by E A Lake
Ted and I decided to take the cat litter back home first. The entire neighborhood would benefit from the reduced odors. I hoped we had enough to do the job, as forty pounds wouldn’t go very far. I wasn’t sure we had enough cash left to buy much more. We would pool the crowd later and collect any cash people would be willing to contribute.
We put five pounds of the litter in everyone’s trashcan. It wasn’t perfect, but it cut the smell tremendously. We still had five pounds for each can for later. Maybe Ted and I could come up with more cash or another idea to keep the smell down before venturing back out to the store. Ted set out to research the subject in any book he might have. That was fine. It kept Ted busy for a while and out of my way.
Buddy was okay by himself, so I rode up to City Hall to look for new postings. The only change on their door was the fact they took down the old sign. Nothing new, nothing at all, was on the door.
A nice older woman stared at me staring at the blank door. She looked at me for answers. “I suppose this means they’ve given up?”
“I don’t know what it means. At least we know someone has been here in the past 24 hours. Maybe that’s a good sign.” I tried to give her a nice smile, but she frowned and looked again at the door, only down this time. There, lying on the ground was the paper someone posted a week ago. The tape must have let loose. I shook my head.
“I wonder what we’re supposed to do? What we should be doing? What we might need to prepare for?” The nice woman with snow-white hair sighed deeply when she finished.
I wished I had words of encouragement for her. “I’ll be honest, I’m starting to worry a little bit, ma’am.” I looked down at her. I’m almost six feet tall. She was a good nine inches shorter than me, and rail thin. “Most of the police are up by the bank and grocery store. I’m afraid if they weren’t there, those places would get looted. That doesn’t leave much for the rest of us.” She slowly nodded as I spoke. “I suppose our city officials are home taking care of what’s theirs. Just like the rest of us. I don’t know why we’d expect them to be any different. Especially if they weren’t sure about what’s happened.” My usual optimism dwindled. I wasn’t feeling so confident any more, how could I convince anyone else to be positive?
The older woman left quietly. She didn’t have anything to add. Unlike before, there were very few people coming to City Hall for information any more. I felt most had given up on their government. How long could I hold out? As I rode home, I thought more of my food supply. I still had enough, but for how long? I had a month of food, maybe two, but certainly not much longer. I needed a food source for the future, one that could last a long time. I suppose I needed a garden but at this time of year? It was too late to plant anything. I wasn’t even sure I could find seeds anywhere. And what would I do for meat after that?
Once back home, I grabbed a warm beer and plopped down on the back porch to think. Buddy nuzzled nearby, and I felt a little better. Man’s best friend was still around, that helped. We were in trouble here. It was as plain as the nose on Buddy’s black face. Food couldn’t last forever, who knew how much clean water was around, sanitation was a joke, and it was obvious now that we were alone and on our own. Surrounded by what was once everything we could ever need, we now saw just how little we all possessed.
Two nights later, the heat gave way and we were in the middle of a nice rain shower. The time was late, after 1 a.m., when through my open bedroom window I heard glass break somewhere nearby. I crept out of bed and made my way to the front of my house facing the cul-de-sac. I thought that was the direction the sound had come from. As I peered into the darkness, I saw bits of movement by a front window of Winston’s place. It appeared that we had someone trying to get in that house, for whatever reason. I needed to stop this crime; I needed a weapon.
I stumbled into the dark garage. I wished I had grabbed my flashlight by the bed before I headed down here. I felt my way past the car over to where we kept Dustin’s t-ball equipment. I knew there had to be a bat over here somewhere. I stubbed my foot on the lawn mower and practically fell. This was a real mess. Finally, I reached down and felt the handle of a bat. This would have to do. I didn’t realize until I was back in the house I had grabbed a plastic bat. I heard more glass break. I’d have to make do with what I had.
Outside was as black as night can be. I crept across the street and stood at the curb in front of Winston’s place. I could make out three, then four, people attempting to get into his front door. Bravely I called out.
“Out kind of late aren’t you fellows?” I got their attention alright. The apparent leader spun and approached me with the other three in tow. They looked to be 14 or so, young men.
“There ain’t nobody home here, old man. So why don’t you go back inside and mind your own business?” This was a confident lad.
“This neighborhood is my business. Why don’t you leave and go somewhere else?” I stood my ground bravely. As brave as a man with a plastic bat deserved to feel. Several of them appeared to have knives.
The leader laughed at me. “Well, we need food. Or something decent we can trade for food. And since those people aren’t home, we figure they won’t mind helping us out. Don’t make this rough, pops. Get lost.” He took another step towards me, studying the bat in my hand. I hoped in the darkness it looked dangerous.
“Beat it kids. With this bat I can take all four of you on at once. And I bet I’ll win. And you’ll be all beat up then and sulk away with your tails between your legs. If you need food, go to the grocery store.” I could see their faces better as my eyes adjusted to the dark. They didn’t look too scared. They looked desperate more than anything.
The leader shook his head at me. “First off dude, cops are at the grocery store. So we ain’t getting in. Second, no moola you see. So again, we aren’t getting in. But most importantly that’s a whiffle ball bat. What you gonna do, spank us?” They all laughed. “So crawl back over to your house and leave us alone, and we’ll be gone as soon as we get what we need. Okay old man?” All four moved closer. I heard a sound from behind that refocused their attention.
“Well, this is a real shotgun.” It was Jim. He racked a shell into the chamber. He had their attention. “And it has a habit of going off when I pull the trigger.” The safety snapped off loudly in the stillness of the situation. “So why don’t you get your teenaged butts out of here before we have to clean up a bunch of blood?” Jim pointed the shotgun at the formerly brave leader. The young punk spit and looked down the barrel of the weapon pointed at his chest.
“Great, John Freaking Wayne arrives. Just perfect.” He spit again. “Dudes, we’re hungry. We haven’t had anything to eat in three days. We just want food, no trouble, just food.” Finally, he seemed to be the reasonable one.
“Go find it somewhere else kid. Not here.” Jim spoke as dryly as I’d ever heard from him. He was John Wayne.
One of the pack spoke from behind his leader. “Come on Ronnie. Let’s get out of here. Not worth getting shot over.” The true voice of reason finally spoke.
Ronnie nodded. “Sure, why not? Plenty of other places empty down the road I bet. Let’s let Batman and Robin protect Gotham here. Idiots.” He spit one last time and turned to leave with his band of thieves. I breathed for the first time in two minutes.
Jim’s large hand patted my right shoulder as he spoke. “That was stupid, Bill. You need a gun.” He had a valid point.
“Sharon never wanted guns in her house, Jim. Her rule. Maybe tomorrow morning I’ll go over to Scott’s place and check out what he may have left behind.” I went back home. I could see Jim sitting on his front porch a half hour later.
Chapter 9
