Stuart left the ammo and some of the other supplies by the bike. He unloaded the bags of food from the bike and took them down the alley way stairs to what remained of the Dungeon doors. He lit his homemade torches on the way in that illuminated the Dungeon.
Chapter 12
Mackenzie was a few hundred feet in front of her dad coasting down a big hill into the town of Spearfish when she heard it. She leaned over further and strained with her ears to see if she could hear it again, but after another block of coasting, she convinced herself that she was hearing things.
Then she heard it again. She grabbed both hand brakes and skidded to a stop in the middle of the street. She straddled the bike and was fully concentrating again on trying to hear the sound. All she could hear was the wind blowing slightly and the sound of her heart beating.
A few seconds later, Patrick caught up and stopped next to her in the street. He was slightly amused and puzzled at what she was doing. She was standing straddling the bike with her head cocked to one side, and a look of pure concentration on her face.
“What in the world are...” Patrick managed to get out with a little chuckle in his voice before Mackenzie shushed him with a look that meant she was serious.
“Didn’t you hear that?” She asked with a monotone whisper.
“Hear what?” Patrick responded in a similar whisper.
They sat there for another ten seconds or so before Mackenzie relaxed a little and stood straight up. “I thought that I heard a...” she started to say and then stopped suddenly. “There! You heard that, right?” She asked her dad now with excitement in her voice as if she had been doubting herself again.
“Sorry. I didn’t hear anything,” Patrick replied.
“I think that it’s coming from up on that hill” Mackenzie said as she stared up a large hill with a few rows of houses built into the side of it. She didn’t wait for her dad to ask any more questions or caution her about what she was doing, she just turned her bike in the direction of a side street that looked like it might head to the hill and started pedaling.
Patrick didn’t know what she was up to, but didn’t think that there was much harm in letting whatever she was up to play out. They had enough supplies and were only turning down into the town from the interstate to find some place to stay for the night. He started after her, but he didn’t feel like matching the somewhat frantic pace she had started with, so she began to pull away from him rather quickly as they made their climb up the hillside.
Makenzie was a couple of blocks ahead of Patrick when he seen her turn right on another side street, then he heard what had gotten her all excited. The unmistakable sound of a low power rifle being fired. As soon as he recognized it, his heart jumped into his chest and he could feel it beating in his temples. A wave of feelings and thoughts washed over him immediately. Someone else was alive! He had known that they weren’t the only two left on Earth, but some nights he was beginning to doubt himself. Then his thoughts turned to why someone would be shooting, and what could they be shooting at? Then all he could think of was Mackenzie. He could no longer see her, and his dad mode kicked in. He no longer noticed his burning chest and beating heart; he stood up on the pedals, shifted down two gears, and pumped his legs as hard as they could go. His legs pumped harder than even he thought he could go.
He wasn’t sure which way she had went now after he had made the turn where he thought she had been, and there was no sign of her. He didn’t slow at all though, he just kept cruising. He heard another shot, this time much closer. He could tell that it was coming from a little higher on the hill and a few blocks down yet. He wanted to call out to Mackenzie so bad to see where she was, but as close as that shot was, whoever was shooting would surely hear him.
He didn’t slow as he turned his bike up a side street going up the hill and started around the corner when he heard his daughter call out from behind him. “Dad!” she exclaimed in a hoarse voice that made him stop in his tracks.
He skidded to a stop and let his bike slam to the ground as he turned to look for her. She was hunkered down to the ground behind a hedge of some kind looking up the street with binoculars in her hand. Her bike was neatly parked and leaning up against the hedge.
Patrick ran bent over back to her position and slid down next to her behind the hedge. He was breathing so hard that he couldn’t speak.
“What are you doing?” Mackenzie asked flabbergasted. “Didn’t you hear those gun shots?”
It took a few seconds and several labored breaths before Patrick could start to answer. “Me?” He finally worked out at the end of one breath. “What... do... you... think.... you’re doing.... sprinting away” he got the words out with a weird rhythm while he was still trying to catch his breath.
When Mackenzie realized that he was chastising her for taking off, she shook her head and got back into position at the end of the hedge. She looked back through the binoculars just as another shot rang out.
Patrick quit trying to impart his wisdom on her when he heard the shot and instead fully concentrated on his breathing and listening.
“I think that it’s just another block up there, but I can’t see anything” Mackenzie says without looking at her father. “Who could it be Dad?” She asks.
With his breathing a little more under control, he answers with “I have no idea Darlin’” just as another shot rings out. “I don’t think that they are shooting at someone though,” Patrick finishes after a couple of seconds.
“What do you mean?” Mackenzie asks, this time lowering the binoculars and turning to look at her dad.
“Just the timing of the shots,” he responded still trying to put all his thoughts together and finish catching his breath. “They are far enough apart… and not frantic,” he continued. “And with as many of them as they are,” he said convincing himself that he was right, “… someone’s just target practicing.” Patrick had done enough plinking in his younger days that he was sure that was exactly what was going on.
“Who could it be Dad?” Mackenzie asked with the excitement in her voice almost uncontrollable.
Patrick didn’t answer her directly, but instead began rifling through her bags tied to her bike leaning next to the hedge. He retrieved the .22 rifle from the center of the pack, loaded a shell into the chamber, put the safety on, and handed it to Mak. “Aim small…” he said waiting for the response.
“Miss small,” she retorted almost automatically.
“Stay on this side of the street, and stay back at least 50 feet,” he told her matter-of-factly. “Be quiet and keep your eyes peeled,” he said with his last instructions as she nodded her head. He bent forward and kissed her hair on the top of her head.
Patrick crawled out into the street to where his bike had toppled and began going through his bags as well. He had always been careful about making sure he could get to his AR rifle easily just in case something happened, but he had been getting lazy with the hunting rifle for the last several days. He finally freed it from the pack, jacked one in the chamber, flipped up the scope covers, and checked the safety. He dug deeper in his pack to find some extra shells.
Mackenzie looked down at her hands as they trembled holding the stainless-steel rifle. She had gotten tougher since she left for the trip with her dad, but she still didn’t like the idea of having to aim the rifle at someone. Her dad must have found whatever he was looking for at his bike, because he was scurrying to the other side of the street just as another shot was heard. This time, she heard some glass break almost immediately after the report of the shot. Mackenzie picked up the binoculars again and scanned ahead up the street where she thought the gun shots were coming from.
Mackenzie lowered the binoculars and placed their string around her neck as she watched her dad making his way along carefully on the other side of the street. He was using cars and hedges as cover as he slinked along. She wished that he hadn’t told her to stay back fifty feet. She really didn’t have any idea how far that was,
so now she was worried whether she was too far away or if she should wait a little longer. When Patrick escaped her point of view as he rounded a small blue pickup, she decided she needed to move. She stayed low and tried to creep along as she had seen her dad do, but she felt kind of stupid doing it. She made it to the next driveway that had a large cream colored van parked at the end of it, and peered around the back end of it just in time to see her dad go around a hedge and out of sight again.
The next driveway on her side of the street was empty, so she sneaked quickly past it and continued to the next one where a white pickup was parked in the street at the curb. When she reached it, she seen her dad on the other side of the street frantically holding his palm up and waving for her to stop. He motioned for her to get low just as another shot rang out. This time it was so close that Mackenzie heard herself squeal just a little bit. Her free hand instinctively went to her open mouth and she held her breath. The sound she made wasn’t loud, but it sure seemed out of place in this silent wonderland.
She continued to hold her breath and remain absolutely still for what seemed like forever. Her lungs were burning and her legs were aching when she heard another shot. Satisfied and relieved that she hadn’t been found out, she let her breath out quietly and carefully slid underneath the pickup truck parked at the curb. She army crawled up to the front wheel well and positioned herself to be able to look around with the binoculars. From where she was, she couldn’t see her dad, but when she last seen him he had been directly across the street from her. She also couldn’t see the shooter, but from the gun’s report and other sounds of movement she could tell that he was in the yard just past the front of the truck she was under. She slowly crept up to the very front edge of the bumper so that she could see around the tire, and then she saw him.
The shooter was a high school kid with a tall and lanky build, and he had dirty shoulder length dark hair that was unkempt. He was half singing, half humming a tune as he slowly waltzed around while reloading his rifle. Once reloaded, he leaned the rifle on a large plastic garbage can and took aim at something further down the street. He loaded a shell in the breach and eventually shot. Makenzie heard glass break again right after the shot. The shooter left his rifle lie on the lid of the garbage can as he lifted both arms in the air as a sign of victory and did a short dance that reminded Makenzie of the Rocky movie when he made it to the top of the steps in Philadelphia.
When the kid’s back was turned half-way in his victory dance, another shot from a much larger caliber rifle rang out from across the street. It was followed closely with Patrick’s booming voice telling the kid to “Hold it right there. Don’t move.”
Mackenzie got her rifle ready as well and took the safety off. She couldn’t quite make herself train it on the shooter just yet, but she felt that she could get ready quick if she needed to.
The shooter started to turn around slowly and Patrick yelled “Whooa. I thought that I said don’t move.” The kid complied and remained standing in his Rocky stance with his back to the street, Patrick, and his rifle.
“What are you shooting at kid?” Patrick yelled across the street. The kid didn’t respond right away, so Patrick yelled again. “Listen, there’s not that many of us left. I’d hate to have to shoot you over something stupid. Now what were you shooting at?”
“Windows,” the kid said back, though not very loud.
“What?” Patrick asked.
“Windows. I was shooting out windows of the houses down the street,” the shooter yelled back louder this time.
“What’s your name?” Patrick yelled.
“Stuart. Stuart Rappaport” the kid yelled back.
“How many are with you?” Patrick asked hopefully.
“Just me. It’s just me,” Stuart yelled back with a definite sullenness in his tone.
After what felt like a long pause, Patrick told Stuart what he was planning to do. “Okay Stuart,” Patrick started. “I’m going to slowly walk across the street and pick your rifle up from that dumpster.” With that, Patrick started slowly walking across the street with his rifle pointed in the general direction of Stuart. “Once I have both yours and my firearms, I’ll put them both down and we can talk,” he stated as he continued walking.
Stuart didn’t immediately reply. Patrick stopped walking after what seemed like too long of silence from Stuart. “Are you okay with that Stuart?” he yelled. Now that he was half-way across the street, he didn’t have to yell near as loud to make sure that he was heard by both Stuart and his daughter.
Stuart didn’t respond. “Stuart, I need to know that you’re okay with that plan or we need to come up with another one to get out of this awkward situation.” Patrick waited a few beats, but Stuart still didn’t respond. “Do you have a better idea Stuart? It just needs to be one where neither you or I get shot. Especially me.”
“Okay,” Stuart finally responded.
“Okay, here I come then,” Patrick said and started slowly walking across the street. He reached the dumpster with the rifle and picked it up. He opened the bolt and leaned both it and his own against a large pine tree a few feet behind him, but closer to him that to Stuart.
“Okay Stuart, we’re both unarmed. You can turn around and we can properly introduce ourselves,” Patrick told Stuart.
Stuart finally dropped his arms and slowly turned towards Patrick. Patrick’s first thought was just how disgustingly dirty the kid was. He would have guessed that the kid was of dark complexion when looking at him from across the street, but up close he could tell that he was Caucasian; he was just filthy. His hair looked like it was some kind of helmet from the amount of gunk in it. His skin had at least several layers of grime covering it, and his clothes surely hadn’t been changed since the cloud.
Patrick stuck his arm out with an open hand to Stuart. Stuart hesitantly reached out and shook the outstretched hand. “My name is Patrick Kincaid. I am very glad to meet you Stuart,” Patrick said. “I was beginning to think that there was no one else left. Have you found anyone else?”
“No,” Stuart answered in a meek voice. “Just me.”
“How did you survive it?” Patrick asked.
“I’m not sure,” Stuart said as if he hadn’t really thought about it yet. “The Dungeon I guess.”
“The Dungeon?” Patrick asked for clarification.
“Yeah, come on; I’ll show you,” Stuart said and began to turn back towards the bi-level home they were standing in front of.
“Uhhhh, not just yet. Let’s hang out and talk some more for a minute,” Patrick said sounding somewhat unsure of himself.
Stuart looked back at Patrick over his shoulder and said “What are you hiding man?”
“What do you mean?” Patrick asked.
“I mean what are you hiding?” Stuart asked this time with a confidence that Patrick knew he couldn’t bluff his way out of.
After another long pause, Patrick spoke in a loud voice “Come on out Mak.”
“What? You mean there are two of you?” Stuart said with an excited and higher pitched voice. Patrick could feel the unease coming from Stuart. He looked like he was going to flee, or do something stupid.
Makenzie flipped the safety back on her rifle and army crawled out from under the front bumper of the truck she had been lying under just twenty feet away. Patrick waved for her to approach them and then introduced them to each other, “Stuart, this is my daughter Mackenzie Kincaid. Makenzie this is Stuart Rappaport.” They both shook hands and Patrick could tell that Stuart’s unease was settled.
“Nice to meet you Stuart,” Makenzie said as they finished shaking hands. She took half of a step back before leaning in and involuntarily wrapped her arms around him in a hug. Patrick could see from his vantage point that she was grinning from ear to ear.
Stuart acted like he didn’t know what to do with the hug, but he put one arm around her and looked at Patrick with an expression that screamed for help.
“Okay Mak, turn him loos
e. He was just fixing on showing us a place that he calls the Dungeon,” Patrick said as he tapped her on the shoulder.
Makenzie did let him go, but held him at arm’s length for just a moment longer as she looked up into his eyes and said “It IS really nice to meet you Stuart.”
Stuart awkwardly turned and gestured for them to follow him into the back yard. Patrick picked up his rifle and they followed him a few paces behind. After taking a step or two, Mackenzie gave a little hop and kicked her heels together before putting one arm around her dad’s waist unable to temper her excitement that someone else was alive. They walked across the sloping yard and then down a set of steps to a gate at the alley. Once through the gate, they turned and were looking down into the stairs of the Dungeon.
Stuart took his lighter from his pocket and easily lit one of the homemade torches that he had left at the top of the stairs. He handed the lit torch to Patrick and grabbed another one from the pile for himself and lit it from Patrick’s. Stuart could see Patrick staring at and contemplating the design of homemade torches made from PVC pipe, a couple of fittings, and cloth wrapped around the tip.
“Did you make these?” Patrick asked Stuart.
“Yeah; the pipe has white gas and petroleum jelly in it with a strip of the cloth for a wick. They work really good,” Stuart finished sheepishly.
“That’s a really great design. Did you come up with it?” Patrick asked still closely inspecting the pipe.
“Yeah, I don’t like the dark,” Stuart said with a little more confidence. “Welcome to the Dungeon” Stuart told them doing an Axel Rose impression from another Guns n’ Roses song and stretching his arm out like Vanna White. He walked down the stairs and stepped around and over the heavy entry doors that were laying awkwardly on the last few steps into the Dungeon. He looked back and seen that the other two were hesitant to follow him, and were standing partially down the steps. He decided that telling them not to worry and to follow him blindly into the dark scary place probably wouldn’t work since they had just met. He decided to just go in and straighten things up while they mustered up the courage.
The Hike (Book 1): Survivors Page 14
