Terry got up and walked over to them, extending his hand to shake.
“My name is Terry Stepp. It’s nice to meet you.” He shook hands with Bo and then extended his hand to Geraldine who hesitated at first but then extended one hand, palm down, fingers slightly curled, with her eyes closed. Terry didn’t know if she expected him to kiss it as if she was royalty, but he just grasped it lightly and released it.
“We have the Lord to thank for showing us this place,” Geraldine said, looking at the ceiling.
“I thought it was just a sign on the road,” Jim responded. “Probably put there by mere mortals working for the Department of Transportation.”
Geraldine flashed a look of contempt at Jim. Their dislike for each other was now mutual. “We might not have seen the sign if the Lord hadn’t showed it to us.”
Jim shook his head, certain that he was not going to be able to put up with this for very long. Angela reappeared carrying a mop bucket.
“You guys should wring the water out of your coats,” she said, setting the bucket down in front of them. She quickly made her way to Jim’s side and put an arm around his waist and distracted him with a kiss before he could make another statement to offend the woman.
“That’s Jim and Angela,” Terry said, taking advantage of the moment to change the subject. He could see that Bo and Geraldine were going to be a problem. At least Geraldine was. Bo seemed okay.
Geraldine looked at Jim and Angela. Her gaze traveled down to their left hands and their bare ring fingers. Her scowl of disapproval intensified with a slight shaking of her head.
“Pleased to meet you,” Bo said, looking at Angela. “Ma’am,” he added.
“Is this your lodge, Mr. Stepp?” Geraldine asked.
Terry hesitated for a moment, thinking fast. “Yes it is. You’re welcome to stay for the night to dry off, and I can offer you a bowl of soup, and then a ride to your cabin in the morning.” He figured that ought to terminate any thoughts they might have about a prolonged stay.
“That would be very good of you, sir,” Bo replied.
“With a place this large, surely you have room for two more people,” Geraldine said, looking around at the spacious main room and then looking toward the hall that led to multiple offices and doors leading to a few other areas.
Terry felt very uncomfortable and didn’t know how to respond to the woman inviting herself and her son to become long-term occupants of the lodge.
Jim filled the awkward silence. “Terry giving you a ride to your cabin in the morning will beat the hell out of walking. Your knees will appreciate it, and you’ll be able to change into dry clothes so you won’t look like somethin’ the cat drug in.”
Geraldine flinched when Jim said “hell.” Bo nodded in agreement.
“That would be mighty kind of you,” Bo replied, earning another disapproving glance from his mother. They were clearly not on the same page. Geraldine grabbed Bo’s sleeve and pulled his head down as she craned hers upward to whisper into his ear.
Once again, Terry felt awkward in their presence as he watched them whispering not more than ten feet away from him. He stood up.
“I’ll go fix up some soup. You folks can feel free to lay your coats out in front of the fire after you squeeze the water out of them.” He headed toward the kitchen, leaving Jim and Angela to deal with the new guests.
Jim wanted to slip back into his bedroom to get away from Geraldine, but he didn’t trust leaving them alone with all of their stuff sitting on the table. That gave him an idea. He picked up a box with spices and seasonings and asked Angela if she would take it to the storage room. He looked intently at her, indicating that she should do it; he had a reason. She took the box and walked down the hall. He slid the heaviest box over closer to himself and waited until he saw her heading back. He picked it up and headed down the hall toward her.
They met at the near end of the hallway and he whispered, “I want to clear our stuff out of there, but with only one of us gone from the room at a time. Grab another box, please.” He resumed walking down the hall before she could answer, carrying the box into the break room where they were storing acquired goods.
They continued clearing the table, timing it so that Geraldine and Bo were never alone more than a few seconds. Terry emerged with a large pot of soup which he set on the table then went back for a tray of bowls and spoons as Angela took the last of the supplies from the table.
When Terry put the bowls on the table, Jim grabbed one and ladled some soup into it.
“No crackers?” he asked Terry.
“Be right back.” Terry looked over at the mother and son still seated on the hearth. “Soup’s on!”
They walked over and sat in adjacent seats. Terry returned carrying a red and white box of crackers. Jim reached for the box and took out a package and ripped it open. Terry filled a bowl with soup and slid it in front of Geraldine, then did it again for Bo.
Geraldine brought her hands together in front of her face and looked at Bo. He did the same, closing his eyes. Geraldine closed her eyes and began speaking.
“Our Father, who art in Heaven…”
Jim put a cracker in his mouth then loudly slurped soup from his spoon as she spoke.
“Hallowed be Thy name.”
Slurrrrrrp!
“Have you no gratitude for the food He’s provided you?”
“Thank you, Terry. I love chicken noodle soup!” Jim said, smiling.
Geraldine was perturbed and abruptly said, “Amen,” then touched a finger to the left and right sides of her chest, then her forehead, ending with a touch to her solar plexus. Bo copied her and said, “Amen.”
Geraldine looked at Jim as though she was in pain and said, “Would you please pass the crackers?” She looked at the package that he was taking a cracker from with each spoonful of soup.
Jim reached across the table and slid the box of crackers several inches over so that they were now right next to her bowl. He looked at her as if he didn’t understand why she needed him to do that.
Angela set her bowl down on Jim’s right and took a seat. Jim moved his crackers from his left side to his right to share them with Angela.
“So, where do you folks live?” Terry asked, trying to fill the uncomfortable silence.
“We did live in Denver. But now, we’ll be staying up in—“
Geraldine interrupted her son. “By the grace of God we were out of town when the bomb went off, destroying our home and our church. After that, the Lord led us up the mountain, and has brought us to this place. We don’t know what He has in store for us next.”
Jim started laughing. Bo smiled automatically at the sound of laughter and wanted to share in the good humor. “What?” he asked, looking at Jim.
“Nothing. I was just imagining Jesus driving you guys up the mountain road, but I guess you actually drove yourselves - until your car broke down.”
Bo was confused. Geraldine sipped her soup. Jim thought from the look on her face, she could’ve been drinking a bowl filled with lemon juice.
She looked at Jim. “What faith do you belong to?”
Jim was raising his spoon to his mouth and stopped. He looked directly into Geraldine’s eyes. “I’m a nihilist,” he said, continuing to stare for a few seconds.
“Well, I suppose you must be happy with what Satan has done to Denver if you believe in annihilation.”
Jim shook his head in dismay and said, “I can’t do this.” He picked up his bowl and walked to the kitchen to finish eating, alone.
A few minutes later he came out carrying a mop which he used to clean up the water Bo and Geraldine had tracked in from the front door to the fireplace.
“Cleanliness is next to Godliness,” he said, smirking at Geraldine, and setting the mop down in the bucket.
He walked down the hall and stopped at his doorway and turned to face the main room. “Terry, wake me up in the morning when you’re leaving to take them to their cabin.” He went into hi
s room and shut the door, loudly.
Twenty-seven
The next morning when Carl woke up, his neck was stiff with pain. The diaper, stained with dried blood, was sitting beside him. He turned and looked at the stone wall behind him and saw only a few smudges of dried blood on the stones. The bleeding must’ve stopped. He got up and moved very carefully as he got dressed, aware that too much motion with his left arm could break the clotting loose and the bleeding would resume.
The rain had finally stopped and he needed to find help for his wound in addition to finding Trey for revenge. Trey had it coming even more so now than before. If it wasn’t for him taking off with the woman and the gun, Carl wouldn’t have had to go looking for a new gun, and he wouldn’t have gotten shot. Trey was going to pay for that now too.
He knew the road where Trey’s parents had a cabin. He didn’t know the address, but he knew close enough to where it was and he was sure he’d recognize it when he saw it. There weren’t many other places Trey could go. He had to be there.
***
Trey woke up on Monica’s couch feeling much better than when he had fallen asleep. He sat up slowly, wary of the pain that he expected to start pounding in his head and was relieved that it had reduced to a dull throb. He looked around Monica’s living-room. She wasn’t there. He went to the bathroom, glancing in her room as he passed it, but she wasn’t in there either. He was a little concerned and as he urinated, he wondered where she could be.
He rinsed his hands, wiped them on a nice towel hanging in a silver hoop on the wall and went back into the hallway. He walked over to the spare bedroom and saw her asleep in the guest bed. It made sense. She didn’t want to sleep in her own bed after what had happened there.
He lay down on the bed beside her and adjusted his position until they were perfectly spooned. He put an arm around her with his palm flat on her abdomen. He breathed in the scent of her hair and kissed the back of her head.
“Mmm,” she moaned, stirring and rolling onto her back. She opened her eyes and smiled at him. “You look like you’re feeling better.”
“I am. Thank you. I also feel good enough to drive to my parent’s cabin and see if anyone is there.”
“Okay,” she said.
“I’d like to take some guns from your safe, if you don’t mind.”
She smiled and spoke a series of numbers. It took him a second to realize what she was saying. He got up slowly and went to the safe. “Tell me again?”
***
After solving the problem of nearly freezing to death, Tori struggled with a new problem; trying to keep Liz entertained without television. She was fortunate that Liz liked to hear the same stories over and over, but even Liz had her limits and was getting bored.
She had other problems as well. The woodpile was getting low, and the food was nearly gone. They had to leave soon. She tried to think of where they could possibly go to stay warm and fed, and, she hoped, entertained to some degree. Being with other people would help a lot, especially if they had young kids that Liz could play with.
The only thing she could think of nearby was the Ice Bunny Lodge. It hadn’t been scheduled to open until after the bomb went off, but it was possible that some employees could’ve been scheduled to start early. Maybe they wouldn’t mind helping a stranger and sharing what had to be a large food supply. And if the place was empty, maybe she could find a way in. She knew there would be plenty of wood there too. At least a couple cords.
She looked outside and saw that the rain had stopped. She took it as an omen telling her it was time to go.
“Liz, honey. Let’s get dressed and go for a drive.” After they dressed, Tori went to the kitchen and found a pen. She couldn’t find any paper but she found a grocery sack. She wrote on the sack and put it on the table, setting the sugar bowl on top of it. “Let’s go see if we can find people,” Tori said, escorting Liz to their car.
***
Carl wet his hair in the sink using both hands before he realized what he was doing. He felt the pain in his shoulder-blade as he raised his hands to his head and stopped suddenly when the sharp pain came to life in his shoulder. He turned and looked at his back in the mirror, twisting his head around as far as he could. Dammit. He was bleeding again. But at least it was only oozing out and not gushing like yesterday.
He went and got a diaper and took it into the office, then sat in the leather office chair with the diaper on his bullet hole. He rolled the chair up close to the desk so he could reach the drawers while keeping his back pressed against the chair. He found standard office supplies in most of the drawers. To reach the last drawer, he reclined the chair back a little, then swiveled it, bringing his hand low enough to pull it open.
“There you are!” He slid his hand past a box of ammo and felt around for the gun he hoped to find further back in the drawer, but there was nothing there. He lifted the box of ammo and set it on the desk. It was a box of Smith & Wesson .22LR. “Well at least it’s the right caliber,” he said. “Thank you, Lord.”
After a short while, the bleeding stopped again and he decided to grab a few things and get going. He wanted to take a case of whiskey, but he couldn’t carry a case, so he took half a case, carrying two bottles at a time in his right hand. He was able to carry a case of cigarettes one-handed, so he took one, then went back and grabbed the remaining one. He put the cigarettes in the back of the station wagon. The supplies were as good as cash if life didn’t return to normal. And he didn’t see how it possibly could. Denver was history. There would never be a city there again – at least not for a long, long time.
For the first time, Carl thought about other places. He hoped Denver wasn’t the only city that got blown up. If it was, then any survivors would just end up migrating to a city nearby. He’d have to either join them, returning to his normal life as a nobody, or stay here and be nothing but a drifter in a ghost town. He may have been a bit overly optimistic when he’d first seen the mushroom cloud.
After loading up the car, he sat behind the wheel thinking while he reloaded his pistol. If he stayed in the mountain area west of Denver, he could still rule the land. Fuck it. That’s what he’d do until he found out more about what had happened and how badly America was hurting. He put a diaper under his shirt, covering his bullet wound and started the car, heading south in search of Trey’s family cabin.
***
Trey took a shotgun and the other Glock from the gun safe. He pulled back the slide on the Glock and saw that the chamber was clear. He released the magazine and saw that it was full, as he had expected based on the weight of the gun. He took all of the ammo he could carry and put it in the RV. He came back for the shotgun and found Monica sitting up on the bed.
“We should take the revolver too, just in case one of the Glocks jams. That’s why Thomas bought it – as a backup.”
“Okay. Would you like me to get anything out of your room for you, like some shoes or something?”
“Thank you, but I’ll do it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. If I can’t go in my own room, then he’s still victimizing me in a way. You know?
She got up and gave Trey a brief hug on her way to her room across the hall. Trey watched her go, feeling bad for her and imagining what must be going through her mind. He hoped she didn’t relive the attack she was still physically recovering from. He wished she would have let him get her things for her.
When she didn’t immediately come back out crying, he took the shotgun and the revolver out to the RV. After that, he didn’t know what to do. Should he leave her alone and wait? If he did that, would she think he didn’t care? Or should he go in and comfort her? If he did that, would she be insulted, thinking that he didn’t believe she was strong enough to confront her demons by herself?
He decided on a compromise. He walked down the hall, stopped outside the door and knocked twice. “I’ll be in the kitchen. Okay?”
“Okay,” she said.
He could
n’t tell if there was anything different in her voice to indicate if she was having difficulty being in her room or not. He sighed and went to the kitchen to find something to eat. He noticed the table was out of place and the salt and pepper shakers were lying on their sides. That was odd. An open pack of bacon and a carton of eggs were sitting next to the gas range.
Carl.
He threw away the rotted food and took the liner from the trash can outside. He came back in and pulled the table back to where it was before and set the salt and pepper shakers upright. He looked around for any other signs of Carl that might upset Monica. He grabbed a sponge from the sink, wet it, and wiped grease splatter from around the stove-top burners.
He turned on the hot water, hoping to clean the sponge. He waited a minute and the water turned hot. He was glad she had a gas water heater. A gas water heater? They could shower!
Monica came in to the kitchen and Trey looked at her closely for signs of emotional trauma.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said, but didn’t quite sound fine. She spoke quietly and pursed her lips, drawing them into her mouth. Just seeing her try to be strong made Trey feel awful inside. He wished for the hundredth time that he could turn back time. “Did you find anything to eat?”
“Not really. I sure wish I had a Sausage McMuffin right about now.” He laughed, wondering if or when that would ever be possible again.
“Maybe someday I can make you a veggie sausage muffin.” Trey wrinkled his nose at the thought of veggie sausage. “You’d like it. It’s really good.”
“If you say so.”
“I don’t have much food. I decided not to go shopping until after the storm had passed. Everything in the fridge will be ruined by now.” She walked over to the cabinet where she kept snack food and pulled out a bag of seaweed puffs.
Trey looked at the bag and said, “I’ll just wait till we get to my folk’s cabin. I’m not that hungry.”
Monica laughed and said, “Try one,” lifting a green puff toward his mouth. He reluctantly opened his mouth and let her put it in. He chewed it, looking like she had just fed him a cockroach, then his expression changed.
In The End: a pre-apocalypse novel Page 13
