Downward Cycle

by JK Franks

  Nearly home then, Scott thought. His eyes focused on the collection of battered cookware strung together and hanging from a pack on the mule’s back. The pots were softly clinking together. The sound reminded Scott of an ancient Hindu ceremony he had seen once on TV. The little parade advanced until Todd was face-to-face with the deputy.

  “Hey, man,” the sweat soaked deputy said, “I heard you’d made a road trip. Glad to see you back in one piece.”

  “Thanks,” Todd responded, “I had my doubts a few times, it’s rough out there.”

  The deputy nodded. “Been a rough day and night here too. We had looters, murders over at the clinic…several houses burned. Also had a couple o’ state troopers go missin’.”

  “Shit,” said Todd, “No place is immune from this.”

  Shaking his head, the trooper said, “Not hardly, friend, not hardly,” he paused as he looked inside the car. “Looks like ya’ll could use some rest. Probably ready to get home. You be safe now.” He waved them on through.

  “Thanks, Doug,” Todd said as he pulled the Jeep through the barriers. The bearded man and mule lumbered on up the road, watching as the Jeep went by.

  Soon they turned onto Highway 50, and Scott saw the route of one of his more familiar rides. Things had changed, he could see. The familiar entrance down to the lake behind the old dam was now blocked with a steel gate that had a small “Closed” sign hanging from it. Farther down the road, they smelled the familiar tang of salty air coming up from the beach. They passed a small cargo truck that had bullet holes riddling the side, a dark shape slumped over the steering wheel. They saw an open suitcase on the road but no persons or car anywhere around. Tropical looking shirts, or maybe dresses, spilled out onto the roadway, their arms reaching toward nothingness. Dark smoke could also be seen rising from several spots ahead. Scott began to wonder if his cottage would even still be there. The trio said little in the final miles into Harris Springs.

  Mercifully, the town looked much as it had. The trash was piling up, and various smells filled the air, but not all were bad, and some of them were very normal. Todd drove to his house and parked. He was getting his gear out when Kaylie came around the Jeep and hugged him. Scott stayed off to one side. Todd looked over the shoulder of the girl and smiled at Scott. Many words had occurred to Scott, but none came close to expressing his heartfelt gratitude at what Todd had done for him. In the end, they just smiled, shook hands, and embraced quickly. “Get the girl settled in, then let’s meet for lunch tomorrow at the bar,” Todd said.

  "Will do. Give Liz my best.”

  Scott and Kaylie headed for home. Unlocking the gate and pulling in, he was relieved that all seemed normal. As he pulled around the side of the cottage, though, there was something different: a blue and white portable toilet with a pipe leading to a freshly dug latrine stood in the back yard. “Bartos,” Scott laughed. A note on the front door said: Since you have no security, I let myself in, hope you don’t mind. BTW you are out of scotch. He didn't mind, especially because he was fairly sure he wasn’t out of scotch, or hadn’t been.

  Kaylie was excited to see the house where she had spent so much time in her young life. The electricity was still out but seemed to have come on at some point as the cottage was cooler than outside. Scott began unpacking the Jeep as Kaylie went back to the room she had always slept in on her visits. Once Scott had finished, he went back to check on her and found his niece sound asleep on the bed. He felt like doing the same; it had been an exhausting trip. He cleaned and oiled all the weapons that had been used and placed each in an appropriate location. His dad’s lessons were second nature to him no matter how many years had passed.

  It felt good to be back home. Really good, Scott thought. Even if it wasn’t completely safe, and they didn’t have everything they would need, it still just felt so good. He sat in the living room wishing he had a way to let Bobby know his daughter was okay. His mind began to drift again, thinking about all they had seen on the trip and to all the other things he needed to do now that he was back. His immediate needs included coming up with some way to draw water from the old well… He needed to check the food storage as more of the items in the refrigerator would need to be eaten… He needed to think of ways to put up a lot of food for the winter… He badly wanted a hot shower, but he knew that may never happen again. Finally, the jumble of thoughts in his head went quiet as he let sleep overtake him once again.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Day 14

  Waking early the next morning, Scott and Kaylie made a hearty breakfast of country ham, steaks, eggs and biscuits. Kaylie seemed in a relatively good mood despite all she had been through. Scott knew that it would take time for her to emotionally process leaving DJ behind, seeing the death and chaos of the outside world and—especially—being cut off from her mom and dad. She was tough, though, and he could see her already steeling herself for these new challenges. Scott also had to adjust to being responsible for someone else. He would no longer be making decisions just for himself.

  His plans for the day were to go out and get more fuel, either from the abandoned cars or even some of the empty vacation homes. He was unsure of how safe it was and if he should take Kaylie with him or leave her here. In the end, he decided it best to take her. He also wanted to see how she could handle a gun, but didn’t want them to be firing off shots and drawing attention to the house. She could also help stand guard.

  It was mid-morning before they headed out. The first cars they tried had already been emptied, so they ventured farther out. He decided to try the beach roads; these were less traveled, and the beautiful ocean view helped brighten their moods. Kaylie was staring out to sea when she asked, “Do you think Mom and Dad are okay?”

  Scott did not know and had been wondering the same thing. “I wish I knew Bubbles…I really do. Your dad is a survivor and was well prepared for this—far better than I was. I know he’s worried about you, and somehow we will come up with a way of letting them know that you’re safe.”

  She looked out at the glimmering water without comment.

  Scott pulled up and cut the engine. Swinging out of the Jeep, he walked to the edge of the road and looked at the beach. He saw the telltale marks in the sand from a sea turtle, most likely a loggerhead turtle. The endangered animal came in at night to lay eggs, then make its way back to the ocean, never knowing the fate of its young. Kaylie was now looking where her uncle was. “In about two months there’ll be a flock of baby turtles trying to get to the water. Every bird, crab and fish in the area will be trying to make sure they stop them. I’ve heard only one in a thousand reach adulthood,” Scott said. They each silently contemplated the irony, knowing what all human creatures now faced.

  They only got a few gallons out of the next car, and Scott was beginning to feel frustrated. He was keenly aware that he was using more gas than he was collecting. Deciding on a change of tactics, he pulled into the private drive of an empty house he had once spotted on a bike ride. The vacation home was on an isolated road that circled a small cove. Only a few homes were on the drive. Much of its front was glass and faced out over the cove. What Scott had noticed when he scouted the place was the enclosed first floor. Most of the beach homes were on stilts or pilings for flood protection, so the second floor was normally the first occupied floor. The bottom area would be used for storage, garage space or just left open. This one seemed to have multiple garage doors all opening to the backside. The houses on this drive were all difficult to see from the beach road, even from his bike. Scott had ridden by them several times before noticing them. The developer had been particularly clever in hiding this beautiful structure in relative obscurity. The privacy had to be expensive.

  He parked the Jeep on the side of the house and stepped out with his new H&K Sub Compact slung on his back. Kaylie stayed in the Jeep while he made sure no one was inside. After checking first through the wall of windows and then around the perimeter, he signaled Kaylie to join him. “What now?�
� she asked.

  “We wait a few minutes and listen. I’d like to know if anyone is in any of these houses.”

  No doubt the last of the summer guests had long since left. After ten minutes and no signs of life, he went to the back and tried the garage doors. All three were securely locked. All of the entry doors and windows were similarly secure. Kaylie was rapping a knuckle on the thick glass wall. Yes, he could break that, although not without some real effort… that was damage he couldn’t allow himself to do to such a beautiful home.

  Ultimately, it was Kaylie who found the solution. “Uncle Scott….if this is a vacation home, wouldn’t they probably leave a spare key somewhere for guests, like we used to do at the cottage? I mean, I know you are like…a genius and all, but ‘ya think maybe?” She was right, of course. You never knew who might be coming down for a quick visit, and getting a key to everyone in time was a bitch. Nodding, they began to search. The small but well-manicured yard had a few noticeable possibilities: the small rock-lined planting bed, birdbaths, the flagstone walkways.

  Scott began to scour the drive and yard. Perhaps the key was under one of the rocks, or in the birdhouse. Kaylie scoured the teakwood deck by the main door, first under the door mat, then along the top of the door frame. Finally, she noticed the expensive barbecue grill. Opening the lid, she saw nothing. She knelt down and noticed a magnetic key holder barely visible underneath the grill. Holding up the find she yelled to her uncle, "Girls win!” He smiled up at her as she pumped her fist.

  The house was immaculate, although there was a strong smell of rotting food. Scott had Kaylie begin searching for food and supplies while he went down to the lower garages. Entering the large space, he immediately saw two jet skis on trailers. Hopefully, that meant gas was also nearby. Being a vacation home, there was little in the way of tools or many other common items you would find in most garages. The whole space was clean and seemed mostly filled with beach gear: chairs, umbrellas, kids’ toys. Scott felt uncomfortable rummaging through someone else’s stuff. He kept thinking of possible excuses he could offer should the owners drive up, or if a policeman knocked on the door. He laughed quietly to himself at the absurdity. In an isolated storage room, Scott finally found several marine fuel containers full of gas. Hearing a small shout from upstairs and then a giggle, Scott realized Kaylie must have scored something good.

  He carried the fuel out to the Jeep while Kaylie came out carrying boxes and bags of food. He could see cereal and cookies stored in large plastic bags. He went back and scouted the rest of the garage, finding nothing useful other than a large machete and an adult wetsuit, both of which he carried to the Jeep. He made a full final sweep of the house and borrowed several pairs of high-quality boots that were in his size. He wasn’t sure how long what he had would last. Better shop now, he reasoned.

  They locked the house back up and got back in the Jeep. While he was pleased with the plunder, Scott did not feel the trip had been a true success so far; they were supposed to be finding gas. He decided to check the other two homes as well. In the second, there was no fuel or food and few residual signs of life. There was an expensive stereo that, had the power been on, would have been an exorbitant addition to anyone’s possessions, but as things were now, it was worthless. Kaylie found some jackets and clothes which she bagged. Scott thought she was getting into this game.

  The third house looked to be the least promising. It was a little less opulent compared to the others, and a little more worn. It was up on a small rise and so was not elevated. The door lock was easily bypassed with a now useless credit card. Entering, Scott found the home was sparse but appealing. He noticed that what was there was all of top quality: Viking ranges, Sub-Zero appliances, even a very expensive Italian-made espresso machine. Sadly, none of this would do them any good. When he got to the garage, though, that changed. He first found several large and completely full fuel containers. Opening a small door at the rear of the space, Scott nearly fell to his knees;a large Kohler dual-fuel backup generator sat against the far wall. These were well-built machines and relatively quiet. He got his multi-tool out and began loosening the retaining bracket that secured it.

  As he struggled to load the heavy generator, he realized it was much less useful now than he would have thought just a few days earlier. To operate it would require fuel, of which there was very little. What fuel there was now would be precious and probably more valuable than gold. However, the find would help keep the freezer going long enough to eat what was left, and would hopefully work for the well pump, assuming they could keep finding more fuel to keep it going.

  He went back to the storage room as something else had caught his eye. Scott followed what looked to be an auxiliary fuel feed line from the generator through a conduit to the yard. Outside, he walked to the rear of the house and found that the line led to a large fuel storage tank mounted several yards from the rear wall. Scott tapped on the tank, then took off the cap and dipped his fingers in and smelled it. Not very scientific, but it’s not as fresh as the stuff in the stalled cars. It smelled okay but could probably benefit from some stabilizer. He decided to fill the Jeep with what he had found in the tanks and then refill the containers from the large external tank. Even doing so, Scott figured there were at least thirty-five gallons left in the tank, so he made a mental note of the address, so he could return later. Kaylie had found several sealed bags of unground coffee and a manual grinder in the kitchen, so those made it into the Jeep as well. Feeling much better about the morning’s finds, they left the tidy little community mostly intact. Back on the main road, they headed into town to meet the guys and hopefully have lunch.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  At first glance, Castro’s Sports Bar appeared closed as Scott pulled the overloaded Jeep to the curb. Getting out, though, he smelled food and noticed several people inside, one of which was unmistakably Jack. Walking in, they were greeted by a mixture of odors.

  “Preacher,” Scott said with a grin.

  Jack smiled. “I assume this is Kaylie. It’s a true pleasure to meet you, dear,” Jack said in his deep, rich voice.

  “Have you seen the others?” Scott asked.

  Looking away, Jack said, “Let's get you guys a drink and something to eat, then we can talk. They’re no longer taking cash, but if you have anything to trade, they’ll serve you,” Jack said as he leaned over the bar.

  “We have goods to trade,” Kaylie answered quickly. “We found coffee.” The preacher’s eyes lit up.

  “Shhh now, keep that information quiet. Coffee is running low for most folks, and that’s a highly prized commodity. Just canned goods or a little bit of fuel is plenty for lunch,” he said, grabbing another beer for himself from behind the bar.

  The owner stepped over. “Are y’eatin’ or drinkin’?” he asked gruffly.

  “Both,” smiled Scott as he and Kaylie shared an amused glance.

  The owner nodded. “We can settle up later, I know y’oure good f’rit.”

  “No menus anymore—he just serves you what he has,” Jack chimed in as the man turned back to the kitchen. "Get a couple of drinks and let’s sit.”

  Scott rummaged in the chill box by the bar and found a beer. He sat down and poured water from a pitcher for Kaylie, who promptly took his beer. “Hey, young lady.”

  She laughed, “I’m not a child anymore, Pops. I like a good beer after a day of ‘lootin and ‘stealin just as much as the next guy.” Scott was going to have to adjust to this new grown up woman that was his niece. Smiling, he shook his head, then went and fetched himself another beer.

  “I heard about the trip to Tallahassee. It sounded pretty rough,” Jack said. Scott looked around the nearly empty dining area and nodded. Preacher Jack put his hand on Scott’s arm, “You did what was needed, you did what was right, now let it go."

  Scott’s eyes began to water, but he fought the urge back. “Where is…” Scott started, but Jack held up a hand.

  “Todd isn’t going to make
it today. His wife, Liz, is…” Jack was interrupted by a familiar face bringing steaming plates to the table.

  “Bartos! Hey, man!” Bartos smiled and set the plates down.

  “I was just showing the guys back there how to grill gator. When I saw it was you, I made these plates myself. Bartos’ own grilled gator etouffée,” he announced. The food looked great and smelled even better. Scott was curious if Kaylie would turn up her nose, but her fork was already digging into the rice and meat. “

  So, was it your recipe or your gator?” Scott asked.

  “Both,” came the quick response.

  “By the way, Kaylie, this is Bartos.”

  She smiled, mouth full. “This is delicious, thank you!”

  Sitting down, Bartos looked at Jack, “Did you tell them about Liz?”

  Shaking his head, Jack said quietly, “No, not yet.”

  Scott put his fork down mid-bite and looked at both men. "What? What’s wrong, what happened to Liz?”

  “She’s sick,” the preacher said. “Real sick. She has been for a long time.”

  “Todd never mentioned that—she seemed fine the other night,” Scott blurted, shocked.

  “Neither of them ever mention it, Scott. They’re private people,” Jack said. "The illness has a long name, but the result is chronic kidney failure, she’s required regular treatments at the hospital for years. Around six months ago her only remaining kidney started failing, and she had to start dialysis.”

  “So, what happened?” Scott asked feeling even worse now. Jack looked over at his Cajun friend.