by Chris Pike
Man, had he fooled everyone.
Inside, he was still the kid from the wrong side of the tracks that couldn’t get the girl he wanted. And though he could have had any woman he wanted—and many did want him—the only one he had pined for had left town.
If only Amanda could see him now and how successful he had become, she would have seen how foolish she had been. They could have had an innately satisfying relationship if it hadn’t been for her old-fashioned parents and their insistence she call it off with him or they wouldn’t fund her college education. It was him or college, and the books won out. Zack couldn’t let that happen.
Payback for her parents was a bitch. A wicked smile spread across his sharp features as he recalled sneaking over to their house and cutting the brake line on her dad’s car just in time for them to go out for an anniversary dinner. Zack had even followed them home from the restaurant so he could see his handiwork in action. He watched with sick curiosity when the car went out of control and left the highway, plowing down the hillside cedars. The icing on the cake happened when it flipped over and caught fire. The local news reports the next morning confirmed the two had died.
Zack even went to the funeral to offer his condolences, but that damned great aunt of Amanda’s told him to get lost. He smirked. Payback for her had been a bitch too.
Zack couldn’t understand why Amanda revered a college degree. Plenty of PhD types had walked into his shop not even knowing even where to find the battery in their car.
For such book-smart people, they were as dumb as posts and gullible when it came to the reasons for repairs. Zack had figured out the PhD types didn’t want to let on how inept they were when it came to car mechanics, so he talked in repair-speak so fast, peppering it with all sorts of confusing reasons the car needed work, the PhD types agreed to the repairs so as not to appear ignorant.
When it came time to pony up the money, Zack made sure to charge Clydesdale size hourly rates.
Regardless of how much he thought about business, his mind kept circling back to Amanda. The more Zack thought about Amanda, the angrier he became, and this boring shift made things worse.
He couldn’t quell his thoughts.
Amanda had skipped town to whereabouts unknown until a newspaper published an article about urban sprawl encroaching upon her great aunt’s ranch. The last paragraph contained vital information about a brother living in East Texas. A quick check by a private detective confirmed Amanda was staying at her grandfather’s ranch.
He had sent Kurt to East Texas to do his dirty work, then the EMP struck, and without communication he had no idea what had happened to his brother or to Amanda.
His plan appeared to be falling apart.
Zack thought about using his 1970 cherry red Chevy Malibu he had bought years ago for pennies on the dollar. But driving that to East Texas would for sure put a bulls-eye on his forehead. He had rebuilt the engine, painted it, replaced the tires and rims, and drove it like he was a big man on campus which, as of now, he was. And if he left Austin, no telling what would happen to his new empire.
Without a working financial system, cash had become useless, and the goods and services customers offered to trade for his service were laughable. He found it humorous regarding one desperate man who offered his teenage daughter. Zack was more disgusted by it than tempted, and had sent the man scurrying for cover when he pointed a rifle at him. The said rifle was the Barrett M107 which he was now the proud owner of. When he pressed the guy he bought it from where he got it, he said he had taken it from a deserted National Guard station. That rifle was worth the work he had to put into the guy’s car, and in the weeks following the EMP, Zack only took guns and ammo as payment for services. He realized the better armed he was, the better chance he’d have at building another empire.
He traded precision repairs for precision shots—both of which he excelled at.
Zack walked the west facing side of the observation desk and smirked at the throng of sheeple strolling mindlessly along the empty streets, unaware of their surroundings, making small talk and laughing.
Just for fun, Zack sighted an old man in the crosshairs, tracking him as he shuffled along the sidewalk, dragging his belongings behind him. When the man came too close to the boundary Zack had made around the university, he blasted a round near the old man. Seeing the man hop and do a little jig made the mundane shift worthwhile.
Zack was a wolf among sheep, and he wielded sharp shears in the way of the Barrett M107, and his unrestrained use of it.
Chapter 6
“What do you mean if it hadn’t been for Zack your parents would still be alive?”
Amanda set Nipper down on the floor and went to the doorway entering the kitchen. Disregarding what Chandler had said, she asked, “Is there anything in there to eat?” She didn’t expect to find anything—it was more out of habit and gave her some semblance of normalcy.
“Nope. Already checked.”
“I’m still hungry.”
“That’s a good sign. How about some of the caramelized pecans that you and Holly made?”
“That would be great. We made them with white sugar instead of brown sugar. They weren’t quite as good, but they’ll satisfy anyone’s sweet tooth.”
Chandler dug around in the bag containing the carefully rationed food. “Come sit back down.”
They had enough bread and jerky to last them several more days. The canned peaches were quickly being consumed, but they still had a good supply of pecans thanks to the crop that had matured right before they left. Sitting around the fireplace at night at Holly’s place cracking shells reminded Chandler of his own home and the good times they had doing the same thing.
“You haven’t answered my question,” Chandler said.
“I was hoping you’d forget.”
“I haven’t.”
With a rueful expression, Amanda said, “They died in a car crash about a month after I broke up with Zack. I can remember it like it was yesterday. I had finally won back the trust of my parents and they decided it was okay for me to stay home by myself. My parents forgave me without any strings attached. They said I had learned my lesson.”
“That’s the way most people learn.”
“I know. It was their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary and my mom and dad wanted to go eat at a fancy restaurant downtown. It was a weeknight, and since I had a test the next day, I couldn’t go with them. They were glad I was buckling down to bring up my grades so they didn’t press me to join them. Sometimes I wish I had been in the car with them.” Amanda looked away, swallowing a lump in her throat.
Chandler gently pinched his thumb and index finger on her chin, turning her head so she had to face him. “I’m glad you weren’t.”
Amanda nodded. “I had stayed up late studying and the time got away from me. Next thing I knew it was near midnight when I realized they weren’t home. I called my mom’s cell phone, but she didn’t answer, and neither did my dad. I was getting worried because they said they’d be back by ten. My dad liked to watch the ten o’clock news. He especially liked to watch the latest weather forecast even though he always complained about how wrong the forecast was.”
Amanda dropped her chin to her chest and the tears came easily.
Chandler wrapped his arms around her. “It’s okay. I’m here.”
“I’m…” she hiccupped, “…okay.”
Chandler patted her on her back and smoothed down her hair.
Amanda wriggled free from Chandler, sniffled, and swiped under both eyes. “Around one a.m. there was a knock at the door and there were two policemen standing there. They asked if anyone else was home, maybe an older sister or brother. I told them I didn’t have any brothers or sisters. I knew something had to be wrong and they didn’t want to tell me at first, but finally did. It was the worst night of my life.”
“I’m sorry to ask, but how’d they die?”
“A car crash. A single vehicle accident. They were on FM 2222,
it’s that winding steep road like the roads you see on car commercials.”
“I know it well,” Chandler said. “I’ve driven it many times. It’s a dangerous stretch of road on the cliffs above the Colorado River. What happened? Were your parents drunk?”
“The toxicology tests came back negative, no alcohol or drugs. The police said something must have happened to make my dad lose control of the car. It veered off the road and rolled over several times. Last time I drove that road, you could still see where the cedars were mowed down.”
“Maybe he swerved to miss a deer?”
“There were no skid marks.”
“I still don’t understand. What does it have to do with Zack?”
“The insurance investigation uncovered the fact the brake line had been cut.” After a beat Amanda asked, “And who would know how to do that?”
“Zack.”
“Exactly what I’ve been thinking,” Amanda said.
“He got away with murder?” Chandler asked.
“I think so.”
“Did the police do anything? Question him?”
“They did, but he had a rock solid alibi.”
“Let me guess,” Chandler said, “he was with a friend.”
Amanda paced the length of the table. “Yeah. One of the guys that used to hang out at his apartment.”
“Now I understand why you’re reluctant to go back to Austin.”
“That and the fact I’m not looking forward to staying with my great aunt. Her ranch isn’t that far from west Austin. Urban sprawl was encroaching close to her ranch, and by now it might be a strip mall for all I know.”
“When was the last time you saw her?” Chandler asked.
“My parents’ funeral. She’s like a stranger to me, and I don’t even know if she wants me.”
“Then why go?”
“My grandpa said to.”
Chandler thought about that last statement and what he knew about Amanda going to live with her grandpa after her parents died. She had been seventeen, a difficult age in anyone’s life being on the cusp of adulthood, yet not old enough to be on their own. Jack Hardy would have been the only family she had.
“Is there a bathroom in here?” Amanda asked.
“Yes, but I wouldn’t use it.”
“I can wait until the morning, but I still need to wash up before I go to bed. I smell like a horse.”
“It’s down the hallway,” Chandler said. “Take the lantern with you in case there are any visitors.”
Amanda gave him a questioning look.
“Creepy crawlers.”
Digging in her backpack, she found a small bar of soap wrapped in wax paper. She excused herself to what was left of the bathroom.
Debris littered the rusted tub and contained what appeared to be a mummified rat. Fur remnants lined a pointy jaw.
Amanda set the lantern on the back of the toilet and grimaced at the toilet contents, now black and crusty. Afraid to touch the lid, she balanced on one leg and used her other foot to close the lid. When it hit the seat, it made a loud thud. She quickly disrobed and set her clothes on the sink. Taking a rag she found in the bathroom cabinet, she spread it on the chipped tile to keep her bare feet off the grimy floor. She carefully unwrapped the soap from the wax paper wrapper, dribbled a small amount of water on her body, under her arms, and in other places the sun didn’t shine on, rubbed soap over her body, then splashed the remaining water over her back and chest, letting the water run down her legs and feet.
A chill captured her and she shivered from head to toe. Her hair was a greasy mess, but thankfully long enough to pull back in a ponytail. A good shampoo would have to wait.
* * *
During the night, Chandler lay awake listening to the blustery wind whipping the house, and to the crackling of smoldering embers shifting in the stove. He tossed and turned until finally he fell asleep. Sometime in the night he awakened to cold air filling the room. Shrugging out of the sleeping bag, he added another log to the wood-burning stove to ward off the ever-present winter chill.
He checked on Amanda sleeping snugly on the sofa with Nipper curled next to her, and for a moment he thought about the difference between her and his old girlfriend Crystal. Physically, they couldn’t be more different. Crystal was statuesque and the stuff of dreams, while Amanda was petite, but as she said, “Dynamite comes in small packages.” From the first time he saw her in the barn at her grandfather’s place, he sensed an immediate and reciprocal attraction, but after Crystal’s betrayal, it was hard for him to let his guard down. Nobody would do that to him again. Ever.
He pulled the sleeping bag up to his chin and after a bit, his eyelids got heavy. He drifted in and out of restless sleep. Regardless how hard he tried to forget Crystal, his thoughts kept drifting to her and the betrayal he couldn’t forget.
* * *
Chandler woke in the morning with fuzzy thoughts about a dream he had about Crystal, and for some reason his anger toward her wasn’t as raw as it had been. For a long time, he had buried it deep down where the hurt wasn’t visible. He had thought his life would have been with Crystal, and at first he wished he had never walked in on her and his best friend. In hindsight, it was the best thing that could have happened, otherwise, he would have never met Amanda.
Chapter 7
When morning came, the wood-burning stove only had coals left in it, and since Chandler wasn’t willing to waste time to boil water for hot tea, he and Amanda ate a cold and meager breakfast consisting of wild hog jerky, bread, and a granola bar, washed down with bottled water. Plastic water bottles had been refilled using water from the well at Holly Hudson’s place. It had a different taste than city water. The best Chandler could describe it was having an earthy aftertaste. He was careful not to shake it, nor stir it, although a pinch of dry vermouth probably would have improved the taste, and might have even passed a James Bond martini test.
He rolled their sleeping bags as tight as he could get them, tied them off, and took them out to the shed.
Cowboy and Indian had spent the night in the old shed with a rusty corrugated metal roof, yet the horses didn’t look any worse for wear. The shed had acted as a wind break from the chilly night.
Fortunately, the load the horses carried was becoming lighter as they consumed water and food. Amanda wasn’t much of a load for Cowboy to carry when they rode double, perhaps a hundred and five lean pounds, although a lot of that was sass. For a small person, she sure did have a mouth on her, and a loud voice.
While Chandler readied the horses, Amanda gathered up their belongings in the house, packed the cooking utensils, closed the door, and left.
Chandler saddled Cowboy and Indian and checked to make sure everything had been cinched tight. Taking the reins, he walked the horses into the yard.
The morning sun awakened the wintry land with its warm rays stretching through the bare trees. A mockingbird’s melody filled the crisp air and a flock of cedar waxwings descended onto a large, thorny pyracantha bush to dine on red berries.
“Looks like the cold front pushed through,” Chandler said. He squinted, checking the crystalline blue sky. Canada geese were high overhead, flying effortlessly, their muted honks drifting downward. He stood facing the east sun, soaking up the welcome warmth. “If the weather stays like this, we should be in Austin ahead of schedule.”
“I can’t wait,” Amanda said.
She was weary of the ride, being dirty, and smelling like a horse. A proper bath with hot running water was a luxury of the past. The brief bath last night hadn’t been much of a substitute. She was thankful Holly had packed two hotel sized bars of soap she had found in an empty suitcase at her ranch home. Holly told Amanda her parents must have swiped them from a hotel, tossed them in a bag, and forgotten about them. An oversight at the time, and if the soap had been found any other time, they would have been thrown out without a thought. Now it was an item worth more than a bar of gold.
Nipper had been obs
erving Chandler and Amanda as they went about the business of packing, a clear signal he was in store for yet another long, uncomfortable ride in the makeshift side kennel.
At the sound of Amanda’s high pitched whistle, Nipper pivoted to his mistress, waited for another whistle, then darted down the porch steps and ran around the yard until he found a stick. Taking it to her, he held it tight and waited for the game of tug-of-war.
“We don’t have time to play,” Amanda said.
Nipper, a keen observer of human body language and voice intonation, immediately recognized the deflated expression on Amanda’s face.
“Come,” she ordered.
Flagrantly disobeying Amanda’s instructions, Nipper didn’t budge. When Amanda made a quick movement toward him he bolted to a safe spot just out of her reach. Standing in the overgrown yard, his tongue hanging out, he wagged his tail and cocked his head, looking at her with soulful eyes.
“Nipper, come,” Amanda ordered. Her raised voice indicated stress and annoyance. “We’re not playing. It’s time to go.”
While Nipper didn’t understand the exact words, he did understand her tone and the fact he should obey, but he was tired of being cooped up and wanted to play. It had been a while since he had brought Amanda the spoils of his hunting. A stick would have to do for now.
A brief flash of Holly’s ranch house came to Nipper and he couldn’t understand why they had left the comfort of a house and the camaraderie evident among the occupants, along with the other dog known as Buster. Nipper and Buster had finally accepted each other and had become playmates.
Amanda inched toward Nipper and when she bent down to scoop him up, he darted away. It was a game he had played many times before with his mistress who normally acquiesced to his playfulness.
“I’m not playing. We have to go.” Amanda’s tone was stern.
