by Kurt Gepner
Hank interrupted the man. "You know," he suddenly said. "I’ve got a brother named Warren."
The interruption derailed the guard from his droning commentary. "Really," Warren said with interest. "It’s not too common a name. Have you heard from him?"
"No," Hank said. "He lives in Butte, Montana." Then, closing the book, he said, "Well, I guess I should see how the Mrs. is doing…" and he wandered back toward the hagglers.
After the two women had struck a deal, the couple took their goods and left. The store would open an hour after sunrise and they would be ready for a new day of trading. In the mean time, the Caravan was anxiously awaiting news of their business.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Not feeling very social, Hank bowed out of the conversation at hand. Instead, he relegated himself to the Duck Truck, where he set about inspecting and cleaning his new weapons. It was dark and he shouldn’t be using the flashlight, but he didn’t care. He needed a distraction. His world had completely collapsed and the only thing he could manage to do was focus all of his attention on one, mindless, but productive task.
Around the fire, Evie was the center of attention. She sparkled as she talked about the store and the haggling and all that she had learned. And after knowledge was exchanged and questions answered, the Caravan set guards and went to sleep.
Hank stayed busy in the Duck Truck and after a while he brought out his journal. For a long time he stared at the waiting page with pen poised. Twice he was passed by Silas, who had taken first ground watch. Andrea, apparently a tireless insomniac, had volunteered for the first top watch. Finally, Hank set his pen to the paper.
Day 7 – After Dark
I am lost. I don’t know what to do or why I should do it. These people look to me for their salvation, but I am lost. I feel like eating a bullet. I want Evie to hurt like I do. I feel like calling a meeting and screaming "Evie has been having a year-long affair with Taylor and was waiting for me to finish building the garage so she could get divorced and marry him." Then I would look her in the eye and blow out the back of my head. I want her to be hated for what she has done. I want her to have nightmares until she dies of misery. This is how I feel. But I won’t do that, because I care about my family. I care that they are safe and secure. First I was betrayed by a stranger then my wife. I am blind. I cannot trust my own judgment. We just need to get to the Meadow. The meadow was my haven. A tiny valley of tranquility. Now it will be my purgatory. I was excited to finally share it with Evie. Now I feel like I’m showing a serpent the path to Eden. I was taking these people there, because it is hidden and def~~~
He looked at the doorway of his stone hut and saw Stewart and Evie standing there, holding hands. Evie looked at Hank and kept her eyes on him as she reached up and caressed Stewart’s jaw. Stewart took her hand into his and leaned over. They kissed.
"Why are you doing this?" Hank bawled.
"Because," Stewart said. "You’re stupid and can’t see what is obvious."
"What do you mean?" Hank desperately asked.
"Come on, Hank," Stewart said with disdain. "How many times were you left alone when Taylor canceled your plans and then you discovered that Evie was working late?"
"A lot of times," Hank admitted. "But I had no reason to suspect anything."
"Okay, then," Stewart said. "Why would I trade off all my motorcycles for weapons?"
Hank didn’t know what he was talking about. He saw several shadowy shapes walk out from behind his stone hut. They all had guns. There were dozens of them.
"When I kill you," Stewart said with a casual smile. "Evie will want to be with me, because..."
Hank’s eyes flew open and he nearly swallowed his tongue from drawing a breath so quickly. His dream was still vivid in his mind. He tossed aside his notebook and jumped out of the cab. Silas called after him as he ran up to the store.
The guard sitting on the steps of the store didn’t move. Hoping against his revelation, Hank shouted at the man. "Hey!" The guard’s head lifted and he quickly stood and stumbled backward. Hank ran up to the steps as the man fumbled with his rifle. From the foot of the steps, Hank asked the man, "Were you here when those people traded the motorcycles for the guns?"
"Huh?" The man was confused and disoriented, but finally got his rifle shouldered.
Hank impatiently asked, "Do you know about the people who traded their dirt bikes for some guns?"
"Uh… yeah," the man answered, fully befuddled.
A voice came from above. "Dan, what’s going on down there?"
Hank ignored the voice and pressed on. "Do you know who they were? Did you see them?" He demanded of the man.
"Yeah. I saw the guy who did the trading," the guard replied.
"Do you know who he was?" Hank was trying to be as patient as he could, but he couldn’t help grilling the man.
"No. He was just passing through," the man said.
Silas came trotting up behind Hank. "What’s the deal?" He asked.
"Where was he going," Hank drilled without acknowledging Silas.
The man whined, "How should I know?"
"Well, who does?!" Hank was feeling desperate. "Never mind! Was he tall and wiry and did he look beat up?"
The man vigorously nodded. "Yeah, that’s him to a T."
"Oh, shit!" Hank exclaimed. He turned to Silas. "Get everybody up."
Unquestioningly, Silas turned to follow his orders. As he jogged back to the Caravan, his booming voice rang out. "Up! Up! Everybody up! Move it, move it!"
"How many were in the group?" Hank turned back to the guard.
"I don’t know. Six or seven, maybe more. Only a few of them had bikes," he said.
Hank left the guard in a daze and limped back to the Caravan. Behind him, the voice from the roof asked, "What was that all about, Dan?"
The bewildered Dan answered, "I have no idea."
People were still gathering as Hank approached. The central fire was being re-stoked as sleepy faces, full of fear, watched him limp into the circle of light. Hank didn’t want to cause panic, but didn’t want to risk there being any confusion, either. Without waiting for everyone to assemble, he addressed the congregation.
"I’m going to take a group of men on ahead to The Meadow." A murmur splashed through the crowd. Hank didn’t pause. "Earlier today, Stewart came through here and traded from some guns." Several gasps rippled among the refugees as the two facts were quickly added together. "The Meadow is very well protected and easily defended. The only way we can get in there is if we surprise them, early in the morning."
"I’ll come with you, Hank!" Andrea had just climbed down from the U-haul.
Clacking shut his teeth, Hank looked at Andrea with clear irritation. "No!" He belted. "I trust you and I need you to maintain the order and security of this Caravan. You’re in charge of that while I’m gone."
Everyone, especially Evie and Andrea, looked surprised by his proclamation. Hank disregarded the questioning looks. "Felina, Bertel, I want you two to work together in the kitchen. Evie," he paused, momentarily unable to speak to her. She appeared receptive and anticipated his command. "You and Susanna Rae need to spend the morning trading for anything pertaining to food and its preservation. We especially need canning supplies. Think one jar per person, per day for three months. Minimum. After you’ve got as much of that as you can get, then we need hunting supplies and tools and more ammunition."
Pressing his fingertips into his temples, Hank tried to focus. "Jessie, I want you to drive the Duck Truck. When you get the Caravan rolling, get on that street," he pointed, "and follow it. It goes through town and along the river. You’ll eventually come to a road on your left that goes up at a steep angle. We’ll leave a sign, so you can be sure. Wait there.
"Camille, how are you feeling?" Hank asked his father-in-law.
Camille did three quick squats and sprang to his feet. "Fit as a fiddle," he said.
Hank was truly impressed with his father-in-law. "Okay. You take the ne
w 30-30, Tom, and TJ should grab a twenty-two. Dale, I want you to take Donkers. Silas, take Ringer and that nine-mil. I want each of you to load your weapons and bring one extra load of ammo. If we need more than that, we’ve already lost. And grab some bottles of water. We’ve got twenty miles to cover before dawn, so make your goodbyes quick."
"Whoa..." TJ voiced his rejection of the plan. "Twenty miles?!" He held up his hands and shook his head as he spoke. "We've been working all day. There's no way we can make twenty more miles."
Tom nodded in agreement. "That's a real long walk, Hank."
Hank set his jaw in a frown and sucked in a deep breath. "I should have killed him, I know. I could have and I should have, but I didn't. He came through here and traded for guns. What does that tell you?"
TJ wasn't ready to go along with Hank's logic. "People need guns these days. That would be a long way to go just to find out that he's just looking out for himself."
"Oh, come on, TJ!" Hank was losing his patience. He counted the points off on his fingers. "We were headed this way, and so was he. Now he's got a crew and passed through here, picking up a bunch of guns along the way. Would you rather take a long walk and prove me wrong, or show up tomorrow just in time for an ambush?"
Without answering, TJ folded his arms across his chest.
"C'mon, Guys. I know it's a long walk. I know we're all tired and hurtin'. But this is for our families, for these people." Hank implored. "Stew wants revenge and the people we love are going to suffer for it."
"I'm in," Camille chimed.
"Me too," added Silas.
"I didn't appreciate me and my family getting locked in a box," Dale said. "I'd sure like to settle that score."
In the end, Hank had the team he wanted and they all went to say their goodbyes.
Dale joined Val and Patty, holding them and kissing them as they cried. Tom and Sarah were less expressive as they parted. But Jimmy clung to Tom’s leg until he was pulled off in a fit of tears. Hank tried to ignore Lexi fiercely kissing TJ while he discussed the approaching journey with Silas. Evie, Susanna Rae and Norah fawned over Camille, but when Hank didn’t join them, Evie approached him instead.
"Aren’t you going to tell me goodbye?" She asked with a pout.
Silas abruptly excused himself, leaving the couple to their moment. Hank worked his jaw, grinding his teeth in an effort to control his rage. He wanted to spit in her face and call her a hypocritical slut. He could feel tears building and he looked away. "Evie…" he started without knowing what he could say. She fell against her husband, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his chest.
"Oh, Hank!" She cried. "Pleeease, please, please don’t get yourself killed. I need you!" She sobbed. "For a long time, I wasn’t sure if you were still the man I loved, but after everything that’s happened, I know that it was me who changed. You’ve always been there for me and I couldn’t bear to lose you."
Hank’s jaw ached. Not knowing what to do, he patted her on the back and said, "This isn’t the time for that conversation." He wrapped his hands around her shoulders and stood her at arm’s length from him. She looked up adoringly at him, but with a certain desperation in her eyes. He frowned down at her and said, "I’m not going to get killed, but I’ve got to be focused. I can’t let myself think about anything else, right now. All I need is to know that you’re going to remember every conversation we ever had about buying a farm and trade like your life depends on it."
"I will, Hank," she said. "I promise."
For whatever that’s worth, thought Hank. "I’ve got to go," he brusquely said and walked away in the same manner. "Reggie, Come!" he commanded and the Rottweiler was at his side before he had taken two more paces. Evie watched his back fade into the darkness. The other men trotted to catch up and she watched them disappear, too.
"Huh…" Susanna Rae voiced. "That was weird," she observed.
Swallowing down an unnamed foreboding, Evie said, "Tell me what isn’t weird, these days." She left her sister standing on the edge of the firelight.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Hank’s walking staff clacked a brisk cadence for the wearily trudging men. The ever-present scent of burnt homes drifted pungently with the shifting breeze along the chilly dark road. Unlike Portland and Vancouver, however, there were no screams or gunshots in the near distance. No bonfires dancing star-like along the horizon. Washougal had an air of order and peace and civility. It was easy to feel safe in its streets. In many ways, it seemed like the town was only suffering a power outage.
Before they had five miles behind them, Dale began limping and falling behind. When Hank realized that he’d lost a member, they stopped and waited for Dale to catch up.
"How’re you feeling, Dale?" Hank was concerned for his neighbor, but at the same time, he was perturbed.
"I won’t lie," Dale said. "My hip is feeling like someone stuck a spike in it. This is a lot different than flipping cars." He massaged his left side as he spoke.
"All right," Hank said. "We can’t afford to lose you, if we can help it, but you can’t be slowing us down, either. Let’s do a few stretching exercises and see if we can’t work out your stitch."
TJ huffed. "Come on, Hank! We don’t have time for this." He turned to Dale and said, "I don’t mean to insult you, but why don’t you just save us the time and head back?"
"TJ!" Hank stepped directly in front of the younger man and leaned down to close the space between their faces. "I’ve had enough of your shit!" He shouted. "What makes you think that you have any say in how this operation is run?"
TJ gave Hank a shove that sent him staggering back a few steps. "Get out of my face!"
Reggie barked ferociously and would have been on TJ's throat with gnashing teeth, if Hank hadn't shouted "Reggie, No!" while catching his balance.
Silas stepped between them, facing TJ. "Hey, you two. This ain’t the place, or the time!"
"Both of you can kiss my ass!" TJ proclaimed, apparently unshaken by Reggie's near attack. "Hank’s little puppet. That’s all you’ve ever been, Silas. Before Hank, you were so far up Dustin’s ass that you could only see when he talked."
Silas balled up his fist. "You’ve always been a hot shot, punk, TJ. But you’re nothin’ more than a pretty little boy with a pretty little smile. If you keep jackin’ that jaw, I’ll take it as an invitation to teach you a lesson."
"Knock it off!" Camille bellowed. "Are you all stupid? We could all be dead in a few hours and you’re all acting like a bunch of whiney, little bitches! Either we call off this thing or we do it one man’s way. Are you taking charge, TJ?"
Taken aback by the question, TJ stuttered. "W-well, uh, no."
"Silas, are you taking charge?" Camille asked.
"No, sir," Silas quickly answered.
"Fine then. Hank’s in charge," Camille declared. "We’ll do things his way, ‘cause he’s got us this far." Then he incongruously winked and smiled at the youngest man of the group. "Besides, you’re interested in the wrong girl, if you want to get on Hank’s bad side."
Whether it was Camille’s logic, or rhetoric, or the warning growl coming from Reggie’s throat that sobered him, TJ took a moment and then replied. "You’re right, Camille. I want to get through this thing as much as anybody. You’re the man, Hank. You say jump, I’ll jump."
"Good," Hank said. "Give me your rifle." TJ handed over his rifle. "Now get your ass back to the Caravan."
"Whoa, Hank! Slow down." This time Tom intervened. "He just gave you the reins. What’re you doing?"
"I’m cutting our losses before he gets somebody killed," Hank answered without taking his eyes off TJ.
"But Hank," Silas said. "You heard him. He’s gonna do what you say."
"Good," Hank said again. "Get walking, TJ."
Clearly suffering from internal conflict, TJ finally broke away from the men and began storming down the road.
Handing the rifle to Silas, Hank said, "Let’s get a little farther up the road." The men f
ell in behind Hank, except Dale, who limped beside him.
"What are you doing, Hank?" Dale asked his neighbor.
"He's a loose cannon," Hank said.
Dale grunted, either in pain or frustration, then said, "I don't know what has got to you in the last few hours, but you don't seem to be seeing things clearly. So I'm telling you that you're making a mistake. We need him."
Hank stopped flat. His mind churned over Dale's words and he thought of the last time he ignored the advice of his long-time friend and neighbor. He hollered back down the road. "TJ!" His shout rang through the darkness. "Get back here!" They waited and finally heard the rapid footfalls of a running man. Before TJ caught a breath, Hank said, "Dale here convinced me that we need you. Are you going to take my orders?"
Still gulping air, TJ nodded. "I’m your man, Hank."
"Give him back his gun," Hank ordered. Silas handed it over and patted the younger man on the back. "Now, let’s do a little stretching."
CHAPTER NINE
A few miles later, they came to a turn off with a steep angle of ascent. "Okay, this is it," Hank announced. "I want a knee high pile of rocks here, there and over there." He pointed at each place he meant. The men quickly completed his orders. When they were done, Hank let his men rest for a few minutes and they drank some water before starting their climb. Nearby, the Washougal River shushed them with its unremitting rush toward the Columbia. The air here was fresh and moist. When Hank began feeling the fringe of a chill, he stood up.
"From here on," he said as the other men stiffly found their feet, "there’s not much level road. We have thirteen point seven miles to go." He looked up to see the last of the stars vanish behind the light-expunging clouds. "I figure it’s just after midnight. Let’s call it one. If we can keep a three mile-an-hour pace, we should get there just before dawn. But that means we don’t stop until we get there."
