THE COLLAPSE: Seeking Refuge

by Frank Kaminski

Claudine smiled and said, “You haven’t been to Victor and Gerty’s site yet, have you?”

  “You’re not the first person that’s asked me that,” Stephen laughed. He then asked, “Why weren’t they at the meeting today?”

  “They don’t always show up. Sometimes just one of them will, sometimes the other. They have to find people that they can trust to watch over their ‘domain’ while they are absent.”

  “That makes sense,” Stephen agreed, nodding.

  “You should go see them. Tomorrow. Tonight if you have time. They are doubled up at sites 17 and 18. You’ll know when you’re there, trust me.”

  “Why them? What’s the appeal?” Stephen asked.

  “You’ll see when you get there. They’re very interesting people, to say the least. If it’s information you want, Victor can get you all up to speed. He’s a ham radio operator. Don’t be surprised if you’re stuck there for a while. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!” Claudine chuckled.

  Stephen smiled and thanked Claudine for her time. He was excited to hear that there was someone out there that could satisfy his information fix.

  Before Claudine walked away, she told Stephen, “Don’t get your hopes up for any good news. There isn’t any. I don’t even bother asking Victor what’s going on anymore, it’s just too depressing.”

  *****

  While Carrie was at the three o’clock meeting, Tarra was still waiting for Julia to return for her son. After she and Carrie had cleaned the kid up, he warmed up a bit more and played with the Kays in the small grassy area next to the RV pad.

  Before Carrie had left for the meeting, Tarra had asked her about the two women, Sydney and Julia. Tarra could tell that there was a lot more than what met the eye with those two, and she wanted the 4-1-1. Carrie had laughed and asked Tarra a question.

  “Do you think they were really taking food out to their husbands at the gate?”

  “No,” Tarra answered. “I’m not sure what they were up to, but I don’t think it was something that they wanted a three-year-old around.”

  “Exactly,” Carrie said. Then she continued, “I’ll let you form your own impressions of people around The Park, but I will give you one fact. Hal Hollingsworth is almost two decades older than Julia. That’s all I am going to say.”

  “Oh, no. I get it,” Tarra realized.

  “The sad thing is, Hal’s a really good guy. I mean, a really good guy. I like him, and he’s done a lot for The Park,” Carrie admitted.

  “Why doesn’t anybody tell him?” Tarra asked.

  “Nobody wants to break the poor guy’s heart. I’m going to say something at the meeting today. Not an outright accusation, but something that will put thoughts into his head. Maybe he’ll dig up the truth on his own,” Carrie had said.

  And that’s exactly what Carrie had done while she was at the meeting.

  While Carrie was still away, Tarra had a visitor. Not a visitor as in a new patient or a friendly guest, it was a frightening one.

  Larry Paulson was walking slowly past Carrie’s site. He glared at Tarra as she sat at the picnic table watching her daughters play with the little boy in the grass. When she had finally spotted him, he didn’t lift his gaze or turn away. He just continued to watch her as he walked past Carrie’s RV, slowly, hands in his jacket pockets and a sneer upon his lips. The guy gave Tarra the creeps! She was afraid at first, but only for a moment. She remembered that she had the shotgun inside Carrie’s RV. Within three or four quick steps, she could have it in her arms. Only if necessary, though. Tarra was already aware of Larry’s temper and capacity for a confrontation. But why would he be angry with her? Because of Stephen, that’s why. What better way to get underneath another man’s skin than to mess with his wife.

  Tarra grew tired of his ugly stare and sarcastically called out, “Can I help you with something, sir?”

  Larry did not respond, he only continued his obnoxious leering. He was almost completely past the site when he turned around and started walking back the other way. “Cripes, here we go again,” Tarra thought. She figured he was waiting for her to say something harsh to him so he would have an excuse to get upset with her…so she said nothing and went back to watching her daughters play in the grass. It was one of her daughters that had spoken up instead.

  “Mommy, isn’t that the angry man from the meeting yesterday?” Kyla had asked. Both of the Kays were very inquisitive about things.

  “Yup, sure is,” Tarra answered in an apathetic sounding voice.

  “Why does he keep looking at you, mommy?” the other Kay asked.

  “Because he’s a very bitter man. He thinks that by being scary to your mommy right now, that I will tell your daddy about it. He wants your daddy to get angry at him so he has a reason to start a stupid fight,” Tarra explained as plainly as she could to a six-year-old.

  “Oh, okay. But then Uncle Fish would beat that man up. Right, mommy?”

  “Yes indeed, honey. Yes, indeed.”

  *****

  Stephen did not waste a moment, he wanted to speak with Victor and Gerty as soon as possible! Hell, maybe they had things that would be useful in the construction of the herring smokers as well.

  He had no idea that his wife was being stalked by Larry Paulson at the time. Had he known, he might not have made the decision to see the Martinez’ right away. Nevertheless, Stephen power-walked from Lower Loop to Forest Loop where the provision managers’ campsite was located.

  As Stephen got closer, he realized Claudine was correct, he did know when he was there. Sites 17 and 18 had been closed off to the rest of the campground by many strands of barbed wire nailed to trees. Only the driveway entrance to site 17 had been left un-barbwired. A mid-sized, silver Airstream camp trailer in immaculate condition sat upon the asphalt pad at site 17. The trailer was in such great condition, in fact, that it appeared to Stephen as if it might have very well time-traveled straight from the 1970’s to the present. Behind the trailer, Stephen could see several different random tarps that were fastened and tightly secured from tree to tree. Some hung straight down, creating a visual barrier. The tarps were protecting something, both from the weather and from looky-loo passerbys.

  There was a sign nailed high to a tree next to the driveway. It read, “DO NOT ENTER WITHOUT PERMISSION.”

  Stephen heeded the sign’s warning, and hollered a quick “hello?” It was Gertrude (Gerty) that had spotted him first. She greeted Stephen warmly. It was difficult for Stephen to identify her age, but he guessed that she couldn’t have been any younger than 60 and no older than 90. That’s a pretty big spread, but she kept herself in the same excellent condition as her faithful Airstream camp trailer.

  Gerty escorted Stephen toward the rear of the site, then crossed over to site 18, where a Land Rover sat protected by the barbed wire in the driveway. Gerty wanted Stephen to meet Victor before showing him around the provisions area.

  Stephen saw that the Land Rover’s driver’s side window was open, and Victor was in the seat. Stephen heard him saying into a radio microphone, “CQ...CQ…CQ…this is W9DPZ.”

  Gerty called out to him, “Vic, get off that damn thing and come say ‘hi’ to Stephen!”

  Victor’s head snapped toward them, and he looked surprised for a moment. Upon realizing who was visiting his site, he cheerfully yelled, “Stephen! You resource-managin’ sonofawhore! It’s about time you came to visit us!”

  Victor barreled out of the Land Rover and met Stephen with a hearty handshake. He looked like a wiry, Hispanic version of the Most Interesting Man in the World.

  “Did ol’ Gerty show you around yet?” Victor asked.

  “No, I haven’t had the pleasure yet, sir,” Stephen respectfully replied. He was always respectful to his elders. The Collapse hadn’t changed that in him.

  “You call me ‘sir’ one more time, and I’ll kick your ass! It’s just Vic or Victor,” Victor said. Then he pointed his finger at Stephen as if accusing him of something and said, “Call me ‘Vic
kie’ and I’ll kick your ass, too! Are we clear?”

  “Clear as the ionosphere!” Stephen replied amiably and smiled.

  Victor laughed and so did Gerty. The old man was very charming, in a rough-around-the-edges sort of way. Claudine was right once again, these were interesting people!

  Stephen allowed the Martinez’ to show him around before he began his inquisition about what was going on in the rest of the world. The tarps had concealed makeshift shelving units lined with provisions. Tons of provisions! Bags of rice and noodles, cans and jars of vegetables and meats, paper plates, plastic cutlery, paper towels, toilet paper, an assortment of hand and garden tools, soaps and cleaning gear, and even some batteries. Stephen was stupefied! There was a lot of stuff on those shelves!

  As Stephen marveled at the display, Gerty had sadly said, “Sorry, but our produce section has gone kaplouey. We are, however, really looking forward to the apples, cherries and wild blackberries that should be available around here in a few months.”

  Victor commented to Stephen, “Ya know what? A lot of this stuff was gathered up during that Safeway run that I heard you and your Fish fella made possible.”

  Stephen admitted, “I had a hand in it, but it was mostly Fish.”

  Victor tilted his head toward Stephen and curiously asked, “Speaking of that Fish fella, is that his ‘real’ name or what? Sounds more like a callsign or somethin’ like that.”

  “It’s his real name. He’s my best friend,” Stephen declared as he laughed.

  “What’s his last name, then?” Victor asked suspiciously.

  “I’ll tell you what, Victor, I’ll let you ask him that question. Simply for the entertainment value of it alone,” Stephen joked.

  “Deal,” Victor said in a serious tone, then winked at Stephen as he shook his hand and took him to the next section.

  Behind the tarps and to the very rear of the site, Stephen was introduced to the “recycling” area. Tin cans, scrap metals and wood formed a semi-organized pile near the barbed wire fencing. The cans had been cleaned of any food debris, and the wood was piled up according to size. Some of it looked like it might have been pallets that were disassembled.

  Stephen asked if he could bring Hal Hollingsworth to the recycling area for him to pick out what he would need to build the herring smokers. The Martinez’ had replied by cordially inviting Stephen to do whatever he thought would be necessary, if, in fact, it would be beneficial in some way to The Park.

  Since they were near the barbwire, Stephen touched a strand and asked, “How did you get all this wire?”

  To his question, Victor and Gerty looked at each other, confused. As if neither of them had a clue where the wire had come from. Victor finally said, “Not sure. I think they scavenged the ranger station for it. We never ask where Claudie and Bill come up with this stuff.”

  Stephen squinted in thought and asked, “Claudie and Bill? Are you referring to Claudine and William Probst?”

  Gerty laughed, “You can go ahead and call them ‘Claudine and William’ all you wish. They were our neighbors back in the real world, so they’re just ‘Claudie and Bill’ to us.”

  “I see,” Stephen acknowledged. It was becoming more and more of a realization that ol’ Claudie and Bill had been stacking their team this whole time. Nothing wrong with that, surrounding yourself with leadership that you can trust. Nothing wrong with that at all, Stephen thought. It was actually a wise thing to do. He felt privileged to be part of the team! But…how in the hell did that turd Larry Paulson previously fit into the picture, though?

  Victor changed the subject, “Okay, son. Here’s the rules. Nobody gets to take anything outta here without working for it. Claudie has a strict, ‘no free ride’ policy. You work for The Park, you get paid with stuff from here, simple as that.”

  Gerty added, “They left it up to me and Vic to determine distribution. We get confirmation from either Ox, Hal or Alexis as to who is putting in time on the security teams. Larry used to provide us confirmation of his resource people, but I guess that will be your job, now. Which is better, I think, because we never really did trust him. We’re pretty sure he gave us names of people that never contributed to The Park. Buddies of his.”

  “Oh, great,” Stephen sighed. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

  Victor then took a more serious tone and stated, “Things are still good here, for now. But keep in mind, son, there are over a hundred people living here at The Park. This food’ll disappear quick, once everyone’s personal stashes are all used up. The bridge teams used to bring down a lot of stuff, but it has been slim pickins’ the last few days.”

  “I plan on helping out with that issue,” Stephen proudly began, “I’m setting up two herring smokers at the two wood stations in The Park. All that fish, coupled with the rice, noodles and canned goods that you folks have stored up here should make for a very long haul. In my humble opinion, of course.”

  Victor and Gerty smiled at Stephen’s humble opinion comment. Victor put a friendly slap onto Stephen’s back and said, “You’re doing right by us, son. Right by us.”

  “I have a quick question,” Stephen said as he put his finger up. He had just thought of something. “What about fuel? Gasoline, diesel, propane, etcetera, etcetera?”

  Gerty replied before Victor could, “Ox is the fuel manager. He keeps it fenced off at his site. His wife and son keep an eye on it while he is up on the bridge. Ox and his teams are just about the only ones that would need fuel around here, anyway. Plus, Bill didn’t want all that fuel at this site, side by side with all the other stuff we have...”

  “Boom!” Victor yelled and made an explosion with his hands, startling Stephen. Victor laughed and playfully nudged Stephen’s arm.

  “That makes sense,” Stephen said, shaking off the willies and nodding his head in agreement.

  Just then, a woman approached the entryway to the provision managers’ site. She called out for permission to enter.

  Stephen and the Martinez couple met the woman. Gerty asked, “Yes, young lady? How can we help you?”

  “I was hoping for a little bit of food, and maybe a towel, if you have any.” She replied.

  Victor put on his business face and asked, “And you are?”

  “I’m Cynthia Hostetter. My son, Craig, is a woodcutter. He works every day.”

  Victor and Gerty both looked at Stephen, as if to ask, “Is that true?”

  Stephen asked the woman, “Does your son go by ‘Craigger’ by any chance?”

  “No, actually he doesn’t, but his friends insist on calling him that for some odd reason,” the woman laughed.

  Stephen nodded at Gerty and said, “There’s a Craig that I met this morning. Hard little worker, too, I might add.”

  “That’s my Craig!” the woman said, proudly.

  Victor grinned and told Stephen, “See, you really are handy, son!”

  Gerty gently grasped the woman by her arm and escorted her into their site, saying, “Come on in, honey. Let’s see what we can do for you.”

  *****

  Just as Larry Paulson had finally walked away from Carrie’s site, Tarra heard a series of gunshots in the distance. They sounded like different types of firearms; none of the shots really sounded the same. The shots, however, did not sound as if they had originated from the beach as the others earlier that day. They weren’t warning shots, either. Some even sounded like automatic fire.

  Seconds after the gunshots had ceased, Tarra heard an electronic squawk from inside Carrie’s RV. Another squawk, then there was a voice.

  “Carrie, this is Ox. Carrie, are you there? Carrie, come in!”

  It sounded like a walkie-talkie or a CB radio, but Carrie had never told Tarra anything about a radio. She ran inside the RV, and sure enough, after a quick search she had found a small handheld transceiver radio on the window sill above the RV’s sink.

  “How in God’s name could I have missed that, earlier?” Tarra cursed at herself as she picked up
the radio and pressed the mic button.

  “Carrie’s still not back from the meeting yet, this is Tarra. Can I help you?”

  “One of my guys just got popped. They’re bringing him down now.”

  Tarra gulped. Was it what she had feared? A gunshot wound? A bullet wound was quite a bit outside of the scope of her limited training. She pressed the button again and asked, “Popped as in…shot?”

  “Yeah. Two times, same shoulder, same arm. Are you okay with this? Where the hell is Carrie?”

  Tarra had no immediate reply. Where was Carrie? She should have been back from the meeting a long time ago. Even on foot, it shouldn’t have taken that long. Tarra’s blood pressure began to rise. She briefly contemplated sending the Kays out to look for Carrie. Both of the girls were notably familiar with The Park, but Larry Paulson was also out there too, somewhere, lurking around. Too big a risk, she decided they needed to stay with her at site 72.

  Tarra answered into the radio, “She should be back soon, bring the man down and I will do whatever I can until she gets here.”

  “Roger that, you should be hearing the truck in a minute,” Ox replied.

  “Shit! Shit! Shit!” Tarra screamed as she bounded out of the RV. She told the Kays that an injured man was being brought down to the site, and then ordered the girls to keep Dakota with them and to remain at the picnic table. “Do not leave this table under ANY circumstances! Do you understand me?” she had yelled, and the Kays acknowledged her.

  Tarra ran back into the RV and opened the cupboards that contained Carrie’s medical supplies. What would I need for a gunshot? Alcohol or betadine to sterilize the wound? Gauze to stop the bleeding? Something to stitch up the holes? What if the bullets were still inside the man? Tarra only knew what she had seen on television when it came to gunshot wounds.

  *****

  The reason Carrie was absent from site 72 was because she had followed Hal Hollingsworth after the meeting. She knew that he would likely check his own campsite first, then double back toward the gate to retrace his wife’s steps. Sure enough, she was right. She had caught up with the panicky man and followed him at a distance where he wouldn’t be able to see her.