by Jf Perkins
Chapter 7 – 10
Terry woke to a strange ringing sound. It sounded like an alarm. The light was gray and dim, maybe just before dawn. He stuffed himself into his pants and went running down the stairs. He found the alarm hanging on the wall in the kitchen. It was a yellow telephone. He picked it up and held it to his head like he had seen Bill do.
“Uh, hello?” Terry asked, unsure of the protocol.
“Boss?” the voice said.
“No. It’s Terry speaking...”
“Terry! It’s Jeffry. Listen, I’m up at the front guard. You need to get somebody up here with a truck. Now!” Jeffry was frantic. “Oh, and wake up Sue. We’ll need a doctor.”
Terry found himself holding the dead phone, waiting for his sleepy brain to catch up with reality. He ran upstairs, put on the rest of his clothing and gear. He ran the five steps down the hall to Sally’s room and banged on the door.
“Whaaat?” The irritation was clear even though Sally voice was muffled.
“Sally! It’s Terry. There’s a problem at the front guard. Can you wake up the doctor?”
“What? Yeah. Yes!” Sally sounded more awake with each word.
“Ok. I’m headed up there with the truck!” Terry said and ran back down the stairs. He had passed the opening door to Bill and Aggie’s room as he flew by, but knew that Sally would tell them what she knew.
He sprinted through the empty gravel streets, slammed open the barn door, and had Big Bertha running before he realized he needed the big doors open as well. He leaped from the driver’s seat, pulled the reinforced doors open, and was roaring through them ten seconds later. Judging from Jeffry’s voice, Terry didn’t waste any time circling around through the west gate. He simply drove around the perimeter of Teeny town and straight up the grassy hill. The front gate was hanging open, and a young man he didn’t recognize was waving from the house on the left. Terry swung the big truck alongside the back porch, trying to line up the tailgate with the porch steps. Before he came to a complete stop, Jeffry and Nick were carrying a bloody mess in the shape of a man across the porch.
Jeffry slapped the glass behind the truck cab, and yelled, “Go!”
Nick was latching the rear doors as Terry pulled away. He circled the house and drove between two of the houses to get back through the gate. He followed his own tracks down the hill, but instead of circling town, he drove straight through the tiny square in the middle. He hadn’t been to the Teeny Town hospital, but he knew where it was. He drove three buildings past the tavern and turned hard to squeeze Big Bertha into the low hanging awning over the emergency entrance. The bloody man in the back had already been taken from the truck before Terry managed to kill the engine and followed the small crowd through the broad double doors.
One way to know when it’s bad is when the first words out of the doctor’s mouth were, “Oh, shit.”
Sue was one of about ten people in Teeny Town who had the post-Breakdown version of medical training, which meant she knew exactly what she was doing, but had very little in the way of tools to do it.
The emergency room came from another time. Everything was white, or shiny metal, and completely spotless. Terry’s mind was naturally searching for anything to notice, other than the man who was being slid onto a high, flat bed. The wide smears of blood were a stark and distracting contrast to everything else Terry could see.
No one seemed to mind that he was there, less than ten feet from the frantic activity around the man on the table. He finally pulled his eyes to that poor soul. Terry kept a guarded mental distance from that man, until he looked closer. His mind nearly snapped with a deep blast of white noise in his vision. The sound went dead in the room and everything slowed down to a crawl. He had all the time in the world to recognize the man.
It was Dusty Baer.
Chapter 7 – 11
I shivered as I crawled out of my sleeping bag. I would have happily stayed there until the sun did its job and warmed up the woods, but my bladder was calling as it always did in the morning. I unzipped the tent as quietly as possible, and slid out through the narrow slot. The tent had a rain fly, an extra layer to protect against bad weather. Instead of unzipping that door, I opted for the quiet approach and simply wriggled underneath. As I got to my feet, I found myself looking at the biggest dog I had ever seen. He was almost entirely black, except for the brown patches on his head and chest. He looked at me with interest, and I naturally assumed I had the appearance of a tasty morning snack.
His head was enormous, even on that monstrous body. He was panting slightly as if he didn’t know it was freezing outside. I stood unmoving long enough to decide that he didn’t look threatening, really. It was more an expression of amusement. Then I took two steps toward him, and his big sloppy grin disappeared. A growl emanated from that dog, almost below the range of human hearing. I could feel it in my guts better than I could hear it. I stepped back two steps.
I wondered who was on watch and how they managed to miss this huge invader. With no way to predict what the dog would do, I simply stood and watched him. The dog apparently had an understanding of human borders and stood right on the edge of our campsite. He seemed to be respecting our space, as long as we respected his. I decided to test that theory. I stepped a few paces to my right, and the dog kept his smile. Back to the left, I got the same result. I stepped forward again and he let me know that was a bad idea.
Dad had apparently heard my shuffling, because he crunched in from behind me in his normal stride. I learned to recognize those kinds of details now that TV was out of my life. I could tell the instant he noticed the dog. He quickened his pace and reached my side quickly. I told him what I had discovered, and he said, “That dog must be guarding something behind him.”
It turns out, that was true. After a few minutes of trying to figure out how to deal with that determined critter, we heard a feminine voice calling out. “Bear! Bear, where are you? You crazy mongrel!”
The dog barked three times. His bark had the same visceral impact as his growl.
“Somebody out there, Bear?”
The dog barked once.
“Well, tell them to wait ‘til I get there!”
Dad and I were fairly astounded. The level of communication between this dog and his master was clearly higher than normal, and we were anxious to see the person on the other end of the conversation.
We heard the footsteps long before we saw the figure in the woods. Judging from the size of the rifle the woman carried, she was either tiny, or the rifle was stolen from a battle tank. She was hidden under a puffy fur hat and clad from the neck down in a fringed leather outfit that looked like something from an American Indian museum. As she approached, it became apparent that she was indeed a very small woman. Once she was standing next to the dog, it was even more obvious. She reached out, only slightly downward from her shoulder, to pat the dog on the shoulder.
“Good job, Bear. Who we got here?”
The dog made a noise that sounded like, “Beats me...”
“Well, I’ll ask them. You just hold tight, big boy.” She said.
“Howdy folks!” the lady said. “How about this crazy weather?”
“Hello,” Dad said. “It’s crazy all right.”
The woman looked at Dad, and then looked at me even longer. “What about you, Mister? You crazy?”
“Well, not too often, Ma’am.” Dad replied with a half formed smile.
She broke into a full grin, her teeth straight and white. “Me neither, I hope... So, I gotta ask. What are you folks doing on my place?”
“We’re sorry, Ma’am,” Dad answered. “We didn’t know whose place it was. We just needed a place to stay the night. We’ll move right away.”
“Not so fast. How many you got here?”
“Well, my name is David Carter. This is my boy, Bill. My wife and three more kids, my family. And then there’s Arturo and his son, Jimmy. After everything that’s happened, they’re family too.”
> “What are you folks doing camping in weather like this?” she asked.
“We didn’t have much choice. We were staying up at George and Martha Carroll’s for the winter, and then some bad guys came along and we had to move.”
“George and Martha? They’re good people. How are they doing?”
“They, uh... They didn’t survive the winter.” Dad said, sadness apparent as he choked the words out.
“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that. It was powerful cold, all right.” The woman said. “Bear and me had to huddle up pretty close.”
“We did too. We actually dug into the ground to stay warm,” Dad said.
“Right smart, Mr. Carter. So, who were these bad men you’re talking about?”
“I don’t know who they are or where they came from. I know their boss was a guy named Eugene Curfman,” Dad replied with a shrug.
“Don’t ring a bell...”
“I also know they’re camped out just this side of the Duck River, near Hickerson Station Elementary.”
“Wait. Why is everybody camping out in this God-awful cold?”
Dad started to answer, then froze for a second as he realized she didn’t know. “You mean you don’t know about the war?”
“War? No. What war?” she asked, shaking her head under its huge furry hat.
“Your power’s out, right? Phones don’t work?” Dad asked.
“Well, yeah, but I’m way out on the end of the line. I figured they’d fix it sooner or later. As for phones... Don’t have one. Don’t want one,” she replied, turning her foot in the snow in defiance, like she’d heard this argument too many times.
“Ok, well there was a war last May...” Dad began.
“Wait, now. This sounds like it might take a while and my feet are cold,” she said. “I’ll tell you what. Round up your people and head on up to the house. You can tell me what I missed, and I’ll feed ya’ll some breakfast.”
“You have food?” Dad asked.
“Why, sure. Don’t everybody?”
“Ma’am, do I have a story to tell you.” Dad laughed in amazement that anyone could miss the end of the world.
“Oh, how rude of me, Mr. Carter. My name’s Sally Bean. Folks around here call me Crazy Sally, but I’d be just as happy if you left the crazy part off.”
“Please, call me David. I’ll introduce you to the rest of the pack when we get there.”
“Ok, David. Pleased to meet you, and you too, Bill,” Sally said smiling up at me. “Bear will lead you to the house when you’re ready. I’ll go ahead and get to cooking.”
“Thank you, Sally.” Dad said.
“It’s my pleasure. Not too much company out this way. It’ll be a treat.” Sally Bean seemed truly excited. “Bear, I think these folks are all right. Show them the house, ok?”
The dog barked once in agreement.
Chapter 7 – 12
Terry came back. A slender hand touched his shoulder and pulled him out of his prison of pain. He turned and saw Sally Carter standing beside him, still wearing her nightgown, robe, and slippers. She looked into his eyes, and nodded once. He understood that she was there, with him, and that was important. Everything else was completely insane.
Bill hobbled in with Aggie holding up his left shoulder. He had two crutches tucked under his right, but was carrying them more than using them. The doctor looked up and gave a slight shake of her head when she caught his eye. Bill charged right to Dusty’s bedside, and tried to hide his reaction to what had been done to his friend.
“Hey, Dusty. Looks like you had a tough one.”
Dusty opened one eye. The other had been gouged and mutilated. His voice was like wind in distant trees. “Hey. Bill.” Dusty took a few labored breaths. “They know... They know, Bill.”
“It’s all right, Dusty. It’s all right.” Bill had no hands free to wipe the tears. He looked to his wife and found that she was having the same problem.
“They know... where...” Dusty shuddered another breath, twitched for a few seconds, and he was gone.
Bill put his hand on Dusty’s chest, trying to grasp one last bit of contact with his old friend before Dusty was lost forever. Terry watched from across the room, through his own blurry tears. He saw Bill say his goodbyes, and then watched the tender expression on Bill’s face go hard. Bill assessed the damage with a stony expression. Broken bones jutting from the skin, deep lacerations everywhere, and if there was any doubt, Dusty’s body was branded repeatedly with the Jenkins family mark.
Sue was in the corner, hunched over an equipment cart, clearly blaming herself. Bill had been gathering hatred long enough that his voice was harsher than she deserved. “Sue. Snap out of it. Nobody could have saved him. Nobody!”
“I know, Bill. That doesn’t make it any easier.” Sue replied, sniffling and wiping her face with her sleeve.
“I’m sorry, Sue. That came out wrong. I just meant, don’t blame yourself.”
“I won’t. I know who to blame.” Sue said.
“Good, because we need you, and we’re going to need you even more very soon.” Bill said with a darkness Terry had only seen once before.
“Terry... No, scratch that. Sally, go get dressed and round up the section leaders. Meeting at ten o’clock at City Hall. If anyone claims they’re busy, give ‘em the short version and tell them this is the most mandatory meeting I’ve ever called.”
“Yes, Daddy.” Sally leaned her head on Terry’s shoulder for a few more seconds and slid away. Terry’s hand tracked down her arm. His fingertips brushed hers as they passed out of reach.
“Terry, you’re at the meeting, too. Make sure everybody from Nashville is there.”
“Yes, sir.” Terry replied.
“Jeffry Hall!” Bill hollered.
Jeffry trotted in through the double doors. “Sir?”
“What happened out front?” Bill demanded.
“We saw Dusty’s truck coming down the road, so we didn’t notice anything wrong until the men stood up in the back. They just drove by and threw Dusty out of the truck. I got caught with my pants down, sir. I got off a couple of shots, but I couldn’t say if I hit anyone.” Jeffry said, head down, looking like this was the worst report he had ever made.
“Did Dusty say anything else?” Bill asked, letting Jeffry deliver the reprimands for himself.
“He was talking the whole time at first, but mostly he was repeating over and over that they had found us. He said they tortured him, but that was obvious.” Jeffry paused for a deep breath. “He was pretty upset that he told them. That’s about all I remember. We carried him inside and I called your house. Five minutes later, Terry was there.”
“Ok, Jeffry. Meeting at City Hall at ten. Be there. You’ve got some hard work ahead of you.”
“Yes, sir.”
With everyone assigned to tasks, and Sue retreating to a quiet office, only Bill and Aggie were left over Dusty’s battered body.
“Why don’t you sit down, Bill?” Aggie said with concern on her face. She had seen Bill with that look on his face, and she knew the risks they were all about to take.
Bill ignored her suggestion. “Well, Aggie. We’ve been dreading this day for a long time.”
“Yes, Dear. We have.”
“Did you ever have those days when you thought we could get away with hiding out forever?” Bill asked.
“I’ve spent lots of days like that, pretending that the world was really gone and it was just us, in our little community, living better than people have for almost forty years.” Aggie said sadly. “But I never really believed it. From the day we met, I knew we’d end up here.”
“Well, here we are. Our little island in the storm, about to get hit by a hurricane.”
“Bill, I never tell you this, but you’ve built a good place here, full of good people. If anyone can survive this, it’s us.”
“Let’s hope so,” Bill said, gripping her hand tightly. “Maybe when this is over, we can finally retire to our own little ca
bin in the woods.”
“Maybe so, as long as it’s not too close to that crazy brother of yours.” She smiled. It was an old, weak joke.
Bill snorted with rough laughter, and then became serious again. “Until then, we’ve got a big mess to clean up. Now that they know where we are, we have no reason to wait. I’m ready to make someone pay, and I’m going to start by taking the fight right to their front door.”
End Part 7
Author’s Note:
Bill was born into our peaceful world. He had six thousand channels of cable TV, video games, the internet, and organized sports. Even though he has lived the vast majority of his years in the violence of post-Breakdown America, he has never been a natural fighter. He followed in his father’s footsteps and grew up to be a builder. He wants to build a future that makes sense to him, and his idea of making sense starts with something akin to what our forefathers thought when they realized they were fully under the thumb of a foreign ruler. He wants people to work and receive the benefits of their labor. He wants leadership that doesn’t spend all of its energy trying to extract the maximum advantage from the people they lead. He wants law, but not too much law. He wants freedom and prosperity to mean something.
In the meantime, he is forced to fight. This is no surprise to him, but it’s a strain on his soul, and the harder he gets, the more years fall off his life. It’s like an introvert in room full of chatty extroverts. He can deal with the conflict, but when the party is over, he wants to sleep for two days straight.
Aggie is his support. In fact, he acknowledges that she can do his job better than he can. She’s tougher than we’ve seen, for reasons we don’t know yet. I see her as the key to his survival in an extended fighting situation. Without her to give him a place to shelter from the fight, he might not have the mental stamina to make it through to the end. Without her to give him an occasional kick, he might miss something important.
