by S. Ison
Perhaps they were all drugged up? Maybe that was why they acted so crazy. He was stumped. How they could act so horrifically?
Charmain put a hand on his arm, and when he looked at her, she indicated they should move back and away. He pulled himself away from the split tree and began to move away with Charmain, slowly, quietly.
The farther they got from the tragic scene, the quicker her pace was, and Larry kept up, not wanting to be anywhere near that nightmare.
They remained vigilant for several hours. The day was drawing to a close, and he knew they would have to stop for the night soon. Traveling in the dark was dangerous.
The cat they’d seen earlier in the day wasn’t anywhere to be seen, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t another cat out there somewhere. He trusted Charmain to get them to someplace safe.
They were heading upward, back into the mountains. Their pace was fast now, as they wanted to put a lot of distance between themselves and that group. He was sure they would stay put. They didn’t seem to want to leave their little clearing.
At least, he hoped so. And, with darkness coming, he hoped they would be reluctant to venture out into the woods.
As they crossed a small stream, Charmain spoke for the first time, her voice soft and calm. “There’s a small declivity about half a mile from here. Let’s fill our canteens and head up there. We can settle in for the night there.”
Larry squatted and filled his canteen. He bent forward to take a drink from the fast-moving stream. The water was sweet and cold. It made his teeth ache, but was wonderful and refreshing. Charmain did the same.
He could smell the earth now, and sank his hands into wet leaves. It was pleasant, and calmed his nerves a bit. His body seemed to vibrate with tension. They were far away from those bastards. But for how long? his mind asked.
Topsfield, Maine
Kelly was in the greenhouse, clearing out some of the weeds that had taken root and poked up through the boards she’d laid down several years before. The long, cold winter had killed them finally. She smiled wryly. She could grow weeds like nobody’s business, but veggies were another matter.
Tim was out hunting with the pups. They had so much energy that it was difficult to keep them calm in the cabin at times. Two large puppies could do a lot of damage in a small cabin.
Earlier, Chloe – she had finally settled on a name for the kitten, and it suited the busy creature – had rocked back and forth, her small back arched and soft fur bristled up. Schrodinger’s Cat, her muzzle in a fierce snarl, had caught the kitten in her large maw and gently slung her back and forth. This had set Chloe to even greater acts of aggression. After a while, the kitten tired and curled into her surrogate mother.
Schrodinger’s Cat was now basking in the sun, her large brown eyes closed in contentment. Between naps, she would lick the dozing kitten nestled between her paws. Kelly wondered idly if she would lick the kitten bald.
As it turned out, Chloe’s eyes were a brilliant blue.
The ground was bare, the sun finally melting some of the low spots in the yard. Near the south tree line, where the shadows stayed longer, were higher mounds of snow. It was warm today, near forty degrees, and no wind, which was quite nice.
Kelly pulled the black pots out from the greenhouse and lined them up on the ground. There was a fire going in the firepit, and a coffee pot sitting warm. She and Tim had started sitting out in the mornings to drink their coffee, using two canvas camp chairs they’d scrounged from an abandoned home in the fall. The temps were slowly climbing, and it was too nice outside to stay indoors.
The afternoon sun on her face felt wonderful, and Kelly turned and lifted her face directly toward the sun, her eyes closed in bliss. She inhaled deeply, the hint of spring in the air sending a thrill through her. They’d survived the long winter.
Tim would be back shortly. They planned fried rabbit for dinner, and it would be nice to eat al fresco this evening.
Schrodinger’s Cat made a low bark, drawing Kelly’s attention. She stood motionless, and listened. Chickadees and dark eyed juncos chittered in the trees. Then she heard the rumble of an engine. Someone was coming. It was so strange to hear an engine after the months of quiet.
Walking over, she picked Chloe up and took the kitten into the house. The baby was warm and limp in her hands, exhausted from her play. Kelly smiled down at the kitten. “You’re a hot mess, little girl,” she said, kissing the soft head. She laid the kitten on the couch and went back outside.
She then went over to a camp chair and stood behind it. Pulling her gun, she checked it, then held it down by her side, hiding it behind the chair. She didn’t know who it might be, but she wasn’t going to be caught unarmed. She called Schrodinger’s Cat to her, and told the dog to sit and wait.
It didn’t take long for the vehicle to come around the stand of naked trees. It was a large cab Ram truck with large studded tires. In it were four men.
Kelly wondered where Tim was.
CHAPTER NINE
Isle of Palms, South Carolina
Randal and Clive arrived, having ridden their bikes, at the blockade in the early afternoon. Johnny Lee was leaning against one of the many vehicles that were set up to block access to the Isle of Palms. Several other men and teens stood at various vantage points, keeping watch.
Johnny Lee raised a hand in greeting. Randal got off his bike and reached out to shake his friend’s hand. Clive got off his bike and removed the pink flowered helmet. Randal looked away, hiding the smile that crept over his face at Clive’s choice of headgear.
“How ya’ll doin today?” Johnny Lee asked, flicking a cigarette butt onto the ground and using the toe of his boot to grind it out.
“Good, how are you?” Clive asked.
“All good here. No sightin’ of them there strangers. Got some kids and adults out at the front beach in the high rises, keepin’ a look out from on high. Also got the kids on patrol during the day, and adults at night. We’re hopin’ whoever they are, they won’t be movin’ at night, at least not on the ocean. Can’t never be too careful,” Johnny Lee said, grinning.
“I wouldn’t count on that. It seems like people are becoming more desperate to brave the ocean in a small boat. I think we should step up our surveillance.
“We got our hands on an old shortwave and got it working. Our people have also found some walky-talkies,” Randal said as he ruffled his hair in the warming breeze.
“Good. Teddy found some as well. We also found a shortwave. We’ll dial in on 4 MHz an’ have someone monitorin’ at all times. The kids have the walky-talkies an’ will keep us advised. We in turn will let ya’ll know anything. If I had my druthers, I’d let the kids be kids, but that ain’t gonna happen,” Johnny Lee said.
“Very nice. Ya’ll move fast,” Clive chuckled.
“Well, I S’wanee, we ain’t gonna let a bunch of assholes take what we got. We ain’t got much, but we got enough to keep us alive. There aren’t many of us left on this island, so we look after each other,” Johnny Lee said, his voice cracking with emotion.
Randal cleared his throat. “I agree. There’s no one out there to help us. We have to work together to keep our islands safe for our families and friends. You have more people to worry about, but you also have more eyes to keep watch.”
“Amen, brother,” Clive said.
“We can do an hourly check on the radio. What’s your call sign?” Randal asked.
Johnny Lee grinned and scratched the side of his face. “Big John.” He laughed, pulling a cigarette from his shirt pocket.
Clive looked longingly at the cigarette and Johnny Lee smiled and offered him a smoke. The hope fired bright in Clive’s eye, and Randal shook his head, smiling. He was thankful he’d never picked up that habit.
“Clive, I got plenty of cartons of smokes. We can do some tradin’ next time you’re by. In the meantime, here’s a carton,” Johnny Lee said, and reached into the car he’d been leaning on and pulled out a carton of Marlb
oros.
Randal thought Clive might faint with bliss. He held the carton to his chest, hugging it like a lover. He looked at Johnny Lee as though the man had given him the last glass of water on earth.
“Okay, Clive, let’s get back to the island,” Randal said, and mounted his bike. He watched as Clive stuck the carton down his shirt and put on the pink helmet. Randal looked over to Johnny Lee, who had a peculiar mix of humor and sorrow on his face.
Randal understood the sorrow. The world had come apart, and grown men were reduced to small pleasures. And soon, even those pleasures would run out. Leaving the islands was out of the question. The unknown out there harbored many dangers. The smell of decay had become prevalent on the wind. The arrival of the strangers told them people were spreading out, looking for more.
To Randal, that was a signal that they’d run out of whatever they’d scrounged and were now looking elsewhere. Instead of doing what he and his counterparts were doing, planting and working together, these people were looking to loot and take what they could, at the expense of those on the islands. Randal knew that Johnny Lee and his people didn’t have much more than Randal and his. Their lives were unquestionably headed for the bare basics of survival. Kindness was becoming a rare commodity. They were all they had, this small, fragile population.
“Thanks again, and we’ll see ya’ll later,” Randal said.
“If the creek don’t rise,” called Johnny Lee.
Randal and Clive rode away at a leisurely speed. It was a fine day, warm and breezy. A good day to go fishing, Randal thought. Yes. He would take Greg fishing. He needed to get the boy out of the house. Pearl worried over him since the sighting of the three men. The child was in constant fear.
When they arrived home, Randal went into the house looking for Greg. He found him in the kitchen with Pearl, sitting at the table working on a puzzle. Pearl looked up and smiled.
Randal came around and kissed Pearl on the cheek, then leaned over and kissed Greg on the head.
The boy looked up, grinning. “Me and MawMaw are doin’ a puzzle,” he said, his voice high-pitched and happy.
“I see that, looks good. You wanna go fishin’?”
Greg’s face stilled and grew serious. “Is it safe, PawPaw?”
“Yes honey, it’s safe. I got my walky-talkie, and everyone here is watching. They all have walky-talkies and we have a radio. We’re talking to the folks on Isle of Palms, and they’re keeping an eye out too. So, you see, honey, we have a whole lot of people watching out for you and MawMaw,” Randal said gently, holding the child’s soft face in his hands.
The boy’s large gray eyes were trusting, and he nodded solemnly. “Okay PawPaw, I’ll be brave.”
Greg then grinned and shouted with glee, as though a load of the world had dropped from his small shoulders. He jumped down from the chair and raced to his room, calling over his shoulders, “I’m getting my fishin’ boots, PawPaw, you better hurry. Those fish ain’t gonna catch themselves.”
Randal looked at Pearl with tears in his eyes. A sob caught in his throat at the sheer trust the boy had in him. He hoped that trust would never be destroyed by some bastard out there. Pearl pulled the tissue from her bra and dabbed at Randal’s face.
“I hope I can keep him safe,” Randal said to her.
Pearl’s hand came to rest on his face and she leaned forward and kissing him. He saw the unshed tears in her eyes as well. “We’ll have to leave that with God, sugar. We can only do what we can only do. I just hope it’s enough.”
Randal pulled Pearl into his arms and held his bride tight. He heard Greg running up the hall toward the kitchen and pulled back, kissing Pearl on her forehead. “We’ll be okay, Pearly girl, depend on it. We’ll be havin’ fish for dinner, won’t we Greg?”
“Oh, I recon we’ll get a mess of them, PawPaw. I’m gonna catch me a shark,” Greg crowed, his face bright with excitement and relief, his gray eyes clear and full of trust.
The scar that ringed Greg’s slender neck was normally thin and faded, but when he got excited it turned bright red, a reminder of his past. Randal was glad Greg couldn’t see it. He didn’t want the boy to think of either his near murder or the murder of his mother.
Randal laughed and picked the boy up, his arms wrapping securely around the boy. Greg’s arms laced around Randal’s neck, and he hugged his body close to Randal’s. Randal hugged him back and set him on the ground.
“See ya later, alligator,” he called to his wife.
San Gabriel Mountains, California
Larry and Charmain were on the last leg of their journey home. They were taking a circuitous route toward the cabin, so Charmain could check her traps. Larry had been warned never to leave the cabin unescorted, as she had numerous deadly traps and snares around the property. The fact that he hadn’t run into one when he’d first arrived had been a miracle.
He hadn’t wanted to leave the immediate cabin area after he had first arrived and through the past five months, as he’d had enough of wandering. As they walked, he looked around. He couldn’t see any sign of traps. When she stopped, he did so as well, and watched as she squatted and lifted a fern. It was then that Larry saw a thin line of wire, with small razor blades imbedded.
Tripping on that would cause some damage, and a lot of pain. He grimaced, and took a step back. He looked around the area and shivered. At least they were safe from those gangs, but so many innocent people were going to die as they made their way north.
“Once we get home, I’ll get on the radio with everyone and we will come up with a plan. We’ll have to go on the offensive,” she’d said. “Once we all get together a few hours’ trek from the gang’s location, we will hunt them down and kill them all.
The grisly sights from the clearing kept coming back to his tired mind. “They’re like locusts, tearing through the countryside, killing and devastating anyone and everything in their path. They have to be stopped,” Larry agreed.
He would join Charmain and her friends in taking down those heinous bastards. She said she had a very special surprise planned for them.
He watched her pull away some more of the underbrush near the wire, and now he saw sharpened sticks, about ten inches in length, sticking up at angles.
The line had been bad enough, but falling on the sharpened sticks would more than likely end up puncturing something vital. He didn’t know how he’d missed all her snares and traps that first day, but he was thankful he had.
“Almost home, and I need a drink!” Charmain announced.
Larry grinned. Charmain’s idea of a drink was a Pepsi. She had a stash in the back of the cave, and only drank one when she’d had a hard day. He was a Coke man, but she was kind enough to share from time to time. He knew they were living on borrowed time for drinking soda, and it would get ugly once it was gone. Charmain loved her Pepsi, and when that was gone, he knew she would go through withdrawal like a drug addict, she was that addicted to it.
As soon as they were inside, Charmain went to the radio and began calling her comrades. It was time to plan and rally the troops. Larry left her to the plotting and planning. Kaluchia was happy to see him, and he let her out while he gathered firewood.
As Larry carried an armload of wood back into the house, Kaluchia followed him, rubbing up his pant leg as he walked. He built up the piles of kindling and small sticks in the ironwork caddy, which held several days’ worth of wood. Larry made sure to keep it filled. It had been so difficult during his trek through the wilderness, and to be able to make a fire, eat, and stay warm was something special. It was life changing when you had to do without.
Larry shook his head and smiled to himself. His whole perspective on life had changed. I guess being close to death does that to you. He went into the fissure and brought out a Pepsi, got a glass, and brought it to Charmain, who was still talking at the radio. She was talking to Eagle Eyes now.
Larry looked forward to meeting her friends and hoped he wouldn’t shame her. He hoped he wo
uld be the warrior she needed him to be. They were, in fact, going to war. A war for their survival.
CHAPTER TEN
Topsfield, Maine
Kelly watched as the men got out of the truck. One of them was very large. Apparently, he’d been eating very well recently. More than likely at others’ expense, she thought darkly. He was slovenly and greasy looking, as though he both ate and bathed in lard. His thinning gray hair was combed over unsuccessfully, and his triple chin was sparsely covered with a shaggy beard. His eyes were sunken in and small, and shifty, reminding Kelly of a worried pig.
The next man out was as thin as the first was fat. He was a dour-looking man in his fifties or sixties. She wasn’t sure, as he looked old, but his hair was salt and pepper – mostly pepper, and deep grooves lined his face, as though it held a perpetual frown. His clothes were ill-fitting and crumpled. That wasn’t unusual, as she doubted anyone ironed their clothes anymore, having no power, but in this case, even the wrinkles had wrinkles.
The other two men looked like muscle. Not too bright, young, and one looked suspiciously like the fat man. A son, she thought. She stood her ground as they started walking into the dooryard.
“That’s far enough. State your business,” she said bluntly, no shred of friendly attitude. Her body was rigid with suppressed fear and anger.
The men stopped abruptly and looked her over, then their eyes fell on the dog sitting quietly at her side. The younger men cowered behind their elders. She watched as emotions flitted across their faces. Unease was top of the list when their eyes hit Schrodinger’s Cat. Good, she thought. You don’t need to get too comfortable. I want you on the defensive.
“Ahya, we’ll get to it then. My name is Mortimer Chum. I’m the governor of Maine. Until our great state can function with the rest of the country, I’m declaring martial law. I’ve come to appropriate supplies that we’ll need,” the fat man said importantly, standing straight with shoulders back.
