DISASTER: Too Late to Prep

by Terry McDonald

  “Hell yeah I feel weird. Dad put us in an awkward place. I need to tell you about the attack on our homes, and about my trip to town. What I saw and learned. I’ll talk while I replace the two stitches on your forehead... The end of the cut’s gaping open like a little mouth above your eyebrow.”

  Max shuddered at her graphic description.

  Ada removed items from the duffle bag and organized the contents into piles on the cot. “Ah, ha.” She returned and set a small, plastic, compartmented sewing kit on the table before pouring water into a pot to warm on the stove.

  Max waited until she sat at the table before speaking. He was eying the sewing kit. “I was out of it the first time you sewed me, but I have a feeling this is going to hurt.”

  “No doubt. But a real man won’t even flinch.”

  “Then you’d better go find one. I’ll probably scream like a baby.”

  “Without Novocain, I think I would too. You have a few minutes of reprieve until the water boils. The cut needs washing and the needle and thread have to be sterilized.”

  “You were going to tell me about the attack.”

  “Yes, but it’s going to be condensed. Thinking about it is hard enough. That night, near nine o’clock, Otis was on guard duty, sitting outside on his porch. You know Dad and Otis had their own houses on the property?” As she was speaking, she removed two sewing needles from the plastic box and threaded them with white thread.

  “Yes.”

  “I had a room in Kings home. He and Hattie were getting on. It was unspoken, but I was there just in case one of them fell or had a stroke, you know. Anyway, Otis saw a lot of headlights on the road coming from the direction of the Dobbs place and sounded the alarm ... Rang a bell like a dinner bell,” she expanded, to answer Max’s questioning look.

  “We had, what we thought was a defense plan. If anyone rang a bell, Me, Dad and Otis were to grab our weapons and go to preselected concealed places on the property. King was to stay inside his home to protect it. My two oldest brothers were to stay inside at dad’s house and Otis’s oldest son and daughter in their house. My mom and Otis’s wife and some of the other kids, those old enough to shoot were armed too.”

  “Sounds like you had plenty of firepower. What happened?” Max asked.

  “An army happened. I took my position in the barn loft at the hay door. Max, by the time I got in position, the first of the vehicles were coming up the drive. Judging by the headlights, there were at least ten more pickups behind it. I could see men in the cabs and in the beds. I’m guessing at least forty or fifty.”

  “Damn.”

  Ada nodded. “Damn is right, but that wasn’t all of them. The trucks stopped two-hundred feet from Otis’s place. His house was the first on the drive.”

  “I remember passing it going to King’s,” Max said.

  “Here’s where it gets horrible. We should have started shooting right away. We knew they were there for no good. What you said, us being nice, helped do us in. All the men gathered in a group and I could hear one of them talking loud, but they were too far away to understand what he was saying. When he finished talking, the men split into smaller groups. The man shouted, “Go,” and the groups came charging, screaming, and scattering to take different paths.”

  Max said, “I remember how overcast and dark it was that night. You had to be terrified.”

  “Pissing scared. Max, they came like animals. Shouting, hooting, growling, and they were running fast. They were in the yards so quick we barely had time start shooting. Otis fired at them first and I saw a man fall. Then the men started shooting at the houses, but not just shooting. They charged the houses, kicked the doors open, and ran inside.

  “I know there was shooting coming out of the windows from my relatives firing at the men, but it was just too fast, faster than you can imagine. They were inside Otis and dad’s homes before I even shot a round. King’s house was farthest from where they parked their pickups. At least fifteen of the men were running to there. I know I hit one of them and I saw others fall from Dad and Otis shooting, but the gang did the same thing, kicked their way in.

  Ada paused. “Give me a moment.”

  She removed the pan of steaming water from the stove dropped the two prepared needles into it along with a square of blue cloth that matched the color of the binding holding his splint in place. She put the pan back on the stove and continued talking.

  “What I didn’t know, but Dad saw from his position, was more men had sneaked onto the property and broke into the back doors when the shooting started. God damn it, Max. There was so much shooting going on inside the houses it looked like lightening was going off in every room.

  “I came under fire. Bullets were smacking the wood all around me, knocking holes in it. Dad called on my radio to fall back to Chickenshit.”

  “Chickenshit?” Max repeated.

  “Yeah. Otis’s sense of humor. Our battle plan included a few fall back positions if things went wrong. Chickenshit was the name for the rendezvous point from where we would run away from the fight. Dad and Otis were already there, at the edge of the field. Somehow, Grandpa made it too. Grandpa said, “Nothing we can do except live to fight another day. There’re too many and we can’t save anybody.”

  “We took off running. Passing behind your place, we heard shooting. Gramps told us we had to see if we could help your family. They’d kicked your back door in too. We could hear noise from the front of the house.

  “The house was empty. Everyone was in the front yard. I looked out the window... Max, you probably don’t want to hear this. You know you were rescued.”

  “Tell me. Tell me everything.”

  “You were on the ground, tied up. There were maybe fifteen men in the yard. Billy Ray was with them. We could see your boy was dead. The gang members were still raping your wife. They’d already killed your daughter. Maybe she fought too much or else they raped her to death.”

  Max gasped. Ada looked a question at him.

  “No,” he said. “Finish it.”

  “Your head was so bloody that we thought you were dead too, but you were only knocked out because you came to and began screaming and cursing. You even managed to get your legs free. We were all four at the front windows in the living room. King shouted, “Kill them,” and opened fire on the gang.

  “We dropped five of the gang, but the rest scattered. Billy Ray hid behind a pickup truck. King shouted, “Get Max and his woman.” Dad and Otis ran out. Dad grabbed you, while Gramps and I fired cover. Otis almost had your wife, but they shot his arm and he had to leave her.

  “She was crawling towards the house. I saw Billy Ray shoot her at least six times.

  “Your forehead was pouring a river of blood. Gramps found sewing stuff on the coffee table. Someone had started an embroidery project.”

  “Dorrie,” Max supplied. “She was doing one of those ‘Home Sweet Home’ things you see framed in some houses.

  “The cut was almost completely across your forehead just above your eyebrows. The skin was peeled-up about two inches, like somebody started to scalp you. I could see your skull. Gramps said you were bleeding out and told me to sew you quick so it wouldn’t be a waste saving you.

  Jacob and Otis were still shooting out the windows and Gramps was helping me sew. Right after I put the last stitch in, a bullet came through a window and dropped Gramps dead to the floor. Otis shouted there were more trucks coming up the drive and that’s when we hightailed it out of there.”

  Ada stopped talking and stood, groaning as she did. “I have a feeling tomorrow’s going to be worse than now. I honestly thought about abandoning the bag, but I couldn’t.”

  She motioned to the pot on the stove. “Water’s boiled long enough. It’s time to sew you. I’ll have to sit to do it because I’m too unsteady on my legs. Spread a blanket on the table and lie on it. It won’t break. Gramps made it.”

  While Max prepared the operating table, Ada poured part of the hot water onto
another rag and scrubbed her hands. She poured peroxide onto cotton balls and used them to clean his wound.

  He lay on his side so she could access his cut. She fished the end of a floating thread from the steaming pot.

  Sitting in her chair, she gazed at his face with a kind expression. “Even with your head swollen, I could get used to you. You’re not all that ugly.”

  Max smiled back at her, “You’re just saying that because you’re about to hurt me”

  Ada started to say something, but stopped and looked at his eyes for a long moment. “Yes Max, this is going to hurt, but a manly man like you can take it, I’m sure.”

  He proved her wrong. He whined and whimpered throughout the entire ordeal of two stitches.

  “Damn, Max. Do you need a lollipop?” She wiped a trickle of blood from his eyebrow.

  “Yeah, I do. That hurt like hell.”

  “It had to be done. Your extra little forehead mouth was too distracting. Besides, I sewed it so good, I think the scar will fade in a few years.”

  “Believe me, I appreciate it.”

  “Thanks. Where were we? Oh, getting away from your house.”

  Max said, “I don’t remember waking up again when I was tied up, but I remember the rest,” Max said. “Thank you. I know it was as hard to tell as it was for me to hear it.”

  “Yes it was. Max, I have some important things to tell you about my trip, but not tonight. I need to go to sleep. I don’t feel so well.”

  “No wonder. Thirty miles is a hell of a trek.”

  “Will you massage my legs again after I lay down?”

  Ada lay on the cot still dressed in the clothing she’d worn back to the cabin. She fell asleep while Max worked on her legs. Her legs were lean and he could feel the knots loosen as he gently kneaded her calves. He worked one leg at a time, moving up from foot to her thigh.

  He covered her with a blanket, put more wood in the stove, and then made a sleeping pad on the floor near the cot.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Max eased from the pad, stifling groans caused by his still bruised body. He visited the outhouse to take care of morning business and then went in search of the spring Ada had mentioned. It wasn’t easy to find. After wandering back and forth for almost fifteen minutes, he stepped on a mushy section of forest floor.

  He followed the wet trail to its source, a small spring coming straight from the ground. Someone had dug out the mouth of it and stacked stones to form a round basin three feet wide and two deep. The water in the basin was crystal-clear but he doubted the flow was more than a few gallons per minute.

  He returned to the cabin to retrieve their empties. Ada was up, limping around the kitchen area. She was less haggard than the night before.

  “Good morning Max. Thanks for letting me sleep in.”

  “How’re the legs this morning?”

  “It took me five minutes to straighten them without cramping, but better I think. Beside the walking and the load, I let myself get dehydrated.”

  Max smelled something delicious and went to the stove. A mound of bacon was sizzling in the frying pan.

  “Yum. Bacon.”

  “An entire pound. We don’t have refrigeration and I left it in the bag all night. We’ll have half for breakfast and the rest at lunch. We’ll have eggs with it.”

  “Eggs. You had eggs in the duffle?”

  “I only cracked two”

  Max felt his stomach gurgle. “Amazing. I could eat three with no problem at all. I like beef stew, but...”

  “Three it is, then.”

  Max put all their empty water bottles in the plastic tub and returned to the spring. After filling them, he stuffed the bottles under his jacket inside his tucked in tee shirt and filled the tub with water.

  Almost a third sloshed out on the way to the cabin. He tapped the door with his foot and called for Ada to open it. He placed the plastic tub on the counter and set the refilled bottles with the rest. Ada had returned to the stove to stir the eggs. A mound of bacon was in a plate on the table.

  “God, bacon smells good. I brought you a pan of water to wash with after breakfast.”

  Ada glanced at him. “Do I stink?”

  “Yeah. That’s how I was able to locate you in the woods yesterday.”

  “Ha, ha.”

  “No, you don’t stink. I figured you were on your sore legs cooking, the least I could do is fetch some wash water.”

  “That was thoughtful, but I probably do stink after the day I had. Water’s hot in the kettle. Make us some instant and grab a seat. Let’s not talk about anything serious until after we eat.”

  “Suits me. I’d like to wash too. Let’s not get serious until we’re full and clean. I have a deep down, burning desire to feel normal again.”

  The conversation while eating was mostly grunts and satisfied moans from both sides of the table. Max swallowed the last bite of scrambled eggs, washed it down with a final gulp of coffee, and pushed back from the table.

  “That was good. I declare you, ‘the bacon and scrambled egg queen’.”

  Ada smiled at the compliment. “Just think, we get to do it again for lunch. Max, the only other container big enough to hold water to wash with is the ash bucket by the stove. Emptied and rinsed it should be clean enough.”

  “That’ll do me.”

  “You’ll find clean clothing in the bag. You’ll need to dip your head in the bucket. Your hair’s matted with dried blood. We’ll clean the cut with peroxide after you bathe.

  The cloud cover was dissipating and the day warmer than the previous, but there was still a chill to the air. At the spring, Max rinsed the bucket and stripped. Ada and he had searched the cabin for soap, but came up empty handed.

  He used a rag and scrubbed until every part of skin he could reach was raw. He had to go gently on his forehead, the painful area extended well outside the edges of the cut. His eyebrows felt puffy and swollen. The splinted arm hindered his efforts

  Dipping his head into the freezing cold water in the bucket was an act of courage. Working the blood matted clumps of hair with his fingers turned the first bucketful pink. After going through three buckets of water, he declared himself clean as he could get. He shivered into his clothing and raced to the warmth of the stove.

  Ada was at the couch going through the duffle bag. He saw the water in the pan was dirty, took it out and emptied it and then went to stand by the stove.

  “It’s warmed some from yesterday, but it’s still chilly out. How bad does my face look? I know its swelling. All I have to do is raise my eyes to see my eyebrows.”

  Ada found what she was searching for and came to stand beside him. “You look like hell, but it’ll get better. I need another favor. I carried the bag with the strap on my shoulder, actually both, for as long as I could. I need you to smear some ointment on them.”

  “No problem. I hope what you carried was worth the pain.”

  “Think about the bacon and eggs.”

  “Oh, right.”

  “What I gathered was worth it. Clothes for you and me, pants, socks, underclothes. More food. Most of it dehydrated and freeze-dried. Let’s see. Lighters, some over-the-counter medicines, the sewing kit. Toilet paper, ibuprofen. Things we’ll need. I can’t believe I forgot something as simple and needed as soap.”

  Ada had Max turn so she could tie a sweatshirt across her chest in order to expose her shoulders. She sat in a chair at the table. Max moved behind her and saw the condition of her shoulders.

  Blisters had formed and burst on the upper most part of her shoulders. The same for where the strap of the duffle crossed her collarbones. On the rounded part of her back were two, wide raw welts showing pink flesh underneath.

  “Whoa, girl. Your shoulders are a mess.”

  “Tell me about it. Use a soft touch with the cream. It hurts for even my shirt to touch it.”

  Max spread the antibiotic cream on the raw spots, feeling bad every time he caused her to wince. He used over half
of the tube of ointment. Screwing the cap on, he said, “You’ll be sore for a few days, but the treatment should help.”

  “It already has. Turn your back so I can dress. I need to find a soft sweater.”

  He heard her at the cot rustling through the duffle bag. “I’ll put water on for coffee.”

  Max filled the kettle with water, set it to boil and turned from the stove to see Ada already seated at the table.

  She began talking. “Most of the trip to Toccoa was just walking through the woods. The WMA and the National Forest lands it joins with have trails throughout. I know them from growing up here. I’ve spent entire summers roaming the woods.

  “Near Toccoa, I had to leave the forest to get to my friend’s house, Nurse Jean, the lady I worked with once.

  “Max, Toccoa’s, pardon me, fucked up. The main road into town is blocked with wreaked cars and trucks. Behind that barricade is another made of wood and sandbags. There’s a huge plywood sign that said ‘If you don’t live here you can’t come here’. Men armed with automatic rifles were behind the barricade.

  “There are dozens of stranded vehicles outside the barricade. People were living in some. There were tents set up too, at least a hundred. People were milling around and they were in bad shape. I think they were starving. I saw fire rings with fires going, but nothing cooking.

  “There could be as many as three hundred men, women, and children in the camp. I guess they don’t have enough gas in their vehicles to go anywhere else or there’s nowhere for them to go. I had to take another route in.”

  Max asked, “So you think they’ll just stay there and starve to death? Why don’t they rush the gate and..., shit, and then what, pillage the townspeople? Damn.”

  “It’s crazy. I think they may have tried to break through and that’s why there’re so many guards. I went back into the woods and took a very rough way to get closer to my friends house. It’s extremely hilly near Toccoa.”

  “Weren’t you frightened about getting caught?”

  “Hell yes I was, especially being black in redneck heaven in the middle of an apocalypse. I did think, more than once about turning back, but I didn’t. I felt a need to know what’s happening in the world.”