Tempest of Tennessee (Episode 3): Tempest of Tennessee

by McDonald, Terry

Vicky got the drift. Raking half of it onto the doctor’s plate, she smiled and thanked us. His smile joined hers.

  I spoke while they ate.

  “Everyone from the ranch will be here soon. They’ll stop on the way at the public works to refuel the trucks. After they meet you I’ll join up with em and head back to the Walmart.”

  “What about the tanker full of diesel?” Jeffry asked.

  “Unless it’s changed, they’ll load the dump trucks and bring the tanker to the ranch. They’re getting a late start so I doubt they’ll have time for a second load today. While I’m up that way I’ll use my four-wheeler to scout for a gasoline tanker, I hope a full one. If I find an empty one, we can use a twelve-volt pump and suck gas from a service station tank.”

  Jeffry nodded agreement. “It might behoove us to position several stationary tanks at the farm and make it a standard practice to transfer from station reservoirs to them; save us a lot of running around looking for tankers.”

  Nodding, I said, “We already have a tanker to transport diesel. I’ll try to find one for gasoline. There’s another thing. I met the old man who shoots at people in Henderson… got the drop on him inside the armory warehouse. He—.”

  Doctor Robbins blurted, “You’ve killed someone else?”

  I wasn’t having it. “Shut your mouth until I finish speaking.” Ignoring his bluster, I continued. “I got him to agree to stop shooting at people on the condition we take three small children off his hands. He’s a homeless man I’ve seen wandering Henderson in the past. He claims he isn’t fit to raise em, he’s too into the bottle.”

  I turned my attention back to the doctor. “It would be wise if you allow someone to finish speaking before you jump to a conclusion. You thought you had a ‘got ya’ on me, didn’t you?”

  His face worked and his mouth began to open, but I cut his retort short. “That’s the second time. I hope the next words from your mouth will be an assurance that’ll be the last time.”

  He was going to resist, but Vicky intervened. “Say the words, you old fool. The life you had where you could stand on a bigoted podium and say what you liked is over. In this world, that can get you killed.”

  Jeffry said, “Tempest wouldn’t kill you for that mundane a level of insult, but I’m sure there are plenty of bad-asses out there who would.”

  Vicky looked at me, saw my expression and repeated, “Say the words.”

  I know the words soured his stomach, but he said em. “Please accept my apology. I did leap to an unfounded conclusion.”

  A second later, he burst into crying. ‘M&M with peanut’ sized tears rolled down his cheeks. He covered his face with his hands and mumbled through them. “I am so sorry. I want to blame everything that’s bad on you. I don’t know what to do about anything. I can’t stand this life.”

  If I looked at it in an insane sort of way, what he said sort of made sense to me. To him I said, “Being all alone for months with just your wife made you crazy. After you’re around other people for a while, you’ll get better.”

  Both Vicky and Jeffry burst out laughing, laughing so hard that even the doctor peeked past his fingers to see why.

  Confused, I said, “What?”

  Jeffry managed to squeak, “You just told him that being alone with Vicky for months drove him crazy.”

  I know I turned red. Doctor Robbins dropped his hands and said, “Now that’s a ‘got ya’.”

  Vicky said, “Honey, I’m sorry I drove you crazy.”

  Doctor Robbins made a pretend mad face and said, “Don’t let it happen again.”

  They began laughing again. It was at my expense; it was good, but I was done. “I’m going out to refuel my four-wheeler.”

  Forcing an end to her laugh, Vicky said, “You haven’t had your coffee.”

  “I’ll take it with me.”

  “Jeffry said, “I’ll keep you company.”

  “In fake desperation, Doctor Robbins said, “No please. Please don’t leave me alone with her. I’m almost sane.”

  Vicky reached to give his shoulder an affectionate slap. “Shut up.”

  ************

  The bunch from the ranch arrived shortly after one. The meet and greet with the Robbins’s was rushed. Minutes after their arrival saw us on the road to the Walmart. Included in the caravan of dump trucks were the van and two pickups. All of the dumps had trailers hooked to them.

  In my four-wheeler, I set a fast pace along the now known stretch of highway. Fifteen minutes saw us enter the Walmart parking lot. I stopped several hundred feet from the store and waited for the adults to join me. I saw several children exit the van and disappear behind the dump trucks, figured that they had to empty bladders.

  Speaking to the gathering, I said, “I’m going to the entrance and call for the woman inside. If I figure it’s safe, I’ll wave you over.”

  I drove to the Walmart, but at an oblique angle from the door, parked near it and went to the edge of the open doors.

  I shouted as loud as I could, “This is Tempest. Come out so I can talk to you.”

  A couple of minutes passed. I was about to shout again, but a voice called out, “This is Gloria. Miss Mellon will be here in a few minutes.”

  To ascertain that I wasn’t dealing with a hostage situation, I demanded, “Come out where I can see you; all the way out.”

  Alone, a slim girl with black hair turned the corner of the foyer and came out the entrance.

  “Are you the sixteen year old? What’s the hold up with the teacher?”

  “Yes, I’m sixteen. Timmy, the autistic boy is having a tantrum. She’ll come as soon as she gets him calm. Are you the girl who killed our parents?”

  “I killed your murdering parents. Keep that fact in mind.”

  “Miss Mellon told us.”

  “Good. Go tell Miss Mellon to hurry it up, drag the boy with her if she has to. I need to talk to her before the rest of us come over.”

  Standing taller than I do, she said, “You don’t look as scary as Miss Mellon said you did.”

  “Scary doesn’t always look scary, but it can still kill you. Go get her.”

  My words scared her enough to get her moving. Five minutes later Miss Mellon called to announce she was coming out. She came, pulling a squirming teenaged boy by his hand. Trailing behind them was the rest of the children. Gloria held a baby in her arms.

  The teacher approached to within feet of me. “One of the men on the docks wasn’t dead when you left. He managed to crawl inside the store and halfway to the office. I couldn’t do anything for him. We spent half the night listening to him screaming and crying until he died.”

  I didn’t care. To her I said, “He was a tough one. I gave em all a head shot before I left the dock.”

  She shuddered. “Yeah, his head was bleeding and so were a dozen other places on his body.”

  I pointed to the caravan of vehicles at the far front of the parking lot. “I’m going to wave those people over. They won’t harm any of you. In fact, they’re determined to take you and the children along with them back to our ranch. They feel responsible because I killed most of you all and took away your protection.”

  She gazed in the direction I pointed. “Are they decent people?”

  “As opposed to the ones that were here, they’re saints.”

  “I’m going to need time to get the children ready, clothing and such to take with us.”

  “It’ll take a long while to load our trucks. Are there any running vehicles here?”

  She pointed to vehicles parked in slots nearby. “They had several.”

  I glanced at the assortment of vehicles in the area and asked, “Is that travel trailer one of them?”

  “Yes, I believe so.”

  “Do you know how to drive?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “That’ll be your ride. Check it out to—.”

  She nodded to the silent boy trying to tug his hand free. “Will you do it? Can’t you see I have
my hands full?”

  To Gloria I said, “Do you know how to drive?”

  “I can drive, but I don’t have a license.”

  “And you never will have one because you’ll never need one. Give the baby to someone else. Find the keys for the Winnebago. See if it’ll crank and how much gas it has.”

  She looked to Miss Mellon for permission. I cut that off. “Girl, don’t look at her. Do what I said.”

  I could tell she wanted to rebel, but she didn’t, she turned, handed the baby to a brown-hair girl and went to the travel trailer. I waved the ‘all clear’ to the convoy.

  The trucks pulled into a line fronting the store. I went to the dump that Jules was driving. He climbed from the cab and the other drivers soon joined us.

  I waited until they settled in and said, “The back deck is covered with blown up bodies. There’s a corpse inside that needs removing. Vikas and I have lost count of how many bodies he and I have disposed of.

  “In fairness, the rest of you should have that detail… men and women. I’m sure we’ll make many trips over the next few days hauling stuff from here and from the Home Depot next door. I suggest tying a rope to their legs and dragging them far enough away that we don’t smell the stink of them rotting. Use the loader for that job.”

  Vikas, a man of men, said, “It is a job that needs doing. I will help.”

  I nodded to him. “Show em how it’s done. All of you stay alert and prepared. I killed the perps here at the Walmart, but this area was more densely populated than Henderson was. Another thing, keep in mind that the main city of Jackson is only a few miles farther to the north. Unfriendly’s may show up. Be prepared to deal with them.”

  Preeja asked, “What are you saying… will you not be with us?”

  “No. I’m going to scout for a gasoline tanker to complement the diesel tanker we’ll haul to the ranch. The diesel tanker is over in the Home Depot parking lot ready to roll.”

  I could tell Preeja didn’t like my plan, but she handled it. “Excuse me. I must don the pistol and holder. As a fool, I have left it in the truck.”

  She wasn’t the only one who was down heartened at my announcement about leaving, but Jules stepped to the plate.

  “We have enough people bearing arms to discourage any transgressors. The older children can keep watch while we load.”

  *******

  I topped off my gas tank from a container and headed north toward Jackson. I was covering a stretch of Highway 45 not yet driven by us. Minutes later, passing by a feed store, I braked, made a U-turn and went to check its inventory.

  I followed my usual protocol, parked far from the entrance and approached with caution. As I went, I looked for signs of anyone’s presence and for freshly killed corpses.

  At the door, I paused to shout and observe. Inside I found not a single corpse, nor any disturbance of the merchandise. The store was high-end and carried high-priced merchandise, clothing, boots, and horse paraphernalia.

  Walking the aisles loaded with items unaffordable by the likes of me, it struck home that for now, anything I wanted was mine for the taking. At the same time, I knew that nothing lasts forever. If I somehow managed to live to an old age, time and the elements would take their toll on manmade items.

  I remembered Billy’s numerous expositions on the subject. “In a situation where the population is decimated, severely reduced, it will not take long for human edifices to deteriorate and fail; some things faster than others. The basic infrastructure will go fast, water supply, and electric.

  “Main roads will take longer to become unusable, but tree roots, fallen trees, failed drainage culverts along with invasive weeds and seedlings will quickly render secondary roads impassable.

  “The multilane freeways and highways will take longer to succumb, as will dams and bridges, but give it thirty years and many of those will have suffered major damage.”

  “Wood framed houses will rot. Roofs of businesses will collapse. That will open their contents to the elements and destroy what was inside them. Kiss canned food and clothing goodbye.”

  In Billy’s opinion, everything associated with modern life would be gone or useless within fifty years. Because he went into depth as to the whys, I firmly believed what he predicted.

  Looking at the quality goods surrounding me, I thought, ‘ what the heck’ and took an extra half-hour to dress in well-made jeans, a heavy cotton blouse and a pair of cowgirl boots cushioned with thick socks. I left my clothing on the checkout counter in exchange.

  Of course, I did shopping beyond my immediate clothing. While wandering the store, I’d made mental notes of the beehives, bat nesting boxes and a host of other items that would be useful to us at the ranch…. We had another place to raid for supplies.

  Three miles farther along the highway, passing through an industrial stretch with buildings far apart I came upon a strange sight. Ahead of me, on the opposite side of the four-lane I saw a pack of dogs barking and circling a large oak tree about twenty feet from the road.

  Drawing closer, I saw an overturned bike and trailer near the tree. Scattered around them were cans and boxes of food that spilled from the trailer.

  A raccoon wasn’t what the dogs were after. Closer still, I made out a dark-skinned teenage boy perched on a fat branch just out of reach of the leaping dogs.

  I stopped, took my AR from its Velcro stays, put the head of the biggest dog in my sights and pulled the trigger. The mongrel fell, as did the next dog I targeted. The rest of the pack, maybe six, turned tail and skedaddled.

  “You in the tree,” I shouted, “you can come down now.”

  “”You’re not going to shoot me?”

  That was a fair question, had been ever since the Southern block had declared independence from most federal laws. Most brown people left the state, those who stayed lived a precarious life, one where it was best not to speak or talk to a white person, but if the situation made it unavoidable, that person had better show a subservient attitude.

  “I shouted back, Naw man, I don’t have any reason to shoot you. Come on down.”

  He came down, tall, lanky, and well dressed. On the ground, he fastidiously brushed bark from the seat of his pants. I called for him to come closer.

  “Lower the barrel on your rifle and I will.”

  “Sorry.” I lowered the barrel. I hadn’t meant to keep the rifle pointed in his direction.

  He stopped ten feet away and said, “Thank you for running the dogs off. I’m lucky they came when I was close to a tree to climb.”

  Confused about one point, I asked, “Where are your weapons?”

  “I don’t have any. My father says an armed black man in these times is a dead black man. It’s easy enough to stay out of sight when I’m out for food.”

  I didn’t mince words “That’s the damnedest, stupidest survival tactic I’ve ever heard told.”

  He didn’t take offense. With a slight smile, he said, “I agree, but that’s my father’s rule.”

  “How old are you?”

  “I’m fourteen. How old are you?”

  I almost said sixteen, but it dawned on me that the chaos of the apocalypse had let Christmas and my birthday slide by unnoticed.

  “I’m seventeen.”

  “You don’t look seventeen.”

  Sharp toned, I said, “Well I am. How many are in your family?”

  “My father told me not to answer any questions from strangers.”

  “What instruction did he give for if the stranger threatened to kill you if you didn’t answer?”

  “In that case, I could answer.”

  “Okay, pretend like I’m going to kill you.”

  He gave me another half-smile. “Since you made it clear, there are seven of us, Mother, Father, my sister, three years older, a brother a year younger, and two more girls, twelve and ten.”

  “Thanks for making me not kill you.”

  This time it was a full smile. “You’re weird. What are you doing out?
If I were you, I wouldn’t keep going the way you’re going. Jackson is dangerous… it’s a good place to be killed. They might not kill you though. They’d want you for other things.”

  “Yeah, I can guess what those ‘other things’ are. How far do you live from here?”

  “Not far.”

  “If I were to visit your place, would I be safe?”

  “Mom and dad wouldn’t hurt a flea if it was biting them. Why?”

  “Most people aren’t a danger to you, but sooner or later, you or all of you all are going to run into the wrong people and they’ll kill you just because.”

  He didn’t contradict me. “I know it’s only a matter of time. So do my parents.”

  “Well, let’s go see em. If we hurry, there may be enough time for you all to join up with my friends. You’ll be safer with us.”

  In a doubtful tone he asked, “Your friends won’t mind us joining with you?”

  Semi-joking, I said, “If they do, it’ll be them lined up in my sights. No, there won’t be any objections.”

  “Where will we be moving to?”

  “To a ranch on the other side of Finger.”

  Puzzled, he asked, “What is Finger?”

  “Yeah, that’s a weird name for a town.”

  “Do you have horses?”

  “Not yet, but they’re on our ‘get’ list.”

  “You can talk to my parents, but I don’t know if they’ll agree to move in with a group of strangers.”

  “It won’t hurt to ask though, will it? What’s your name?”

  “Melvin Freeman. Everyone calls me Mel.”

  “I’m Tempest; Tempest of Tennessee. Everyone calls me Tempest. Let’s gather your food and I’ll follow you.”

  The Freeman home was about a mile away. I followed Mel to a road off the 45, and then a few turns took us to a subdivision of small homes. ‘Cedar Garden Estates’ the entrance sign proclaimed, was a single street cud-de-sac of about twenty homes that looked like the same builder built them all from the same set of plans. He stopped in front of the house at the center of the cul-de-sac… the only one with a mowed front yard.

  He got off his bike and waited for me to stop beside him. I pointed to his yard. “Nothing like putting up a billboard that says, “Someone lives here.”