The Jared Chronicles | Book 2 | Tears of Chaos

by Tippins, Rick

  John didn’t want to wait for a blister to form before addressing the issue.

  “A preventative approach will save you both a lot of headache,” he told the two men as they sat inspecting their throbbing feet.

  Once the men had applied moleskin and donned dry socks, the four moved out again. John kept them moving along the side of the hill for fear of running afoul of whoever had been clanging around the night prior.

  As much as he wanted to walk along the relative flatness of the trail less than a hundred yards above them, John knew this could spell disaster. He remembered a book he had read years earlier about the man who created what was now called DEVGRU or SEAL Team Six. The man had written about an operation he had planned and led in Vietnam. There was the easy way to reach his objective, and there was an extremely hard and dangerous way in. Instead of taking the easy way, he led his men through a near impenetrable jungle filled with thorns and all sorts of deadly creatures to reach his mission objective. The enemy never thought to post a sentry to watch this avenue of ingress but had instead used most of its resources to cover the much easier avenue of approach. This spelled disaster for the Viet Cong.

  John never forgot the lesson he learned from that book. It was a basic lesson, but a valuable one to follow, and he applied it whenever possible. Put in the hard work when no one else will, and you will reap the fruits of your hard labor.

  John estimated there was about ten hard miles of walking to do before the group reached the trailhead they had used to access the hills on their way to Woodside. His plan was to push hard, then set up camp not far from the city, rest until Barry and Dwight were in tip-top shape, or at least as close as two city boys could get, and then begin the dangerous endeavor of getting back to Devon, Claire and Stephani.

  By the day’s end, the group reached flatter ground as they neared what had formerly been civilization, but was now nothing more than empty buildings and dead bodies. The men happened on a park, and to John’s joy, the park had a sunken circular sandbox that had been designed for children but would now serve as the perfect place to hole up.

  The sandbox was approximately twenty feet in diameter and filled with soft sand. The sides were eighteen inches in height, making for the perfect place to fight from. It was like a Silicon Valley fighting hole if you were a Marine, or foxhole if you hailed from the Army. Either way, John was elated. Jared was vaguely aware of the tactical advantages the sandbox offered, but what excited him the most was he would be sleeping on the soft cushion of the sand and not the rock-hard earth like he had the night before.

  The men set up camp in the bottom of the sandbox and began preparing their meals. John or Jared always remained vigilant and took turns eating while the other kept watch. The park was flat and offered a spectacular field of view in the daylight in case anyone attempted to walk into their position. Night would be a whole different game, and Jared knew this from his time spent on the golf course with Bart.

  It hadn’t been that long ago, yet Jared felt like a lifetime had passed since he’d spent the night on the open greens of the course with Bart. Now, Jared doubted he would see all the imaginary shadows he’d seen then. Since that time, not only had his body began to toughen, but so had his mind. The change in his mental endurance had all really begun that day in the supermarket when he’d been beaten senseless and had his bicycle stolen. It hadn’t stopped since, and he doubted it ever would.

  “I say we stay here until you two are a hundred percent. Anyone trying to sneak in here on us is gonna draw the short straw,” John said with a wide smile.

  Jared chuckled quietly. He’d never seen John so happy. It was the little things in life that mattered now more than ever before. The only thing that had sparked John’s happiness was being a little safer than they’d been since they left Dwight’s place. After the men ate, they went in pairs to do their business. The park’s restrooms were beyond what Jared would have classified as a disaster, so they moved off into the surrounding bushes. The original three had brought toilet paper and still had a respectable amount, which they all rationed for fear of the day when it would be gone.

  The following morning, the men packed their gear, ate breakfast, and drank all the water they had in their bottles. Jared had gone for a walk and found a pond on the far side of the park. The body of water had been filtered before the event, but was now looking a little murky. Jared filled his water bottles using his water-purification pump and then returned to tell the rest of the group about his aquatic discovery.

  The pond was less than one hundred yards from the sandbox, so the men went one at a time, with the other three men keeping a watchful eye on the surrounding area. If something were to happen, the man at the pond would return posthaste while the other three men did whatever they had to to ensure the man’s safe return to their ad hoc bolt-hole. The filling of everyone’s water bottle went smoothly, and before long, they were all lounging in the sand, allowing their muscles a badly needed rest.

  The prior evening, Jared and John had spoken of taking the day off and decided they would rest the two computer boys for the entire day and into the following night. John figured with roughly thirty hours of rest, Barry and Dwight would be good to move out at 0300 hours and make it most of the way back to the ironworks shop under the cover of darkness. John hoped most of the people who skulked about in the night looking for easy prey would be done by 0300 hours and back in whatever hovel they slept in, allowing a safe passage for the foursome.

  Calvin and Shannon didn’t sleep well after the three left them alone with Essie. Calvin knew there was no way the two adults could pull security watch during the night with just the two of them for any length of time. They had to deal with feeding and schooling Essie, and those two things, in Shannon’s opinion, would not be set aside.

  The first night John and Jared were gone was the worst. Both Shannon and Calvin tossed and turned, waking at the slightest sound and sometimes waking for no reason other than their haunted dreams. Essie was well rested the first day and ready to go, while the two adults were dragging, managing to sleep perhaps two hours total.

  Shannon pushed through making Essie breakfast, then spent four hours teaching her reading and mathematics. Shannon had removed a small dry-erase board from the side of the refrigerator and used it in the absence of workbooks. She would create the workbooks a page at a time for the little girl. Calvin ate breakfast and then moved out to the OP, where he rested and even nodded off a couple of times.

  At around noon, Calvin made his way back to the house and dropped onto the couch. Shannon was just finishing making some lunch for Essie and offered to make more for Calvin, but he declined. He found he ate less these days, and over time he felt less hungry, as if his body had adjusted to the reduction in the availability of food. After lunch, Shannon suggested a nap, which Calvin again declined before returning to the OP and taking a nap there. Shannon and Essie napped inside the house for an hour before getting back to a reading lesson.

  That evening the three sat in relative silence, eating freeze-dried mac and cheese in the dim flickering light of a small candle that had positively not been designed to provide light. The candle gave off a sweet vanilla fragrance that caused Shannon to yearn for a hot bath with ten more of these sweet little candles and a good book. She hadn’t read a word other than the reading she’d done with Essie, and now she longed for a thoughtful story to help her fall asleep.

  “Do you think they’re dead yet?” Essie asked, causing both adults to stiffen.

  “No!” exclaimed Shannon. “No one is dead or going to die, Essie.”

  “Bart died,” the little girl countered.

  Shannon looked at Calvin for help, which never came. “Bart was sick, honey. He was old and sick, and now that there are no doctors, well—there was no one to help him, and he went to heaven,” Shannon soothed Essie, reaching out and pushing her hair out of her face, with a warm smile intended to reassure the girl.

  “My mom and dad died, and
I heard Jared and Bart talking about how all the people in the world are dying.”

  Calvin shifted in his chair. “Essie, you don’t need to worry about those things,” he said, trying to ease the tension he felt growing in the room. “All people die at some point. Even before all this happened, people died, but you’re right, a lot of people have died and are dying. You ain’t one of them though,” he said, smiling at the girl. “And neither is Shannon or me, or Jared or any other person we live with.”

  Essie looked at her food, then moved it about the inside of the meal packet before looking up at the two adults. “I think that if you all died, then I’d die too.” Essie nodded her head as though this was a foregone conclusion and went back to eating her dinner.

  “Well, alright then,” Calvin said as he got up from the table. “I’m going out to fetch some water before it gets too dark so you two gals can freshen up a bit before bedtime.”

  Calvin stepped away from the table, walked to the house’s single bathroom, retrieved the five-gallon Home Depot bucket they used for washing, and strode out the front door. The door hadn’t fully closed when Shannon heard Calvin gasp, followed by the bucket hitting the wood of the front porch.

  Chapter 21

  Standing in the front yard not ten yards from the front porch was a Hispanic man in his forties, holding a machete in his right hand. The long-bladed machete hung along the man’s pant leg in a nonthreatening manner, but the fact that Calvin had not expected anyone in the front yard in the first place nearly pushed him into cardiac arrest.

  Calvin dropped the bucket and quickly realized his shotgun was leaning just inside the door he’d just closed. The man in front of him neither advanced nor spoke, but instead stood as still as a statue, eyes fixated on Calvin. Calvin thought about retreating inside and arming himself, but something about the man stopped him. Calvin was armed with a pistol he carried in a leather holster on his right hip, much like a detective would have carried back before the event.

  “Howdy, friend,” Calvin called out.

  When Shannon heard Calvin call out, she grabbed Essie and shoved the girl towards the back of the small house. “Hide under your bed. I’ll get you when it’s safe.”

  Shannon made sure the girl disappeared into the bedroom, then raced back to the front door, where she armed herself with a rifle. She eased herself to a window and peered out to see the Hispanic man with the machete.

  “I need food for my son. I can work for you,” the man rasped through a light Mexican accent. The man spoke excellent English, but it was evident it was his second language.

  At the mention of another person, Calvin wished he’d grabbed his shotgun. “Is it just the two of you?” Calvin asked as he glanced about the surrounding area.

  “Me and my son,” the man responded.

  “Have your son come on out so we can all talk and get to know one another.”

  The man looked perplexed for moment; then he turned and gave a low whistle. Out of the bushes a young boy of maybe ten approached his father’s side, looking scared, in a state of malnutrition and generally not in good overall health. When the boy stopped at his father’s side, the man gulped and just stared back at Calvin.

  When the boy appeared, Shannon could see he was suffering, and her heart nearly broke for him. She watched the men stare at each other for five seconds, and couldn’t take a moment more. She got to her feet and flung open the door.

  “For God’s sake, Calvin, bring that boy inside so I can feed him.”

  Both Calvin and the Hispanic man jumped at Shannon’s sudden appearance. Shannon stopped at Calvin’s side and beckoned the lad to her. He did not leave his father’s side, opting to remain near the comfort of a family member.

  “It’s okay, we have food, and your boy is starved half to death, come on.” Shannon waved her hand more urgently now.

  Calvin sighed deeply, then reached down and righted the five-gallon bucket before moving to the side as a gesture of goodwill toward the two standing in front of him.

  Before the man and his son took a step, Shannon held up a finger. “We are good people here, we want to help you and your son, but if you do anything to jeopardize our safety, we will kill you. Understood?” she finished.

  Calvin gave Shannon the once-over with raised brows. He was surprised, and then he wasn’t. She had probably been a tough girl before the event, and now that she had something to protect, she meant business. Although Shannon would naturally protect what was hers, deep down she was still the compassionate teacher from the time before the event, and that wasn’t such a bad thing, Calvin mused.

  “Thank you, thank you, sir. I can work for you. I can do many things,” the man said as he and his boy walked toward the front porch.

  “Hold up now,” Calvin said with his hand raised. “What’re your names?”

  “My name is Carlos, and this is Salvador,” the man said, introducing himself and his son.

  “My name is Calvin, and the fine lady there is Shannon. Inside is a little girl, and her name is Essie. We have three more men who live here who are out hunting right now, so you can get to know them when they get home,” Calvin finished.

  Shannon was already in the house, preparing a meal she thought would add much-needed vitamins to the young boy’s body. She went to the cache of canned goods and chose spinach, carrots and a jar of mixed fruit. When she returned, Carlos and Salvador were sitting at the table along with Calvin, the machete resting next to the door with the rest of the larger weapons. The two newcomers appeared very uncomfortable in their present setting, but their hunger stopped them from leaving.

  Shannon placed the food on the sink top, then remembered she’d forgotten Essie.

  “Essie baby, come out. We have guests for dinner,” she said, raising her voice just enough to be heard down the hallway. A moment later Essie came out, stopped at the threshold to the living room, and suspiciously surveyed their dinner guests.

  When Essie’s eyes locked onto Salvador, she looked away shyly.

  “Come on in, Essie. Sit down and finish eating,” Shannon coaxed.

  Essie put her fingers to her mouth, tugging lightly at the corner, then slowly moved to her position at the table. She did not, however, resume eating, electing instead to stare at their guests through untrusting eyes.

  “When was the last time you two had a decent meal?” Shannon asked as she began removing the tops of all three food containers.

  “Two weeks, maybe more, I don’t know. We eat in the woods, some food, maybe—how do you say, ah, lizards and, ah, worms. Things we find on the ground,” Carlos said, his accent showing through more now that he was outside his comfort zone.

  Shannon’s mouth dropped slightly; then she caught herself and resumed the food preparations. She made two bowls filled with vegetables and fruit for the two guests. She would make them something with some carbs in the morning, but for now she wanted to give them something that wasn’t processed since they’d admittedly been eating unprocessed lizards and worms for the past two weeks or more.

  Shannon served Carlos and his son and warned them about eating too fast. She waited, and when Carlos didn’t translate, she gave him a quizzical look. “Does he speak English?” she asked.

  Carlos looked at his son and then back at Shannon and nodded. “Yes, he speaks. He was born here. He went to school before—before the bad thing.”

  Shannon looked at Salvador, who stared back placidly for a second until he turned his attention to the bowl of food in front of him. For the most part the two guests ate slowly until their bowls were empty.

  After they were finished eating, Carlos looked around nervously. “We can sleep outside, and I will work in the morning?”

  Shannon looked at Calvin, who got to his feet, walked to a cabinet, and grabbed a bottle of Blanton’s whiskey along with three glasses. He turned and held the glasses up for Shannon to see, but she shook her head. Calvin replaced a glass and returned to the table, where he set one glass in front of Car
los and the second in front of himself.

  “No, I don’t think you should sleep outside, Carlos. I wanna hear your story, my friend. I wanna have a little drink and hear where you came from and what you’ve been through.” When Calvin finished, he poured Carlos three fingers as the man held up his hands in protest. Calvin ignored the man’s reluctance, finished pouring, then filled his own glass.

  Darkness had officially fallen as the candlelight danced on Carlos’s troubled face. Calvin could tell the man had seen tough times since the solar flare, and maybe he just didn’t want to talk about it in front of Salvador.

  “Tell ya what, friend, we can put the kids to bed—in real beds with real blankets—and then we can talk. How’s that sound?”

  Carlos seemed to relax nominally after Calvin’s proposition, nodding his head slightly in compliance more than agreement.

  Calvin took the nearly imperceptible gesture as a yes. “Good, let’s finish up eating, get them washed up, and off to bed, then.”

  Carlos nodded his head again submissively, which bothered Calvin. The man was ready to sleep outside with his son, kept talking about paying them with work, and acted like he couldn’t have been more uncomfortable, when all Shannon and he had done was open their home to Carlos and shown him a level of hospitality that would have garnered awards even before the event.

  Calvin shook his head internally. “Let’s you and me go get some water so they can clean up.”

  Calvin grabbed his shotgun and the five-gallon bucket used for washing as the men exited the house, and noticed Carlos failed to retrieve his machete. Calvin wasn’t quite ready to give the man a firearm, but also didn’t feel it was right for anyone to go stomping about the countryside unarmed, day or night.