“Headache?” Jim snickered.
“A bottle of wine does that to me.” I washed down the pills, and then accepted the cup of brew he handed me.
“We should probably get on the road soon,” Jim said. “I’d like to make it to Sawyer before dinner.”
“We haven’t completely explored this house yet.”
“What’s more to see, Allex?”
“The basement,” I said. “Those olives last night were martini olives, yet I haven’t seen any liquor.”
“Okay, I’ll get the lantern. It’s going to be dark down there,” he said, rising.
“I’m not sure that will be necessary, Jim. I found something very interesting in the bathroom. It’s the house circuit box and one breaker is marked as the generator. I’m guessing this place is wired to run off of it. It would make sense to put the circuit box somewhere easy to locate, and I can’t see these people, with their upscale lifestyle, using gasoline, so I’d say it’s hooked to the propane.”
Jim’s eyes brightened. “Let’s try it.”
I pulled the main off out of habit, and flipped the other switch to on. At first there was nothing, then I heard a ticking. The clock in the bathroom had come to life.
“I think we should check the tank level before depending on it to keep the lights going while we’re downstairs,” Jim said.
I looked into extensive backyard from the glass doors. An elaborate oak stained wooden pergola dominated the poured cement patio and a matching structure further back looked like a child’s playhouse. Right behind the garages, hidden from view to the street, sat the large green propane tank.
“It’s behind the garage,” I called out to Jim as I opened the sliding door.
The protective cap lifted with a little effort and exposed the meter gauge. We were in luck.
“Seventy percent? They must have just had it filled,” Jim observed. “Why is this tank green when ours are all blue?”
“A different company, that’s all.”
*
Even with lights shining the way, we still descended the stairs cautiously. At the foot of the stairs was a row of light switches, each one a dimmer. I turned them on, one at a time. In front of us lay a parquet dance floor, at least thirty foot by thirty foot, highly polished. Off to the left was the long professional wet-bar in laminated cork and six bucket style stools in burgundy leather lined up neatly. I turned slowly in a circle.
“I bet it has a dynamite sound system too,” I sighed while Jim explored the bar. Six small bistro tables were at the other end of the dance floor on plush forest green carpeting. Chairs that matched the barstools sat two each to a glass top table. These people really knew how to entertain.
“The bar is fully stocked, Allex.” Jim frowned. “We wouldn’t be able to take all of this with us.”
“I think we should leave it here …”
“What?”
“… for now. I suggest we stop on our way back and take what we can.” I paused, thinking. “In a way it feels like stealing though.”
“We’re not looting, Allex, that’s stealing. We’re scavenging. There’s a difference. The world has fallen apart and we know the owners are dead. Whatever we find that isn’t already claimed is fair game.”
I looked at Jim and knew he was right. I nodded my head in agreement.
“I wonder if they have a wine cellar.” I grinned. It didn’t take long for us to find the hidden panel that popped open to applied pressure. How Jim knew to press the corners I didn’t ask.
“Oh. My.” I breathed. The room had cases and cases of wine stacked, all labeled with name, type, and year. “We would need the Christmas Truck to get all of this. Come on, let’s close it up.” I stepped back, taking one bottle from the nearest open case: A Cap d’Haute, 1996. It would deserve a special dinner.
“We need to keep looking. I wouldn’t be surprised to find guns too.”
“We really don’t need any more guns, Allex.”
“Perhaps not, but we can keep them out of the hands of others.”
We started at the top of the house and worked our way down, finding only one gun cabinet with a half dozen rifles and two handguns.
“Not what I would have thought, though at least we found the few they had,” I said, as Jim put them inside the wine cellar and closed the panel. I ran a towel over the mirrors, removing any smudges that would draw attention.
“I’ve been thinking about what that Mickey had said about the nice houses he’d found. Maybe we should scout around this neighborhood before we move on,” Jim suggested.
I stood at the stove scrambling some eggs into the remaining ham. We had a late breakfast with the eggs made into sandwiches and we finished the coffee.
“I think that’s a great idea. I’ll get my notepad from the Hummer so I can write down addresses in case we find anything worthwhile.”
Four hours later we had covered only half of the estates. That’s what they were, really—estates. Some had bought two or three of the five acre lots and situated their house accordingly. We walked back to the Hummer pulling a red wagon we found in one of the backyards. The wagon was piled high with an assortment of exotic canned goods, liquor bottles and wine. And guns. We didn’t take all that was there, except for the guns, and I had the addresses and a list of what was left.
“I say we stay until we’ve searched all the houses,” Jim said.
“Agreed. It’s not like they are expecting us at Sawyer, so we’ve got all the time we want to take.”
“I hate to admit this, Allex, but I’m actually having fun going through someone else’s house. Is that sick or what?”“I think it satisfies a voyeuristic side that is part of human nature, Jim.
Though I am glad we haven’t found any more bodies!”
“Yet,” he reminded me.
“Yet,” I agreed.
“Did you leave the generator running?” he asked me.
“Yes, I wanted to heat the water in the tanks. I’m really looking forward to a hot soaking bath tonight. And a shower in the morning,” I said wistfully, missing my hot tub. Without grid power I had to drain it right after the big quake, right after Mark died.We set boxes on the floor and bags on the counter in the kitchen. “We can go through these later and see what we want to take and what we can leave to pick up on our way home,” I said. I turned and stared out the window.
“What’s the matter?” Jim asked, approaching me from behind.
“I feel kind of odd. We’re staying in this really nice house and we don’t even know who these people were or what their names are.”
“That’s easily remedied,” Jim said, going out into the garage. He returned a few minutes later with the car registrations. “Linda and Richard Iverson. I also found his briefcase.” Jim opened the slim attaché. “He was an attorney from the looks of all the legal papers.” He closed the case and set it aside. “Does that help?”
“Yes, thank you.” I smiled with satisfaction. One less mystery on my mind. “How about some lunch before we start on the other houses? We have some smoked salmon, roasted red peppers, kippers, albacore tuna, chicken breast, and a couple cans of clam chowder.”
“I’ll take a chicken sandwich and some soup,” he said. “Do you want me to do anything to help?”
“You could see if there’s anything to drink downstairs.”
I set two bowls of clam chowder on the island and two plates with chicken sandwiches. There was enough lettuce left to put two small leaves on each sandwich. The polished island had four swivel bucket barstools made of birds-eye maple and deep green leather, and I guessed that this was a common and casual place for the family to have quick meals.
Jim returned with a tray sporting two glasses filled with ice and two liquor bottles.
“Ice?” I exclaimed.
“The bar has an icemaker that’s been churning away with the generator on. I know it’s a bit early in the day, but we aren’t driving anywhere so…”
After lunch, I rinsed
the bowls and put everything in the dishwasher, something I was definitely looking forward to running after dinner later.
We took the empty wagon and set out in the opposite direction. The casual walking felt good. Jim and I had spent many hours talking about ourselves during our weekly cribbage games this past winter that the silence we now shared wasn’t awkward in the least. There was a light cloud cover and the sun strained to be seen through the filmy gray.
The first house we came to held nothing for us. The second house had bodies.
“Looks like a murder/suicide,” Jim remarked as he circled the table where the bodies slumped. “From the hole in the skull, I would say he shot her from behind, then sat down and put the barrel in his mouth.”
I was looking around the room and trying not to focus on the two corpses. I spotted a piece of paper stapled to the side of a dark mahogany cupboard in the kitchen that was very much out of place. No one staples notes to expensive woodwork, not unless they want the note found.
“Jim, come look at this,” I said quietly.
“Hmmm,” he said, reading the note contemplatively, with his hands resting gently on my shoulders as he stood behind me. “Pretty much the way it went down, Allex. She was an invalid and he was sick with the flu. I say we look through the house quickly and leave these folks in peace.” Jim picked the revolver up from the floor where it had fallen, and spun the chamber. “The gun is empty. I guess he knew he would need only two rounds.” He set the gun on the island, below the note.
After the eight houses we had scoured today, we had a working rhythm. We started at the top and worked our way down. This house produced nothing we could use and we locked the door behind us, taking the empty gun.
“Only two houses to go and we can call it quits for the night,” I said as we made our way up the street to the next McMansion. “I’m exhausted, and a little emotionally drained.”
“I understand, Allex. If you would rather wait here, I can go through these next two on my own,” Jim offered.
“No, as you said before, we shouldn’t be separated. I’ll be okay,” I murmured, trudging along.
Thankfully, there were no more bodies for us to discover. To speed things along, after clearing the upstairs rooms, Jim and I each took a room looking for guns, then the same for downstairs. Our biggest finds were always in the kitchens or the finished basements, usually in the way of canned goods and liquor. The liquor we left behind, with me making a note what was in each house, the canned food we took with us. We were done and headed back to what we were referring to as home.
Jim had locked the garage door when we left, so we approached the front door to let ourselves in again and found the door ajar. Jim stopped, motioning me to stay back as he pulled his gun. I drew mine, too, and followed him anyway.
There was an elderly man standing in the living room, looking out into the backyard. His dirty clothes were too large for him and I could smell him from ten feet away. “Oh there you are, Linda! I was wondering where you were. Say, you cut your hair, I think I like it better long,” he said, when he saw me.
Linda? That was the name of the lady of the house. He must be confusing me with her. “Hi,” I said quietly. Jim and I cautiously stepped closer. The old man didn’t appear to be threatening, just confused.
“Rich, when did you get so gray?” the old man said, cocking his head to the side. “I see you brought work home. That will send you to an early grave for sure!” he said, waving a shaky, liver-spotted hand toward the briefcase that was still on the floor. “Where are those grandkids of mine? I haven’t seen them since you put me in that home.” He frowned and seemed lost in thoughts again.
Ah ha! This must be Linda’s father, and ill with dementia or Alzheimer’s.
“Ah, the kids are… having a playdate with some school friends… Dad,” I ventured, giving Jim a quick look. “What are you doing here? Won’t the center be worried when they find you missing?”
“They ignore me all the time, Linda. I don’t like it there. When I couldn’t find anyone to get my dinner today I walked out! That will teach them,” the old guy said angrily, looking away. When he turned back to us, he was all happy again. “Say, Rich, can you get me one of those fancy beers you keep downstairs? I’m thirsty and tired..” He lowered himself into one of the plush chairs facing the fireplace and closed his eyes.
“Sure thing, give me a hand, Linda,” Jim said, taking me by the arm.
“What the hell is going on, Allex?” he asked once we were downstairs. “That old man thinks you’re Linda and I’m Richard? Is he crazy?” Jim went behind the bar and opened the refrigerator. He selected one of the more exotic beers and opened it.
“I think he’s got dementia and that’s why he was put into a home, Jim. I’m not sure what we’re going to do about this. I mean this is his daughter’s house!”
“Maybe he’ll get confused again and walk out,” Jim sighed and we went back upstairs.
“Here’s your beer… Dad,” I said, extending the bottle to the old man. He didn’t move. I touched his shoulder, thinking he’d fallen asleep. He still didn’t move. I backed up. “Jim… I think he’s dead. Would you get my medical bag from the Hummer?” I stood there, looking at how peaceful the old guy looked.
Jim handed me the brass studded black leather purse that I had converted to a medical bag a few years ago, the one Mark had used until he died. I removed the stethoscope and listened for a heartbeat. Nothing. I stepped back again and put the stethoscope away.
“At least he died content, thinking he was back with his family,” I said.
“Let’s move him upstairs so he really can be with his family,” Jim said softly.
I got another sheet from the closet. We wrapped him in a blue floral shroud, then carried him up the stairs and laid him at the foot of the crowded bed.
We finished putting most of our finds away in the basement, with the exception of the canned foods and a few bottles of wine. It was now eight o’clock, and in spite of the shock of the old man waiting for us, and then dying, I was hungry. I took a jar of pasta sauce from the basement pantry and another can of flaked chicken.
Once again, we sat on the floor in front of a fire. Dinner was spaghetti and more wine. We finished off the first loaf of bread mopping up the sauce.
April 9
After breakfast I emptied the dishwasher and put everything back like it was. The few remaining canned goods went into our box of food along with an assorted case of wine from the upstairs cache and the basement. I left my notes of what was where in this ritzy neighborhood under the silverware tray so I wouldn’t lose it.
It was time to get back on the road.
CHAPTER 5
Jim steered around yet another chunk of asphalt that was jutting up and in our way. “This road is a mess, Allex. We’ve made only five miles in the past hour and we need to put more distance behind us. Do you know another route or do we go off-road?”
“I say it’s time for me to see your true driving skills,” I teased. “There are a few places the shoulders dip away and deep for rain runoff, otherwise I don’t think there is anyone around to complain about you driving over their lawns. Just don’t break the wine bottles.”
“Do you think there are many houses like the one we just left?” he asked, running down a plastic pink flamingo lawn ornament.
“Seriously? No, I don’t. Tom said people were leaving every day, and I doubt they would leave behind that much food.” We had found a second pantry in the basement, filled with canned goods and more gourmet foods. “That house was off the beaten path and well hidden even from within that subdivision. Anna had said there was so little food left before the evacuation that she only managed to get a few cans from all the houses surrounding where she was. So, no, that house we found was a rare treasure trove. Maybe the Iversons were planning on riding out the disasters by hunkering down and then got sick. I hope the house is still secure when we return.”
“Any idea how much furth
er to Sawyer?” Jim asked. “I’m not that familiar with this route and things look different to me.”
“It’s maybe another ten miles, if we don’t run into any blockages.”
*
We pulled up to the security gate at Sawyer Air Force Base and an armed guard stepped out of the new shack. Jim rolled down the window.
“ID, please,” the young man said. Jim pulled his ID from the visor and handed it over.
The guard saluted, and said, “Welcome back to Sawyer, Colonel Andrews!” He looked into the Hummer at me. “I’m sorry, sir, orders are no more civilians are allowed on base.”
Jim’s gaze became very stony. “Lieutenant Smeth is not a civilian, Sergeant. What she is is out of uniform, and we’re here in part to rectify that.”
Me a lieutenant? I wish Jim had warned me, though I could play along if I had to.
The sergeant went silent for a moment. “My orders—”
“Do your orders include questioning a senior officer? Open this gate, Sergeant,” Jim snapped testily.
“Yes sir!” The gate lifted.
Once Jim had parked the Humvee, he turned to me and said, “I’m sorry about that, Allex. I’ve been wondering if we were going to meet some resistance, now I know. As far as we are concerned, you’re now a first lieutenant, under my command. I had to rank you over that guard, and over ninety percent of the soldiers here for your own protection. How familiar are you with ranks in the military?”
“Not very.”
“Okay. Basically, a captain, a major, a general and a colonel outrank you. It sounds like a lot, however there aren’t that many high ranking officers here. They have to salute me, so if I salute back, you salute them, okay? I’ll try to mention their rank at this time. And if in doubt about what to call someone, Sir or Ma’am will suffice. First thing on the agenda is to get you some military duds,” Jim said as he started to get out. “Oh, lose the shoulder holster, Allex. Military doesn’t wear them. I have an extra Beretta that will fit on your belt.”
The Journal: Raging Tide: (The Journal Book 4) Page 4
