Moving With The Sun
Page 8
“It’s accurate. Trust me.”
“I hope it’s enough.”
“It has to be.” Charlotte stood in the kitchen doing prep work for the evening meal.
“I’m guessing no more cookies for a while.”
“Yep. They was a luxury. We was all gettin’ a little spoilt anyway. We’ll be fine. I ain’t gonna let anyone go hungry.”
She turned her back and began gathering pots and pans and placing them on the commercial stove.
“Come on, Kenny, let’s take the Celestial Seas out and see if we can’t haul in a marlin.”
“Is that the creature with the pointy nose that could murder a little black dude who’s trying to hook it?”
“Yes. Try not to get stabbed by a fish today.”
“I should bring my poison darts in case we encounter pirates.”
“No, leave those at home. I mean it. You’re going to hurt yourself with those someday.”
“What’s this?” Charlotte said, using a manual opener on one of the #10 cans.
“Kenny is an evil genius. He found fentanyl tranquilizer darts and a gun for shooting them at some vet clinic in North Carolina. Then he collected wolfsbane on his way down here from Brooklyn. Now the little monster has a poisonous tincture for his delivery system.”
Everyone carried knives or other weapons now – it had become common practice after the plague when survivors would kill you for a protein bar. Of course, someone with Kenny’s intellect wouldn’t be satisfied with just a switchblade or baseball bat. The kid could hit a target the size of a dessert plate from eighty feet away.
“That don’t sound like a good idea to me,” Charlotte said. “Seems like a boy could get some of that poison on hisself.”
“Or a boy could be mighty careful with it, meanin’ folks don’t need to fret about it.” Kenny’s impression of Charlotte’s Kentucky accent was flawless.
“Keep it up. When there’s cookies again, I reckon there might not be enough for smarty-pants boys.”
“Oh, gorgeous,” Kenny said, switching to Tyler’s voice, “You know you can deny me nothing.”
A chuckle emanated from the vicinity of the stove.
“Come on. Let’s go catch some fish,” Tyler said.
“Should we see if Fergus wants to go?”
“He’s gone on some secret mission for Rosemary. I think he’s looking for extra filters for the well. That should make Ingrid happy. We owe her now more than ever.”
“Yeah. Ingrid’s a keeper. Smokin’ hot grandma!”
“Gross, Kenny.”
“What can I say? I’m not an age discriminator.”
As the door to the Love Shack slammed shut behind them, Tyler heard the opening notes of one of Charlotte’s gospels. She might not be much to look at, but she had the voice of an angel. It made him smile.
Chapter 15 – Fergus
“Whoa there, Arnold. I come in peace. No need to get fresh with me,” Fergus said to the enormous, muscle-bound man frisking him.
“My name isn’t Arnold. Why did you call me that?” replied the giant.
Rather than with cognitive thought, the majority of the man’s neurons were likely preoccupied with body movements, the human equivalence of a blue whale whose brain is large enough only to orchestrate its biological processes.
“Arnold Schwarzenegger. Get it? You’re a big muscly guy.”
The man stared at him with emotionless eyes. “Very funny.” There was no smile to support the remark.
Fergus sighed. “May I go in?”
The giant nodded. “No tricky stuff or we’ll kill you.”
“Of that, I have no doubt. Give my regards to the missus.”
The next moment he stepped through the open door of the Tequesta Costco Warehouse, located just south of the exclusive Jupiter Hills Golf Club, where prior to Chicxulub, one might rub elbows with Tiger Woods or Rory McIlroy. The former homeowners in this part of the world would have sent their housekeepers here to buy groceries, toilet paper, and light bulbs in bulk.
It was where the Terminators had set up shop.
During the pat-down, Fergus had noticed the sound of generators coming from the back of the building. Now inside, he scanned what was visible, making a mental note of the plywood walls, perhaps erected for the purpose of keeping the warehouse’s interior hidden from view. He smelled a pervasive aroma of bleach, and a slight lingering stench of rotted meat. It wasn’t as hot inside the building as it should have been, and some of the ceiling lights functioned.
They had gotten the power back on.
Two armed men stood in front of what would have been the customer service desk before the plague. They might have been Arnold’s younger, smaller brothers.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen. I would like to have a word with your boss, if I may. I have some information I think he might find useful.”
“You got an appointment?”
“Sadly, no. For some reason my phone calls wouldn’t go through.”
“Being a smartass ain’t gonna get you nowhere.” The young man’s torso was covered with crisscrossing bandoliers glutted with cartridges, ostensibly for the M16 he held in his hands. The other man was his twin, not only because of the matching weaponry, but because their faces were carbon copies of each other.
Lots of twins these days, he thought, then tucked away the observation for later contemplation.
“Please allow me to retract my statement. I would like to speak to your boss, though. I guarantee that what I have to tell him will be worth his time, and you two shall be rewarded for your excellent decision in allowing the meeting.”
“It better be good or we’ll kill you.”
“Yes, it’s been made clear to me the dire consequences I face with any sort of misstep.”
The first man hesitated, then seemed to make up his mind. He knocked twice, then three more times on an office door behind the customer service desk.
“What the hell is it?” Despite the muffling effect of the closed door, the voice was discernibly female.
Fergus had been expecting a man to respond. Caterpillar eyebrows lifted in surprise.
“Got a guy out here says he has information. Says you’ll want to hear it.”
“Send him in.”
The last thing Fergus expected in this alleged misogynist mecca was a woman in charge.
The sentry tipped his shorn head, indicating Fergus should go in.
The temperature of the room was comfortable due to the cool air blowing through a ceiling vent. Light cast by a banker’s desk lamp created a cozy ambience. The scent of lavender pervaded the space.
Fergus stood in the small office, mouth agape with dawning comprehension. He realized he had been wrong in his previous assessment: a female in a position of authority would have been the next to last thing he might have expected. The very last thing was a young woman sitting behind a desk overlaid in neat stacks of paper and who looked like a real-life grownup version of the Little Mermaid.
He was looking at Zoey’s identical twin.
“It better be good or we’ll kill you.” She repeated the mantra, glancing up from her notepad scribbles.
Fergus didn’t miss a beat. Rosemary was correct – he was quick on his feet.
“I know where there is an extensive supply of propane that you’ve missed.”
Eyes as blue as his own revealed no interest.
“What makes you think we want propane?” The voice was low and musical; the subharmonics were tempered with steel.
“It’s powering your operation. You have lighting and air conditioning, but I’m guessing the majority of your electricity is used for refrigeration. Most of the gasoline these days is no longer viable. I didn’t see any wind turbines, solar panels, nor waterfalls for hydroelectricity. What’s left? Propane generators.”
“You heard the motors.”
“I did. But I managed to piece the rest of it together using the impressive gray matter between these handsome ears.”
“I don’t see handsome ears. All I see is some alarming hair. How do you get it to do that?”
Fergus sighed.
“Never mind, I don’t care. Where’s the propane?”
“Well, about that. I would like to enlist. I’ve been lonesome and bored wandering this desiccated continent alone. It’s time for me to become part of something bigger than myself. That’s what all the cool kids are doing.”
“Bigger than yourself? That’s not saying much. We let you join in exchange for the location of the propane? Why don’t we just torture you to get the information?”
“Because I also offer other services. I would be your most capable sycophant.”
A sniff and a half-grin. “I’m already surrounded by capable sycophants.”
“I’ve met the intellectually-challenged Incredible Hulk out front, as well as Lennie Small and his twin brother on the other side of your office door.”
“Am I supposed to be impressed that you’ve read Steinbeck?”
“Only if it helps my cause. My point is that you have plenty of brawn, but perhaps you need more brains. Some help with your workload. I’m Fergus, by the way.” He extended his hand above the paperwork. It was ignored. “May I ask to whom I have the pleasure of speaking?”
“Where’s the propane?”
“What an unusual name for such a stunning lass. Is it Native American? Like Stands With Fists?”
He saw amusement in the blue eyes; his own crinkled in response.
“Andy,” the woman yelled at the door, “Come get this joker and kill him.”
“No, no, no,” Fergus said, crinkles vanishing. “My death is unnecessary. I’ll share with the class now. I surmise you’ve tapped out the local commercial distributors. The hospitals as well, because you’re smart and would know they store it for their backup generators. It doesn’t do to have the lights go out during open-heart surgery.”
One of the twins opened the door and grabbed Fergus by the arm.
“Give us another minute,” the woman said to her hired muscle, who promptly exited, closing the door behind him.
“I wager you’ve sent scouts out looking for tankers abandoned in parking lots or on the highways and have drained those as well.”
“Get to the point.”
“I wonder if you know that in addition to hospitals, landline telephone utility companies utilized backup propane generators during power outages.”
He saw that he had scored.
“The AT&T complex is in Vero Beach. I passed it on my way here.”
The half grin became a full one.
“But wait, there’s more. All those cell phone towers you barely notice because they’re so prolific these days? They often utilize propane generators as well. So for every one of those intrusive blights on the American landscape, there may be a nearby tank to feed its generator.”
He watched the lovely face as the information was processed. She was likely deliberating on his fate as well. If she had shaken his hand, his scythen would have given him a better read on her, so he had to rely on gut instinct alone.
“I’m just getting started, my dear. I’m a fount of useful knowledge on a variety of topics, both broad and esoteric. I served in the military, so my weaponry know-how is more extensive than that of your young thugs outside. I owned a private security company before the end came, so I’m intimately familiar with the ins and outs of keeping the beautiful people of the world, such as yourself, safe from would-be assailants. I can make chocolate soufflé, juggle chainsaws, and pick any lock this side of a state prison. I’m your huckleberry.”
“You’re a movie buff as well.”
“Indeed. Val Kilmer as Doc Holliday is perhaps the most sublime piece of cinema ever filmed.”
“Disagree. The fava bean scene from Silence of the Lambs.”
“That’s a little before your time, isn’t it? And such dark subject matter...serial killers and cannibals?”
“I find psychopaths fascinating.”
“I see. Well, perhaps I should be going. I don’t want to waste any more of your time.” He took a step toward the door.
“Not so fast, Lucky Charms.”
The moniker struck a chord – it was the name Dani used on the occasions that she wanted to goad him, which had been most of the time. It brought back wonderful memories as well as a few unpleasant ones. This female reminded him of Dani in many ways: beautiful, clever, and predatory. However, despite some off-putting personality traits, Dani was good-hearted. He wasn’t convinced this girl nor her sister could make that claim.
“Prove yourself. Take Lester and show him where the propane is. If he returns with a glowing report, you’ll not only be allowed to live, you’ll become part of our operation.”
“And how will we travel there?”
“Scouts ride bicycles. We don’t use gasoline until we know we’ve found something worth using it for.”
“Oh dear.”
“What’s the problem?”
“My ass has an aversion to bicycle seats. Don’t you have horses or donkeys or camels anywhere? Perhaps a Great Dane?”
“You’ll do this my way or you’ll die.”
“Very well. When do we leave? I need to prepare my backside.”
The smile broadened into something shark-like. “No time like the present.”
***
Lester was the giant from earlier. Fergus could not imagine a more reticent companion.
“We’re traveling the entire sixty miles to Vero Beach in one day?”
The two men pedaled north along the Florida Turnpike. The sun was a malicious, fiery orb of torture in the cloudless sky. The only positive aspect of this excursion was the inherent flatness of the state. Hills would have made it unbearable rather than just miserable.
“Yes.” The man was barely breaking a sweat. He wasn’t even breathing hard.
Fergus hated him for that, if for no other reason.
“You’re not much of a talker, are you?”
“Talking will only make this harder for you, weakling.”
That was the longest sentence he’d gotten from the man all day.
“True enough. I’ll save my pithy chatter for later. We are camping out tonight, I assume? Share some cowboy songs and tall tales over a campfire? Listen to the coyotes howling in the distance while eating beans from dented metal plates?”
The behemoth glanced at him, then turned his focus back to the blacktop stretching before them. Fergus thought he detected a ghost of a grin.
There might be hope for the giant.
Hours later, they were doing an eerily similar version of Fergus’s earlier projection. Lester decided they would make camp for the night and inspect the AT&T facility in the morning. The sun was setting, not optimal conditions for an inspection of a complex of buildings that may or may not contain hostile people.
Lester had a small fire going in record time. A rectangular stainless steel grid with long, fold-out legs hovered above the flames. Canned beef stew simmered in an aluminum skillet. It smelled heavenly after a long, exhausting day with few breaks to drink water, let alone eat anything.
“This is quite a set-up,” Fergus said.
“I like to be prepared.”
“For what? Unexpected cattle rustlers asking for a dinner invitation?”
“Cattle rustlers would be sorry they asked to dine with me.”
“No doubt. We have not officially been introduced. I am Fergus. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lester.”
He offered his hand over the fire, then watched the man ponder whether or not to grant this courtesy. It was a relief when an elephantine hand reached out, dwarfing his own.
The physical contact, as short-lived as it was, provided a wealth of information.
Fergus smiled.
The two sat for a few minutes in companionable silence.
“Lester, I think I might have misjudged you.”
A shrug of the massive shoulders. “Most do.”
“I like camping, and I like campfires.”
“Do you often go on these scouting missions?”
“I do what my boss tells me to do. And I like to camp.”
“But you like the missions, yes?”
“Yes.”
Fergus hid a smile at the brevity which was simply a character trait, not an indication of intelligence. This man was no blue whale.
“You like to lie on the ground and gaze up at a trillion stars in the sky, yes?”
“That’s part of it.”
“What else?”
“I love nature. I like to be outside as much as possible. I prefer to be by myself, but that’s not always an option, in which case I favor people who don’t ask too many questions.”
“A bit of an introvert, then?”
“Classic high-functioning introvert.”
“What did you do? Before?”
“Guess.”
“Hmmm. Clearly you spent a lot of time at the gym...fitness trainer? Lumberjack? Porn star?”
“I wrote books.”
“Really? What about?”
A shrug. Fergus could imagine small worlds being jostled about on those colossal shoulders.
“Everything. Travel guides, short story anthologies, suspense thrillers, a few historical romances, some poetry.”
At that moment, Fergus was closer to being at a complete loss for words than he had ever been in his exceptionally long life.
“I have to admit, I did not see that coming. Who was your publisher? I might have read some of your work.”
“I didn’t have a publisher.”
“Ah. Self-published?”
“No. I never published anything I wrote. I didn’t write books for others. Just for myself.”
“That seems a bit selfish. Why not share your words with the world?”
“My words are for me only.”
“I see. Does your boss know this about you? What is her name, by the way? She never bothered to tell me.”
“That one is Aubrey.”
“Is she an effective leader? Do you like working for her?”