by S. Ison
“I think that is a great idea. I think Greg would love a pet,” Randal said, smiling as he imagined Greg’s face when he saw the dog.
Johnny Lee waved to Teddy, who broke away from his gangly friends and came loping up to the group of men. It was obvious they were all trying to listen in. Randal smiled at the gaggle of teens. All were thin, and his smile disappeared. The kids weren’t starving, far from it, but without all the junk and garbage they used to eat, they were now lean. Teenaged boys were always hungry, if he remembered his own boys as well as himself.
Teddy came over and looked around at the grownups. “How about firecrackers?”
“What, son?” Johnny Lee asked.
“Firecrackers. You can also rig up firecrackers in tripwires. Maybe, anyway,” he said shyly.
“That is some damn fine thinking,” Reed said, grinning.
“Great thinking, Teddy. Go to Mrs. Beacher, pick up that dog she been keepin’ an’ bring the dog here. Mr. Randal is gonna give her a new home,” Johnny Lee said.
“Yes sir.” Teddy grinned and ran off, his friends following behind.
“Good kid, Johnny Lee. I know he must be a big help,” Randal said.
“He is. He’s been a godsend. I don’t know what I’d do without him. He’s smart as a whip. His Pa done taught him right. I reckon he’ll make a good man, and damn me iffin we don’t need more of them,” Johnny Lee said, smiling.
Randal smiled at the pride he saw in Johnny Lee’s eyes. He agreed. Good men were in short supply, and he hoped that the good would outnumber the bad.
They discussed more ideas and options while waiting for Teddy to return with the dog. Within thirty minutes, the teen returned with one of the ugliest dogs Randal had ever seen.
She was a bug-eyed furry chihuahua, her coloring and pattern making her look like a miniature hyena. With a tongue that stuck out to the side, the dog had small, crooked, pegged teeth. When Teddy handed her over, he noticed she only had three legs. Christ, he thought, what an ugly damn dog.
“What’s her name?” Randal asked.
“Don’t know. Her owner died from the virus. One of the kids found her wandering around. Mrs. Beacher offered to take her until she could find a forever home,” Johnny Lee said, grinning.
Randal wondered if Johnny Lee was giving him this dog on purpose, as some kind of joke. But a dog was a dog, and if the little thing barked at strangers, then she’d earn her place in their group. What an ugly dog, he thought again, and shook his head.
Unknown Location, Maine
Kelly had slept fitfully in the small room. She’d been given a glass of water, a roll of toilet paper, several slices of old homemade bread with peanut butter, and a wrinkled apple. She’d eaten the bread, but left the apple for later. She wasn’t sure when they’d feed her again.
No one had come to speak with her. At some point she’d heard someone banging on a wall and a woman calling out. Apparently she wasn’t the only one being held for ransom. Idiots, she thought. If they’d put this much effort into growing a garden and hunting and all the other things people do to survive, they wouldn’t need any help.
If there was one thing she’d learned about most Mainers, they were survivors and self-reliant. Many hunted and lived off-grid, living off the land, hunting and thriving. The wild woods of Maine were filled with animals; deer, bear, moose, and other smaller animals like squirrels and rabbits. And of course, there was good fishing as well. These bastards wanted more, wanted what others had, and weren’t willing to work for it.
It reminded her of Aesop’s fable of the Grasshopper and the Ants. Clearly, Chump was a big fat grasshopper. Bastard. If she’d got her hand on her gun fast enough, she would have blown his head off.
That thin little bastard, Wolfe, had snuck up behind her when she’d stopped the truck. She’d not seen him or even thought about it being an ambush. Chump and his chump son had blocked the road. Again, she couldn’t believe they were so stupid as to kidnap her and others.
She knew that, at some point, Tim would come and get her. If he didn’t know where she was, people would be talking about this bullshit. Chump had painted a target on himself.
Getting up from the floor, she stretched her legs and body. She was getting stiff sitting on the cold floor. She went to the door to try the knob for the hundredth time. Locked. She started kicking the door.
“Let me the hell out of here, you idiots!” she yelled at the top of her lungs.
A loud bang hit the door and she jumped back. Her heart was up in her throat, hammering so hard she felt dizzy. Her body vibrated with electrical shockwaves.
“Let me out of her! I swear, I will kick your ass. Let me out now. You have no right to keep me here! You people are crazy. Let me out,” Kelly called through the door.
“Ay-yup missus, don’t be all in a pucka, you aint gonna go nowar,” a male voice said.
“What the hell? Let me out of here, goddamn it!” she yelled in frustration. These people were incomprehensible.
“Simma down, missus. You gonna end up wit’ two lamps burnin’ and no ships at sea. Quiet down now. You aint goin’ nowar,” the voice said, and footsteps receding told her the man had left.
Kelly kicked the door once more for good measure, her frustration mixing with fear. This couldn’t be good for the baby. It was freezing in the room. It was a good thing she had her coat and gloves.
“I’m frozen in here,” she yelled, kicking the door again. “I’m cold and I’m pregnant! I need food and I need a blanket, unless you want to be responsible for the murder of a baby!”
She listened, and heard steps coming back to her door.
“You gonna be a mutha? Hahd tellin’, not knowin’ you gotta newt inya,” the voice said, skeptical.
“What the hell did you say? Are you even using real goddamn words?” Kelly asked, wanting to pull her hair out.
“You gonna hava ankle biteah? A little one?” the voice asked again.
“Yes, I’m pregnant. I’m going to have a baby, and I’m cold and I’m hungry.” Kelly finally got the gist of the one-sided conversation.
“Ay-yah, bun-in-th’-oven, Ay-yah, I’ll tellum,” he said, and walked away.
What the hell? What just happened? She wasn’t sure if he understood what she said, but thought he might have. She hoped this would either get her set free or at least better quarters. Perhaps warmer quarters, and therein a way to escape.
⅏
Tim worked around the yard, his nerves on edge. He’d left the window open so he could hear the radio if Kenny tried to reach him. The chickens were out scratching around. The snow was melting rapidly, and the sun was bright and the sky clear.
His heart twisted, wondering if Kelly and the baby were okay. They’d not talked much about the pregnancy, and he felt guilty about that. He was torn between being thrilled and terrified, and vacillated between the two.
He threw old rice onto the ground, and was nearly trampled by the chickens. He’d forgotten how much they loved rice, and had to step back quickly. His mouth twitched in humor. He’d never been around chickens before, and now that he was, he kind of liked them. Their contented clucking and mindless scratching around the yard soothed his ragged nerves. When they preened, they usually preened as a group. He found it very entertaining.
Looking over, he saw Schrodinger’s Cat lying on her back. Chloe was attacking her large open mouth. The large jaws closed gently around the kitten’s body, a soft growl emanating from deep in her large chest. He could hear the kitten’s excited mewing. A ferocious fighter, that one.
Once again, he missed sharing these moments with Kelly. His rage rose once more at the gall and audacity of that sonofabitch to have kidnapped his Kelly. The man was an utter fool. He had no idea he’d signed his own death warrant, and those of his son and cohorts.
Though he knew Kenny would get answers, the waiting was intolerable. But there was nothing he could do. He’d never come up against something like this. He’d never felt so fuc
king helpless and enraged. All he wanted to do was run rampant through the countryside, murdering and destroying everything in his wake.
Taking care of the animals, working the garden and tending the greenhouse helped, because he knew he was doing it for Kelly. He missed her presence beside him at night. He’d become so used to her rump up against him while they slept, it was so lonely for him now, and sleep eluded him. When he got her back, he’d never let her out of his sight again.
He felt something licking his hand, and looked down into Chance’s large brown eyes. Even the pups were missing Kelly.
He put his hand on the large head and rubbed behind the ears. “Hey, boy. Where’s Hope? I know you miss mommy, I miss her too. We’ll get her back, boy, and I’ll slaughter all of those sons of bitches,” Tim said, his eyes glittering hard as sapphires.
Sullivan’s Island, South Carolina
Randal pulled into the yard with Clive behind him. Pearl, Laura, and May were in the front yard, outside the greenhouse. The women were looking at their seedlings, and from what Randal could see, the plants were looking good and getting big.
Holding his hand to his shirt and the wriggling bundle inside it, he walked up and kissed his wife on the cheek. He watched her eyes go to his midriff, a slender, elegant brow going up in silent inquiry.
“Where’s Greg?” Randal asked. “I’ve something for him.”
“He’s upstairs playing with a puzzle. He got bored helping us with the yardwork,” Pearl grinned.
Randal pulled out the little dog, and the women around him gasped. He set it on the ground and it began to sniff around.
“Oh my, what an ugly little dog, God love her little heart,” May said, shaking her gray head.
“Where did you get her, Randy?” Pearl asked, watching the three-legged dog walk around.
“Johnny Lee said she needed a home, and I figured another dog’s ears couldn’t hurt. She’s small enough, should be easy to feed and care for,” Randal said.
“She’s as ugly as homemade sin, bless her heart,” Laura said, watching the dog squat and pee.
“So, you brought it for Greg?” Pearl asked, a smile pulling at the side of her face.
“Sure. Every boy should have a dog,” Randal said defensively.
“True, but she’s an ugly little thing,” Pearl said. “Let’s just hope she isn’t stupid, bless her heart.”
Randal called Greg, who came to the door, and he asked him down to the front yard. He watched as the small boy came bouncing down the steps. He’s happy, thought Randal.
“Greg, I brought you a dog. She needs to be taken good care of,” Randal said.
Greg looked down at the three-legged dog, his face a little dubious. “She looks like a mean dog, PawPaw.”
“You think she looks like a mean dog?” Randal asked, both his gray brows going up.
“Well, she looks kinda like a mean dog,” Greg said, squatting down, and stuck a tentative hand out to the small dog.
Everyone watched as the dog came up to the boy, her little tail waving back and forth at an incredible speed.
A slow smile spread across Greg’s face. “Are you a mean dog?” he asked her as he sat on the ground. The dog clambered into his lap. She started licking his hand, and he giggled.
Randal beamed at his wife. “I guess Mean Dog isn’t a mean dog,” he laughed.
“Mean Dog?” Pearl asked.
“Sure, it fits. She looks like a mean dog, but isn’t,” Randal said.
Both looked back at Greg, who had the dog to his face. “What are you doing, Greg?” Pearl asked.
“Smellin’ her,” Greg said.
“What’s she smell like?” Randal asked, almost afraid of what the answer would be.
“Suuuugggar,” Greg said, and held the dog close to his chest, his face shining.
“Well, looks like Mean Dog has a new home and a new friend,” Pearl said, rolling her eyes at the women around her.
Randal blushed as he heard their soft laughter, and headed into the house, Clive following him.
“Mean Dog,” Clive muttered behind Randal, and Randal pulled his shoulders up to his ears, which were bright red.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Bridgman Michigan
Mike stopped by the burned-out shell of his former home. It still shocked him to see it. He looked at the fresh grave, and felt his heart squeeze tight. It still seemed like a dream, like he would wake up and be with his friends again.
“Was this your home?” Jada asked softly, her head turning as she took in the devastation.
“Yeah,” Mike nodded. “Those bastards burned it down. I buried my friends here.”
He took off his backpack and dropped it by the shore of the lake. Taking off his shirt, he squatted down and began to splash the chilled water over his face and upper body. He sucked in his breath sharply, and hissed it out just as quickly. Goosebumps broke out all over his torso and arms. The water turned red from the dried blood that had splattered over his face and hands.
He heard rather than saw Jada splash water. He figured this may well be her first bath in months. He could still smell her, and the water wetting her hair didn’t help. Now she smelled as bad as a dirty wet dog. His eyes cut over to her surreptitiously. Her hair really was matted and filthy. He couldn’t even tell what color it was.
She had blood crusted on her face and hands too, and looked like she’d just walked out of a slaughterhouse. He figured he didn’t look much better. He didn’t want to give Janet a heart attack; that was the main purpose of stopping here first. He’d also wanted to check on the grave. He used his shirt to dry himself, then gathered up their gear to leave.
He went over to the destroyed structure and into the open area of the basement. The blackened beams looked like burned matchsticks. He moved the mattress away from the hidden door, opened it, and retrieved several jars of canned fruit. He placed them carefully into his backpack. He didn’t want to show up at Janet’s door empty-handed.
Walking through the woods, they weaved and checked behind them, listening for any pursuit. Mike was nervous about the raiders finding Janet’s home, finding her and Zack. That just couldn’t happen. The woods were quiet, birds calling to one another. It sounded like they were starting to liven up with spring making its way to them.
The wind blowing through the trees pushed the water to the shore. It was a peaceful sound. He didn’t want to hear anything but nature right now. It soothed his raw nerves and quieted his anguished heart. He followed his previous winding route to Janet’s home.
He called softly, announcing his presence. He didn’t want to get shot either. No answer. He tried again, louder. He was about to rush in, but the door opened cautiously, and he saw Janet’s worried face.
“Michael! Oh, thank God you’re home! I was so worried about you,” Janet said, swinging the door open wide. Mike saw her eyes cut to Jada, and knew she’d have lots of questions.
“We’re safe, for now. How’s Zack?” he asked, trying to keep the anxiety out of his voice.
“He’s playing on the rug. Come on in. Oh goodness, you look so thin, both of you. Come in, come in and get warm,” she said, stepping back into the house.
Inside the house, it smelt like gingerbread. Mike inhaled deeply, and his stomach growled loudly. Jada’s answered in enthusiastic response. He looked over. Her face had turned bright pink.
“Sit down, both of you. I’ll get some coffee, and you can have some gingerbread and butter.”
“Butter?” Jada asked, her brown eyes large and luminous with something akin to lust.
⅏
Mike sat back, replete, Zack in his lap. The baby had fallen asleep, crumbs on his rounded face from the tiny bites Mike had given him. He kissed the top of the soft blond head and held him a little tighter. Tears burned the backs of his eyes, and he swallowed the sorrow down.
He told Janet that he’d found Alisa, but didn’t tell her any details other than that he’d buried her with Stephen. Janet wept
. Mike knew she’d held out hope that he would find Alisa alive. He also told her about how he and Jada had met, and that he’d found the raider’s home ground.
Jada was quiet through most of the discussion, only adding monotone responses. Though he told Janet of the two dead men, no one felt happy about it. All the while, Mike held and rocked Zack, as though afraid to let him go.
Janet got up from the table and took several buckets of hot water from the wood stove. She always kept large kettles filled with hot water on the stove. It kept the house humidified, counteracting the dry heat the wood stove put out. She carried the buckets into the bathroom.
Coming back into the kitchen, she got Jada and led her to the bathroom. Mike saw the surprise, tears, and gratitude suffuse Jada’s face when she saw the bath waiting for her. She disappeared into the bathroom.
“That was really nice of you, Janet. I don’t think she’s had a bath since the world went to hell,” Mike said, sipping his coffee. He balanced the solid Zack, shifting his arms. He saw the question in Janet’s eye to take the baby, but he shook his head. He needed to hold the child to feel human again, to have the connection to his friends.
“I just can’t imagine how she survived so long. My God, she is so thin. At least we can fatten her up and get her clean. Somehow, life is just a little easier and a little better with a full tummy and clean hair. At least, for me it is,” she said, and grinned.
“Yeah. I hope you don’t mind an extra mouth. I just didn’t know what to do with her. I couldn’t leave her there. They’d have eventually captured her.”
“Oh no, Mike, she’s welcome. I’m glad you were able to save her.”
“I figure I’ll wait it out a week or so, then head back to hit them again. Right now, it’s just too dangerous with Jada so weak. I only have my Glock and five rounds. Those bastards took all our guns and ammo. I can’t afford to screw this up.”
