Without II: The Fall

by E. E. Borton

  “She kick you out, Henry?” asked Parker, turning to walk with me. “I’m not surprised. That pretty little thing has been giving me the eyeball for years.”

  “You’re too young for her, Parker,” I said, “but I’ll let her know you’re available to move in if anything happens to me.”

  “Fair enough.”

  It was a short walk to my new neighbor’s house. Uncle Perry’s family hated leaving their home of thirty years, but it was too far from the relative safety of downtown. I liked the idea of having them closer so we could look out for each other, especially when I had to leave Kelly alone.

  “Request permission to come aboard!” yelled Parker, through the screen door.

  My Aunt Donna was the first to come down the hall. She was wiping her hands with a towel and wearing her signature bright smile. She loved having visitors, but she was beaming when she welcomed us inside.

  “Good morning,” said Donna, hugging the old-timers. “Perry’s in the back room. Can I get you some coffee?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” said Bruce. “That would be great.”

  “I’ll take a cup as well, if you don’t mind,” said Parker, making his way inside.

  “What?” asked Donna, noticing my sideways smile and stare.

  “You’re having a very good morning,” I said, stepping up for my hug.

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “It is.”

  “Come inside,” said Donna, taking my hand. “I’ll show you why.”

  Sitting at their kitchen table behind a mountain of food was Jack. He looked like a different kid without the layers of dirt and tattered clothing. He was squeaky clean in fresh clothes. He paid no attention to me as I stood in the doorway watching him devour a plate full of eggs and grits.

  “How’s he doing?”

  “He hasn’t said much, but he lit up like a Christmas tree when he saw his breakfast.”

  “So would I. That’s enough food for half the town.”

  “Cut it out,” said Donna, pinching my arm. “It’s for all of you. JD and Tucker are already here. You boys take care of your business and then come sit down with us. I want him to know he’s part of our family now.”

  “I don’t think he’s a fan of –”

  “Not another word,” said Donna. “I know what happened and so does he. He needs to see that we’re not bad people.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I walked into the back room where the men were gathered. My cousin Joey was sitting beside his father. They both looked tired.

  I exchanged handshakes with JD and Tucker and took a seat next to them. As coffee cups were being passed around the room, the Kramer brothers arrived. Doug and Daniel had worked for the Tennessee Valley Authority for ten years and were familiar with the operations at Nickajack Dam. They were the only two people in town who knew how to manually control the floodgates.

  “You’ll leave an hour before sunrise,” said Perry, looking over at Bruce and Parker. “If there’s anyone out there looking to cause you trouble, they’ll be able to hear you, but not see you. I want you rolling as fast as possible. Is everything ready?”

  “It is,” said Bruce. “We sealed up the cabin on the engine and welded steel plates inside the passenger cars. She’s a tank now. She’s a little heavier, but it won’t slow us down much.”

  “Good,” said Perry. “JD scouted up the rail and didn’t see any groups, but that doesn’t mean someone won’t take a shot or two at you. The faster you get them to Bridgeport and steaming back home, the better.”

  “The train’s not going to wait for us?” I asked.

  “No,” said Perry. “The plan has changed. JD didn’t see any people, but he did see an abandoned campsite near the tracks. That train is gonna attract a lot of attention. We can’t leave it unprotected on the rails waiting for you guys to get back. Is that gonna be a problem for you?”

  “No, sir,” I said, leaning back in my chair. It wasn’t like him to be short with me, or anyone. I had never seen him so tense and anxious.

  “That’s why Joey and a few others are going to stay with the train and ride it back here,” said Perry. “We need to have at least a few men onboard that can shoot back if need be.”

  “No way, Pops,” said Joey. “I’m going with them to the dam.”

  “We’ll talk about this later.”

  “No, sir, we’ll talk about this now.”

  “Boy, don’t you ever cross me!” said Uncle Perry, standing. “You heard what I said. You come back on that goddamned train, or I’ll come drag you out of those woods myself. End of discussion.”

  Nobody spoke. He stood for a moment towering over Joey before retaking his seat. I believed him and so did everyone else.

  “My wife put together a fine breakfast for you men, and she wants you all at the table,” said Perry, regaining his composure. “Eat your fill, and I’ll see you at the train tomorrow morning. Thank you for coming.”

  We all stood, but he put up a finger for me to wait. When the others left the room, he walked over closer to me. He looked defeated.

  “Make sure he comes back on that train,” said Perry, looking me in the eyes.

  “He’s a grown man, Uncle. Putting him in his place like that in front of everyone was wrong.”

  “I don’t care. I’m asking you to do this because you’re family. Nobody is gonna look out for each other like family.”

  “Really,” I said, “because I’m family too, but you’re not telling me to come back on that train. You’re also sending a message to everyone else, Uncle. You’re telling them they’re not as important as your son. You’re willing to protect him, but not them.”

  “You’re different, Henry. You, JD, and Tucker are different and you know it.”

  “How are we different?” I asked. “You think it’s easier for us to kill?”

  “I’m not saying that, but I am saying you boys are better at it than most. You’re all faster and shoot straighter than Joey. He’s always trying to prove himself to you and everyone else. You keep your head about you, and you don’t do stupid shit.”

  “Do you remember who you’re talking to? I do stupid shit all the time. I’m famous around here for my stupid shit.”

  “I’m saying you find a way,” said Perry, lowering his head. “You always find a way.”

  “Talk to me, Uncle. What’s going on?”

  He turned and slumped down into a chair. He rubbed his head before looking up at me. His eyes were glassed over.

  “That boy in there eating at my table?”

  “Yeah. What about him?”

  “He was right. I saw the photo in his backpack. I’m the one who killed his father.”

  Chapter 4

  Train Wreck

  We stuffed ourselves with Donna’s home cooking. We did our best to include the new kid into our conversations, but Jack didn’t speak much. Neither did Uncle Perry. He could hardly make eye contact with him. Only in a world like this could a man kill a young boy’s father one day, and then feed him breakfast the next. As if everything around us wasn’t confusing enough.

  “How big was that campsite?” I asked, walking out into the street with JD and Tucker.

  “Three, maybe four people,” said JD. “The coals were still hot in the campfire.”

  “They shouldn’t cause us too much trouble,” I said.

  “It’s not them I’m worried about,” said Tucker. “It’s the fine folks in Bridgeport. We all know we shouldn’t be taking the train.”

  “Perry has his reasons,” I said. “We need to support him.”

  “Those reasons won’t matter if we lose that train,” said JD. “You know he hasn’t been himself lately.”

  “Who around here has?” I asked, stopping them in the street. “We found a family photo, and he’s convinced that he shot that kid’s father. And he’s probably right. That’s been weighing on him since it happened.”

  “That explains him wanting to keep Joey close,” said JD. />
  “What are they gonna to do with that kid?” asked Tucker. “He ain’t a puppy.”

  “He is to Donna,” I said. “I’m not going to be the one to tell her otherwise.”

  “Me either,” said JD, smiling. “Look, you know I’d follow that man anywhere and do whatever needs to be done. I’m just a little concerned he might not be thinkin’ straight right now with all this going on. Us taking that train up there is like walking into a police station with a doughnut. Everybody there is gonna want it.”

  “A doughnut?” I asked, smiling. “Where do you get this stuff?”

  “It just comes to me, brother.”

  “On the bright side, it saves us a ten-mile hike,” I said. “We’ll just have to make sure nobody takes our doughnut.”

  Bridgeport and Scottsboro were the primary reasons we could walk down the street and feel safe. They were our shit screens, but Bridgeport had been taking a beating the past two months. Refugees from Chattanooga were massing on the northern border. On occasion, hunger and desperation would motivate some of them to make a run at the town. So far, all of their attempts had failed. It was taking a toll on the town, and its people.

  When the power went out, so did our ability to communicate beyond a scream. It was as if the world had stopped turning. The biggest fear became the fear of the unknown. We no longer had information at our fingertips. We no longer had the ability to warn or be warned. None of us knew what was around the corner, coming up from behind, or falling from the skies.

  I stood on the sidewalk in front of the clinic. I wanted to take a moment to look around downtown Stevenson before I went inside to see Kelly. There was a slight chill in the air, but nothing unusual for a mid-October morning in northern Alabama. The sky was clear, and there was a slight breeze coming in from the East. If this was the weather event following the light storm, Mother Nature was showing us her softer side.

  “Good morning,” I said, leaning over the receptionist’s counter.

  “Good morning,” said Doc, making a note in a medical record. “How was the meeting?”

  “More like a briefing with breakfast,” I said. “We’re working out the logistics for the Nickajack Dam run. It looks like we’re taking the train to Bridgeport.”

  “The train?” asked Doc, setting down his pen and taking off his glasses. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  “It’ll be fine,” I said. “Parker and Bruce turned it into a tank. As soon as we step off, it’s coming back to Stevenson. We’ll be walking home from the dam. My leg isn’t going to be happy with me.”

  “Probably not,” said Doc, looking over my shoulder.

  “She’s standing behind me, isn’t she?”

  “Yep.”

  “That worked out well,” I said.

  “Your leg isn’t the only thing not happy with you,” said Kelly, walking around me.

  “It’s fine,” I said. “Really, it is.”

  “Five days ago you could barely get out of bed,” said Kelly. “It’s not fine. Tell him, Doc. He seems to listen to you.”

  “There’s no doubt it’s going to hurt,” said Doc, “but the artery has completely healed, and there’s almost no chance that stressing it would reopen the wound. Your biggest problem is going to be cramping or pulling a muscle. If you keep yourself hydrated, you’ll be fine.”

  “Thanks, Doc,” I said.

  “Yeah,” said Kelly, narrowing her eyes. “Thank you.”

  “I know it’s not what you wanted to hear,” said Doc, smiling at her, “but it’s the truth. He’s going to be fine.”

  “I need to prep the exam room,” said Kelly, kissing my cheek. “Mr. Sampson is coming in this morning. I’ll see you at lunch.”

  “Your leg is going to be the least of your worries, kid,” said Doc, after Kelly left.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Call it a hunch,” said Doc, standing and walking to the front door. “Let’s go outside for a minute.”

  “A beautiful day,” I said, closing the door behind me.

  “Look around,” said Doc. “Tell me what you see.”

  “I see people going about their business,” I said, nodding to a couple passing by. “I see Mrs. Jenkins over there walking without worrying that someone is going to kill her for that bag she’s carrying. I see citizens hammering nails and building the wall we desperately need. I see a town that hasn’t been burned to the ground and wiped off the map. Is that what you wanted me to see?”

  “It’s exactly what I wanted you to see,” said Doc. “Bridgeport is going to look nothing like this place. They’re running low on everything, and they’re counting on us to provide for them. The problem is that we’re not going to be able to do that, at least not the way they expected when we made the deal. The bigger problem is that they know we can’t.”

  “You think it’s a mistake going up there,” I said.

  “No, we need to raise the water level in the river,” said Doc. “And it needs to be done now. I’m just worried they’re going to see that train and think it may be the last time that they do. They may want to keep it for themselves.”

  “They want our doughnut,” I said, looking up the street.

  “Our what?”

  “It’s just something JD said after breakfast. He holds the same opinion as you. I’m just not sure how to handle this one.”

  “Because of your uncle?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He’s been under a lot of stress trying to take care of this town,” said Doc. “He’s done an amazing job, and that train has been a symbol of hope for all of us. We can’t lose it. I know what he’s trying to do, but I don’t know if it’s the right decision.”

  “You want me to talk to him?”

  “I do,” said Doc. “He needs to talk to somebody. You’re family. He’ll be more inclined to open up to you than the rest of us. He needs to know he’s not going at this alone. Do you understand?”

  “I do.”

  It’s difficult to think about our future, and it’s damn near impossible to plan for it. It’s not easy trying to retrain your brain to think in the moment. Nobody is saving money for their dream home. Parents aren’t planning their budgets to put their children through college. The hopes of a better life for the next generation died when the power did.

  I know we’re doing better than most. I’ve been out there, and I’ve seen how bad it can get. That was five months ago. I can’t imagine what Atlanta or any other big city looks like now. In my mind, the fact we’ve survived this long is a testament to the internal fortitude of the people of this tiny town.

  Food and clean water has now become the world’s most valuable commodities. If you have them, you’re rich and will live another day. If you don’t, you’re poor and your days are numbered. Everything we do in Stevenson is funneled down into one goal. Produce food and drinkable water. Nothing else matters.

  As Kelly and I sat at my Uncle’s table, the richest woman in town came out of the kitchen. After bowing our heads in prayer and gratitude, plates were loaded. Mine remained empty.

  “You’ve got a busy day ahead of you, son,” said Perry. “You need to eat.”

  “Look at this table,” I said, smiling at everyone. “I eat better now than when I lived in Atlanta.”

  “You didn’t have a Donna,” said Perry, winking at his bride.

  “That’s the truth,” I said, giving her another wink. “We’ve been fortunate.”

  “We’ve been lucky,” said Perry.

  “That too,” I said. “But we’ve all worked our tails off to put food on this table. We’ve had to endure some harsh moments and make some tough decisions. They’re not going to get any easier tomorrow.”

  “What’s your point?” asked Perry, changing his tone.

  “Why are we taking the train, Uncle?”

  “That’s not dinner conversation.”

  “No, it’s family conversation,” I said. “Your son and I are going to be on that train. Most o
f the men going are asking the same question. People in town are wondering as well.”

  “I’ve already told you,” said Perry, setting down his fork. “It’ll do them good seeing it moving again. Especially those folks in Bridgeport. It’s been a while since we’ve taken it up there. I want them to know that we’re still here for them.”

  “No, that’s not the reason,” I said, pushing him. “You know there’s a possibility that they’re going to want to keep it. We’re not going to let them. Why put us in that position at all?”

  “Jack,” said Perry, startling the young boy sitting across from me. “When’s the last time you ate dinner at a table like this?”

  “I-I don’t know,” said Jack, looking down. “I think it was at home with my mom and dad and my sister.”

  “What happened to your mom and sister?” asked Perry. “They weren’t with you at your camp.”

  “Perry,” said Donna, cocking her head and glaring at him.

  “Answer me, boy.”

  “They were taken,” said Jack. “Me and my daddy tried to stop them, but they beat him up really bad and just kept knocking me down.”

  “That’s enough, Perry,” said Donna. “Let this poor child eat his dinner.”

  “What happened after that?” asked Perry, ignoring her.

  “We looked for them for a while,” said Jack, “but things got real bad in the city. People was killing each other everywhere, and then the food ran out. That’s when we left with some neighbors that had guns. We’ve been camping out and walking since then.”

  “We warned your dad and the people with you,” said Perry. “We told them we couldn’t help and they needed to move on to somewhere else. Did you know that?”

  “Yeah,” said Jack.

  “Why did they come back?”

  “My dad said they just wanted to talk to you folks,” said Jack. “Try to get a little food and a place to stay for the night.”

  “No,” said Perry. “They were coming to kill us and take what we had.”

  “That’s not what –”

  “I don’t care what he told you!” said Perry, slapping the table. “They were coming here to kill me and my family. I couldn’t let him do that. Do you understand?”