Blackout: Still Surviving

by Boyd Craven III

  He pointed, and I turned to look. The lights in the sky were evident as the gentle wind blew an obscuring cloud out of the way. It almost seemed like a multi-colored fog, and I realized that even though we didn’t have any lights on, I could make out the yard between the house and the barn. All the chickens were up for the night. Most had returned to the coop area at Raider’s urging. He was becoming quite the helper. I had to smile, because after my delivery this Friday, I was planning on spending a little bit of time with him and Jessica at the park. There was no room to be bitter, and there hadn’t been any other way to politely enquire about her father without being creepy.

  Right?

  “I’ve never seen anything like it,” I admitted. “At least not in person. On TV…”

  “Is this the kind of thing you buy all that extra food for?” Grandma asked me suddenly.

  I looked down at my shoes. “It’s like you would always say when we were canning. One for you, one for me, one cuz it’s free. This is just some extra insurance in case anything happens. If we hadn’t been able to come up with the deductible for the operation, we couldn’t have gone to the grocery store for a bit and saved up on the money we didn’t spend—”

  “She’s not against the idea,” Grandpa said.

  Raider came over and settled at my feet, and I leaned forward and gave him an ear rub before he put his head down. I thought he was going to snooze, but he kept his eyes open to the sky.

  “Oh, I know. I just… I worry you’d be mad because it’s money I spent, and it’s just sitting there,” I told them softly.

  “Ain’t costing us nothing by sitting there,” Grandpa said. “And if it makes you and your grandma feel better about things, that’s all right. Let me ask you this: if you had just kept all that money instead of buying food-n-buckets, would you have had enough to pay the hospital?”

  “No,” I said, my gaze not meeting his.

  “So you were insuring yourself against hard times. This solar storm stuff… we talked about it at the hospital last night. There was a nurse working third shift. Lordy, I didn’t know they had male nurses nowadays, did you?”

  “Yes?” I said, wondering if it was a joke.

  “You did? Well, he was telling me he was worried that something like what’s going on would disrupt radio transmissions. He said there was something that came through a long time ago before America had a ton of built-up modern gadgets and it fried things out back then.”

  “Yeah? I will admit, I thought about that a little, but you see what it did to your radio? That’s probably it. I’m not really worried about it.”

  “What are you worried about then? Why do you prep? Is that the word?” he asked, and Grandma nodded.

  “To be ready, I guess,” I told him meeting his gaze, “And you never know when hard times are going to hit. Remember that one winter we had to poach us a couple of deer to make ends meet, and then we had bone broth with every meal till you could get your old tank patched or replaced?”

  “I didn’t think you’d be old enough to remember that winter. That was a rough one,” Grandpa said and then made a pained look, his hand going to his abdomen.

  “I told you about the whiskey,” Grandma said, getting to her feet.

  “I know you did, I think it’s some gas.” Grandpa braced his stomach with one hand and the hand on the chair with another and got to his feet shakily, “But if you could make sure I don’t turn turtle on my way to the chamber…?”

  “Sure thing,” I told him.

  “I’ll bring you boys’ stuff in, then have your pup come in with me, so he don’t trip y'all up.”

  “Thanks, Grandma,” I said, putting my glass down and got close enough for Grandpa to put a hand on my shoulder, steadying himself.

  “I should be fine,” Grandpa said.

  “How bad is the pain?” I asked him as we got inside.

  “Hurts worse than I let on,” he admitted.

  “I could see that just by looking at you,” I told him.

  “What, you going to follow me in? Hold my hand while I make my confessional?”

  I snorted and made sure he was able to get to the toilet. I’d put in grab bars on the right wall of the bathroom as well as one on the side of the cabinet near the toilet. With both of them getting older, getting around was harder. Grandpa was right though, I didn’t need to over-help him. He wanted that dignity. It was a small thing, but him admitting the pain was sobering to me.

  “Naw, but you give a holler if you need me or if you bust a stitch,” I shot back.

  “Ah yeah. If I go down, everybody in this holler will hear it. My guts hurt,” he said, letting go and getting one of the grab bars then turning to me. “Got lucky, I had my tonsils and adenoid things out years ago. Most of what they had to cut open on me was small spots to work their scope machines,” he said, using one liver-spotted hand to point to parts of his chest and stomach. “But that one is the biggest. Said I was lucky they didn’t have to cut into my guts. I’d have to poop out of a bag for a while.”

  “I love you, Grandpa—”

  “But you ain’t changing my bag. Get out of here,” he said roughly. “But I want you to know… I appreciate… I mean…”

  “I know, Grandpa,” I said and backed out of the doorway as I heard the front porch door slam shut and heard the running footsteps and the scrabbling of claws as Raider came sliding to a stop next to me.

  “Ain’t doing this with an audience,” Grandpa said, swinging the door shut.

  “You ready for bed?” I asked Raider.

  He let out a low bark.

  10

  I could hear my grandparents murmuring as I rolled out of bed. Foghorn was letting the world know the sun was about to come up, and I heard squabbles as some of the junior roosters fought for the best post that Foghorn liked to sit upon. I had drunk plenty of water before going to bed, so other than a rumbling of an empty stomach I felt pretty good.

  “…I told you, I’m damned proud of him,” I heard Grandpa’s voice as I dressed quickly.

  “…And then you should—”

  I closed walked out the bedroom door, and they both broke off their conversation as I emerged.

  “Any chance you can get the eggs, dear?” Grandma asked.

  “Sure thing,” I told her. “Raider?”

  I heard a thud from my bed and Raider came barreling out of the bedroom, nearly flipping me off my feet. Grandma pushed open the front door as Raider ran outside to do his business.

  “Don’t let him eat my baby,” Grandma called as I grabbed her egg basket off the counter, sliding my feet into my boots.

  “Foghorn is one dirty, mean bas—”

  “Don’t you be sassing about my baby,” Grandma said, using a frying pan to make her point.

  Since I wasn’t sure if I was about to get whacked or not, I scurried out of there. I dodged the girls who came running at me like miniature dinosaurs. I didn’t have the scratch, that was always Grandma, but they knew that Grandpa and I sometimes brought out treats. Plus, they were chickens. Foghorn hopped off his post and started waddling in my direction. I kept an eye on him and crossed the yard and ducked into the henhouse. I was pulling eggs when I heard him. I turned, seeing he had his feathers fluffed out. If that rat bastard bird tried to flog me or spike me, I wouldn’t wait for Grandma, I’d make him stew on the spot.

  Raider started barking, which startled the birds, and I ducked out of the henhouse, a basket full of eggs that had just been laid or had been delayed overnight. I saw a truck I recognized pulling in. I was wearing an old pair of shorts, no shirt, and my boots, nothing else. I felt a little self-conscious but figured anybody who invited themselves down into our holler at sun-up might deserve the eyeful of ugly they got.

  “Hey,” Lester said, rolling down his window as I walked up.

  I saw movement in the doorway and looked. Grandma was closing the door quietly, but I could see she had the black shotgun in her hands pointing down. She’d seen the truck a
nd had done what was usually reserved for Grandpa. When I’d rushed out, I’d seen Grandpa sitting stiffly in a kitchen chair.

  “Hey, yourself,” I said, walking up and feeling the blast of the air conditioning coming out. “What’s got you up and about so early?” I asked as Raider came up, having gone all the way around the truck, sniffing it.

  “I got a call last night that didn’t sit well with me,” he said softly. “You have a run in with Lance’s cousin?”

  “Cousin, nephew, yeah. Raider cornered him, and I caught him sneaking around.”

  “Had the potential to be ugly. Hell, it still might be.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked him.

  “He wasn’t too happy. He thought you had had… a relative at gunpoint?”

  “I actually did,” I said softly, realizing how bad this could be.

  “Well, that doesn’t sit well with some folk, even if the family was snooping and being where they weren’t supposed to be.”

  “So he’s pissed?” I asked.

  “Said he’s looking for more suppliers. Got word to me last night, and we did a meetup. He’s worried you’re not going to be able to keep up with increased demand.”

  “Hey Les, you want some eggs n grits?” Grandpa called from the doorway, breaking our concentration.

  He rolled down the other window and leaned over. “No thank you, glad to see you up. You were just cut on a few days back, weren’t cha?”

  “Ayup,” Grandpa said, “I’m sore, so I’m going to sit back down. Feel free to come in if you want to chew the fat or get you a cuppa.”

  “I’m just moving through.”

  Grandpa waved, and Lester turned back to me.

  “I’m not going to be able to keep up with what he wants,” I admitted to him. “I can put out a lot of product, but it’s kind of at the far reaches of hobby level. I don’t want to build something huge and elaborate.”

  “You know, with his Tonk selling shine, not all my customers are ordering like they used to,” he said softly.

  “How bad would it be if I quit running shine for the Barred Rock?” I asked him. “I just did it long enough to get Grandpa’s surgery done and now it is. He wants to double up production, and I have my doubts about this guy.”

  “Well, you should. Not that he’s gonna turn you in or nothing, but I heard a rumor from somebody last night afterward who overheard Marshall telling one of his boys where y’all’s farm was.”

  I cursed, and he just nodded. “How bad do you think that is?” I asked him.

  “Maybe he’s planning on sending a few boys over to talk some persuasive talk, or maybe he’s going to have you worked over for pulling a gun on his blood.”

  “Shit, out here… he’s damned lucky I didn’t sic old Raider here on him, then shoot him.”

  “You and I both know most country people are like that, but you can’t exactly have the cops crawling all over the place.”

  “Dammit. I’m wanting out, I’ll go back to doing the little bits with Grandpa when he’s healed, but I don’t want to mess around with Lance or his stuff after this Friday.”

  “Still going to do that last delivery?”

  “Yeah. I’ll run your money by Thursday or Friday beforehand.”

  “You got enough for that?” he asked.

  “Not really, but you know how it is. Always try to do the right thing.”

  “Ayup. Well then, how about you run it by to me on Saturday, and you make sure it’s a good payday for me.”

  “I’m going to work on payday, right after the I run these eggs in.”

  “If he sends his boys after you,” Les said, breaking off and looking at the sun which was rising behind me, “I’ll be done with him. What you did was a little rash, but any damn country boy would have done the same. Finding a strange man holed up in his barn, poking through things.”

  “Thanks for the warning,” I said suddenly feeling nervous. “I got a couple days’ worth of stuff to do, and I’ll get in touch after I make the last delivery.”

  “You do that,” he said gruffly, “and I mean you be safe. I want to hear you safe more than I was grouching about being paid.”

  “I know,” I said, offering my hand through the open window.

  We shook, and Raider put both paws up on the open window on the door and barked softly.

  “You’re a good one. Good thing you kept the bad guy cornered, huh?”

  Raider barked louder, sending chickens scurrying away from the truck, unsure of what the four-footed furry guy was saying.

  “I got to run,” Les said, petting Raider on the head a moment.

  “Ok, come on, Raider, let's get some work done.”

  Raider barked and followed me. I gave a quick wave and then headed in the house to drop off the eggs.

  “Right after breakfast.”

  He barked again, happily.

  11

  I pulled into the Barred Rock, my nerves on fire. I had very deliberately told Lance over the phone that I wasn't going to be pressured. I’d broken the unwritten protocol when I’d made that call, but I’d still kept myself safe. A burner phone had been activated, used for the call then disposed of. There was a lot of broken plastic littering the side of the hill heading into town. To say he’d been upset would have been kind. He’d screamed, ranted, threatened. I’d calmly told him that if he wanted the last delivery, he’d calm down. He had.

  He hadn’t apologized for the threats, and I saw a couple of pickups go cruising by the homestead later on that day, big guys with ink hanging their arms out, doing the mean mug face. I wasn’t impressed either.

  “You ready for this, boy?” I asked Raider, and he barked happily.

  “Yeah, that's what I thought, you're always happy. This time, you're going in with me,” I told him, making sure the gun under my shirt was hidden away.

  Not only did I not trust Lance, I didn’t think he would let this last deal go through without either ripping me off or roughing me up. Probably both.

  That was why I’d tucked my M&P Shield, loaded with .45 hollow points, under my shirt when I left the homestead that morning. I might've grown up poor and had to scratch my way to get through college, but I wasn't stupid. It was Lance’s boys who had me feeling so wary. There had been a few cars in the lot, plus Lance’s truck. I didn’t see the same trucks from last night, but I was on the lookout, and there were more parked here than was usual.

  Raider let out a low growl, but he was watching the back door, where I’d parked.

  “I know, boy,” I told him. “Stay on my side like you did running that Marshall kid out of the barn.”

  Raider let out a soft bark, and he bumped the side of my leg with his shoulder. I took a deep breath and looked and saw the twelve buckets I’d put in there hadn’t shifted any. Then I looked back at the door and took another cleansing breath and knocked. Two hard raps, pause, one more hard rap. I heard somebody mumble something from the other side and then I heard a set of deadbolts turn. The door swung open.

  “Who are you?” I asked the guy.

  He looked familiar. Not from last night, but one of those faces I’d seen around. He was younger than me, but big in a hulking ‘his steroids eat steroids’ kind of way. Ash blond hair and a rash of pimples were noticeable. This was a guy who burnt easily, and his nose was peeling where it had been burned the last time.

  “Aaron. I work for Lance. You Westley?”

  “Yeah. Where’s the Bossman?” I asked.

  “He told me to handle it today,” he said, standing in the doorway.

  “Sure thing, pay me and I’ll unload.”

  “Unload, and then you’ll get paid,” he told me blandly.

  “Not how it’s going to work,” I told him pointedly and felt Raider bump my side again, silent despite the growing tension in the air.

  “Oh yeah?” he asked. “How you think it’s going to work?”

  “I’m going to get my happy ass back in my truck, that’s all there is to it, and yo
u can explain to Lance why his delivery went sideways.”

  I turned to leave, and a strong hand grabbed me by the shoulder and spun me around. I instinctively raised a hand to block the sucker punch I knew was coming and was pushed sideways by a mass of snarling fury. Raider had launched himself. The fist that had been coming for my face glanced off my shoulder, spinning me. The pain was immediate, but it was Aaron who started screaming. As soon as I got my footing, I shouted for Raider to stop.

  He’d latched onto Aaron’s wrist and had been shaking it the way a terrier would shake a rat. Streamers of blood ran in rivulets. Upon hearing my voice, Raider let go and ran to me, turning, putting himself in front of me, blocking the two of us. Aaron immediately held his wrist to his chest, hand higher than his heart. I rubbed my shoulder and heard a commotion coming out the doorway. The growls I heard turned even more menacing.

  Three guys plus Lance walked out. All eyes went to a cursing Aaron who was holding his arm to his chest now, blood staining his shirt.

  “What the hell is going on here?” Lance asked, his eyes finding mine and locking on.

  “Your boy attacked me. My dog objected,” I said and then pulled my shirt out of the way of my holster, showing it off a little bit.

  “He… Listen, he wasn’t supposed to rough you—”

  “You said just scare him some—”

  “Shut up,” Lance snarled and that set Raider off on a series of barks, making fake charges at Lance to stop after two steps and then back up again.

  “See, when he queered the deal, I was fixing to just get in my truck and head on out. He decided to get cute and take a swing at me. So if you don’t mind, I’m going to load my pup up and head on out of here.”

  “Wait,” Lance called.

  I had turned, a calculated move, figuring he would either make a move for me or let me go. I was counting on letting me go, but my hand went to the pistol’s grip before I turned.

  “Why should I? I recognize two of these guys,” I said, pulling the compact pistol free, holding it lightly at my side, and pointing down.