When the Pain is Gone

by P. A. Glaspy

  Mike shook his head. “No, I was thinking about how much food I didn’t have. I was one of those people, the ones who didn’t keep much food in the house. Single guy, never really into cooking, it was just as easy to throw a TV dinner in the microwave or pick something up on the way home. I did have a nice stock of Vienna sausages and crackers though. Don’t know why, but I love those nasty little wieners. Try making a case of those and a couple of boxes of crackers last more than a week. Not happening. Fortunately, I did know how to hunt, though I hadn’t done it for years. I did realize it wasn’t just a power outage pretty quick. That helped me start planning.”

  “Fortunately for all of us, we’ve been planning for years. I hate that it happened, but I’m glad we were ready. Well, as ready as we could be.”

  “So am I, buddy, and very glad we met. I can’t imagine where I’d be right now if it weren’t for this place, or the folks we had with us then. Especially the ones with kids.”

  Russ smiled at him. “Everything happens for a reason. There was a reason Brian and I found the Scanlins the first time, there was a reason they found you, and there was a reason we all found each other. This was supposed to happen. Now, what do you say we try to get some power up in here?”

  Mike was unwinding the heavy electrical wire. “Let’s do it.”

  Chapter 3

  The trial of Clay Glass never happened.

  The scene at the Glass home was nothing short of macabre. Rhonda had walked out of the front door of their trailer when she heard the trucks pull up. Seeing her son’s body lying in the bed of Clay’s truck, she rushed over to it and fell on Jay’s body keening and wailing, “My boy! My baby boy! Lord, they’ve killed my little boy!” It was apparent she truly loved her sons. The pain emanating from her was genuine and so strong the men could feel it, like a physical wave of heat against their faces. Clay went to his mother and tried to pull her to him but she jerked away and laid her head back on her younger son’s lifeless form. Gary waited for her sobs to subside. When she seemed to be getting control of herself, he spoke quietly to her.

  “Ms. Glass, I am so sorry for your loss. I know you’re hurting right now, but—”

  She jerked herself up and pierced him with a hate-filled glare. “Yes! I am hurting! I’m dying inside right now! Who did this? Did you arrest them, Sheriff? I want to know who murdered my son!”

  Gary took a step back from the verbal assault, knowing the woman was grieving. He reached out to lay a hand on her shoulder, to comfort her.

  “No, ma’am, we didn’t arrest anybody. There’s more to this story than you know. You see …”

  She jerked away from him. “No, I do not see! What is there to see? My son was butchered! Someone has to be held accountable for this crime!”

  Tim stepped between her and Gary, his frustration with the woman’s emotions and abuse rushing forth—from his mouth. “Lady, your baby boy was part of the ambush and murder of two innocent men. You need to back off.”

  Gary looked at him with a mix of gratitude and exasperation. Gratitude for the support; exasperation for exacerbating the situation with his bluntness.

  Rhonda stood with her mouth hanging open. “You lie! That’s a bald-faced lie! My sons would never do anything like that. Clay, tell him he’s wrong.”

  She turned to the one son she had left, no doubt expecting him to vindicate his brother and himself. Clay stood with his head bowed, not looking at his mother, or anyone for that matter. He spoke just above a whisper.

  “It’s true, Momma. We was there,” he replied, but then quickly added, “but we didn’t shoot nobody. We didn’t even want to be involved. They made us. They threatened to kill us, then come find you and kill you, too—after they beat and raped you. We had to go, Momma! We didn’t want to, but we had to! Forgive me, Momma! Please forgive me!”

  Clay fell to his knees at his mother’s feet, sobbing. Rhonda looked down at him with fresh tears flowing and caressed his head. “Oh, honey, it’s not your fault. You was just tryin’ to provide for us, now wasn’t ya? Tryin’ to take care of your momma and protect her, and just got tangled up with the wrong folks. Can’t nobody fault you for that.”

  “Actually, we can, Ms. Glass. He is guilty by association, because he was with those guys when they shot and killed two men from the Warren place. I’m afraid I’m going to have to take him in as soon as we get your other son buried. We brought him here as a courtesy to you, out of respect for your loss. Once we get Jay laid to rest, we’re heading to the office and he’s coming with us.” Gary was compassionate but firm.

  “No! I’m not losing both of my boys on the same day! You can’t do this to me, Sheriff! I need him to help me; I’m disabled, you know. I can’t get around very well, and we’re about out of food. My boys have been scavenging the empty houses in the area since everything went off. They ain’t hurt anyone, ain’t taken from no one, ’cept what folks was willing to give. I can’t make it without him; I’ll die without him! He’s all I have left!” Rhonda started wailing again. Tim looked heavenward. Gary shook his head and looked down as he dug a hole in the dirt with the toe of his boot.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, but he has to come with us. We need him to tell us what led up to them gunning down two people who were doing nothing more than getting along in this new world and who were actually trying to help us get set up to plant some good-sized crops to feed the people here in town. Scavenging is fine as long as there’s something to scavenge. What happens when all that food is gone? It won’t be long until that’s the case, if we aren’t already there. What will people do then? Winter will be here before we know it and if we don’t have some food stores built up and put back, a lot of folks are going to starve, including you. I’m pretty sure this chain of events has screwed that whole plan and now we are going to have to find some way to either fix it or come up with a new one. Every day that goes by that we don’t have crops in the ground is another growing day wasted. We don’t have time for this shit!” Gary was getting worked up now. The wailing was grating on his nerves. “Now tell me where you want your boy buried so we can be done with that and get back to figuring out how to feed a thousand people this winter!”

  Rhonda was indignant. “How dare you talk to me like that! I’m the victim here! I’m—”

  “You’re shutting up now,” Tim replied quietly, with a veiled threat. “The sheriff has spent enough time trying to make you understand. This is not just about you, Rhonda. It’s about the whole damn town. Now, either tell us where to bury Jay or we can just go on with our business and leave him like this for you to deal with. Alone.”

  She opened her mouth to say something else, then closed it. With her lips set to a thin line, she turned and walked to the back side of her trailer where a small garden from a previous tenant had been laid out many years before. She pointed to the spot, taking on a whiny tone. “Here. Bury him here where he’ll be close and I can come talk to him while I’m alone and starving to death. Then you won’t have far to carry my body to lay beside him when you find me dead one day, wasted away to nothin’.”

  Clay rushed to his mother’s side. “You ain’t dyin’, Momma! I’ll be back as quick as I can. I’m gonna help the sheriff find those assholes so he can bring them to justice. I’ll get immunity for doing that, right Sheriff Burns?”

  Gary looked at Tim, who shrugged and said, “It would solve the problem of what to do with him, since we can’t feed him. He wouldn’t be given the death penalty for being there, Sheriff. He’d probably get prison time though.”

  Gary looked thoughtful. “Hmm. Maybe we could make his garden work time mandatory, like the old working prisons used to be. He could stay here with his mother at night, but during the day he works full time in the community garden—that is if there still is a community garden.”

  Clay was nodding his head vigorously. “I could do that, Sheriff. I surely could. Then I can still look after my momma here.”

  Rhonda was grinning until she saw Gary watchin
g her. She toned it down to a small smile. “Thank you, Sheriff Burns. I’ll feel much better having my only son with me, at least at night. Would you say a few words over Jay’s grave, since we ain’t got a preacher close by?”

  “Uh, well, I guess I could, um, do that. Sure.” Gary looked uncomfortable, and Tim was snickering at him. Gary glared at Tim. “Something funny, Deputy? This isn’t a laughing matter. Go get the shovel and get to digging. We need to get back to the office.”

  Tim stopped laughing. He had a look of indignation on his face as he grabbed a shovel out of the back of Gary’s truck and headed around the trailer. On the way, he spied another one lying on the ground, rusted from the weather. He picked it up, carried it with him and handed it to Clay. “Here. Might as well get used to handling things like shovels and hoes. You’re going to be spending a lot of time with them. Get to digging.”

  “Sure thing, Deputy. No problem.” Clay took the shovel with a satisfied look on his face. What was he up to now?

  ****

  By the time they got to the jail, Clay had filled the sheriff in on everything he knew about Alan and his crew, including his thoughts about where they were holed up. Tim never said a word about knowing the guys. Gary questioned him further. “What makes you think they’re at the Callen place, Clay? Did they tell you that?”

  “Yeah, Sheriff, they said they was staying out there, that the Callens were friends of theirs. That Alan guy said the Callens must have been gone when it all went down, cuz they hadn’t been home. Do you think those guys might have killed them?”

  Gary shook his head. “No, thank God. Luke and Casey Callen are at the Warren farm. They did have a run-in with those men before they left their home, and again as they were leaving to go stay with the Warren group. My guess is they knew the Callens had left because they saw them pulling out with their camper. They just didn’t know where they went.”

  “Well, I bet if you go out there, you’ll find them. They did the shootin’, Sheriff. Me and Jay didn’t even raise our guns. We didn’t want to go, but he made us, Alan that is. We ain’t hurt nobody, and Jay got killed anyway! You gotta believe me, Sheriff Burns—this wasn’t our idea. We just go to houses that are empty and see if they have food; you know, like the folks didn’t get back after everything went off. We ain’t done harm to a livin’ soul.”

  “So you keep saying, Clay. You’re innocent, you were just minding your own business and these guys showed up at the Dotson home at the same time as you and shanghaied you and your brother into showing them how to get into the Warren farm. Now, explain this to me: I know for a fact that you had been to the Dotson place before. Jim told me he ran you off when you tried to climb in his kitchen window after they wouldn’t give you any more handouts. If you were only going to houses that you knew for sure no one was there, what were you doing back at their place? You didn’t know they were gone. Were you looking for trouble with Jim again, because that’s what it sounds like to me.”

  Clay went wide-eyed. “N-no, Sheriff, we wasn’t lookin’ for no trouble. Pickins’ is gettin’ slim now from the empty houses. We thought they were still there. I was gonna beg old man—er, Mr. Dotson to let us work on his place for some more food and stuff. They had a pretty decent sized garden and with no equipment to work it, we figured he’d be needin’ some farm hands.” Gary knew Clay was lying through his teeth, probably hoping the sheriff couldn’t tell. Wishful thinking.

  “Don’t give me that bullshit, Clay. You haven’t worked a minute for anything you’ve gotten up until now, outside of breaking into people’s homes. I guess you consider jimmying doors and busting windows work. I thought a couple of times you were gonna pass out digging your brother’s grave and it isn’t even that hot out yet. I doubt Jim would have traded you much food for a whole ten minutes of work.”

  Tim snorted with laughter. Clay’s face turned red and he looked like he was about to cuss Tim and Gary both but he held his tongue. Instead he replied, “I know I’ve been kind of a slacker, but I’m turning over a new leaf, Sheriff. I want to help my town. I’ve seen what happens when you get tangled up with the wrong people, even though we wasn’t tryin’ to. You tell me what you need me to do and I’m there. Scout’s honor.”

  Tim looked at him with a smirk. “Like you were ever a Boy Scout.”

  Clay apparently couldn’t stand the smart-mouthed deputy one second longer. “Yeah, I don’t reckon either one of us was good enough to go down that road, huh Tim?”

  Tim started toward Clay but Gary put a hand across his chest. “Okay fellas, that’ll do. Clay, I’m going to let you go on home to your momma. You are to go straight there and stay there until tomorrow morning. First thing in the morning I want you back here. We’ll put you to cleaning up around the station until we get this crop situation worked out. First thing, not ten or noon. Understood?”

  Clay was watching Tim, but nodded at Gary. “Absolutely, Sheriff. I’ll be here.” He smiled at Gary, flipped Tim off behind his back, and headed out the door.

  ****

  When he got to the sheriff’s office the next morning, Clay knocked on the locked door and was let in by Gary. He looked around and figured out that someone was living there. Clothes were hanging from ropes strung across one end of the room, including women’s apparel. What the hell is going on up in here? Who all is staying here? As if in answer to his unspoken question, Mayor Angie Hale came around the corner from the break room with a water packet and a cereal bar. He peered past her into the room. When he saw all the rations in there, he was livid—inside. Where did all that stuff come from? What right do they have to keep it for themselves? Outside, he acted like nothing was any different. Inside, he was trying to figure out how to get his hands on some of it to take home for him and his mom. Outside, he pretended to not even know what they were. Angie stopped when she saw him. She gave Gary a questioning look.

  “Oh, Angie—Mayor Hale, this is Clay Glass. I told you about him. He’s the one who will be working for us in a lot of different capacities to pay his debt to society for the awful scenario he was involved in at the Warren farm, though he wasn’t the shooter. Clay, this is Mayor Angie Hale.”

  Angie moved both food and water to her left hand, and extended her right to Clay. “Hello Clay. I’m happy to see you were open to alternate methods of sentencing for your infractions, and that hopefully you are striving to become a productive member of our community. It will take all of us working together to survive this situation, especially when winter gets here.”

  Clay shook her hand. “Yes, ma’am. I’ve got my momma to take care of, so I’m willing to do whatever I have to, to make sure she has food to eat and stays warm this winter, even though that’s a long way off.”

  “Yes, but it will be here before we know it, and we have a lot of work to do to get ready for it. It’s easy to not think about it when the temperature outside is eighty degrees or more. That will be a completely different story six or seven months from now when it could quickly drop into the twenties. Gary, I’d like to sit down with you this morning and talk about the garden situation, as well as making plans for this winter; as soon as you’re done here, of course.”

  Gary nodded. “Let me get Clay situated and I’ll be right back.” Angie smiled and continued on to his office. Clay was eyeballing the MREs in the break room when Gary turned back to him. Clay caught the movement from the sheriff and focused on him instead.

  “So, what you want me to work on this morning, Sheriff? Sweeping up? Maybe organizing those supplies in there? How can I help?”

  Gary walked over and pulled the break room door closed. “Your first chore may be the toughest. Follow me.” He led Clay back to the men’s room and reached for the handle. Clay grimaced, certain he would be assaulted with a horrendous smell; one he had smelled more than once since the water stopped flowing. As the sheriff pushed the door open, Clay was surprised. While there was a slight odor, it wasn’t nearly as bad as some of the ones he’d encountered over the past few
weeks.

  “Wow. I was expectin’ that to smell real bad, but it ain’t bad at all. How are you able to use the toilets still, Sheriff?”

  Gary kept walking to the back stall. “We aren’t exactly using a toilet per se. We have what are called honey buckets. It’s basically a bucket with a toilet seat and a trash bag like liner to collect the waste. You need to take the lid off, which will increase the smell quickly, close the bag and change it out for a new one. We have one in here and one in the ladies’ room. I want both of them bagged up and a new one put in. You’ll find spare bags in the utility closet just outside, along with a broom and some antibacterial wipes. I want you to sweep the floors in both bathrooms, and wipe down the sinks with one of those wipes. Make sure the bucket seats are cleaned, too, but do those after the sinks are done in both. Try to only use one wipe, two at the most. There won’t be any more of those made for a while. Take the toilet bags out back. You’ll see a dumpster across the alley where we’ve been depositing them. Come see me when you’re done.”

  Gary turned and walked out. Clay looked at the bucket then back at the door the sheriff had just gone through. I bet I can milk this gig for at least an hour, maybe two. Drag this out ’til lunchtime, and see what kind of food they got in them packs in there. Clay stood beside the bucket, smiling. Yeah, a little shit work here and there might just get some good supplies for me and Momma. This might turn out to be a great setup. He headed for the utility room, at a slow, easy gait. No reason to rush things.

  ****

  Angie was sitting on the sofa in the sheriff’s office when Gary came in and shut the door behind him. He went to his desk and sat on the edge, giving her his full attention. “Now, what can I do for you, Madam Mayor?” He had a teasing tone to his voice and a grin on his face. Angie, however, was all business.

  “Gary, is the Warren farm still an option? After what happened …”