Pythagoras Falls

by S A Ison

  “Hey woman, you look good, you wanna party?” One man laughed, and when she looked over her shoulder, he grabbed his crotch and shook it. When she had turned away, both men had giggled. They were closing in on her and she had felt an overwhelming panic.

  “Is that chink pussy sideways? Or normal, like white girls?” The other man called and both men hooted with laughter after that. Monica had enough and pulled the .38 out. She had never fired a gun, but Mike had just told her to point and aim. The .38 had a laser built in and where the red dot was, fire. Monica whirled on the two men, pointing her weapon at them. Their faces froze and one man began to grab for the gun that had been tucked into his waist. He had a coat on and fumbled. When the red dot hit his heart, she pulled the trigger and the man fell in place. He didn’t jerk back, like they did in the movies, he just fell as though his bones went missing. Aiming her weapon at the other man, she shot him too and he stumbled back and fell. He had been turning when she fired and she ran up to him and shot him in the head, to finish him off.

  It was after that, her hand started shaking so badly, she dropped the gun. It took her two tries to pick it up and she shoved it into her coat pocket and turned and ran. She didn’t look back and kept running until the pain in her side was too great. When she had stopped, she bent over and vomited. Tears obscured her vision and she could feel snot running from her nose. With her forearm, she wiped at her face. She stumbled off the road and into the woods, about twenty feet and fell against a large Douglas fir. The low boughs cushioning her back.

  She had not been sure why she was crying so hard and it had taken her several tries to get her backpack open. She rinsed her mouth out, spitting the foulness into the dead grass. For nearly an hour, she could not move. Around her, the forest was alive and the birds resumed their singing. There were small patches of snow under the fir and she used handfuls to wash her face. The snow was cold against her heated face and felt good.

  Monica shivered at the remembrance and even now, didn’t understand why she wept for killing those bastards. She was more careful, keeping to the trees when she heard or saw people. There weren’t many and she was glad for that. She saw the road sign and turned off to that road. She was three miles away from Louis’ home. Around her were trees and small fields. There were no homes that she could see. In the distance, she saw two horses. That made her feel better and she didn’t know why. The horses seemed content and maybe, because they were, she could be too.

  Each step away from Seattle and the invading armies was better for her. Thinking of Mike, she hoped he was alive, and whoever he helped escape, she knew that individual had better know just what he was risking. When she and Mike had gone back to the hospital, many of the nurses and doctors hadn’t come back. She wondered if they had survived the winter. There were enough lakes, streams and ponds in Seattle, that people could survive by fishing and gathering plants. Granted, they would be lean, but they could survive. She had lost thirty pounds since everything ended and she ate on a regular basis. It was all lean and low calories, but she’d never starved or even went hungry. She would have killed for something sweet and rich, but other than that, she was well fed.

  Several homes were coming into view now, all abandoned. Their windows and doors had been destroyed, broken and kicked in. Someone had come to these homes to wreak havoc. To steal and hurt. She shook her head. This world was a violent world, she’d seen enough evidence of that at the hospital. But now, it was exponentially so, like someone had given bad guys permission to let loose. She saw bones on the road and knew they were human. There was a long bone, the femur and in the grass at the side of the road was a mandible, the lower jaw. The silver fillings flashed in the afternoon sun. She shivered.

  Survival of the strongest, did that mean physically strong? Or mentally strong? She wasn’t strong by any definition, standing just at five foot four. With a gun, she was strong. She had survived the mutilation, but only because Mike had helped her. Was it luck to survive? Was it fate? Did she have a guardian angel? If it was a guardian angel, then she figured that would be her mother and grandmother. She was glad that neither were alive now. The brutal exigencies of this life took real personal strength, but also a resiliency.

  She saw the last sign, and turned left down that road. Louis would give her a bed to sleep in, he would replenish her water supply and give her food. It was a kindness and a debt she could never repay. The trees were growing thicker now and a forest closed in around her. The dirt road became a trail through dead grass and she wondered if she might have got it wrong, but ahead, she saw the glint of a metal roof. Her shoulders relaxed and she moved more quickly. A dog was barking ahead and she slowed down, it sounded like a big dog.

  The house came into view, and she saw the front door open. A shriveled and bent black man walked out and smiled a toothy grin, lifting his hand in greeting. Monica smiled back, her heart feeling light and she lifted her hand.

  “Welcome, welcome, young lady! I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. Come on in.” Louis said and stepped aside, then followed in behind her. Inside the small house, it was warm and neat. An old woman sat in the small kitchen, in a wheel chair and she smiled up at Monica.

  “This is Beth, and I’m Louis.” He grinned, patting his wife on her rounded shoulder.

  “Thank you so much for letting me stay with you. I’m Monica.”

  “Monica. What a pretty name. We’re tickled to have the company.” Beth chirped, and waved a hand, indicating a chair at the table.

  “Would you like some coffee?” Louis offered and Monica nodded, grateful.

  “Bring out the batch of cookies too, Lou.” Beth reminded.

  “How long have you been walking, young lady?” Louis asked as he brought a cup of steaming coffee to the table.

  Monica was about to answer, when an enormous dog came lumbering into the kitchen and laid at Beth’s wheel chair. The dog outside had been large, some kind of mastiff/lab mix, but this dog had to be doubled that size. She thought that might be the reason this place had remained unmolested. That and she saw two shotguns by the front door.

  “It’s taken me three days to get this far.” She said, sipping the coffee and feeling the warmth spread through her system. It woke the neurons in her brain and she almost felt giddy.

  “We heard from Holt about the mutilations, and the forced marriages. I’ve been monitoring the radio and I’ve heard word from Oregon and California, that the same things are going on there. People are being herded into internment camps. They are forcing men, women and children to work in fields, clear rubble and debris. They are also forcing them to clear rotting bodies.” Louis said, shivering.

  “My god, those poor people.” Monica breathed.

  “On the upswing, there seems to be a lot of infighting between the Russians and the Chinese generals. It’s been confirmed by three different sources. Maybe while they are occupied, others can come in and maybe put a monkey wrench into their plans. Me and my radio buddies are spreading the word about guerilla warfare, you know, hit and run.”

  “California might have trouble, there are or rather was, really strict gun laws. If citizens don’t have enough weapons, I don’t know if it will work.” Monica nibbled on a cookie.

  Louis grunted with amusement, “Young lady, I’ve never seen a law that would stop a red blooded American from getting their hands on a weapon. They and I believe it is my right as an American, to bear arms.”

  “I hope you’re right.” Monica said.

  “Sweetheart, would you like to get cleaned up?” Beth asked.

  “I would love that. Thank you.” Monica said softly.

  “We have hot water on demand. Plenty of propane and we have solar and wind power, so enjoy, young lady.” Louis grinned and turned, leading the way through the house.

  Monica walked into the bathroom and saw the clawfoot tub. She groaned with anticipation and shut the door. She moved to the tub and turned on the hot water and steam rose around her.

&
nbsp; “Oh, I love you!” She cooed to the water; it had been over six months since she’d taken an actual bath. Stripping off her stiff clothing, she gritted her teeth. Once she was clean, she’d have to put them back on again. She mentally shrugged, it couldn’t be helped, but she would swim in this tub for as long as she could. She didn’t care if she pruned all over her whole body.

  She stepped into the water and groaned, goosebumps raised all over her body and she slid down into the rising water. She shivered and groaned again, the water pooling around her body. A smile creased over her face, feeling herself melt into the hot water. Reaching up, she turned off the water. The water dripped from the faucet and echoed in the silent bathroom. She reached for a bar of soap and jerked when there was a tap on the door.

  “Beth said you’d need some clean clothes. I got some of her old things, they’re clean, but smell a bit like cedar. Scooch down in the tub and I’ll shove them in, won’t look, I promise.” Monica heard the smile in his voice and she smiled and sunk down into the water, leveling up at her nose. The door squeaked open and she heard the clothing move across the linoleum floor and the door shut quietly. She moved the soap gently over her body. It was black raspberry vanilla, she smiled. She had brought that kind of handmade soap before. It was a very popular scent.

  She hoped that Louis was right about the infighting among the invaders. What she had heard from the two Chinese doctors may have been correct. Overthrowing their cohorts, she smiled at the thought. She hoped surviving Americans could rally together and stop these bastards. Her tears felt cooler on her heated face. She looked down at the ugly stump. More tears came, it was ugly and it made her useless. Sinking down deeper into the tub, she let the hot water cover her head.

  THIRTEEN

  Fargo, GA

  Blake pushed the flat boat along the water, or rather, he let the current take it and he guided it. He was using Shift’s boat, Alice held Travis and Kena was in the stern, her AR at the ready. Blake had his weapon holstered but was in his waist, for easy access. Alice had her Beretta Nano, but had it hidden away. Fiasco was curled up in the bow of the boat, near Blake’s feet.

  Blake had gone through the contents of Shift’s possessions, meager as they were. There were a few dented cans of meat, some vegetables and quite a few cans and jars of fruit. There was a box, that was filled with various pills and small packets with power inside. There were a few needles and blacked spoons. There was a plastic bag full of Red Man, a few packs of Newport, Pall Mall and Lucky Strike. There was also a vape with several cartridges. He’d been tempted to keep the cigarettes, but in the end, handed them over to Kena, along with the Red Men.

  “I can use those for trade, at least the chew.” She’d grinned. She was now sitting with her AR and a Pall Mall between her fingers. The breeze brought the aromatic tobacco to him. He figured he would just stick with his cigars, El Rey de Mundo. He had several cases and they were in mylar bags, air tight. He didn’t have a humidor; it was the next best thing. He enjoyed them from time to time, savoring the aromatic blend of tobaccos. Kena had eye him enviously and he’d given her a few.

  Growing up dirt poor, Blake had wanted everything his eyes could see. He’d been envious of those who wore new clothes, better clothes. When he had traveled the world in the Army, he had seen real poverty. Looking back, he’d been rich compared to those third world countries. It had put his life in perspective. He no longer envied anyone, but when he found something he liked or enjoyed, he got it, ambivalent to the cost.

  When he’d set about gathering supplies over the years for the cabin, he’d also thought about Alice’s needs. The sheds were filled with crafts, such as knitting and cross stitching. She had enough patterns and floss to last her years.

  “My god, Blake, I don’t even cross stitch.” Alice stood looking at the boxes with her mouth opened.

  “Might as well learn.” He’d shrugged and she had. Their lives had become very simple and she had time on her hands, though with Travis, she was kept busy, as was he. He looked over his shoulder at the boy, who was now asleep in his wife’s arms. His little limbs now had fat on them, as a toddler should, soft rounded curves. His hair had grown and Blake had cut it. It was healthy and he smelled like a normal child. Kena had provided toys from her storage sheds. She had also given them more clothing for the child. Travis called her Granny, which tickled Kena.

  Blake would have gone out to search for clothing, but Kena had poopooed the idea. She and her network of friends had donated quite a few boxes of clothing, for different ages, so as Travis grew, he’d have clothing and shoes. She’d also given him children’s books. Each evening, Blake read to Travis, and Travis was enthralled. He would teach the boy to read later. Blake had quite a few books stored at the cabin and had lent many books out to Kena. There were no local libraries and whatever books they had, would have to last them all.

  It was an odd thing to think about. He had a tablet, with hundreds of books, now useless. He wondered if those around the country even had time to read, trying to survive. Their lives had been relatively quiet, so secluded and remote. There had been a few boats to go by, but the passengers had been polite and friendly. It would seem to him, that the poor, the ones who did without all the luxuries, were coping just fine. Here in this area, there was plenty of game. You just had to go out and get it. As he was learning from Alice and Kena, there were numerous edible plants growing all around them. There was a pecan tree on his property, massive blackberry brambles that were loaded with flowers this spring.

  Kena was teaching Alice how to can the fruit and vegetables from the garden.

  “You might have to make another shed, just for the canned fruits and vegetables.” Alice said, her eyes bright with happiness.

  “I’ll do as you command.” He grinned. His relationship with Alice had changed dramatically over the last six months. Christ, has it already been six months? He though, looking into the trees as the boat passed. He had talked to Alice more in the last six months than he had in their thirty-five years of marriage. He shook his head. They had both changed, he guessed.

  “Up ahead is my niece’s place, you can pull up to the dock.” Kena called. Kena said that her niece, Harriet, and family were farmers and kept quite a few fowl, including guinea fowl, which were great watchdogs, especially when it came to snakes. Blake had liked that idea, especially with Travis.

  As the boat came alongside the dock, Blake jumped off. He tied the boat to the dock and helped the women off the boat. Travis had woken up, but looked a little wobbly. They walked up the slope, letting Kena lead the way. It was a warm May day, Blake guessed it was near ninety. The humidity was thankfully low. He wiped at his face and turned, hearing a dog bark in the distance. Then his heart slammed into his chest when a large group of squawking guinea fowl started raising hell. It was deafening and Travis jerked and ran to Blake, who scooped up the boy. His large gray eyes fearful, Blake hugged the boy to him.

  “It’s okay son, that’s the alarm.” He grinned and shifted Travis to his hip. Travis’ eyes grew large when a massive male peacock strolled around the corner, and when the bird’s tail fanned out, the boy’s mouth dropped open in awe. The bird cried out. Three men came out of the house, all with weapons, and then a shorter, plump woman, about Blake’s age came out and stood between them. She gave a glad cry and ran off the steps of the porch and flew to Kena. Tears streamed down her plump face and she fairly lifted Kena off her feet.

  “Of for the love of God, Aunty. It’s been a long time. How have you been?” She gasped, wiping at her eyes. The men behind her grinned and each stepped off the porch.

  “Are these my babies?” Kena asked in surprise, looking at the three men. The men were in the late twenties to early thirties. To Blake’s eye, they had the look of military about them. They held their weapons like soldiers or marines.

  “Hey Granny Kena.” A bald man said softly, engulfing the smaller woman.

  “Theo? Oh, I wouldn’t have recognized you.”
Kena breathed and hugged the tall man to her. Then a shorter man stepped up and hugged the old woman.

  “Raff, my gosh, you haven’t changed, still a handsome boy.” She laughed, patting his massive shoulders. Raff grinned and kissed her on the cheek. Last, a young man with part of his hand missing. There were scars up his arm and they looked old. If he was a soldier, then he’d paid the price for his country.

  “Mario, my baby. How are you son?” Kena’s hand rested on the man’s cheek, stroking it gently.

  “I’m just fine Granny Kena. Took me a few months to get here, me and Raff had to fight our way from Atlanta. That place is bad, Granny. Real bad.” Mario said, the smile faltering on his face.

  Kena turned and made the introductions, and handshakes were exchanged.

  “Army?” Blake asked the men, who grinned.

  “How did you know?” Theo laughed.

  “Army knows army.” Blake laughed, then shrugged.

  “Glad you’re near to Granny Kena, it’s been a little hairy here. I was getting worried until Raff and Mario got here. Had to kill a few jackasses.” Theo grunted.

  “I’m glad you got here. Alice and I came up from Miami, I was lucky enough to have a working vehicle. I left just hours after I saw planes dropping from the sky.” Raff and Mario whistled, shaking their heads.

  “People were cool, I’d say for the first day, then on Thanksgiving, people lost their goddamned minds.” Raff said and ducked his head when his mother yelled from the house. “Language, young man.” Causing Raff’s brothers to grin and bump each other.

  “Yes, momma. Sorry.” Raff grinned and shrugged.

  “We were lucky, Mario collects weapons. We loaded up what we could carry and packed as much food and water as we could. We were kinda scared, two black men, heavily armed, walking down the streets of Atlanta. Afraid the police would stop us, but I’m here to tell you, there were none to be found. People were breaking windows and taking big screen TVs.” Raff laughed without humor.