by Kurt Gepner
They shook hands and Hank showed them to the cellar and instructed them on the use of the equipment. At the same time, Evie wrote out the contract in duplicate. Dr. Bali added the point that it could, at any time, be terminated by either party. Then, without ceremony, they each signed both copies.
The doctors and their bodyguards finished eating and expressed their gratitude as they stood and readied themselves for departure. "Before you leave," Hank said, "I have to show you to your first patients, as per the terms of our lease."
Dr. Shister gave Hank a look that could only be interpreted as "You are such a sneaky creep." Hank couldn’t help but flinch at the accusation in her expression, but Dr. Bali intervened. "Where are they?" she asked without hesitation.
"Just down here," Hank said and showed the two doctors to Brian and Salvador.
"This is good work," commented Dr. Bali after examining both patients. "Did you do this?"
"No," Hank answered. "My neighbor," he said, thumbing toward the West of his property, "Theresa, is a RN. She is super sick with the flu, but she’s been working like a dog to get everybody fixed up."
"Will she be staying?" Dr. Shister asked. "You know, to help with the clinic?"
"I don’t think so," Hank shook his head. "She’s got three kids and wants to get them out of the city."
Nodding with an understanding look, Dr. Bali said, "We will look after your people, but there is little that we can do for this one." She waved toward Salvador. "He is mending. Time is what he needs, not a hospital. You should take him with you."
Hank opened his mouth to refute her prognosis, but quickly snapped it shut as he realized that she was being pragmatic. "Okay," he said with a nod. "We’ll figure it out."
Dr. Bali folded her copy of the lease contract and tucked it into a pocket. "When can we move in?"
"I would like you to leave one of your guys here to help keep the place secured," Hank said. "I hope to be rolling out of here in about an hour."
"Just like that?" Dr. Shister asked.
"Yep," Hank said. "Just like that. But there is one more order of business before you leave." The doctors looked curious and he excused himself only to return immediately, carrying a large suitcase. He laid it on the coffee table and opened it. "Theresa said this is enough to treat hundreds of people. It’s all we can spare."
Dr. Shister’s adolescent giggle returned. "So you did rob the pharmacy!"
Hank stood up straight and rolled his shoulders. "We… secured some valuable assets," he said haltingly. "Now we’re giving them to you."
The two doctors thanked Hank with genuine gratitude and decided to leave behind two men to keep the medicine safe.
PART FOUR
The Road to Hell is Paved
CHAPTER ONE
Chaos ruled.
The ducks, turkeys and chickens, along with a bale of straw and bins of feed, were loaded into the VW Minibus that had been donated by Tom. Attached to the bus, via a newly rigged towing hitch, was the sixteen-foot dual-axle trailer heaping with a mishmash of goods from shop tools to bags of concrete mix. Everything was covered by blue tarps. The VW bus was, in turn, mounted on the car dolly. It replaced the dilapidated Ford Tempo that Norah and Salvador had towed behind their U-haul from Tuscan. The U-haul, for its part, was linked to the Duck Truck with four sets of heavy-duty chains that were linked directly to the frame of the green and yellow pick-up. The train looked as if a child had jigged it together. Each piece, with the exception of the Duck Truck, had been man-handled into place.
The most valuable assets resided in the bed of the Duck Truck. Some of its contents included one full and one partial five-gallon bucket of honey left over from Hank’s beekeeping business. Also tallied in that inventory were two bins of assorted office supplies and one case of printer paper as well as most of the household breakables. Hank's forge and iron-working tools, his moonshining gear, the rear-tine rototiller and other gas-powered equipment got crammed into the back of the antique workhorse.
The U-Haul had been effectively converted to an improvised kitchen and dorm-room and rolling gas station. Not only did it have a full sixty-gallon tank, but the empty engine compartment now housed many different containers of gasoline. Silas and Camille had gone through the neighborhood siphoning fuel into whatever container they could scrounge for the purpose. Most were between one and five gallons in size and now, including the two full tanks in the pick-up and the VW bus, they were carrying over two hundred gallons of fuel.
Inside the cargo area of the U-haul, using two-by-fours and plywood, Tom and Dale had fashioned five, triple high bunk beds. Each bunk was two feet wide by six feet long. Pairs of bunk beds were arranged end-to-end along the right and left walls starting from the front. Leaving an eighteen inch gap from the foot of the left-hand bunks, they built another bunk set perpendicular to the first. Along that bunk was a wall to separate the bed room from the kitchen and at the foot of the bunk was a doorway.
Everything about the dorm was narrow and restrictive, but even Hank and Silas could squeeze their bulk into the area. It could easily, albeit uncomfortably, sleep seventeen people if two used the floor.
The remaining space of the U-haul was fashioned into a kitchen. In the corner, against the newly fabricated wall, Tom had constructed a small two-foot by four-foot concrete form. He also built a four-foot high firewall of brick. Set into the concrete was a two-burner antique wood stove that had been intended for the new apartment. The chimney was nothing more than sheet metal cut from the roof of an abandoned van. Tom had used the gasoline torch to burn off the paint then bent the rectangle of metal into a cylinder, which he riveted together and fit to the stove. The rest of the area was shelves and counter tops.
As a living testament to Evie’s dog handling skill, the canines stood at their assigned jobs taking very little notice of the hustle and bustle that surrounded them. They had been split into two teams. Reggie and Shelby were harnessed together pulling the cart. Kodie and Tessa, for their part, were paired under the two-person carriage that had been pulled out of storage. Evie’s rationale for the arrangement was two-fold. First, she hoped that each of her experienced dogs would teach their novice partners what they needed to know. Second, to counter Shelby’s aggressiveness, it was necessary to team her with the alpha male. Reggie would keep her under control.
At eight thirty-seven in the morning, according to Silas’ watch, it had been light out for nearly three hours. Birds sang joyfully in the trees. Everything that was practical to pack had been packed. Hank called for everyone to gather around. With a great deal of milling about, everyone who had weathered the night under his roof, with the exception of Brian, coalesced into the back yard. When the children got settled down, Hank addressed the assemblage.
"Well folks," he said with exaggerated pomp, "as my first campaign promise, I guarantee lower taxes!" The adults and older children laughed. After letting the tension dissipate for a moment Hank waved to indicate calm. "Okay, okay. So I’m not running for office. But I am going to take all this stuff, and anyone who wants to come with me, up to the mountains."
A brief moment passed as a general murmur rippled through the small crowd. Hank continued, "I’ve leased out this house and property to some doctors, who intend to use it as a clinic. Hopefully they will get good use out of that steam generator down in the cellar."
There was a general rumble of approval among those gathered. "Bertel," Hank said directly to the woman who had proved so indispensable to Evie. "I hope that you will reconsider coming with us…"
"What’s to reconsider?" she asked rhetorically. "I’m standing here, aren’t I? Unless you don’t want an old woman and a bunch of children tagging along…?"
Hank smiled down at the ground and nodded. "Forget I mentioned it." A small chuckle rolled through the group. Hank drew in a deep breath and looked up at the faces that were watching him. Looking around, he opened his mouth to speak, but his voice evaporated in his throat. Anticipatory silence fell upon
the circle of people.
Hank opened his mouth again and found his voice, clear and loud. "This trip won’t be easy." He paused for a heart beat before going on. "In fact, it will be grueling and painful and exhausting." He paused once more. "Each person who can help must do their part, whenever they are needed." Another pause. "This means that those with muscle will be out in front, moving cars and debris, so we can make our way down the road." There were nods. "It means that those who can gather food, supplies and anything worth trading, will be out scrounging through the trash and burned out building we pass along the way, when it’s safe to do so." More nods. "It also means that a couple people will be out, looking for resources and identifying hazards. Our scouts need to be fast and agile and those two motorized scooters were practically made for the job."
"Whoa!" Dale belted from Hank’s immediate right. "Jeremy isn’t going to be a scout."
Hank looked his neighbor in the eye and shook his head. "I didn’t say that he would. I said the scooter would be used that way. I’m sure Brody is up for using his," Hank said extracting a grin from his ward. "And if you or Val want to ride Jeremy’s scooter, that’s fine. But it will be used."
"I can’t ride that damn thing," Dale took a step back.
"Me either," said his wife, Valerie.
"Don’t look at me," Tom and Silas said in perfect unison.
"I’m an old lady," Bertel said.
A small voice sounded from next to Theresa. "I can ride it," Kalika said.
"No!" Theresa commanded. "You’re still sick."
"No I’m not, Mom." Kalika’s voice possessed the full range of a teenager’s whine, though she was only eleven. "I’ve felt fine since Monday!"
"I said no, Kalika," Theresa gave her daughter a set-jaw expression, "now drop it."
Finally, only Jeremy was left. The boy raised his hand, ever so meekly, and said, "I can ride it." His face was the motley crimson of a self-conscious adolescent and he avoided his father’s scowl by alternately studying Hank’s left shoulder and then his boots.
Dale crossed his arms and scowled. "Fine!" He snarled. "But if anything happens to my son," Dale jabbed an accusing finger, "I’m holding you responsible!" Hank closed his eyes and drew a breath. When he opened them again, he gave Dale a sharp nod and turned back to face the others who had gathered around him.
"That’s really what it comes down to," he said to those faces. "I’m responsible. I’ve effectively cut you off from this shelter and now you either join this caravan, with all its food and possessions, or you wander around this ruined city praying to stumble across some scrap of luck that you don’t have to fight for."
Hank scanned the faces and found some that were sour, some admiring and all of them anxious. "I don’t see things getting any better from here. I’m going to drive you like dogs. If you do your part, you’ll get food and water. If you slack off..." He left the alternative unspoken.
"Now," Hank said as he pulled the truck keys from his pocket. "I’ve got all my stuff loaded and I’m going to roll in five minutes." He climbed into the cab of the Duck Truck and throttled the old beast to life. As the old engine idled, warming to a working temperature, he watched the comedy of bustling people through the mirror on his door.
It was then that he noticed Pauline slowly climb the steps of the porch to sit and serenely watch the same comedy. Hank let himself out of the truck and approached his old neighbor.
"Aren’t you coming, Pauline?" he asked
She smiled sadly and said, "If I stay here, I can help Brian recover. If I go with you, I’m too feeble to be of use. I’d just be a hindrance."
It wasn’t that she spoke with overwhelming conviction, rather it was the resignation in her voice that told Hank she wasn’t going to change her mind. He didn’t try to argue with her. Instead he fetched two cartons of cigarettes from the cubby where they were stored. When he handed them up to the woman, she returned his kindness by taking them without argument.
Hank didn’t know what to say without turning the moment into a tragic farewell. Finally, after a long, awkward silence, when he realized that the bustling behind him had stopped he said, "Watch over my place, Pauline, and make sure I get my chickens."
Pauline barked out a raspy laugh and said, "Go on, Moses! I’ll make sure you get your chickens!" She waved at the departing mob and escaped into the master bedroom before her tears fell. Hank turned back to the caravan and began shooting off orders as if the whole exchange had been part of his plan.
"Norah, you drive the dog carriage with Emily. Susanna Rae, you handle the dogs. Lexi, I want you steering and braking the U-haul. Everyone else, just climb on wherever you can, or walk."
"Alone?!?" Lexi demanded.
"I don’t want to be on that thing," Norah complained.
Simultaneously, Susanna Rae said, "Lexi is better with the dogs than I am."
"I should be in front of the caravan," Theresa unexpectedly suggested, "so I can respond to injuries faster. You guys are probably going to get cuts and scrapes."
Hobbling up to his father-in-law, Salvador said, "I wan’ a jobf." Speaking was painful and difficult for him, but he didn’t allow it to show.
Catching Salvador’s pleading look and the mixed expressions on the other faces, Hank turned away to survey the swarm of activity in the rest of the Caravan. He was annoyed with everyone. Salvador took the brunt of his irritation. "The best thing you can do, right now, is recuperate. Go lay down in the U-haul and enjoy the ride."
Stepping in front of Hank’s view, Salvador swallowed down his humiliation and did his best to keep his anger in check. "I’m no’ one of your fuckin’ daugs. I don’t ‘go lay down’! Let me schteer the U-hau’ so Lexi can do sumtin e’se."
Hank was irked and wanted nothing to do with this argument. Evie was near and after silently observing, she stepped beside her husband and laid a hand on his arm. Hank looked into Evie’s creamy jade eyes and gave her the imperceptible nod to take over the situation. With a smile on her lips, Evie sorted out the confusion. "Lexi, you handle the dogs. Susanna Rae, you drive the carriage with Theresa." With a smile at the nurse she said, "You can put all of the first-aid supplies in the basket on the back. Norah, you and the girls ride in the cab with Salvador."
Providing only a moment for compliance, Hank’s voice rose over the tumultuous babbling. It was clear in his tone that his temper had raised to a new level. "Is anybody else unhappy with their arrangements?" he asked the group in general.
There was no further dissent.
Emily and Abby went with their mother, but the other two youngest children were placed in the cart being pulled by the two Rottweilers, Reggie and Shelby. Bertel had initially refused to allow Gregory, a round and pugnacious boy of three, to ride in the canine cart. However, after Theresa placed her two-year-old son, Garrett, into the cart without hesitation and reassured the older woman of its safety, she consented.
The next older group of children, which included Leslie and Kimberly - a pair of four-year-old girls - Jimmy, who was five, the wistful six-year-old Cassie and Theresa’s youngest daughter, seven-year-old Lietha, were given perches upon the flat-bed trailer. All the rest were required, voicing loud and plaintive protests, to walk.
Lexi was delighted to be handling the dogs and the two youngest boys, by extension. Susanna Rae was relieved to have the speed and freedom of movement provided by the carriage. Likewise, Norah was glad at having no part of it and was content to have her daughters together with her husband.
It was another fifteen minutes before everyone was clustering in the street, ready to roll. While Evie settled the disposition of the women and children, Hank huddled with the men and discussed their strategy. When they weren’t moving cars, Dale was to bring up the rear, with Donkers, while Hank walked up front, with Whisper. Silas and Tom were to watch the flanks. Hank handed the .30-06 pistol to Silas. Turning to the wiry man he said, "Sorry, Tom. I’m banking on experience."
Shaking his head to replied,
"Me too. I’d rather stay alive than be armed." When everyone had gathered, Hank didn’t make a ceremony of it. He put the pick-up into granny low and eased onto the gas. The engine rumbled with power and the entire truck shifted as torque poured into the wheels. Hank looked to his left and right without turning his head. The truck was not moving. He gingerly pressed harder on the gas and heard the tires break traction in the gravel, but felt no movement. A little more power and the tires were spinning, but no distance grew between him and the fence.
Finally, he eased off and shut it down. He climbed out of the cab, shoulders hanging low. The load was too much. The truck couldn’t pull it. He lifted his hat, rubbed his fingers through his hair and tugged heavily on his beard. "It’sh my fawt!" Salvador mumble-shouted from the U-haul. "I had da brake shet. Chry now."
Hank dragged both hands down his cheeks and groaned with a mixture of relief and foreboding. "That’s not the way to start out," he shouted back at Salvador.
"Shorry!" Salvador called back.
Hank waved and climbed back into the Duck Truck. The engine instantly roared to life when he turned the key. Putting it back into granny low, he let off the brake and felt the rear end sink as power was converted into motion.
Slowly, the truck inched forward. Barely beyond idle, Hank felt the chains that stretched to the U-haul become taut. The engine hardly noticed. Then the V.W. Minibus and the heaping trailer became part of the load. The Duck Truck shuddered as it took on the burden. Traction slipped in the gravel. In his mirror, Hank saw Silas waving to the men and they converged on the back of the pick-up. Groaning with effort, they tried to give the Duck Truck enough momentum to escape the loose gravel. Then the women got behind the U-haul. Even Bertel and the older children put their backs to it. Hank pressed harder on the gas pedal, spitting stones from spinning tires. With an agonizing slowness they gained ground. With a little more gas and a chirping of rubber, the tires found pavement. The Caravan began to roll.
