Chuck nodded. “Yeah. I know how the saying goes, ‘happy wife, happy life’ and all that. I learned that long ago. Lord knows, I gotta go above and beyond on a daily basis just to keep Sheila happy.”
Finishing the transaction, Adam handed the signed receipt back to Chuck and took his card, placing it in his wallet. “Glad to know you’ve got it all figured out. How many times have you been married, Chuck?”
Chuck huffed, pressing his lips together. “Sheila is wife number six for me. Very kind of you to ask.”
Adam nodded and smiled coyly. He shook Chuck’s hand, bid him farewell, and walked excitedly out the door to the parking lot, new prizes in his grasp. When he opened the rear door on his Jeep, a familiar set of chestnut brown eyes stared back crossly at him.
“More toys?” his wife, Elisabeth, asked, her body half-turned in the passenger seat.
Adam only nodded.
“You took forever in there. I was about to come in and tell you to hurry the heck up, but gun stores make me so nervous.”
“I know they do, Liz.”
“You know we have to pick up the girls by three thirty.”
“I know that, too.”
“Okay, that’s good. Sorry…not trying to be a pest. I know how much you hate it when I nag.” She paused. “So how much was it?”
Adam let out a sigh and climbed into the driver’s seat, instinctively reaching for the keys, only to realize he’d left the engine running to keep the heat on for his wife. “If I tell you, will you promise not to divorce me?”
“I suppose.”
“Can I get that in writing?”
“Nope.”
Adam chuckled. “Then I’m not going to tell you.”
Elisabeth punched him playfully in the shoulder and then snapped her seatbelt on while Adam piloted their Jeep from the parking lot and onto Valley Avenue.
“Another gun to play with,” Elisabeth chided nearly under her breath. “You only have two hands. I’ll never understand why you feel you need so many guns.”
Adam ignored the remark.
Elisabeth continued snidely. “I suppose it’s…okay, in a way. And it doesn’t bother me, so long as you’re spending your money on it and it’s not money we need for bills or groceries or things the kids need. All men, yourself included, need hobbies and…toys to play with. It’s just one more to add to your toybox.”
Adam glanced over at his wife in time to see her roll her eyes. “I know I probably sound like a broken record by now, but I don’t consider guns to be toys at all. If anything, I consider them tools, and each one has a specific task assigned to it, including the one I just purchased.”
“The only task they fulfill as far as I can see is creating more work for me. That, and keeping you occupied when you’re not working, watching sports or spending what tiny bit of time you have left over with your wife and children.”
“Liz—”
“Maybe I should let you spend some time in the ER with me and clean out a few gunshot wounds. You could see what those things are doing to people in the real world.”
Adam didn’t say anything, only gripped the steering wheel with more exertion.
“Sorry, I guess I probably shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s okay.”
“Well, I mean, it’s your hobby and it’s perfectly human to have hobbies,” Elisabeth said. “In fact, it’s healthy. I read an article last week about it in Marie Claire…or maybe it was Cosmo. Whatever. I just know it’s healthy, especially in a marriage. I really enjoy getting together with the girls for book club each week, and I’ve recently become a big fan of sewing, thanks to that really nice Singer you got me for Christmas. The cooking classes I started are well on their way to transforming your loving wife into somewhat of a sous chef.”
“Liz…”
“All I’m saying is…it doesn’t bother me that you like to play with your guns. Just…so long as you keep them locked up and away from me and the kids.”
Adam sighed. He knew there was no use in trying to explain his feelings about guns to his wife. He’d been raised around them, mercilessly educated about them, and had used them in some form or fashion all throughout his life, and Elisabeth hadn’t. He’d tried many times over the years to introduce them to her on his level and allow her to get accustomed to them, but it had never caught on. Her career as an emergency room trauma nurse had only made it all the more difficult.
She’d made up her mind long ago that guns were dangerous, and Adam felt lucky he’d even managed to convince her to carry something as impractical as pepper spray for self-defense purposes. He’d even bought her a Kershaw assisted-open folding knife once, explaining to her the assortment of things she could use it for, and even reinforcing all the reasons why it was not only practical but judicious to carry one. He recalled seeing it sitting atop her dresser this morning in the same place it had been for weeks, collecting dust.
After a fifteen-minute drive across town, Adam pulled into the parking lot of Green Mill Elementary School. He aligned his Jeep where a long line of vehicles had gathered for student pickup. As the line crawled on, students moved one or two at a time from the safety of the building to their designated vehicles through a line of watchful educational staff standing on either side.
Before long, it was Adam and Elisabeth’s turn, and seconds after they pulled forward to a stop, two girls, each with blond hair and blue eyes, one only inches taller than the other, came running over to the Jeep and jumped merrily into the back seat.
“Seatbelts, please, girls,” Elisabeth said sternly.
“Yes, ma’am,” the girls said almost in unison.
Lander, the youngest of the two, immediately buckled herself into her booster seat. Claire, who tended to be more rebellious, jumped forward to give her father a hug before heeding her mother’s request.
“Hi, Daddy! I missed you so much today,” Claire said, her thick hair flopping into Adam’s face.
“Hey. I missed you too, kiddo. Did you have a good day at school?”
“Um, it was okay,” Claire said, falling back into her seat.
“I missed you too, Daddy,” Lander called, not wanting to feel left out. “Did you miss me?”
Adam nodded. “Of course I did, sweetheart. Did you have a good day too?”
Lander shook her head and pouted. “No.”
“No?”
Adam’s youngest puckered her lips. “No. I hate first grade. And I hate my class. And I hate my teacher too.”
“Lander, watch the language, please,” Elisabeth said.
“I’m sorry, Mommy. I can’t help it. I just hate school.”
“Hate isn’t a nice word,” her mother said. “It’s not nice to hate. And I want you to be a nice young lady who says nice things. Please put on a happy face and say it another way.”
Lander nodded, but didn’t respond. Her glowering persisted.
“Hate isn’t a bad word, Mommy.” Claire spoke up. “Mr. Marker told our class the other day. He said it was always better to say how we feel.”
Elisabeth scowled. “Claire, it doesn’t matter to me what Mr. Marker told you. It isn’t a word I want to hear come out of your sister’s mouth, or yours. Understood?”
“Yes, but—”
“Claire…”
Claire sat back and folded her arms over her chest. She looked dejected at first, but the expression soon vanished. “Daddy? Is hate really a bad word?”
Adam turned his head to see that his wife was giving him the stink eye. The two had never agreed on what was the proper way to discipline their children. Elisabeth had always played the role of disciplinarian, and Adam just wanted to be a good dad. Their differences had put them at odds with one another on countless occasions.
“Personally, Claire, I don’t think it is,” Adam replied to his daughter, then paused to watch his wife’s eyes narrow and her face turn a shade of red.
The girls gauged their mother’s expression from the back seat. Sensing
the tension between their parents, both started to giggle.
“But if your mother thinks it is, we should all respect that. And we should respect her opinion.”
Both Claire and Lander nodded their agreement.
Elisabeth threw herself back into her seat and sighed. “I swear. You do that just to make them like you more than they like me. It really ticks me off.”
“I don’t do it to sidestep you, I do it because they’re my little girls,” Adam countered. “And they’re not going to be little forever. They’ll be Violet’s age before we know it. I’m their daddy and it’s my job to make them laugh and keep them happy.”
Elisabeth sneered. “What about keeping me happy? Isn’t that your job too?”
“Sure it is. It’s just a little more…complex.”
“Complex?”
“Yeah,” Adam said, hesitating. “What made you happy the day before typically stops working the day after. It’s one of those jobs that takes a lifetime to get right.”
Elisabeth’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, really?”
Adam nodded, sending a timid smile his wife’s way. “Yeah, but I’m willing to go the distance.”
They proceeded from the school parking lot onto Channing Drive and, after a half mile, made several turns along a few tar-and-chip-paved county roads on the short journey that would lead them to their driveway and to home.
Upon pulling forward to their gate, Adam let out a disheartened sigh when he pushed a button on his remote and nothing happened.
Elisabeth shook her head disgustedly. “Looks like it’s broken,” she said. “Again.”
“Thanks, Liz. I can see that,” Adam said. He exited and stepped lively to the gate, forcing it ajar and giving it a frustrated kick afterward.
Once home, the family gathered their things and made their way to the front door. Elisabeth opened the door and allowed Claire and Lander to run inside with their backpacks and lunchboxes while firmly reminding them to remove their shoes and put their belongings away in the proper locations.
Adam marched proudly inside, his new rifle safely in his grasp. He was about to take it down to the basement, uncase it, and prepare it for its initial voyage, but a scrawny teenage girl with purple hair and earbuds blaring music into her ears collided with him along the way.
“Shit. Sorry, Dad,” she muttered, pulling one of the buds from an ear. “I didn’t see you.”
“Maybe if you’d been looking…”
She shrugged, pulling her shirttail down to modestly cover herself in her black leggings. “Yeah, maybe. Hey, is that another gun?” She leaned in playfully and kissed Adam’s cheek. “How was your day? Good? Were you off work?”
“Your mom and I both were. So it was pretty good, thanks for asking,” Adam replied, ignoring the gun question. “How was yours?”
Violet shrugged. “I wasn’t off. So it sucked.”
“Very sorry to hear that.”
She shrugged again, toying with the white, unsharpened pencil she was using to hold a portion of her hair in a bun. “It’s okay. I’m used to it. Characteristic life of an adolescent wannabee goth nerdy chick.”
“What was that?”
“Nothing.” Violet returned the earbud to her ear and started to walk off, but her father stopped her.
“Hey, hold up. Did your brother make it home?” Adam asked, looking past his oldest daughter into the hallway.
Violet shook her head, producing a look of indifference. “He wasn’t on the bus.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Fill in the blanks, Dad,” Violet said, grinning. “Nice Armalite, by the way.”
Before Adam could reply again, Elisabeth strolled up to him in a huff while their rather unconventional daughter glided away and into the kitchen.
“I’d say hello to you, Violet, but you wouldn’t be able to hear me with all that trash screaming in your ears!” Elisabeth sighed, folded her arms, and looked to Adam. “Guess what? Your son isn’t home yet.”
“I know. Violet just informed me.” Adam exhaled, setting the rifle case down and leaning it against the wall. “Wait…my son?”
“Christopher is your son,” Elisabeth said. “And he only acts this way because you allow it.”
“Liz, come on. Give me a break. Have you tried texting him?”
“Why? He never answers my texts.”
“I take it that’s a no?” Adam slid his phone from his pocket. “What makes you think he’ll answer mine?”
“Adam, enough,” Elisabeth grumbled. “We’ve been giving him too much freedom, and this is happening far too often. Here it is, nearing four o’clock already. He doesn’t have practice, and there’s no meet scheduled today. So if he’s not home yet, you can bet where he’s at—or who he’s with, anyway. He’s with that…that girl.”
“Yes, Liz. I know.”
Claire, who by now had edged herself around the corner with Lander in tow, began to chant, “Christopher has a giiirlfriend…Christopher has a giiirlfriend. Chris is gonna be in trouuuble…Chris is gonna be in trouuuble.” After a moment, Lander joined in, echoing the hymn.
“Girls!” their mother growled. “I thought I told you both to take your shoes off!”
The two sisters sprinted away, disappearing into their rooms in a cloud of uncontrollable laughter.
Elisabeth sighed in despair. “Well? Are you going to do something?”
“About the girls not taking off their shoes?”
“No! About Chris!”
Adam nodded, thumbing at his phone while trying hard not to grin. “I am doing something. I’m texting him, telling him to come home as soon as possible.”
Adam’s wife nearly stomped her foot on the floor. “Really? That’s it?”
“What else would you have me do, Liz? Go driving around looking for him? Report him as a missing person?”
Elisabeth gritted her teeth. “Spare the rod, spoil the child, Adam.”
“He’s not a child, Liz.”
“And he’s no adult, either.”
“Yet. He’s seventeen,” Adam said. “And he needs to start learning what it’s like to be responsible for his decisions.”
“Fine. Whatever,” Elisabeth spat, turning her back and walking off. “I’m done dealing with today. I’m going to get a glass of merlot and read for a while in the bathtub. Handle everything your way. You always do.”
Adam finished his text and sent it, then reached for the gun case and headed for the basement. “I can’t win.”
Seven
Winchester, Virginia
Thursday, March 27, 2:31 p.m. EDT
Nihayat al’ayam minus 9 hours, 29 minutes
Chris walked out of the school and across the parking lot, taking a seat in Jessi’s Mustang and repeating the steps he’d taken in previous days when she’d provided him with a ride. Instead of immediately moving in to kiss her cheek after tossing his backpack and other things into the back seat, he hesitated while staring down contemplatively at the illuminated screen of his smartphone.
It was just after two thirty in the afternoon on a Thursday, and normally, he would be headed off in the direction of his team’s locker room to dress and get warmed up for practice. About midway through the day, Chris had all but solidified his decision to go to the concert with Jessi and her cousin Barbie. He’d packed an extra bag before leaving home this morning, containing a change of clothes and other items he might need in case he decided to go along.
Track practice would offer him a short reprieve, which would last several hours. Chris knew he would be expected home not long after, either via the activity bus or by catching a ride with one of his teammates. His phone was quiet now and would remain that way until a couple of hours after dark. But it wouldn’t take long for that to change, and for his phone to start blowing up with messages and calls.
Chris pressed the power button and held it down long enough for three choices to be displayed on the phone’s touchscreen: emergency mode, restart, and shut
down.
Jessi pressed on the brake pedal, pulling to a stop at a red light in time to see Chris choose the latter of the three. “Well, well, well. Wonders never cease.” She sent him a sly grin. “I guess I’m not taking you home now, am I?”
Chris tilted toward her to kiss Jessi on the cheek, but she turned at the last second so the kiss would land on her lips. “I guess not,” he said, sliding his powered-down phone into his backpack. “I’m all yours for the next day or so.” He laughed slightly. “Maybe longer if my parents kick me out of the house tomorrow.”
Jessi reached for his hand. “Oh, babe, if that happens, trust me, I won’t let you be homeless. You’ll have a place to stay.”
Chris shuddered a bit at the thought of playing house with her. “Are you serious?”
The light turned green and Jessi pressed the accelerator enough to chirp both rear tires. “Of course I’m serious. We’re practically adults, anyway—might as well start getting ready for it.”
Chris squeezed her hand and rubbed her knuckles with his thumb. “I like your attitude. I think I might keep you around for a while.”
“You will if you know what’s good for you.”
Jessi took the entrance ramp to Route 37 and drove several miles exceeding the speed limit and hastily blowing by other vehicles, some as if they were standing still. They followed the same route they had taken the day prior and, within ten minutes, pulled into the driveway in front of Barbie’s house.
Chris pointed at a freshly washed oversized 4x4 pickup truck that was sitting so close to the front porch canopy, it appeared halfway underneath. “Whose truck is that? Your uncle’s?”
Jessi squinted and shook her head. “No. All his trucks are diesels and have magnetic contractor signs on them. I think that’s Robbie’s truck.”
“Robbie?”
“Yeah,” Jessi replied. “Barbie’s boyfriend.”
Chris looked at her sideways. “I didn’t know Barbie had a boyfriend.”
Jessi returned his stare. “Well, you only just met her yesterday. How could you know?” She paused, looking a bit wound up. “What difference does it make, anyway?”
Until Nothing Remains: A Hybrid Post-Apocalyptic Espionage Adventure (A Gun Play Novel: Volume 1) Page 8
