Murder-suicides were a good thing, he finally decided.
For if he heard the shots before anyone else, and was able to be the first to the scene, he’d get the spoils.
The weapon, the ammunition, as well as any food and water and precious metals the house contained.
After awhile he rather liked it when people gave up and killed themselves.
Chapter 7
Just the day before Monica concluded she didn’t have long to live.
Moreover, she couldn’t trust Ronald with the children after she was gone.
The solution, she reasoned, was to do what many of their neighbors were doing and just end it all in an orderly fashion.
If they did it right it would be quick and painless.
Monica wasn’t a Christian woman. In her view, she was one of God’s forgotten people. Her life was filled with too much misery for her to think God cared for or about her.
Ronald was a religious man in his early years. When they met some ten years before he went to church every Sunday. He not only owned a Bible, he read it every day.
Back in those days he was a good man. Monica was proud of him. He was good to her and treated her right.
Early on he was a good father too.
He even changed diapers and helped rock the babies to sleep, which amazed Monica’s friends.
Most of the fathers of her friends’ children weren’t even around anymore. And for Ronald to change diapers and help around the house too?
Monica’s best friend said, “Girl, that man’s a keeper. You need to marry him.”
She did, finally, when Amy was two and Robert was one.
They led a blissful life for awhile, until Ronald got popped for possession with intent to deliver three grams of heroin.
He never told her what happened while he was in prison.
But whatever it was changed him.
He went in a good man.
He came out mean.
Very mean.
When he made a comment he’d be better off putting a gun to his head it bolstered Monica’s decision.
She’d planned to wait until he was in a good mood, which these days only happened when he scored a good pile of loot from one of his shooting victims.
Then it dawned on her she might not have that much time before her heart gave out.
She resolved to talk to him when he came home that night whether he scored or not.
Had he come home that night dragging a new weapon and ammo to trade for provisions it would have been a lot easier. He’d have been in a decent mood and wouldn’t have gotten so angry.
But she resolved to talk to him nevertheless.
She’d rehearsed the conversation over and over in her mind.
“Baby, let’s get out of this life. It hurts too much and it’s just not worth the trouble anymore.
“You know the Bible much better than me, Ronald. You decide which passages to use. You know, the verses you can read over us to make sure we all get to heaven.
“You can ask God to forgive us all.
“I can crush up that bottle of sleeping pills in the medicine chest. We can mix it with some juice and let the kids drink it.
“After they’re asleep you can shoot them in the head. You’re strong enough to do that. You know I can’t, baby.
“That way they won’t know it’s coming. They won’t get scared and cry. They’ll just drift off to sleep and you can make sure they never wake up.
“Then you and I can pray together one last time and you can shoot me too.
“I’ll hold your hand when you shoot me, Ronald. Then you can shoot yourself too. That way we’ll always be together.
“Let’s just do it, Ronald.
“Let’s just check out and let everybody else go on living in this hell.”
She had it planned out, and then Ronald came home with the announcement they were moving.
That he’d finally scored big.
All his big talk finally paid off; he’d finally come through for them.
Her plans were on hold now.
She wouldn’t bring up the subject of suicide.
Maybe their luck was changing.
Maybe Ronald was right after all.
Maybe all she needed was to flush her system with clean water for a few days.
Maybe all it would take for her to recover would be for her to clean out whatever bad things were infecting her body.
Maybe Ronald could make a comeback. Maybe he could be her hero again after all.
In the front room Ronald was working as fast as he could.
He checked the street as he took the heavy replacement window and leaned it against the shattered window’s frame.
There was no one about.
The oak tree provided decent cover for the front of the house, but anyone walking down the street would still notice the shattered window.
He had to work now, before people started leaving their homes and searching for food and water.
If he was quick enough he could replace the broken glass before anyone happened along. Then he and his family could live there and continue the ruse Dave had built.
And the neighborhood’s other residents would continue to believe the house was empty.
He worked fast, using a putty knife to scrape tiny pieces of glass and old putty from the window frame.
Once it was clean he carefully put the new window in place, then used the bathroom caulk to hold it.
It wasn’t the proper way to do the job, but in the absence of real window putty it would work.
Once done he stepped back to admire his work.
Then he picked up the large pieces of broken glass, placed them in the bathtub of an adjoining bathroom and exited the room.
Once he was back in the occupied part of the house he closed the door behind him and breathed a sigh of relief.
Now he could finally relax like a king.
In Dave’s castle.
Chapter 8
Several days passed without incident.
Ronald’s family made themselves at home in a house which didn’t belong to them, but which contained everything they needed to live comfortably.
Conversely, in the buried bunker outside of Ely, nobody was comfortable.
Lindsey and Kara continued to wait for the best time to escape their tormentors.
And on their way to the rescue Dave, Sal and Beth finally made it to the Oklahoma border.
As they rolled the rig over the Red River Sal peeked over the side of the bridge and commented, “It’s not much of a river, is it?”
Dave looked as well.
Sure enough, the river which snaked under the massive bridge was no more than twenty feet wide, and no more than ten feet deep at its center.
“Don’t be mistaken into thinking it’s always like this,” Dave said. “When I came through here in the spring it was raging. The spring thaw was in full gear, and the Red was half a mile wide. I thought I was going to have to jump off the bridge into it, and it scared the heck out of me.”
“Why would you have to jump off the bridge?”
“I heard rumors from some of the highway nomads the national guardsmen from each state were sealing their borders.
“No one ever said why. They guessed it was to keep the people from other states from coming in and taking what little resources each state had.
“When I was back there, a mile or so from the bridge, I parked my Explorer and waited until sunrise. Then I carried a backpack onto the bridge and pretended to be afoot.
“If I’d been challenged I was going to say I was merely another nomad, making my way into Oklahoma in search of relatives.
“If they’d declared martial law and border crossing was illegal there was a slight chance they’d have tried to arrest me.
“If that happened I was prepared to throw down my pack and jump over the side of the bridge and into the river below.”
“That’s rather dangerous, isn’t it?”
“Very. The river was deep enough to dive into then so the fall wouldn’t have hurt me. But it was filled with debris that had washed into it. Tree branches, construction debris, all kinds of stuff.
“That would have been my biggest threat… making it safely into the water and then getting cut to pieces by a piece of metal or knocked cold by a tree branch.”
“How would you have gotten your Explorer over the bridge?”
“I wouldn’t have. I’d have floated upriver and gotten out on the Oklahoma side. Then I’d have abandoned the Explorer and made my way to Kansas on foot.
“It would have slowed me down tremendously, and I’d still be on my way west looking for Beth.
“Luckily it was just a rumor.
“To my knowledge they never tried to seal the borders. I never had to jump. There was no one blocking the roadway and I was able to drive into Oklahoma.”
Beth called from the cab of the pickup, “How much farther to Oklahoma City, Dad?”
“Probably two days, honey.”
“Are we gonna stop today so I can shoot? You promised me.”
He did indeed promise her a shooting lesson.
“Yes ma’am. The sun will start getting hot in another hour or so and we’ll find a shady place to stop and make camp.
“I’ll let you shoot a few rounds before we crash for the day. Fair enough?”
“Okay, deal.”
Beth had been anxious to learn how to fire a hand gun.
She’d done it a few times and had gotten the fundamentals down.
Now she was working on her aim.
It was important to Beth she start “carrying her weight.”
Where she got the idea she needed to was a puzzle to Dave.
In his mind she had no “weight” to carry.
“She’s eight years old, for crying out loud,” he’d confided to Sal one day while Beth was sleeping.
“And she weighs what? Maybe fifty pounds?”
Sal was sympathetic, but agreed with Beth.
“I’d say probably closer to seventy. But her physical weight has nothing to do with it.
“She’s growing up before her time. The situation has changed us all. Some good ways and some bad. She’s mature enough to realize that we live in a more dangerous world than we used to.
“And she’s smart enough to know that handling a weapon, knowing how to shoot to get food and to defend oneself, is no longer an option in the new world. It’s now a necessity.
“Those who cannot use a gun, like it or not, are at a severe disadvantage and in great danger.
“Plus, she wants to be able to contribute to the common good. If you and I are up against something we can’t handle, she wants to be able to help us out.
“At eight years of age that shows a lot of wisdom and courage on her part. You should be proud of her.”
“I am, I am. But I have to admit I have reservations.”
“How so?”
“Carrying a weapon puts a big target on her. A bad man might not have any problem shooting you and me. But most of them will let a child pass, thinking that child presents no danger to them.
“Give that child a gun, though, and that same bad man won’t have any qualms in shooting the child down.”
“Well that’s a valid point too…
“So what’s the solution?”
“The solution, my friend, is something Sarah and I could never agree on.
“But since Sarah’s not here at the moment, I plan to help her learn to shoot my pistol, but not to carry it. I want her to know how to use it and to be proficient at it, but not to place a target on herself by carrying it.
“As for the rifle, Beth is petite for her age. She doesn’t weigh much more than a loaded thirty round magazine, and the kick will send her flying.
“I’ll hold off on the rifle for a year or two until she’s got a few more pounds of muscle on her bones.
“Once she can handle the rifle I’ll teach her how to use a shotgun.”
“Sounds like you have it all planned out.”
“Yes, but…
“I reserve the right to let Sarah change my mind, like any other responsible hen-pecked husband.”
Chapter 9
Dave was big on keeping his promises.
He’d always believed a man was only as good as his word, and a man who broke a promise didn’t deserve the chance to make another.
For a father he believed that was especially true.
For a little girl’s trust must be earned continually. It can only be broken once.
He’d broken only one promise to little Beth in all her eight years.
That was the day he put her and her sister on the plane to Kansas City with their mother.
“I’ll miss you, Daddy,” she said.
“I’ll miss you too, honey. But time will fly by, and I’ll see you again in just a few days.”
“Do you promise?”
“Yes, Peanut. I promise.”
But fate had its own ideas and the power went out permanently.
It was several months before Dave finally set out to find his family and bring them home.
And his broken promise to Beth drove him hard every step of his journey.
He knew in his heart that Beth understood the delay.
And that she wouldn’t blame him.
But beyond all reason he blamed himself.
That single broken promise tormented him.
It made sure he never gave up.
And it made him apologize profusely to her when he finally found her in the high desert of California.
“Oh shucks, Dad. It wasn’t your fault.”
She let him off the hook that easily.
And now, several weeks since the two reconciled he still hated himself for breaking that promise.
And he’d make damned sure it never happened again.
Dave looked at the mid-morning sun and reckoned it to be close to ten a.m.
He pulled the rig off the highway and beneath a stand of oak and elm trees.
The shade was spotty, as the trees didn’t appear to be very healthy.
But he could see more than a mile ahead of them on the flat Oklahoma plains, and couldn’t see another stand any better.
And spotty shade was better than no shade at all.
“Hey Peanut, you still awake back there?”
Beth was lying on the pickup truck’s bench seat and trying her best not to nod off.
At her father’s call, though, she was wide awake.
“Yes, sir! Awake and ready!”
Sal said, “You two go ahead. I’ll unhitch the team and water and feed them. If you’re not back by the time I’m finished I’ll start gathering wood for a fire.”
“Are you sure, Sal? I can take care of the horses before I leave.”
“No, let her get her lesson in so she can get some sleep. I’ll be okay.”
Dave led Beth to a dry wash maybe two hundred yards from the highway.
“Daddy, why do they call it a wash if it has no water in it? How are you supposed to wash anything in it if it’s just dirt?”
“They don’t call it a wash because you wash things in it, silly girl.
“They call it a wash because this is the route flood waters take during the spring rains.
“It’s dry now, but if there was a heavy rainstorm the wash would be full of fast water, washing down to the Red River or to another river.
“Eventually the water will make its way to the Gulf of Mexico, but it’ll take it awhile to get there.”
She looked into a cloudless sky and said, “So why are we here?”
“Because most of this land is flatter than a pancake and bullets fly a very long way.
“We don’t want anybody to be hurt by one of your stray bullets, and in the wash we’re below ground level.
“The wall of the wash can stop your bullets as effectively as the backstop at a firing range.”
“How many bullets do I ge
t to shoot today?”
“I’ll make the same deal with you I made last time.
“You’ll shoot five times at each target.
“If you get at least one round in the red, I’ll replace the target and let you fire five more rounds. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
It was the same technique Dave’s father had used with him when he was a youngster and learning how to shoot.
And the same method he used to teach Lindsey how to shoot just before the blackout.
It was a very effective way to ensure the novice shooter focused on the basics on his or her first five shots.
If Beth got lazy and only half-tried, she likely wouldn’t hit the target in any of her first five tries.
If she focused on the fundamentals, though, and applied the lessons she’d already learned, chances were she’d be rewarded by being able to shoot five more rounds.
In a perfect world, of course, Dave would let her fire until her skinny little arms started to waver from the weight of the weapon.
But he had to make sure he didn’t waste any ammunition. For while it was important he pass his shooting skills onto his daughters, ammunition wasn’t being manufactured anymore.
In all likelihood it would be hard to come by in the years ahead.
Dave had never packed his own ammo. Other preppers made their own bullets but Dave never learned how.
Now he wished he had.
Beth fired her first five with Dave standing behind her, one of his own hands hovering on each side of the weapon in case she wavered.
She landed three of the five in the red circle.
“You’re a natural,” he told her. “And I must be an awesome instructor.”
She fired the second set of five shots and scored only one of five.
The gun was getting heavy.
That was okay. She was making progress.
And she was getting ready to learn a very valuable lesson.
Chapter 10
Beth was disappointed in her performance on the second go round.
Dave lavished praise on her anyway.
“Don’t be down on yourself, Peanut. You have spaghetti noodles for arms. Of course they’re gonna get tired. That gun is very heavy for you.”
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