by Ralph Gibbs
Once Stacy had recovered some of her strength, an armed group from the community, led by David, returned with her to help move what remained of her husband inside their small single floor home. They laid him on their bed, said a few words and then let her gather some of her belongings before returning to the community.
Then there were Toscana’s two missing friends. Lord knows what happened to them. As the daughter of a police officer, Danica was well aware people disappeared, never to be seen alive again. The handcuff key in her shoe resulted from one such tragic disappearance. At least in the old world, there was an investigation and a chance, albeit sometimes slim, to bring people to justice, even if that justice was delayed by decades. Now, what chance was there? Who answers for the crime? Anyone? Who even knows if a crime’s been committed? It reminded Danica of the old saying, “If a tree falls in the forest, and no one is around, does it make a noise?” In today’s new world, if a woman is kidnapped, and no one is around, did it happen? No one was around to witness the death of Stacy’s husband, yet it happened. Will anyone ever pay? For the first time, Danica now understood why the belief in God was necessary. Devine retribution gives a person the comfort needed to keep from going insane.
Still, not everyone in the community came with a horror story. People would always run into assholes. Most people in the community agreed most of the people they met out on the streets were friendly, a little cautious, but often helpful; no reason not to be. For the next few years, everything necessary for survival was at a person’s fingertips.
“I guess I could still take my evening walk,” Danica said. “If nothing else, it’ll give them a chance to see what I look like when I’m not soaking wet.” There was a moment of awkward silence, and then Danica turned to Toscana. “I’m sorry.”
Toscana waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t be. People have been checking me out since I was a young girl.”
“Oh, that makes me feel less of a perv.”
“I’m flattered. Honestly.”
“But?”
“But I prefer men. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve experimented, and I’ve had a few one-night stands with women. It can be nice. However, I get the impression you’re not a one-night stand girl.”
“I honestly don’t know what kind of girl I am,” she said, taking a sip of her tea.
“Virgin?” Toscana said, raising her eyebrows.
Danica smiled. “I am.”
“Your first time should be special.”
“My mom gave me the same advice.”
“Your mom knew you were gay?”
“I never told my parents. I want to think they would have accepted me, and I think they would have. My mom would have. My dad . . .” Danica thought back to what her mother had told her about the Pink Power Ranger incident. “I think my dad would have accepted it as well.” Danica laughed. “It might’ve taken longer with him, but he would have. He wouldn’t have thrown me out of the house, in any case.
“Anyway, when my mother was telling me about sex, she said my first time should be special because I’ll always remember it . . . And my first time should be when I’m fifty. She stressed that last part more than the first.” Danica made her voice higher and tried to sound older to imitate her mother’s voice. “If you end up having a bad experience, at least if you wait until you’re fifty you’ll only have half a lifetime of regret.”
“And you’re sure you’re gay?” Toscana asked, jokingly.
“Good God, yes. Have you watched a normal couple having sex? Never mind, don’t answer that. Let me tell you, I’ve seen it on the Internet.” Danica visibly shuddered. “It’s disgusting. Guy groans, girl moans, then suddenly white shit is going everywhere. In the hair; up the nose. No, thank you. Guys need to keep that white shit to themselves.”
Toscana laughed loudly, gaining the attention of a few in the area. “If they kept it to themselves, there would be a lot fewer babies in the world.”
“That’s not what I’m saying. Danica said, enjoying the girl talk. It reminded her of being in school, talking with her girlfriends at lunch. “All I’m saying is . . . It’s like a glass. You don’t take a glass out of the dishwasher and then smash it on the counter. The glass has a place in the cupboard. It’s nice and neat. You take it out when you’re ready to use it, then put it back up when you’re done. No-fuss, no muss, and no glass in your hair or up your nose.”
Toscana laughed harder. “Oh my God, I don’t have a clue what you were just trying to . . .”
Danica and Toscana jumped at the sound of glass shattering. The older kids stopped playing basketball as three women rushed to the street to hustle the smaller children inside. Danica sighed heavily when she saw that Salustio had smashed an empty tequila bottle against a tree at Wade’s old house. She’d seen him drinking with Ruiz and a group of men she recognized as recent arrivals around a small campfire earlier but didn’t put a stop to it. It wasn’t a battle that needed to be waged then. As long as they weren’t out of control, they could do whatever they wanted. Now, though, it was out of control.
Making sure Danica was watching, Salustio made a production of reaching into his backpack and pulling out another bottle. Thankfully, Ruiz was no longer around the campfire, but the other men were, and they seemed to have the good sense to look uncomfortable.
“I believe the time of testing is upon you,” Toscana said.
From almost the moment they had returned to the housing complex, Toscana warned her that her leadership would eventually be challenged. “I don’t know who will challenge you, but when it comes, you must not hesitate; you must face it head-on, and alone. Otherwise, you will be tested again and again.” At first, Danica wasn’t sure she wanted the leadership and told Toscana as much. As a leader, every mistake, every life lost would be her responsibility.
“Can you follow?” Toscana asked. “Because you can’t do both.” That was the true problem. She never liked being a follower. In school, she was mostly a loner because she wouldn’t conform herself to whatever fashionable click was popular at the time. If she got close to a group, she inevitably clashed with its leader. She blamed her dad for that. He always taught her to be bold and always take the initiative.
“Fortune favors the bold,” he said.
Fortune also didn’t like following.
When they first returned to the community, she naturally assumed leadership because this was her neighborhood, and she could help people get settled. Those that couldn’t accept her leadership were free to leave. No one left.
People also deferred to her leadership because she wore her father’s uniform, assuming she was a state trooper. Matthew knew she wasn’t really a state trooper, as did Toscana. But Danica didn’t know if Toscana had said anything to Ruiz or Salustio. It also helped that Toscana bowed to her authority, or at least deferred to it. Because she did, the group that came with Toscana did likewise. Would they if they knew how old she was? In the end, no one challenged Danica because no one wanted the responsibility. At least until now. If she were to remain their leader, she would have to fight for it. If she lost, she would pack up and leave with Matthew.
“How did you get to be a leader?” she asked Toscana.
“I’m not sure I could be defined as a leader,” Toscana said. “It was more like Salustio and Ruiz were the leaders. It was just that since both of them liked me, I was able to exert a fair amount of influence on both of them.”
“In other words, you played one against the other,” Danica said. Toscana shrugged. “Do you like either one?”
“I have known them both since high school and dated both at one time or another. But,” she said, lowering her voice, “I’ve always liked Ruiz more. Not enough to settle down with him, though. I couldn’t show it until you came along. If I did, it would have upset the balancing act. Salustio would have challenged Ruiz, and Ruiz would have lost. Ruiz was always a better lover than a fighter.”
“If anything happens to me, you’ll take care of Matthew?” sh
e asked softly, putting down her tea and unbuckling her gun belt.
“Of course. I will look after him as if he were my own.” Danica handed Toscana her guns.
“Dany,” Matthew said loudly reaching out for her.
Danica grabbed his hand but kept him at arm’s length. She wanted to hug him in case something happened but doing so while Salustio was watching would strengthen his confidence.
“Matthew,” Danica said quietly, “keep your voice down. I’ll be okay, but if not, you listen to Toscana.”
“I will,” he said tears filling his eyes.
Salustio started to open the new bottle.
“Put the bottle down,” she ordered loud enough that everyone heard. Knowing that something major was coming, everyone stopped what they were doing and stepped closer in anticipation. “You and your friends have had enough.” Salustio hesitated as he rethought his options, considering her confidence. He was sure she didn’t have the balls to push her authority, but when she did, it threw him. Danica pushed him. This needed to be done and over with. She was tired of waiting. “Stop acting like a child and clean up your mess. It’s not like we have hospitals anymore. If someone cuts themselves and it gets infected, are you going to take care of them?” Salustio’s look of defiance turned to rage. Just as he had made a show of taking the bottle, he made a show as he strutted closer.
“And what if I don’t, little sister,” he said mockingly, looking at Toscana. “Are you going to run and tell your daddy? Oh, that’s right, you can’t. He’s dead. There is no one for you to run and cry to.” He turned and looked back at the men who were drinking with him and gave them a smirk. To their credit, they didn’t smirk back. They looked like they wanted to find a place to hide.
Danica punched him in the jaw. He fell to the ground and spit out blood. A tooth was likely to follow in a few days. It was a low blow, but Danica didn’t care. He deserved it for talking about her father. However, she couldn’t press her advantage. She had to allow Salustio time to recover and then beat him; otherwise, it wouldn’t be a clear victory, and he would challenge her again. She wanted this settled tonight.
“Talk about my father again,” she said, leaning over him, “and I’ll cut your throat.”
She moved back as Salustio got to his feet. He spit out more blood and grinned. Salustio roughly removed his shirt revealing dozens of gangland tattoos covering his muscular upper body. Reaching into the small of his back, he pulled an eight-inch serrated knife changing the dynamics of the confrontation.
“Salustio put the knife away,” Toscana demanded.
“You want to cut my throat, bitch?” he raged, taking a step toward Danica. “How about I cut those nubs you call tits off, first?”
“You heard Toscana,” Ruiz said, pulling out his pistol. He kept the weapon at his side as if pointing it would force him to kill Salustio. “Put the knife away, or I’ll shoot you myself.”
“Then shoot me,” he shouted waving the knife in the air. “I’m gutting this bitch.” Salustio staggered, and Danica could tell he was drunk. He probably wouldn’t have confronted her otherwise. Because Salustio had too much to drink, he would be slower and easier to throw off balance, but also harder to hurt. Still, he wasn’t slurring his words, so he wasn’t that drunk. Maybe it was an act. Maybe he wasn’t drunk at all and only pretending as a strategic maneuver. Was he that smart? She didn’t think so.
“I’m tired of taking orders from this cunt,” Salustio said as he punched the air with the tip of the knife toward her. Salustio twirled around to face Toscana and almost fell over. “Look at this place. It’s fucking Disney Land compared to where we’re from. She’s had it easy her whole life.” He turned and glared back at Danica. “What are you, twenty-one, twenty-two? Fuck, you’re still wet behind the ears. You have no clue what it’s like to live on the street.” He shouted at everyone. “She’s no leader. We’ll all be dead by winter. People are going to roll in here, kill us and take our shit because that’s what people do.” Danica would have told him she wasn’t even eighteen, but she didn’t want to give him any more confidence than the tequila already provided. Toscana turned and walked into the house.
“Holster that weapon,” Danica said, pointing at Ruiz. “No guns. This isn’t the Wild West. I don’t want any of the children getting hurt. Ruiz did as she commanded but kept his hand on the butt of the weapon, ready to pull it at a moment’s notice. “Salustio, right now, all your due is an ass-kicking and a little embarrassment, but if you attack me with that knife, I’ll either kill you or banish you. Either way, you’re done here. It’s your choice. There will be no turning back.”
If Salustio were sober, he might have backed down, but the alcohol, while not enough to completely impair his judgment, was enough to give him the confidence to believe that he could beat an unarmed girl. Decision made, he brought the knife up and advanced. Toscana ran up behind Danica and handed Danica her fighting sticks. Salustio looked at Toscana with a look of disbelief and betrayal. She drew herself up straighter and looked him square in the eye.
“Do not look at me like that, Salustio,” Toscana said. “You don’t have to do this. Look around you. These people aren’t your enemy, and this isn’t our old neighborhood. How often have we talked about wanting to live in a place like this? Well, here we are. No one is looking down on us, and it’s not kill or be killed anymore, at least not here. It’s just survival. Put the knife away and stop this foolishness.” Toscana could see she failed to reach him. His heart was hardened into the path of violence, and she knew he wouldn’t back down. He could not change. It was part of the reason she was drawn to Ruiz. “Fine. Win or lose I, want nothing more to do with you.” She walked away.
Danica stood up straight, looking almost like a matador facing a desperate bull. She smacked the sticks together in front of her once, as if signaling the start of the first round of battle, but mostly to focus Salustio’s attention on her. She slowly moved to his right and began to circle him like a wolf circling prey. Salustio followed her movements, crouching low, knife raised, waiting for her to attack. He was content to let her come to him. Instead, she continued to circle him clicking her sticks together at random intervals. When he moved a step forward, she reversed directions and brought her sticks up into a ready position. When he didn’t advance, she clacked her sticks together over and over.
After a few moments, he finally lunged and nearly tripped over himself. Danica dropped back a step, blocked the clumsy knife thrust with one stick and followed up with the other in a blow that glanced off his jaw. The blow startled him and sent him backward, so she missed with the follow-up strike with her stronger hand, brushing his nose just hard enough to bring tears to his eyes. Had the blow been solid, the fight would have been over. As he staggered back, he slashed outward awkwardly to keep her from closing in on him. Danica began to circle him again, striking her sticks together.
As he wiped water from his eyes, he turned back and staggered into a quick rush that caught her off guard. Danica backpedaled as he slashed at her side, scoring a bone-deep cut to her left arm. Screaming, she dropped one of her sticks. Pressing his advantage, Salustio moved toward her, forcing her up against a tree. Believing he had her, Salustio smiled in triumph as he brought up the knife. Expecting her to use her remaining stick to block his thrust, he was caught unaware by the kick to his chest that sent him flying. By the time Salustio recovered, Danica had reclaimed her sticks. Bleeding from the deep cut, Danica started to circle him again and randomly tap her sticks together.
Knowing she needed to end the fight before she passed out from blood loss, on the third tap, she rushed forward. He brought up his knife to defend himself, but she blocked, spun around like a defensive lineman trying to get to the quarterback and used the momentum from the spin to bring the stick down hard on his forearm. Bone snapped.
Salustio dropped the knife screaming. Danica offered no quarter. She struck his knee, and as he collapsed to the ground, she followed up with a hit t
o the side of his head, knocking him senseless. Picking up the knife with a grim, slow determination, she straddled Salustio and put the knife under his chin.
“It’s over, Salustio. You lost,” Danica said, through gritted teeth. “In the morning, you’ll pack up your stuff and leave.” The knife tip made it impossible for him to nod his answer.
“I’ll leave.”
“Good,” Danica said, getting off him. She walked to the tree and jabbed the knife into the bark. “Take your knife with you.” She turned to Toscana. “See about his arm. Give him a couple of sleeping of pills to get him through the night. In the morning, give him enough supplies and pain meds for two days.”
“He can wait,” Toscana said, cradling her arm. “We need to patch you up first. That cut is deep.”
Picking up Salustio’s T-shirt, Toscana used it to wrap Danica’s arm.
Just as she was about to lead Danica into the house, one of the sentry runners rushed up. “Miss Justice, there’s a group of armed men headed this way.”
CHAPTER 33
“You know the drill, Toscana,” Danica said. “Get the women and children inside.” It was a practiced precaution only implemented once previously two weeks earlier when a group of four armed men had passed through on their way north. They ended up spending the night and left the next morning without incident. Many were wary of the group, but it showed everyone that just because a group was armed didn’t mean they were evil. Everyone walked around armed these days. At the same time, it didn’t mean things couldn’t go sideways.
“Your arm needs stitching up,” Toscana said as she cradled Danica’s arm.
