The door jingled and there stood Abi, bleary-eyed. When she spotted the kitten she squealed in delight, her small hands outstretched.
Maria hated her little sister’s squeals, but at least this time it wasn’t about something stupid. “Come meet the kitten James found.”
“For me?” Abigail crowed, then coughed deeply.
Maria hated these sounds even more.
James shrugged and smiled faintly. “Of course, for you, silly. You’ve got to get him fat and happy.”
Abi took the kitten from Maria, cradling it in her arms.
“That cat’s lucky to be alive,” Anna said, a happy smile creasing her face. “We better get cat food. And stock up on canned goods for ourselves. There’s a grocery store a few blocks away, the only big one between here and Quinault.”
“Anything else we need here?” Maria asked, glancing around the store.
Her father grinned. “Reading material.” He snagged a book from the shelf marked Local Authors.
“I think I went to school with that guy,” Anna said. “Let me see that.”
Her father grabbed another copy of the book and tossed it in his shopping bag. “I like the cover. I’ll take this stuff out and check if Noah’s still sleeping.”
“Oh, no.” Abi’s smile fell and her eyes went wide. “I forgot. He’s not. He’s crying. I’m sorry.”
“No worries, little one,” her father said, patting her on the head as he hurried to the door. “We’re ready to go.”
Maria gently removed the kitty from Abi’s arms and placed it in James’ big hands. “I think the kitten should ride with us today, Abi.”
Tears welled up in Abi’s eyes.
“You can take care of it when we get to Kinwalt, ‘kay?” She knew she should say it the right way for Abi’s sake, but she couldn’t help herself.
Abi sniffed and nodded.
“Good girl.” Maria headed for the door.
“Shouldn’t we pay?” Anna asked.
Maria rolled her eyes at James and headed for the door. “Only if you want. It’s the end of the world, Anna.” She shoved the jingle bell door open, not wanting to hear Anna’s response. She felt the heat of her glare on her back.
James followed her out. “Is it a good idea to antagonize her?”
“No,” Maria said. “But sometimes I can’t help it.”
“Why do you hate her so much?” James pulled open the passenger door and climbed inside.
“You want to know what the shrink figured out?”
“I want to know what you think.”
“I can’t tell you ‘cause I don’t know.” Maria turned the key and the engine started.
James nodded.
She pulled out of the parking lot following the Suburban with Anna at the wheel. “The counselor,” she noted the bitterness she’d placed on the word, “says I hate her because she took my father away.”
“But you said your father met Anna after the divorce.”
“But the next year he went on a mission trip around Central America with Anna for a month.” Maria’s face flushed. “My mom died in a car accident while they were gone.”
“I’m sorry.” James put his hand to her cheek. “I was always curious.”
“No worries. Don’t really want to talk about it.” Maria gritted her teeth and continued her story. “They got sick after they came back, some third world nasty bug. Grandpa and Grandma took care of Anna and I took care of Dad—he almost died. When they got well, I didn’t talk to Anna for a year.”
CHAPTER SIX
SAMUEL DROVE HIGHWAY 101 AS it rolled on into the low hills, at times twisting and turning, but often cutting a straight swath through the underbrush of a once noble forest. Tree farms now lined the empty road. Anna’s midday drop in energy had sidelined her as a driver. Samuel had been glad to take over, but he felt like napping, too.
He came around a long curve; his feet hit the brakes, pumping. His eyes tried to make sense of the mess in the road. As the giant vehicle skidded, and the trailer whipped out sideways, the truck bounced on branches.
A jagged, broken branch aimed straight for the cab.
Anna screeched and came awake, bracing her hands on the dashboard.
The seat-belts locked. Brush scraped metal as the truck ground to a halt.
“What the—?” The branch bobbed, head height pointing at Anna’s wide eyes.
“Shit.” In the rear-view mirror Samuel watched as James’ truck slowed down safely behind the mess.
Anna pursed her lips, but didn’t comment on his profanity.
“Well,” Samuel said. Noah yowled and Abi whimpered.
He shoved open the door, scratching boughs and branches against it, setting his teeth on edge. Tree debris littered the road. He stomped around the truck. None of the limbs had pierced a sidewall.
There were at least three trees down. A big storm must have blown down the biggest and taken out all the smaller ones in between it and the highway. And, of course, no road crews to clean things up. Samuel groaned. He was too tired for this.
He heard a whistle from behind him. Turning, he found Maria grinning. “Nice save, Dad.”
“If I’d been paying attention…”
“Hey, we’re all okay. No harm; no foul.”
“Got some wood to cut, huh?” James came up behind Maria and wrapped his arms around her. “Are we close enough for this to be firewood?”
James seemed to love his daughter. Still Samuel felt a twinge of resentment. Instead of acknowledging it, he agreed. “Yeah, maybe. Wish I had a chain saw.”
“Any other way around?”
“You kidding?” Samuel said. His tone was harsh; James recoiled. “Nope,” he continued, softer. “This is it. The roads that go off of 101 dead-end or double back.” He jerked the rear of the Suburban open. “Find tools.” He gestured at the trailer. “Saws, machete, axes. Anything like that.”
After a few minutes of digging, Samuel found a hatchet, a collapsible triangle saw and a machete under the back cargo area with the travel safety kit. Thanks, Brad. I hope you’re at peace, old friend.
“Hey,” James hollered, his voice joyful. “Check this out.” He brought over a red plastic case with a Milwaukee logo on the side and popped it open in front of Samuel. “A cute little circular saw.”
“Hope the battery’s charged.”
James popped the battery in and pulled the trigger. The blade whined and spun. “Looks brand new.”
“All right, let’s take turns with the tools. The electric saw gets saved for bigger limbs. Use these to clear the small limbs and toss them aside.” Samuel handed James the hatchet. He flipped the blade around and locked the triangular saw in place before handing it to Maria. “We’ll take turns with the hand tools.”
A few smaller alders were tangled up with the big evergreens. He sighed and rolled up his sleeves. When was the last time he’d gotten a workout? Too long. Despite his exhaustion, it would feel good to do something he could finish.
Samuel glanced around to make sure no one was within swinging distance and started swinging the machete. He lopped a wrist-sized branch off the trunk. Nice—sharper than the one in his garage and the handle was wrapped like a tennis racket. Blisters on his soft hands would take longer. He kept whacking. Limbs flew off in a pleasant rhythm.
A swish pulled his attention. The butt of a branch flipped toward him. Samuel spun. The branch slammed into his left forearm as he swept it aside. A lucky deflection.
James stared, hatchet in his hand and a shocked look on his face. “Sorry.”
Samuel embedded the machete deep in the bark of the tree. He took a moment, letting James feel his glare. “Watch where the limbs are going to fly before you swing. That could have been my face.”
James’ jaw worked. He slammed the hatchet down into the bark. “I said I was sorry.”
“You okay, dad?” Maria asked, reaching for his arm.
White skin peeled up, exposing some tiny drips of seeping
blood and a lump. He would have a bruise and a scab, but nothing serious. “Be aware of where everyone else is,” he said slowly. “And where you’re stepping and swinging.”
“Yeah, I got it,” James said. He jerked the hatchet from the trunk of the tree and stomped away to attack the smaller tree on the other side of the road.
God, he hated confrontation.
Maria gave him a shrug that said he wasn’t out of line and returned to sawing at a branch.
Samuel pointed his machete at her cut. “Be careful near the end that it doesn’t crack and kick up at you.”
“Thanks, Dad. I’ll be careful.”
The sound of an engine in the distance made him turn. Maria and James looked up, too. A panel truck came around the corner. It stopped a long way off; its lights stared at them.
“Who is it?” Anna asked from the passenger seat.
“I don’t know.” Samuel turned away from the vehicle and whacked more branches off. “Keep working.”
A door slid open and shut.
“Someone’s coming,” Maria said.
“Yeah.” Samuel looked through the Suburban’s window.
A harmless-looking blond kid with a scruffy beard strolled toward them. “What’s the trouble?” he called in a pleasant masculine voice. “Tree down?”
You’re brilliant. Samuel sighed and turned toward them. “Yup,” he hollered back.
“How long before you’re done?”
“Depends on whether you help or not.” Samuel settled the machete in his hand.
“Well, I’m not interested in getting close enough to help. Seems like that would be close enough to get infected. Suppose you don’t really want us that close either.”
Samuel wanted to say something about not wanting the kids’ lazy, paranoid ass near his family, but he decided not to answer. Instead he flipped the machete and whacked off another small limb.
It fell at the kid’s feet. He stepped back. “Where you headed once you’re through?”
“Forks.” Samuel called. “Hoping we still have family up there.”
Maria stared at him, her eyes wide. She knew he was full of shit and she knew he thought these punks were bad news.
Another man stepped from the panel truck. He stood near the vehicle and crossed his arms.
What did they have hidden in that windowless back compartment of the panel truck?
The kid said, “We’re just driving. Nothin’ else to do,” then walked back up the hill to his friend.
Brad must have a gun in here somewhere. It would be nice to have a piece strapped to his side. Warn them off. The young men, a couple of wanna-be mountain men too young to grow full beards, stood by their panel truck talking, but he couldn’t hear what they said.
Out here there never was much law. Now, there was none. Maybe they weren’t trouble, just harmless kids, as scared as they were, but Samuel remained on guard.
“Why don’t you go behind the Suburban?” Samuel said to Maria.
“Paranoid much?”
“Not sure what’s up, but I got a funny feeling. Why a panel truck? What are they doing heading out into the wilderness?”
Maria shrugged. “Always some bad apples.”
“Keep an eye on them.” Samuel’s nerves were in high gear. Having somebody volunteering to do nothing pissed him off. The helplessness of getting shot at on the bridge had not left him.
He rubbed his forearm where the branch had hit. The bruise there would be pretty, darkening into a purple, yellow mess. Like the day. He saw James looked away and go back to work on the trees. Samuel slashed off the next branch, taking his frustration and helplessness out on the brush.
By the time the sun neared the horizon, they had cleared enough that Samuel figured they could move it with the truck. The panel truck duo had gotten out lawn chairs and beers at some point. Assholes du jour.
“Hey, James. You want lay out the rope? We’ll use your truck to pull this one out of the way.”
James nodded agreement, but his face remained impassive.
Samuel heard the last of the battery power winding down on the saw.
“Dad?” Maria called. “It’s dead.”
James laid out the rope while Samuel patiently got to work with the triangle saw, finishing off the last couple inches on the log Maria was cutting.
When he finished the cut, Samuel double wrapped the rope around the butt of the smaller tree and tied it off with a timber hitch.
He walked over to James truck as James flipped a bowline loop onto the hitch. “Nice knot.” Brad had taught Sam the knot several times, but it had never stuck.
James face softened as he turned away. “I’ll start the truck.”
“Okay!” Samuel called. “Everybody back off. Get in the Suburban and keep your heads down. Don’t need anybody else getting hit by flying branches.”
James moved the truck ahead slowly. The tree creaked and cracked as he tugged, then finally split and pulled away, shedding everything but the bark revealing a blackened center. James’ truck lurched forward,, but he braked quickly. The road was clear enough to drive through and they had all survived with only a few minor scrapes and bruises.
A cheer rose from Maria, Anna and the kids. The dweebs from the panel truck joined in and raised their beers at him. He ignored the boys even as he recognized their cans: PBR. Piss Beer Redux.
Samuel released the rope carefully, not certain that the tree wouldn’t swing back toward its earlier position, but it settled with a thud onto the road.
The panel truck roared to life and the driver ground the gears. It sputtered toward them and Samuel waved his family aside.
He glared at the men. They nodded, hollered thanks and the passenger again raised his jumbo can of Pabst. Samuel liked his beer—hoppy or heavy, amber or dark. Not wimpy.
After the panel truck passed them, Samuel went through the rest of the boxes in the Suburban and the trailer. In a few minutes he found what he was looking for. Brad’s back-ups: a semi-auto shotgun, a black powder rifle and two revolvers with a gun belt. He also found a compound bow and a Pulaski. The fireman’s ax would have been more appropriate for fighting zombies. When he glanced up, everyone’s eyes were watching him.
“Anyone know how to shoot any of these?”
“I can hit the broadside of a barn with all of them,” James said, a flash of anger and danger as he turned away. “Something smaller? Like a panel truck? Maybe.”
Kid wasn’t the pushover he seemed to be. “Brad gave me some pointers, but it’s been years... Let’s hope a threat is all we need.”
“Can I carry the old rifle?” Anna asked, pointing at the working replica. “It looks pretty burly!”
Samuel remembered Anna competing against her grandfather at target practice. “Yeah. Keep one of the revolvers close.” He handed them to her. “Maria and James, you take the shotgun. Whoever is not driving keeps it close at hand.”
The sun had dropped nearly to the tall topped hills. He stared down the highway toward the lake. He’d seen ancient photographs when the road had been narrow, even more impressive with the old growth so close to the road that the trees formed a vertical canyon pointing to the sky. Now they had added turn lanes and a shoulder to pull off on and of course cut all the trees a couple of times.
“Let’s go.” Sam took the wheel and continued driving.
A new clear cut, piles of limbs and brush, with all those lovely trees torn away, revealed Lake Quinault. At least this had been a tree farm, but the devastation still hurt.
Anna put her hand on his arm. “Can we stop at the spot?”
Samuel nodded. It had been tradition. Whether it was raining, snowing, sun-shining or black of night. They always stopped at the viewpoint to get out and look at the lake and the sky.
His whole body ached as he stepped out into the gray light. The tension of the last 24 hours had set in as muscle pain. He tried to stretch and relax, but it didn’t help.
Anna came around to his side and
wrapped her arms around him, then turned to look at the lake.
“From here,” Anna said, “it’s like nothing has changed.”
“Maybe nothing has. Not from the world’s point of view. Has it even noticed the lack of human beings?”
Maria snorted behind him. “I think mother earth has noticed in no uncertain terms.”
“It is as God wills it,” Anna said softly enough for only Samuel to hear.
Maria laughed.
Samuel turned. James was tickling Ria. Ah, to be young and in love. A strange parade of emotions crossed Anna’s face—anger skewering Maria as Anna thought she’d been laughed at, then softening as she realized the reason for the laughter, followed finally by her guilt betrayed for the glare. At least Maria had not seen it. Anna looked away, but her arms clung tight to him.
He caressed her baby bump as he stared out into the twilight over the lake. God’s country. Just gazing off into this wonder made him feel better. Glancing around at his family, it seemed to be affecting them too. “I love you, lady.” He closed his eyes as he held her, still comforted by the warmth of her body next to his.
A cough from the Suburban pulled them from the moment.
Samuel pulled open the door and plastered a smile on his face. “Hey, Abi. You remember Grandpa’s lake?”
Her eyes brightened as the cough faded and she wiped the snot from her nose down the length of her sleeve. “Lake Kinwalt?”
“Yeah.” Samuel undid her seatbelt and picked her up. “Lake Quinault.”
Samuel held Abi close as he returned to Anna’s arms. Anna took Abi and guided his arms around both of them. Then another sound interrupted, Noah’s whine. Samuel extricated himself. “I’ll get the little guy.”
After a bit of wandering and helping Noah take a pee-pee, they all climbed back in the vehicles.
As they headed down the hill into the dusk, headlights came toward them.
“Panel truck guys, part two.”
He heard Anna’s intake of breath and she reached behind the seat for the rifle. Samuel set his pistol on the dashboard as the two vehicles neared each other. Both men were waving at them.
When they stopped, Samuel waited.
“Hey, thanks for clearing out the mess back there.”
Deserted Lands (Novel): Toils and Snares Page 5
