by Harley Tate
All wore street clothes of various shades of black and gray and none sported an obvious weapon. They could have been anywhere from twenty to forty. Lainey couldn’t be sure. The big, silent type sported tattoos over both forearms, but from the distance they could have been anything from Disney characters to broken skulls.
Owen crawled past Bear, shoving the fluffy dog toward Lainey as he fell into the passenger seat. “What are they doing?” He practically panted as he scrunched down to spy on the men via the side mirror. “Are they looking to come after us?”
“I don’t think so. Right now, they’re just standing around.” Were they nosy neighbors? Something more sinister? Lainey couldn’t be sure. “I can’t tell if they’re arguing or what.”
“Should we go inside?”
Lainey shook her head. “We need to wait for Keith. We’re the lookouts, remember?”
“I feel more like sitting ducks.”
Lainey palmed the steering wheel, about to honk again, when the side door to Jerry’s house opened and Keith emerged. He motioned for them to come inside with a sweep of his hand and Owen practically threw the passenger door open in relief.
As soon as the door to the house shut behind them, Keith locked it. “Is it only the three of them?”
“From what I can tell.” Lainey held Bear’s leash as he sniffed the new surroundings. He strained to nose the couch and Lainey eased forward to let him. “I couldn’t get a good look from inside the van.”
Jerry split the miniblinds with his fingers and peered out the living room window. “They’re too far away for a solid ID, but one might be my neighbor’s kid. Real bad attitude, that one.”
“Any weapons?” Keith moved toward the other window, taking a position near the front door.
“The one in the hoodie kept messing with the pocket. Might have a gun or a knife in there. I couldn’t tell.” Lainey perched on the edge of the ruined couch while Bear continued his inspection of the microfiber. The place had been trashed. She bent to pick a magazine off the floor and set it on the coffee table. “Who did all this?”
“No idea.” Jerry answered without turning around.
“What about the truck?” asked Owen. “Why didn’t they take it?”
Jerry patted his front pocket. “I had the only keys.”
“Do you think we should leave?”
“No.” Keith stepped away from the window. “We can’t let whoever did this chase us out. We’d planned to come here, regroup, and hammer out a plan to make it to Chicago. That shouldn’t change. For all we know, the people who did this are long gone.”
“Or they’re standing in the street right now figuring out what to do with us.” Owen paced the only clear area of floor in front of the fireplace. “If they have weapons—”
“We do, too.” Keith turned back to the window, face set in a conversation-ending grimace.
Lainey didn’t know what to think. On the one hand, whoever broke in probably already took off with anything of value. On the other, they might not want Jerry and a bunch of newcomers sniffing around their handiwork. Lainey exhaled in a huff. She hated indecision.
“Looks like they’re leaving.” Jerry pulled back from the window and the blinds snapped into place. He stared out at the destruction of his home. “Anyone want to help me clean up? We can see if whoever did this left anything of value.”
“At least this time we’re not mopping bodily fluids off the floor.” Owen shuddered.
Keith tilted his head. “If memory serves, you didn’t exactly contribute to that cause.”
“I don’t like gore, so sue me.” Owen held up hands. “But I can organize like nobody’s business.” He marched over to the mess of cables and DVD cases strewn about the living room. “You care how we put things away?”
“Just do the best you can.” Jerry sounded resigned to the situation. “As long as we end up with places to sleep tonight, I’m happy.”
“You think we can sleep here?” Lainey hated the sound of fear in her voice. “Is that really a good idea?”
“We can take turns on watch.” Keith closed the distance between them and took Bear’s leash. “Let me take him out before we get started.”
“Keep him out of the kitchen. Too much broken glass.” Jerry turned to Lainey. “Want to help me get it back in working order?”
She nodded and followed him into the small galley space. Broken dishes, glasses, and more than a few drawer contents littered the floor. Cabinets hung open, drawers tipped at dangerous angles. It looked like a scene from a movie. “Please tell me they left you some garbage bags.”
“One can hope.”
It took all afternoon to bring the small house back into a livable condition, but by nightfall, Jerry deemed his house clean enough. They gathered in the living room, sitting on the ripped-up couch and a pair of chairs from the dining room, as they munched on a few meager snacks.
Jerry held a notepad and a pen in his hand. “According to our inventory, we’ve got enough food for about a week thanks to what we brought from the convenience store and The Home Depot. What do we think about the water supply up here?”
“How far are we from downtown?” Lainey asked.
“Fourteen miles, give or take.”
“Different watershed management?”
Jerry nodded.
Lainey chewed on her lip as she thought it over. “I’d say we boil it to be on the safe side. I wouldn’t expect there to be any radiation, but—”
“If the water filtration system is down, then it could be contaminated with bacteria or parasites. Any number of nasties.” Keith leaned back in his chair. “But I don’t see why we can’t shower with it.”
“What about weapons?”
“They found the shotgun and the rifle, but I squirreled away a box of 5.56 in the footbed of my truck. Should still be there.”
“But we don’t have anything to shoot it with,” complained Owen.
Jerry shrugged. “Doesn’t mean we won’t in the future.”
“That leaves the pistol,” Keith motioned at the gun sitting on the coffee table between them. “It’s got a full magazine, fifteen rounds.”
“Don’t forget the pipe. Works better than a baseball bat any day.”
Lainey shifted on the couch. Never did she think she would be sitting in a new friend’s house, assessing a food and weapon inventory in a suburb of Los Angeles. She almost laughed out loud.
Keith shot her a look and she opened her mouth to respond when a knock sounded on the door. Bear scrambled up from his resting place in front of Keith, instantly on alert.
Jerry reached for the gun, holding it low in his right hand as he approached the door. “Who is it?”
“It’s Bill from next door. Saw the van, just wanted to make sure you’re all right.”
Jerry frowned and turned back to everyone. He whispered to Lainey, “Where are the flashlights?”
She rushed to the kitchen and came back holding a mini-flashlight from the warehouse in her hand. He took it and motioned for her and the rest of the group to hide out of sight.
Once they were clear, Jerry opened the door. “Hey, Bill. It’s good to see you.”
The other man spoke, but Lainey couldn’t make out the words. She held her breath, concentrating on the conversation.
“I’m not sure, but I appreciate the concern.” Jerry sounded polite, almost jovial in his response.
The conversation continued, but Lainey couldn’t parse it out. After a few minutes, the door shut and Jerry gave the all clear.
“So?” Keith strode back into the living room, hands on hips.
“Bill claims he doesn’t know who broke in, but I don’t believe him. There’s no way he didn’t see someone.”
“Has he been here the whole time?”
Jerry nodded. “Guy’s retired. He’s the neighbor who’s always in everyone’s business. If he was home, he saw them.”
“So, he’s covering for someone?”
“Maybe.”
Jerry rubbed his face. “Or he’s scared. Like I said before, guy across from us has a kid that’s always up to no good. Got popped a while back for breaking into cars and stealing loose change, that sort of thing. Somebody had him on camera.”
“Now that the cameras don’t work—”
“He could have upped his game.” Jerry thought it over. “If I had to bet, I’d say Bill was scared.”
Lainey made her way back over to the couch and sat down. They had already trapped themselves in a closed courthouse for three days waiting out the worst of the nuclear fallout. Now they were sitting around Jerry’s house, worried about robbers who might come back and finish the job.
She pressed her fingertips to her eyelids and let the cool pressure soak into her skin. “What should we do? I hate to run, but we don’t know what we’re up against.”
Keith responded first. “We should be proactive. Get out there and figure out who the guy is scared of and maybe get Jerry’s stuff back in the process.”
“Are you serious?” Owen sounded incredulous. “I vote to pack up and leave before whoever tore this place apart decides they want a van, too.”
“He has a point.” Jerry sat in a dining room chair and leaned over, resting his elbows on his knees. “We don’t have any idea what or who we’re up against here. It could be more than we can handle.”
Lainey dropped her hands in her lap. As scared as she was, running didn’t sit right with her. She thought about all they’d gone through to break the bomb story. “Before the explosion, we broke into the Consul General’s home, we snuck on air at KTLA, we even tried to get info from the FBI.”
“That was before,” Owen insisted. “We’re in a different world now. You read the news reports, you know what we’re up against.”
“Is it different? Really? Armed guards weren’t a deterrent before. I don’t see why a couple of guys lurking about and a scared neighbor should stop us now.”
“What’s the point? Jerry’s stuff is gone. We should be, too.”
Keith eased down onto the couch next to Lainey. “What do you have in mind?”
Lainey turned to face him. “We can do some reconnaissance. When it’s pitch black outside, we can go snooping. See if we find anyone who looks like they’ve been busy stealing supplies.”
“The chances of us finding anything is slim.”
“You’d rather just sit around and wait for them to come back or run away and forget all about the food and weapons?”
“And the camping gear, batteries, and all the other things they stole.” Jerry clasped his hands in front of him as he thought it over. “Lainey’s got a point. We don’t have to engage, but if we poke around, we might find a stash.”
“Or get ourselves killed.” Owen shook his head. “I don’t like it at all.”
Keith held up his hands. “No one is saying not to be cautious or rush into anything. But I agree. It doesn’t hurt to take a few hours to investigate. If we find a viable suspect, we can regroup.”
“And if we don’t?” Owen crossed his arms and glowered.
“Then it’s up to Jerry.”
“If we don’t find anything, then we can leave. It’ll be a hard road without my supplies, but it won’t be impossible.” Jerry stood. “I can be ready in five.”
“No.” Keith stood as well. “Lainey and I can go. You should stay here with Bear.”
“But—”
Keith held up a hand. “What if another neighbor shows up and you’re not home?”
Jerry frowned. “You shouldn’t be sticking your neck out for me.”
“If the situation were reversed, you’d do the same.”
After a moment, Jerry conceded. “Fine. But be careful.” He leaned toward Lainey. “First sign of a problem, come back here. Don’t get yourself killed for me.”
Fear and adrenaline mixed in Lainey’s body and she nodded. “Deal.”
Chapter Seventeen
KEITH
Outside Jerry’s Residence
Altadena, CA
Wednesday, 9:00 p.m. PST
Keith hunkered down beside the carport belonging to Jerry’s next-door neighbor. Thanks to the thieves leaving Jerry’s clothes behind, both Keith and Lainey sported all-black outfits.
During the daytime, they would look ridiculous. Lainey in a sweatshirt four sizes too big and Keith wearing pants and button down better suited for someone twice his age. But at night, all that mattered was the color.
Lainey tucked her hair beneath her hood and leaned close enough to whisper. “I don’t see any activity.”
Keith didn’t either. As far as he could tell, Bill had gone to sleep. With no lights inside from a lantern, candle, or flashlight, they couldn’t find out much more than what Jerry had already sussed out in his conversation.
“I don’t think Bill’s our guy. He was too nervous. Jerry said he was as skittish as a deer.”
Lainey pointed across the street. “Then we should hit up that house next. The kid who lives there, what did Jerry say his name was?”
“Andrew. Right?”
Lainey nodded. “That’s the one. If he was willing to rifle through cars before the bombs, who knows what he’ll do now. My money’s on him.”
Keith agreed. After a few moments spent creeping toward the street, the pair took off, darting across the narrow road and up the driveway of the neighbor’s house. A wood privacy fence blocked off the backyard and Keith reached for the gate’s handle.
Hinges screeched as he pushed the gate open and Keith winced, waiting for some sign of recognition inside the house. Without the usual hum of air-conditioning units to drown out every chirp of an insect or snap of a twig, they might as well be using a megaphone. Even the smallest sounds amplified.
They waited, Keith counting to twenty in his mind, before pressing on into the backyard. Like Jerry’s house, the neighbor’s place occupied a tiny spit of land with the backyard holding not much more than a patio with a portable fire pit and a couple of lawn chairs. They crept up to the sliding door of the house and Keith squinted into the dark.
Is that—? As recognition hit, he rushed back and brought his finger to his lips. The sliding glass door stood open, with only a screen separating the house from the backyard. Lainey nodded beside him. Any wrong move and whoever was inside would hear them for sure.
Keith hugged the stucco exterior wall, inching forward. His foot squished on something soft and he bent down to investigate. Cigarette butts. A sizeable pile of them right outside the door. Someone had a massive smoking habit.
As he stood up, a faint sound pricked his ears. Creak-creak. Creak-creak. Was it someone walking? No, too even. An insect? No, not natural. He closed his eyes. The noise reminded him of something... His grandfather’s house as a kid. The recliner.
He opened his eyes. Was someone inside? Keith swallowed and leaned forward, risking a glimpse into the dark of the house. Sure enough, a small amber glow swayed back and forth in the darkness in time to the noise. Someone sat in the dark of the living room like his grandfather used to do, rocking in a recliner and smoking.
He motioned to Lainey to turn around and they backtracked the way they came, out the gate and onto the sidewalk. Only then did Keith release his breath.
“What did you see?”
Keith relayed the information. “I don’t think the kid is home. What kid would sit by himself smoking in the dark?”
“Especially when faced with the end of the world,” Lainey offered. “My guess is he’s out in the neighborhood with his friends, up to no good.”
“Then we need to find them.”
They searched house by house and yard by yard, trying in vain to uncover any evidence of the robbers. Hours ticked by as they canvassed the neighborhood.
Lainey yawned beside Keith as they stood under the cover of a live oak five blocks from Jerry’s house. “We’re never going to find them.”
Keith hated to agree, but he couldn’t deny their search so far hadn’t yielded any resul
ts. “Maybe we’re off base to assume it’s someone from the neighborhood.”
“Then why would Bill be so scared? If it was random he’d be over it by now and giving Jerry the play-by-play.”
“We don’t know that for sure,” Keith hedged. “He could be a real worrier.”
Lainey poked him in the side. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Then what do you suggest? It’s already the middle of the night. I vote to bag it and try again after we sleep for a few hours.”
“Let’s just eliminate this block,” Lainey pleaded. “I’ve got a feeling we’re close.”
Keith lacked the energy to argue so they took off, poking their heads in backyards and peering through open windows. As they approached a house hidden from the road by a line of bushes, Keith grabbed Lainey’s arm. “You hear that?”
She paused to listen. “Is that a radio?”
“Sure sounds like it.”
Together they crept toward the house, easing around a collection of parked cars. The closer they came, the clearer the music. A thundering bass, screaming lyrics, claps of drums. Death metal, by the sound of it. Keith stilled. Who listened to death metal at three in the morning? Teenagers.
“This might be it.”
Lainey pulled her hoodie down over her hair and shrugged into the gloom. “I think they’re in the backyard. I smell smoke.”
“It isn’t cigarettes, that’s for sure.” He wrinkled his nose. “Let’s get closer.”
They lapsed into silence once more as Keith led them past the front of the house and on into the neighbor’s yard. Thanks to a broken gate, they crept into the backyard of the house next door without making a sound. The place had seen better days. Trash piled up, overflowing the city bin. A broken plastic dog house lay forgotten in the corner. Did anyone even live here?
Laughter rose up from the yard next door. Maybe they moved. I wouldn’t blame them. Keith stepped closer to the fence, searching for a loose knot in the wood or a gap wide enough to see through. Halfway down, he spied a missing chunk and crouched to get a better view.
