Fire From the Sky: Friendly Fire

by N. C. Reed

  Her children had been difficult at first, wanting television and movie discs and other conveniences that she could no longer give them, but gradually the two had realized that the hardships they were enduring were not going to go away. Adaptable as children always seemed to be, the two had changed with the times, working to help their mother and playing games that didn't require electricity or batteries. They worked hard during the day so that at night they would be tired and sleep while it was dark, all of them bundled up on a mattress in the floor near the stove. Lamp oil, candles and flashlight batteries were too precious to waste on just having light for the sake of light, so when darkness came they went to bed and when light returned, they were up and ready to go again.

  They had endured the winter like that, Dottie stretching her stored food further and further as time went on. That had been a smart move on her part and though they had been hungry, they hadn't starved. She wondered silently how many had done just that, starving as the stores ran dry. She would again give silent thanks for the lessons drilled into her by her mother and grandmother. Without them, her children would be dead.

  As spring had approached she had hoped things would be better, not stopping to think that spring would bring blooms but not food. Though she had managed to gather some berries and a few apples, many of the places she would have done so had no doubt been burned and would be a half-day or better walk even without two small children. She would have to make do with what she could find, little thought it was.

  She and her children had been outside in a rare moment of inactivity, her taking the time to spend with them and play, when she heard the sound of engines. It had been so quiet for so long, and the noise so foreign to her now, that she had missed it at first and then, when she did hear it, hadn't realized what it was. Seeing the military vehicles come into view, she had taken her children by the shoulder, watching.

  There was no point in running, nor in grabbing her husband's rifle. She was under no illusion as to what she could do against such a threat. Better to try and placate than to risk the lives of her children.

  She had watched the three vehicles approaching, alarmed at the machine gun atop the truck in front and the black dressed, masked man behind it. Tensing as the vehicles slowed and then stopped with the lead vehicle right before her, she barely noticed that the big gun didn't swing her way but instead stayed pointed forward. It wasn't as if a woman and two kids were a threat, right?

  She gripped her children slightly tighter as a man wearing the same horrible mask stepped slowly down from the truck, carefully standing to the side. Whatever was going to happen would happen now, wouldn't it. She would see what that was.

  But she hadn't been prepared for this.

  “Ma'am.”

  ***

  “Well, you seem to be okay if a little short,” Tandi winked as he gave the two children three pieces of candy each. Both took them at once, but then each took one and offered it to their mother. Tandi thought the woman would cry but she took them, lest she offend her little angels. He carefully took another six pieces of the rock candy and slipped them to her where the kids couldn't see it.

  “Where did you come from?” Dottie asked Shane while Tandi looked over her children. “What's happening in the world? Are the lights going to come back on?”

  “I'm not from around here, Ma'am,” Shane replied to her first question more or less truthfully. “And I really don't know what all is going on around the world to be honest. Since the lights went out there hasn't been any real news. As far as the lights go . . . I don't think so, Ma'am. Not for a long time, anyway. The damage was likely too great.”

  “I assumed as much,” Dottie sighed. “I figured if they were coming back it would have been done by now.”

  “I'm afraid you're right,” Shane nodded. “We've tried to help where and how we can, that's all we can do. It's not much, but we thought every little bit would help.”

  He had told Wilcox to assemble a small box of cans for the woman and children, three cans of veggies apiece and one each of fruits, as well as a generous selection of smoked beef. It was more than the plan called for, but this woman and her children had survived alone and with no contact all winter. A little extra wasn't going to hurt anything in the long run. And no one in the group cared if it did, anyway.

  “I’ll carry this for you,” Shane said as Wilcox brought the supplies forward.

  “Beef,” Wilcox explained as the woman studied the meat. “Don't worry, it's smoked so it will keep. Again, it isn't a lot, but. . . .”

  “It's more than we've had in a good while,” Dottie almost whispered. “Fortunately I had finished canning and we had enough to get through, but things have gotten thin of late. Likely to stay that way until my garden comes in.”

  “Is there anything we can do for you while we're here, Ma'am?” Shane asked. “Work wise I mean?”

  “Not unless you have time to cut and split wood for next winter,” she chuckled. “Well, hopefully for the winter after next. My husband left enough that I think we’ll make it through next winter. We’ll see.”

  “We can't do that today,” Shane agreed. “It's possible we can do something about it later on, though. If we can, we will,” he promised. He set the box on her steps and looked at her.

  “I wish there was more we could do,” he said earnestly. “Hopefully there will be more we can do. We're just starting out, so we have to see what can be done at all, if that makes sense. We do have some limited support, but it's very limited at the moment so all we can do is what we can do. We’ll try and be back this way soon, but I can't tell you just how long that will be. I just don't know,” he admitted.

  “I . . . it's been so long since we've seen anyone else I had wondered if we were all that was left,” she said suddenly. “I don't remember how long ago it was that I last spoke to another person other than my children. That alone was a great gift,” she wiped a sudden tear away. She hadn't allowed herself to cry much since this had started and she wasn't going to start now, either.

  “I understand, Ma'am,” Shane nodded. “I'm sorry we can't stay a bit longer, but we have a long way to go as yet. We will see you again, however, Lord willing and the natives don't rise.”

  “I look forward to it,” Dottie replied honestly. “More than you can imagine.”

  ***

  “Man, that sucked,” Stacey said as they returned to the road.

  “Yep,” Shane was more taciturn than usual.

  “She's had a rough time it seemed like,” Stacey continued.

  “Yep.”

  “You all right, man?” Stacey was concerned about his friend.

  “Peachy.”

  “It ain't our fault, Rat,” Stacey said softly. “We didn't do this.”

  “That makes it all better, don't it,” Shane was looking out the window.

  “No, but it should make you realize that your guilt is misplaced,” Stacey said. “You aren't to blame. Nature did this, brother. If the eggheads was right, this was going to happen sooner or later. It just happened in our time, that's all.”

  “Yeah,” Shane nodded slowly. “That's all.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “Leon, if you don't stop this kind of thing, you're going to end up in the clinic,” Patricia scolded lightly as she finished listening to his lungs. “Your lungs are rattling a bit. Have you been coughing more?” she asked him.

  “Yes, he has,” Janice Hardy answered for him, ignoring the Old Man's glare at what he considered a betrayal. “And coughing up . . . stuff,” she wrinkled her nose.

  “Phlegm you mean?” Patricia asked, growing more concerned.

  “Yes, that's it,” Janice nodded firmly.

  “What color was it?” Patricia asked.

  “White or clear,” the girl replied at once.

  “Always?”

  “Yes,” Janice was rock solid in her answer. “If it had been green or yellow I would have called you,” she promised.

  “Good girl,” P
atricia patted her shoulder. “Leon, I'm not sure what's causing this other than sinus congestion with everything coming into bloom. I'm not going to give you a cough suppressant because coughing it up is the best way to get rid of the congestion. I want you to take it easy for the next five days. That means no wandering and no visitors, either. You need some quiet time to let this run out. What had you so upset, anyway?”

  “Damn Malitha George came into my house and called me a damned heathen!” Leon hissed, still infuriated.

  “What brought that on for goodness sake?” Patricia was all but stunned.

  “She don't like it ‘cause that little heavy woman is working at the orphanage,” he replied.

  “Little . . . Trudy?” Patricia asked.

  “Malitha feels that allowing such a deviant to take care of children is somehow gonna scar them for life or some . . . shit,” Leon waved his hand to note the irrelevancy. “Wanted me to move her somewhere else. Not because she did nothing wrong, but just ‘cause she's a homosexual.”

  “Well, that's illegal,” Patricia said at once. “Or was before everything crashed, anyway,” she added. “I'm surprised at her, being so judgmental as that. Aren't we supposed to be loving and kind, even to those outside the Body?” She was talking about the Body of Christ, the church. It was a teaching that all Sanders tried to live by. Well, mostly.

  “That's what I recollect,” Leon nodded. “To call me a heathen in the very house that Elizabeth, God remember her always, and I brought Gordon and his siblings up in? In the house that as Godly a woman as ever lived raised and taught her children? And me, for that matter,” he added softly. “Was she a man I'd have killed her,” he all but growled. Janice frowned at that but said nothing. She'd never seen Mister Leon like this.

  “Franklin apparently went to see Clayton about it, and got shut down, so she marched over here aiming for me to do it instead,” Leon continued. “I done made it as plain as I can that Clayton is taking the lead around here. Everybody has got their own areas to take care of. You with the clinic, Gordon with the farm, and so on. Clayton manages this outfit. Pretty soon he’ll have to do it without me, so people may as well get used to that. Boy led men in battle, so I reckon he should be able to run this place. Don't you think?” he looked up at his grand-daughter-in-law.

  “I imagine,” she smiled faintly. “You can expect some flack and push back against it from some, I'm sure, but no one at the other farm is going to object and I doubt many on the Hill will, either, Georges aside. I know Gordon and Angela weren't happy about it, the lesbian couple I mean, but they've not said anything in my hearing. Don't know about any others, though I'd expect it to be the older set that gives the most trouble with something like those two women being a couple. Come to think on it, you seem awful open minded, coming from a time when it was so unpopular, for lack of a better word.”

  “Man that wants people to stay out of his business learns to stay out of others business,” Leon told her. “And when I hate folks, I do it for good reasons that affect me or my family. Can't think of a single way them two and their . . . business, is affecting my family. Can you?”

  “No sir, I can't,” Patricia admitted. “It's a sin, but far from the only one around here. And we're taught to hate the sin, not the sinner. You don't win people over to the Gospel with hate or force. I've been taught that all my life.”

  “And rightly so,” Leon nodded firmly. “Callin' me a heathen,” he muttered to himself. He had not been able to release his anger at that.

  “You're not a heathen, Old Man,” Patricia patted his thigh lightly. “Crass, objectionable, hard to get along with, a bit-,”

  “You can quit any time, now,” Leon raised an eyebrow at her and she laughed.

  “Leon, you are in no way, shape nor form a heathen. And no one in this family would think otherwise,” she stood. “You may not be a paragon of Christian virtue, but that's a far cry from being a pagan or atheist. And you hide a lot of good will and benevolence behind that irascible exterior, too.”

  “Pah!” Leon waved her compliment away as if would stick to him. “Stop trying to butter me up! I’ll mind your instructions and sit here quietly. Means I’ll need Brick back, though,” he told her. “Have Clayton send him home, you don't mind. I need someone to block my door or I won't get a minute o' respite.”

  “Doctor's orders,” Patricia nodded, taking her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. “I’ll tell him as soon as I'm back. And Leon, for the love of God, if you start to feel worse, call for me. Day or night, I don't care. If the Lord just takes you, that's one thing. You trying to grease the skids is another. Clay has a lot on him already. Please don't make things harder on him any sooner than need be.”

  “I've already had that lecture, thank you,” Leon snorted. “And it ain't like I'm just trying to die, ya know!”

  “No, you just don't care one way or another if you do,” Patricia replied softly. “But the rest of us do, Old Man. I can't make you, but I can ask you; if for no other reason than to give Clay time, please take better care of yourself or at least let Janice do it. Please.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I’ll mind it,” Leon waved at her as he settled back into his chair. “I will!” he added when she looked at him dubiously.

  “Try to take care of him,” Patricia told Janice as they walked to the door. “I’ll ask Clay to excuse you from radio duty the next couple of days so you can stay with him. Unless you'd rather someone else take care of him?”

  “No,” Janice shook her head and her voice was firm. “No. I will take care of him. Thank you for talking to Mister Clay for me. If he needs me to come work the radio room I'm sure Mrs. Jones can look after him in my absence.”

  “I'd rather you did it,” Patricia confided. “I’ll make sure Clay knows that,” she smiled.

  “Thank you, Miss Patricia.”

  ***

  After leaving the Greer place the small convoy didn't encounter another soul until the edge of Jordan. Both Shane and Stacey expressed surprise at that, but Zach was more familiar with the area.

  “Most of this is either pulp woods or the back of the park,” he told them. “Ain't a handful of houses we passed, and most look abandoned. There just ain't much back this way except fire trails. Great for drinking beer and running off-road, but that's about it.”

  “Speaking from experience, kid?” Stacey asked.

  “Yup,” Zach grinned into his mask as he answered. He was still on the gun and speaking over the radio.

  “Okay. We're easing into Jordan, now,” Zach turned serious. “Damn. Looks like the fire made it part of the way, anyhow,” he added as they passed three burned out houses, a stone and brick chimney still standing at one place.

  “It's sporadic now, though,” Shane mentioned. “See, there are two more houses that are still standing.”

  “And another down on the right,” Zach agreed. “Maybe some of them got into gear and fought. I know the Old Man made sure the fire department had warning, just like the cops did. And at least one truck was rigged right 'cause we took it to fight the fire with. Didn't get it running in time for much but it did save the big barn in the nick of time.”

  “I still don't see nobody,” Stacey mentioned, getting the discussion back on track.

  “Ain't a big town to start with,” Zach mentioned. “Wasn't I guess I should say.”

  “Still, should be somebody, right?”

  “Well, would you be out in the open when a Hummer with a machine gun came rolling into view?” Zach asked.

  “Point,” Stacey conceded. “What do we do?” he asked Shane.

  “We go to this church they were talking about, I guess,” was the reply. “Nothing else for it. Zach?”

  “We’ll hit the main road in about two miles,” Zach replied. “Turn right. We’ll be about another two miles out, but you won't have to make another turn. We’ll hit the church about two miles down, on the right. The parking lot used to be big enough to maneuver in but . . . been a while since
I seen it. Might be better not to pull in and let someone come to us. If we have to run, head straight out on down the highway. There's plenty of places we can cross over and turn back toward home if we have to. Better than trying to turn around in the road. Last time I was there it was pretty closed in.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Shane agreed and keyed the vehicle radio.

  “All units, this is Hummer. We're going to hit a main road in about three-and-a-half clicks. We’ll turn right and move about another four clicks to the church. We will not be leaving the road. Maintain intervals and allow anyone who's still there to come to us. In the event we have to bug out, we will make a straight run ahead and double back on better ground to get clear. All units, acknowledge.”

  “Odie copies all.”

  “Ghost copies. Understood.”

  “Well, let’s go to church,” Shane said as he pulled his rifle back up.

  ***

  “Heathen?” Clay frowned, clearly shocked at what he heard.

  “I know,” Patricia grimaced. “Leon damn near had a stroke, and I'm in no way exaggerating. I've ordered him to stay grounded and quiet for five days, hoping that he can recover. He's got the very beginning of a bronchial infection which can turn to pneumonia just like that,” she snapped her fingers. “And Clay, if Leon develops pneumonia, that . . . that might be it,” she acted as if saying it would make it so.