The Indiana Apocalypse Series

by E A Lake

  Me too. But if the day after tomorrow arrived without that solution, I feared things were going to get a little worse for all of us.

  Late in the afternoon as I came home from work, I noticed my parents outside, talking in low tones. They hadn't seen me coming, as they were on the far side of the house in the wilting flower garden. I paused at the edge of the house, listening in to see if there was any hope.

  "I have failed so badly," my father confessed. "I have gone against my word. I'm not sure if God will forgive me this time, my dear."

  "You did what needed to be done," my mother replied kindly. "And you have given your best to those you love. That's all that can be asked of you, Edward."

  I heard my father sniffle several times and then blow his nose. Was he crying? For me?

  "I'm not even sure this will work, Lisa. It doesn't feel right."

  "Faith," my mother said sternly. "We all must have faith in times like this."

  I listened as she and my father began to ramble some sort of prayer and took that as my cue to leave. So the old fart did feel bad for hanging my butt to dry, for over-estimating his numbers, for lying to me. Good! At least I'd know he was sorry if I didn't make it back from Shaklin Road.

  CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED SEVEN

  No one seemed to have much of an appetite at dinner that night. Audra and Liv had made a sizable pile of food, we all served ourselves generous portions and then it sat there as we stared at one another.

  "Can you tell me anything about this person you've sent Tim to see?" I asked, glancing at my father. Like the rest of my tablemates, I wasn't very happy. Depressed would have better explained our collective moods.

  "He likes to do things on his own terms," Ed replied. "I haven't asked this particular person for his help yet, but he is a faithful follower."

  Liv, the only cheerful one amongst us, reached for Ed's hand and gave him a sweet smile. "Well, that sounds positive. A faithful friend is one you can depend on."

  "Can you put some sort of goofy hex on him and make him help us?" I asked, perhaps a little on the sarcastic side. "I mean if he's such a faithful follower, he should be under your cult's spell."

  Morgan went to shush me, but Ed's reply came first. "It doesn't work like that, son. Believers of Christ still have free will. I can't force or trick someone into helping us. He has to do it because he knows it's the right thing to do and sees the value in his help. Most of all, he has to do it because it's proper in God's eyes."

  Charolette looked like she wanted to explode. "Can't he see the importance of this?!" she shrieked. "Peoples’ lives are at stake here. My life is at stake."

  Ed nodded at the shaking young woman. "Tim will implore him to help. But it's still up to him to see the light."

  "What's the holdup?" I asked bitterly. "What aren't you telling me?"

  My father and mother shared an intense stare. "Tell him, Edward," she implored.

  "Yeah, tell me, Edward."

  He looked at me dejectedly, his shoulders slumped, head held down. My God, what kind of man had he sent his associate to see?

  "He'll want to use force," Ed admitted quietly, shaking his head and starting at his plate. "He'll insist upon it. But as a follower of Christ, as a leader of decent Christian people, I can't condone that. It's not the right way."

  Good, he was selling our souls to Shaklin's will because he didn't want guns at the battle. My own father, the man who had comforted me when I was young and in tears over a scabbed knee, a man who I remember bouncing Belinda on his knee when she was about one, was allowing us to be subjected to a monster's delight based on his faith...a faith I found to be fake.

  "You're gonna get us killed, Dad," I said quietly. "He probably won't kill the women, but you and I are dead in two days’ time. You know that, don't you?"

  He glanced at me with twisted lips, shaking his head. "Whatever happens is God's will, son. I know you don't see that right now. But since the beginning of time, this has all been at his will. Even the darkness that came seven years ago was for his delight."

  "That's the biggest load of shit I've ever heard you speak," I replied bitterly. "There is no God, and you know it. Terrible things are happening. That's all the proof you need."

  As I awaited Ed's feeble response, I felt something strange going on at the table. Allowing my eyes to dart at the others, I noticed they were all staring at me.

  "There is too a God, Quinn," Liv announced proudly, pointing at her chest. "I feel it in my heart, every single day."

  "I agree," Sara added.

  "Me too," Charolette stated. "I'm not scared anymore. Your father has shown me the light."

  "Me too," Sasha further added, reaching for my mother's hands. "I've felt so much better this week after spending hours talking to your mom and aunt. There is a God, and he's going to protect us."

  I chuckled and looked away. "You're all crazy. And you've just proven that to Morgan and me."

  It was quiet for a moment before I dared look at my wife. When I did, tears streaked her rosy cheeks.

  "There is a God, Quinn," she said, smiling through her tears. "You just haven't found Him yet; your eyes are still closed to something we've all found over the last few weeks. But we're all praying for you."

  I pushed away from my spot and headed for a chair on the front porch. I had no words as I left the house; my family and friends had all gone insane. At least they'd die or live out the rest of their miserable days happy.

  CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED EIGHT

  I couldn't fall asleep that night. The pressure was getting to me. Trying to come up with alternatives when my mind was dark proved impossible.

  I wandered into the kitchen somewhere in the middle of the darkness, thinking that maybe a treat would help. It couldn't hurt, I figured, so I grabbed two cookies after I'd lit the lantern in the center of the table.

  "Cold milk would go good with those," someone said as I sulked, staring at the wall. When I collected my wits, I noticed the interrupter was none other than my crazy aunt. Better her than my father.

  "You need a joint," she continued, pulling the chair out next to me. "I find if one clears one's mind of their troubles, the answers come more easily."

  "I need help with this mess, Audra. And as much as I'd love a smoke right now, I don't think that would help one bit."

  I heard her snort; what a great response. Plopping down next to me, Audra rubbed her eyes.

  "You'll get through this, Quinny. I know you will. Somehow you and your daddy will work this out and you'll both be the better for this."

  I fought back the urge to laugh and roll my head at her alleged wisdom. We were so far behind in the battle that to me, there was no way out but death.

  "Your confidence is encouraging," I muttered. "Misguided, but encouraging; and I thank you for it."

  She shook off my pessimism like it was foolish. "Your dad says all you need is faith. Seems pretty simple to me. You don't got any."

  I couldn't help it that time. I laughed out loud.

  "Kind of hard to have faith in a man who's let me down so many times, Audra. He promised me help in this mess, and so far, he hasn't delivered much of that."

  She nodded briefly, playing with a hangnail on her boney right hand. "Let's review this mess, shall we?"

  I didn't know what she was getting at, but I had plenty on my mind that needed purging.

  "Shaklin wants his property back," I began sharply. "And by property, he means people. We have no guns to take with us, as per Ed. And we have a small force of prayer groupies going up against an equal-sized force of gun-toting hooligans. We're screwed; that's the long and the short of it, Audra. After I've agreed to every one of his demands, I still see us as in a bad place, thanks to my dad."

  She leaned back in her chair, stretching out a yawn. "I see it a little differently, Quinny."

  I rolled my eyes. "How's that?"

  She shot me a mischievous grin that told me I was about to get some sort of lesson...in her mind at
least.

  "One," she began quietly. "You went to Shaklin's farm and rescued your friends."

  "True," I confirmed after I noticed she was waiting on me.

  "Two, you burnt down the place you were staying on Shaklin's farm."

  "Also true," I answered. But honestly, what she was saying was all ancient history. Still, I let her continue.

  "Three," she said a little louder than before. "You murdered one of Shaklin's farm hands while at his farm."

  I shook my head and frowned. "I defended my friends and slit a nasty man's throat in the process."

  She shrugged. "Po-tay-toe, po-tah-toe. Someone died."

  Then she paused for an uncomfortable lengthy period as though she was finished.

  "And?" I asked tersely.

  She peered at me through her greasy bangs that hid some of the whites of her eyes that I might have otherwise spied.

  "You don't see the connection, do you, Quinny?"

  No, quite honestly, I didn't. To be more blunt: hell no!

  CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED NINE

  "You stole from him, he stole from you," Audra began again with a new fervor. "You burned down one of his places and he burned down one of yours. You killed, but he only wounded. Probably because he did it to send a message. Your killing that Ramos fellow was more of a reaction thing."

  All that she had mentioned was true. Stealing, okay I called it rescuing. Burning and wounding...all true. But I didn't see her point in the slightest.

  "You were playing offense once upon a time, my nephew. You had him where you wanted him. You had him by the balls. But all you've been doing lately is playing defense. Simply reacting to his series of moves."

  I stared at her for a while, plucking at my lower lip. "So, you think I should go back on the offensive?" She nodded. "Don't you think it's a little late in the game for that? I mean, I'm supposed to meet with him in 36 hours."

  Audra's grin grew slowly. "Tell him to go to hell, Quinny. Tell Shaklin to stuff that deadline up his ass and then make it rough on him again for a while. That ought to soften up that fat bastard."

  What she said made sense, sort of. But since I'd come back to Pimento, all I'd been doing was playing defense. I'd been focused on amassing an army for so long that I wasn't sure I remembered how to attack anymore.

  "Start by riding down there with as many people as you can round up," Audra said, "and call him out. Be sure to take weapons; that's the only thing a man like Shaklin understands – brute force."

  "But Ed–"

  "I'll take care of Ed," she barked. "You just get as many men and women together tomorrow morning and tell him you need another week. Then maybe the night after that, you have someone sneak onto his place and burn down one of his barns or slaughter some animals. That'll get his attention."

  I wanted to counter her, badly, but I needed to think about what she'd said. There was some wisdom in her words, most likely misguided by her age and cannabis. The plan was crazy though, perhaps even insane. But the more I thought about it, the more I wondered if it just wasn't crazy enough to work.

  The next morning, I felt refreshed and renewed even though I'd only slept a couple of hours. I'd refined several ideas that had floated through my tired mind just before I fell asleep and they were still there when I woke up. I was going to make the best of the day and force my old buddy Tony into speaking reasonably with me. With any luck, I wouldn't need Ed's help, or lack thereof.

  After breakfast, I spoke quietly with Morgan and Sara about my new plan. To say they were less than enthusiastic and supportive of it made it sound like things had gone well, which they hadn’t.

  "Let me get this straight," Morgan said skeptically with tight lips. God, I hated that tone. "You're going to ride down to Hymera, right into Shaklin's front yard and demand to see him."

  "Don't worry," I inserted quickly. "I'm bringing several guns with me." That made her blow out a held-in breath, which was never a good thing.

  "But you're going by yourself?" I nodded and she shook her head. "You against at least 50 of his farmhands. Hmmm. You know they have guns at their disposal? Maybe not on them but he has a sizable armory."

  I was well aware of what Tony did and didn't have, though the “didn’t have” portion was a mighty small list of things.

  "And I'm going to tell him–" I tried to repeat the next part, but she cut me off.

  "You aren't going to tell him anything, Quinn. If he doesn't have someone shoot you, they'll hang you on the spot. You won't stand a chance."

  "But we have to do something," I implored. "I have to do something. I've been playing defense far too long, Morgan. I need to make Tony nervous for a while."

  She gazed at me as though I were an innocent, well-meaning child. Her look spoke volumes; it said I had no idea what I was doing.

  And she may have been right.

  CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED TEN

  After Morgan talked me out of going to Shaklin's, she called it talking some sense back into me, I sat on my front porch, wondering what my next move would be. Fortunately, I didn't have to think too hard or long.

  I noticed Art approaching as I looked up from my worries. As usual, he was as happy as ever, whistling an upbeat tune, smiling and waving as he made his way through our front gate.

  "Morning, Sheriff," he said as he stopped before me. I'd given up on reminding him to call me Quinn weeks before, maybe even as long as a month ago. He just wasn't going to call me by anything other than my proper title.

  "What's up?" I asked, squinting at him in the morning sun. The day had started out cool again and even with the sun and a mild breeze from the west, I didn't think it would get much warmer the rest of the day.

  "There's a couple fellows down at the office looking for you," he replied easily, shoving his hands in the pockets of his worn blue jeans. "Three actually. And to be honest, they kind of look like a rough bunch."

  How was it possible that he'd brought me a worried message and yet had whistled his way to my home? If I had gone and made it back from the meeting with Shaklin, I believed I wanted to start studying Art's art of happiness.

  "Did they say what they wanted?"

  He shrugged and smiled at someone inside through the picture window. Probably Charolette, I decided, cleaning it for the second time that morning.

  "Not really," he replied, letting out a deep breath. "They just said that they needed to talk to you."

  Okay, someone wanted to talk, no problem. But I went inside and grabbed my gun before I followed Art back to the office. I'd learned from experience that I couldn't be too careful anymore.

  I stared at the three, feeling my face twist slightly. They weren't rough; they were rough! Each man wore a dark green canvas jacket and a similar green ball cap on his head. Their pants were filthy, as though they'd walked though miles of muddy cornfields, and their boots were caked with the same mud.

  "You Quinn Reynolds?" The tallest of the three asked as he stepped forward. I fought off the urge to rest my right hand on the butt of my gun and nodded once. "Word is you're looking for some help. That true?"

  "Depends. What kind of help are you offering?"

  He grinned slightly and looked back at his partners. It was then that I noticed his greasy long brown hair riding on the back of his jacket.

  "Well, for a price we can help you fight Tony Shaklin," he drawled. "If that's what kind of help you're after."

  "How many men?" I asked, wondering how steep their price might be.

  "At least 50, all armed to the teeth," he announced as though he were proud of his numbers.

  And he should have been proud of that fact. Fifty armed desperate men looking to gain something in an apocalyptic world would have been a formidable force. Except for the no guns part Ed had shoved down my throat. Before mentioning that, I decided to test the cost benefit waters.

  "And what is it that you'd like in exchange, Mister...?"

  "Halverson," he replied dryly. "Josh Halverson. And these two are my
cousins, Aaron and William Halverson."

  "You boys from over by Indy?" Art asked with a certain amount of confusion. The taller one nodded. "Well, you're fighters then for sure."

  "That we are," one of the other two replied sternly.

  These were mercenaries, plain and simple. One and the same that King Karlos had advised me to try and deal with. But even a month ago, I didn't want to involve people who might turn our showdown into a potential bloodbath for both sides. It wasn't a wise idea.

  "And our price is simple," Josh continued. "We help you solve this little problem of yours and we get your town...lock, stock and barrel."

  CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED ELEVEN

  Their price was high, way beyond what I was willing to pay. Of course, I couldn't take them up on their generous offer because my crazy father would nix the deal and probably try to convert them on the spot. But I wondered how they'd found out.

  "Before you ask," Josh continued, "we've already spoken with Mr. Shaklin and made him the same offer. But he turned us down; claimed he didn't need any more help than he already had because you're gonna be showing up unarmed. Kind of stupid for a man with your reputation."

  "That isn't written in stone," I bluffed. "If I can find enough people, I won't have to capitulate to the other crazy man's demands."

  "And if you're wondering," he added, pointing at Art and then me, "Shaklin's already spread the word as much as he could throughout Terre Haute that you're looking for help. Says he'll kill anyone who shows up and then hunt down their families. There's not gonna be any mass insurrection against him. Not now at least."

  And I finally had the answer as to why Ed's numbers weren't adding up. Show up and fight and you lose your entire family. Leave it to Tony to think of everything.

  "I can't turn my town over to you," I replied in a frank tone. "It just wouldn't be right."