by L. L. Akers
Before anyone could answer she squeezed the trigger.
Time stood still as the bullet ripped through the air, silencing everyone and everything as it cut through flesh and bone, sending a spray of crimson out the backside of the beautiful, dark hair.
28
Graysie
Graysie slapped at the air in front of her. After piling into yet another heap of hay in yet another empty barn stall, and gorging on a bag of GORP, washed down with a bottle of water, she’d meant to close her eyes for just a moment.
But she’d fallen asleep—again.
The night before, after the excitement of her escape from the university and the ensuing car wreck had finally caught up with her, her adrenaline had fizzled out, replaced with exhaustion. She’d drifted off on her side with one arm draped through her backpack and her gun still stuck in the waistband of the back of her pants. She’d slept for hours, and got up and walked for hours more, lost in the dark. Turned out the country roads and barns all looked the same at night. She hadn’t been anywhere near her dad’s house.
When the sun finally showed its face this morning, she’d sat down with her map and tried to figure out where she was. It was hopeless. It all looked like squiggly lines to her and some asshat had taken down all the street signs—if there’d ever been any.
Midday, she’d stumbled onto another empty barn and laid down for a quick nap. She’d overslept… and now the bugs wouldn’t leave her alone, buzzing around her face and ears.
She waved her hand in front of her nose again and pulled herself up into a sitting position, not remembering where she was for a moment.
She opened her eyes.
Moonlight shone through the spaces where boards were missing from the barn—how did it get to be night again? She’d slept that long?
She pushed herself up and screamed.
Squatted beside her, a man stared at her with buggy eyes that darted all around. Nearly buried within a baggy, stained sweatshirt, with shaggy hair and a scabbed up skeletal face, he leered at her with a crooked smile of gaping holes and rotten teeth. He reached for her bag, his arm covered in a network of collapsed veins and scabs.
His hands shook violently. “Hey, ‘lil red riding hood. You got anything to us get geared up?”
His breath was deadly. She cringed. “Geared up? No! You can’t have my stuff.” Graysie grabbed her bag and scooted back, and jumped to her feet. She felt for her gun. It was still in the back of her pants, surprisingly.
He scrambled unsteadily to his feet, too, startled by her scream.
He held his hands up, palms out, on too-skinny arms. “Yo, sorry. No, I don’t want your gear. Look, I didn’t mean to scare you. I just…need to go fast, ya know? Get scattered, man.”
“No! Get away from me.” Graysie stared at his once-youthful, but now prematurely-gaunt face with disgust and quickly looked around the barn as she hooked her arms into her backpack and slid it into place onto her shoulders. She was cornered in the stall. Her only escape was to crawl over the side, but with the heavy backpack, he’d be on her in a second.
His face changed, becoming angry. He lunged at Graysie with his scab-covered arms, grabbing a handful of her curly red hair. “I know you’ve got someth—”
She could hear her father’s words whispering in her ear dozens of times as he’d wrestled with her, or pushed her around in horse-play… fight like a man, Graysie. Don’t let me win…
She stepped into his lunge and grabbed his wrist. His eyes widened in a stunned daze as she slammed the palm of her other hand into his elbow, bending it the wrong way. She felt a snap. He stumbled away, with an ear-piercing shriek and clutched his arm. She prayed it was broken as she turned and raced out of the barn, without looking back at the screaming demon behind her.
29
The Ladies
Hours later, Olivia tossed a flower—provided by Edith—onto the mound of dirt and sank to her knees once again. She covered her face, hiding the dirt and tears, as she rocked back and forth and sobbed. She wept with a force that nearly choked her.
Emma stood between Elmer and Edith, looking small beneath Edith’s arm around her slim shoulders that shook with grief. She did her best to be strong, but watching her sister cry broke her. She couldn’t hold it back; she bawled too, and Elmer quietly patted her back. The old couple sang Amazing Grace quietly, barely in a whisper as they too swiped tears from their faces.
“Well, that’s that, then,” Elmer said gruffly, once they ended their song. “Get up, Olivia. I’m taking you and your sisters home.” He walked away toward his barn while Olivia and Emma turned to watch him in confusion.
They hurried after him, stepping into the barn just behind him to find Gabby stacking hay bales onto a wagon that was attached to a John Deere tractor. The hay was stacked high into the air in a perfect square. She bent and grabbed a pile of old quilts and moved to the end of the wagon, stepping up and disappearing.
Olivia sniffed and wiped her nose on her balled-up Kleenex. “What are you doing, Gabby?”
Gabby didn’t answer. She was still mad as fire at Mei. Mad that she couldn’t stop her. Mad that they’d found out too late the pain she was in and the loss of her daughter she’d been going through. Mad that their country didn’t realize their own doctors had started an epidemic of drug addiction before it was too late. She hated drugs. In her darkest days many years ago, she too had nearly given up and lost her life to a handful of prescription drugs.
She fought back her own grief with wrath as she angrily swung one bale after another to the top row, nearly finishing it off.
“She’s building you a fort,” Elmer answered for her. “I figure you girls are only about an hour from home, the way the crow flies. May as well take you home myself and make sure you all get there.” He dropped his head and stared at his boots. “I don’t want any more blood on my hands.”
Olivia put an arm around the old man and squeezed. She looked up at him. “It wasn’t your fault, Elmer. It wasn’t even your gun.”
“Well, I’m taking you anyway,” he grumbled. He gently shook off her one-armed hug and made himself busy checking to be sure the trailer was securely attached to the tractor. Then he grabbed the heavy gas containers that were stacked against the wall and grunting with exertion, he handed them up to Gabby one at a time, and she dragged them inside their hay-fort.
He stood back and nodded his head. “Good job, Gabby. Now y’all girls go say your goodbyes to the missus. We leave in five minutes.”
Emma scratched her head. “If you have gas, why not just drive us in your truck?”
“I don’t have gas. The tractor runs on diesel. I have that. Besides, this tractor can push pert’near anything out of the way. We don’t know if the roads are clear between here and there, and even if we did have gas, we don’t know that my old truck would make it anyway. I don’t trust it like I do my tractor,” he muttered, and walked away, patting the tractor on the hood affectionately as he walked by it.
Gabby, Olivia and Emma ran into the house, gathered their things, and stood still while Edith fussed over them, handing them each a brown bag packed with food and two gallons of sweet tea. She sniffled and wiped at her nose with a fancy handkerchief while she gave them teary goodbyes.
Outside the window, they watched as Elmer pulled the tractor out of the barn and into the backyard. They stepped outside, and Elmer jumped down. He stood still and leaned over for a peck on the cheek from his wife, promised her he’d be safely home tomorrow and stoically climbed up into the seat without another word.
One more hug from Edith, and they climbed up into the hay, Gabby last. She stacked three bales in the space they’d clambered through and yelled giddy-up to Elmer, before dropping down between her sisters and putting her arms around them. Gabby looked at her sister’s hands and then her own. They all matched, covered in dirt and dotted with blisters from the rough handles of the shovels.
They all huddled up and leaned in close, drawing strength
from each other to beat down the gruesome memory of Mei lying dead in a puddle of blood with her long black hair in a halo around her. And Mei laying in a hole in the ground with her arms crossed over her thin chest, the picture of the pig-tailed little girl tucked beneath them and a silly bandana tied around her head. And Mei’s face as it disappeared under a cascade of dirt, peaceful, and finally free from her suffering.
Each of them thought about what they’d been through on their girl-trip.
Worst vacation ever.
But finally, it was over, and soon they thought, they’d all be safe at last; away from all this madness.
—But they couldn’t be more wrong.
30
Grayson
Ozzie whined and scratched at the bedroom door. Grayson mumbled and fumbled out of the bed, finally giving up on sleep and giving in to him.
Damn it, it’s past midnight.
He’d be glad when Olivia was home to take care of them; he’d had no idea how exhausting it was to spend the day letting the dog out, then letting the dog in, then letting the dog out, then letting the dog in…
Guilt pinched his conscience as he realized he was making a fuss over nothing. The dog had needs. And he loved the hairy beast anyway. He’d kept Grayson sane while he’d been alone with his worry over his family. It wasn’t Ozzie’s fault that Grayson had never got around to putting in a doggy-door. That was going on his honey-do list as soon as the world righted itself. They’d all benefit from that. Besides, he couldn’t sleep worth a damn for the worry picking at his brain.
“Come on then, Oz.” He patted the dog on his way out the bedroom door.
Suddenly, he remembered Jake was there.
He could barely believe it. Finally, he and Ozzie weren’t alone anymore. He tried to push away the selfish thought that he’d rather have his brother there instead. Jake’s arrival had been dampened with the bad news he was carrying about Dusty and Rickey.
Shocking news.
News he wasn’t looking forward to telling Emma.
But at least Jake would be here to share that burden. Grayson was glad to see him. He was family too, even if not by blood. And he was damn handy to have around. Hopefully Jake was just the first to arrive, and soon he’d hold his wife and daughter again. Wherever the girls were sleeping tonight, he prayed they were all safe and comfortable and that come daybreak, they’d be coming down the driveway, right into his arms.
And hopefully their wives wouldn’t freak out over the fact there were half-naked women sleeping across the hall—wait, hopefully they weren’t half-naked. He needed to get his mind right…
Grayson stumbled through the dark house as quietly as he could and opened the front door, stepping out onto the porch. Ozzie ran down the steps to do his business while Grayson stepped up to the side railing and did the same, yawning and stretching while he watered the flowers—thinking that was the only thing he could appreciate about Olivia being gone; he could pee outside without her nagging at him.
She didn’t understand that he was also marking his territory, just like Ozzie. Some animals would shy away from human urine, so she was keeping him from doing his duty as man of the house when she insisted he use the bathroom. He could hear her now… ‘Grayson, I can’t believe you walked right past two toilets just to pee outside! You’re going to kill my flowers!’
He looked up at the moon and howled quietly while he peed.
Then, he gave it a shake and chuckled. She’ll never know.
“—Hi, Mr. Gray Man,” a voice rang out of the darkness like a shot.
“Son of a gun, Puck!” Grayson jumped and nearly fell off the porch trying to pull his pants up and turn away from Puck—who was up in a tree—at the same time.
Puck shimmied down the tree, fast as a monkey, and dropped into a crouch to rub Ozzie.
Grayson took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “You startled me, boy. Don’t you know it ain’t polite to sneak up on a man at the butt crack of midnight?”
Puck giggled. “You said butt-crack.”
Grayson ran his hands through his hair, and a muscle jumped in his jaw, reminding his tooth to scream in pain. “What are you doing up there?”
The smile disappeared from Puck’s face. “I came to see Ozzie. Are you mad?”
Ozzie ran to the porch and grabbed his ball and came back, sliding in and dropping it at Puck’s feet, slobberingly delirious to see the kid. Puck snatched it up, apparently forgetting he was in the middle of a conversation. Grayson noticed he was limping as he ran away with the dog in pursuit.
He looked at the dark sky and gave a silent prayer; a plea for patience to deal with Puck without losing his temper and scaring the kid again, and then he muttered in an exaggeratedly-polite tone to himself—practicing, “Why yes, Puck, I am annoyed. I don’t especially like to show off my pecker to just anyone, you see. I’d much rather have dinner and a movie first, if I had my rather.”
The screen door slamming on his way back into the house punctuated his sarcasm the way his quiet voice couldn’t. Now that Ozzie had woken him, and Puck was here, it was going to be awhile before he could go back to sleep. He’d just lay awake and worry about Olivia and Graysie if he tried. May as well sit up a spell.
Time for coffee.
Twenty minutes later Grayson sat beside his brother-in-law, Jake, on the porch, sipping on a cup of java. He gave silent thanks for the Coleman camp stove and his percolator. At least some things were still quick and easy, and he had plenty of fuel for it.
The smell of coffee—with a side of worry and a slam of the screen door—had dragged Jake out of bed too. He said he wasn’t able to sleep anyway. Grayson was sure the same thoughts were keeping them both up.
When Jake had arrived earlier, with two women in tow, Grayson had wanted to punch him in the face and hug him at the same time.
After a brief shouting match about where he’d been and who’d been responsible for letting the gas go bad—and it damn well was Jake’s fault—they’d stumbled together for a very non-manly hug crowned with damp eyes.
Now they sat in near-silence, other than the crickets and cicadas, and Grayson wanted to fill it with words—words with a grown-up. Finally. Not a full-grown kid or a dog.
He really wanted to hash out the what-if’s about the women and Graysie again, but he knew he and Jake would come to the same conclusion. There were at least a half dozen ways to get to and from the beach. The chance they’d find the girls on the road was slim to none, and they didn’t have enough gas to try all the different routes; not even close.
He couldn’t help still being a bit angry with Jake about the gas he’d let go bad.
Better to talk about something else.
He searched his thoughts for something—anything. But with no news, no visitors other than Puck, and no way to watch TV, he had nothing. His only thoughts were on their family or the event that turned out the lights, and what it might be.
Or Trump.
He could talk about the mysteries of Trump all day. After reluctantly voting for the outrageously non-political Trump, just to do his part to keep Hillary out of office, he was shocked to actually see the man keeping his promises and getting things done. If people could look past his unpolished rhetoric, immature tweets and personal attacks on his own staff and the media, he was surprisingly doing a good job. If he continued to keep his campaign promises, could he really make America better—against all odds?
Grayson could argue the fact that welfare hand-outs were down, illegal immigration was down. Jobs were up. The country was a trillion dollars richer in the first year of his presidency. But with no social media, who was left to argue with?
Not Jake.
Good ole salt-of-the-earth Jake would maintain a neutral status on anything and everything to avoid conflict.
In black and white, good things were happening with the country. Numbers didn’t lie. If only Trump would stop setting twitter-fires and picking fights so that the rest of America could see it.
But the way things were going, they couldn’t see past the fire, much of it flamed by the mainstream media.
However, with the lights going out, all of it might have been for naught. Who knew who had done this? How would they ever find out with communications down?
“So, Jake, what do you really think happened? What’s going on? Who did this? Russia? Maybe for North Korea? Or China… they’ve always been a big helpful brother to the Norks.”
Jake shrugged. “Still don’t know, man.”
Grayson eyeballed Jake.
He knew full well Jake didn’t like to talk politics. When it came to choosing sides, Jake was Switzerland. He’d need to be careful where the conversation went. “So, you don’t think this has anything to do with Trump pissing in Kim’s Cheerios?”
Jake shrugged again.
Okay, North Korea is off limits. Unless maybe I soften him up with a joke first. “So, if this all ends up being some pissing contest between us and North Korea—and other adversaries took their side, things could get really bad.” He gave Jake a very serious look.
Jake nodded.
“No, seriously, man. Just imagine Trump and Kim together. Do you know what you get when you cross a penis and a potato?”
Jake smirked. Finally showing some life. “What?”
“A dicktator!” Grayson laughed loudly at his own joke and Jake spared him a chuckle, but then laughed louder at Grayson’s unusual silliness and his willingness to poke fun at Trump, seeing as Grayson had coaxed the whole family into voting for the man—in solidarity against what happened at Benghazi with the other candidate. They’d cast their votes against her in support of the military, and law enforcement, too, which she’d had no respect for during her campaign.
Trump, on the other hand, supported the military and the boys in blue.
“Wait!” Grayson said. “You know what led to this? Everyone in America is suddenly offended about everything. When the parties became too divisive, we started making mistakes. We shouldn’t even call this a nation anymore. You know what you call a country where everyone is pissed off?”
