by Bruno Miller
Mary, a folded sheet in her hands, appeared from around the corner of the building. “We should cover him,” she said.
Vince took the sheet from her and unfurled it over Jim’s body. He and Tom wrapped the body up before carrying it the last couple feet to the edge of the property and out of sight of the others.
“We tried to stop him but he wouldn’t listen,” Tom said.
“He thought you and Bill were in trouble. He wanted to help,” Mary added. The words stung, and Vince couldn’t help but feel partly responsible for Jim’s death. What Mary said only added to the feeling of guilt he already struggled with.
As the three of them returned to the motel, Vince tried to put it out of his mind. It wasn’t the first time he’d lost a man and been haunted by the feeling that he could have done something differently to prevent a tragedy. But right now, there were bigger issues to deal with, and he had the rest of his life to feel bad about what happened to Jim. Now they had to stay focused and capitalize on their slight advantage over the intruders. They needed to prepare themselves as best as they could for the next attack. It wasn’t a matter of if—it was a matter of when. It wasn’t just the supplies in the garage the looters would be after next time either. Next time, they would be looking for something far more sinister: revenge. Suddenly, the smoke and fires seemed like the least of Vince’s concerns.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Vince had everyone gather in the back room of the motel, where they normally served the continental breakfast for guests. Once he had everyone, except for the children and Beverly, who had volunteered to stay with them back at the room, he called the meeting to order.
Vince went over some of his concerns and what he thought were priorities crucial to their survival. He outlined a rough plan of attack for after the fires died down and the smoke cleared. Unfortunately, there was no point in venturing out until that happened. With the limited medical supplies they managed to save, they couldn’t afford to have anyone else get hurt or risk smoke inhalation.
Reese had come up with a written inventory of what they had. She cautioned that they would need every bit of it to treat any survivors they found after the fires, and she was right. She had also procured potassium iodine pills in their haul from the pharmacy and passed them out to everyone, just in case they had been exposed to radiation from the nukes. Vince had his doubts about whether they would do any good, but he kept them to himself. If nothing else they were worth it to maintain morale.
To Vince’s surprise, everyone agreed with his priorities. He expected at least some resistance or differing opinions, but they all seemed glad to let him take charge and lay out a plan. He wasn’t sure if it was genuine or because some of them were still in a state of shock and denial about what was happening around them. The responsibility of being in charge wasn’t a job he wanted, but someone had to keep things moving, and these people looked up to him whether he liked it or not. It was a big responsibility, and he promised to do his best not to let them down.
The first order of business was getting the power back up and running at the garage. If he could manage that, they would have access to clean, drinkable water. He and Cy would go back over to the garage and see if they could restore power while the others stayed at the motel and out of the smoke for the time being.
He didn’t mention it to the others, but they would also gather weapons from the dead gang members. He didn’t want Cy to have any illusions about what was going on. It wasn’t something he particularly wanted his son to be a part of, but he also wanted Cy to see things for how they were. The sooner Cy realized that this was survival of the fittest, the more prepared he would be for what lay ahead.
Before they headed across the street, Vince wanted to do something to prepare for the smoke they would be exposed to. He’d breathed enough of it in already and didn’t want to push his luck and trigger any health problems. His throat was already hoarse and irritated; spending more time outside would only make things worse, and the paper hardware masks weren’t cutting it.
As the others headed back to their rooms, Vince asked Cy to stay behind.
“Come with me,” Vince said.
“What are we doing? I thought we were going over to the garage,” Cy asked.
“We are, but first I want to make a couple masks for us. I don’t want to breathe in any more of that smoke. We’ve done enough of that today.”
Cy followed his dad into the small kitchen area of the motel and began to look around the room. “What are we looking for?” Cy asked.
“We need a couple empty containers big enough to fit over our faces.” Vince found a closet filled with cleaning supplies. It had a few containers that might work, but he quickly dismissed that idea and ruled them out. Breathing out of something that held a cleaning agent wasn’t a great idea and would probably do more damage than the smoke itself.
“What about these?” Cy held up a couple of clear plastic two-liter juice bottles that he pulled out of a recycling bin.
“Perfect.” Vince grabbed some new cleaning sponges and a roll of duct tape from the supply closet and met Cy at the stainless-steel workstation in the middle of the kitchen. He pulled his knife from his pocket and began working on the bottles, cutting the bottoms and part of the backs of both bottles off in a pattern so they would fit around their faces. Vince held the bottle up to his face several times, testing the fit until he was satisfied.
“Let me see your mask,” Vince said.
Cy pulled the paper mask from around his neck and handed it to his dad, then watched as Vince began to take it apart. He cut small slits into the first bottle and used the elastic from the mask to make a head strap, then reinforced it with the duct tape. He then wrapped the roughly cut edge of the bottle with duct tape to soften it and provide a better seal.
“Take these and get them wet with the melted ice from the freezer.” Vince handed the sponges to Cy. As Cy soaked the sponges, Vince continued working on the other bottle. By the time Cy returned with two wet sponges, the masks were almost ready. Vince shoved the sponges into the necks of the bottles until they pushed up against the lids. He unscrewed the bottle top and put one of the makeshift masks on. He inhaled slowly through the device and gave Cy a thumbs-up. It took a little work to get a full breath through the small opening and it smelled like old apple juice and stale water, but it was better than breathing in smoke that contained God knew what kind of carcinogens.
“Try yours,” Vince said. Cy put the strange-looking mask over his face and took a deep breath. The plastic crinkled and popped as it conformed to his face with each inhalation. Cy nodded and returned the thumbs-up signal. The masks weren’t pretty, but they would do the trick.
On their way out of the motel, Vince stopped and checked the desk drawers in the office behind the front counter. He was looking for a box of ammo that Jim might have stashed somewhere.
“Check behind the front desk and see if you can find any ammo for Jim’s pistol, will you?” Vince asked.
“Sure,” Cy said. But before Cy could even begin looking, Vince spotted a red and black box of .44 Rem Mag soft points in the back of the top drawer. He grabbed the heavy box and looked inside. He was glad to see the box of fifty was mostly full.
After they carried Jim’s body around back, Vince asked Bill to give the handgun to Tom. Bill was still visibly shaken from the gunfight. Vince took Bill’s truck keys and sent him back to his room to be with his wife and daughter and, hopefully, pull himself together. Tom needed a weapon, and Bill already had his rifle, so it made sense to give Tom the handgun. He briefly considered letting Mary have the gun, but the .44-caliber pistol would kick like a mule. As tough as she was, he wasn’t sure Mary could handle it with any accuracy. In talking with Tom, Vince learned that he was in the navy for several years and was also a hunter. He felt better about him having the miniature hand cannon.
Vince and Cy made their way out of the motel lobby and into the smoke. They donned their makeshift masks and
tried them out.
“Is yours working?” Vince shouted through the plastic.
Cy nodded and gave him a thumbs-up.
“Wait here a sec.” Vince hurried over to the room that Tom and his family were staying in and was glad to see Tom keeping watch at the window. Vince had asked him to take the first shift of what would be an around-the-clock lookout.
Having someone awake and on lookout was one of the things he had proposed at the meeting and another reason for Tom to have the pistol. If Tom saw anything or anyone coming down the road, he was to step outside the room and fire one shot in the air as a warning.
Tom saw Vince coming and opened the door to let him in, but Vince was in a hurry and handed him the box of ammo for the pistol and started to leave without saying anything.
“Major,” Tom said.
Vince stopped and turned to face him. “What is it?”
“The van. It’s in the way. I can’t see very well,” Tom explained.
Vince nodded. “I’ll take care of it.” Tom began to cough as he retreated into the room and shut the door. The smoke was still bad, and Vince was glad he’d taken the time to make the masks for him and Cy.
Vince got Cy’s attention and pointed to the van. The two met at the battered old Chevy, which still sat where Fred and Hannah had ground to a halt earlier. Vince was happy to see the keys still in the ignition and even more pleased to hear the engine roar to life as he slid into the driver’s seat. The left front tire was missing, leaving only a badly bent rim. But the van was rear-wheel drive, and if he kept it in reverse, they should be able to make it across the street and to the garage without too much trouble.
Moving the van to the garage was something he planned on doing eventually. He was sure he could find a wheel that fit the van and get it back up and running. Even with the bad transmission, it would be handy for hauling supplies. He hadn’t planned on fooling with it now, but it was in the way, and if moving it would give Tom a better view of the road, then it was worth doing now. The last thing Vince wanted was the looters to surprise him while he and Cy were trying to restore the power inside the shop.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Cy climbed into the passenger’s seat and was about to close the door when Vince stopped him.
“You might want to leave that open. I’m going to need you to keep an eye out as we back up and make sure I don’t run into anything,” Vince said. It was hard enough to see with all the smoke in the air, but the van’s rear windows and side mirrors had been charred black with soot from Fred and Hannah’s close call with the fires, making it impossible to see behind them.
Cy hung on to the door as he looked behind the van and Vince put it in gear. The wheel lurched in his hand as he struggled to keep it steady, the front rim cutting into the pavement as they began to move backward.
“Curb!” Cy yelled out as the van bounced off the sidewalk and into the street. Luckily, the garage was a fairly straight shot across the street and the gate to the rear yard was directly behind them. Slowly but surely, they progressed across the street, the front rim resisting the entire way and making loud grinding noises as they went. Judging by how the van was handling, Vince wasn’t sure the front wheel without the tire was even turning anymore. He wrestled the wheel and tried to keep it as straight as possible. The rear wheels chirped and spun occasionally as they dragged the van backward. Vince struggled to keep between the two sides of the gate, but the van drifted to the right, forcing Cy to close his door as the chain-link gate scraped down the side of the van and tore the mirror off his door.
“Sorry,” Vince said, but there was nothing he could do about it as the rim dug into the gravel and dirt, forcing them to the side and leaving a small trench in their wake. Satisfied the van was far enough into the rear yard and out of the way for the time being, he turned it off and left the keys in the ignition.
“Good enough,” Vince said.
Out of habit, Vince hopped out of the van and headed for the rear door of his shop before remembering that it was damaged in the attempted break-in that morning.
“We’ll have to use the front door.”
Cy followed him back through the gate and around to the front, where the Ford pickup was parked next to Bill’s truck.
“We need to gather up the guns and bring them inside.” Vince headed over to the body behind the sign and the gun he had kicked away from the man earlier while Cy gathered the weapons from around the pickup. When Vince returned, his son was standing over the bodies and staring at the pool of blood that surrounded them.
“Come on. Let’s get inside,” Vince said. Cy remained silent as he stepped away and followed his dad inside the building.
They laid the weapons on the front counter and took stock of what they had: two shotguns and an AR-15. Vince had hoped to score a few rifles. They were covered in the close-range department and could have used more weapons capable of shooting longer distances. With the current visibility outside, that didn’t matter right now, but it would when the smoke cleared.
The shotguns were both 12-gauges, and that much was good. The box of shells Vince had would work in both. When he divided the ammo among the three shotguns, though, there wasn’t much to go around. The AR was chambered in .223, and the thirty-round magazine felt about half-full, the missing bullets lodged in the concrete wall he hid behind during the fight. With any luck, they’d find more ammo in the Ford pickup. The additional guns were a great find, but without ammo, they were useless.
So far, the masks were working, and although it took effort to get a satisfactory breath of air through the wet sponge filter, it was at least clean and no longer burned Vince’s throat. But now that they were inside the building, they could take them off and breathe easily. Even though the smell of burning debris was still strong inside the store, the air was free of floating ash and particles. It was a relief to be free of the restrictive mask. They were also beginning to fog up, making it hard to see in the dim light.
Vince took a deep, much-needed breath as Cy followed his lead and removed his mask as well. They enjoyed their newfound freedom for a moment in silence and inhaled deeply.
“Well let’s see if we can get this power on, shall we?” Vince rummaged behind the counter blindly until he found the flashlight he was looking for. He switched it on and shined the light over to a row of shelves on the far side of the store.
“Grab a lantern and a can of fuel and bring it here.” Vince kept the light focused on the row of boxes that filled the top shelf, each one containing a brand-new propane gas lantern. Cy pulled a box down and wasted no time tearing it open and pulling out the contents. Next to the lanterns were a few portable stoves for camping, and below them were a few dozen one-pound propane fuel tanks. The lanterns and stoves ran off the little green propane cylinders and were popular among the campers and fisherman headed down to Cagles Mill Lake and the Leiber State Recreation Area. Camping gear was something Vince debated whether or not to sell in his store, but now he was glad he did.
A few weeks earlier or later and he would have been running low on all these things. Being forced into a survival situation was hard, but it couldn’t have happened at a better time from a supply perspective, and he was trying to be thankful for the little things right now. They could have been a lot worse off than they were.
In the back, Vince had a pallet of the smaller propane tanks, among other things, all of which just arrived the other week. Fortunately for them, he had received a lot of things within the last couple of weeks in anticipation of the summer camping season.
Cy quickly assembled the lantern and screwed the small green tank onto the bottom, forming a base. He grabbed a lighter from a display box near the register and lit the two lanterns. Cy turned the knob all the way to the right until the lamp hissed with a glowing brightness that forced them to shield their eyes. Vince turned the flashlight off as the intense white light filled the room.
“Whoa there, easy. Turn that down a little.” Vince could
only imagine the amount of light spilling out onto the street in front of the garage.
“Sorry.” Cy cringed and dialed it back until the lamp emitted a soft dull glow.
“There you go. That’ll do.” Vince, anxious to stop advertising their presence to the outside world, led them toward the back of the building. The two made their way into the shelf-lined storage room at the rear of the garage. The shelves were filled with boxes of car parts that would now most likely never be used. Along the far-left wall, blocking access to the panel box and the DC to AC current inverter, were several empty propane tanks waiting to be filled and put in front of the store.
Vince operated a propane refill station at his garage, most commonly used for the twenty-pound tanks found on barbecue grills and also the larger tanks on board RVs. The camping season hadn’t really kicked off yet, and the large thousand-gallon propane storage tank he drew from out back in the yard was close to full.
If he couldn’t get the power on, that gas would provide all they needed for cooking and light and maybe even heat if all this lasted into the winter. But he was getting ahead of himself. There was no point in worrying about any of that now. Their main concern was surviving the night.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Cy set the lantern down on a worktable in the center of the room and joined his dad, who had already started moving the empty gas tanks away from the wall and the electrical boxes. Neither of them spoke much, but that was okay with Cy. He had plenty on his mind, not the least of which was his mother back in Washington and his ex-girlfriend, Kate.
He and Kate split up less than a month ago, and it was a less-than-pleasant parting of the ways. They had been together for over two years, and breaking up was hard and complicated but the right thing to do. She had become controlling and increasingly unhappy about his recent interest in joining the army. He had hoped to talk to his dad about it on his trip to Indiana this summer, a conversation that seemed pointless now.
