by Joe Nobody
Breathing hard and staring at one another, both boys did as they were told.
“Now listen to me… all of you,” Shane began. “This is some serious shit. Even if those guys really are Rangers, we’ve all done some things that would put us in jail. Maybe even lethal injection. I don’t think they are cops, but we can’t take the chance. I say we retreat to the catacombs and wait until they get tired and leave.”
None of the gathered throng liked the idea, several moaning at the thought. “The catacombs? Gosh, I hate that place, Shane,” one of the older boys challenged. “There’s nothing to eat down there but the corn, and that place is creepy. Why don’t we just go out and kill them all?”
Several of the others agreed with the challenger, many voicing their opinions at the same time. Shane lifted his hands to quiet the crowd, “Shut up!”
After the protests had died down, Shane peered over the top of the gathering. “Now listen to me, and listen real good. I’ve spent time in jail, and it’s no fun. You boys wouldn’t last a week inside. If we hide, they’ll leave in a few days, and then things can go back to normal.”
“But what are we going to eat and drink?” someone from the back asked.
“I’ve got an idea on that,” came the knowing response. “I think we can steal the stranger’s food after we hole up in the catacombs. Hell, they might even have some cigarettes or beer.”
“What was that bullshit about being a Texas Ranger?” Grim asked.
“I couldn’t think of anything else,” Bishop grinned. “They were just kids, and when I was that age, the Rangers were heroes. I used to listen to bunkhouse stories about their exploits. The ranch hands were always going on about how brave and fair the Rangers were.”
Grim laughed, shaking his head. “I think somebody watched too much television. From what I recall from my history books, the Rangers were a bloodthirsty bunch, barely on the right side of the law.”
“Yeah, I think you’re right. There were periods when they got a little out of control, but overall, the people of Texas respected them. Before the collapse, their organization had transformed into more of a crime scene investigation unit, doing fancy forensics and stuff like that. But the lore continued.”
Grim thought about Bishop’s response and then shrugged his shoulders. “Hell, you can tell the locals you’re Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy for all I give a shit. Whatever works.”
“Well now, that’s the problem, isn’t it? What does work?”
Grim got serious for a moment, “I don’t know what happened in Brighton. I wasn’t there. But you came back looking like somebody had hollowed out your insides with an ice cream scoop. I know you, I’ve seen you fight and deal with shit that would drive another man to his knees. To see you like that is kind of freaking me out. So I’m taking this seriously… I’m following your lead. I’ve got your back, whatever you decide is best. But… and I’ve got to say this right up front… if I see this going wrong, if I think this is going bad, I will pick your scrawny ass up and carry you out of here kicking and screaming. You can fire me later.”
“Thanks, Grim,” Bishop said. “You know that means a lot to me. I’m still sorting out what happened in Brighton… still working it through. You’ll be the first to hear my exaggerations and lies when I’m ready.”
Before the contractor could respond, Kevin’s voice sounded over the airwaves. “I’ve got a lot of movement in town. It’s as if the people are darting around, trying to stay out of sight. But they’re up to something.”
Bishop keyed his microphone. “Are they heading toward us?”
“No, I don’t think so, but I can’t say for sure what they’re doing. I don’t see any indication of a threat, or any sort of movement toward our position.”
“Keep me informed,” Bishop responded and then looked at Grim. “We need to get in there and find out what’s going on.”
“Not during the daytime, we’re not. You need a little shuteye, some food, and some down time to think. That town ain’t going nowhere. We can go poke around after dark when we have the advantage.”
Bishop smirked at the response, “So you’re my babysitter now?”
“Damn straight. I am here to keep your sorry ass alive, brother. Besides, you know I’m right about waiting until it gets dark.”
Bishop sighed, admitting Grim was indeed correct. “You’re spot on with going in later. Besides, we need to put eyes on those grain silos. If they’re empty or rotten, there’s no sense in hanging around.”
“Now you’re talking sense,” Grim responded, happy a disagreement had been avoided. “Now that you’re in such a congenial mood, why don’t you take a little siesta? I’ll wake you up in four hours and take my turn.”
“Now that is the best suggestion you’ve made all day, Grim. Make sure Cory and Kevin both get some rest too.”
Jimmy mentally checked his assignments, his mind flashing an inventory of faces that he needed to visit. Shane wanted all the rats to assemble at the elementary school when the sun was high.
Jimmy’s orders were to spread the word between Walnut and Center streets.
Normally, he’d welcome the chance to socialize, especially the house where Candy lived. But not today. He knew the rats would bitch and moan at Shane’s demand that they hide in the catacombs. A few of the older ones might even refuse to go. Most of them would get mad at him for delivering the message.
Still, he would get to see Candy, and he hoped she wouldn’t be too angry. Walking along Center Street, he struggled to understand why going to Candy’s house made him feel all weird inside. In the last few months, he taken to stopping by his old classmate’s home more often than necessary, only to get all twisted up and not being able to talk or explain why. Hell, he thought, What is going on with me?
He had known the girl ever since he could remember, growing up only a few blocks away. They had started in kindergarten together, progressing through elementary school. The classes were tiny in a small town, which meant all the kids knew each other. Still, Candy was the only one that made him feel all warm inside.
Lately, he’d even taken to making special trips to her house after a successful hunt, delivering her ration of the meat personally, building up his manly exploits as a provider. Jimmy shook his head, feeling stupid about how he’d been acting.
The last few times he’d visited Candy, some odd, previously unknown part of his brain had taken control. It had been so strange, like some other person had welled up inside him. He had felt an overwhelming desire to impress the blonde-headed lass, to let her know how strong and worldly he had become. You were showing off, he thought.
He’d even gone so far as to give her extra portions of feral pork, boasting about the size and the ferocity of the dangerous beasts he’d bested on the hunt. In reality, the pigs were getting smaller and smaller, the “extra cut” actually his personal share of the meat.
He didn’t mind eating only corn for a few extra days – seeing Candy’s face light up at the extra meat made his belly feel fuller than any meal.
Embarrassed, worried Shane and the other guys would tease him to high heaven if they noticed, Jimmy resolved himself to deliver his message and then leave Candy’s porch as soon as possible. This was serious business, the strangers a real threat.
He pushed open the gate, not even noticing the overgrown yard now as high as the surrounding white picket fence. Bounding up the two steps leading to the front porch, he rapped hard on the screen door’s frame.
No one answered. He repeated the knock, following by a loud, “Candy? Candy, it’s Jimmy.”
Panic tore through his gut. Were the strangers already in town? Had they taken Candy? Memories popped into Jimmy’s head, terrible images of the last time vicious, bullying men had entered Riley. He hadn’t understood why, didn’t realize what it all had meant at the time.
There had been only a handful of the town’s men left alive when the strangers had appeared. Most of the adults had succumbed to the s
ickness by then; many more killing each other, or perishing in the crossfires and battles with trespassers.
Jimmy remembered waking up one morning, his aunt crying hysterically. His older cousin Darla was missing, as were a handful of the more mature girls.
They had found the pitiful teens three days later, six of them locked in a tiny storeroom. Jimmy had gone with the men to storm the church, the building having been overrun and occupied by the raiders.
He could still remember Shane’s words, “Kill them all, just like they were wild pigs or rabbits. Don’t hesitate or think about it. Put those evil animals in your sights and pull the trigger. Blow ’em to bits. We don’t have any choice; we’ll never be safe while they draw breath.”
And they had.
But those five newcomers hadn’t gone down without a fight. Jimmy remembered helping Shane and the others carry a bunch of bodies to the grave trench. He’d lost count of how many they had loaded onto the wagon.
Then they had pulled the raiders out of the church, dragging their remains behind Mr. Baker’s horse without respect, their heads and arms bouncing across the washboard road on the way to the field. He’d never seen Shane’s face look so… so… so wicked as he lit the pile of wood under the stacked bodies. He tended the fire while the few remaining men had stood and watched those corpses burn. Jimmy would never forget the crackling and hissing of people-fat… the gross smell of burning human flesh.
Jimmy hadn’t understood why they had found the girls naked, wide-eyed, and sobbing. He hadn’t been old enough to grasp why the older women had wrapped them in blankets and hustled them off without a word. No one had clarified the connection to a seemingly unrelated event a few weeks later when two of the rescued sisters had hung themselves in the loft of their garage.
It wasn’t until months later, when Shane had explained it to them all, that the events set in motion by the kidnappers became clear to Jimmy. Now, Candy was missing, and those memories all came boiling back up, conveying rage and fury with them.
Pulling the rifle off his shoulder, Jimmy worked the bolt and chambered one of the few bullets Shane had left. He’d kill the strangers… shoot them dead if they had hurt Candy.
He pulled open the screen door, stepping inside the house as quietly as possible. He’d shot men before, this wouldn’t be any harder.
He found the living room empty, as was the bedroom and dining area. He was sneaking his way to the kitchen when he heard Candy’s voice through the backdoor screen.
Rushing out with his rifle ready, Jimmy stopped short. Candy and her little sister were strolling across the backyard, a dozen bottles of water dangling from the two girls’ shoulders via an assortment of shoestrings, twine, and rope.
Exhaling, Jimmy slumped in relief. “Shit,” he whispered, “they were only down at the creek getting water. Thank God.”
Candy peered up, spotting him standing on the back porch. “Hey, Jimmy,” her musical voice sounded. “Did you get another pig this morning?”
He didn’t answer immediately, wanting to enjoy her smile for a minute before he delivered the bad news. Moving down the steps, he trotted out to help the two girls with their heavy load.
Once they had set the water jugs on the porch, Jimmy explained, “I’ve got bad news. We found some strangers just outside of town, and Shane wants everyone to move into the catacombs right away.”
The alarm that painted Candy’s face distressed him. “Are they sickos? Are they acting crazy?” she asked with dread in her voice.
“No. No, they seemed normal enough. I don’t think they’ve been here long enough to catch the sickness. But Shane doesn’t want to take any chances. He wants everyone to gather at the elementary school when the sun is high. Bring as much food and water as you can carry.”
Candy was clearly worried, but didn’t react like Jimmy expected. “Okay,” she agreed, pacing back and forth on the creaking planks of the outside decking. “We’ll be there. Any idea how long we’ll be gone?”
Jimmy tilted his head, a little surprised she hadn’t protested the move. “No, there’s no telling, but I can’t imagine the strangers will stay long if there isn’t anything here for them.”
The older girl swayed close, reaching up to touch Jimmy’s arm. “You’re going to stay with us, aren’t you?” she asked, a pleading look in her eyes. “I mean… I… we’ll be safe as long as you are there.”
For once, Jimmy was thankful there wasn’t any breeze blowing, sure that even the slightest stirring of air would knock him over. The sensation of her hand on his forearm made his knees feel all watery, the look in her eyes causing his muscles to turn to putty.
“I’ll be there,” he managed to stammer. “I’ll make sure nothing bad happens,” he added, hefting his rifle.
Her eyes managed to be frightened, yet brave at the same time. Staring down at his weapon, she probed, “Jimmy, what will happen if they don’t leave? What will happen if they go crazy like all the other grownups or if they’re evil people like that last bunch? We can’t stay down in those caves forever.”
He thought her fear would rip his chest apart, the emotions he suddenly felt almost unbearable. Through a tight throat and dry mouth he replied, “If they don’t head out in a couple of days, then Shane and I and the guys will go kill them. Just like we have all the others.”
Candy seemed to accept that, nodding slightly and gazing back into his eyes. “Be careful, Jimmy. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”
The line of bicycles, wagons, and backpack-laden kids stretched the entire length of the elementary school. Shane stood at the front of the parade formation, like a teacher readying the student body to reenter the building after recess. For a moment, the young man felt a sense of pride as he looked over the rag-tag collection. They were resilient, adaptable… and would survive. He was reminded of the stories an old uncle used to share, sordid tales about the man’s tours in Vietnam.
“The North Vietnamese Regulars moved mountains using only bicycles,” his uncle had said. “They moved heavy artillery pieces up steep hills, and attacked the French at a place called Dien Bien Phu. They moved entire divisions south through the jungle on bicycles. They were a two-wheel army, and we couldn’t stop’em.”
“We may not have much,” Shane whispered to himself. “But sure as shit we have bikes.”
“Everybody is here,” reported one of the older boys.
“Are you sure? Did you count twice?” Shane asked.
The preteen spat on the sidewalk, a rebellious display of discontent over being challenged. “I can count, Shane. Besides, I walked up and down the line twice. There’s 34 of ’em here, just like there should be.”
“Okay,” came the leader’s response. “If you’re sure, then let’s move out.”
Shane assumed the strangers would stay on Indian Ridge, the only high ground for 30 miles in any direction. That’s where Jimmy and the hunting party had found them this morning; that’s probably where they would stay. He had selected a route to the co-op that would keep them mostly hidden from anyone watching from that elevation.
Letting one of the Herbert twins lead the way, Shane stood and watched the procession of children pass.
What a bunch of little rag muffins, he thought, the moving multitude reminding him of what life had been like just a few, short years before.
He had been enjoying the bachelor life, playing the field while hunting and fishing as he pleased. He worked part-time at the co-op in the winter, all the hours he wanted during the harvests. He could weld a little, lift his share of feedbags, and drive any tractor or combine in the county. It had been a good life.
When the financial collapse of the country occurred, only the lack of cold beer had bothered him at first. Since the bank had closed, making the payment on his house trailer wasn’t an issue. No one had electricity, so there wasn’t a bill to be paid. He had well water, plenty of fish and game at his disposal, and a keg in the shed. The apocalypse? No big de
al.
The trailer’s air conditioner didn’t work half the time anyway, so sleeping in the heat didn’t require any adjustment. He had learned to hose down the roof a few hours before sunset, and that seemed to cool the interior enough to doze off.
There was an eight-year-old GMC pickup in the driveway, the body rusted through here and there, but the engine was still strong. The title was in the glove box.
There was plenty of firewood for the smoker and grill out back. He had two good deer rifles, a couple of bird guns under the bed, a .357 magnum pistol in the nightstand drawer. He always bought ammo and cigarettes in bulk, stocking up via his larger-than-normal paychecks from the harvest. The freezer contained zero food, the space entirely consumed with red and white cartons of Marlboros. What more could a man ask?
He’d made one mistake in life, deciding to drive to the Shell Station after running low on ice one evening. He’d had a few beers too many, and evidently it showed. At first, he’d thought the flashing blue lights of the highway patrol officer weren’t meant for him. Pulling to the shoulder to allow the cop to pass by, Shane was a little surprised to see the cruiser pull in behind him.
He’d blown a few points over the legal limit and had been sentenced to 60 days in Huntsville after he’d told the judge he didn’t have enough money to pay any fine. It had changed his life forever.
Still, his lot in Riley, Texas hadn’t been so bad.
Even after the electricity had flickered out, no one living in the small village had been effected much. There was a virtually unlimited supply of food at the co-op, the huge, skyscraper silos full to the brim with corn.
The town had maintained a large tank of gasoline for the water tower’s pump, the provision a result of the destructive tornados that ripped through the Texas Panhandle and neighboring Oklahoma every year. Riley had learned that weeks, even a month or more, could pass before electrical power was restored after the worst of the summer storms tore through.
