My brows furrowed. What?
He chuckled. “Yeah, who knew, huh? These things can survive a nuke, but be killed by a condiment.”
I had no idea what he was talking about, and it must have been written all over my face, because he popped the seal off the top of the shell and poured its contents onto the table. Several dozen small, white shapes tumbled out, followed by some black powder; gunpowder I realized.
I gaped. “Salt? That’s it?” This was impossible. How could something so ordinary destroy these things?”
Jaz shook his head. “Not just salt – rock salt.” He picked up one of the small white rocks. “The rocks have to be big enough so they don’t blow apart when the powder ignites. They need to be big enough and hard enough to hit the target with enough force to pierce the skin.” He got up, and turned around so his back faced me, pulling up his shirt. “See this?”
He ran his fingers over the top of his jeans, and I couldn’t resist a quick glance at the muscles rippling as he turned around. My stomach did a little dance, but I reluctantly dragged my eyes away to look at the spot he indicated. It was pock marked, like the surface of the moon. I reached out a hand to draw it over the scars, before realizing what I was doing. I didn’t know this guy from Adam. I snatched my hand away.
“One time, Ted got a little overzealous with the load-out of his shells. I couldn’t sit comfortably for a week.” He grinned briefly, before the shadow that seemed to accompany any memory of his dead friends wiped it away.
I grabbed his huge bear paw of a hand. “I think I’d have liked your friends.”
He stilled for a moment, before releasing a breath. “Yeah, you would have.” He turned to face me. “And they’d have liked you, too.”
He turned away to hide the grief in his eyes. “Best go turn the genny off and get this place secured for the night.”
I watched him walk over to examine the gaping hole where Mr. Shotgun had blasted the lock off the side door to the diner, then head outside with Tray following. I cleaned up the diner quickly, embarrassed I'd let it get so sloppy while he rummaged around in the back of his pickup. He returned with some tools and after ten minutes of banging, buzzing, and squeaking had the hole plugged and the door screwed shut.
I started to clear a space on the floor. I glanced at him. “I don’t suppose you have a spare sleeping bag, do you? I’ve been sleeping under a tablecloth for a week.” My back groaned in protest. It didn’t want to spend another night on the cold tile floor.
Jaz grinned at me. “I can do better than that.” He went back outside, returning with two large bundles. He tossed one to me.
“Roll it out on the floor,” he said. “The pump is battery powered.”
I did as he said. It was the size of a large camp bed, rubberized fabric at the base with an integrated sleeping bag. I located the switch at the bottom, and, within five minutes, we had two single-bed-sized inflatable mattresses.
“Wow,” I said. “A little bit of luxury in the middle of nowhere.”
Jaz chuckled. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet. Just wait ‘til we get to my cabin.”
His cabin. He hadn’t said much about it; just that it was in North Dakota, on the edge of a lake. We’d be starting out for there in the morning, but we had to survive the night.
Could we? I looked out at the darkness, then glanced at the blank, empty screen of the TV. Those things were everywhere, but was Jaz right? We were dark. Two lonely souls in the middle of nowhere. Would it be enough?
As we both settled into bed with Tray curled up on a blanket at our feet and the inflatable mattresses creaking below us, I felt the urge to reach across the tiny gap between the beds to hold Jaz’s hand.
I didn’t have to. His calloused fingers found mine. I let them interlace, ignoring the leap my heart made.
“We’re gonna live, Jenn,” he whispered. I grasped his hand, tight. I didn’t want to let go, and I knew he didn’t either.
We fell asleep at some stage. I didn’t care. I wasn’t alone. We weren’t alone.
***
Jaz
Jennifer’s hand felt warm in mine. The lights were out now that the generator was off, but tiny shafts of moonlight speared through the canopies shading the windows.
They lit up her chestnut hair, giving it a sheen of silver, and as the moon rose, it was as if sparks shone around her face.
I watched her, entranced, as her breathing settled and her grip softened. I laid her hand on her breast softly, so as not to wake her.
I’d called her a kid, but she was anything but.
Part of her still teetered on the edge of giving up, but I knew she was stronger than that.
I couldn’t blame her for wanting to end it.
Pulling up to the diner earlier, part of me knew I was looking for a place to die; somewhere human to end it all.
I had never expected to meet another survivor.
Damn. I never expected to meet a girl.
Then the guilt hit me – hard. I almost gagged, and I snatched my hand away from Jennifer’s.
I rubbed my hand through my cropped hair, my lungs constricting, and fought the urge to punch the floor. Part of me wanted to curse, and the guilt threatened to overcome me as I remembered Sherri.
What the FUCK was I doing?
I shook my head. I – we – were on the way to safety. Okay, maybe that whole concept was crap, but my family was gone. My friends were dead. So were hers. The goal was all that was left.
I’d get the girl to safety, wherever that was. I was pretty sure the lodge was far enough away to secure that. Winter was coming. It would hide us.
I turned back to watch Jennifer’s sleeping form.
I’d keep her safe.
Tray woofed softly in her sleep, her front legs pedaling as though she were riding a bicycle. I grinned. Yeah, Tray. We’ll keep her safe.
Chapter Seven
The Journey
Jaz
We started out early the next day, after sunrise. We had a long way to go, and it would take us more than two days to reach my lodge. We needed to find somewhere on the way to hole up, somewhere safe; though I had no idea where “safe” was anymore.
As I drove along the highway, however, Jenifer looking out the window with Tray dozing restlessly on her lap, the memories of the farm haunted me. Not the interior so much; more the dead and dying flora around the buildings. As I’d driven away from the farm, the crops had turned into more familiar, healthy fields. I shuddered as I realized there must be something there, like at the cabin, leaching the life from the surrounding area.
Another thought hit me. I’d spent the night in my jeep, yards away from the farm, but nothing had happened. If there had been any Treaters in the area, I should be dead, not driving north. My mind worked in overdrive, trying to solve the enigma of my survival. I drew a blank, so I spent the rest of the day talking to Jennifer, doing my best to keep our spirits high.
Around 3:00 p.m. I started to look for somewhere to spend the night. We ended up in a barn just over the border into North Dakota. As we left South Dakota, the terrain grew greener. The barn was surrounded by trees, and I took the sounds of birds to be a good sign. My GPS hadn’t gone down yet; apparently, the satellites were still up there. It told me we were around thirty miles from the nearest town.
“You hear that, Jennifer?” I asked, as I unpacked our inflatable bedrolls. “This place is alive.” And it was. I felt the vitality of my surroundings seep into my bones. Tray ran in circles, barking loudly and merrily, almost healed from her injuries. She was a good dog, but she didn't enjoy the car much.
Jennifer walked in a slow circle around the clearing in front of the barn. “Yes, isn’t it wonderful?” She grinned widely. “I love the sound of the birds. It reminds me of...” Her smile faltered for an instant.
“Of?”
She shook her head, the smile returning. “Nothing…It’s just Dad used to bring us up here sometimes.”
I took her hand
. “Come on, let’s eat. We can risk a small fire to warm up those sausages.”
As dusk fell, I heard a sound I realized I hadn’t heard for the past few nights: crickets. I smiled at the oddly familiar chorus of chirrups. At last, we’d found a little pocket of life besides the three of us.
We heated the food, reveling in the beauty of the wilderness surrounding us. Fireflies flitted through the trees at dusk, attracted to the light of the fire. As the embers died, we retreated to our sleeping bags. I was gratified that Jennifer managed to sleep far more easily than she had the previous night, and a little perturbed when Tray snuggled up beside her instead of me. Traitor, I thought, with an inner chuckle. They both needed to recover, and although it was baby steps, I’d take what I could get.
***
Jennifer
We reached Jaz’s lodge as dusk fell the following evening. We might have made it there earlier, but I’d insisted on a stop at a town drugstore on the way, even though Jaz wanted to get to this cabin of his as soon as he could. When I explained why we had to stop, it shut him up so fast I went into a giggling fit. How a grown man could be reduced to a red-faced little boy at the mention of tampons had me in fits. And when I pointed out that he’d forgotten toilet paper? His expression had been priceless.
His eyes widened when I piled an entire shelf of chocolate bars into a large bag, and hoisted it over my shoulder. I thought about the tampons. Yeah, he’d thank me for this; he just didn’t know it yet.
As it turned out, he ended up raiding the drugstore to supplement the supplies he’d already appropriated. At my suggestion, he picked out another few items he’d neglected to consider. Deodorant, soap, toothpaste…those sorts of things. Men! I’d rolled my eyes at him, but he’d just shrugged.
While he was making some last-minute selections, I wandered over to the books and magazines section. For once, I didn't feel like picking up a People magazine or a hot bodice-ripper romance novel. I scanned the selection, and noticed a cover that appealed to me. I wasn't much of a reader, but I would have nothing but time, so I picked the book up to read the back. Souls of the Never, by CJ Rutherford. I'd never heard of him. I looked down at his picture. Not bad, for an old guy, but nowhere near as hot as Jaz. Shrugging, I tossed the book in with the candy bars.
Back on the road, the miles flew by, partly by virtue of all the cops probably being dead and partly by the tuned roar of the pickup’s engine. Jaz, it seemed, liked to look after his ride.
We’d turned off the highway over three hours before, and the terrain had grown increasingly rugged and wild. The dirt roadway we drove down now was rutted and winding, sidling up one hill and down another. On one occasion, Jaz cursed as he had to stop and use the winch at the front of the jeep to drag a fallen tree off the path.
He seemed to sense my “Are we there yet?” as he turned to me, his lips twisted into a crooked grin. I’d grown to love his smile. It always reached his eyes, and now, they were bright and gleaming. “Ready?” he asked, as the pickup crested what I’d assumed to be yet another hill.
I gasped. The nose of the truck dipped to reveal a lake of molten orange. The sun was setting over the hills at the far side of a wide and open lake, and hues of gold and pink and purple glistened off its almost mirror-like surface. It was one of the most beautiful scenes I’d ever seen.
“Kinda special, ain’t it?” Jaz asked, pride in his voice.
“It’s…amazing,” I replied dreamily. It was. I’d played Lord of the Rings Online a few years back, and I remembered how long it had taken me to get to Rivendell, and how I’d felt when I’d seen it. This was better. There were no elven spires, but the pure, raw, wild beauty of the place drew me in.
***
Jaz
The warmth of Jennifer’s hand in mine and the awed expression on her face made the round-about route to the lodge worth it. I could have shaved an hour off the journey with a direct approach, but I figured Jennifer might appreciate the view from the eastern rise. I’d timed it perfectly, the sun just setting over the distant horizon, turning the lake to liquid gold.
I heard her gasp as she saw the lodge for the first time, and I felt an answering warmth in my gut. I had to admit, I was pretty proud of the place. My grandfather had built the original cabin over fifty years ago with his bare hands, using only what the surrounding land provided.
I suppose Jennifer had expected a quaint old log cabin like on the maple syrup jars. Indeed, the original building was still there, nestled at one corner of the complex, but that single room had expanded to become something more akin to a Roman villa.
Some of my fondest childhood memories held the moments my dad and I had extended the original structure using the same logs it had been built from, felled from the surrounding trees. Now, even more rooms grew all around an open courtyard that held a hot tub and barbeque area.
I remembered lying sleepless during those long nights in the orphanage, wondering if I’d ever see the place again. For years, I’d thought it had been sold to clear one debt or another, so when I’d been called to the CO’s office three years after joining the Corps to find a guy in a suit sitting holding a briefcase, I hadn’t a clue what was going on. I remember thinking I must be in some sort of trouble, but for the life of me, I couldn’t think why.
When the man handed me some documents, explaining they were the deed to the lodge and access to the stock portfolio my parents had invested in a few years before their deaths, I was stunned.
When I saw the number of zeros in the ‘estimated worth’ box, my Master Chief Petty Officer had the grace to offer me a seat before I fell on my ass. It was more money than I’d ever dreamed of. I wasn’t rich by any stretch of the imagination, but I could leave the Corps and…That thought had lasted less than a second. The Corps had been my family, as much as the O’Reillys had been. So, I had used the money to renovate the lodge and turn it into the luxurious man-cave it was now.
My throat bobbed, and my eyes stung. The guys hadn’t just come up here to fish this year; at least, not the entire time. They’d come to help me finish this place off, finalizing it into the perfect sporting retreat for a guy and his buds. That would never happen now. Jennifer seemed to sense my melancholy as she leaned into me.
“Thank you,” she said. Overhead, an eagle’s cry pierced the evening, drawing both our gazes as it soared above, searching for prey.
I squeezed her hand in acknowledgement. “No. Thank you.”
***
“I’m heading around back to start the main generator,” I said, after parking the truck outside the garage. “Would you mind helping Tray…uh, do her business?”
A big smile lit Jennifer’s face, way out of proportion to the nature of the request. She immediately opened her door, carefully lowering Tray to the ground. The dog was almost completely healed, and she didn’t need the extra coddling.
As if reading my mind, Tray glanced up at me and then pathetically raised her front paw to Jennifer, as if she had just hurt it. I blinked, unwilling to believe what I’d seen, as Jennifer immediately bent over Tray and began cooing at her, asking if she thought she could go “pee-pee, foo-foo” before we went inside. I turned away in mock disgust, a grin on my face the moment Jennifer couldn't see it. The damned dog was playing us!
I rounded the building, stopping dead for a moment while looking at the firepit. The remains of Nessie had long since been carried away by scavengers, of course, but the logs we’d sat against and the pit itself were bittersweet reminders of what would never be again. A cold ball settled at my core as it hit home once again that my friends were gone. No, not just gone. They’d been butchered. A wave of rage washed over me, and I choked it back. It didn't belong here now… not with Jennifer and Tray.
“I was wond –” Jennifer began quietly, carrying Tray in her arms as she stepped toward me. Her eyes widened as she stared at the monster 30 kW Kohler behind the wooden privacy fence that hid the unit from casual view. She turned then, looking around the back
yard of the lodge, surveying what she could see of the property that headed toward the old-growth forest.
I shook my head with a smile. “The propane tanks are buried,” I told her. “We have two one-thousand-gallon tanks, with a dual backup system since the winters here are so hard.”
The rage I had felt a moment ago dissipated like early morning mist on the lake. I was glad there were none of those things nearby, I realized, even though it would sate my bloodlust to hunt them down. All I wanted to do was keep Jennifer safe and away from the bastards – and, preferably, to keep that highly impressed, wondrous expression on her face for as long as possible.
“What were you wondering?” I prompted.
Jennifer turned back to me sheepishly. “I forgot.”
Okay, so I'm a jerk. I laughed – no, I belly-laughed at her, my amusement only increasing when she set Tray down so she could cross her arms and give me a stern, chastising look. The laughter took on a life of its own and quickly became something I hadn't intended. I stopped abruptly when I realized there was a hysterical edge to the hilarity, and what I was feeling had morphed from amusement at Jennifer to grief for my friends. I turned away slightly as I got my breath under control, but Jennifer was too perceptive.
“Are you all right?" Her voice was gentle, but neither pitying nor intrusive.
I took a deep breath to settle my racing pulse and considered lying to her. I could tell her I was fine, that I didn’t imagine going on a one-man crusade against the world outside this valley, that it didn’t create a burning rage inside me to think about those abominations killing my friends…but the look of sincere concern in her eyes pierced my heart. Besides, I had promised myself to stop lying to her. “No, not really,” I said, after a long moment.
“Wanna talk about it?” Her voice was gentle and compassionate.
I looked into her eyes and saw they were silver-rimmed with moisture; it shouldn't have surprised me she was so empathetic, but it did. “I’d like that.” I gathered her hand in mine. “For now, though, how about we go find a room.” I nodded toward the front of the lodge and the wide wooden steps leading up to the door. Then I kicked myself mentally, turning back to her with an abashed expression. Shit! Well done, Jaz, you dirty old bastard. “I didn’t mean – I mean – there are several rooms…”
Treaters: Book One of the Divine Conflict. Page 8
