My thought was; more available women would keep the men away from me. “We can check on the women. The Forest Ranger Post isn’t that far from the ranch. I’d recommend sending anyone but me. I doubt I sit very high on their list of future friends.”
We were nearing the southern edge of Jackson and the number of vehicles on the side of the road increased incrementally. Jeffry slowed to go around a mix-up between a motorized travel trailer and a pickup truck.
Annette pointed to the left ahead of us, “Walmart and Lowes. We should check them.”
Jeffry agreed, “Yeah, on the way back. So far, we haven’t seen a single big-rig except for open cargo beds with industrial equipment and one with rolls of sheet metal. Let’s continue to concentrate on finding a fuel tanker truck. Our fuel situation at the ranch is critical.”
Annette said, “Don’t you miss going on the internet and being able to locate whatever you want?”
“The internet ranks right up there with things I miss since the crap hit the fan. Fast food joints are another.”
Passing by the two stores, I noted how many vehicles there were in the parking lots. “Look at all the cars and trucks. If we go into either of those stores we’ll be right among dead bodies.”
Jeffry said, “We’ll check anyway. What do you two think; if the corpses are totally rotted and dry can we assume they aren’t contagious?”
I gave it thought, “If we don’t touch them we should be safe. We can make masks out of something... maybe your tee shirt.”
Annette went. “Ugg, you can have the armpit part.”
“Well, if the tee shirt only makes two masks, you’ll have to use his underwear.”
Jeffry laughed and said, “You two are insane. I’m keeping my undergarments. We’ll find something else.”
Annette commented on the obvious, “We sure are passing through a mix of businesses. It is hard to imagine all the items on shelves waiting for customers who will never come. Yeah, think about all the materials and equipment in the manufacturing plants, the machines sitting idle. Crap, humans sure fucked up.”
No one replied to her comments because Jeffry braked rather sharply and then shifted into reverse and backed until he was beside a stalled box truck going in the same direction as us. The lettering on the side read, ‘JAY’S RESTAURANT SUPPLY’.
Before opening his door, he said, “You two get out and watch our surrounds. The truck may only have restaurant equipment, but may be carrying food products.”
Holding our rifles, we girls climbed from the truck, easily beating Jeffry to the pavement. Moving away from me, Annette said, “I’ll take the rear and the right side of the dump.”
I moved to take my position at the front. Jeffry eased from the cab, limped to the rear of the box truck and turned out of sight. I heard him and Annette exchange words and then heard the racket she made climbing into the bed of our dump truck.
Jeffry poked his head around the end of the box-truck. “I’m going to force the lock. Annette’s got guard covered. Save me some pain and fetch the pry bar from the cab.”
I retrieved the long pry bar from the passenger’s side floorboard and followed him to the back of the box truck. A padlock secured the rollup door.
Taking the three-foot pry bar, Jeffry inserted the pointed end into the lock and with a sharp, downward yank, the lock popped open.
I removed the lock from its hasp and heaved on the length of strapping centered on the bottom of the door. Easier than I thought it would, the door flew up, slammed the stop at the top and bounced a couple of times on its springs.
Annette observing from the bed of the dump, said, “Jesus, Tempest, next time why don’t you just rip the door off its rails? That was loud enough to hear three states over.”
I ignored her because I was backing away from the stench released from the box truck when the door opened. Jeffry backed with me, saying as he did, “Rotting vegetables, not meat. We’ll give it a minute to dissipate.”
In her high perch, Annette caught a whiff. “Whew… veggie or meat, that’s still a stink.”
There was enough light to show boxes stacked several layers high covering half of the floor of the truck bed. Jeffery said, “From what I can see, this truck has supplies for a Mexican restaurant, dry goods, and boxes of condiments. We’ll want those for sure. Any canned goods as well.”
Annette said, “I love Mexican food.”
I did too, but knowing Preeja, she’d probably work a different sort of magic on the ingredients.
Jeffry went closer to the open truck and sniffed. “It’s already better. We’ll give it another minute and I’ll climb in and slide boxes to the door and you can pass them to Annette.”
I glanced around and said, “I don’t think we need to worry about traffic. Save your leg. Back the truck sideway to the back of this one and you can guard while Annette and I do the loading.”
Jeffry did the same glance around. “It is hard to shed ingrained ways of thinking.” Then he smiled, “At least you didn’t call me a dumbass.”
“Maybe it was implied, left for you to fill in the blank. Oops. You did.”
He laughed again, “There’s the Tempest I know.”
The stink did dissipate to a bearable level. It took an hour to offload the nonperishables onto the dump. When finished, I couldn’t see over the edge of the dump truck bed, but Annette told me it was a quarter full, stacked waist high.
Back in the truck, headed north, weaving through vehicles that either stalled and the drivers let them roll to a stop without leaving the road, or around wrecks, some involving multiple vehicles. Though Jeffry tried to steer around the occasional skeletal remains lying on the road, he did run over a couple.
Passing through a sparsely utilized area between South Jackson and Jackson, in a southbound lane, we did come to a stranded, stainless-steel fuel tanker.
Jeffry stopped beside it. “It’ll either be empty or full.”
“How will you tell?” Annette asked.
“When I rap it with the pry bar, if it sounds hollow, it will be empty.”
Reaching for the pry bar at my feet, I said, “Roll down your window and listen.”
Annette with her rifle followed me from the truck. She stopped to sniff a valve. “Smells like diesel.”
I drew back the bar and hit the side of the tank hard enough for it to sting my hand.
Jeffry shouted, “Do it again, but don’t hit it so hard.”
I gave the tank a moderate tap. Jeffry shouted, “Definitely full. Get back in.”
Back in the truck he said, “Here’s the deal. We need to find a local phone book and locate a company that has a setup for fifth-wheel towing. The trick will be to find one that will crank.”
Annette said, “We have the towing chain. Why can’t we—?”
Jeffry interrupted her. “The tractor hauling the tanker is too new. Without the engine running to enable the powering steering I doubt either of us has the strength to turn the steering wheel.”
I pointed to a freestanding cabinet shop on the far side of the road. “I bet there’s a phone book in there.”
Annette, sitting between us, nudged me, saying as she did, “Let’s check. I have our twelve and nine. Tempest, you’re on six and three.”
Jeffry opened his door. “I appreciate you taking the walk, but I’ll be a sitting duck in here. I’ll find a point where I can see around me. Be careful.”
Besides my rifle, I carried the pry bar. The cabinet shop was set far back from the road. Crossing the open space, Annette said, “Jeffry really has mellowed out. He’s actually likeable.”
I agreed. “Yeah, he grows on you. He’s not so macho that he can’t admit a mistake.”
Annette snorted, “But boy isn’t he macho; Christ, the muscles that man has. I can tell he’s pissed his wound is slowing him down.”
“Yeah well, I hope when it’s healed he doesn’t turn back to being an asshole.”
There were several vehicles in the shop�
�s parking lot, two with open hoods, but no corpses littered the gravel. We found the door locked. Peering through the glass mounted on it, Annette said, “I don’t see anyone, living or dead. I think the place is vacant.”
I said, “Beat on the door just in case someone is in there.”
She beat. We waited. No one came. The flat end of the pry bar popped the deadbolt and we went in.
Glad the odor of rotted meat didn’t greet us, I followed Annette to the lift panel that allowed access to the other side of the service counter. It took her only a moment to locate a phone book.
She spent a moment leafing through it. “There a quite a few listings for what we need. Do you know much about Jackson?”
“Naw, just this road. I came this way a few times with my family. We’ll need a map.”
She closed the phonebook. “We passed a convenience store a mile back.”
“There’s one ahead of us, not far.”
We rejoined Jeffry and informed him of the need for a map of Jackson. Less than a mile brought us to the convenience store I remembered from previous trips.
At the store, we stood at the closed door. Inside near the checkout counter was the shriveled body of a woman.
Jeffry said, “Sooner or later we’re going to have to believe the plague is over.”
Annette said, “She looks dehydrated, like leather.”
Jeffry agreed. “Yeah, and there’s no maggot action.”
It was my belief the plague was finished as far as this store went. The woman had obviously been dead a long time. I said, “Tell you what, I’ll go in and get the map and be the only one to handle it.”
Annette said, “I can be the guinea pig as well as you can.”
Moving around her to the door, I said, “Yeah, but I’ve got a stronger constitution,” and pushed the door open.
Accessing the end of the counter, I did give the woman as wide a clearance as possible. I don’t know why I assumed the maps would be there. Standing at the counter, looking out into the store I saw them directly in front of the counter on the end-cap of an aisle.
Also from the position, I saw what couldn’t see through the store windows; scavengers… looters if it happened against the owners will, had ransacked the shelves. Most of the canned and dry goods were gone as was the candy. In the coolers, the beer was absent, but there were a few cans of soda.
Behind me, the shelves for cigarettes were bare, all tobacco products gone. Someone forced the cash register drawer and took the bills and quarters.
I went to check the maps, found one for Jackson, and then, the image of sodas fresh on my mind, a sugar craving hit me. I went to the coolers. The only ones left was a root beer, several Diet Pepsis and two cans of mango juice.
I went to the door. “I’m having a soda. The root beer’s mine, but your choices are Diet Pepsis or mango juice.”
Annette said, “Are you crazy?”
Jeffry said, “I doubt that the sodas are infectious. I’ll take a mango juice.”
Annette said, “Crap. Get me a mango.”
Jeffry reached a hand. “Give me the map. I doubt it’s infectious either.”
In the parking lot, enjoying our first sodas in months, with the map spread on the trunk of a car, we cross-referenced objectives from the phonebook for location on the map.
Peering over Annette’s shoulder to scan the listings, I reached around her to point. “How about this one; South Jackson Tire and Service, heavy duty towing. It says Highway 45 South Jackson. It has to be nearby.
Jeffry turned to look at the store. Turning back to the map he said, “If the street numbers run north from here, it can’t be more than a half mile to the place. Let’s go.”
The phone listing for ‘The place’ was much more respectable than the place. Everything about the place was dirty, greasy, run-down and old. As soon as we parked, Jeffry left the truck and hobbled over to what looked like a dump truck someone had crudely changed to a big-rig trailer hauler.
With us following him with rifles at ready, Annette, showing caution, began shouting, asking if anyone was there. No one responded.
Jeffry inspected the truck, and then opened the cab to look inside. “For a jack-legged fifth-wheel, it’ll do. The keys are in it, but odds are the batteries are dead. He climbed into the seat and I heard him pumping the fuel pedal. At the turn of the key, the engine turned over a few times and then roared into life. Above the noise of a faulty exhaust system we heard him yell, “Hee, haw!”
He stuck an arm from his window, waved us to join him and shouted, “One of you drive the dump and follow me back to the tanker.”
Annette claimed the driver’s seat. Following Jeffry, she handled the big truck as well as him. At the tanker truck, we gathered while Jeffry explained how to jack the trailer from the rig. It took a blow with the pry bar to knock the keeper bar loose so Jeffry could use the dump to pull the rig away from the trailer.
We disconnected the chain from the two and he expertly backed the rear of his truck beneath the trailer and engaged the hitch.
He turned off his engine and shouted, “Jack it down and let’s take the baby home.”
With Annette again at the wheel, we didn’t go far before, in front of us, Jeffry suddenly changed lanes and drove into the Lowes parking lot. A few hundred feet from the entrance, he stopped and shut his engine.
Annette and I left the dump and met him as he limped to us.
“Let’s check out the building materials and then go next door to the Walmart.”
I asked, “Why’d you park so far away?”
He half frowned and said, “Call me paranoid, but if there’s trouble I don’t want the tanker shot up.”
Annette said, “I doubt bullets can make diesel explode.”
“No, but bullet holes can make it leak.”
I said, “See, dummy. You should think before you speak.”
Annette gave me a middle finger. “Come on, the dump truck can save us a long walk. I’ll drive us closer so ‘gimpy’ can be with us.”
Jeffry gave her a middle finger to match the one she’d thrown me and said, “There may be bodies inside. If they’re as far gone as the one at the store, we’ll go in.”
I pointed to a clothing store that shared the same parking lot. “I’ll run over there and get some cloth to make masks.”
Jeffry said, “Since Annette needs to drive anyway, we can stop by there on our way to the door.”
Annette got her revenge, “See, dummy. You should think before you speak.”
Instead of a finger, I stuck out my tongue.
She shook her head, “You are so immature.”
Jeffry said, “I’m beginning to doubt the maturity of you both. Focus, please, let’s stay frosty. We could be in enemy territory.”
His words had a chilling effect. He was correct, we weren’t on a Sunday outing.
I said, “Sorry. I’m back to earth. Let’s check these places. Let’s try for toilet paper and dog food at the Walmart.”
I found no dead bodies inside the clothing store. Jeffry decided we shouldn’t use the truck, but walk the distance instead.
“It’ll be rough on my injured leg, but we’ll have time to observe the building as we approach.”
With improvised masks, we cautiously moved from vehicle to vehicle, pausing often to scan the store and our immediate surrounds.
Near the building, we stopped behind a pickup with a view through the open rollup door leading to the lumber department. There, Jeffry said, “I don’t see any bodies. I’m going to shout for attention. If I don’t get an answer, I want you two to wait here while I enter the store. Once I’m in, you enter and guard my six and supplement my three and nine as I progress. My limp won’t matter because I have no intention of hurrying.”
He shouted and his voice seemed inadequate for the vast interior of the space. We waited and he shouted again. No one replied to his greeting.
“I’m going in.” He pointed to a stack of OSB plywood t
wenty-five feet away at the near end of a row of lumber stacked on shelves. “I’ll stop at the plywood. If I don’t draw fire, I’ll cover while you join me there and we’ll continue to take it in stages.”
He entered and limped to the stack. Annette and I stepped into the opening with our eyes peeled for movement. Nothing happened. He waved for us to join him.
Annette said, “I believe we have it to ourselves.”
I agreed. “Except for a bird chirping in the roof trusses, this place is a quiet as an old hags tunnel in a brothel.”
Annette punched my shoulder. “Christ Tempest, that has to be the nastiest line I’ve heard from you. Where did you pick that up?”
“From a rap song, ‘Mama can’t sell it’. Billy listened to it all the time. You know… ‘Mama can’t sell, she give it away. I don’t see her night, she sleep at day. They say Daddy deep, he pushing the grass. I training my pipe, reaming the—…, oops, never mind.”
Jeffry said, “Slash Boss, twenty-twenty-four.”
Annette shook her head. “That’s really a song? Jesus Jeffry, how do you know it?”
“A gunny sergeant of mine back was a fan of S.B., he played the album every chance he got. Slash had a way with rhythm that grew on you.”
Jeffry made a decision. “Let’s assume the store is empty at this time. We’ll do a fast walk from here to the main entrance. Stay frosty; eyes everywhere. Once we move, no talking, ears open.”
“What are we looking for here?” Annette asked him.
“We want nothing in particular today. For future potential, we’re checking to see if the inventory is intact.”
She pointed down the row of stacked shelves. “We have plenty of potential here.”
Jeffry agreed, “If anyone has been in here since the bombing, they didn’t take enough to notice.”
I ended the chitchat. “I don’t like being still for long periods. If anyone is around, we’ve giving them too much time to organize. Let’s do the walk through, check out the Walmart, grab the dog food and toilet paper and get the tanker home.”
Tempest of Tennessee (Episode 3): Tempest of Tennessee Page 4
