He zipped back to the main gate. Valentine waved at the other guards, urging them to get out of the way and let him through.
“Baxter is not going to be happy about you giving away food,” one of them said. “It will only make things worse.”
“You think I’m fucking stupid? I’m not giving away food,” Valentine barked at them. “Now get that car out of the way!”
One of the guards reluctantly started the sheriff’s department vehicle and moved it out of the way. Valentine hit the accelerator, heading straight for the crowd. They leapt out of the way, cursing and yelling.
About a hundred yards outside of the gate, Valentine stopped and dragged the cooler off the golf cart. By this time, the protestors and guards were both watching him, unsure of what was going on. He left the cooler sitting in the road while he drove back to the gate and shot through, then the other guard returned the patrol car to its position.
“What’s that all about?”
“You’ll see,” Valentine replied to the inquisitive guard. He climbed up on top of a car hood and faced the crowd. “There’s your fucking food. Take it and get the hell out of here.”
The crowd raced off toward the cooler, shoving and tripping each other.
“Give me that rifle,” Valentine told one of the men. It was a bolt-action with a scope.
“You can’t shoot them,” he said. “You gave them the food. You can’t shoot them for taking it.”
“I’m not going to shoot anyone,” Valentine replied. He crossed his heart. “I promise.”
He hesitantly handed the rifle over to Valentine, who laid it across the hood of one of the cars and sighted the scope on the cooler.
“You said you wouldn’t shoot anyone,” a guard reminded him.
“I’m not,” Valentine replied, monitoring the racing mob through the scope. “I didn’t say anything about not shooting the cooler though.”
The guards looked at each other, frowning and trying to figure out why he would want to shoot the cooler. When the crowd reached the cooler, there was more shoving and fighting. There must have been twenty people who reached it at the same time. They pounded on each other, trying to get a hand on the cooler and drag it off. Valentine smiled. Then he pulled the trigger.
The boom of the .308 was loud in the quiet town, then the round hit the cooler and detonated the Tannerite. It was an explosive rifle target sold for recreational use. In small jars, it made a satisfying BOOM when you hit it. If you taped jars together, it detonated all of them. In quantity, such as the forty pounds packed into the cooler, it would blow apart bodies. The explosion shook the ground and shattered a nearby streetlight, wreaking havoc on the poor souls wrestling for the cooler.
“What the hell?” a guard shouted, yanking the rifle from Valentine’s hand. His face was red with anger.
“I didn’t shoot anyone,” Valentine said.
“Baxter is going to be pissed,” he said. “This is messed up.”
“I bet we won’t have any beggars at the gate tomorrow,” Valentine said.
The other guards stared at the devastation. Some of the injured were running or walking away, leaning on others for support. Some writhed on the ground, stopping only as they bled out. Others lay in pieces, killed instantly for the promise of food.
“I always wanted to try that,” Valentine said.
The guard whose rifle Valentine used, turned it on him. “I can’t believe you did that!”
Valentine stared coldly at him. “Think carefully about where you’re pointing that rifle, son. You may not be willing to pull the trigger but I’m more than willing to shove that damn thing in one end of you and pull it out the other. You think about that.”
The man stared at Valentine for a long time, then dropped the gun. Valentine got back in the Humvee without a word and drove off.
Chapter 28
The Valley
Jim settled Randi’s family into a house on a stretch of road between him and Gary. It was a white frame house that had belonged to an older couple, the Robinsons, who had been killed by the released convict that had wreaked havoc in the valley until Jim killed him. It appeared the couple had been beaten to death to obtain drugs, since pills were found scattered all around the home when the bodies were discovered. The convict had gone through every bottle of pills in the house, dumping those that he had no use for into the floor.
The house was older, well-maintained, and neat. It had a well, there was a creek that passed through the backyard, and a spring nearby for drinking water. There was an overgrown garden and several fruit trees. Like most in the valley, the house had a woodstove that could help a family survive the coming winter.
It had been grim work burying bodies that had been left laying in the house for several days in summer heat. Jim had stopped by and left the windows open in that house whenever the weather permitted to try to purge the smell. He had anticipated there might be a day when the house was needed again. Despite a vague hope that Randi would rejoin them, he hadn’t expected it and certainly not this soon. There was no denying, though, that having a nurse among them was a benefit.
On her first day in the house, Randi and her daughters were gathering up the old couple’s belongings and storing them in the attic when they heard a knock on the door. Randi answered it with a gun in hand, finding Gary standing on the porch, an AR slung over his shoulder.
“Well good morning,” Randi said.
Gary held up a thermos. “I brought you some coffee,” he said. “I wasn’t sure that you had any.”
Randi’s eyes lit up. “We don’t. We’ve got some canned food and a few things that were here in the house. No coffee, though.”
Gary handed the thermos over. “You can use the cup on the thermos. I’ve already had some this morning. Do your girls drink coffee?”
“Not if they don’t know about it,” Randi said. She gestured at the porch swing. “Have a seat.”
Randi sat, unscrewed the cup off the thermos, and poured the cup full. She held it under her nose, letting the warm smell waft into her nostrils. “God, I’ve missed that.” She took a sip.
“I have to admit I brought that as a bribe,” Gary said.
Randi looked at him over the cup. “For what?”
“I’d like you to talk to my daughter Charlotte,” he said.
“Have I ever met her?”
“Probably not,” Gary said. “She lost her husband a few days ago. I don’t know how much you’ve heard. We were basically run out of my neighborhood. It was an indefensible location and it became clear we would never survive staying there. All the preparation I put into the place was basically for nothing.”
“I’m sorry that happened,” Randi said. “I kind of know what it feels like to be run out of the place you dreamed about the entire time we were walking home. It’s a sick feeling.”
“It pisses you off. I kept telling myself that I was saving what was important—my family,” Gary said. “The night before we came here we got hit by a group that had been antagonizing us and they killed my son in law. It was awful.”
Randi didn’t know what else to say.
“I’m sorry I’m going on about this,” Gary sighed. “I know you lost family too.”
“My parents and a brother,” Randi acknowledged. “I’ve got another brother still out there.”
“Well, the reason I came over is because I’d like you to take a look at Charlotte. She’s been suffering a major depressive episode since he died. She has kids and she can’t take care of them or herself. All she does is lie in the bed and cry or stare at the wall. It’s like she wants to die.”
“That’s awful.”
“We’ve had her on suicide watch since we got here,” he said. “My wife and daughters have to stay with her constantly. They’re afraid she’s going to try something. Last night my wife was making her bed and found a steak knife under the mattress. We think she was going to try to kill herself with it.”
“I’m sorry,” Randi
said. “What exactly do you want me to do?”
“I’ve got things I can trade for medication. I’d like an idea of what I might be able to give her in order to try to stabilize her mood. If I knew what medication I needed, I could start getting out and looking for it.”
“There are common drugs like Zoloft and Wellbutrin that should be easy to find,” Randi said. “Then it’s a matter of keeping her stable until the drugs reach a therapeutic level in her system.”
Gary nodded. “I can remember that, and I’ll start putting out feelers for them. There may even be someone in the valley with those sitting around.”
“Sometimes antidepressants were prescribed in conjunction with smoking cessation meds like Chantix,” Randi said. “Ask about that too. There may be people who received other antidepressants that would work as well.”
Randi took another sip of her coffee. Gary busied himself with the sling on his AR, flipping it one way, then the other. He was either nervous or wasn’t finished.
“There something else?” Randi asked.
Gary looked at her, his eyes pleading. “Will you try to talk to her? We’ve all tried and none of us can reach her. Maybe a new face, a new approach, can do some good. We’re about at the end of our rope. We’ve run out of things to try. I worry every night that we’re going to find her dead in the morning.”
“You start by looking for those meds I mentioned,” Randi said. “Check with folks in the valley first. I’ll go talk to her this afternoon.”
Gary sighed with relief. “I appreciate that more than you could know.”
“You and Jim got me home,” Randi said. “I appreciate you all very much. I feel like we’re practically family now.”
“Jim’s daughter says we’re a tribe,” Gary said.
“That could be true,” Randi replied after a moment. “We’re more than a family.”
“Well, thank you,” Gary said. “I’ll tell my wife you’re coming by, just in case I’m not there when you come.”
“Tell her I will need to talk to Charlotte alone. It’ll be easier to establish a therapeutic relationship if we can speak freely,” Randi said. “Is that a problem?”
“I’ll make sure it’s not,” Gary said.
Chapter 29
The Valley
A dog barked at Randi as she walked down the gravel drive to the house Gary was staying in. She didn’t know if it was his family’s dog or if it came with the house. It was always possible that the dog, like the rest of them, was here seeking refuge from the crumbling world. The dog walked beside her the entire length of the drive, not showing any aggression, though loudly announcing her presence. Everyone had to pull their weight and announcing folks was the dog’s job.
Gary’s daughter Sarah came out to greet her. The rhythmic squeaking of metal on metal drew Randi’s attention and she saw three young girls on a swing set in the overgrown yard. It was not joyful play. There were no smiles. It was the swinging of bored, sad children. It tugged at Randi’s heart.
“Those are Charlotte’s babies,” Sarah said. “We’ve tried to keep them busy and distracted. Jim’s daughter Ariel has been playing with them, and the Weatherman girls from across the road come down here a lot.”
“No replacement for a mother,” Randi said.
“I know,” Sarah said. “At that age, they want her every night and she ignores them. They cry for her and it’s like she doesn’t even hear them. It’s enough to break your heart.”
“Did Gary tell you I want a chance to evaluate her alone?” Randi said. “If you guys are in there, it can affect the dynamic of the assessment. I need to encourage her to respond to my questions.”
Sarah burst out with a sarcastic laugh. “Good luck getting her to respond to anything. We’ve all tried. She’s not snapping out of it.”
Sarah glanced back at the house, making sure no one else was looking. “I know this sounds awful. It’s just that this situation is bad enough without having to babysit her too.”
Randi nodded. “I’ve already got your dad out looking for medication,” she said. “Even if she won’t talk to me, maybe she’ll take the meds if we can find them and we can get her leveled out.”
Sarah shrugged as if she weren’t so sure, yet she led Randi into the house. It was a typical brick ranch from the 1970s, minus the shag carpeting and paneling. There were boxes stacked all over the place as the family tried to deal with reducing three households into a single, smaller house. The house was stuffy inside. The narrow windows didn’t do much to release the heat building up in the house during the day. It was a reminder of how spoiled folks had become with air conditioning.
A woman greeted them in the hallway. It was Gary’s wife, Debra, and Randi had never met her before. The two women exchanged awkward greetings, then Debra took Randi back while Sarah returned to the yard. Debra opened a door and led Randi into a smallish bedroom. The room smelled stale, of unwashed body and dank sheets. Despite the heat, a young woman lay in bed with blankets pulled up to her neck. She might have been attractive under other circumstances. Right now her hair was matted and her clothes rank. Her eyes were open and she stared blankly at the wall. Randi had a brief flash of the movie The Exorcist. She was Father Merrin meeting the possessed child, Regan.
“I apologize for her condition. We’ve tried to bathe her...” Debra shook her head. “She’s dead weight. She won’t do anything for herself.”
“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” Randi said. “Just leave me alone with her and let us talk.”
“I don’t know how much talking you’ll get done,” Debra said. “If you’re okay staying with her for a little while maybe I can take the kids down to the creek and let them play in the water for a few minutes? They need to get away from this house.”
“That would be fine,” Randi said, smiling. “They’ll enjoy that.”
“I’ll be back in a few minutes, Charlotte,” Debra called to Charlotte, who gave no response. Debra backed out the door and gently closed it behind her.
Randi went to the window and looked out at the kids on the swing set. Debra wasn’t out there yet and they continued their glum swinging, the metal chains screeching with each arc. “You have beautiful children.”
Charlotte had no reaction.
“How long has it been since you’ve held one of them?”
No answer.
“They need that at this age. They need the reassurance of being held. They need to know they can go out and experience things and still return to the safety of their mother. It’s part of their social development.”
Nothing.
“My grandchildren are around that age, and I can’t go very long without holding them. I miss it too much. I’ll have to bring them up here to play when we get settled.”
Still no reaction. Randi was getting angry. This was a mother she was talking to, one who’d lost her bond to her children.
“Have you even looked at them lately?”
Again, nothing.
Randi went to the bed. She leaned forward and stroked Charlotte’s hair. Charlotte didn’t acknowledge the contact. Randi could hear the screeching chains in her head. Could picture the sad faces of those children. She grabbed a fistful of Charlotte’s hair and violently pulled the girl from the bed and onto the floor.
Charlotte reached for Randi’s hands, trying out of sheer reflex to pull them loose as she was dragged across the floor by her hair. Randi stopped in front of the window. She leaned down to Charlotte’s ear. “You can stand up under your own power or I will lift you by the fucking hair,” she hissed. “Do you understand me?”
There was no reaction. Randi started lifting by a fistful of hair and Charlotte gave in, scrambling to get her feet under her. She stood under her own power. Randi kept hold of her hair, shoving Charlotte toward the window.
“You look out there,” Randi said through clenched teeth. “You see those fucking kids?”
No response.
Randi hauled back on Charl
otte’s hair again. “DO YOU SEE THEM?”
Charlotte made a whimper in the affirmative. Randi held her head in front of the window, making her watch. “Those kids lost both parents because you can’t get your head out of your ass. They need you. No one else. You! You may feel like a sorry piece of shit right now, but you’re the only mother they have.”
Outside, Debra and Sarah rounded up the kids and began leading them off. Randi pushed Charlotte away from her. The young woman clattered against the wall, her face pressed against it. She slid down it starting to cry, smearing tears in a descending trail.
Randi leaned over, her hands on her knees, her head close to Charlotte’s. “Those tears better be for your children because there are going to be no more for your husband. I hate that this happened to you but you need to get your shit together. I was with your dad and Jim in Richmond. That trip was a shit sandwich. No matter how bad things got we could only think of one thing—our children. It was the reason why we kept going every day. That’s what good parents do. No matter how bad things get, you keep going. I know your dad didn’t raise you to be like this.”
Charlotte let out a loud sob and buried her face in her hands. Randi stood upright and scoured the room. She saw a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. She threw them onto Charlotte’s sagged body. “Put these on.”
When there was no reaction, Randi leaned forward again, resting her hands on her knees. “I am a nurse. I have dressed a lot of people in my day. I will dress you and I will not be gentle about it. You put on those clothes. We’re going for a walk.”
Randi went to the bed and sat down. When Charlotte didn’t move, Randi got back up and went to the girl, grabbing her shirt and starting to pull it off.
“NOOOO!” Charlotte moaned. “I’ll do it.”
“Then do it!” Randi demanded.
Charlotte’s crying tapered off and she turned her back to Randi, taking off the filthy clothes she’d been in for days and switching to those that Randi gave her. When she was done, Charlotte turned to her, wiping at a tear.
The Borrowed World (Book 4): No Time For Mourning Page 13
