by Ian Daniels
“Didn’t you learn anything?”
“Look, this isn’t the time.”
I backed away a couple steps but she kept moving forward until I was backed up against the living room wall.
“You were his best friend!” she snapped at me.
“And you were his wife!” I knew right now that this conversation was not going to go well; even so, I didn't stop myself. She wanted to accuse me? Make me solely responsible for what had happened?
“I might have known him since we were kids but if you didn’t pick up on a sudden onset of psychopathic tendencies, how was I supposed to?”
She suddenly drew a pistol from behind her back and pressed the muzzle to my temple. I didn’t know what she thought I would do but she wasn't ready for me to press my forehead back into the gun’s barrel, not allowing her to pull it away.
“Will this fix it?” I asked her grimly, pressing my head even harder into her gun.
“You just want more killing and death, even if its you!” she finally shrank away from me.
“I have never wanted that,” I tried to tell her.
While completely true, the words fell far short.
“Bullshit! You wouldn't be as good at it as you are if you didn't want to kill things... kill people! Destroy lives!”
“I don't have the stuff I have, know what I know and do what I do because I want to kill, it's because I want to live!”
It was the best defense I could come up with. Whether she could understand the difference in her emotional state right now, I doubted. All I could tell her was the truth as I saw it.
“So what, now you’re just going to go find a new bunch of people to impose on? I mean you have such a good track record with helping your friends, maybe you can fuck up their lives too!” she lashed out painfully again.
This was going nowhere and I was tired of being yelled at, even if I deserved it, which I wasn't completely convinced that I did. Maybe she was right; maybe I shouldn’t have any friends close to me right now or ever. Maybe I was just destined to be a vessel for trouble to happen around.
No. I knew what would give people the best chances to survive in an environment like we now faced. I knew no one could truly go it alone and live during something like this. The question that she was making me ask myself though was if I was just running to Plan B now that my initial plan had been devastated? Was I just running to find stability?
No, I didn't need stability. Hell I was a virtual master of living in chaos. I didn't need to be around people for my own well being, at least not for the mental side of it anyway. I knew there wasn't any of us that would get through this on our own. I had always known that people needed to band together to survive.
The friends I had in mind to go talk to had a big family that lived pretty close by. They had land and farms and abilities. For me... for us... for them to have the best chance, they would need to be out here, close to their family and out of the city to have the best shot surviving; the best chance at living.
The truth of the matter was that I would need a group like that close by to help me to live too. Shit, was that why I wanted to check in on them? To bolster the probability of my own survival? I had tried to get Henry and his family on board, then Clint and Blake, Now what? Was I doing this for them or for myself? I guess only time would tell.
Danielle’s berating tirade at my expense had worked itself into my head. I knew what I had in mind was a mutually beneficial solution. She must have hit me with just enough truth, and I must have been just vulnerable enough after losing Blake, that I was starting to second guess my motivation and actions. That was a rare and unwelcome occurrence for me.
I looked one last time at Danielle standing with her hands on her hips, her face flushed and tears in her eyes as she waited for me to answer her and give another opportunity to tear me down some more. Well screw it; I had had enough for today. Turning around I looked at Clint. As usual, he knew what I was doing and thinking. He and I would talk again soon enough, one way or another.
Clint started to get up but winced again and thought better of it. He knew I didn’t need him to defend me and that I wasn't looking for him to tell me he forgave me or anything like that, but still, he stepped up with some fatherly words for all of us to hear.
“This is the way things are now. We’re fighters. We have all prepared in our own ways to survive what has happened and what is going to happen. Unfortunately, the terrible byproduct of preparing against violence is that you’re around violence and you have to embrace it a little bit if you’re going to survive it. You do that enough and it becomes part of your personality, whether you like it or not.”
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What is it about fire? Does it destroy or does it remake? Does it remove or does it refresh? When the forest has become overgrown with dead wood, weeds and waste, fire cleanses it and allows the toughest trees the opportunity to grow on, less hindered. A man may find himself in the same circumstance. When someone has always lived in the forest and knows every tree and shrub there, they are really all he knows until one day his familiar trees and shrubs are uprooted. All he knows gets burned and stripped away to leave only the core to either fight and grow, or wither and die. The question then becomes, how long will a spirit lay dormant, recovering and readying itself for its next phase of life?
Epilogue
The small band of looters, robbers, or whatever they were for the night, were two houses away. The masks and hoods over their heads did a surprisingly good job at breaking up their outline and hiding them in the shadows of the darkened homes. I only had a few minutes before they got here and either saw me, or moved to break into Nick and Breanne’s place next.
It was past eleven thirty at night and I didn't exactly want to ring the doorbell right now...so to speak...announcing that there was someone here to turn the looters attention to. I was frankly tired of being shot at but I was more worried about the risk of catching the family in a crossfire.
Disappearing behind a large shrub I carefully walked down the side of the house. Most of the snow had melted off with a little bit of sunshine over the past few days and the low temperatures at night had frozen what was left of it into rock hard and dangerously slippery ice.
I moved towards the lone window, trying not to crunch the ice under my feet. Nick had his office set up in the room with the window on this side of the house. I cupped my gloved hand over the end of my flashlight to allow only a pencil thin ray of light to escape and put my face up to the glass to look in. The room was empty.
My knife flexed and after applying a considerable amount of force, I jimmied the window open, lifted myself up and promptly slipped and fell through the opening, landing on a paper shredder and one of the kid’s toy trains that peeped its little whistle happily until I found and smashed the off button. Ringing the doorbell would have been easier.
Pulling my gloves off and shaking my head a little, I managed to stifle a laugh at myself. So far, to lay low and take it easy, I had hiked more than twenty miles, then stopped at my office and workshop only to find it cleaned out and my boss long gone. After that I had helped a nice family change a flat tire on their trailer and promptly got bit by their dog. It was them that told me how bad things were getting on this side of town, so where did I go? Right back into the thick of it.
Inside the city limits I managed to avoid any other issues. I snuck through most of the areas unseen, and blended in with other people scrounging around when I just couldn't hide anymore. After four days and three nights, I had made it all the way to Nick and Breanne’s house. It was normally a thirty five minute car ride when traffic was bad.
Now that I had finally made it here, I was forced to break into the very place I had wanted to make sure was safe and secure. This wasn’t a very good start.
The door from the office into the hallway thankfully opened noiselessly and I moved slowly to the living r
oom. There were heavy blinds over most of the windows and everything looked as normal as it did when I would come over to barbecue steaks and drink beer with Nick once a month.
A scratching sound near the front door caught my attention and I quickly crouched down and raised my AK before realizing it was the wind pushing a branch against the wall. My nerves were way too keyed up for this.
In a harsh whisper I called out Nick and Breanne’s names, hoping they’d hear my voice calling out their own names and not be completely startled and panicked. Nothing. Quietly I moved down the hall and knocked softly at their bedroom door, again calling their names.
I tried again and finally turned the knob to look inside, my hand still covering the majority of my flashlight beam. Again everything looked relatively in place until I noticed that the bed had been stripped of all the blankets and pillows. Then it hit me, downstairs. The house was built on a hillside and essentially not all that different from my own. Its main story was at street level but there was a daylight basement that extended down the hill into the backyard. They must have figured that being away from the street and half underground was a safer spot to spend their time. It was an ironic concept considering the eventual outcome of my own underground exploitations over the last two weeks.
I retreated back out into the hallway and returned to the living room. The dining room and kitchen were on the back side of the house over by the stairs. I was about to knock and call down the staircase when another noise caught my attention, this time it wasn’t the wind. I looked around quickly for anything that would help muffle the blast if I had to ambush the looters as they came through the doorway. Even with my silencer in place, it was going to make a hell of a racket and scare the shit out of the family sleeping downstairs.
Grabbing up a big cushion off the sofa as I went, I shoved my barrel into it and pressed the whole thing against the front door. I had no clue if it would help to muzzle the shot but it was one of those things I had seen in a movie and just maybe blind luck would be on my side... for once. That was about the time I heard the soft steps coming up the spiral staircase. So much for luck being on my side.
Crap.
I glanced back and forth at the door and the stairs. Sounds of ice covered snow and whispering voices could just barely be heard from the front yard. I looked to the staircase again. A shadowy head followed by a shapely figure was emerging from it and heading towards the kitchen. Leaving the door and its deadbolt lock to hold off any break in attempt, I went towards the kitchen. Although not opposed to shooting and despite my best efforts at convincing them to upgrade their home security, Nick and Breanne didn’t have a gun in the house. Or at least they didn’t the last time I had seen them, so I wasn’t too worried about being shot as an intruder.
“Bre,” I called out quietly as I came around the corner only to be met by a buzzing arc of blue light in the darkness.
“Motherf....” she started to yell and stabbed the taser towards me.
Instinctively swiveling to the side, I dropped my AK to its sling and grabbed her wrist with my hand, controlling the powerful little stun gun and keeping it away from my body.
Breanne's instincts kicked in and she went to knee me me in the balls. I managed to wrap my other arm around her body first and hugged her back to my chest before she fought any further. The taser fell to the ground and she started to scream for Nick, my hand letting go of hers to fly to her mouth and clamp down, gently... but firmly.
"Shhh... don’t scream. Stop, turn around and look at me, it’s me.”
I slowly let my hand come away from her mouth and loosened my hold slightly after I was sure she had heard and understood me. I kept a hold of her in case she panicked again and allowed just enough freedom for her to turn and see my face.
It took her a second to recognize me and maybe make sure I was who I said I was and then she broke into a huge smile and engulfed me in a giant hug. Her silky blue night shirt was the first warm feeling my hands had felt in as long as I could remember.
"What're you doing here?" She pulled her head back to look at me in the eyes.
“Came to find you... see how you guys were doing,” I stumbled.
Time stopped between our eyes for a fraction of a second before I remembered the guys on the other side of her living room door. Breanne looked like she was about to speak but I put a finger to my lips to hush her voice. “We’ve got problems,” I whispered, and before I could finish the thought, she put a hand to my cheek and pulled her face in close to mine. My brain was suddenly having a hard time multitasking on the break-in in progress and whatever it was that Breanne was doing. Largely oblivious to what girls were thinking at any given time, I watched as her lips barely parted, then passed by my own to whisper into my ear.
“You’re telling me...”
“Huh? No look is Nick downstairs?” I finally kicked over and focused.
“Yeah,” she huffed abruptly, seemingly put off at my change of pace and subject for some reason. “Why?”
“Because there’s some guys breaking into your house.”
I must have said it a little more casually than I intended to, and after a blank expression, she finally reacted by turning quickly to look around.
“What? Where? Now?”
“Hmm? Oh yeah, front door. Can I borrow this?” I asked and picked up the taser then quickly positioned myself to the side of the door just in time as it forcefully recoiled back from a nice kick by whoever was on the other side. I wasn't quite ready with a plan or anything so I let Breanne’s earlier actions inspire me.
The first guy through the door was easy. One taser to the balls and he was down. The second guy made the mistake of looking like he was going to swing at me with something in his hand. He took a flat kick in the stomach and an elbow to the back of his neck. The next one was just dumbfounded and standing out on the front stoop. I had him by the throat with one hand and my Glock pressed into his mouth too quickly for him to yell or run.
Over the last week of recouping and travel I had done a little bit of soul searching, wondering if I needed to revamp any previous conceptions in regards to altercations with other people given the changing and increasingly desperate and violent times we were experiencing. In the end I decided I was still on the right track and to just tighten things up a little bit. I would stick to a hard line of nonintervention to avoid contact when at all possible. Not that it had worked out all that well yet, but it was still a solid philosophy.
When it was absolutely not possible to avoid the type of shit storms that seemed to gravitate to me, I was going to be going no holds barred and ruthlessly brutal. I would engage viciously and then break contact as soon as possible, when it was called for... like now.
That was the plan, but these guys had pissed me off. Not because they were scrounging, but because they weren't limiting it to relatively harmless scrounging. These idiots had masks and were going to houses people were still trying to live in. It pissed me off even more when I pulled the ski mask off the guy I had kicked and turned my pistol light on him. He looked about sixteen years old.
That’s when I shifted my grip from the guy's throat that I was crushing and tightened it on my rising temper.
“You have families?” A gravelly voice I barely recognized as my own asked pointedly.
“Yes,” a round of nods and grunts sounded.
“Then go make sure no one is doing this to them,” I directed, then threw the one I had by the throat down the two stairs that made up the front porch.
I hit the momentary switch on my light again and illuminated each of their faces just to get the point across. The last I saw, they were all running in the direction of the main arterial that connected to the neighborhood. Well one of them was running while the others tried to carry the one with a noticeable slack-legged limp still clutching at his crotch.
Fine by me.
“Was all that really necessary?” Breanne’s voice surprised me from the corner. She was standing behind
the sofa, zipping up a fleece coat over her somewhat revealing sleepwear and didn't have the same happy look and body language she had had just a few minutes ago.
In response, I drew and handed her a subcompact Glock I had stowed on me as a backup gun.
“Watch the door ‘til we find something to close it up with.”
They might not have owned any guns, but I had taken both Nick and Breanne to the range along with Breanne’s brother and his friend. She knew the basics and I knew she had the attitude to be able to pull the trigger when...if, the time came.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Nicks voice called out to me from the top of the stairs. Apparently the ruckus of dealing with the robbers had finally managed to wake him up.
“Hey there sunshine, how’re you doing?” I came over and shook his hand.
He was still obviously not completely awake and that, combined with the surprise of having to wonder what I was doing in his house, and trying to figure out why his front door was busted in, and why his wife was glaring at him, it all seemed to make him a little confused and standoffish.
“I told you I heard a noise!” Breanne admonished her husband. “But oh no, you said it was probably nothing and to go back to sleep. Some...”
“Okay guys can I interrupt here?” I held up my hands between them. “First of all, are the kids alright?” I asked.
“They’re fine. We’re all camped out downstairs by the fireplace to stay warm,” Nick finally answered me.
“You guys still have natural gas in the lines?”
“No, we put a little propane heater unit in last spring. Not sure how much is left so we’re only turning it on now and then to not freeze.”
Propane… I swore silently to myself.
“Well good thinking getting downstairs anyway,” I acknowledged.
“Um, so what are you doing here? And why do you look like hell? Are you alright?” Breanne chimed in, her eyes appraising me unblinkingly.
