by S. Ison
Jimmy and Reed would work on their garden too, with the seedlings they had. The weather was becoming warmer, and they needed to get started in order to try and fit in two growing seasons, if not three. They were also looking forward to planting the peanuts David had found last year. The berry plants Roy had transplanted the previous year would hopefully start to bloom in the next month or so.
Roy and Jimmy had cannibalized some windows from several of the many abandoned homes to build a greenhouse for the women. Jimmy had then found several shelving units in nearby garages, and set them up inside the greenhouse. They had even set up a canopy to be drawn over the structure so it wouldn’t get too hot. It sat in Pearl and Randal’s south-facing front yard, where there was room.
Greg was playing with Becka under a large palm. They had small wooden blocks, and the women heard their giggling and smiled. The women turned when they heard the back door open, and all looked up expectantly.
David was on radio duty and leaned over the railing. “Johnny Lee over on Isle of Palms just called. Three men in a boat have been spotted near the inlet bridge.”
The women looked at each other, then Pearl dug in her jacket pocket and pulled out a walky-talkie. She clicked the button and spoke. “Randy, this is Pearl. Over.”
She waited a while.
“Randy, this is Pearl. Over,” she repeated.
“I’m here Pearl, go ahead. Over.” Randal and Clive were out biking around the island.
“Got word from Johnny Lee. Three, I repeat, three men in boat near the inlet. Over,” she said
“Roger, three tangoes at the inlet. Will contact Reed and Jimmy. Over and out.”
“Tangoes?” May asked.
Pearl rolled her eyes and snorted. “Targets.” She shook her head. Turning, she asked Laura to get the kids and take them into the house. May followed them indoors.
Pearl went up the stairs and into the house. The windows were open to catch any breeze, as it was getting warmer. She went to her bedroom, David and May following her, and over to the closet. Feeling around in the darkness, her hands found the box of shells.
Gathering them up, she spoke to the others. “I’m going to go get Roy, and he and I will head toward the inlet via the beach.”
David and the women looked at her, and nodded silently. Laura popped her head around the door.
“Can ya’ll stay in the house? There may be more people on the island. If you see anyone, David, you call Johnny Lee’s people. Laura, can you keep Greg busy? Please don’t let him know what is going on if you can help it. Where is Roy?” Pearl asked, looking up from putting the gun in her jacket pocket.
“He said he was going crabbing, so he should be on the beach,” Laura said, worry creasing her brow. She held Becka a little too tightly, and the toddler began to squirm. She let the girl down, who promptly ran to Greg’s room.
Pearl left the house and made her way down to the beach. The breeze was stiff and warm, and blew Pearl’s hair around her face. She shoved it aside constantly, pulling it from her mouth. She found Roy knee-deep in the surf, net in hand as he scooped out crabs. She walked closer to the shoreline, not wanting to shout.
As it was, she startled Roy, who nearly dropped his net full of crabs when he turned around to head to the shore and the bucket set just out of reach of the tide.
“What’s happened?” he asked, his ginger brows gathering into an apprehensive frown.
“Got a call. There’s a boat with three men down near the inlet bridge. I called Randy, and he’s on his way with Clive. He said he would call Reed and Jimmy,” she said, raising her voice over the wind and waves. “I think we should head up the beach and see what we can see. They may need backup.” She patted her side pocket in her jacket, the one that held the .38.
“Okay, sounds good. Let me move this pail and crabs to the dunes, and we can head up the beach,” Roy said.
⅏
“Jimmy, Reed, this is Randal. Over,” Randal called on the walky-talkie. He heard static, and was about to call again when Reed’s voice came over, some static breaking his voice up.
Randal spoke. “Got three possible tangoes at the inlet bridge. Can you make your way there? Over.”
“Roger, we can be there in five. Over.”
“Roger. Clive and I are heading there. We’ll come via Jasper Boulevard. Over.”
“Roger that. Will meet at the bridge. Out.” Reed clicked out.
“Do you think it’s the same three that showed up a while back?” Clive asked.
“Could be. I reckon they’re either here to steal or to check us out again. Maybe seeing if we have any gaps in surveillance,” Randal postulated, getting on his bike and heading toward the beach.
“Good thing Johnny Lee has Teddy and his friends to travel about the island checking things out. The more eyes the better,” Clive said, adjusting his pink helmet to tilt it forward rakishly, preparing for war.
By the time Randal and Clive arrived at the inlet bridge, Reed, Jimmy, Johnny Lee, and two other men were aiming their weapons at three men in the boat. As far as Randal could ascertain, it was the same three men.
“What the hell is this? I asked ya’ll a question. Why is ya’ll stoppin’ us from our business?” the only man standing in the boat shouted, shaking his fist.
No one on shore answered. They all stood there pointing their weapons, saying nothing. It appeared to Randal that they were waiting for him.
“Hey Randal, is these here the fellers you seen the last time?” Johnny Lee asked once Randal was within hearing distance, confirming Randal’s suspicions.
“Yeah, looks like. What were they doing when you got here?” Randal asked.
“They was tryin’ ta get on them there rocks over yonder,” Johnny Lee said, nodding his head to the rocks beneath the inlet bridge on the Sullivan’s Island side.
“I gave ’em a warning shot and they got back in their skiff, actin’ all insulted that we would stop ’em. Madder ’n a wet hen,” Johnny Lee said, sniggering, his eyes crinkling in humor. “Figured we’d wait ’til ya’ll got here to identify ’em.” He turned and spat into the sand, a long jet of tobacco splatting out.
“Okay. I’ll talk to them and we’ll see what’s what,” Randal said, and broke off from the group of men. He walked to the edge of the bridge and looked down at the three men in the boat. They were a rough-looking lot, thin and disheveled. He noted a rifle lying in the boat, as well as a machete and several long pipes.
“What are ya’ll doing here?” he asked the men bluntly.
“Ya’ll ain’t got no right ta threaten us like ’at. We ain’t done nothin’ wrong.” The man who had been standing now sat down so the boat would stop rocking. His grimy hands gripped the sides of the boat, his knuckles white with the overtight grip.
“So why were you sneaking onto the island?” Randal asked, his voice calm, but his mind working.
“We wasn’t sneakin’. And ’sides, what right ya’ll got to tell us what we can or can’t come do on any island we want?”
“If ya’ll wanted on the island, why didn’t you come through the blockade?” Randal asked reasonably. “It’s easier and less risky than trying to paddle around the island?”
“We ain’t know’d there was a blockade,” the man lied.
Randal called it for what it was. “Bullshit. I saw you more than two weeks ago off the island, you and your friends.”
“Ya’ll think you’re slicker than shit on a hoe handle,” Johnny Lee yelled, taunting the men in the boat.
“That’s a goldurn lie,” the man blustered, but knew he was busted.
“I saw you. So, I’ll ask you again, why are ya’ll trying to sneak on the island?” Randal said patiently.
“We was lookin’ for food and such. We was thinkin’ about coming here to live. What’s wrong with that. Ya’ll look like you ain’t missed too many meals. Why not share with those less fortunate?” the man whined.
Johnny Lee stepped forward, his face turning an
ugly red, and lowered his gun. “My son said several houses near the beach were broken into. Said they was torn up pretty good. Don’t piss on my shoes an’ tell me it’s rainin’. I think ya’ll are here to steal. If ya’ll really wanted help, you would have come to the blockade.”
“That kid of yours is a liar. We ain’t done no sucha thing,” the man in the boat protested. His companions were quiet, looking down at their laps.
“My kid don’t lie, an’ we keep an eye on every house on this island. We know what goes on ever’ minute of ever’ day, ’cause our lives depend on it. You, mister, are a goddamn liar. Your breath smells of shit cause you’re a’spillin’ so much Billy Bob bullshit!” Johnny Lee said hotly, his face bright red, and spat into the sand once more.
Randal held up his hand before things descended into a shouting match. When both men were quiet, he spoke calmly. “These are our islands, our homes. We do not, let me repeat, we do not have the resources to support many people. We have barely enough to survive. You have the whole ocean to fish and crab, you can find a plot of land on the mainland and grow food. But you cannot come to our islands and steal from us. We will shoot you on sight.”
“That’s just bullshit. Ya’ll got plenty of food, I can tell. Ain’t none of you starving, like us. Ya’ll should give us food,” the man shouted.
“Mister, you’re not listening. Clean the shit out of your ears. You need to look after yourself. You need to help yourself. And I don’t mean by stealing from us. If you used half the energy you have spent on trying to steal from us and turned that into farming and gathering, you’d be fine. This is our island, and that is their island. You’ve been warned. You aren’t welcome,” Randal repeated, wondering if this idiot were deaf.
“You heard the man. Take that piece of shit boat and get out of here. This’s your only warning. You’ll be shot if you step foot on our islands. You got that? Or is ya’ll too stupid to understand?” Johnny Lee said. A nasty sneer pulled at his lips, his eyes dark with anger.
“This ain’t over, asshole. Ya’ll wait, this ain’t over,” the man shouted as he and his cohorts began to move the boat out and away from the inlet.
“You think they’ll be back, Randal?” Johnny Lee asked, already knowing the answer.
“You know damn well they will,” Clive said, coming up beside the two men.
“Maybe we should just shoot ’em now, get it over with,” Johnny Lee suggested hopefully.
“No,” Randal said. “I can’t condone out and out murder. If they’d raised that rifle, all bets are off. They’re just too sorry to do the work to survive and want the easy way around. Handouts. That kind will never learn, and instead spend their efforts trying to use others.” Randal shook his head. Then he spotted Pearl and Roy coming up the beach, and waved. She turned her head to watch the men, who were rowing farther out and along the south-eastern coast of the island.
Randal shook his head. They wasted all their energies rowing around instead of using them fishing and crabbing, catching or raising food. What had they been doing all this time? Stealing from others, a voice in his head told him. He knew they hadn’t seen the last of the men.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Bridgman, Michigan
Mike wiped the sweat from his bow. He’d finally dug the hole about four feet down, deep enough and wide enough to hold both Alisa and Stephen. Below that, the ground was frozen. The immediate area around the house had thawed from the heat of the fire. He laid the shovel down and let the cool breeze from the lake wash over him. He looked over at Alisa’s shroud-covered body. He placed a hand on a leg.
“I’m so sorry, Ally,” he said, his voice breaking. He laid his head in his hand and began to rock back and forth, wretched hard sobs coming from deep within. “I’m so goddamn sorry, I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I’m so sorry they killed Stephen, and I’m so sorry they hurt you so bad. I’ll go back and avenge you and Stephen, don’t you worry.” He wiped at his face, dirt smearing with the sweat and tears and snot. He took the tail of his shirt and tried to clean his face.
He got up and went into the burned-out shell of the cottage. Most of the structure had been burned down to the floor and studs. The chimney had crumbled down, and there were no standing walls. He walked over to where the couch had been, where Stephen had died.
There, among the remains of the burned couch and beams of the house, were Stephen’s charred remains. Mike squatted beside them, the tears now flowing freely down his face, falling with small puffs into the ash. He was broken-hearted. He didn’t know if he would ever recover.
He stripped off his outer shirt, then began picking up the charred, blackened bones. There wasn’t much left, pretty much just the long bones of the legs and arms, the skull, some ribs and vertebrae. The small bones of the hands and feet were either burned to ash or taken off by scavengers.
With infinite gentleness, he lifted each bone and placed in the shirt, cradling it like a newborn. As he worked, he spoke, unaware he was talking to the bones.
“I’m sorry, brother, I’m so sorry. I didn’t get to Ally fast enough. They hurt her bad, but I know she’s with you now. I know you are together and I think that’s the only thing that keeps me from going crazy. That, and my little man, Zack.” A moan caught in his throat as he thought of the small baby, now orphaned.
“I’ll take good care of him, Stephen, I promise. I’ll tell him all about you and Alisa. He will know you guys loved him. I won’t let him forget you.”
He stood, cradled the bones in his arms, and went outside the burnt shell and over to the grave
Carefully laying the bundle on the ground, he reached over and pulled Alisa’s shrouded body to him. He gently laid her in the grave, then place Stephen’s bones on her chest. He wanted them to be together as though they held each other.
Climbing out of the grave, he began to fill it in. It didn’t take long. Afterward, he found a plank of wood and wiggled it into the loose ground at the head of the grave. Going back into the house, he found the boning knife he’d spotted among the debris around the couch.
He thought perhaps Stephen had tried to defend Alisa and himself when he was shot, and the animals had turned and used the boning knife on Stephen. The plastic handle of the knife had melted, but it was still useable.
Back outside, he carved their names on the board, and what he thought was the date. He wasn’t sure of anything anymore. When he finished, he lay down by the grave and wept. He hadn’t slept in days, and was so tired. He knew he needed to rest before he headed back to kill those animals.
Pulling his coat up and over him, he cushioned his head on his arm and fell into a deep, exhausted slumber.
San Gabriel Mountains, California
It was the third day out, and they’d been walking for six hours. They would meet up with Mountain Lion, or Harley Smit, today. Once they met up with him, they would continue on.
In the canopy of the conifers, the birds were active. The hint of spring was in the air. Larry sensed it too, and felt alive and energized. He easily kept up with Charmain now; he was becoming used to trekking for hours with minimal water and food.
He was becoming a survivalist, and was very proud of himself. He was no longer fearful of being in the woods, though most of that was because Charmain was with him, and he had a weapon and was pretty damn good at using it. He no longer felt helpless, like he had so many months ago.
Charmain held up a hand. Larry immediately halted, waiting, listening and sniffing the air. His eyes were constantly scanning the trees and underbrush. In the distance, he heard leaves and pine needles rustle. A breeze was blowing in the upper canopy.
He took his cue from Charmain and brought his rifle forward. He waited quietly and calmly for whatever it was to come closer.
Through the dappled sunlit trees, he spotted a large man stepping through a cluster of live oak saplings. Wearing a camouflage jacket, he had a gray beard, and wore a coonskin cap set jauntily to one side. He appeared to be in his early sixtie
s. He had a broad smile on his bearded face and lively green eyes, and lifted a hand in silent greeting.
Charmain eased her weapon down, and Larry followed her cue. Larry stood back and watched as the large man walked toward Charmain. He engulfed Charmain in his arms, giving her a massive bearhug. Larry heard her spine pop, and grimaced.
Stepping forward, he joined Charmain and Harley, aka, Mountain Lion. The mountain part was true enough; he was a big man.
“Harley, this is my friend and roommate, Larry Pelletier. Larry, this is Harley Smit,” Charmain said.
Harley’s massive hand engulfed Larry’s in a firm but not too crushing handshake. Larry was relieved; he didn’t want his trigger finger injured at this juncture.
“Good to meet you, son. You must be something for Charmain to put up with you.” Harley laughed, his deep voice seeming to rumble up from his deep barrel chest.
“Good to meet you, Harley,” Larry said, feeling somewhat intimidated.
Harley turned to Charmain. “Shall we proceed, young lady?”
“Lead on, McDuff,” she grinned, and winked at Larry.
Harley took the lead and Larry brought up the rear. The big man was surprisingly quiet as they moved forward at a steady pace. They were to meet up with Wind Walker tomorrow. For now, they had about six more hours to walk.
Larry relaxed as they walked, enjoying being out in the forest. He’d never thought he would, but here he was. It was cool, and the light was muted by the canopy overhead. Squirrels hopped from branch to branch, chasing each other. He didn’t remember seeing animals in such profusion when he and Jake had walked through the woods. A rabbit ran between bushes, and he wondered at it. The forest was alive, and he felt alive, along with the flora and fauna. Once more, he felt at one with the forest, at peace among the trees.
Topsfield, Maine
Tim was mucking out the barn while Kelly took the manure to spread out on the broken ground. There was still some snow lying on the ground, but mostly around the tree line, where the long shadows still fell. The temperatures were warming up, and the manure slowly seeped into the thawing ground below. Once the ground was completely thawed, they’d work the fertilizer into the ground more properly.
