Bare trees hung above both sides of the road, casting shadows that nearly blocked out the sun, even on the brightest of days. Today was no different as Rick moved down the shadowy road toward the town’s gate to wait for whoever had been assigned sentry duty to allow him to pass. He stopped his car just in front of an eighteen-foot-long box container the town used as its main gate. Full of solid concrete, it could stop just about anything that might try to get through.
Rick sat in the El Camino, watching as the faded red container rose from the ground. If you stood looking at it from the outside of the fortified town, it seemed as if it were magically floating as it moved to a height of fifteen feet off the ground before it stopped in midair, hanging perfectly still. The real magic, as with any good illusion, took place behind the scenes. From the outside of town, what you couldn’t see was the crane the container was hanging from. Because of the incline of the hill that Rick had stopped on, to him as well as anyone else who viewed this, the container seemed to float entirely on its own. Rick had designed the container when Brick Creek had upgraded its security a few years back, and in every way, it was the perfect gate.
In the years since, however, he hadn’t done much for the good of the town. His greatest contribution now was scavenging, and most of what he found went to the town’s stockpiles. As he had become somewhat of a recluse, scavenging was the only thing that got him out of his house.
After passing under the massive gate, Rick hit the gas again. Tearing down Main Street, he knew that if Sheriff Parker were around and saw what he was doing, he’d never hear the end of it. As reluctant as he was to slow down, Rick made a hard left turn off the street and hit the brakes, sliding to a halt near the gas station where he was supposed to meet Jess and Eric. It wasn’t the first time he had driven like that, and it always amazed him that he’d never had a wreck.
The moment he stopped, a handful of people came outside, screaming at him, including Jess. “What the hell’s wrong with you?” she yelled. “You’re out of control!”
Rick jumped out of the driver’s seat and ran to the front the car, where Jess and was standing. Not wasting time, he grabbed her by the arm. “Let’s go! I don’t have time to explain. Get in the car!”
“To hell with you!” Jess screamed. “I’m not going anywhere with you!”
From the contempt in her voice, he knew this was going to be a challenge. Jess was dressed in a black coat with fur around the collar and matching earmuffs. She had a serious fondness for money and never attempted to hide it in the way she dressed.
“Where’s Eric?” Rick demanded.
“Eric? You really expect to talk about my son after you roar in here like it’s the end of the world? Eric is with my mother. He didn’t want to see you, and you…you should be grateful that I came here to tell you face-to-face.”
At that moment Rick’s heart dropped, as did as his shoulders. For a time everything seemed to pass in slow motion, and he desperately tried to pull his mind away from the emptiness that instantaneously consumed him. The excitement, joy, and belief that he would see his son suddenly vanished, leaving only contempt and anger.
After that, Rick stood up a little taller and pushed his shoulders back. A second later he was shouting at the small crowd that had gathered. Ignoring his ex-wife altogether, he was telling everyone to get back inside or they would die. It didn’t matter, however, because no one was listening; they just stood there staring at him.
Rick wasn’t surprised that Jess wasn’t listening to him either. They had gone their separate ways long ago, and he knew there was no way she’d listen to anything he said at this point. This wasn’t the first time Jess had kept Rick from their son, and he knew it wouldn’t be the last. Jess once had told Rick that they had met at a time when she was rebelling and that she had gone slumming, nothing more and nothing less. The only good thing to have come out of the situation was Eric, but if Jess had any say in the matter, Rick never would see him again, as she didn’t approve of what she called his “low-life existence.”
Rick tried to focus. He continued to speak to the crowd, informing them of what he had heard on the radio. He kept talking until the sheriff finally arrived. He didn’t even notice Sheriff Parker until he placed his hand on Rick’s shoulder, by which time he knew that two things were true: first, no one cared about what he had to say, and second, he was going to jail.
Sheriff Ronnie Parker, having known Rick for most of his life, wasn’t rough, nor did he mistreat him in any way. It was because of that mutual respect that Rick didn’t resist.
Sheriff Parker, standing all of five feet four inches and weighing around 160 pounds, led Rick around the corner to the jail. There were no cuffs, no embarrassing displays, but he did have a job to do, and as he saw it, Rick hadn’t left him any alternative.
From his jail cell, Rick tried once again to explain what he had heard on the radio. “I’m telling you, Sheriff, I heard it. Ronnie, you know me. I wouldn’t make this up. It was a weak signal, but I heard it.”
“Rick, no town has issued warnings in years, much less about invading troops. I know what you think you heard, but—”
Rick cut him off midsentence. “The M.M.—they’re coming, I’m telling you. You know what they’re capable of and what they’ve done in the past to other towns with more defenses than Brick Creek. They’re going to tear this town apart brick by brick and kill everyone they can.”
“Shut your mouth, Rick! I’m going to tell you this only once. You’re scaring folks with all this talk. It’s bad business. I can’t have you disturbing the public. Either the M.M. will show, or they won’t, but I have my money on the latter. If you ever do something like this again, I’ll personally ensure you never see the light of day. Do you understand me?”
Looking the sheriff right in the eyes, Rick stood up from the metal seat in his cell and grabbed the bars. “If they come, everyone will die!”
“The only reason ‘I’m gonna let you go this fast is because we grew up together. This is your only warning.” The sheriff opened the cell door and released Rick after ordering him to go home.
Just before Rick reached the main door, which was only twenty feet from the cell, the sheriff reminded him there had been zero confirmed sightings of M.M. soldiers in more than two years. Rick heard him clearly but paid him no attention.
When Rick got back to his car across the street, only a few people were still outside, talking among themselves. After his little chat with the local authority, and not wanting to risk a much longer stint in the lockup, Rick got into his car and drove off. Eric wasn’t with him—and Jess certainly wasn’t either—and he knew this was the first of many times to come that he truly would feel alone.
He couldn’t say how far down the road he was when he suddenly realized a woman was sitting silently in the passenger seat of his car. She was a woman who would change his life—and all lives—forever.
THREE
The town of Brick Creek—if you could call it a town—was a nightmare. At least that’s how Christiana felt about it. In a never-changing whirlwind, she had been stuck, and she knew if she didn’t get out, it eventually would lead to her destruction. If she spent one more day in that house with him, she’d end up in a ditch somewhere, most likely dead.
That piece-of-shit man who called himself her father was actually her foster parent. What a pathetic excuse of a person, she thought, as she walked down the street.
Chris, as she preferred to be called, was in her late teens but looked every bit a woman. Her long, flowing, brown hair was pulled tightly back in a ponytail. She’d shaved the sides of her head, but this was only revealed when her hair was pulled back in the ponytail. She had a slender figure and looked very much like the girl next-door type. The tattoos on her arms reminded her of the beating she had received after she’d gotten them. It didn’t stop her, though; she’d gotten six more since then. After her aunt, the only person close to her, had passed away, Chris decided she’d been the only one
she could trust.
As she was a quiet girl, she didn’t have many friends. She was the type who’d immediately catch someone’s eye if she chose to, but she seldom ever cared enough to do so. She had high cheekbones and a lovely face, but it was her bright-green eyes that revealed her feisty spirit along with a certain sadness she always seemed to carry with her.
The street was quiet as Chris walked to the town store to try to acquire cigarettes and, if she was lucky, some liquor. Usually the local store only had junk that people bartered for, but word had gotten around town that one of the local boys had made up some moonshine, and the prospect of that was worth the trip.
As she made her way down the street, Chris thought about her foster father, who wasn’t the noblest of men, and she had the bruises to prove it. The alcohol would, she thought, take the edge off.
Once again he came home drunk and decided that because there was a single unwashed dish in the sink, she needed to be taught a lesson. As it turned out, and with no surprise to her, it was a two-hour lesson. It was just another of many beatings she had received throughout her young life.
The gas station was the only barter store in town, and it lay on the town’s perimeter. The building was boarded up, and the only access was through the front entrance, a sheet of steel bolted to where a glass door once had been. In addition a small window on the back side served as a walk-up area to outsiders. It allowed travelers access to bartering without allowing them entry inside the town.
Just outside the store, Chris paused in an attempt to regain her composure, as her emotions were beginning to overwhelm her.
She knew Shawn was working this shift, and all she had to do to get what she wanted was flirt a bit and pay him a little attention. The thought of her using her body to get what she wanted made her feel queasy. Shawn was a nice enough guy, and he wasn’t bad looking either, but he was still a guy, and it sickened her that she had to act in a certain way to get what she wanted.
All men are the same, she reminded herself. In this world you use what you have to get what you want. Screw men! She thought, holding back her tears.
Tilting her head up toward the sky, she closed her eyes and took in a deep breath of air. She stood there for a few seconds, taking in the feel of the brisk breeze on her skin. Chris opened her eyes a moment later and focused on a few leaves falling to the ground. Although they were brownish gray and wilted, she saw only their pure beauty, the only beauty she thought she had in her life.
Although it was freezing cold, she was without a jacket because she’d left her house quickly, and for good reason: her stepfather had been on a rampage. She opened a button on her blouse and pulled her jeans down a bit to reveal her hips. Her body was slightly numb from the cold air, but with confidence and determination, she pushed open the door and walked into the store.
“Damn!” Chris unintentionally said out loud when she saw who was working behind the worn counter. She hadn’t made it six feet inside when she stopped dead in her tracks. Amber’s Rottweiler, named Billy Bob after her favorite actor was growling at Chris from where it lay unchained next to her.
“Oh, what a surprise to see you,” Amber said with contempt in her voice. “What do you want this time? Booze or drugs? Everyone in town knows what you really are, Chris. You’re a whore and a junkie, and you’re not getting anything from me today, or any other day for that matter.”
Overweight and out of shape, Amber was in her early forties but easily could pass for midfifties. Her thinning grey hair cut short reviled her aged skin. One could tell by looking at her tattered clothing that she’d had a hard life and wasn’t the approachable type by any means. It amazed Chris that Amber owned a business at all, considering that she was a drunk and even drank while at work.
“Amber, I don’t want anything except some soda and for you to shut up your stupid barking dog.”
“You talk about Billy Bob like that again, and I’ll whoop your little ass like I did when you were a kid!” Amber shot back.
Chris rolled her eyes. “Why are you always giving me shit? I’m not a kid anymore.”
“Giving you shit? Get out of my store!”
“What the hell?” Chris yelled back.
“Just get out now!”
With sheer bitterness, Chris turned and walked out, letting the door slam hard behind her. She wasn’t an angel, but she’d never done drugs in her life, and Amber knew it. She’s a mean old hag the world would be better off without, Chris thought.
“What the hell is all this?” she asked no one in particular when she stepped outside. In the parking lot, she saw a guy arguing with a woman while a crowd watched the scene unfold.
An older man standing next to Chris told her, “Rick just drove in here like a madman, jumped out of his car, and started screaming about the end of the world or some crap like that.”
Chris stood there staring at Rick. He was attractive, with dark, shoulder-length hair and a two-day beard. He wore a leather jacket, blue jeans, and biker boots that she thought were very sexy. For some reason she felt a connection to him she couldn’t explain.
As soon as Rick told everyone to get inside or they were all going to die, she knew he could be her ticket out of this shit hole town.
FOUR
“Who the hell are you?” Rick asked the woman in the passenger seat.
“Oh, that’s a wonderful way to introduce yourself when you’re the one who told everyone to get to a safe place. You’re an ass,” she said under her breath. “I’m Chris, and I already know who you are. Well, I’ve heard of you anyway. You’re Rick, that scavenger guy who lives outside of town.”
“Yeah, I am, but when I said ‘a safe place,’ I didn’t mean my car. It’s too late now, though. I don’t have time to take you back. We need to move. We’re running out of time.”
Chris shrugged. “OK, I’ll bite. What are you talking about?”
“It was on the radio. Don’t worry. We’ll be fine.”
“Um, OK?” Chris said in a low, confused voice.
The drive from town to the cabin seemed almost instantaneous, as Rick was again driving excessively fast for the icy conditions. After he’d gone back out the main gate and turned down a dirt road just outside of town, it took only about ten minutes to reach the cabin.
“What the hell is this?” Chris asked him. “I thought you were getting us away from here. I don’t want to go to your cabin.”
Rick, if he did hear her, didn’t respond.
The cabin was a log home nestled into the side of a hill. From the outside it appeared small, but stepping through the door, one could see there was actually quite a bit of space inside. The area around the outside of the cabin was a dump, but that was just to keep any would-be looters away.
Inside there was a large, open floor with a stone fireplace next to a very small kitchen. A set of stairs on the left led to a large loft and study, which were sparse but quite comfortable.
Rick had lived there for nearly six years since Jess had left him. He didn’t have many things in the cabin other than a lot of books and a few hunting rifles and pistols. n abundant amount of tools and a few things left over from his time in the army as well as everything else he owned.
The wraparound porch, with its hot tub hiding in the back, had been his real pride and joy. After long trips on the road, it was the perfect way for him to relax, but those days were long past. Now it just sat there, reminding him of better days, when people had things like electricity.
The trees around the property kept the cabin out of sight from any neighboring homes, and a stone pathway led up and around the hill through the woods to a small lake frozen with thick ice. Rick had spent many hours sitting beside that lake in his favorite chair, watching the sunset.
As they approached the cabin, Rick was rambling about the M.M., but Chris was more interested in the property than anything he had to say about any military invasion. All she knew about the M.M. was that it was some group of soldiers; its official tit
le was “Mors Mortis Military.” Other than that she just knew they’d organized themselves after the global economic collapse.
“Wow, I’m impressed. I didn’t know this place was up here.”
Rick still wasn’t listening as they came to a stop in his driveway. He didn’t bother trying to park in his usual spot either. He slammed on his brakes, just missing a large hole in the ground near the cabin. The last owner had intended it to be the foundation of a new garage, which Rick never had gotten around to building. Now the only thing left was an old recreational vehicle parked in it. It was deep enough that the roof of the RV was just at ground level.
Rick jumped out of the car, ran to the other side, and pulled Chris from the passenger seat before she even had a chance to react.
“Hey! What the hell?” she yelled, almost falling to the icy ground.
Rick grabbed her by the arm, tugged her to her feet, and ran toward the cabin, pulling Chris along with him. It was all she could do to try to keep up with him.
Once they were inside, the realization that something was very wrong began to hit her. Chris jumped, startled when Rick closed the door behind them. A minute later she slid into a corner on the floor, her knees tightly against her chest, and watched Rick. Within minutes he was pulling wood from a pile just outside the cabin and soon was boarding up the windows from the inside.
The sound of the hammer pierced Chris’s mind with every strike as she watched him in silent fear. Her fear wasn’t of Rick but that something bad was about to happen, something she knew she wasn’t prepared to deal with, something she couldn’t put her finger on.
By the time Rick had finished boarding up all six windows, Chris felt as if hours had passed. When he turned on an oil lantern, he saw how scared she was.
In the blackness the lantern was the only light until Rick started a fire in the fireplace that slowly illuminated the room. Chris, sitting silently, watched the shadows from the fire dance around the room with a life of their own. It was both comforting and sad to her, but that was something she was accustomed to in her life; to her, mixed emotions were her normal. There were always multiple feelings for everything. Her mind constantly was trying to divide itself and drive her mad.
A Town Called America Page 2
