Sol Survivors | Book 2 | Nashville Nightmare

by Benton, Ken

  “I’m sorry,” Joel said in the sincerest tone he could conjure. “I have no complaints about how things worked out. And I wish I could help. Where you headed?”

  “Back to Virginia,” Archer said waving the gas vouchers. “We’ll be out of your hair for good as soon as you provide me with a working vehicle, which is what you owe me. You can have your shotgun back if I can have my rifle back, and the ammo that goes with it.” He looked towards the two pickup trucks still parked in front of the cabin.

  Joel shook his head. “I sure as hell am never giving you my F250, not for any price.”

  “Sammy’s truck then,” Archer said. “Since he took mine, I’ll take his. It’s fair.”

  “That does sound fair,” Debra said from the porch. Now she had opened her mouth one too many times, though Joel understood that her primary motivation was to see Archer and Jessie leave the neighborhood.

  “I’ll explain why it’s not fair,” Joel said looking around at all three of them. “We are in a time of rapidly fluctuating commodity values.”

  He pointed at Archer. “When you traded me your truck with an empty tank for the loaded shotgun, fuel was impossible to get, so the truck had become near-worthless. The only use we came up with for it was germinating seeds on the dashboard. The shotgun at that time had much more practical usage, and thus became more valuable. But now that gas is starting to become available again, a running vehicle is again more valuable than a shotgun—and now you want to trade back. You’re sticking it to me both ways.”

  “I never traded,” Archer said through clenched teeth.

  “Call it what you want, Archer. But you had possession of the more valuable item all this time, and as soon as the market changes you suddenly want to trade back in order to keep having it that way.”

  “Look,” Archer said. But before he could continue, Jessie interrupted.

  “Don’t bother haggling with him honey. You won’t win.” She turned to Joel. “Joel, we just want to leave, now that we finally can. What do you want for Sammy’s truck? We’ll pay you a fair price for it, whenever the banks open back up.”

  Joel turned to see what Debra’s reaction would be upon hearing Jessie call Archer honey. Sure enough, she was now frowning and tilting her head at Archer. Callaway remained in the same position star watching.

  Joel chuckled and turned back around. He and Jessie used to call each other honey. He remembered Archer and Debra calling each other sweetie. Joel made sure he didn’t try to adopt the same term of endearment for Jessie’s former best friend, who heard them use it for each other. Debra appeared aware enough to do the same. Joel and Debra called each other babe a couple times so far, but not comfortably and were still trying it out. For the most part it was simply Deb and Joel. But for Jessie, it was apparently a simple matter of moving the honey label over to another warm body.

  “I would agree to that,” Joel said to Jessie, “but for two points. The first being where the heck to find you guys.”

  “My house in Fredericksburg,” Archer answered.

  “And the second is the price. I can’t put a value on it until the banks do reopen, and we learn what the US Dollar itself is going to be worth. This is to your benefit. If I charged you by what the dollar is worth today it would be more than you paid for your house.”

  “You can have the truck back,” Archer said. “And we’ll pay a fair rental fee. We only really need it for one-way transportation. Or you can send Sammy to pick it up someday and we’ll settle with him.”

  “All right, that works.” Joel agreed mostly for Debra’s sake. “But how are you going to get to the closest purple-ticket gas station? The tank doesn’t have more than a couple gallons in it.”

  “Let us worry about that.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Jessie and Archer were inside the cabin for less than ten minutes to sign Joel’s hastily-scribbled agreement. Red emerged from the bathroom with an undisguised look of dismay shortly before they left.

  And then they were gone.

  So was Sammy’s truck. Joel had his Remington 870 back, and Archer his .243 Winchester with the half-box of shells.

  “You did the right thing,” Debra commented after the tire crunching noises faded off. The two of them stood at the front door for a long moment.

  “I didn’t do it for them,” Joel replied, realizing he was repeating Rob Danson’s last statement to him almost verbatim.

  “I know you didn’t.” Debra kissed him on the cheek.

  Joel held her by the upper arms. “Deb, I have the exact same conviction as the last time I let him get the better of me. Neither Sammy nor I will ever see that truck again. If they manage to make it back, and if his house isn’t ransacked or burned, squatters will probably be occupying it. I don’t like his chances of evicting them.”

  “I’m in no hurry to return to Virginia,” Debra replied. “And don’t you get any notions whatsoever about leaving me here again, to go anywhere, for any reason.” She kissed him on the mouth this time. Joel responded, well aware they were blocking Callaway and Red from exiting and possibly making them uncomfortable.

  “Well,” Joel replied still holding her, “what if it’s just a short trip out to the goat pen to see the guys get settled in for the night?”

  Debra conceded in a way that communicated she thought it was a good idea, for whatever reason. It wasn’t quite dark yet.

  As soon the three men were outside, Joel sent Callaway ahead and kept Red back so he could talk to him privately in front of the house.

  “You know there are rooms available inside now,” Joel said. He didn’t honestly want Red to take him up on the offer to move indoors. But he wanted to extend the invite, and, even more so, wanted to see what Red’s thoughts on it were.

  Red glanced at the front bedroom window they stood next to, what used to be Sammy’s room, and then at the shack where he slept on a pile of old blankets every night.

  “I wouldn’t feel right abandoning Nancy and the birds,” Red replied. “They depend on me.”

  “Even with Callaway there to watch them?”

  He chuckled. “Yes.”

  Joel joined him in the chuckle. “All right. Thanks for your help tonight. You really kept your wits about you. Who knows what may have happened otherwise.”

  “You’re welcome,” Red replied. “Thank you for letting me stay at your home, even after…” his gaze went sheepishly to the ground.

  “Red, can I ask you a personal question that may be difficult to answer? You can pass on it if you want.”

  His eyes looked back to Joel, concerned.

  “That night,” Joel said. “When you arrived here, when I got arrested and Debra took you in. Why were you running across the yards so helter-skelter? I’ve always suspected they sent you as a diversion.”

  Red nodded. “Yes. It was probably meant to be a diversion. I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks. I understand. Do you have family somewhere?”

  “I don’t know,” Red replied. “I was taken care of by foster parents from a young age, and then a different pair of foster parents. I didn’t care for any of them, though I suppose they were all nice enough.”

  “I see. For what it’s worth, I am glad to have you here, and happy that Debra was wise enough to let you stay. You are welcome to remain as long as you want. The manner in which this occurred is strange, but I have come to trust you with my property should I ever have to leave it again, with or without Debra. I also trust you around her. You backed me when it counted tonight, so I promise that I will also back you in any similar circumstances.”

  “You already did, tonight, Mr. McConnell. But thanks. What you said means a lot.”

  “You earned it. Call me Joel from now on, please, if you can remember.”

  Red smiled. “I’ll try.”

  Joel allowed him to join Callaway in the pen. Though he didn’t give a detailed answer to the most critical question, Joel still received an answer he could live with. And it all added up
. Debra suspected Red of having a mild case of autism, which to Joel simply meant he was a little slow. But Red wasn’t slow tonight when the guns started pointing. Perhaps it was worse when he was a child, which resulted in him becoming unwanted. Maybe that’s why he ended up in a criminal gang. Maybe the criminal gang took advantage of him in certain ways because of that. Of course they did. When Red was running erratically across the open fields that fateful evening, it was obviously at their bidding. Joel had processed enough of the evidence and probabilities to be able to forgive him now—something he professed to Debra he would never be able to do.

  Situations change.

  He couldn’t wait to tell her; to let her know they’d both been wrong about that. But how? These things needed to be revealed artfully if one was to have any fun in it. Joel tried to think of something clever to say to her as he stepped back up to his porch.

  That’s when he heard more feet on his driveway. This was getting ridiculous tonight. It was only a few minutes from darkness.

  These new feet came at a fast and alarming pace. Joel realized he was about to be caught outdoors unarmed again.

  * * *

  “Calm down!” Joel said. His words contradicted his actions as he paced in circles. The horrified faces of Debra and Red flashed by his vision in sequence, along with the slightly-concerned face of Callaway, before he repeated the impossible instruction to Mick.

  “Just take a minute to breathe and tell me again,” Joel said. “Is Sammy going to be safe in his spot until daybreak?”

  “I think so,” Mick huffed. “I hope so. But your tenants down the street are not.”

  Joel’s eyes involuntarily moved eastward, encountering only the wood of the living room wall while his mind’s eye pictured the Maddock house.

  “I’m sorry, Joel. I wasn’t sure if it was the same SUV, or if it was really following me. I didn’t want to lead them here if it was, and couldn’t think of anything else to do.”

  “But now you are sure?” Joel asked.

  “It followed me all the way there, and stopped on the road in front.”

  “They didn’t see you sneak off?”

  “That much I’m positive of,” Mick replied. “I went through the barn and was halfway across the neighboring field before I peeked over the knoll and spotted them there. So I stayed off the road and ducked through the fences. Almost got sprayed by a skunk coming through the trees to your driveway. It’s getting pretty dark. They would have come after me if they saw me.”

  Joel held his chin and nodded. “After chasing you all the way from Nashville, I suppose you’re right. So they are diurnals, then?”

  “Yes, but they’re pissed.”

  “Obviously. It sucks you don’t know how many are in the vehicle. But they are going to have to move on the house pretty quickly.” Joel did another round on the face carousel. Callaway’s expression was the only one that changed, projecting more concern now.

  Joel approached Debra as he routinely popped the magazine from his Glock to check the rounds, even though he knew it was fully loaded. Then he handed her the gun. She somewhat surprisingly accepted it without hesitation.

  “You’re taking the AR-15 and the other rifle?” she asked.

  “Yes.” He kissed her on the forehead and turned to Red.

  “Stay inside with her while I’m gone please, Red.”

  “I will, Mr. McConnell.” Red picked up the Remington shotgun in a reassuring manner.

  “Joel,” Joel replied to Red.

  After noticing an appreciative look on Debra’s face, Joel fixed his gaze on Callaway.

  “How can I help?” Callaway asked perking up some.

  Joel assumed a thoughtful pose but ended up shrugging. “I’m not sure. But something tells me you being here is better for us than if you weren’t. So anything you can do to support the situation, protect the house, send positive vibes our way, and help Debra and Red in any way, is appreciated.”

  “I can do all of that,” Callaway replied.

  “Thanks.” Joel went to the bedroom closet to retrieve the AR, a lightweight jacket, and his night vision goggles. It didn’t take him long to be ready to go.

  “Please be careful,” Debra said straightening the goggles around his neck. A yearning from deep within those blue-eyes made every fiber of Joel’s being resolve to abide by her request.

  Joel told her he loved her just before walking out. It was only the second time he said it. The first was in a much more intimate setting. She said it back, then and now. Everyone else acted as if hearing them say it to each other was already routine.

  Outside, Joel and Mick crossed the yard, ascended the incline and then climbed Joel’s fence. Nancy neighed as if to wish them good luck. By the time they reached the opposite fence of the vacant land neighboring Joel’s property, Joel decided it was dark enough to wear the goggles to help them avoid stepping in holes.

  “Send positive vibes our way?” Mick blurted as they picked their steps through overgrown weeds.

  “It can’t hurt,” Joel responded. “Hole on your left. Let’s keep our voices down to a whisper from here.”

  They didn’t speak again until they had bent their way through the old wooden fence of the Maddock property, and skulked close to the barn.

  “Where did you park?” Joel whispered.

  “In front of the barn.”

  They slowly made their way around to the front, where three parked vehicles came into view: the married couple’s old sedan, the Celica Mick came back in, and the nemesis silver SUV. Joel nudged Mick down into the grass to assess the situation.

  There didn’t appear to be anyone in the SUV. Some commotion could be heard inside the house.

  The sound of a car door closing suddenly echoed from inside the barn.

  Joel put his mouth against Mick’s ear and asked, “Is Bridger’s car in the barn?”

  Mick took too long to answer, which meant he wasn’t sure.

  “Yes, pretty sure.”

  “Someone is in there,” Joel said. “You need to stay here and cover the door. If I start shooting, be ready—but make sure it’s not Bridger who comes out before you fire!”

  “That may be hard,” Mick answered.

  “Use these.” Joel took the night goggles off and gave them to Mick.

  They didn’t need to speak again. Mick knew what to do, and took a position behind a tree stump with a full view of the barn door. It occurred to Joel that Mick’s weapon was Parker Maddock’s .22LR rifle Joel found inside that same barn after Parker’s death. He discovered the supply of Stinger rounds a few days later in a workbench drawer there, which is why Joel traded heavily for Debra’s Ruger SR22 when it showed up at the marketplace. Ironic, perhaps—but in a way that made Joel feel good about the situation, as if Parker himself were helping. That, hopefully, and Callaway’s good vibes.

  Joel left him there and snuck in front of the parked cars. When he got to the Celica, he could see across the driveway clearing through the dining room window of the house. The married couple sat at the table under dim lighting looking terrified. Two large men stood at the head of the table. They were unquestionably the invaders. One held a shotgun, but was not currently pointing it at them. He kept watching the front door instead.

  The other man leaned on the edge of the table towards the couple, speaking harshly at them. The sitting husband made desperate hand motions and shrugs in his responses. Joel noticed one of those responses involved pointing in the direction of Hal Bronson’s house.

  It was easy for Joel to draw a bead on either of the invaders. He chose the one holding the shotgun, since the other did not have a visible weapon.

  That situation shortly changed. The other appeared to grow impatient with the married couple and produced a handgun. The wife folded her arms and squeezed against her husband’s chest in fear as the invader pointed the pistol at his head, shouting something new.

  Joel switched his aim to the one with the pistol.

  Chapter Th
irteen

  Being with Joel was vastly different than being with Archer. Debra was one of two women in the world who knew that. The other just left with Archer. Which one of them got the better deal in the switch? Debra was certain each of them felt they did. Which means it was a good trade.

  “There they go,” Debra said taking a sip of coffee, both elbows resting on the big wood dining room table.

  Red, sitting across from her, frowned before saying, “Joel and Mick?”

  “No. Jessie and Archer. Pretty sure I just heard Sammy’s truck pull out of the Dunn driveway and head away eastward. They must’ve had a little gas on hand, or gotten some from the marketplace. I doubt I will ever see either of them again. Not that I care anymore.”

  “That was them,” Callaway said, sitting motionless at the counter letting his own coffee get cold.

  Red shook his head. “I don’t know how you two can tell so much from far-off sounds.”

  “Sometimes listening for sounds is all you have,” Debra answered. She hoped they would both understand that her soft voice meant they should now keep as quiet as possible.

  “You can usually tell more from your ears than from your eyes,” Callaway said. “Most people don’t realize that. Another thing they don’t realize is how much power their thoughts have.” He paused. “For seven years, all I had were thoughts.”

  Debra stared at him. He remained perfectly still except for his hands clasping tighter in front of his chest in that odd position he’d taken on the barstool, sitting on one tucked leg. It looked anything but relaxing. No doubt he was indeed attempting to help Joel and Mick with his thoughts. Heck, maybe he could. There was something intangibly unique about Callaway, which included certain abstract abilities no one could explain or even quite identify. Anyone who spent any time with him, and didn’t have a closed mind, would come to recognize that, including, amazingly, Joel. Debra perceived that Joel asking Callaway to think good thoughts for them, as placating as it may have sounded, was a genuine request made with at least a miniscule degree of faith—and evidently, so did Callaway.