by N. C. Reed
“I never said I could shoot well,” James replied solemnly. After a few seconds, he grinned. “But I can.”
“Don’t scare me like that kid,” Roland let go a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “I need help.
And you’ve got to be that help. There’s no way I can take care of all of you alone.”
“I know,” James nodded somberly. “We’ll make it.”
“You’re pretty upbeat, aren’t you?” Roland smiled.
“I decided long ago not to be otherwise,” James shrugged. “I’ve learned to make the best of whatever situation I find myself in, just like the Apostle Paul.”
“I did that too,” Roland nodded in approval. “We foster kids gotta stick together, right?”
“Right!” James laughed. Everyone else turned to see what was funny, but all they saw was Roland and James exchanging a fist bump.
“Do me a favor, and go find Ralph and Willie. We need to have us a talk.”
-
“Okay, before we can plan too much, I need to know what you fellas know how to do. Anyone of you know anything about cars?” Ralph raised his hand.
“I worked on older cars with my grandfather all the time,” he said. “And I know a little about newer cars, too. Depends on what’s wrong whether or not I can fix ‘em, but I can service ‘em and keep ‘em running.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Roland nodded. “How about welding. Any of you know how to weld?”
“I do,” Willie nodded, and Ralph nodded as well.
“Outstanding!” Roland felt better suddenly. “Can anyone hot-wire a truck?”
None of them answered. James looked at the ground, however.
“Well, I can,” Roland grinned. “Just checking’. Anyway, here’s the deal. We need two things. Well, three. First, can either one o’ you drive?”
“Oh, me!” Ralph raised his hand. “Got a license and everything!”
“What kind of vehicles have you driven, Ralph?” Roland wanted to know.
“Well, my mom’s car, my dad’s truck, my grandfather’s tractor, and...”
“Wait, you know how to drive a tractor?” Roland was interested in that.
“My grandfather is. . .well,” the boy hesitated a minute. “He was a farmer, anyway,” he finished in a mumble, his excited mood gone in an instant. “I used to help him in the summer time. Learn to drive early on a farm.”
“So, you could handle a big truck, then?” Roland asked. “Like a U-Haul, maybe?”
“Sure,” Ralph agreed.
“Even if it was loaded?” Roland pressed.
“Can’t weigh more’n soy beans,” Ralph shrugged. “Drove many a load o’ soy beans to the elevators for my gran.”
“Well, boys, we may just have us the beginnings of a plan, then.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
I slept harder than usual last night, and now I’m sore and stiff. And cranky. I managed to brew me a cup of MRE coffee, and good thing, since I needed the caffeine jolt.
Today, I’m planning on taking Ralph and Willie, and seeing if we can find a box truck. If we can, then the next thing is to find the materials we need to armor the bus up a little. We need to scout for fuel along the way, but I don’t expect to find any. If we’re lucky, we’ll find a truck at a U-Haul place that’s either full, or has a tank on site.
If we’re not lucky, then I’m not sure what we’ll do. I’ll probably have to give up the road block buster option. Or use the Hummer, which I really don’t want to do. We need something bigger, and heavier, if we can find it, and get fuel for it.
Maria hasn’t said much to me since we got back. I haven’t said anything to her, unless she spoke to me first. She still looks at me with wariness, but maybe it’s a little less, now. I’m not sure. I’ve just got a feeling she’s trouble for me, somewhere down the line. And I don’t need any more trouble.
Terri and Deena are really taking on a lot more with the kids, and it’s a big relief. Neither is out of high school yet, but they’re both pretty mature. Terri’s so shy it’s painful to watch her try to talk. And a little funny, though I’d never laugh at her.
I just realized I don’t know any of the little kid’s names. I need to spend more time learning that stuff. Right now, though, I’m so busy, I just don’t have the time. Or the energy.
Maybe that will change, once we’re out of the city.
The more I think about it, the more pissed I become. Where the hell are the social services and emergency services? The people who were...
Oh. Never mind. I’m a soldier, and where am I?
When things really started going to crap, emergency services types stopped coming to work, choosing to stay with their own families. Can’t blame them I guess. Does kinda leave people like me hanging’ though.
But then I should still be on base, shouldn’t I? I mean, wouldn’t do much good. I don’t think anyone was left in my company other than the officers and non-coms on HQ staff. A few enlisted without family, maybe. Only my company sergeant was left in our company chain of command, and no one from my platoon.
He had looked at the empty barracks one morning, and then at me. I’ll never forget the look on his face when he said ‘good luck’. Every time I play that scene over, I realize that I disappointed him that day. But I stayed ‘til the last. We weren’t doing anything. Just sitting there.
At least now, I’m doing something.
-
Roland looked around him and blew his breath out in a long whoosh. There were so many things he needed to do. So many things he needed. Wanted. Not for himself, but for the little children in the group. For all of them.
He needed a place of safety. He had several ideas, but there were problems. Were the places still safe? Were they already occupied? There had been a lot of refugees leaving the larger cities. They had to go somewhere. If Roland could think of it, so could they.
His original plan was in doubt, now. He lacked the fuel, he lacked the Intel to know what lay ahead of them. He had to devise an alternative. More than one. And he had to gather as much as he could supply before he left.
What if he could find a viable community? He hadn’t thought of that before. It wasn’t like everyone had died off. It was true that many people had died. Roland didn’t know the exact number, and doubted if anyone did.
He rubbed his hands across his face, and sat down heavily. This was too much. There were too many unknowns. He had no help, no Intel, no communications. No support of any kind. He didn’t need any of those things if it was just himself.
But it wasn’t just him, was it.
What am I going to do?
-
“Okay, we’re looking for a truck, like a U-Haul. Deena checked the phone book again, and got the closest ones to us. I want you two to take a look at the map, and see if anything looks familiar to you.” Both Ralph and Willie did as ordered, eyeing the map through the plastic, looking at the marks Roland had made. Reluctantly both shook their heads, no.
“That’s all right, we can find them, no problem,” Roland assured them. “I asked because if either of you had been there, you might know more what we could expect to find. Are you two ready to go?”
“Yes, sir,” both answered in unison.
“All right, let’s load up.”
-
The first place was a total bust. Roland didn’t even bother to pull off the road.
“Not much here to pick over,” he smiled at the two boys. “Let’s head for the second.”
But the second, and then the third were both equally worthless for their needs.
“Well, just one more and we can go back,” Roland tried to keep upbeat. It took twenty minutes to reach, and was the farthest from the warehouse. At first look, things looked promising. Roland cautiously pulled into the lot.
There were two large trucks still on the lot, but one had two flats. He ruled it out right away. It would take hours to fix, and they had no way to air the tires without electricity.
The other looked older, but in decent shape. There was also a small truck. It would be handy for hauling, but lacked the weight to drive through a road block if needed. It would have to be the older one.
“Okay, we need to grab the keys if we can find ‘em,” Roland ordered. “I want to check them all for fuel. There might be some gas we can siphon from the other two for the one we’re taking.” They moved inside cautiously.
“Ralph, take Willie and find the keys,” Roland ordered when no one challenged them. “I’ll keep watch. Let’s hustle, but stay quiet. Okay?”
“Yes, sir,” Ralph nodded. “C’mon Willie.” The two went to the desk, and Roland was pleased that they made very little noise.
“Got’em!” Ralph whispered loudly, holding up three key rings.
“Good deal,” Roland nodded. “Let’s check.”
They quickly and quietly moved to the truck Roland intended to take. He inserted the key and gave it a turn. He didn’t try to start it, not yet. He simply watched the fuel gauge.
The gauge rose slowly, stopping just below a half tank. Much better than he had hoped. He shut the key off, and quickly checked the other two. The truck with the flats was empty. The smaller truck, however, still had more than a quarter tank of fuel.
Roland took a siphon from his Hummer, and quickly attached the hoses, pumping the fuel from the small truck by hand. He had two small fuel cans, and after he filled the first, Ralph and Willie hauled it to their truck, while Roland kept pumping fuel.
They managed to get a total of eight gallons, more or less, before the siphon began sucking air. Roland was grateful for the fuel, but wished it had been more. He would have to be happy with what he had, however.
The larger truck now had three quarters of a tank of fuel. It would have to do. As he had feared, their chosen truck refused to start, or even turn over. He produced a set of jumper cables, hooking them to the Hummer. After a few minutes of letting the Hummer run, the U-Haul sputtered to life. Roland quickly closed and secured the hoods on both trucks.
“Well Ralph, here’s where the rubber meets the road,” Roland grinned at the teen. “You said you could drive.”
“I can handle it,” Ralph promised solemnly.
“Then let’s head out. I’ll lead the way and you follow. Can you find your way back from here?” He nodded.
“Okay. Willie, go with him. If anything happens, if we’re attacked, let me deal with it. You two run for it. If you have to, dump the truck and make your way back on foot. Don’t lose your bags,” he pointed to the two backpacks he had put together for them.
“If you have to bail, grab them and go. Leave anything else.”
Roland hated having to use the two boys for this, but he really didn’t have any choice. He couldn’t do all these things alone. He didn’t have enough hands. If he had just one more adult...
“We’re ready,” Ralph called from the truck. Willie was strapping in beside him.
“I’ll lead,” Roland told him. “Use the radio only, only, in an emergency. Someone tailing you is an emergency. Needing to use the bathroom, not an emergency.” The radios were GRMS/FRS hand-held, so anyone who happened to be on the same frequency would hear them. But it was better than flashing lights and blowing horns, which attracted unwanted attention.
Ralph nodded his understanding, and handed the radio to a now strapped in Willie. Roland took one last look around, then headed for the warehouse. The U-Haul pulled smoothly onto the street behind him and closed up cleanly.
Ralph really could drive. Good boy.
CHAPTER NINE
Even though he was paying attention, things spiraled out of control before Roland even realized it. A pair of technicals burst out of an alley behind the truck just as they crossed the halfway point to the warehouse.
Someone must have seen the truck, along with the Hummer, and decided it was something worth taking.
“Mister Roland, Mister Roland,” Willie’s scared voice came over the radio. “There’s somebody ‘hind us, Mister Roland!”
“I know, buddy, no problem. Tell Ralph I’m going to pull over a bit, and you guys speed up and go around me, okay? Don’t stop, no matter what.”
“Yes, sir!”
As he made room, the big truck eased to the left and started coming around him. Ralph really did know how to drive pretty well; Roland was pleased to see. The U-Haul wasn’t built for speed, but it was steady. Roland readied his rifle, now a select fire M-4 courtesy of Uncle Sam, and braced it on the window sill of the driver’s side door. The U-Haul came even with him, and he could see Willie’s scared face peering down at him from the higher cab. Roland winked at the boy, and then grinned, and Willie grinned back at him just a little as Ralph picked up speed in the larger truck.
The two technicals had been reinforced with parts from other vehicles, odd and end pieces of steel, and even some chain link fencing. Roland couldn’t see any crew served weapons in his mirror, but they had small arms and were shooting like ammunition wasn’t a problem.
The two cars split, just then, with one pulling behind the Humvee while the other stayed on the U-Haul. Roland ignored the one behind him. They could shoot their under-powered rifles at the armored Humvee all day, and not do more than scratch the paint. Instead, he concentrated on the one following the boys. As soon as they pulled even with him, Roland opened fire, spraying the entire vehicle with rifle fire.
Just two seconds or so too late to prevent one of the thugs inside from hitting the rear tires on the U-Haul’s passenger side. Roland was sure Ralph tried to keep the big truck straight, but he doubted anyone could have. The truck was doing fifty miles an hour and gaining when the tires were hit, leaving shredded rubber all over the road. Roland ducked on instinct when a large piece of tire from one of the dual wheels hit the windshield in front of him, but managed to stay on the road.
He watched helplessly as the events played out in slow motion. The truck’s now tireless rear wheels slammed into the pavement with the truck still moving. As they dug into the street, it was like the boys had tossed an anchor out, and hung it on an immovable object.
The truck pulled to the right and began to slide. Roland could only imagine what Ralph was going through, trying to control the big truck. As he watched, the truck began to tilt up on its left side. For a second Roland thought it had stopped, and would settle back on its wheels, but instead the truck fell onto its driver’s side, and started sliding down the road, still traveling at a good rate of speed.
Bullet’s careening off the rear of the Humvee reminded Roland that he had problems too. The first technical, the one that had disabled the truck, had fallen back, apparently taken out of service by Roland’s rifle fire. The second was still on his tail, and still firing.
Roland quickly reloaded his rifle, managing to keep the Humvee between the gang and the truck. He could see the truck coming to a halt, its forward energy finally used up in the slide down the street. Roland maneuvered the Humvee around the front of the truck and slid to a halt, rifle slamming rounds at the remaining technical.
The thugs in this one were smarter than the first, and stopped maybe three car lengths away, dismounting. Roland saw at least five people leaving the vehicle, managing to catch two of them in a hail of rifle fire, dropping them to the ground.
Sparing a glance through the windshield of the truck, he could see the two boys working to free themselves. Roland could smell fuel, and realized that their hard work gathering fuel for the truck was lost, now. He turned back to the thugs in front of him, snapping a few shots off to keep them honest. The hail of return gunfire forced him to duck behind the upturned front of the truck for cover.
He glanced again at the U-Haul, to see Willie working his way out of the passenger window, now pointing skyward. Ralph was kicking out the windshield in front of him, already splintered by their wreck.
“Willie! Don’t go out that window!” Roland yelled. “Follow Ralph and come to me!”
“I’m coming, M
ister Roland!” Willie shouted, still pulling himself out of the window.
“Willie, get back!” Roland shouted again, motioning for the teen to drop back into the truck. He never knew if Willie heard him, or understood.
Willie’s head popped out of the window. As he struggled to pull himself out, he was torn to pieces by gunfire.
Roland froze as the small body slumped against the frame of the door. Ralph yelled Willie’s name, trying to get to him. Roland would vaguely remember waving Ralph away, motioning for him to get out of the truck.
Then, he snapped. A cold feeling came over Roland as the Calm settled over him in a way he’d never encountered. Coldly furious at the needless death of brave, scared little Willie, Roland shut down emotionally.
He walked calmly to the Humvee and pulled his pack out. Setting it on the ground, he helped Ralph from the truck, stopping twice to fire back at their attackers, forcing them to keep their distance.
“We gotta help Willie, Mister Roland!” Ralph exclaimed as he extricated himself from the wrecked truck.
“Willie. . .Willie’s gone, Ralph,” Roland told him calmly. Too calmly. Ralph looked at Roland and froze.
“I want you to get in the Hummer, and get outta here,” Roland ordered. He stuck his rifle around the front of the truck and emptied the magazine in random fire. He let it fall into his hand, and tossed it through the window of the Humvee.
“What about you?” Ralph asked. “And we can’t just leave Willie!”
“I’ll take care of Willie,” Roland promised sincerely. “You need to do like I told you. Tell James that it’s up to him until I get back. And you. . .you help him, Ralph, all you can. Okay?” Ralph nodded, not knowing what else to do.
“Off you go, then,” Roland tried to smile, but it died on his lips. “Don’t look back, and don’t stop until you’re back inside the warehouse. Go!”
Ralph hesitated for a second, looking up at Willie’s body. Gulping, he ran. When he started pulling away, Roland stepped out from behind the truck and opened fire.
