Charit Creek

by D A Carey

  “Sounds like my mother,” Dave said.

  Tim nodded and subconsciously pulled his daughter close. “My dad was worried. He had plenty of food; that wasn’t his concern. It was the people he worried about. He said they would go nuts soon, that civility was only a thin veneer on top of animalistic impulses for many. We decided I should bring my family back to their place. It was larger and well stocked, and we would all be together.”

  “Your dad sounds like a smart man,” Levi said.

  “He was,” Tim answered, and the group couldn’t miss the past tense. “I made it back home, and we packed what we could carry. I didn’t worry too much because I assumed the power would come back on in a few days, and if it didn’t, I’d go back for whatever we needed.

  “When we got back to my parents’ house, the front door was standing open. I was stupid. I walked in and yelled, ‘Mom, Dad, what’s going on? Why is the front door open?’ It was then I saw some men and a couple of women in my parents’ home. Most were sitting around eating or drinking my dad’s beer. I didn’t think. I flew into a rage and charged into my parents’ kitchen while yelling, ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ They converged on me like a pack of dogs. I don’t think I ever hurt like that in my life. I curled into the fetal position to try and avoid their kicks and found I was lying next to my dad’s body. His eyes were open and staring sightlessly back at me. I must have lost consciousness, because when I opened my eyes, some time had passed and my son Jay was on the floor with me and my dad. The pool of blood under his head was too much for him to live through.”

  Tim’s daughter buried her head in his side and began to weep.

  Dave stood up. “I don’t want you to have to relive this. We get the picture.”

  “No, I need to finish this as a catharsis for me and Amy. I want this recorded. We never did find any police, and I want someone to know what happened to my family.”

  “Okay, Tim. Know that you can stop any time you want.”

  “Thank you. Well, Amy filled me in on a lot of what happened while I was unconscious. When I was knocked out, Jay grabbed a lamp to beat the men. My mother went to help Jay, and one of the women knocked her down. We think she must have hit her head on the edge of the stove, because she never moved and no one helped her.” Tim began to sob but held up his hand to stay the crowd so he could finish his story. “Jay was a strong young man. He was on the high school football team and getting good grades. He hurt a couple of the thugs before he was hit on the back of the head. He just had no experience in that kind of fighting. None of us did. He was hit on the head from behind and fell into me and my dad. Then they kicked and beat him for what Amy said must have been ten minutes. He didn’t survive that beating.

  “When I woke, my parents and son were dead. My daughter was locked away in the basement, although I didn’t know that. My wife was cooking for them on my dad’s Coleman camping stove while they packed up his food and supplies. A couple of the villains kept saying they should have fun with Amy and my wife. A couple others were against the idea. The first ones kept saying, ‘We already killed people. What does doing what we want with these women matter on top of that?’ Then the other man said, ‘I don’t know. We killed the others in a fight. The other stuff doesn’t feel right.’ When the first scumbag laughed and said, ‘You’ll get used to it,’ and the other dudes didn’t say anything, I knew things were going to get worse.

  “The first two thugs went down to the room they’d locked Amy in, laughing all the way. My wife ran down after them with a kitchen knife. Amy said she cut one of the men really good. Then they took the knife from her and cut her throat. The killers and Amy could only watch as she choked to death on her own blood. Then Amy started blasting an air horn my dad had in that room from when he used to go to the Broncos games. That was the smartest thing any of us did that whole night, because one of the women with those guys yelled downstairs that a lot of people were coming.

  “A bunch of the neighbors were coming to see what was going on. After that, they grabbed as much of the supplies as they could and ran. I made it to my feet and went to check on my wife and daughter.”

  “Did your neighbors help?” one of the councilmen asked.

  “No. I don’t blame them for not stopping the killers. They didn’t know what they’d done and probably would have only got hurt for trying. What was worse is that when they came in the house, they milled around like spectators to a train wreck. A couple of the women hugged Amy and covered my wife, son, and parents with sheets. The rest of the people were more interested in my dad’s supplies than helping us. I couldn’t stand it. I lost it and screamed at them and they left.

  “I don’t know how long Amy and I sat there crying. It was Amy who thought straight. While we sat there holding each other, she said, ‘They’ll be back.’ When I asked her who, she said, ‘The bad guys or the neighbors or someone else. Everyone knows Grandpa had so much food and camping supplies now. They’ll be back.’ I knew she was right.

  “We moved my families’ bodies to a cool spot in the basement and packed up as much as we could carry in a couple of backpacks. We took food and flashlights, and I got my dad’s .357 revolver from the shoebox in his closest. I guess he didn’t have time to get it when those men burst in. Then Amy and I left. We didn’t even bother to lock the door behind us. What was the point?”

  “Did you have more trouble like that getting up here?” one of the council members asked.

  Tim looked at the man incredulously, like he had asked the most stupid question. Tim’s sarcasm was understood when he said, “You mean trouble as bad as seeing my wife, my son, and my parents murdered? Amy and I made it here, so no, nothing like what we experienced in my parents’ home.”

  “I’m sorry,” the council member said. “That was insensitive of me to ask it that way.”

  “It’s okay. I’m sorry. I guess I’m on edge. It was bad getting here. We travelled when we could and slept in vacant buildings or under bushes. I used all the ammo my dad had trying to scare people away when we were approached. It’s possible some of the people were good. Who knows? We saw fights and killing and rape and every form of debauchery. We never saw police or any government people.” Tim’s disgust was palpable. “Halfway here, we ran out of food, and I began to scavenge like the rest of the hordes out there. I never took from a person or hurt anyone, but I did search through homes or businesses that appeared abandoned. We lived on beef jerky from an office worker’s desk and candy from vending machines and whatever else I could find. After we got out of the city and into the mountains, we thought we were safer and could move faster, yet food was harder to find. I know some about edible plants, just not enough to fill our bellies. Occasionally, we scavenged chips from a gas station that had fallen behind the shelves and been missed by others. When the pain of all the walking got to us, we chewed the bark from willow trees to ease the pain. I don’t know how we did it, but we’re here now. It’s hell down there. All I want is to keep my daughter safe.”

  Dave stood to shake his hand. “You’ve been through a lot and performed heroically. You saved your daughter. It’s more than most could have done. I’m proud to know you. As I said before, we’ll get you a ride to your cabin, and my people will make sure you have whatever you need. If you want, I’d be happy to have you come call on my community. We have movies and churches too.” The last comment got some raised eyebrows from valley council members who hadn’t know how well set up Dave’s community was.

  “Right now, all I want is some time alone for my daughter and me to heal.”

  Choices Define Us

  “A free people [claim] their rights as derived from the laws of nature, and not as the gift of their chief magistrate.”

  - Thomas Jefferson

  << Cindy >>

  Cindy was proud that Luke continued to find ways to make himself useful to the leaders at the FEMA camp in Louisville. She was aware he was disappointed in himself for compromising his principals
and helping people who were so obviously corrupt. Yet balanced against the need to take care of his family, she was happy those principals could take a back seat.

  Cindy prompted Luke a few times to use his improved status to get them a room in the hotel. So far Luke had resisted, reasoning with Cindy that the more he took from these people, the more he owed. Luke was well aware the people upstairs had no scruples. They weren’t the type of people he wanted to be in debt to.

  He and Cindy didn’t quite argue about her trips upstairs. She believed she was only trying to help the family like he was. He was sure she was playing with fire. “I don’t see why you need to keep going up there. Those people have no limits.”

  “You’re overreacting, Luke,” Cindy would say, her exasperation evident in her tone. “I get along well with the professor. He actually was a real professor at a university before all this and knows people call him that. He doesn’t mind.”

  “Sound like you two have become friends.”

  “Not friends, though I would say there is a mutual respect. He’s aware of my education, and while I never taught on a campus like he did, the fact that I taught college classes online appealed to him.”

  “I’m not comfortable with this. What about all those women working in the comfort rooms and the people being sent to the top of these buildings doing tasks meant to kill them?”

  “Honestly, Luke, you’re being dramatic. I asked him about those things. He was extremely forthright. He told me that of course they are working some of the troublemakers hard to keep them too tired to cause problems. Even so, those men are fed and housed, and they don’t want them hurt. As for the women, they’re volunteers. As distasteful as it all is to me, it is the world’s oldest profession. People who don’t better themselves with education are sometimes left with fewer options than those of us who did.”

  “That sounds like the professor speaking.”

  “Actually, it is something he said. Nevertheless, it applies to me and you as well.”

  “Cindy, I feel that you’re underestimating these people.”

  “Luke, he likes you. If you’d only do more, we could have a room in the hotel. He’s ready to move us up. You only need to ask.”

  “We’re fine here. I don’t want to get in that deep.”

  “I’ll go along with this as long as we’re warm, fed well, and my kids can continue their education. When I don’t feel like they’re safe or if they begin to fall behind, I’ll insist on a change.”

  “What does that mean, Cindy?”

  “I love you. I don’t want a divorce. If you put my kids in jeopardy, though, I may ask for a separation.”

  “The kids are fed and fine. A little camping won’t hurt them,” Luke said, his voice rising.

  “You’re right, a ‘little camping’ won’t hurt. However, from my perspective, you’re being silly staying out here when we could be inside a nice room and helping direct the recovery. As I said, I love you, and I’ll try for a while longer, though not forever.”

  << Luke >>

  Luke was conflicted. He understood Cindy’s protective nature for the children. She’d been raised in a family that valued more socialist ideals, so what was going on the camp wasn’t that bad to her. Luke was convinced that where Cindy was idealistic in her social standards, the FEMA leadership here was more manipulative and willing to take advantage of the situation. All of this just added another level of stress for Luke. It was odd how such a simple life could be so complicated.

  All he could focus on was making the living arrangements for the parkers as smooth as possible. The rest would have to work itself out. Armed guards would accompany Luke and the floor leaders with the rolling cart twice a day to distribute food. They stopped in front of each parking space, where the floor leader would check a list to see who was living in that space before allocating rations. After morning rations, people would go work. A few family members or floor monitors who didn’t work were allowed to stay behind to guard people’s belongings. This last part had been a hugely successful idea when Luke learned that most people weren’t unwilling to work; they were scared to leave their children and belongings unguarded.

  The rolling carts would then be taken to the lower levels of the hotel where people slept later to distribute food. The Galt House had a lot of conference rooms that were converted to dorms for single women. In many cases, these became nothing more than brothels. Some conference rooms were set up as casinos or theaters for the guards and those with position.

  No rolling carts were used for the FEMA and DHS leaders. Those people had cooks, kitchens, and their food was brought to them by waiters. They usually chose younger, pretty women to serve them. Those workers were allowed to bathe and have clean clothes in exchange for their service. Not all the women were single. Some had husbands or fathers living in the parking garage below. Luke didn’t know how much the husbands and fathers knew about what went on upstairs. A lot of the men didn’t appear to want to know.

  When he shared these stories with Cindy hoping to enlighten her, it had the opposite effect. She merely scoffed at the women who would allow themselves to be used like that.* * *

  Sergeant Penders pulled Luke aside. “Let’s go have a smoke.”

  “Okay. You know I don’t actually smoke, though.”

  “Yeah, that was obvious right off the bat. You seemed an okay sort, though, and I wanted your smokes, so I played along.”

  “So what’s up?” Luke asked when they were down at the corner of Third Street and River Road away from the others.

  “I heard the professor ask why you don’t want to move up to the lower level Galt House rooms.”

  “I’ll level with ya. I worry that every favor comes with a catch. Like when a mobster offers a small business owner protection.”

  “You’re taking a risk telling me this. If this is like the mob, doesn’t that make me a mob lieutenant?”

  “Yes, but you’re better than that.”

  “Don’t bet on it,” Sergeant Penders said. “I’m doing what it takes to survive just like everyone else. Don’t ever forget that or put me in a bad spot.”

  “Yes, sir,” Luke responded seriously.

  “You should take the room. Like with the mob, turning down gifts raises suspicions you don’t want.”

  “Maybe they’ll forget about me.”

  “I don’t think your wife will let them.”

  “I only need to find a way to stay off the work crews with sledgehammers and torches,” Luke said morosely.

  That night, Luke, Cindy, and their children settled into their blankets atop layers of cardboard, which were laid across leveled pallets. Luke had found a small chiminea stove for warmth, and they had a table and two metal footlockers for their belongings. Luke tried to cheer them up and talk about out how wonderful they’d made things. The kids mostly agreed; however, his oldest, Billy, and Cindy were quiet.

  After the kids fell asleep, Luke tried one more time, saying to his wife that what they had here didn’t come with strings like what some of the women upstairs were doing just to have four walls and a bed. What alarmed him most was when Cindy said that perhaps the tradeoff was worth it for some people. She could understand how a mother would do things when her kids needed food and a place to sleep. Luke was speechless, though before he could protest, Cindy placated him by saying, “Of course that’s beneath us.”

  When Luke asked if she would feel the same if their daughter Jessica was asked to perform the same service, Cindy snorted. “That’s years away. She’s too young and you’re being pessimistic assuming they will pressure young girls into something they don’t want to do.”

  Tired of arguing, Luke rolled onto his side to try and get some sleep. The sounds in the garage of low talking and snoring had become a white noise he was used to now and could sleep through. He’d wanted to tell Cindy that he didn’t see the FEMA and DHS leadership working too hard to end this fiefdom they had created, and he wasn’t sure how perverted the preference
s were of some of the men in charge.

  << Kate >>

  “Kate, my parents have talked to a man in charge of the FEMA side of the rebuilding effort in Louisville. Everyone calls him the professor. He’s been tremendously persuasive on how desperately they need medical people there and how precarious the recovery is.”

  Kate couldn’t speak. She’d grown to love Matt and couldn’t stand to lose him. Her heart burst with joy and was torn at the same time when he said, “I love you, and I want you to come with us.”

  “My mom and friends are here. She won’t ever move down there. How can I leave her?”

  “You’re an adult now. Kids grow up and leave home. It’s natural. She will understand. Maybe not at first, but eventually she will.”

  “What about my dad? What if he comes back and I’m not here?”

  “Kate, I don’t want to be harsh, but you have to acknowledge that he may not come back. The professor says things are quite bad out west, and your dad was weak from his cancer surgery. You can’t stay here forever hoping he’ll return.”

  “I can’t leave my mom alone and assume my dad’s dead,” Kate said, her anger rising.

  “No one is asking that.” Matt took her in his arms. “Your mom has Malcolm, and if anyone can get word from what’s going on out west, it’s the FEMA and DHS people. Your dad may not be dead. He may be hunkering down until the government gets things back together.”

  Kate chortled. “That doesn’t sound like my dad.”

  “He hasn’t been himself lately. It’s too far to travel, so hunkering down would be the smart thing to do. As for your mom, the professor has said he’d like to establish trade with the community for certain agricultural items C-town can provide. We both know your mom is stubborn, and many in this community are distrustful of the government. If you were there, you could help bridge that gap. It would be huge if we could help the government feed people and help this community get more things they need. Essentially, you could be doing the same kind of work in Louisville that your mom is doing here with the farmer’s market, only on a much larger scale.”