A good project for tomorrow, he decided. He had enough to deal with today.
In the Martins’ back yard, he tried melting the two feet of snow with the blow torch. It put off enough heat to melt it quickly, but only the snow within a few inches of the flame. He was disappointed. He had hoped for a better result, so he had to give it a shot. But he’d known better than to get his hopes up.
So he did it the old fashioned way. With a snow shovel. And an aching back.
It took him two hours to clear a patch in the middle of the back yard twelve feet square. He stood back and looked at his handiwork.
“Yep,” he said to himself. “That should do it.”
He walked around to the front door, which he’d left unlocked from the last time he was here. Into the house and into the garage, where he pulled the handle to release the garage door from its electric door opener.
He walked to the overhead door and lifted it up, as the piled up snow outside the door rushed in on his feet.
His plan was to take the bodies through the house. He didn’t need the garage door open for his removal of the bodies. But it would come in handy for the light it would provide. For even though the daytime sky was still a milk chocolaty brown, it was still lighter than the blackness within the garage. And any light, no matter how weak, that found its way into the garage, would help a little.
He started with his old friend Ed, sitting in the driver’s seat, stiff as a board, with his eyes closed and a look of serenity on his face. Frank couldn’t help but wonder how much easier it would have been to drag Ed’s corpse if he had died laying down flat instead of in the seated position.
Maneuvering him through the doorways was the hardest part. It was not unlike dragging a recliner through a house, and having to figure out what was the best way to position it to get it through each doorway.
All the while, of course, Frank had to remember that this was once a human being, and a dear friend. He tried his best to let Ed retain some semblance of dignity, by ensuring that he didn’t bump his head or face, as he dragged him to the back yard.
Linda was a lot easier to move, for a couple of reasons. First, because she was a petite woman, half of Ed’s weight and considerably smaller. And also because out of the side of his eye when he went back into the garage, in the dark corner of the garage, Frank happened to notice something that made his job a lot easier.
He had no idea why the Martins would have a wheelchair folded up in the corner of their garage. They were both in good health before they departed this life. He knew that Linda’s mother, who’d lived in a nursing home before Saris 7 hit, was in poor health. Perhaps the wheelchair was for periodic visits to the nursing home to take her mom out for a day shopping, or out to eat.
In any event, Frank wished he’d found the wheelchair before he moved Ed.
Linda and the girls were much easier to move. The only problem was that their bodies, frozen hard as stone, refused to sink softly into the leather seat as a living body would have done. They rocked back and forth as Frank wheeled them through the house, and Linda almost fell out a couple of times.
In the end, though, he managed to get them to their final destination. They were lined up, the parents on the outside and the girls in the middle, as though Ed and Linda were still protecting their children even in death. Lying on their backs, with their knees raised up halfway to their chests, as though they exited this life doing some sort of macabre sit-up.
He left them there, like that, because he was just too exhausted to finish the job.
He knew they were safe from dogs or other predators. He hadn’t seen any animals, save Joe Smith’s dog three doors down, in weeks. He knew they’d all frozen or starved to death.
He’d come back in a few days with a wheelbarrow and a sledge hammer. He’d swing the sledgehammer at the bottom few rows of the brick façade that covered the front and two sides of the Martin home.
Then, when the wall cracked and popped and started to give way, he’d stand back and let the bricks collapse into a large pile. And then he’d load them into the wheelbarrow and make as many trips into the back yard as it took.
As many as it took to cover the bodies in a large burial mound.
He’d have preferred not to do it this way. He’d lived in New Orleans for a time as a youth, and the whole concept of above-ground burial was just something he found… creepy. But with the ground frozen solid, he knew this was the only way. Even cremation wasn’t an option. As cold as it was, a fire would not get hot enough to reduce a corpse to ashes. It would burn it, sure, as long as the body provided the fuel. But once the meat and fat were gone, the bones would be left to deal with. And even getting a frozen body to burn at all would require an awful lot of precious wood.
No, this way was best. When the thaw came, the brick burial mound would protect the bodies from being consumed by whatever buzzards or other scavengers might survive the freeze. And they’d be hidden from view while they slowly rotted into dust.
Frank carefully made his way back to his house. As he neared it, he heard someone call out his name. He turned around to find Joe Smith and Jesse Martinez approaching.
Jesse said, “Hey, Frank. Haven’t seen you in a couple of days. we were starting to worry about you.”
Frank managed a chuckle, despite what he’d just done at the Martin house.
“Oh, don’t you worry about me. Only the good die young. I’ll live forever.”
Joe piped in.
“Frank, do you think you’ll be ready to go tomorrow, late morning?”
“I have to clear my roof tomorrow and that’ll take most of the day. The next day is better for me. Do you have enough food to hold out until then?”
Joe said, “We do,” and looked at Jesse. Jesse shook his head yes.
Frank didn’t particularly relish his role as defacto leader for the families left on his street. But he was a natural leader, after all, and he had a good head on his shoulders.
And he didn’t panic in a crisis like most men did. So he understood why they looked to him for guidance and advice.
And at least with himself leading the way, he didn’t have to worry about following somebody else’s harebrained methods of survival which might or might not work. At least Frank was confident in his own ability to find ways to survive. And to help others do likewise.
Frank asked Joe, “Are you still watching Symco?”
“Oh, yes. Checking it several times a day and at night too.”
“No activity? No vehicles? No smoke?”
“None. The snow has drifted so high over there that you’d have to have four wheel drive to get anywhere near the place. And there aren’t any vehicle tracks, any snow pushed out of the way, anything to indicate anybody’s been in and out of there.”
Frank said, “Good. Why don’t y’all come over tomorrow night? We’ll have what’s left of our coffee and sit in front of the fire and make out our plans. How about just before nightfall?”
“Okay, good. We’ll see you then, Frank.”
Chapter 14
Scott was on watch in the south trailer, peering through the peep hole, when he saw a familiar figure driving slowly toward the compound on a four wheel drive Gator. He keyed the microphone on his walkie talkie and said, “Marty, you there?”
“Yeah, buddy. What’s up?”
“Lenny’s driving up on the south.”
“10-4.”
Lenny walked up to the compound and yelled “Hello in the camp!”
The generator happened to be running in the corner of the compound, charging the oversized batteries that ran their floodlights. Had they not known Lenny was out there, the noise from the generator would have kept him from being heard.
But the security system Marty had set up was pretty effective. It was difficult for anyone to walk up to the compound without being spotted. And almost impossible for them to get in without being invited.
Marty went to the back of the center trailer on the south wa
ll. One by one he pulled the five sheets of plywood that served as protection from bullets, and let them drop onto the ground. Then he squatted down and crawled on his hands and knees the full length of the trailer.
Once he was free of the trailer he stood up and greeted Lenny.
“Hey, Lenny, what’s up?”
“I was wondering if your offer to join you still stood.”
Marty grew just a bit suspicious and his eyebrow went up.
“Why? I thought you liked your place in the truck stop.”
“Well, I did. I do. It’s just that… well, it’s not as safe as I thought it was.
“We put signs on the door to let people know there’s nothing inside worth stealing, but people keep coming by anyway. Sometimes three or four groups a day. They travel in packs, and they’re all heavily armed. They show up in Hummers or Land Rovers or other four wheel drive vehicles, and go through the truck stop looking for things to steal. And they go through the trailers and take whatever they want.
“Have they been violent?”
“Not yet. I mean they haven’t shot me yet. But there have been a couple of times when they were pissed off because there was no food for them. And I thought they might take it out on me. I figure it’s only a matter of time before one of them gets so mad they just blow me away.”
“If we let you in, you’ll have to carry your share of the load. You’ll have to pull your share of guard duty, and help keeping the campfire burning, and gathering stuff that will burn. You can’t come in if you’re going to be a slacker.”
“Hell, you know me, Marty. You know I’m a good worker.”
“I know you are, Lenny. If it was up to me alone I’d say sure. But it wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t check with the others.”
“I understand. If you think it’ll help, tell them I’m willing to buy my way in.”
“How so?”
“I’ve been spending my days going through all the trailers in the yard. I’ve been picking the good stuff out of them and putting it a little at a time in two busted up trailers in the back field.”
“None of your visitors have found the stuff?”
“Oh, hell no. They can see the trailers from the truck stop, but they’re a hundred yards away, leaning on their sides from flat tires, and beat all to hell. Even from a hundred yards away it’s easy to tell they’re junk trailers.”
“What kind of stuff are you talking about?”
“Cigarettes. dozens of cases of them. Enough to feed a pack a day habit for years. And they won’t go stale because of the twenty five degree temperatures. Also booze. Lots of it. Rum, gin, whiskey. Tequila. Alcohol don’t freeze, so none of the bottles have shattered. And even when it’s not cold it lasts for years.”
Lenny winked and smiled a conspiratorial grin.
“But that’s not the best part. Not at all.”
“Go on.”
“Microwaveable TV dinners. Thousands of them. All kinds of varieties. I know y’all have been cooking most of your meals over a campfire, in a stew pot. No more of that crap. Pop these babies in the microwave in your sleeper cab and two minutes later you have a piping hot meal.”
Marty had to admit he was tired of cooking frozen fried chicken over a campfire. Even after all this time he wasn’t very good at it. More often than not it was burned to a crisp on the outside and still icy in the middle.
“How many of those you got?”
“Enough to feed all of us for at least a year.”
“Wait here. Give me five minutes.”
Marty’s mouth watered as he crawled back under the trailer and back into the camp. He’d run out of cigarettes two weeks before and had been irritable and moody. He tried to tell himself he was better off without cigarettes, that he didn’t really need them. But he didn’t realize how much he missed them until he was presented with the prospect of getting them back again.
Back in the compound, he stood up and yelled for the rest to gather around.
They were all anxious to welcome Lenny into the camp except for Scott Burley. He’d been slimming down for awhile, trying to make himself more attractive so he could make a pass at Tina. Marty had confided in him that Joe couldn’t satisfy his wife’s needs, and that she had an insatiable desire for sex. Tina also confided in Marty that she’d considered sharing her charms with Scott, except that he was too fat for her tastes.
So from Scott’s twisted point of view, another man coming into the camp meant additional competition. Especially a young and skinny guy like Lenny. Scott didn’t like the idea at all. But he had to admit he liked the prospect of eating microwave dinners and tipping back a bottle of bourbon in the privacy of his sleeper cab. He’d keep trying to slim down, and maybe in a few more weeks he’d be able to tip back that bottle with Tina.
“Sure. Let’s do it,” he said, making the decision unanimous.
Marty said to Joe and Scott, “You two go get those conveyor pieces out of that trailer on the north side. The ones with the rollers. Do you remember which trailer you saw them in?”
Joe said, “Yeah, it’s the second one from the east end.”
While Joe and Scott were lining up rollers underneath the trailer, Marty rode on Lenny’s Gator to the trashed out trailers where he had his goodies stashed. They spent the rest of the day loading cases of goods onto the Gator, then driving it back to the compound. They unloaded the goods into a large pile and went back for more, while Joe and Scott rolled them one case at a time along the line of rollers and into the compound.
They shut down operations one time, when off in the distance they caught a vague glimpse of a vehicle pulling into the truck stop. But in the haze of the chocolate brown sky, they knew they couldn’t be seen from that distance as long as they weren’t moving. So they sat down and took a smoke break until the vehicle pulled back out onto Interstate 10. It was the sweetest cigarette Marty had smoked in years, and just the pleasure of savoring it almost brought tears to his eyes.
By the end of the day, as the little yellow marble in the sky set in the west, they wrapped up operations. They knew it would be pitch dark soon, and they needed to get back in the camp and reseal it. They didn’t get all of the goods, but they got more than half. Every one of them was sore, so they’d wait a couple of days before they finished the job.
Lenny had no sleeper cab to sleep in like the others. He pulled a winter sleeping bag and half a dozen blankets from a Walmart trailer and bedded down for the night next to the campfire. It wasn’t the best of accommodations, but he’d make something better tomorrow. When he went to sleep, he slept like a baby. It was the first time in a long time he could sleep peacefully, secure in the knowledge that he was in a safe place protected by others. And that he wouldn’t be murdered in his sleep by a band of hoodlums who might show up at the truck stop looking for easy loot, then taking it out on him when they couldn’t find any.
Tina, for her part, had been watching Lenny in the waning hours of the day. Joe noticed, but wouldn’t say anything to her about it. He knew he was powerless to control her hunger. Lenny was the only one in the compound who didn’t know it, but within a day or two he’d be spending quality time with Tina in the back of one of the half-empty trailers. Tina couldn’t wait. She watched him sleep, and thought to herself, “Get your rest, baby, and get your strength back. You’re gonna need it.”
Chapter 15
Sarah and Sami were babysitting little Markie while doing their annual food inventory. Neither of them were moms, and when they volunteered to care for him for the day while Hannah got over a vicious cold they didn’t realize what they were in for.
They said, “How hard could it be?”
Famous last words…
Markie was two now, and beginning to speak in sentences. His favorite sentence these days, though, was “No!”
He was developing a mind of his own, and was learning that he could voice his opinion when he didn’t want to do something.
Sami tried to reason with him.
“Markie, sit right there on that box while Sarah and I count these other stacks of boxes.”
“No! Don’t want to.”
Sarah tried her luck.
“Markie, I’ll give you a horsey ride if you’ll sit there quietly until we’re finished.”
“No! Don’t want horsey ride!”
Sarah made a shocked face, as though she couldn’t believe he didn’t want a horsey ride.
Her face amused him, and he paused. Then he said, “Bullshit!”
This time Sarah’s face truly did express shock. She looked at Sami, who dropped her clipboard and her jaw at the same time.
“Did you teach him that?”
Sarah said, “No way, not me. I’ve never heard him say that before. I promise.”
Markie saw the concern they had about the word, and said, “Bullshit! Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.”
Sarah was getting alarmed.
“Markie, shhhhhh. That’s not a nice word.”
“Bullshit, bullshit, buulllllllssshhhiitttttt.”
Markie was having a blast. The girls failed to see the humor.
Sami looked at her friend and said, “Oh, my God! What if Hannah thinks we taught him that? She’ll kill us!”
Markie said “Mommy kill you guys!” Then he burst into laughter.
Sami had an idea.
“Markie, if you sit on those boxes while we finish our count, I’ll take you over to where the animals are and let you chase the chickens around. Okay?”
Markie paused and looked at her.
“I chase chickens?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
He smiled.
“I chase chickens. Bullshit. Hahahahaha!”
Markie entertained himself by repeating his new word over and over again while he jumped and down on the box he was supposed to be sitting on.
Then, just as the girls were finishing up, they heard Markie yelling “Whee!”
They turned around to see him completely naked, slowly spinning around while peeing a huge circle around his body.
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