by P. A. Glaspy
A Powerless World
Book 3
When the Pain is Gone
P.A. Glaspy
When the Pain is Gone by P.A. Glaspy
Copyright © P.A. Glaspy 2017
All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced in any form, except to quote in reviews or in the press, without the express permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Any parallel to persons alive or dead is purely coincidental, and is not intended by the author.
Published by Vulpine Press in the United Kingdom in 2017
Cover by Claire Wood
ISBN: 978-1-910780-73-2
www.vulpine-press.com
For Jim, my husband, my confidante, my cheerleader, and my best friend. I could not have done this without you.
Since our group has grown so much, here's a quick breakdown of the players up to this point in the story. If anyone is confused, hopefully this will help.
Cast of Characters
At the Farm
Russ, Anne, and Rusty Mathews – this is their story, told from Anne's point of view. Rusty is fifteen years old.
Bob, Janet, and Ben Hopper – best friends of the Matthews, sharing their journey. Ben is fifteen years old.
Monroe and Millie Warren – Janet's aunt and uncle, owners of the farm. Monroe is an Army vet who served in Vietnam.
Brian Riggins – the Mathews’ next-door neighbor; smart guy, so they brought him with them.
Marietta Sampson – former customer of Russ; close friend of Brian; included at Brian's request.
Sean and Kate Scanlin – found by Russ and Brian on a scouting mission, picked up on the way to the farm. Two daughters: Tara, ten years old; Katlyn, eight years old. Sean can make moonshine. Kate is an LPN (licensed practical nurse).
Luke and Casey Callen – friends of the Scanlins who lived close to the farm. Casey has a huge canning setup. Brought to the farm with their camper.
Mike Thomas – ran into the Scanlins while hunting for food for his group of neighbors; brought the Scanlins into their group; machinist, former Marine.
Ryan and Bill Lawton – brothers, neighbors of Mike. Landscapers by trade. Bill was killed by marauders
Pete and Sara Raines – neighbors of Mike and the Lawtons. One son, Tony, thirteen years old. Sara is a teacher. Pete was killed by marauders.
Lee Roush – neighbor of Mike, the Lawtons, and the Raines. Two kids: Aiden, nine years old; Moira, six years old. He's a carpenter. Wife Jackie never made it home from work when the EMP hit.
Matt and Nick Thompson – lived next door to the Warrens. When everything went down, Monroe brought them to stay at the farm, as their parents were in Memphis visiting family. Matt is seventeen years old; Nick is sixteen years old.
Jim and Charlotte Dotson – live close to the farm. Charlotte is disabled; Jim is retired and an avid hunter. Two adult daughters, Carrie and Ashley. Ashley is divorced with a daughter, Shannon, fifteen years old. Carrie is a nurse.
At the Sheriff's Office
Tim Miller – deputy; high school friend of some of the marauders (Alan's crew).
Gary Burns – sheriff.
Angie Hale – mayor.
Marauders
Les's Crew – Les, Joe, Mac, Ray, Junior, and Dave. These are the original scavengers from the Matthews' neighborhood in Book 1. They turned up again in the area vacated by Mike and his neighbors. Joe and Mac died there.
Alan's Crew – Alan, Rich, and Steve. They have made a run through an area not too far from the farm. Currently squatting at the Callen place.
Jay and Clay Glass – from town close to the farm. Have spent their time begging for food and supplies; live with their mother, Rhonda. Jay was killed by Ryan, in retribution for Bill's death.
Chapter 1
Alan and his crew had driven back to the Callen place for lack of another option. Steve had been in Alan's ear all the way there, when he could make himself heard over Rich's wailing.
“We can't stay there anymore, Al. You told those guys where we were holed up. The sheriff will be looking for us there. We need to load up and light out.”
“I know. I know, alright? First thing is to get him took care of.” He motioned with his head to the back of the truck. “Either we get him fixed up or I'm gonna fix him for good. He's driving me nuts with that caterwauling. Shut up back there!” He turned as he yelled it and the look on his face had Rich reducing the volume of his painful sounds to a quiet whimper. When they got to the house, they helped Rich get inside where he fell in a heap on the kitchen floor.
“Al, man, you gotta get me to a doctor or something. I think I'm bleedin' to death!” Rich was covered in blood down the right side of his body. Steve had taken his shirt off and given it to Rich to apply pressure to the side of his head where his right ear had been. One of Bill's shots had taken the ear off, leaving a bloody mess in its place.
“Sure Rich. Just where would you like me to take you? Ya reckon the minor emergency clinic is open? You know, the one right next to the sheriff's office? We should just go on into town right now. I bet those folks have been going to work every day, even though there's no electricity, which they need for everything they do. You're such an idiot! There ain't no more doctor's offices or clinics. Besides, you think they wouldn't tell the sheriff next door that someone was there with a gunshot wound? We'll just have to see if we can find something to wrap it up with for now. Steve, go look in the bathroom, see if those assholes left any bandages, since they sure as hell didn't leave much of anything else. And get him something for the pain so he'll shut the fuck up for five minutes! God knows we've got plenty of that kind of stuff.”
Steve walked toward the bathroom, shaking his head and mumbling to himself about it being a bad idea to have come back there and that they were getting busted for sure if they stayed. Al could hear him but chose not to respond just then. He was digging through the drugs they had looted from other homes. He spied what he was looking for, pulled the bottle out of the pile, and handed two to Rich.
“Here. Swallow these Vicodin. They'll ease your pain, and give my head a break from your screechin’.”
Rich took the pills and laid down on his left side. Steve came back with an old sheet he was ripping into strips. “No bandages, but I found this sheet. We can make a pad for the ear—well, what's left of it—and wrap some around his head to hold it on. Let me get some booze to put on it, see if we can clean it up some.”
Steve went to work on Rich, which of course made Rich start screaming again. Al went out on the porch, smoked some meth, and zoned out. He thought about the day’s events. Things didn’t go good at all. In fact, it was a pretty shitty day. And we still don’t know what they have in there … except that one of those guys is a hell of shot. Hit that stupid kid dead center in the head. That’s what happens when you’re a dumbass and you stand there like that when there’s people shooting. I’m surprised either of them lived as long as they have since the shit went down. But Steve’s right. We’re gonna have to leave. I shouldn’t have told that little piss ant where we was staying. Just need to figure out where to go from here.
Alan was leaned back on the porch swing, eyes closed, with all this running through his head when Steve joined him. He tried to hand the meth pipe to him but Steve waved it off. Leaning up against a post, he pulled a cigarette out of his pack and lit one. “I did the best I could with what I had. The bleeding has slowed down a lot. It’s a mess, man. I don’t know what to do with it. It’s like raw meat. It’s pretty gross.” He paused, took a drag off the cigarette, and continued. “The vodka should help with keeping it from getting infected
, but we’re gonna have to watch it, and probably clean it every day. Did we have any antibiotics in the drugs we’ve collected? He should probably take some if we do.”
“Is he gonna make it? I ain’t wastin’ valuable meds on him we might need down the road if he’s gonna die anyway.”
“I have no idea, Al. I’m not a doctor. What are you saying? You’d let him die, rather than give him some of the penicillin we’ve got stashed? Why did you want me to fix him up then? Why did we even bring him back?” Steve was mad and was not trying to hide it, even though he knew incurring Alan’s wrath could be life-threatening itself.
“I don’t know, dammit! Just get him in traveling condition for now. We’re out of here in two days. We’re gonna backtrack to that last place we stayed at before this one, but we need to make a stop first.”
Steve eyed him suspiciously. “Two days? You want to take the chance the sheriff doesn’t show up in the next two days? Where are we going then, if we aren’t under arrest that is? You’re not thinking of going back to that Warren place, are you? You can’t take that place, Al. We can’t take it. You’re just gonna get—”
“No, not the Warren place. We’re going back to the one we met those dumbasses at; what’d he say their name was? Dotson, that was it. We’re going to that one.”
“Why? There wasn’t anything there. We checked the place good.”
“No, but it’s close enough to that farm that we can … never mind. Just get him ready to go.” Alan got up and headed for his truck, with Steve watching and quite possibly wondering what he was going to get them in the middle of next—and if it would get them killed.
****
Two days later, with his truck crammed full of their ransacked supplies, Alan drove up the driveway to the Dotson home, having cut the lock the last time they were there when they had run into the Glass brothers. The crew had brought everything they had gathered so far with them, since there was no going back to the Callen place. Steve was still trying to get Alan to tell him why he wanted to come back here.
“This seems like a waste of time, Al. We know there’s nothing here we can use. We should go on back to one of the other places we’ve stayed that were farther away from here. I’m telling you, the sheriff is going to be looking for us. Hell, we should get out of this county.”
Alan glared at Steve. “Stop naggin’ me! It’s like havin’ a damn wife with you around. You’re riding in my truck. If you don’t like the road I’m on, you’re welcome to hit the pavement and try to make it on your own. I’ve got my reasons and I don’t owe you shit for an explanation. Now, either get out or shut up!”
Steve set his mouth to a grim line but held his tongue. He was in a delicate position at the moment and needed to find a way out. The problem was, the longer he hung around the deeper he got involved. I gotta get out of here, Steve thought to himself. Al has totally lost it and is gonna get us all killed. Problem is, I need a ride. He had been trying to keep his eyes open for an older vehicle but so far hadn’t found anything that would run. He decided to try harder to find transportation.
Rich was leaned against the passenger side door, moaning softly. Al finally relented and gave Rich some of the antibiotics he had in his stash. Steve checked and redressed the wound twice a day and had reported to Al that morning that it appeared to be healing. At least the redness was fading and it didn’t smell. Both good signs as far as he could tell, not that he really knew that much about it. He had an uncle who lost an arm below the elbow in a factory accident when Steve was young. It had just been his hand that was injured. He remembered his uncle trying desperately to save his hand, against the doctor’s advice; remembered it turning violent shades of red and purple, then black. But most of all he remembered the smell. They say that smells can trigger memories you can’t recall otherwise. That smell was the smell of death. In the end, the gangrenous hand infected the lower section of his arm as well. He got a nice settlement from the factory, which he proceeded to drink himself to death on. He never got over the sight of his lost arm. Steve never forgot that stench. He wasn’t getting any kind of smell at all from Rich’s wound.
Alan drove slowly up the drive, seemingly watching for any signs of other folks there. It looked quiet, like no one had been back there. He pulled up just short of the house and got out of the truck. Steve slid out on the driver’s side. Rich stayed in the cab. Alan walked around to the back of the truck and pulled two gas cans out. Steve stared at him. Knowing it would probably piss Al off again but not really caring, he started in on him again.
“What the hell are you doing with that gas? Are you fixin’ to waste gas burning something? You know whatever gas is out there is it, right? Ain’t no more tankers making deliveries, and no way to get it out of the ground if they did. Seriously, man—what’s the deal?”
“It’s my gas and I’ll do whatever the hell I want to with it. Get the fuck out of my way.” Alan shoved Steve aside and headed for the house. He set one of the cans down and unscrewed the lid on the one he still held. He started splashing the gas along the sides of the house working his way around it. When he had emptied the first one, he picked up the second and headed for the door going into the house. Steve stood watching him, shaking his head and mumbling “crazy, psycho sonofabitch” over and over. He walked over to the door Rich was leaning against. He knocked on the window to get Rich’s attention. Rich slowly lowered the window.
“Man, what is he doin’? Why are we here? We need to get out of this place, out of this town, out of this county. I can’t believe the sheriff hasn’t already found us. Hey, you got any more of that Vicodin? I’m hurtin’ bad, Steve.”
Steve went into one of the plastic footlockers in the back of the truck and pulled out a bag of pill bottles. He shuffled through them until he found the one he needed and gave one to Rich. He put the bottle in his shirt pocket for later, placed the bag back in the bin and closed it. Rich took the pill and swallowed it dry. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the open window. Steve stood by the door looking toward the house, still shaking his head.
“I have no idea what he’s doing. We should be getting the hell outta Dodge, ya know? We should just take the truck and leave his crazy ass here. Yeah, we should do that. Just go. We could be five miles away before he comes out of the house. Let’s go, man. Let’s do it—take his truck and go. We can—”
“No, we can’t. We can’t do shit. He took the keys.” Rich pointed to the empty ignition on the steering column.
“Son of a bitch! He must have thought we might try to do exactly what I wanted to do. He may be a psycho, but he ain’t stupid. Listen, I’ve been looking and haven’t found anything yet so keep your eyes peeled for another old car or truck that might still be running. I want to get away from Al before he gets me killed. I’ll take you with me, if you want to go that is. He’s delusional, dude. He still thinks we can get in that place across the way. I’m telling ya, he’s crazy and somebody over there is gonna take him out. I don’t want to be around when that goes down. You with me or not?”
“Yeah, man, I’m in,” Rich said, while nodding in agreement. He winced at the pain the movement caused his wound. “Al is out there, he’s gone bye-bye. He’s completely lost it. I don’t want to be around when that shit goes down either. I ain’t seen anything we could use for a ride but I ain’t really been looking. I will from now on. With me by the door, I’ll be able to keep an eye out without Al knowing what I’m doing. But what will we do for supplies? What will we eat? Or drink? Where will we stay?”
Steve looked toward the house, watching Alan’s return. “I don’t know, but I’d rather take my chances out there with nothing than here with him. At least on our own we have a chance to survive. With Al, we’re dead men who just ain’t died yet.”
****
Alan proceeded to saturate each room in gasoline. None was spared. He wanted to make sure this fire was seen. As he made his way back to the front door, he pulled a lighter out of his pocket. He picke
d up a framed picture of the Dotson family from a side table in the foyer. After smashing it against the table, he pulled the photo out and lit it with his lighter. He laughed at the irony of setting the house on fire with a picture of the family who owned it. He tossed the burning image to the floor and backed out so he could watch the show. Now, to wait for the volunteer fire department to show up, he thought to himself. Let’s see how many fish we catch with this fire net.
He finally turned and sauntered back to the truck where Rich and Steve were both watching him incredulously. He became defensive. “What? You never seen a house burn before? What’s your problem?”
Steve shook his head. “No problem, Al, it’s cool. So, what now? We gonna stay around here, see who shows up? Was that the plan all along? To try to lure them out of their place?”
Alan walked up to Steve, almost nose to nose. “What if it was? Don’t you think Rich there deserves some payback for his lost ear? Forget that. Can you imagine the supplies they have in there? Those guys we had the run-in with looked pretty clean, which means they got a water source in there. What about women? You know all those fellas ain’t in there without some companionship. That place is a gold mine, I can feel it. We could stay there, wait this thing out. We take that place over and we won’t have to worry about nothin’ else. Food, water, women—it’s the perfect place, I’m tellin’ ya!”
Alan had a wild look in his eye as he was relaying his fantasy of getting control of the farm and all its imagined assets. Steve looked at him incredulously. “Riiiight. So, do you think all of them will come over here to see about the fire, then? Because if they don’t, we’re right back where we were before. Too many of them, not enough of us.”
