A Tearful Reunion

by Darrell Maloney

  “So what’s this all about, young lady?” Sal called up to Beth. “You getting all grown up now? Big enough to drive the team?”

  He winked at Dave.

  “Yes, sir, Grandpa Sal. I’ve been driving for the last two hours all by myself. And I haven’t had any trouble at all.”

  “Want to take the reins?” Dave asked.

  “No sense fixing something that ain’t broken. If she’s handling the team okay, might as well let her continue. I’ll switch out with you though, if you’ve a mind to. You’ve been on that wooden bench all night long, you’re probably ready to get some sleep.”

  “Maybe I’ll nap a bit. What I’m really ready to do is get off this bench for awhile. It’s not the most comfortable thing after fourteen hours.”

  “Then step down, young fella.”

  Before he climbed aboard Sal went to the horses and checked them.

  “These two seem to be holding up better than any of us.”

  Dave said, “They look like sturdy stock. I was worried they might injure themselves hauling this load up that grade, but they came through it with flying colors.”

  “My brother Benny… I wish you had a chance to meet him. He selected these from his herd. Said they were the best he had. Said they could tow the moon if I could figure out a way to lasso it.”

  “No doubt.”

  “How much farther you want to go, Dave?”

  “It’s about eight now. I’d like to go another hour, then start looking for some shade.”

  “Shade’s pretty sparse in this part of the country.”

  “I know. I figure if we haven’t found a shady spot by ten we’ll stop anyway. No sense pushing the horses in the hottest part of the day, even if they are sturdy.

  “We passed a billboard about half an hour ago. It advertised a place called the Countryside Inn three miles ahead. I’m guessing we might be able to find some shade there. Maybe even some rooms where we can all get some good sleep too.”

  Beth asked, “Do you think they’re open, Daddy?”

  She immediately wished she hadn’t asked.

  “Oh, never mind, I guess that was a stupid question.”

  Part of a father’s job is to keep his children from being down on themselves.

  “No it wasn’t, honey. Eventually the world is going to get back to normal again. Eventually companies are going to figure out ways to get things running again. I mean, look at your Grandpa Sal. He figured out a way to get his truck running. Eventually other smart people will figure out ways to make things work again. Then the supermarkets will reopen. Cars will be running and people will be driving again. Then the hotels and the motels will open up too.

  “Someday, I’m sure, the Countryside Inn will be open for business.

  “Who knows? Maybe it’ll even happen today. I sure would like to go for a swim in a real-life swimming pool, wouldn’t you?”

  “Oh boy, would I!”

  “Just don’t get your hopes up, okay?”

  “Okay, Daddy, I won’t.”

  She paused and then said, “And Daddy?”

  “Yes, honey?”

  “Thank you for not making me feel like a dummy.”

  Sal interjected, “Have y’all seen anything resembling game?”

  “An occasional rabbit. I was tempted to take a shot at one but didn’t know if the horses would spook. Didn’t want to chance it.”

  “They won’t. Benny fired several shots from the bench when we hooked them up at the ranch the first time. They didn’t flinch.

  “I’m pretty sure it was because they’ve been taken on hunts many times in the past.”

  “Daddy, tell him about the road runner.”

  Dave said, “Oh. There was a roadrunner that kept running up the highway in front of us for about a couple of miles. He kept stopping and waiting for us to catch up with him. Then he’d take off again.

  “Finally he decided we weren’t going to speed up and he became a road walker instead.”

  “Then,” Beth finished for him, “something spooked him and he ran off into the bushes.”

  “Well, it’s nice to know the horses won’t spook,” Dave said. “I’m not really that sleepy. I think I’m going to sit back there and watch out for any rabbits that cross the highway behind us. Maybe we can have one for breakfast.”

  Beth pleaded with him, “If the roadrunner comes back, don’t shoot him, Daddy.”

  “I won’t honey, I promise.”

  As it turned out he didn’t shoot any rabbits either.

  Once off the bench and on the mattress it took him no time at all to get sleepy.

  After twenty minutes he was out like a light.

  While Dave slept Sal told Beth one of his tall tales about the time he shot a bucket of fried chicken.

  He regaled her for several minutes, telling her how the chicken was one step ahead of him for most of the day. But alas, it was the biggest bucket of fried chicken anyone had shot that season, and the best anyone could recall tasting.

  She patiently listened to him before getting bored and telling him, “I haven’t been two for six years. Nice try, Bucko.”

  An hour later Sal helped Beth steer the team into the parking lot of the Countryside Inn.

  “Looks like this was once a pretty impressive place,” Sal told her.

  It was a group of about twenty old style lodges which had been there since the days when this was Route 66.

  Despite its age, though, the lodges seemed to be well maintained. They appeared to have been repainted not long before the power went out, as the paint was still vibrant and barely faded by the desert sun.

  Each of the lodges had its own covered carport, and Sal eased the team beneath one.

  “I guess this will have to do for shade,” he said.

  Beth looked around. Sure enough, all the trees were dead or in the last throes of life.

  In a desert environment any non-native trees have to be watered on a regular basis or they don’t live for long.

  When the rocking, creaking rig came to a stop Dave woke up and looked around.

  “Hey! Looks like we have the place all to ourselves!”

  Sal said, “Fancy that. I’m hungry. Are you guys ready for breakfast?”

  “I’m famished,” Dave said. “What do y’all want? We have Ramen noodles with beef flavor, Ramen noodles with chicken flavor or Ramen noodles with pork flavor. Take your pick.”

  “No way, Daddy. You promised me macaroni and cheese.”

  “I did?”

  She put her hands on her hips.

  “You certainly did!”

  “Well then, forget the Ramen noodles. You can have macaroni and cheese with cheese or you can have macaroni and cheese with no cheese.”

  “Ewww.”

  “Okay, cheese it is.”

  Chapter 26

  Finding firewood was easy. Dave merely went to one of the dead elm trees and broke off a low hanging branch, then broke it into pieces.

  Dried grass was plentiful and provided the tinder, and he had a roaring fire in minutes.

  Over the fire went a collapsible iron pot stand, and Dave was ready to do some cooking.

  “I need to watch this,” Sal said. “I want to find out if what you said was true, or if you’re just pulling my leg.”

  “Oh, it’s true, it’s true,” Dave said. “You can make delicious macaroni and cheese from box to table in fifteen minutes, with no butter, no milk and without wasting a single drop of water.”

  Sal was still skeptical.

  “Sorry to doubt you, my friend. But I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  “Then watch and learn, my friend. Watch and learn. It’s easy if you know how to do it.”

  He poured two boxes of boxed macaroni and cheese into the pot, then poured water to about half an inch above the top of the macaroni.

  “The trick is to stir it constantly so it doesn’t stick to the pot. Even after the water starts to boil, keep stirring.

  “Wha
t will happen is the water will start to boil, and some of it will boil away. But most of it is being absorbed into the macaroni.

  “Keep a close eye on the water, and when it’s about gone take the pot off the fire and use a fork to stab a noodle.

  “Let it cool for a minute and eat it. You’re not testing it for flavor, because it won’t have much. You’re testing it for texture.

  “Hopefully it’s soft enough to eat. If it’s still too hard, add a bit more water and repeat the process. Let the water cook away or be absorbed into the noodles, then take the pot from the fire and eat another noodle.

  “When the noodles are soft enough to eat, add one third of a cup of vegetable oil for each box and the powdered cheese that came in the box. The oil takes the place of the milk and the butter. And it’s pretty good eatin’ if I say so myself.”

  “How about we’ll be the judge of that,” Sal said while winking at little Beth.

  He produced some paper plates from one of the boxes in the truck bed.

  He scooped some out onto a plate and used a plastic fork to sample it.

  “Oh, this is pretty good,” he said.

  “It’s a bit more oily than the milk and butter version,” Dave said. “But it’s still pretty tasty. And the thing is, it’s shelf stable. It’ll last for years and still be good enough to eat.

  “The only thing to watch is the powdered cheese. The packets aren’t completely moisture proof. They look like they are, but they’re not. After a couple of years the cheese will turn dark and will harden into a block. It’s still edible, but you have to crush it back into a powder first.”

  Sal was impressed and marveled, “The things you learn from a prepper…”

  “That’s the thing with most preppers,” Dave said. “Most of them are isolationists, sure. But they’re more than willing to share their tips if you just ask them.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. Their thinking is if they can teach their neighbor how to fend for himself and survive on his own that’s one less person he has to worry about coming after his stuff when the world goes to hell.”

  Dave looked sheepishly at Beth.

  “I’m sorry, honey. I’m trying to stop using that word now that you’re with me.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about it, Daddy. Mommy uses it at least ten times a day.”

  Sal asked Beth, “What do you think about the macaroni and cheese, child? It’s quite good, isn’t it?”

  “Oh yes. But I already knew how good it was. I was always Daddy’s goober pig.”

  “Goober pig?”

  “Yes. When Daddy was experimenting with drying out food or trying to figure out how to make stuff so he could put it all away, he used to let me taste it to see if I liked it.”

  “Oh. You mean a Guinea pig.”

  “No, silly. A Guinea pig is a pet. I had one. His name was Elvis on account of he had a streak of black hair on top of his head.”

  “Honey, that’s a Guinea pig, yes, but the term is also used…

  “Oh, never mind.”

  Dave smiled.

  Apparently Sal had learned what Dave had known for years.

  That it doesn’t pay to argue with Beth. Sometimes one question leads to another and then to another. Dave knew it could be very frustrating.

  Sometimes it was best just to shake one’s head and agree with Beth, then move on.

  Dave finished his plate first, having wolfed it down, and inspected several of the motel’s rooms.

  All the rooms seemed to be unlocked.

  He wondered whether the manager unlocked them all when he gave up on getting power again and abandoned the motel.

  Perhaps it was a benevolent gesture, so he could provide free accommodations to any travelers who happened by.

  There weren’t a lot of highway nomads in this part of the country because of its desert environment. But perhaps the manager knew there would be a few.

  Or perhaps he unlocked the doors for his own reasons.

  Perhaps he reasoned that if he didn’t unlock them the nomads would kick in the doors to gain access.

  And if the power was ever restored and he returned he’d have an awful lot of damage to contend with.

  Either way, it didn’t matter.

  They were typical travel court bungalows. They only had windows on one side of the room, so there was nothing to draw air in to circulate it.

  The desert typically gets very cool at night, and sleeping in the rooms at night might have been comfortable.

  But in the daytime, with absolutely no air circulation, they were just stifling hot.

  It was better to sleep outside.

  And so it was that the shade of the carports, coupled with an occasional breeze, made for relative comfort when the trio bedded down for the day.

  Beth lay upon her mattress in the bed of the truck under one carport.

  Dave and Sal bedded down on mattresses Dave brought out from one of the rooms and placed under an adjacent carport.

  The horses, tied together with fifty feet of rope, were allowed to graze on grass behind the hotel, in what was once a picnic area.

  The grass there was once lush and green, having been watered every day to protect it from the killer heat.

  When the power went out and the well pump no longer worked it continued to grow in the moderate spring days until the lack of water finally killed the roots.

  But it was still there for the taking.

  Not quite as juicy as hay, but not too bad for hungry horses that’d tired of chewing on sagebrush and weeds.

  It wasn’t the best of accommodations.

  It wasn’t a Hilton or even a Holiday Inn.

  But it was reasonably comfortable, and after having traveled nonstop for fifteen hours it wasn’t bad.

  Chapter 27

  “I want you to understand something,” Parker told Sarah when they found themselves alone at the back part of the bunker.

  “Manson doesn’t speak for me when he says you ladies are to provide for us in every way.

  “He doesn’t speak for all of the men either. Some of the men will expect you to perform sexual favors. Others won’t. My advice to you is to find one of the men who is decent and will not ask you to do anything you’re not comfortable with. Then convince him you’re falling for him. Make him think you’re in love with him and then he can tell the others to back off.”

  “I’m not sure I can do that. I’m a married woman.”

  “You mean a widow.”

  “No. The men you killed were no relation to me. They were just friends.”

  “Then where is your husband?”

  “When the blackout happened we weren’t together. I flew here with my girls for a wedding. He stayed behind in San Antonio.”

  It wasn’t a lie. Not technically, anyway.

  And that was a good thing, for Sarah was a lousy liar. Unlike many people, she didn’t do it often enough to be good at it.

  “You said girls. How many did you have?”

  “Two. You’ve already met Lindsey. My youngest, Beth… she’s gone.”

  Also not a lie.

  Not technically, anyway.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “What about Karen? What is that savage going to do to her?”

  “See if you can get word to her. “Tell her not to fight his advances. If she fights him she’ll be beaten severely. He can be a very brutal man when he doesn’t get his way.”

  “That’s a very difficult position to put her in, asking her to give in to him sexually to save her own life. What kind of animals are you men, anyway?”

  Her anger subsided as quickly as it flared up.

  “I’m sorry. I know you’re trying to help make a bad situation better. And I appreciate that you’re not going to force me into anything. But damn it, she’s my sister. I’ve got to do something to help her.”

  “Then let me finish. And yes, I am trying to help.

  “Do you have any liquor?”

>   “Yes. The Dykes have a pretty good stock of whiskey and tequila in the supply room.”

  “The Dykes?”

  “The men you massacred. They were all brothers. They were decent men, every one of them. They didn’t deserve to be murdered.”

  “I won’t debate with you the morality of our attack on your bunker. I won’t ask for your forgiveness. I’ll just say the world is a vastly different place than it was two years ago.

  “These days people take what they want at the end of a gun. In many ways we’re returned to the days of the wild wild west.

  “The guy with the biggest gun and the most ammunition wins.

  “Sorry to put it so bluntly, but that’s the way it is in the modern world.”

  “I don’t like the so-called modern world you describe. And I’m not so sure I believe you either. There are decent men still out there. Good men. Men who accept that they have to make sacrifices and who try to help others. Not hurt them.”

  “As I said, I’m not going to debate with you about the ways of the post-apocalyptic world. And if there are any good men out there, as you call them, I haven’t seen any lately.”

  She was tempted to mention Dave.

  She was tempted to tell him that Dave had always been her knight in shining armor, and that the blackout hadn’t changed that.

  But she thought better of it.

  “Get word to your sister that Scarface has a love of whiskey. He loves it more than any woman. If she can keep him drunk the last thing he’ll think to do is to abuse her sexually. He’ll still be verbally abusive and may slap her around every now and then. But at least he won’t rape her.

  Chapter 28

  Karen could have thanked him for the tip.

  Instead she asked, “And what about Kara?”

  “I chose Kara to be my mistress not to abuse her but to protect her.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “She’s the youngest and most likely to be abused. She’s also probably the least likely to be able to handle it. By choosing her as my mistress the others will leave her alone.

  “So will I. But the others won’t know that.”

  She paused.