by Chris Lowry
“That’s what I said,” Bob told them.
“We’re waiting,” said Keith. “We’re surviving together until the authorities get here.”
Steve nodded, but he didn’t look satisfied by that answer. Waiting was not in his nature.
Emma saw him take a breath to say something and snagged his sleeve.
“Let’s go get our food to turn in,” she said.
Steve frowned, but she tugged his sleeve again and by the look on her face, he didn’t want to argue with her. He slowly nodded and shuffled along with her.
“Need my help?” Bob called after them
“We’ve got it,” said Emma.
He watched them walk back toward the tent in front of the SUV, a look on his face that was easy to read, part longing, part envy.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“What did you do that for?” Steve asked when they were out of earshot.
“Don’t rock the boat,” she said.
“We’re on land.”
“Even worse,” Emma told him. “We’re going to try and get along with everyone here.”
“I can get along.”
“Can you?”
Steve shrugged.
“If I try, I can.”
“Will you?”
“Are you going to just keep asking me questions to try and get the answers you want?”
She nodded.
“Okay,” said Steve as he waited for her to fish the keys out of her jeans and click the unlock button on the fob.
He opened the rear door.
“How much?” she asked.
He sorted through the food, setting aside enough for a couple of days for the three of them, and put the rest in a box.
“Less than half,” he said.
Emma looked back at the campsite.
“All these people,” she said. “It could get bad out here.”
Steve hoisted the box and shut the back door.
“That’s why they’re rationing, I bet.”
“What will we do?”
“Our best,” he told her. “Besides, I don’t see anyone fishing and that lake has to be packed.”
“Are you going to tell them that?”
“Maybe,” said Steve. “Or maybe I’ll show them. Lead by example.”
She followed him back to the pavilion.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Steve placed the box on the crowded table, noting the contents of the others nested next to it.
It was an abundance of canned goods, boxed goods, and other food items like he had seen at a food drive the Lacrosse team organized every Thanksgiving.
He stepped back and noticed Knob standing by the water. There was a man next to him, one of the ones from the pavilion earlier, but Steve struggled to remember his name.
The man had a fishing pole and was showing Bob how to cast into the still water of the lake.
“That’s a good idea,” he said aloud.
“What?” Emma stopped next to him.
“Fishing,” said Steve.
He looked over the boxes again.
“They’re using it to supplement,” he said.
“Yes,” said Jimmy Ray. “We’re trying to get ahead of it early.”
He studied Steve for a moment, taking his measure, as if he was surprised the boy noticed.
“Ahead of?” Emma asked in a soft voice.
“There’s not much food here,” said Steve.
“It’s a table full,” Emma answered.
“We have enough for a week,” said Jimmy Ray.
He glanced around at the campers, the tents and the people in the campground. Some looked busy, but a lot more were sitting outside of their respective abodes.
“Maybe two,” the ranger continued.
“Then what?” Steve asked.
The older man shrugged.
“Then it gets tough.”
“This thing isn’t even a week old,” Steve started to argue, but stopped as Jimmy Ray shook his head.
“Here it’s just a week,” he said. “But out there, it’s been longer.”
“On the other side of the lake?”
“Other states,” the ranger said. “We heard rumors of it, then by the time someone tried to get ahead of it, it was too late.”
“What happened?”
Jimmy Ray shrugged and shook his head in such a sense of helplessness, Steve felt bad for asking.
“That’s just it,” he said. “We don’t know what happened. It’s all rumor and talk, but no one knows anything. Except this-“
He pointed to the campgrounds.
“Which might not last a week,” Emma said.
“It won’t,” Jimmy Ray told her. “Not once the food is gone.”
She wanted to feel shocked, but tried it and couldn’t. The matter of fact tone of his voice, combined with the last few nights for her left no room for surprise or shock or any of the other feelings that she thought she should be having.
Instead, there was a sense of resignation. This is how it was going to be. And resolve. Just another problem to solve in a series of problems.
She imagined there would be a lot more problems before it was all done.
“Why don’t you have more people fishing?” asked Steve. “Or hunting.”
Jimmy Ray grimaced.
“Because if he starts giving orders, people will get mad,” said Emma, reading his face.
“But you’re the leader here, right.”
Again the ranger grimaced.
“I’m an authority figure,” he said. “And people like to blame authority figures when things go wrong.”
“That’s crazy,” Steve started to say.
But then he remembered the abandoned cop cars and military roadblocks they came across.
“It is crazy,” Emma agreed. “Maybe if we told them about the situation, they would do more to help.”
“Some,” Jimmy Ray agreed. “But some might decide to take the food. Take from the weak, and then it becomes a riot.”
Bob yelled in joy from the side of the lake and held up a silver fish that flashed in the sunlight.
“Quiet,” Jimmy Ray whispered.
He stared at the trees on the other side of the lake, long shadows turned the forest into an impenetrable twilight after a few feet and he couldn’t see much further.
Bob rushed back toward the pavilion, holding the fish aloft like a treasure, a grin stretching his cheeks wide as his curly mane bounced.
“Patrol,” Jimmy Ray announced and left to circumnavigate the perimeter.
“Hey guys, look,” said Bob, presenting the fish in outstretched hands.
“We heard Knob,” said Steve. “We can’t yell like that anymore. They’ll hear you.”
“Who? Them?” he nodded toward Earl and a few others as they advanced on the pavilion.
Steve slowly turned his head to watch them.
“The dead ones,” Emma told Bob. “But yeah, them too.”
Earl sauntered past, giving the stink eye to Steve, a sneer plastered on his face.
“He’s gonna be trouble,” Steve said.
“Then we should make a plan,” said Emma.
“Plan for what?” Bob still held the fish.
“Making a run for it.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
They expected a week. They discussed it with Bob on the way back to the SUV and their tent.
Steve showed them the food he kept behind and Emma insisted they hide it better. Under blankets would be good, but under the seat and in a hidden space in the way back under the floor.
Then it was time for dinner.
Bob led the way to the pavilion. The sun was on its westward trajectory down.
“There’s kind of a curfew,” Bob told them. “Dwight said Jimmy Ray keeps everyone in their camps at night so it’s safer.”
“Sounds safe,” said Emma in a distracted sort of way. Like she was thinking of far off places.
“My fish is getting cut up and made into stew,�
�� Bob bragged.
“Were you the only one who caught anything?” Steve asked.
Bob shrugged.
“Probably,” he said. “But I don’t know.”
He added the last part in a low voice and when they reached the pavilion, they could see he was not the only one who had caught a fish that day.
The pot for stew was a large industrial model, stainless steel perched on a cast iron grill over a small fire.
Steve could see several more fires pop up in small iron rings in front of the campers and RV’s, and wondered again if they were just inviting trouble.
The smell of the fish stew filled the area around the pavilion, and the three teens joined a line. Emma handed them each a Styrofoam bowl and a plastic spoon and they waited for the watery mix to be ladled into them.
The fish was supplemented with canned vegatables and floating pieces of pasta, but there wasn’t much of it.
It took Bob less than three minutes to polish of his bowl, then he watched Emma and Steve while they ate, just in case they wanted to share.
“This is going to get bad,” said Emma.
“It’s not bad,” Bob said. “If you don’t want it, I’ll take yours.”
He reached out for the bowl, but Emma held it closer to her chest.
“She’s talking about this camp, Knob,” Steve said.
The three of them sat in a tight circle on the edge of the firelight.
“It was your idea to come here,” Bob said.
He ran his spoon across the bottom of the bowl again to scrape up any drops and bits he might have missed.
Steve looked at them both and lowered his head.
“I was wrong.”
Bob grinned.
“Quarterback punk,” he snorted.
“Wrong sport, Knob.”
Bob snickered.
“The idea’s the same. And I’ve never heard you say you were wrong before. Perfect? Yeah, you told me that. Amazing? Once or twice on a wedgie run. But wrong? I didn’t think you could say the word.”
“We were all wrong Bob,” said Emma. “We came here together.”
“I said we should find the Army,” Bob pointed with the spoon.
“Army’s gone,” said Earl.
They didn’t hear him sneak up on them as he plopped between Steve and Emma.
“All of them,” Earl growled. “Ain’t no one left to protect you.”
He leered at Emma.
Steve put his bowl down and reached for Earl’s shirt.
Ced and another guy dropped on either side of him, pinned his arms to his side.
Earl reached over and took Emma’s bowl from her hand.
“Like I said, we’s hungry,” he took the last few bites of her stew. “And you should share.”
His eyes roved over Emma.
“You like sharing, don’t you?”
Emma slapped him.
Earl held a hand to his bleeding lip and stared at the crimson stain on his pale skin.
“Alright then,” he held out her bowl.
When Emma reached for it, he punched her.
The blow knocked her sideways.
Steve tried to pounce, but the two other men held him tight.
Bob bellowed and surged toward Earl. He landed on top of him, tight fists pummeled the dirty man.
Three blows landed in awkward thumps before Earl rolled out from under Bob and shoved him away.
By that time, the struggle had attracted the other campers. Jimmy Ray ran from the other side of the pavilion and yanked Earl away from the teens.
Ced and the other guy let Steve go and he rushed to help Emma get up.
“We don’t need this Earl,” Jimmy Ray shoved the grimy man away.
“They got food Jimmy Ray,” Earl whined. “They holding out on us.”
“I saw what they brought,” Jimmy Ray shoved him back again.
“They still got more in their truck. We saw them hiding it. Ain’t that right Ced?”
Ced nodded.
Jimmy Ray glared at Steve.
“Is that true?”
“We gave you half,” said Steve.
“That ain’t all now is it,” Earl sneered.
“We don’t know you,” said Bob. “And I gave you all my fish.”
Jimmy Ray stared at the curly haired boy. The ridiculousness of it made him snort, and once he did, Keith and Dwight joined in.
“Yeah,” said Jimmy Ray. “You did give us the whole fish, didn’t you?”
“All of it,” said Bob.
He stood on the other side of Emma, holding her arm tight.
“See Earl,” Jimmy Ray said. “They’re trying. And they’re learning, which is more than I can say for you.”
“Screw you, Jimmy Ray,” said Earl. “Come on Ced.”
The three men marched back toward their truck.
Jimmy Ray moved closer to the teens.
“This won’t work if we can’t trust you,” he said. “It’s getting dark and I’ve got everyone on a curfew so we can stay safe. I want you to think about it tonight and let’s see where you stand in the morning.”
“You’re just going to let them get away with hitting her?” Steve asked.
Jimmy Ray watched him a minute.
“What do you want me to do?”
He said it in such a way Steve knew nothing would happen.
They watched him go and the crowd that had gathered around dispersed back to their campsites.
“We have to clean this up,” Keith called after Jimmy Ray as he stood by the pot.
“Leave it til morning,” Jimmy Ray said.
He picked his shotgun up from one of the tables and began patrolling the blacktop path.
Emma, Steve and Bob watched him go, then walked back to their tent in silence.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The fires in the iron rings in front of several campsites threw orange glows that flicked in the night.
But the large RV on one side cast their campsite in shadowed darkness. The dark windows of it and the vintage camper kept them from building a fire of their own.
“Where are they?” Bob wondered.
“Just focus, Knob,” Steve said.
“Yeah, I am. But don’t you think it’s weird.”
“It is weird, yes,” said Steve.
He stared into the darkness, willing his pupils to go even wider, wishing more light from the crescent moon and the blinking stars leaked through the overhead canopy of branches and leaves.
“But we’ve been here all day and no one’s gone in or out,” Bob whispered.
“You said that,” Steve told him.
“Yeah, but what does it mean?”
They didn’t see the men approach the tent. It was too dark.
One moment, it was silent and still, and the next, thudding whacks on nylon echoed across the campsite.
“Now,” said Steve.
Emma stepped on the brakes and bathed their tent in crimson light.
The three men attacking the empty tent with sticks and bats threw up their hands and arms to fight the glare.
Steve ran at them, a stick of his own in hand. He rammed the end into Ced’s gut and cracked him across his wounded skull with the other.
The third guy turned to run. His feet tangled in the collapsed fabric of the tent and he pitched forward with a yell that ended with a grunt.
Steve whacked him across the base of the head with the stick and spun into Earl.
Earl danced back and brought his stick up to parry the blow.
The man and the teen whacked and cracked at each other with the sticks.
