by Payne, T. L.
Roger and Zach just stared at each other.
Gene pulled out a tiny, pearled handled single-shot derringer.
"Oh," they both said.
Zach looked over and saw a Glock 19 lying on the work bench.
“Better keep that one close,” Zach said pointing to the Glock.
Gene nodded.
"We've had some sketchy people stalking our place. I wonder if it could be the same group?" Zach asked.
"I don't know. These guys appeared to be on foot. That's a far piece for them to travel on foot," Gene said.
"You're probably right. I imagine there is a lot of sketchy shit going on now," Roger said.
"Looks like you went a few rounds with them before they decided to leave," Roger said, pointing to Gene's battered face.
Gene nodded.
"What can I do for you boys?” Gene asked.
He scooted nuts and bolts out of his way with his boot as he walked over to a stool near his bench.
"Well, Zach here has taken an interest getting a gasifier-powered truck running," Roger said.
Gene turned to Zach and nodded.
"My friend, Ron, he was in the process of building one. It will turn over but won't catch. Roger thought you'd have the parts I need to get it running."
Gene looked around at the parts strewn about the floor. “I probably do, but I…"
Zack looked around the mess that was Gene's shop then back at Roger.
"I'll tell you what. After I get this mess cleaned up, I’ll gather up some of the parts you might need and bring them over. I can take a look at what you’ve got and see if we can't get you on the road."
"That would be great," Zach said, his eyes lighting up.
"I just love that your first truck will be gasifier powered," Gene said, a broad smile filling his bruised face.
Zach was surprised the old guy could smile with his face all messed up like that.
"All right, then. I'll just leave these here with you. No sense in me having to cart them back. We'll look forward to your visit," Roger said, setting the boxes on the bench.
Gene walked over, lifted the lid, and grinned ear to ear. Zach saw that in addition to the black eyes, busted lips, and obviously broken nose, the man was missing a couple of his front teeth. Zach winced at the thought of the beating the man must have taken. He'd love to catch the people responsible and give them some of the same treatment.
"Thank you!" Gene said, slapping Roger on the back.
Zach followed Roger to the door. As he exited, he asked, "Now, what was in those boxes? I won't tell mom."
"Just some entertainment," Roger said.
"What? Like puzzles and books?"
"Male entertainment," Roger said, throwing a leg over the seat of his wheeler.
Zach looked at him, wide-eyed.
"I am definitely not telling Mom that."
He was just hopping on his own wheeler when a metallic ting sounded behind him. The concussive sound made by a rifle followed, causing him to jump.
"Get down," Roger yelled.
A round slammed into the trailer attached to Zach's ATV.
"Zach, get back inside. I'll cover you," Roger yelled, scrambling to put the motor of the four-wheeler between himself and the shooter.
"I can't leave…"
"Zach. Just do it,"
The door to the shop opened, and Zach ran toward it while Roger sent rounds in the direction of the shooter.
"We have to help him," Zach yelled, as Gene brought a pistol up and fired off several rounds before they both got inside.
"The window," Gene yelled as he ran over and opened it.
Gene pushed the screen out and sent two more rounds in the direction of the shooter.
"Do you see them?" Zach asked as he slid in beside Gene.
Zach rested his rifle on the windowsill and peered through his scope. After a moment, he let all the noise fade away. He found the shooter and put the crosshairs on him, then exhaled slowly as he squeezed the trigger. When his rifle fired, he quickly reacquired the man in his scope, and the fine mist he saw as the man’s body fell was proof enough that he had hit his target. But the shooting didn't stop.
"A second shooter," Zach yelled over his shoulder.
Gene was now at the door. He opened it, stuck his hand out, and fired without looking. Zach returned his attention to searching for the second shooter. He heard Roger returning fire. At a lull in Roger's shooting, a figure moved behind an old tractor about 300 yards to the left of the first shooter. As Zach waited for a clear shot, the shooter began firing on Roger.
Zach's heart raced. When he didn't hear Roger resume firing, he nearly panicked, but a moment later, a round pinged off the big green and yellow tractor the man was hiding behind. The shooter moved back. Zack could see boots shuffling between the tires. The shooter stayed concealed behind the tire. Zach waited.
When the shooter eased forward to take his next shot, Zach froze. He recognized the kid. He'd played with him while their parents talked at community picnics on Sundays after church. They had sleepovers in tents in the back yard of the cabin every summer before his dad had died.
Why the hell is he shooting at us?
Zach inhaled, then let it out slowly as he squeezed the trigger. When he heard the kid yelp, Zach bolted for the door. A moment later, he stood over his old friend.
Roger ran up beside him.
"Good shot, Zach," Roger said as he kicked a Winchester 30-30 rifle out of the boys reach.
"Why, Brandon?" Zach asked, shaking his head.
Brandon said nothing.
"You don't remember me?" Zach asked.
Brandon looked up at Zach.
"It ain't personal, bro."
"But why? What do you have to gain?"
The boy tried to sit up, but Roger put his boot in the middle of the boy's chest. Zack looked down. There should have been blood. Gene bent down and ripped open the boy’s shirt. Brandon wore a plate carrier. A good one.
Roger looked around, scanning for other shooters.
"Let's get this piece of shit inside," Roger said, grabbing the boy by his hair and dragging him.
Zach turned and scanned behind them as they made their way back to Gene's shop.
"Who sent you?" Roger asked as he pressed the knife against Brandon's bare thigh.
The kid gripped the arms of the old, wooden chair Gene had zip-tied him to and glared at Roger.
Brandon was hard. He gritted his teeth and said nothing.
Roger slowly ran the blade across Brandon's leg just above the knee. He jerked forward against his restraints and cried out. Zach couldn't bear to watch. He stepped outside the door and leaned against the building. He scanned the woods across the road through his scope. The screams from the shop told him that Brandon wasn't giving Roger any useful information. A few moments later the screaming stopped, and Roger opened the door.
"Zach, we need to get home. Now!”
Chapter 23
Langston Cabin
Evening Shade, Missouri
Event + 23 Days
Maddie heard the four-wheeler coming down the trail at the same time she heard Harmony on the radio.
"It's Jacob," Harmony said.
Maddie turned the handle of the spigot on the bottom of the large, white, plastic tote, that collected rainwater for the cabin, to the off position, after checking it for water. It had been empty when they'd first arrived. They'd had to haul all their water from the creek. But nightly rains had evidently filled up the three-hundred-gallon container.
"Hey, Maddie. I came by to see if you want to join me. I'm going to visit with the Presley and Baker families on your end of the road," Jacob said as he climbed off the ATV.
Jacob had cleaned up. He'd gotten a haircut and shaved in the hours since she'd last seen him. He looked good. Her heart sped up.
She looked down at her dirty flannel shirt and tan tactical pants she'd borrowed from Ron's basement. She turned her hands over and looked at h
er palms. She still hadn't had time for that shower. She ran her fingers through the length of her long blonde hair. They caught in the tangles. She sighed as she pulled the hair tie from her wrist and twisted her greasy hair back into its messy bun.
"Why are you going to visit them?" Maddie asked.
"Dad suggested I go see if we can get more people watching the road. Maybe set up some checkpoints to keep an eye on who is traveling the highway. I called on the Spears family already. They've been hit twice by chicken thieves, and so have the Browns, down closer to Highway 32. They had their chain saw and gas can stolen, as well as a half-dozen of their meat rabbits," Jacob said.
"You really think it’s necessary to set up roadblocks? Who has time to man a checkpoint on a road that maybe two people each day use?"
"I just thought we could see if we could all come together and work something out."
"I'm sure folks around here know who the thieves are. They're likely the same people who were breaking into people's homes before the lights went out."
"We have to do something to secure the area. This isn't working."
"I guess it doesn't hurt to talk to them. Maybe we could figure out a way to have each other's back. But I don't know about checkpoints," Maddie said.
Jacob shrugged.
"Can't hurt to talk to folks about it,” Maddie said.
Maddie found Rank stretched out in a recliner in the living room with his feet up and eyes shut. He dismissed the idea without even opening his eyes.
"I'll ride along with you," Ryan said.
"You're up for that?" Maddie asked.
"Yeah. I can take the side-by-side and you two can ride horseback," Ryan said.
Maddie hesitated. They didn't have much fuel left, but the side-by-side should have enough left in the tank for a short trip up the road.
Maddie and Jacob looked at each other and shrugged.
Thirty minutes later, they were headed to John and Lynda Presley's farm about a half-mile north of the cabin. Their house was close to the road. No doubt, they saw everyone who traveled this section of the highway.
“Hey, in the house," Ryan yelled, as he shut off the engine to the old red Chuck Wagon.
They waited. Maddie turned in the saddle and looked around. She didn't hear anything. She gently pulled on Bluejeans's reins and turned him to face the field across the road from the Presley's house. She raised her rifle and peered through the scope, scanning the tree line and looking for any movement in the underbrush. She felt too exposed. It made her nervous.
She was sure that they'd made a huge mistake when she heard the racking of a shotgun behind her. She instinctually dropped out of the saddle and landed on the ground, putting Bluejeans between her and the direction of the sound.
"Whoa. Whoa there," Ryan called out. "Hey, John. Lynda. It's Ryan Masters here with Sheriff Rawlings and Maddie Langston. Just a friendly visit to check-in and see how folks are doing."
"Greg's Maddie?" Lynda asked, stepping into the doorway of her two-story home.
"Yes, ma'am," Maddie said, stepping out from behind Bluejeans.
"You've grown," Lynda said, lowering her shotgun.
"I hear that a lot these days," Maddie said, taking a step closer. "May we come up?"
"Oh. Sure, Maddie. You too, Ryan. I haven't had the pleasure of meeting the new sheriff, but I've heard good things," Lynda said, placing her weapon on a small table beside the door.
She took a seat on one of the two wooden benches on the wide porch that ran the width of her home.
"It's good to see you made it down here from Illinois, Ryan. I hear it's pretty bad up that way."
Maddie glanced over to Ryan.
"It was getting bad when we left. What have you heard?" Ryan asked as he eased himself down onto the bench opposite Lynda.
"John's friend is a ham operator. He's been scaring the bejesus out of John with tales of war and invasion by the Russians and Chinese. But what has me concerned most is the trouble with some general up there trying to set up his own little country and putting people in work camps."
Jacob's eye's widened. Although Maddie had filled everyone at the cabin in on her discussion with Todd, this was the first Jacob had heard about the trouble up north.
Jacob leaned against the large white porch column while Maddie took a seat on the bench beside Ryan.
"I heard something about that. Seems our governor is quite concerned about that dipshit, as well. He's been sending resources to our border with Illinois to help people fleeing the general's heavy hand," Ryan said.
"We need to go visit this ham operator. I want to check on Emma. Their community has come under attack by DHS before," Maddie said, a knot forming in her stomach.
She'd left Emma there, thinking it would be safer than what they'd face on their trip south from Peoria. Now, she was questioning her judgment on the matter.
Could she convince the guys to go rescue Emma? She'd have to deal with her mom, but she had to know that Emma was safe. She still felt responsible for the little girl.
"John should be back from his hunt, here shortly. I bet he'd ride over there with you. Ole Quincy is a little jumpy these days. You know how it is."
Ryan nodded.
"I'd appreciate that, Mrs. Presley,” Maddie said.
“Lynda—and it'd give John something to do. Having him underfoot all day is getting on my very last nerve. I can't get nothing done with him moping around and spouting off about every conspiracy theory out there."
"You want to go with us, Jacob?" Maddie asked, not wanting to assume he was willing to abandon his mission of visiting all the neighbors up this way.
"I'd be interested to learn what's happening in the rest of the country. I'm with John in being concerned about an invasion by the Russians. I worried about that, but with all we've had to deal with in our own backyard, I put those concerns on the back burner," Jacob said, his expression serious.
Maddie stared at Jacob. He looked more concerned than she'd ever seen him. She hadn't really given much thought to an enemy invasion. He was right. Just trying to survive each day, with its immediate threats, overrode concerns about possible dangerous, distant scenarios.
Was that another thing they needed to prepare for? If so, how long did they have?
Maddie, Jacob, and Ryan sipped lukewarm tea while they waited on Lynda's husband to return from his hunting trip. When Maddie saw the loaf of freshly baked bread in Lynda's hands, she wanted to leap from her seat and devour it, but she waited patiently for Lynda to set the dish on the wicker-and-glass table in front of them. Maddie opened and closed her fists, trying not to look like a starved, crazy person.
From its tan color and heavenly aroma, Maddie knew it was Ezekiel bread. They had several buckets filled with the grain mix in their basement. She was surprised her mom hadn't made any of the bread yet. It did take a while to grind the grain. That was likely why. She imagined when the white flour ran out, she would be eating a lot of Ezekiel bread.
Maddie patiently waited as Lynda served Ryan first, then Jacob. Jacob's eyes rolled back in his head as he tasted his first bite.
“This…” he said with his mouth full. "This is a slice of heaven."
"And good for you. No GMO's, no preservatives. Just a tad of honey and a pinch of salt on the crust there. I wish I had butter, but…"
"It's amazing," Ryan agreed.
Out of the corner of her eye, Maddie saw a flash of something brown and furry. She had forgotten the Presleys’ love of Basset Hounds. Its ears flopped in the wind as the dog bound up the steps and ran over to Lynda.
"John must be back. I'll go out to the barn and let him know ya'll are here, Lynda said as she rose to her feet.
Maddie watched in horror as the dog snatched the last of the bread off the plate and ran back down the stairs with it.
"Damn it, Elvis! That was for company!” Lynda yelled at the dog.
Elvis dropped it in the tall grass on the front lawn.
Maddie stuck
her lip out and slumped her shoulders. She had been so close to getting some. She looked over at the brown lump on the front lawn and frowned.
"Sorry, dear. How about some lemon cookies?" Lynda asked.
Maddie's eyes lit up like a kid at Christmas. Lynda had all her favorites. She wanted to move in with the woman.
"That would be nice," Maddie said with a smile.
Maddie followed Lynda into the house. Lynda stopped just inside the door and slid off her rhinestone-studded sandals. The hem of her summer dress flowed back and forth as she walked down a short hall to the kitchen. Maddie looked back at the sandals by the door. She missed cute shoes. She looked down at her tan boots. She couldn't imagine a time in the near future where she'd feel safe in sandals. The memory of Emma's mother's bloody feet, after walking miles through the streets of Chicago, made Maddie queasy.
"I'll make you a to-go bag, Maddie. I've got some molasses cookies I made yesterday, if you'd like to take some to share with the guys."
"I'm sure they would love some," Maddie said.
The mention of cookies had her mouth salivating.
With two baggies of cookies in her hand, Maddie followed Lynda out the back door to their barn. John was busy cleaning squirrels when they arrived.
The barn was nearly empty. All the normal things she'd expect to see were missing. There were no animals, feed bags, or garden tools.
"We were in the process of moving when the lights went out. Half of our things are in Oklahoma where the kids are," Lynda said.
"I'm sorry. You must miss them," Maddie said.
"We were thinking of heading that way when things calm down some," John said, wiping bloody palms on a towel hanging from a hook.
"Ryan and Maddie wanted to see if you'd take them over to see Quincy. They were interested in seeing if they could find out about a group of friends up in Illinois," Lynda said, quickly changing the subject.
"Illinois. Ain't good up there, I hear," John said.
John handed Lynda the white tote filled with butchered squirrels and headed for the door.
