can here. I’ll do your back after your aunt and dad are taken care of.
“So those girls, I assume they’re your sisters?” he asked.
Chad nodded and then thought how silly the action was. The man was looking at his dad’s wound while he flushed it. “Uh, yeah, they’re my sisters, Alison and Brooke.”
“That was a pretty noble thing to do in a time like that, covering them like you did. And when you pulled your pistol on that guy; I really think you surprised him enough you would’ve won that one. You were really solid in a tough spot. So what’s your name Tiger?”
“Chad,” he said unsure how much he should tell the man, even though he was helping them. He poured water carefully over the side of Aunt Heather’s head while trying to hold her hair away from the wound. At least his stomach wasn’t roiling from seeing Aunt Heather’s wound as it had when he looked at his dad’s leg.
“You got a last name Chad?” the man asked as he flushed Dan’s wound.
“Yeah, it’s Smoke. Chad Smoke.”
The man’s hand froze, his whole body stiffened for a moment and he looked Chad in the face, searching. When he spoke, the words were harsh, the friendly tone gone. “So, what brings a family like yours out here Chad? You have to know it’s not a good time for traveling.”
Chad was too preoccupied to notice the change. He poured a light stream of water across Aunt Heather’s split scalp. “Yeah, we know. But we’re looking for my brother. I’ve never met him before. I guess he used to be a soldier. It sounds like you were too. Anyway, I hope we can still meet him somehow. I really want to find out what he’s like.”
He looked up from Aunt Heather’s wound and noticed the iron grip on his dad’s leg, the rigid posture of the man. “This is rinsed, should I help you? Does it help stop the bleeding to hold his leg so tight?”
The comment made him look down and he loosened his grip. “So, Chad Smoke, what were your plans for after you met this brother of yours?”
“Well, we wanted to meet him, Dad especially, and make sure he’s okay after all the crazy stuff that’s happened. Then once we knew he was fine and got to know him, we were going to go back down to Reynolds Creek.”
“Reynolds Creek; is that where you live?” the man asked with obvious puzzlement.
“We didn’t but we do now. We went there after a bunch of bikers raided our place. They wrecked our house. Aunt Heather, that’s her name by the way,” he said and pointed at her still form, “And Dad had to shoot some of them for us to get away.
“So then we went to my Aunt’s house at Reynolds Creek, but it was burned down. A rancher gave us a place to live, so that’s where we’ll go.” Chad stopped talking and looked at his dad’s leg. “But now, I’m not sure. Dad’s hurt, the pickup is smashed.” His eyes welled up, and he angrily turned away and wiped at them. He didn’t want to break down and cry in front of the man.
Lisa hurried up and set the pack on the ground beside the stranger, out of breath. “Here . . . it . . . is,” she panted. “What . . . can . . . I do?”
The man didn’t respond. Instead, he stared intently at her with a penetrating look.
“Hello? What now? I brought your pack.”
“What? Oh, sorry, I was lost in my head.” He opened a side pocket of the pack, took out a medical kit, and dug through it. He handed a bottle of iodine to Lisa. “The care we give them would be far different if we had an ambulance with paramedics on the way to pick them up and take them to a hospital. But that’s not going to happen, so what we do is critical. We’re their only hope.
“We’ll start with this on both of them. Iodine is a great antiseptic. I’m sure you know this, but it’ll keep the germs we can’t see from causing infection. Pour it all over the wounds, but I’ll need some for cleaning, and we need to save enough for Chad’s back. Start with her.” He nodded towards Heather. “Is she your sister, or . . . his?” the man asked. There was something odd when he indicated Dan like he’d bitten into a lemon.
“Mine,” Lisa said and started to clean Heather’s wound.
“Chad, this is blood coagulant powder,” he said and handed Chad the container. “Its purpose should be pretty obvious. Sprinkle this over your aunt’s gash when your mom’s done.”
He watched with a sour expression as Lisa poured iodine over Dan’s leg, before looking back in the kit. “Here’s anti-biotic cream. With luck, it’ll take care of anything the iodine missed. Put it on your sister’s wound and then bandage it up. But not too tight.” He dropped a number of sterile dressings and roller gauze in front of her with the tube of cream. “Chad, help your mother get your aunt taken care of.”
The man took a pair of forceps out of the kit, poured iodine on one of his hands, and rubbed it over both hands and the instrument. He shook his head and muttered under his breath, “Heck of a field hospital.”
Lisa heard the comment and looked at him white-faced. “Take care of that head wound!” he snapped. He positioned himself to block Lisa and Chad’s view of what he was doing, used his arm to knock his hat off, and inserted the forceps into the damaged leg, cussing quietly to himself while he worked.
Despite the cold, the man’s forehead was covered with sweat when he raised his head. He looked back and saw Lisa was wrapping Heather’s head to secure the dressing while Chad watched. “Chad, this is ready for a bit more iodine and then the blood powder.” He rinsed his hands the best he could with what little water remained in the bottle.
“So what’d you find for splints?” he asked Lisa.
“I didn’t see anything good, but I brought a couple of branches.”
“I suppose they’ll be better than nothing,” he said with a grimace. “We’ll change them for something better after . . . we get him to the house.” He held a branch to Dan’s leg, marked it for length, broke it off, and then the second one.
When Chad and Lisa had done what they could, the stranger held tension on the leg and raised it off the ground while they bandaged it. “Remember, not too tight!” He snapped and then winced at the sharpness of his tone. They finished by wrapping the makeshift splints in place.
“Okay, Tiger, you’re up,” the man said to Chad. “Get out of your coat and shirt so they won’t get in the way.”
Chad did what he was told and was soon shivering with nothing on top. The man noticed his red chest and raised an eyebrow. Chad saw and said, “We put the iodine on because of the fallout.”
“Good idea. I’ve got potassium iodide tablets at my place. You can switch to them and save the iodine.”
Chad forgot about shivering when his mom swabbed his wound with iodine. The burn in his back flared.
“I have oral pain killer if you think you need it,” the man said.
Chad breathed deep and in a voice higher pitched than normal spat out, “No, save them. Dad and Aunt Heather will need them more than me.” His eyes were wide and his muscles tense while his mom spread the antibiotic on him. He wasn’t sure how well the man was supplied and wanted to make sure what he had was available for his dad and aunt. His back hurt, but he could put up with it. He took the water his mom handed him when she was finished and drank greedily.
“Unfortunately, I don’t have anything to give a shot with, so we’ll have to wait for your dad and aunt to come to before we give them some.”
“So what do we do now?” Chad asked after he’d gotten his clothes back on.
“We need to move them, but we have to work on your truck first to try to get it mobile again. After the engine cools down, we’ll see if we can do anything with it. If we have to, we can rig up a litter to carry one of them,” he said, pointing at Dan and Heather. “But we can’t carry them both. If we can’t make your truck drivable, we’ll need your aunt to be able to walk on her own. Do you have bedding? We should get them wrapped up and covered so they don’t get any colder.”
“Yeah, we’ve got sleeping bags in the pickup. Come on girls,” Chad said and hurried to get them.
#
The man silently watched the three kids, torn. Why did I have to open my big mouth? I invited them to stay at MY HOME, he mentally berated himself. He wanted nothing more than to grab his pack and disappear up the mountain. But he couldn’t do that. No matter how distasteful it was to stay, he couldn’t desert the family. If he did, it would be signing their death warrants.
The boy, Chad, looked capable enough for his age, but getting his family out of the mess they were in would be too much. No, he had no choice but to help them. He silently cussed the dead idiots. Looking over at the bodies, he considered shooting them again for putting him in such a spot. Again, he sent a mental barrage of curses at them and grabbed one by the arm, yanked hard and dragged him to the opposite side of the road. After a quick check of the fool’s pockets, he kicked the body off the embankment.
#
Chad and the girls returned with the sleeping bags and watched while the man went to the second body. Chad dropped his sleeping bag and grabbed the other arm. Together, they dragged him to the edge.
“Man, he stinks. Not that he smelled fresh before, but now he really reeks,” Chad said.
“The muscles relax when someone’s dead, including the sphincter, and the body releases fluid, gas, poop, whatever. So yeah, he reeks.”
The man did another pocket check. “Not even an extra magazine, just a handful of loose shells and a lighter. What an idiot,” he said. Standing, he put his foot to the body, to shove it off the edge of the road. He gave a push with his boot and the stinking body tumbled off the side of the road.
Chad stared a moment, cleared his throat and spat a gob onto the body. The man shot him a grim smile and said, “My sentiments exactly.”
With Lisa’s help, they wrestled Dan and Heather into the sleeping bags. “It’s a start, but we need to get a fire going. Chad and I can get wood ma’am. You stay here with your sister and . . . your husband.”
A fire soon blazed in the road between the two still forms. Alison and Brooke, who’d stayed quietly out of the way, were wrapped in their mother’s arms, soaking up the fire’s heat. Chad returned from the pickup with three rolled sleeping bags. “We don’t have chairs, but we can sit on these for cushions.”
They sat and Chad looked up at the man. “Thank you for saving and helping us. So, as I told you, I’m Chad and my mom’s name is Lisa. Those two are Brooke and Alison.”
Lisa reached a hand over to him. “Yes, thank you very much. I’m sorry I didn’t say it before, but I really mean it. Thank you! You saved us, Mister . . . ?” She left the statement hanging and waited for him to fill in the blank.
The stern look returned to his face. “Gomez. My name is Mat Gomez.”
|
|
|
Post by gipsy on Jul 21, 2022 12:48:22 GMT -6
Have to wait for some back story on the brother, but it doesn't seem to be good.
|
|