Home Fires Burning (Walking in the Rain Book 2)

by William Allen

  “I’ll take Luke on a circuit outside the fence line to the north. Take him back to where he got shot and see if he can do a better job of sneaking up on targets.”

  Bruce nodded before muttering, “I tell you, this has been a crazy day. Hell, crazy week,” he added. He never stopped peering out into the dark.

  “Is this how everything is out there?” Bruce finally asked, his question clearly directed at me.

  I waited for a beat to think how to answer his question.

  “Yes, pretty much. There are big gangs in places, trying to set up their own little kingdoms, and fighting for food and water. Other places aren’t so bad with the fighting, but everyone’s still hungry. It’s why I suggested we try to integrate these folks who came in with Glenn. If we can work together then you guys can hold the farm. Adding them will give you another twenty or thirty shooters.”

  “You think you can still make it out there?” Nick asked.

  “It’s family, man. You know how that can be. Need to see if they are still alive. I’ve come this far, less than five hundred miles to go. Easy walk.” I looked over at Nick, barely making him out by the weak moonlight.

  “You can make it easier if you ask Scott to keep teaching me those ninja moves.”

  “Only if you show us some more of that shit you used on Gary. What the fuck? Was that some kind of wrestling?”

  “Nah, I just watch a lot of UFC.”

  “Bullshit,” Bruce declared, not looking away from the dark. “That looked like that Krav Maga stuff. I saw a gym in Little Rock where they teach it.”

  “Maybe that’s where I saw it before,” I conceded. “I’ve never had any formal training, though. Seriously. I’ve been in some tussles since all this started happening; you guys know that.”

  “Shit,” Nick muttered under his breath. “You really let a girl beat you up in the third grade?”

  “Yeah, well I’ve gotten better. Plus, I’ve learned not to hesitate before I strike. And I don’t stop. Honestly, I was afraid I was going to kill him. Or gouge out an eye.”

  “Okay” Bruce said. “I heard you completely disarmed before even going outside. Was that so…”

  When he paused, I filled in the blanks.

  “If I’d had a weapon on me, I would have used it. That’s just instinct.”

  “Fuck” Nick said under his breath, “remind me never to spar with you.”

  We headed out after that, finding a game trail about a quarter mile into the trees and handrailing it for an hour or so as I wandered loosely around outside the fence line. I found a downed tree and settled in with my back to the bark. Seeing this, Nick chose a position on the other side where he could sit facing the opposite direction.

  “So, what’s on your mind?” he finally asked.

  “That transparent?” I replied.

  “Pretty much. First, what’s the problem with Sid this morning?”

  “He froze up. Near as I can tell. You set up such a sweet ambush and he never fired a round. I don’t know why, and I’m not bitching now. We got the job done without him. Maybe he just didn’t have a target.”

  “Bullshit, and you know it,” Nick replied.

  “Well, I’ve already got one of your uncles riled up at me. No reason to add another, but if he can’t be relied on to do the job, then…”

  “He’ll need to be replaced, or retasked. Do you think he just froze, period, or was it because we were bushwhacking those men?”

  “I started to ask if there’s a difference, but obviously there is one. Killing them from hiding is cowardly and lowdown. Also the right thing to do. Maybe he’s just seen too many Westerns.”

  Nick said he’d talk to Sid, and for now his uncle was off the security team until they had that conversation.

  “So what’s bothering you?” I asked in turn. “Something had you out there staring at the stars.”

  “Just thinking of better days, you know?”

  I did. I still looked up at the stars at night. I didn’t say anything. Waiting for Nick to get to the real reason he was awake at three in the morning.

  “We’re going to have to go get the rest of those girls.”

  He didn’t have to say which girls.

  “Yep,” I said.

  “They got nobody looking out for them and their parents are hundreds of miles away.”

  “Yep,” I said again.

  “Is that all you can say?”

  “Nope.”

  “You aren’t very funny kid.”

  I finally got serious. “We need to get them out, arrange for a change in management at the refugee center and take out Larry Rufus. All the while avoiding being overrun by the starving hordes streaming out of the cities. That about cover it?”

  “What about Uncle Gary?”

  “Well, just between me and you and the fencepost, unless your uncle undergoes a pretty drastic change of heart, he’s not going to make it. One way or another.”

  “That’s cold. I know you can’t stand him, and I understand why you kicked his ass, too. But he’s family. Like you said before, that has to count.”

  “Well, Nick, you might want to discuss that with your father. I think he’s seriously concerned about your uncle trying to stage a coup, or something.”

  I sighed. My ribs hurt when I did it.

  “I guess we need to see about getting in contact with the ANG.”

  “The who?”

  “The Arkansas National Guard. I’ll bet they are still mobile because a bunch of their vehicles are so old they don’t have anything computerized in their engines. You know that had to be who the little girl was talking about at the school.”

  “Carrie, yes. You know, probably a dicey idea. But they could help with several of those problems.”

  “You don’t sound enthused, Luke. What, did you have to top a squad of national guardsmen to escape one of those FEMA camps?”

  Nick said it as a joke, and I didn’t move a muscle. Couldn’t move at that moment as it all came rushing back.

  After a full minute of silence, Nick whispered, his lips close to my ear as he was suddenly struck by a sense of caution.

  “Are you serious?”

  “I ain’t saying nothing, boss. Just don’t go expecting them to be the same boys you knew from the Army.”

  We sat in silence for a while after that, until Nick rose and headed back to the farm. I know Nick was burning to ask me for more details of my unfortunate dealings with those assholes in Missouri, but I wasn’t ready to volunteer that information. Killing anybody is bad enough, but killing uniformed military at a time when Martial Law was the law of the land? Right or wrong, that might not be something that could just be ignored. The powers that be hate when their thugs are made an example, instead of the other way around.

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  I slept late the next day, until around eight am, which meant I still managed to squeeze out another three hours of much needed sleep. I showered, enjoying the cold water on my sore muscles, and checked my face in the mirror. A few bruises, and a tiny patch of skin missing on my chin but nothing too noticeable. My shirt would cover the damage to my chest, back and sides. Gary’s fists definitely left their marks. I wondered how he looked this morning.

  I missed breakfast, too, but that was okay. I’d last until lunch. Not the first meal I’d skipped in the last few months. I think I was even gaining a few pounds since Doc Cass stayed on my tail. She’d given me a check up last night before I laid down to nap after the fight. I turned down the offered pain medication, even though it was just Tylenol, telling her I’d gotten hurt worse at football practice.

  Darwin, I found out, had gone over at first light and had a sit down with James and Glenn. Stan filled me in as we sorted the loot “liberated” from the raider camp. No one knew the details yet, but Darwin had asked Stan to get my help in sorting. We were using the big horse barn since they were out grazing for the day and everything would end up either added to our supplies or hauled across the
road.

  I also found out Stan was the reason I got those few extra hours of sack time. As he put it, he was doing prep work and didn’t need me getting in the way.

  “So, what exactly did he say he wanted sent over?” I asked, trying to play catch up.

  “All foodstuffs, cooking supplies, camping items, the works. We are keeping the weapons for now, but he even wants us to provide some ammunition down the road.”

  “Alright. Let’s get to moving.”

  The trucks were parked conveniently in the middle of the barn so we started making piles to either side of the line of vehicles. Food was easy enough to separate out in boxes and we made no effort to organize these cans and bottles. Since these items would be donated, no record keeping was necessary.

  Stan seemed to be walking much better today and I commented on this. He just grinned.

  “Nice to be able to step without whimpering, you know. So, how are these new folks? I heard you helped them get over there yesterday.”

  I thought about the lady I met the day before, Stacy, and her two kids. I left before sleeping arrangements were set up but I hoped they got a spot indoors last night. The mosquitoes were killers.

  “They seem like decent folks. Skinny, like we was when the four of us first got here.”

  “Man, Ruth and I were skinny. You and Amy, you all looked…um, much skinnier.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, that’s what Doc Cass said, but not so nice. After awhile, when you are starving, I guess you don’t notice it as much. I thought I was doing pretty good.”

  Stan sobered before speaking next.

  “You were doing good, buddy. You were still alive. But, are these new folks the kind of people we want as neighbors? I just worry, what with Ruth and Sophia.”

  From someone else, I might have suspected an ulterior motive, but I knew just how Stan felt.

  “Well, heck, of course we need to keep an eye on them. They aren’t raiders, not like we’ve become to think of that term. I’m sure some of them might have done questionable things to survive this long.”

  “Not, uh, like the ones you mentioned at the rest stop?”

  “No, I don’t think so. They look too skinny to be indulging in the long pork.”

  Stan made a gagging sound as he shifted a box of assorted ammunition over to our keep pile.

  “Those jokes aren’t so funny anymore, you know?”

  “I get it. So, do you know Glenn?” I asked, hefting a heavy wall tent over to the Branson pile. We’d just been referring to these refugees as the “Branson group” and the name, or some variation, seemed to have stuck.

  “Yes, a little bit. Met him at get-togethers with Ruth’s family, you know. Actually, you should ask Ruth. I think they were like big Facebook buddies or something. You concerned about how he’s going to take you rearranging his dad’s face? Nice job, by the way.”

  “Thanks, I think. It wasn’t a macho thing, you know. There’s reasons. But yes, I don’t want to start a feud. We’ve got enough going on at the moment.”

  “Well, let’s get this job done, then drive over and deliver the presents and see what Glenn says. Nobody can stay angry when there are presents, you know.”

  Stan kept a straight face until he got the last line and switched to an exaggerated, “girlie” voice.

  “Man, tell me you don’t use that voice around Ruth. If you did, I doubt she would have agreed to carry your child.”

  Stan laughed. The voice did sound pretty funny, a high falsetto coming out a guy who looked like a short bear.

  “It will be our little secret. Now, let’s get to it. We’re burning daylight.”

  In total, splitting the haul only took a bit over two hours. We left the “keeper” items stacked where they were, since I figured this would be another chore for me later. I didn’t mind. This was more fun that weeding the gardens or slopping the hogs.

  The items going over to the old Walsh place filled the back of the panel truck and spilled over onto a trailer behind. Pulling around to the front of the house, Stan and I parked in the driveway long enough to stick our head in the door and find Darwin. Stan found him in the kitchen, filling buckets with freshly rinsed eggs.

  “We’ve got all the gear sorted and loaded, Mr. Keller,” Stan said.

  “Stan, we let you run off with our little girl. The least you can do is call me by my given name.” Darwin fired back, and I could tell he was in better mood today. Maybe it was because of the decision he made last night about our newest neighbors, or something else he had in the works.

  “Yes, Darwin. We have this order filled. You want Luke and me to bring it over?”

  “You go ahead. I want Luke to take a little trip with me to go visiting the neighbors. The other neighbors,” he clarified. “Please tell James and Glenn where we recovered these items. I don’t want to give them the wrong impression.”

  After helping Stan to carefully stow the eggs away for transport across the road, I went back to check with Mr. Keller.

  “How do you want me armed, sir?”

  “What do you mean, son?”

  “Friendly visit to the neighbors, or heavily armed bodyguard attire?”

  “Well, Nick will be accompanying us…”

  “Bodyguard it is sir.” I supplied crisply. With both Kellers, father and son, vulnerable away from the defenses of the farm, I raced back to the barracks and loaded up my CETME, all my spare magazines and the bullet resistant vest. With my bruises still healing, this gear was set aside in the footlocker, but not today.

  The M4 came with me as well, and when I found Nick waiting in the kitchen, I handed him the carbine and the extra magazines. He looked at the rifle and then took a second, harder look when he saw the engraving on the side.

  “Select fire?” He said, as if trying to suppress his curiosity.

  “Oh, yeah. That’s a loaner, Nick. Unless you have something else like it, I want something like it on our trip. Amy was using it. We recovered it as salvage outside Harrison. ”

  “Why are you carrying heavy? We are just going…Oh, you think somebody will try to pull something this close?”

  “I don’t know. But if I was trying to destabilize this area, I would start by killing you and your father. The two of you together make a nice target.”

  “What on earth makes you come up with these things? Destabilize?”

  “My dad said it happened a lot in Afghanistan. Any time a village leader got too chummy with the Americans, the Taliban would go after him, and his family. Only leaders from really powerful tribes could even hope to survive in that instance.”

  “Ah, yes. That did happen. You think we need more men?” Nick was taking my concern seriously. I could tell.

  “How many going?” I asked absently, as I went through each of my CETME magazines to make sure the springs were still good. These could set up easily, in my experience, if left fully loaded too long. My chest still hurt and my tussle with Gary the day before didn’t help, but the big 308 Winchester rounds would go places the 223 just couldn’t penetrate. I’d live with the extra weight, and the pain if it came to that.

  “Four total. Me, you, Pops and Cass. She wants to check on the neighbor’s health. Some are quite elderly and not in the best shape.”

  “Can she shoot?” I asked.

  “Yes, Aunt Cass is a pretty good shot, pistol and rifle.”

  If Nick was offended by my take charge attitude he didn’t comment. I was just on edge about making a target. Nick assured me it was nine stops total, and all on the dirt road out front. The truck we used was an old king cab pickup, similar to the one we picked up in Harrison but mechanically in much better condition.

  Darwin drove and I found myself repeating the constant scanning from before when riding with Stan and Ruth. Nick did likewise, and he seemed pleased when he caught me doing the same. Cass sat in the back with me and seemed amused as I ignored her questions and focused on the greenery flying by outside.

  “Cass, leave him alone. Lu
ke’s trying to keep watch.” Nick finally said, interceding on my behalf.

  “But we are just going down the road, just a couple of miles from the place,” she protested.

  “Cass, the last home on this road is where the Trimbles lived. We know what happened there,” Darwin added patiently, but getting his sister-in-law to realize the potential danger. The rest of the ride was completed in silence until we reached our first stop.

  “This is the Laretto place,” Nick said, helpfully supplying the name. I recognized it, of course. Next neighbor up, with the foreclosed property in between. That reminded me to talk to Nick later about getting some people in there if it was still habitable.

  After driving down a long treed lined gravel lane, I figured we must be getting close. The gate at the front was closed, but the hand manning the point opened up when he recognized Darwin at the wheel. I quickly found out over the course of the morning that everybody knew Darwin. Not because he was a social butterfly, as my Mom might derisively call some, but due to his willingness to help any neighbor in need even before the lights went out.

  “Darwin, what are you up to, my man?” the twenty-something cowboy called out.

  “Sam, good to see you. Just making the rounds, checking to see if Gene is up and about yet,” Darwin replied in the same bantering way.

  “Oh, yes, sir. Mr. Gene was up with the chickens, like always. He’s up to the house, last I saw him. Who’s that with you?”

  “Well, you know Nick. This is Hazel’s sister Cassie. And one of my new hands, Luke.”

  We all gave a neighborly nod as Darwin went around the group and Sam gave us a little wave before stepping back and shutting the metal pipe stem gate. Sam might look like a cowboy in his sweat stained straw hat and faded denim jeans but he carried the AR-15 like he knew how to use it.

  The main house was similar to Mr. Keller’s, but with brick instead of wood siding. Darwin parked in the shade of a giant willow tree and killed the engine. Before we could exit the vehicle, the front door of the house swung open and a short, stocky man in his late 40s or early 50s emerged onto the porch. Dressed much like Sam, this man wore a leather pistol belt on his waist.