EMP Antediluvian Fear

by S A Ison

  David watched the guards surreptitiously, they seemed subdued. He wasn’t sure if it was from Jutta’s rant or something else. Maybe their white power play wasn’t working out how they’d wanted it to. They too were looking a little on the thin side and when Jutta had offered them breakfast as well, they’d jumped at the chance, eating ravenously. Maybe things aren’t as equal in the KKK world as you thought it would be, David thought with a smile. A hungry man was a disgruntled man.

  ֎

  Jutta clucked softly like a worried hen, her throat feeling clogged at seeing the poor children and this pregnant woman. She felt her heart constrict and it conflicted with the rage that swam through her veins like a hungry shark. She felt the heat of rage break like the incoming tide. She wanted to go out and shoot those men, but she knew they were only acting out of fear and orders. She’d seen their shame clear enough, they knew they’d done wrong. She’d also seen how thin and hungry they were as well as the people from the coal mine.

  She was sure also, that those men had not missed seeing the children, but had turned a blind eye. Perhaps there was hope for them yet. She hoped so. She had her daughter Milly pour hot water into the tub, it wouldn’t be a lot, but at least Mary could sit and bath in privacy. She’d helped the woman undressed and nearly burst into tears when she saw Mary’s ribs. Mary’s backbone was sharp down her narrow back. Her lips trembled as she tamped down the emotions that threatened to drown her.

  She gently wiped Mary down with a clean rag, getting most of the grit off her body before letting her bath. She left Mary to her bath and went to tend to the two small children. She could feel the tears slide down her face when she quietly closed the door. She leaned back against it. She couldn’t stop the tears from falling. Her heart was shattering over and over. She took her apron and wiped at the tears. She shook her head and blinked her eyes, willing the tears away. That poor woman’s body was near skeletal. If that baby lived, it would be a miracle.

  Trina was helping the two boys wash up in a basin. Their faces slowly becoming clean. She saw they were thin, but not as thin as Mary. She figured their mothers had given them the lion’s share of the food. She wished she could get her hands on those bastards, she’d tear them apart with her bare hands. Her knuckles popped loudly and her hands curled into tight fists. She wiped once more at her face and walked over to the boys.

  Each child had been given a t-shirt, their own clothes taken away to be washed. She took a soft cloth and lifted each face and wiped the residue away. For now, they were clean enough, but they’d be bathed again later. She was sure it would take a few hot soapy baths to get rid of the grime.

  Each boy had a large biscuit with bacon and egg inside and a large glass of fresh milk, from the morning’s milking. The boys looked to be four and five, one was black and the other white, though she’d not been able to tell when she’d first seen them. Their hair was matted and filthy, their tiny bodies caked in grime and coal dust. It took numerous washings, but they were close to clean.

  Their small hands wrapped around the biscuits and they ate solemnly, their cheeks bulging. Their eyes seemed overly large in their heads. Once more, Jutta had to clamp down on the overwhelming urge to cry. She bit down on her lip and smiled with difficulty down at the boys.

  Mary came out of the bathroom, looking better. “Thank you, Jutta, I feel like a new person.” Mary smiled shyly. She was wearing a dress from Milly.

  Jutta smiled and bit back the tears, blinking rapidly “Come and eat Mary, we need to fatten you and that baby up. I have some fresh squeezed milk.” She joked and Mary laughed.

  Both women sat at the large farmhouse table, and Mary began to eat and sighed heavily as she enjoyed the flaky biscuit. She took a drink of milk and groaned in delight. Jutta smiled, her blue eyes lighting up.

  “I’d never thought I would say that eating a biscuit and drinking fresh milk was almost sinful.” Mary smiled.

  Jutta laughed until she cried and then Mary started crying and Jutta got up and gathered the shorter woman into her arms and hugged her and held her for a long time. Both women were weeping, rocking back and forth. Their tears wound down and both heaved a very heavy sigh and laughed, wiping the tears away. Jutta reached over and grabbed a couple of tissues out of a box sitting on the counter. She handed one to Mary.

  They realized the two small boys were watching them open mouthed and Jutta smiled sweetly. She went over to the boys and picked up each in her arms and sat down holding both in her ample lap. She kissed both their small heads and hugged them to her breast, causing both boys to giggle.

  “What’s your name boys?” She asked gently, giving them each another biscuit, this time filled with fried apples. “I’m Jack.” said the little black boy. “Hi Jack, how old are you honey?”

  “Oh, I’s five.” He said, taking a big bite of the biscuit and chewing methodically. Both women smiled and Jutta kissed him again on his head. She jiggled the other little boy, which made him giggle. “What’s your name honey?” she asked the little white boy. “I’s Robert.” Though he pronounced it Robret. She jiggled him again and elicited another giggle.

  “And how old are you Robret?” she laughed and he held up four fingers. She kissed his head and Mary reached out and drew the four-year-old to her lap. She kissed his head and held him close to her and laid her cheek on his small round head. Her hand caressed his thin arm. She handed the boy a biscuit filled with fried apples.

  “I truly cannot understand why these people are so hateful. Were they always this way, do you think? And a disaster was the right recipe to make them act like this?” Mary asked, taking another bite of her biscuit, and then another drink of milk.

  Jutta shook her head. “Sweetheart, I wish I knew. But if I ever git my hands on that you know what, I’ll end all his problems fast.” She said, her deep sapphire eyes glinting. Mary smiled and nodded. Jutta felt the child in her lap growing heavy. His small body sinking into her soft flesh. She could feel the heat radiating off of him.

  Jutta saw that both the boys and Mary looked near to passing out with a full stomach. She got up, Jack still in her arms. His body was becoming limp and she heard the soft snore from him and smiled.

  “Come on Mary, I’ll put you and these young’uns ta bed, you sleep as long as you like. We got to get you back to fighting weight.” She smiled over her shoulder as she led the way upstairs.

  ֎

  “I want ta know, who in the Sam Hill kilt our people. By god, we ain’t gonna stand for it.” President Audrey shouted, his fist hitting his desk, his face an alarming red and purple.

  Vice President Yates sat quietly watching Gene Grady making the report. “Sir…”

  “That’s President Audrey, you will address me as President Audrey.” Rupert shouted.

  “Yes s.. President Audrey, the shootings were done spread out, one guy’s head, that was Whitney Porter we think, got his head blown clean off. We can’t tell fir sure.” Grady said, swallowing hard, his eyes darting between Audrey and Yates, a fine sheen of sweat braking out over his upper lip.

  “Another, Mac McBride, he was shot standing guard by the Quick-mart, Larry Town said he’d not seen a sole, that Mac just dropped to the ground. Then there was two volunteers, Jim Striker and Rudy Hoskins. They was shot as well, near on bout the same time.”

  “Looks like someone is picking off our boys.” Vice President Yates said slowly, his red hair nearly matching the red in his face. He didn’t like this. It was cowardly, he didn’t like an enemy to hide. They were spread thin enough without having to worry about some vigilante taking their people out. It didn’t help that Audrey wanted a contingency of body guards around him at all times.

  He snorted, and looked up, realizing he’d laughed and Audrey’s face was turning purple. He held up a calming hand and nodded Grady out of the office.

  Once the door closed, he looked to Audrey, “Look Rupert,..”

  “President.” Audrey said petulantly.

  Yate’s mouth th
inned, his eyes narrowing. “Look Rupert, this is to be expected. There are a lot of people unhappy with us and with our people. This is a surprise only in that it took so long. I figured we’d get much more resistance, so that is a good thing. It has to be expected that there would be people to push back.”

  “But I’m the damn president and people auta respect that.” Audrey snarled, his small fist clenched, his beady eyes squinting. His lips were pulled back and his yellow teeth shown dully in the office, he had a patchy beard growing. His hair greasy and flattened to his round head.

  “It’s only been a month, maybe if we give them a little more food, they’ll be a little more compliant. Power through the stomach and all.” Yates said rationally.

  “But I want…” Rupert began.

  Yates brought his large fist down on the desk with such force that the papers flew in all directions and Audrey jerked back, nearly falling out of his chair.

  “No! Listen here you little fuck, you’re the only one that buys your brand of Billy Bob bullshit. You had that fucking kid shot for flipping you the finger. A kid for Christ’s sakes, you think those people respect you, you think they will call you president? You’ll be lucky you don’t get your god damned head blown off. I don’t give a shit that you want to play president, but you keep that shit low keyed. I’m not going to get my head blown off because you don’t know how to handle people. You’d better give the god damn order to distribute more food, or you’ll have more deaths and some serious fucking unrest.” He hissed angrily, his face beet red and his breath blowing out his nose like a blown horse.

  He stood up, gave Audrey a scathing look and turned and walked out of the office, slamming the door so hard, the glass shattered. He didn’t look back, because he was a hair’s breath away from shooting the jackass in the head.

  Grady was standing out in the hall and gave Yates a look, and Yates shook his head. Both men headed outside and onto the sidewalk. He turned to Grady, his voice much calmer, the bright alarming color receding.

  “Look into these shooting. This was a well-coordinated attack, and that means military to me or police. You and Smalls get out there and sniff around and keep the fucking rhetoric down. Give out some food, these god damn people are starving, especially the families with children. Do it now.” Yates ordered.

  Grady looked at him for a long moment and then nodded. “They found Andy, his truck hit a tree, but I think he had a heart attack. He was supposed to be bringing some food in, but I don’t know if he did or not. There wasn’t anything in his truck.”

  “Was he robbed? You sure it was a heart attack?”

  “Yeah, his shotgun was right by his side and he was leaning over sideways, his eyes open and all. No sign of foul play that they could tell.”

  “Shit, does anyone know where Andy kept the food stored?” Yates asked, biting his bottom lip, thinking.

  “No, but I’ll head to his house and see what’s what.”

  Yates nodded and looked around the street. It was empty. It was eerie, there was no noise. Even the birds seemed quiet. He felt the hair raise along his neck and his eyes narrowed, scanning the windows of the buildings around him. He felt like he was being watched. He caught a movement in a store across the way, though when he looked, he saw nothing.

  “Okay, go ahead and get to it. Watch your back, I got a feeling that things are going to start to get hairy.” Danny Yates watched Grady walk away. How the hell had all this gone sideways he wondered. It was Audrey and his self-important bullshit. Things were going fine until he named himself fucking president. What a complete jackass, I should have shot him instead of Deets, he thought.

  He began to walk back to his office, slowly. He didn’t want to show fear, but fear he felt. He could feel that primordial fear curling around his shoulders. He could feel eyes burning into his back. It was all he could do not to turn around and look. The world had turned upside down and he was thinking that perhaps raising up the KKK hadn’t been the best strategy. It had been Audrey who’d pushed for the killing of the Santo family. Andy had been all for it as well. Yate’s hadn’t raised a fuss, he was all for getting rid of the family, but he’d have been satisfied with putting them in the coal mine or sending them on their way.

  Now a days, when people looked at him, he’d not seen smiles, only blank stares. Some hostile, but quickly hidden. The older people didn’t bother hiding their contempt. One old timer had spat a stream of tobacco across his path and when Yates had looked at him, the old bastard had stared with hateful eyes, that bored into Yate’s soul. The man had been old, but he was sure that if the man had a gun, he’d have been shot down there in the street.

  If life was rough before the end, it was dicey and chancy at best now. He’d have to rethink this thing with Audrey, he was becoming a liability.

  ֎

  Boggy walked along the creek, he had developed a hankering for some fish, and so he’d gathered up a pole and tackle box and headed into the woods. It was quiet out here and he enjoyed the solitude. He knew Harry had a few places to fish and Harry had mentioned the best pond to go to. He took his time, enjoying the quiet. He heard the rustling of the critters that made the forest their home.

  He had Willene’s Ruger LC9s 9mm gun in a shoulder holster inside his loose shirt. He’d not wanted the extra weight of his hunting rifle. He was well hidden in the woods. He felt comfortable walking alone. He wanted his hands free for carrying a lot of fish back home. He smiled at the thought. It had been a long time since he’d gone fishing. He enjoyed the idleness of it.

  Marilyn had packed him a lunch to take with him as well and he whistled softly to himself as he walked along. Monroe had wanted to come along, but his mother had made him stay to weed the garden. Boggy grinned, he understood the boy’s plight, his own granny made him pull weeds from their garden. She’d said it was honest work and would keep him out of trouble. She’d been right about that and he laughed softly to himself at the memory.

  He thought about the cave, he’d never seen so much food and supplies. It reminded him of one of those big stores with racks and racks of food. He couldn’t get over the forethought that Harry’s grandpa had, and had accomplished. It was truly a miracle and he felt blessed to be a part of their family.

  He well and truly cared for each member of the household. From Angela to Harry, they all meant a lot to him. They had all treated him with kindness. One evening, they’d been sitting on the porch. He’d felt the need to talk and he’d revealed to them that he was gay. He’d waited for their condemnation, their anger and repudiation. They had all looked at him and shrugged and smiled.

  Then Willene had laughed, a sweet laugh and then, Katie and Marilyn and Harry had followed. “Boggy, I’m gay too.” Willene had said and everyone started laughing, including Boggy. They had wiped the tears away and Willene had gotten up and hugged him. He’d wept in her arms, he’d never felt so loved and accepted, since his grandmother. Clay and Earl had grinned as well and smacked him on the back. Then Monroe had said, “What’s gay?” and everyone had laughed harder, and Earl had picked the boy up and squeezed him in a hug, “It means happy.” Earl had said.

  A soft smile curved Boggy’s face when he remembered that night. Boggy came to a small stream, that fed into a larger stream that fed into a good-sized pond. He sat his rod and tackle box down. He stood looking around in the clearing, it was peaceful and the wind blew the bright green leaves around, above him. He could hear squirrels chattering, not happy about his presence. He could also hear the low constant buzzing of the cicadas.

  He squatted and dug around in the tackle box for the right fly and affixed his hook and then cast his line into the pond. He sat near the bank and listened to the blue jays that were fighting in oak tree twenty feet away, he knew it was full of acorns. He heard frogs croaking somewhere in the cattails and heard small splashes. The air was full of soft soothing sounds. He could feel the sun beating down on him.

  He was getting sleepy when he felt the first initial
tug on the line, and he began to reel in the fish. He felt the tug and pull of the fish that translated up the line and into his arms. He could tell that it was a good-sized fish. He grinned broadly and reeled it in. It was a trout, about thirteen inches long. He knew it would make good eating. He ran a line of paracord through its gills and placed it back in the water. It would stay trapped on the line until Boggy took them home.

  He marveled at the thought of home. It had truly become his home. His grandmother’s trailer had been his home, but once she’d died, he’d felt alone. He no longer felt that way. He felt safe at the farmhouse and he felt welcome and useful. He shuddered to think what his life would have been like had Earl not come to his home to collect him.

  He’d never even heard of an EMP, it was something invisible, yet had changed their world irrevocably. He may have lost his old home, but he’d gained a new home and a new family, one that he cared deeply for.

  He cast the line out once more and sat down on the grass. He leaned over and pulled a long stem of grass out and put it in his mouth. He began to chew it and tasted the sweet green taste of it. The constant and hypnotic drone of the cicadas lulled him into sleepy contemplation.

  His eyes began to grow heavy again until he felt a stinging pain against the side of his head. He fell over, the fishing pole falling to the ground. His eye sight was blurry and his head pounded and he was confused as to what just happened. He blinked rapidly, his brain trying to figure out what was going on.

  He looked around and saw two white men standing over him, broad grins on their filthy faces.

  “Well looki what we’uns have her, a black boy, a fishin and don’t you’uns knowd he’s a trespassin on sommone’s property, probly a white man’s.” The greasy blond snickered, he had a filthy gray tank top on, that had a decal of a woman, that had nearly been peeled off. His teeth were gray as well and thick with a buildup of scum. Boggy could smell the stench of his breath from the ground.