Betty vaulted over the side of the truck. Nash followed behind her to join Little Billie walking toward the pile of concrete and twisted steel that his quasi-military unit had bulldozed aside, opening traffic for a single westbound lane on Interstate-40. Rather than using the on-off ramps, rutted paths in the median showed where some eastbound travelers utilized a short stretch of the westward lane to get around the blockage.
Beside the huge pile of debris, Nash stood with hands on hips, staring up at the ragged rebar jutting from the sagging concrete of the remaining half of the bridge above their heads. Large areas of concrete, dislodged from the span, allowed him the see through to the cloudy sky. Speaking to Billie, he said, “I see what you mean. If the support on the median weren’t standing, the rest of the bridge spanning these lanes would come down. That support looks extremely sturdy to me. Are you sure explosives will do the trick?”
Little Billie, nodded and pointed to the support. “See how it’s cracked and leaning slightly toward the missing section. About three feet up, I’ll strap ten pounds of C-4 in a circle around it. Eight or ten feet above that charge, I’ll put another ten pounds on the backside of the lean to give it a shove. It’ll come down alright.”
Betty asked, “Won’t you need a ladder?”
Billie said, “I can pull the truck up to it and stand on the roof of the cab.”
Maria, who belated joined them, took Betty’s hand and said, “Honey, the men can mess with the exploding stuff. There hasn’t been much traffic, but someone could come along at any time. Way the world is now, trouble is always just around the corner. Let’s get a meal ready. You can guard while Torrie and I cook.”
Betty went with her to the truck, but Nash could tell by her backward glances that her desire was to be part of setting the explosives. He in turn responded to Little Billie’s suggestion that they retrieve the C-4, and other items needed and they followed the women.
Billie carried the explosive to the support and Nash brought the small detonators and roll of wire. At the bridge support, he almost fainted when Billie offhandedly dropped the package of C-4 to the ground.
“Jeez man, that’s explosives you’re tossing.”
Little Billie chuckled. “Shoots, I handle lots of explosives back on the farm. Daddy loved blowing stumps out of the ground. He once traded a cow for a few pounds of C-4 and some detonators. That stuff’s stable as heck.” Then taking a folding knife from his pocket, “Matter of fact, let me show you something.”
Using the knife he opened the carton of explosive, removed an individually wrapped block. Without opening the plastic wrapper, he cut off a thin slice of C-4 about the size of a quarter. Setting the slice on the ground, he produced his lighter and offered it to Nash. “You wanna light it?”
Nash shook his head. “I believe you if you say it’s stable, but let’s not play with the stuff.”
“Not playing with it; Showing you something.” He bent and applied flame to the edge of the slice. After a moment, it blazed, giving off light brilliant enough to make Nash turn away. Along with the light came a strong, but not an exactly unpleasant, chemical odor.
“It does burn bright,” Nash said.
Billie kicked the burning chunk toward a nearby slab of broken concrete. “Bright, hot and burns for a long time. You can use it to warm food, make a cup of coffee or light a pile of wood when you’re in a bind for tinder or kindling. You’ll find it handy to keep a bit in your pack.”
Nash glanced at the still burning C-4 and realized Little Billie had indeed imparted a wonderful bit of lore. “Thank you Little Billie. Would you mind cutting off a couple hunks for Betty and I.”
Billie reached for his pocketknife. “Sure thing… Hey, look… You don’t need to call me Little Billie. Little Billie is my nickname. Maria likes it, but Billie is easier on my ears.
“No problem”, Nash responded. Accepting the small pieces of explosive from Billie’s hand, he asked, “Just put em in my pocket? Do you know if the stuff’s hygroscopic?”
“Hygroscopic? Don’t know what that is.”
“Means a material can absorb water, even water from the air or sweat. If it soaks through the cloth, will the C-4 irritate my skin?”
Little Billie said, “Whoa, it sure does soak water from the air. I keep mine in a plastic bag.” He used his knife to cut wide strips of wrapper from the rectangular block. “Wrap em in these.”
They used a ratcheting tie down strap to secure the blocks of explosive to the support. When Nash went for the truck so he and Billie could set the higher charges, Maria and Betty groused about having to move the camp stove and food off the tailgate of the truck. He assured them he’d bring it back the moment they finished setting the explosive.
Using his pocketknife to make holes, Billie had already planted detonators into several of the blocks. When he climbed from the bed onto top of the truck cab, his weight caused the metal surface of it to bend, lowering the head clearance inside the cab by six inches.
After placing and securing the higher up charge, he pushed a detonator into the mass and had Nash pass him the end of the thin communication wire.
Calling for Nash to watch, he said, “Always touch the bare ends of the wire together to ground off any static before connecting the detonator.”
He climbed down from the truck cab and finished connecting the rest of the detonators, showing Nash how to wire them in parallel so the blast would be simultaneous. Twisting the wire for the last connection, he said, “I need to stay here to make sure nothing pulls loose. Unwind the wire over to where we stopped.”
Nash walked backwards, using his hands in a tossing motion to unwind the wire as he went. Billie called a suggestion, “Find a stick to put through the hole and you’ll have an easier time of it. I’ll bring the truck back to the camp.”
Billie climbed into the truck and Nash heard the sharp sound of him pushing the roof of the cab back in place.
Betty and Maria ate their meal sitting on the folding canvas chairs Billie tossed into the rear bed before heading out. Torrie sat on the ground beside Maria’s chair.
Billie took the tailgate of the truck, using his lap for a plate holder. Nash, eying the small space beside Billie’s huge bulk, decided to use the flat top of the fender as a table.
Again, Maria had proven her ability to turn canned food into gourmet fare. No one spoke while savoring the first bites. The sun broke through the clouds and Nash enjoyed the feel of it warming his shoulders. Maria was the first to speak.
Pointing, she asked, “Is there enough wire to reach that group of trees?”
Billie lifted his eyes from his heavy loaded plate. Estimating the distance, he gave a noncommittal answer. “Maybe… We’ll see after we eat.”
“I don’t see any other place for me and Torrie to hide.”
Nash turned to eye the distance. Even after two years of neglect, the push of nature had left the medians and gores of the roadway mostly clear of high overgrowth, and in fact the only near place of concealment was the grouping of trees almost two hundred feet from where he and Billie set the charges. Having carried the roll of wire, thinking of how much spooled off to reach the truck, he didn’t think there was enough left to reach that point.
Betty saw the doubting expression on his face. “You may as well try it. You won’t rest easy until you do. Get it done so you can finish your meal in peace.”
The end of the wire spooled off fifteen-feet shy of the nearest tree. It needed at least twenty feet more than that to reach a place deep enough into the trees for the low branches to shield Maria and Torrie from travelers on the freeway.
Nash rejoined the group by the truck.
“Came up short,” Maria, said, stating the obvious. “Close enough though. We can hide in the woods until we hear you coming back with the buses. If the gang’s chasing you all, I’m sure I’ll be able to hear your engines gunning. After you pass under the bridge, I’ll run out and blow it.”
Then, speaking to Billie
, she asked, “Is it easy to make it blow up?”
“Yeah, one end of the wire will already be connected to the battery. All you’ll need to do is touch the free end to the other post. As soon as we eat, we need to get the truck out of sight and catch some sleep while we wait for the convoy to show. I figure we’re in for a long night.”
Torrie, who very seldom spoke, said, “I brought dominoes with me. Does anyone want to play?”
Nash swallowed his last bite and responded to her question. “I love playing dominoes. Tell you what, after we set up camp I’ll take first watch and we’ll have a go at each other.” He held up his plastic plate and cast a quizzical glance Maria’s way.
“Wipe it with leaves. I‘ll do the dishes in the trees.”
Betty stood, reached for Maria’s empty plate to put with hers. “You did the cooking; all I did was stand guard. I’ll take care of the dishes.”
The outskirts of Maria’s chosen grove of trees growing in the long, sloping, unpaved space between the freeway and the exit ramp proved dense with low-limbed cedar trees and undergrowth. Inside this natural shielding, oaks spread their limbs to create shade, left the space beneath them free of smaller trees. The only ground cover was a thick carpet of leaves and fallen branches.
“This will serve,” Maria said. Pointing, “That’s where to put the tent. Clear the hard debris and throw more leaves to soften the ground.”
After erecting a lightweight nylon tent on the relatively flat spot on the slope, slinging his rifle, Nash went with Billie to hide the truck, leaving the women to organize the camp to their liking.
Heaving himself into the cab to join him, Billie sat for a moment staring straight ahead. Turning to Nash, he said, “I have a hard time talking in front of a bunch of people.” He paused another long moment before saying. “I was a member of that damn gang. For the longest, I had no part of the dirty business. Believe it or not, I was a cook. It wasn’t until a month ago, after I pissed off Colonel Haskins by refusing to let one of his officers have a go with Maria that I had to go out with raiding parties sacking farms and homesteaders for supplies.”
Nash’s reply was harsh. “A decent, self-respecting man would have never joined that bunch.”
Billie’s reply was equally harsh. “I wasn’t a decent, self-respecting man, at least not until Maria came along.
“I’ve been with the unit for four months. In the beginning, I fit right in. Keep in mind, like Maria said, I’m not a deep thinker. I grew up on a farm down near Finger, a town not too far from here.
“One of Colonel Haskins’ scavenging patrols stopped at our farm. We were so poor they didn’t take the two possums Grandpa caught the night before. They took me. Told my older brother, John, my sisters, and Grandpa and Grandma, that the Army needed me. They didn’t want John because of his bum leg. He got kicked by our horse and the bone didn’t set right.
I went with them willing. I was bored, me and my brother were always feuding; I was glad for an excuse to leave. I remember thinking I was off on a great adventure. Mainly though, I thought about Torrie having regular meals.”
Nash spoke over Billie’s last words. “Okay, I get it. You’ve seen the light, and turned over a new leaf. The proof of that lies in your future. Right now, would you mind cranking? We need to hide this truck and get back to our women.
Not able to find a suitable place to hide the truck close to where Maria and Torrie’ would hide, Nash and Billie hid it in plain sight; simply parking it near the grove of trees and opening the hood to make it look broken down. They smeared mud here and there on the sides to enhance the effect.
Joining the women inside the grove, Nash saw that in addition to the folding chairs they were occupying, they had manhandled a large section of fallen log into position, propping the ends to elevate it to provide additional seating space.
Torrie was sitting on it. Nash sat at the opposite end of the log. Billie lowered his bulk gingerly, testing the impromptu bench. It noticeably sagged. Standing back up, he rummaged the ground for more material to support the middle and tried again. This time it took his weight. “You all did a nice job of making a camp. Too bad we can’t have a campfire. I like the smell of wood burning.”
Betty responded, “Yeah, I do too, but it doesn’t take a person long to find out that smoke draws attention.”
“You say that like you’re speaking from experience,” Billie said.
“Oh, I most definitely am. Long story though. Let’s concentrate on the here and now. If the convoy leaves at ten this evening, what time do you think they will arrive here?”
Billie shrugged and said, “Can’t pin it to an exact time. Best guess, between eleven and midnight.”
Nash’s glance at his windup watch prompted the others to do the same. He noted that Torrie was the only one without a timepiece. Speaking to Betty, he said, “Hon, Torrie needs a watch. Give her one of our spares.”
Playfully, Betty saluted Nash and said, “One watch, coming up, Sir.” She stood and went to her pack, motioning for Torrie to follow her. “Come on, you can pick out the one you want.”
Watching the interplay between Nash and Betty, Billie commented, “You sure have yourself a good-natured woman.”
His comment prompted Nash to remind him, “Wife, Billie. She’s my wife, not my woman. There’s a huge difference. Binding through marriage is a twinning of souls. As far as her being good-natured, only to people with good character, otherwise she’ll kill you. She’s not the sort to leave evil standing on two feet. She leaves em stretched out flat-dead on the ground.”
Betty spoke from where she and Torrie were sorting through a pouch of windup watches she and Nash scavenged from a pawnshop back in Georgia not long after the plague reared its ugly self. “You got that right. I don’t leave murdering, raping, or thieving degenerates drawing breath.”
In a tremulous voice, Torrie asked, “How many people have you killed?”
Betty answered without hesitation, “Hundreds. I’m sure I’ll kill hundreds more unless a bullet finds me first. The plague sure brought out the evil that lives inside the hearts of men.”
“Men and women,” Nash corrected. “We’ve pulled the trigger on plenty of both.”
Maria said, “You sure are a bloodthirsty couple.”
Nash shook his head. “No, we don’t thirst for trouble; Do our best to avoid it; but we’ll damn sure let blood that deserves letting. Take that bunch of scum back at the ambush. If all of Colonel Haskins men were in a line in front of us, Betty and I would put lead in every one of them. You can call it bloodthirsty, but we consider it cleansing the world of filth.”
Maria voiced a contrary opinion, “Most of those with Colonel Haskins aren’t involved in the killing and robbing. Lots of them are teenagers and young men and women who simply know no other way to live in this mess since the plague. Especially for the younger ones, anarchy is the norm.”
Nash shook his head, “Every man jack of them knows exactly what the gang is doing. When I say gang, the term is appropriate. Murderers, thieves and rapists is what that pile of trash represents and presents to those unlucky enough to fall for their traps or encounter their scavenging crews. You run with the devil, condone and profit in any way from the pain and suffering they deal, then death is what you have coming.”
Maria, obviously angered, but trying to keep her voice calm, replied to Nash, “I’m not defending the actions of Colonel Haskins or his troops. I’m only saying…”
Little Billie interrupted her. “He’s right, Maria. We all knew where our supplies came from. We took. That what the unit did. It’s easy to fall into; safety, a full belly, a warm, dry place to sleep. That was the price of my soul. Now I need to start paying for what I took.
“I want to be a good man. I don’t want decent people to think of me as trash. Instead of preying on them like an animal, I need to give, to help people who need it. That’s what we talked about; exactly what Nash and Betty are saying.”
Maria stoo
d and went to where Billie was sitting, put her hands on his shoulders and said, “You’re not trash. You just need someone to point you in the right direction. You’re a good man. I love you and your daughter.” Dropping her hands to her side, she turned to speak to Nash and Betty. “Billie hasn’t lived the life of a saint, but he’s willing to atone for his sins. All I was saying is that some of Haskins’ men and women are salvageable given the right influence.”
Nash stood from his end of the log. “That’s almost always the case with a large gang, Maria, but we’re in survival mode, not the salvage business.”
Maria put up her hands in surrender. “Okay. I won’t say anymore. I haven’t walked in your shoes. Until Little Billie found me hiding out in my grandfather’s hunting cabin, except for some rough moments while driving there in the turmoil at the beginning of the plague, my isolation spared me from the chaos of what happened in the aftermath.”
Torrie joined Maria and Billie at the improvised bench. Holding up her arm to show off her new wristwatch, she asked, “What time is it, Daddy?”
Billie glanced at her watch. “We’ll need to teach you how to tell time. It’s five-fifteen.” Tilting his head to look at the sky, he said, “It’ll be dark soon. What we need to do is make sure Maria and Torrie are settled in proper and then Nash and me and Betty need get our weapons ready for when we follow the convoy.”
“We’re squared away here,” Maria said. “There’s two hours or more before sunset. Don’t you think you should nap?” Torrie and I can keep an eye on things.”
Betty agreed. “Yeah, I didn’t get any quality sleep last night.”
Nash turned to Torrie. “I promised you a game of Dominoes. An hour of play won’t cut my nap too much. You want to fetch them?”
Maria motioned for Torrie to stay put. “I know where they’re packed. I’ll join the game if it’s okay.”
Little Billie attempted to stand from the log. Shifting his weight put stress on the rotted, makeshift bench, and despite the center bracing, it broke, spilling him backwards onto the ground. It was so comically clumsy, Nash couldn’t help laughing even as he extended a hand to help him gain his feet.
Working With Cedar: A Post Apocalyptic Tale Page 12
