by David Rogers
“Candice, got any ideas?” Jessica asked as she dipped her hands in the wash bucket before pumping a squirt of soap on them and starting to wash.
“Parmesan?” the girl asked. “Like chicken parmesan?”
“Duck parmesan?” Austin asked before there was another thunk as he started butchering the second duck.
Candice hurriedly faced away from him again. “Mom used to make chicken parmesan sometimes. Duck tastes pretty good, like chicken.”
“You know, I like that idea Candy Bear.” Jessica said as she rinsed her hands of the soap and shook them off the edge of the deck to shake away the excess water.
“But I don’t think our tomatoes are quite ready.” she continued, glancing involuntarily in the direction of the front porch, where she had a number of plants they’d turned up during their scavenging growing in pots. So far Florida was proving to be proof against January cold. The nights could sometimes dip down sufficiently to be chilly enough for jackets, but the days even in the dead of what she thought of as winter were turning out to be mild and comfortable. The tomatoes seemed to agree; they continued to grow in their pots. But they weren’t done yet; when she’d checked this morning the biggest ones were still barely past cherry tomato size.
“We’ve got canned stuff in the pantry.” Candice pointed out, half turning to look at Jessica. “And plenty of parmesan cheese too.”
“Bread crumbs.” Jessica said musingly. “We haven’t picked up any bread crumbs. We’ve got oil, and you don’t really need eggs to keep the coating on them if you oil and fry them right, but I’m not sure just cheese is enough to work.”
“Crackers?” Austin suggested. “Or we can table the idea and I can keep an eye out for some bread crumbs on our next run.”
“Hmm, actually, crackers should work.” Jessica said. “I mean, four star cooking it might not be, but I bet crackers and parmesan will come out well enough. Austin, got any preferences for a vegetable?”
“We need to start the garden.” he said. “I miss potatoes.”
“I said vegetable.”
“Potatoes are vegetables.” he said, grinning unrepentantly at her.
“Green vegetables.”
“Okay, fine, make it hard on me.” he said. “Let’s see, avoiding the usual suspects that get dumped into the stew … what does that leave?”
“Pickles?” Candice asked.
“Pickles!” Jessica and Austin said at the same time.
“We don’t put pickles in the pot.” Candice said. “And we’ve got like so many jars on the shelf.”
“Duck parmesan and pickles.” Jessica said wonderingly.
“Girlie-girl’s sort of got a point.” Austin said. “We have pickles, and they don’t go into the stews. And they’re green.”
“You’re enjoying this far too much.” Jessica observed.
“Parmesan and pickles it is.” he said, standing and slapping the second carcass on the workbench next to the first. “Come on, now you’re curious.”
“Don’t touch me with those ducky hands.” Jessica said immediately as he waggled his fingers at her.
“Gross.” Candice said.
Austin shrugged. “No one likes to know how the sausage is made.”
“There are pigs running around here.” Jessica said impishly. “Keep talking and I’ll talk you into bagging and breaking one down.”
“I already bagged a deer you know.” he said in a maliciously reasonable tone. “Threatening to make me go looking for a boar isn’t much of a burden.”
“You had help on the deer.” Jessica pointed out.
“I shot it.”
“Yeah, and carried it back before you decide to remind me. But may I remind you, we burned a flare to get the Houseboaters’ attention, and Nate showed you how to carve it up into meat.”
“It was get them or try to wring some tips out of Happy.” he said, his voice still pitched in amused innocence. “And they’d already done the hard part with Happy. Besides, we got some good stuff out of them for most of the meat.”
“Let’s see if you feel the same if I insist we’re ready for you to string a pig up and get it ready to turn over to me.”
“There are alligators around here too.”
“Yuck.” Candice said, finally turning around. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No, seriously.” Austin said with a laugh. “I see one or two a day most of the time. We are living in a swamp you know.”
“I don’t think we’re down to needing to consider that.” Jessica said firmly. “Say it with me now—”
“A day at a time.” the three of them chorused.
“Right as always.” Austin whispered to her.
“Dump that … stuff.” Jessica said, gesturing at the bucket where Austin had been putting the leavings of the butchered ducks, and smiling at him with her eyes. “Then wash your hands. Candice, pantry and get what we need for lunch. And I’ll cook, then we’ll eat, and then we’ll have the afternoon to be productive and well fed.”
* * * * *
“Okay, so there’s a zombie over there.” Austin said. He was standing behind the girl, leaning down over her. From where Jessica stood watching, it looked for all the world he was about to wrap her up in his arms, but that was mostly because he was literally twice her size. And about three times her mass.
“You didn’t notice him until just now.” Austin continued. “What do we do?”
Candice didn’t move, but spoke firmly. “Check behind me, then step back some if it’s safe.”
“Good, so…” Austin said.
Candice turned her head, and Austin slid aside a little so the girl could look behind herself. Jessica looked to catch her daughter’s eyes, but Candice’s expression was completely serious and didn’t flash any mirth or distraction at her before flicking back across the road in front of the stilt house. “It’s clear, so I back up three steps and draw the gun.”
“And while we draw, what’s the most important thing?” Austin asked.
“Fingers on the grip, not the trigger.” Candice said. “Never touch the trigger until I’m aimed and ready to fire.”
“Good, so we’re going to back up and draw. Where do we point the gun once we’ve got it out?”
“At the zombie. The target. At the ground if there’s no target.”
“Let’s do it.”
Austin moved back as Candice stepped back three measured steps, the girl’s hand coming down to the holster on her side and gripping the pistol. Jessica automatically sat on her still present urge to object as her daughter drew the weapon and brought it up. She trusted Austin. Not just with her life, but with Candice’s; and she knew the world the three of them were living in now had different rules that threw the old ones right out. Not just out the window, right off into space.
But that didn’t make it any harder to watch her ten-year-old daughter, her only remaining child, handle a weapon. Even knowing that this one, this time, was an air pistol that Austin preferred to use as much as possible to avoid any sustained noise next to the house that could draw any nearby zombies over to investigate didn’t help her wrestle with her ever present distaste of seeing, of thinking, of Candice handling a gun.
Candice had inherited the M&P Shield 9mm from Jessica, since Austin hadn’t found another pistol that suited the girl’s hands as well as the Shield, and carried it, holstered, anytime she was awake. And she’d fired enough rounds from it to convince Austin she was reasonably well checked out on the weapon in case she needed to use it. But most of the girl’s target practice was with a replica BB gun he’d turned up.
Even knowing this was the air gun, Jessica still had to remind herself to fight against her urge to object as Candice leveled the pistol out in front of her, clasped in both hands just like Jessica herself had been taught by Austin.
“Now you’re aimed, what next?”
“Safety, disengage.” Candice said.
“Good, so disengage.” Austin told her.
&nbs
p; Candice’s right thumb found the lever and clicked it down.
“Now we’ve taken some time to do all that, because I’m here asking you questions.” Austin said. “Maybe there’s some other reason if this happens when you’re looking at a zombie, but it’s been a few seconds. What do we do?”
“Look behind me again, and move back again so it doesn’t get too close.”
Again, Austin slid aside and hovered near by, his hands and attention ready to grab for the pistol in case Candice started pointing it in a direction she shouldn’t be. It was just a BB gun, but it could wound — lightly — a person if they were hit by it. And the BBs, should they impact somewhere like an eye, could actually cause real injury. Plus it was part of what Austin called proper firearms control; to always have control over the weapon. Part of that was not waving it around thoughtlessly.
But Candice had learned well. In fact, distressed though Jessica remained over these ongoing lessons, she had to admit she’d never seen her daughter be so applied to any sort of learning as she was when Austin was teaching her about how to use a weapon.
“Goddamn zombies.” Jessica thought sadly as she watched Candice hold the pistol in place and turn her head to look behind her, then move back several more steps before returning her attention forward.
“Now we’re gun up, safety off, and we’ve got a zombie in front of us.”
“Align the sights.” Candice said. “The one with the two, level and even. Don’t hold my breath, don’t rush, small movements, draw a line through all three dots to the zombie’s head. Fire between breaths, squeezing smooth and steady on the trigger when I’m aimed.”
“You got it. Fire away.” Austin said, behind her once again. He was still ready to grab for the pistol or her arms if she did something she wasn’t supposed to, but he was completely out of her way. Candice was used to him looming over her from behind during these lessons.
Jessica glanced around while Candice aimed, making sure no actual zombies had appeared in the last twenty or so seconds, then back at Candice and Austin just as her daughter fired her first shot.
“Just nicked past it, track right a little.” Austin said.
Candice leveled the gun again, aimed for a moment, and fired again. This time the empty can resting on one of the upper treads of the platform ladder in front of her pinged as the BB hit it. Austin insisted it was important for Candice to be very used to aiming up, at head level, since anything she’d have to shoot for real would almost certainly be above her. Shooting zombies anywhere except the head was usually a wasted round.
Good habits was the term he used.
“Good, again.”
The girl settled into a steady pattern of firing. The BB gun barely kicked enough to destabilize her, but when she fired the real 9mm the recoil was only a little more noticeable anyway. Another of several reasons Jessica had surrendered the Shield to Candice. If the worst happened and Candice had to use it, she didn’t want her daughter to need to fight to control the weapon that might save her life.
Other than less recoil and having no chance of actually killing a target, the major difference between the real gun and the target gun Candice was actually using was how many rounds each could fire. The Shield was limited to seven bullets, plus one more if a live round was carried in the chamber. Jessica flatly forbade that. The air gun, however, held dozens of BBs when fully loaded.
The little metal spheres spat out one after another, most of them plinking off the three cans set up on the three highest steps on the ladder. Sometimes Austin offered a target correction, but mostly he just stood ready to intervene if needed and simply watched along with Jessica as the ten-year-old bounced BBs off the targets.
“Outstanding.” Austin said when Candice finally squeezed the trigger and the gun didn’t fire. “Now, trade with me.”
Candice clicked the air gun’s safety on and shifted her grip so she held it barrel down before holding it out to Austin. He took it and handed her the real gun, the Shield. Jessica bit her lip, even though she knew it was currently unloaded. Practice, practice, practice; it was Austin’s second rule when it came to weapons.
“So you fired, or tried to fire, and the gun doesn’t go off.” he said, tucking the air gun into one of the pockets on the gear harness he habitually wore when out and about.
“I could rack the slide, because it might be a bad round.”
“Right, but if you’re shooting for real, and you need to keep shooting because it’s dangerous, what’s the best move.”
“Magazine release, let it fall, and rack the slide to make sure the chamber’s empty.” Candice answered. “Because it could still be a bad round.”
“Do it.” Austin said encouragingly.
Candice thumbed the control that held the magazine in, and it clattered to the pavement at her feet. As it fell, she reached with her left hand and gripped the pistol’s slide. Pushing with her right hand and pulling with the left, the girl worked the slide back with no sign of unfamiliarity or hesitation.
“Empty gun, you know it’s empty now … why?”
“Because I can see in the chamber right now.”
“And you need to keep shooting.”
“Second magazine, slap it into the gun and use the slide release.”
“Good, do it.”
Jessica watched as Candice took another, also empty for the lesson, magazine from the little sleeve pocket attached to the Shield’s holster and slid it into the empty well in the gun’s grip. The slide click-clacked forward as she thumbed the lever, and she put both hands back on the weapon in the proper two-handed shooting grip as she leveled the gun and aimed again.
“Good. Good job girlie-girl.” Austin said approvingly.
“I haven’t forgot.”
“Which is why we always keep practicing.” Austin told her. “So it’s always fresh in your mind. What’s the biggest mistake you can make if you need to shoot for real?”
“Panicking. Panicking and rushing.”
“Because you forget and make mistakes.”
“And mistakes kill.”
“So right.”
“Thanks Austin.” Candice said, lowering the pistol. She held it pointed at the ground in front of her and removed the magazine, then checked the chamber twice — making it obvious that she was looking very carefully in it — before clicking the safety on and putting it in the holster attached to the right side of her belt. “If we’re done, time to load the magazines, right?”
“Nothing’s worse than an unloaded gun if you need one.” Austin said with a nod, reaching into his pants pocket and pulling out a handful of rounds. He dumped them into her hands, waited for her to transfer them to her pocket along with the magazine she’d just taken from the pistol, then watched as she picked up the fallen magazine. As the girl started stuffing the rounds into the magazine, Austin turned his head to look at Jessica.
“Thank you.” she mouthed at him, forcing a small smile. He nodded back and winked at her.
“Aw shit, I missed target practice?” a slurred male voice called out.
All three heads turned and lifted to one of the houses closer to the beginning of the little peninsula neighborhood of vacation rental homes. A few doors down a man with a wild unkempt bushy beard, and even wilder and longer unkempt hair was half leaning over the front deck’s railing. As the trio looked his way, he waved back. Which caused him to spill a healthy splash out of the open liquor bottle he held in one hand.
“Evening Happy.” Austin called.
“Hello Happy.” Jessica joined in, hoping he didn’t fall off the deck as he dangled himself over the railing. Which had happened at least once that she was aware of, about five weeks ago. She still wasn’t sure how the habitual drunk hadn’t managed to break something, or kill himself, doing it. To be fair, he had managed to catch hold of the deck as he fell long enough to hang and get turned around feet down before his grip slipped and he went down; but still, it wasn’t exactly the shortest drop.
“How’s … how’s she … she hittin’ stuff?” Happy slurred back.
“She’s doing pretty well.” Austin said.
“Good.” Happy said, nodding vigorously. This made him sway back and forth, and he abruptly straightened and stepped — staggered — back unsteadily two steps from the railing before managing to halt himself. He swayed in place for several moments, then lurched forward and managed to press himself against one of the railing posts. “Good skill that.”
“Shooting?” Austin asked.
“Yeah. Get you anything. I did some … some … some shooting before I done figured my plan out.”
“You need anything?” Jessica called. “We’ve got some fresh duck Austin bagged earlier. It’s tasty.”
“Hell no.” Happy said, shrugging in a slow and big motion that seemed to leave him confused halfway through as to how, or why, his shoulders were rolling up so much. Then he burped and shook his head. “Got everything I need.”
“Just checking. Have fun.” Jessica said politely, hiding her resignation.
“Want us to let you know the next time we do some shooting?” Austin asked.
“Naw. Just makin’ … makin’ … just be fun to sit an’ watch ifin I was here when you did it.”
“Here’s hoping.” Austin said. “We’re headed in though. Take it easy.”
“Have yourselves a fine fuckin’ night.” Happy said, raising the bottle and saluting them with it. Jessica watched as he tried to reach around the post and reach his mouth with it for a drink, and turned away with a brief laugh she couldn’t quite manage to stifle as all he managed to accomplish was to slop another measure of the liquid down his front.
“Maybe we should bring him another shirt and pants?” Candice asked in a normal tone, one that wouldn’t carry over to the drunk’s house.
“Oh no.” Austin groaned as he walked over to the platform ladder to fold it up. “It took me, Byron, and Carlo two hours to talk him into changing into that outfit.”
“And I had to burn the old one.” Jessica added.
“Burning the clothes was the easy part, believe me.” Austin said. “You weren’t there when he changed.”
