by Harley Tate
Taking his time and respecting the owner was the least he could do. Until humanity and common decency became liabilities one hundred percent of the time, Walter would use his best judgment. Today, they still applied.
Placing his palms beneath the window frame, Walter pushed, hoping it wasn’t locked, but the window didn’t budge. Damn it. There had to be an easy way in somehow.
He strode around the side of the cabin, assessing the options. Another window sat high on the side and Walter didn’t waste any time. With his hands gripped on the rough log wall, fingers digging into the grooves for purchase, he hauled himself up. Two feet off the ground and he could test the window.
The groaning sound of wood on wood as it moved might as well have been the opening chord of Walter’s favorite song. With a few more shoves, the window opened enough for him to fit inside.
Using the sill as leverage, Walter hoisted himself up and shoved his upper body through the gap. The smell of wood and dust hit his nostrils, confirming no one was home. The place must not have been aired out in months.
He dragged the rest of his body through and landed in a heap on the wood floor. A cloud of dust bloomed around him and Walter covered his mouth to keep from sucking in a lungful.
As he stood, Drew’s voice sounded from the front. “Are you in yet or do I need to find a rock?”
Walter hustled up to the front door, banging into a coffee table and almost knocking over a chair on the way. “I found a way in. Hold on.”
He managed to unlock the door and swung it wide.
His duffel hit him smack in the chest. “Good, because these bags are heavy and I need a break.”
Drew eased past him and flopped on the single couch, sending another cloud of dust into the air. His hacking cough made Walter smile.
“I forgot to tell you the place needed a good cleaning. Sorry.”
“No you’re not.” Drew chuckled as he stretched out and kicked his shoes off. “Damn, this feels good.”
Walter bent to fish his flashlight from his bag and turned it on before shutting and locking the cabin door. “Don’t get too comfortable until we check the place out. If we need to leave in a hurry, we should be ready.”
Drew groaned. “Speak for yourself, but I’m not going anywhere. The place would have to be on fire, flooding, and under attack before you could peel me off this lumpy couch.”
Walter smiled. “You were pretty quick to run back in Eugene.”
“That’s before I walked five hundred miles.” Drew leaned back and launched into song, his voice cracking and off-key as he belted out the lyrics to “I’m Gonna Be.”
“Good thing we aren’t hunting tonight. You’ve probably scared off everything from rabbits to feral cats with that screeching.”
Drew sang even louder when he hit the part about waking up next to a woman and Walter thought about his wife.
Tracy needed him. Madison, his daughter, needed him. Part of him wanted to push on, to not stop until he fell at the doorstep of their house in Sacramento.
But what good would that do? How could he help them exhausted and hungry? He needed his wits and strength to be an asset. As Drew kept on singing, Walter surveyed the cabin. They weren’t five hundred miles from home, but they still had a few days’ worth of walking ahead.
His flashlight beam bounced over a dry sink and cabinets, a table for two with turned legs and faded black paint, and a cot nestled in the far corner. The place wasn’t much, but it was warm and dry.
A lantern on the counter caught his eye and Walter reached for it. A small butane fuel cartridge ran the light and he shook it with a smile. One flick of the switch and a couple pumps of the starter and the cabin turned from a black hole to a dim glow.
Things were looking up. One night there and they would come up with a plan. They didn’t have a choice.
Walter walked over to the cabinets and tugged open the first one. His eyes lit up in surprise. We’ve come to the right place.
Chapter Eight
MADISON
Sloane Residence
8:00 p.m.
“Where are they? They should have been home hours ago.” Madison paced in the kitchen, fingers twining around each other as she fidgeted and worried. I never should have let them leave without me.
With one hand, she tugged her hair back off her face and looped it into a loose bun. It was still damp from the shower Wanda managed to rig up in the backyard. Who knew a five-gallon bucket and some old plastic tubing could be so handy?
But even the soap and water didn’t wash away Madison’s worry. Her mother, Brianna, and Tucker wouldn’t be out after dark unless something happened. She knew it.
“Your mom said they had to stop somewhere first, right? Maybe it took longer than they thought.”
Madison paused long enough to cast a glance at Peyton. “You think so?”
“It’s as good a theory as any.” He ran a hand towel over his wet hair to rub it dry. “I don’t know how clean I am after using the same water you all did to shower, but at least I got wet.”
“Even dirty water gets the stink off.”
“Does it?” Peyton lifted his arm to smell his armpit. He scowled. “If you say so. But deodorant works a hell of a lot better.”
Madison stopped to peer out the front window for the fiftieth time since she wandered into the living room. “What if one of them is hurt? What if they ran into someone else? What if other people already broke into Walmart? They might need our help.”
Peyton perched on the arm of the sofa. “Your mom asked us to stay here. She wouldn’t have done that if it wasn’t important.”
Madison crossed her arms. “She did that to keep me safe.”
“That’s not the only reason.” Peyton motioned to the baseball bat sitting by the front door. “Don’t forget about our visitor the other day. Bill could come back anytime and you and I both know he’s armed.”
“You don’t really think he’d attack us, do you? Everyone in the neighborhood knows him. He would never get away with it!”
“Are you sure? Have you seen the police since that idiot in the park tried to arrest us? I haven’t.”
Madison frowned. “No. But that doesn’t mean they don’t exist. Or that they won’t be coming through here.”
“The police have other things to worry about besides a middle-class neighborhood in a good part of town. Think about it. Between what your mom said she heard and that guy who fought with the cop in the park, it sounds like there’s riots all over downtown. If that’s true, the police already have their hands full.”
He pushed off the couch and picked up the bat, patting his palm with the barrel. “Think about it. Riots. Fires. Prisons running out of food and water. Jails at capacity with people awaiting trial. There’s no way courts are working. Without janitors and cooks and suppliers, there are a whole lot of bad people out there ready to explode.”
He swung the bat in a practice swing. “I wouldn’t want to be a cop right now.”
Peyton had a point. Once they were cocooned inside her parents’ house, Madison had pushed all thoughts of the deteriorating outside world from her mind. But it was all still there.
Grocery stores. Gun and pawn shops. Restaurants with stocked kitchens and storerooms. So many vulnerable places. So many windows waiting to be smashed. All it took was one enterprising individual and then the rest would follow.
How long before the more dangerous parts of town turned into a free-for-all? Had it happened already? Were they next?
“How much of a target are we?”
Peyton scrunched up his face as he thought. The motion reminded Madison of their days spent hovering over plants in the greenhouse. A wrinkled nose was a sure sign Peyton was lost in thought.
Madison smiled at the memory, but it was fleeting. She wondered about all the college kids who were partying for spring break in Southern California and Mexico. How many were still alive? How many would ever make it home?
At last, Peyton a
nswered. “I don’t know. But Bill saw the supplies in the Jeep and he thinks we have more. He said as much at the meeting. Who knows who overheard and is thinking of ways to break in.”
He glanced up at the oversized picture window. “Do you all have any spare plywood lying around?”
Madison scanned her memory. “Not that I can think of.”
“We need to secure the window. It’s too exposed.”
She glanced around. “We could push the entertainment center in front of it. The back is solid wood.”
Peyton turned toward the large television cabinet and nodded. “That should work. Want to help?”
“Sure.” Madison walked over and took up position on one side of the cabinet. “I hope you’re prepared to take the laboring oar on this. I remember my dad complaining about it almost throwing out his back.”
Peyton lowered into a squat, his hands braced on either side of the unit. “Where do you think he is right now?”
Madison couldn’t think about her dad. She changed the subject. “Let’s get this moved, okay?”
“On three. On, two, three.”
Ugh. Madison lifted, using all of her leg and back strength, but she could barely get her side off the ground. Payton on the other hand, picked his side up with ease and began to drag it toward the window.
Madison limped along after him, half-scooting, half-carrying the monster shelving unit the few steps to the window. She set her side down in a massive thud, practically dropping it the last few inches. She stood up and groaned. “Remind me to never do that again.”
“I didn’t think it was too bad.” Peyton stood back and eyed it, confirming the wood covered the glass. “It looks a little off center. Do you want—”
“No!” Madison almost shouted her refusal before flopping down onto the couch. “I’m not touching that thing. You want to move it, be my guest.”
Peyton shrugged and went to work, sliding the entertainment center a bit to the left, then to the right until he deemed it perfect. “That should do it.”
“What was that noise? Is everything all right?”
Wanda walked into the living room, hair dripping wet and Fireball curled up in her arms. The friendly little cat mewled as he saw Madison and reached out a paw in hello.
She walked up and scratched him behind the ears until he squirmed in Wanda’s arms. “We moved the entertainment center to block the front window.”
Wanda’s brow knit together. “Why? That was such a nice view.”
“From outside, too. Anyone could have looked in to see what we are up to. It’s also easy to break. One well-aimed rock and we’d be breached.”
“You don’t think someone would do that, do you?” Wanda glanced around as if she could see through the walls. “The neighborhood seems so quiet and friendly. Apart from that one man, I suppose.”
“Bill pointed a gun at us, Wanda. If he’s willing to do that only a few days after the power is out, what do you think will happen in a few weeks?”
Wanda grew sheepish. “I don’t know, do you? Have either of you thought about what we’re doing and why?”
Madison stilled, confidence giving way to doubt. “Not really. When the power went out, we were all focused on getting here. Everything we did, every choice we made, was all about getting home. Now that we’re here…”
“There isn’t a manual for this sort of thing. No textbook to learn from. We’re on our own.” Peyton grabbed the bat from where he left it and took another practice swing.
Madison clutched at her middle as a chill rushed through her. “I’m worried about my mom and the others. Something’s gone wrong, I can feel it.”
“Do you really want to go searching for them? We can take Brianna’s Jeep.”
“But then everyone will know we’re gone. The house will be exposed.” Madison chewed on her lip. Each choice put them at risk: go and leave the house vulnerable, stay and hope her mom and friends made it home alive.
Was this what it would always be like from now on? Teetering on the edge of a decision, not knowing whether to step back or jump?
Life a week ago was stable, dependable, safe. Now Madison didn’t know whether the neighbor was about to shoot the lock off her front door or if her mother was trapped in a Walmart across town or somewhere on the road needing her help.
And her father…
Pushing her father out of her mind had become an art form. Where was he? Hong Kong? Seattle? The Sacramento Airport? Was he even alive?
Madison snorted back a wave of emotion and the tears that threatened to flow along with it. She didn’t have time to break down. She didn’t have time to be weak and afraid. Peyton and Wanda and fuzzy little Fireball needed her.
Her mom and Brianna and Tucker needed her.
The world might be going to hell in a handbasket, but Madison wasn’t going to hop in and ride it down. She exhaled and straightened her back. “Let’s root through the garage and see if we can’t find something to secure the back windows. We need to make it as difficult as possible to break in.”
“What about your mom?” Peyton’s face creased with sympathy. Madison’s mom had been a surrogate mother to Peyton for the last couple years. She knew he worried, too.
“She’s a strong woman. I have to trust that she’ll find a way to make it home.”
Wanda stepped back to let Madison and Peyton pass. As she did so, Fireball squirmed out of her arms. He landed on his paws with a soft thud and scampered into the kitchen.
Madison smiled. “You want to help us secure the house? How about you chase all the mice away?”
“Maybe we should train him to catch them, instead. We might need the protein.”
“Don’t be gross.”
“I bet they taste just like chicken.”
As Madison launched a soft punch at Peyton’s shoulder, Fireball lowered into a crouch. His mouth opened and he hissed at the sliding glass door.
“What’s he doing?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he sees his reflection.”
Madison turned to Wanda. “Turn off the lantern.”
The woman rushed over to the kitchen table and flicked the lantern off. As darkness descended on the Sloane house, Fireball hissed again.
Madison peered out into the night. Oh, no. “Peyton, get the shotgun. There’s someone in the yard.”
Chapter Nine
MADISON
Sloane Residence
9:00 p.m.
“Are you sure?”
Madison nodded, clutching at Peyton’s arm as they ducked around the corner. “The fence doesn’t move on its own.”
“How many were there? Did they have weapons? Were they just looking around or trying to break in?” Peyton shot questions rapid-fire into the dark, but Madison shook her head.
“I don’t know. I only saw one, but that doesn’t mean anything. We need to get ready. No matter how many are out there, we have to keep them out.”
Wanda exclaimed under her breath. “I’m not cut out for this. First at George’s place, now here. Please tell me you aren’t going to shoot anyone today.”
Madison blinked. “Who shot someone?”
Wanda muttered. “No one. Just forget I said anything. What can I do to help?”
“Can you get your revolver?” Peyton inched forward, head poking around the corner to scope out the backyard.
“It’s in the guest room. I’ll have to walk right by the door. What if someone sees me?”
“It’s a risk we’ll have to take.” Madison exhaled. “Get it and meet us back here.”
“All right.” Wanda took off, rushing past the sliding door and heading toward the hallway.
“I’ll get the shotgun. It’s in the living room.” Peyton began to move, but Madison reached out, clutching at his arm. “Be careful.”
“I will.” He handed her the bat and took off.
Madison wrapped her fingers around the shaft, nails digging into the grip as she steadied her nerves. Please just be a nosy neighb
or or a man out looking for his dog. Not a thief. Burglar. Predator.
After the first few hisses, Fireball ran off, presumably hiding beneath a bed or otherwise making himself scarce. If only Madison could transform him into a lion, a massive wild counterpart to his little flame-colored self.
But Fireball wouldn’t be coming to her rescue. No, Madison, Peyton, and Wanda were on their own. Two college kids and a fifty-something librarian. Not the best trained defense force around, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
Madison steeled herself. They needed to be ready to do whatever necessary. She clutched the bat tighter and eased toward the sliding glass door. She couldn’t stop a rock, but she could stop a person. She readied the bat and waited.
“Any movement out there?”
Peyton’s voice made her jump. As her heart slowed down from heart attack levels, she shook her head. “I can’t see anything. It’s too dark.”
“Should I go out there and scare them off?”
“No. You could get shot.”
“So we just wait for whoever is out there to break in?”
“What choice do we have? I’m not putting you at risk. There could be ten people, all armed with guns out there for all we know.”
Peyton didn’t respond right away. After a moment, he mumbled a curse. “Wanda must be hiding under the bed.”
“Maybe she’s keeping Fireball company.”
Peyton snorted. “If she’s not going to be out here, then she should give us her gun. It’s no use to anyone tucked away in the guest room.”
“I can’t ask her to do that, and you know it. Maybe when my mom gets back…” If she gets back. No. Madison couldn’t think that way; she wouldn’t.
Her mom and Brianna and Tucker would be coming back. They were just held up. Joe must have needed help or Walmart had more supplies than they could fit in the car or they came across someone her mom knew.
