"Get dinner." He heard a cough. "You wait," said a distant voice from out of the midst of the black smoke.
The voice stopped, but John could still hear coughs. He walked into the smoke fifty feet, but still couldn't see Cho or anything else. He put a handkerchief over his mouth, but it didn't help. He began to cough. "Cho, where are you? Come back. You'll get lost. Follow my voice. I'm having trouble breathing." He covered his mouth and nose with his handkerchief. All he could hear were coughs as he slowly backed out of the smoke while coughing, himself. A minute later, he could hear rustling in the brush. "Cho, come out of the smoke. Follow my voice. Come back. Are you crazy?"
Cho came back out of the cloud of smoke coughing and hacking, holding a rope in one hand. Another minute later, a cow plodded out of the smoke behind her with the other end of the rope around it's neck.
"That is one sad looking cow. She's all skin and bones. They didn't feed her. We might be able to use the leather. We could learn to make shoes."
"Was tied to tree. Hard to untie rope. Hard knot. Crazy people. Not tie cow to tree. Cow not eat. Let graze. House not far. Burned. Not look at cow now. Look at cow after one month, maybe two. Cow get fat. We eat good. Marceau make great dinners for many weeks. We safe. Horses taste funny, even in China. Cow much better. John right about that."
"What do you mean, 'even in China. I'm right about that?' Did you feed me horse meat in China? I thought you were just a bad cook."
"Cho good cook. John have bad tastes."
John half-laughed and half-coughed. "Yeah, I didn't want to eat the horses, but we didn't have any choice. I was surprised that so many animals died and were not resistant to the plague. But, they are probably like humans. Some were resistant, like two of our horses. Maybe you should tie her up and we could go look for another."
"No, cow in hand worth two in bush. Old Chinese saying. Cho take cow back to lodge, now. Put in pasture, get fat. We come back and look for more, after."
John nodded in agreement. "OK, I can't argue with you when you use old English sayings against me, even though you changed it. It's supposed to be a bird in the bush."
"Not English. Chinese. Not bird. Why want bird in hand? Hand get dirty. Cow in hand worth two in bush. Every child know this. We go."
"I think the wind has shifted." He put the binoculars to his eyes and surveyed the fire. "I'll radio the lodge that they're in the clear."
As they arrived at the lodge, George was watching with a big smile. "It's not a herd, pardner, but it's a start. And it's not much of a cow, but it's a start."
"Round-up will be a lot easier with only one. Shouldn't take more than a day or two."
"More easy after cow get fat and slow."
"You want to join me and we'll go back to see if we can find another. The fire is pushing animals this way."
"I go too."
John placed his hands on Cho's shoulders. "No you don't. You had a bad dose of that smoke. You should stay here and recover. I thought you were going to pass out. I thought I was going to pass out. For a while I thought you were dead. Don't do that to me, again. Understand!"
"John get tears in eyes. Too much smoke, maybe. John stay here and get smoke out of system."
"I don't think so," said George.
"No matter. I go. John no see cow. If only John, we no get cow. Need Cho eyes to find cow. I go. I find more cows. Get cows from bush." Cho stopped talking and began to cough.
"I told you that smoke had a bad effect on you."
She stood upright and held steadfast. "Cho OK. Ready to go. John ready?"
"What do you say, John? What bush? Did you see some other cows trapped in the bushes?"
"It's a long story. It doesn't matter. She won't listen to me. Grab a rifle and plenty of rope. I'll be in the kitchen. I missed breakfast and it's time for lunch."
At sunset, Cho, John and George returned with two more cows and one bull.
"Looks like we have the makings of a fine herd, George. You'll be able to do your roundup after all."
"It would take twenty years to make a herd. I don't think Cho will be able to wait that long for her steak dinner. Maybe tomorrow, we can go out into that region and see if we can find some smaller animals. Turkey, maybe. From now on, whenever we see a fire, we go investigate."
John looked at Cho, who was still coughing. "And next time we take some kind of mask and we stay out of the smoke. Right."
"Sure, good plan," she said before coughing again.
"You go talk to Pierre. Now."
"Sure. OK. No problem," she said, walking toward Pierre's cabin coughing.
* * *
"What's up, George? Taking in the evening air? Still getting the smoke out of your lungs or just sitting on the porch thinking of better times."
What John said to George was exactly what he was thinking. His lungs still burned and he was worried about Cho.
"None of the above. Police scanner. It came from Radio Shack back on Panic Day. I turn it on from time to time, but never hear anything. Kinda spooky. Scary even. At the time of the panic, you could hear a thousand signals. No jokin'. Even more. Tens of thousands. Everywhere on every frequency somebody was transmitting something. Most of it, I couldn't understand. But, tens of thousands of people were communicating. Now nothing. Tens of thousands of voices are silent. Reminds me a bit of Star Wars when they blew up that planet. But last night, around this time, I heard somebody. I almost cried. Got all choked up. John, somebody else is out there. Somebody who isn't trying to kill us."
John could easily hear the excitement in George's voice. He even felt some excitement himself. "Really? What did they say?"
"A radio amateur with solar panels has made contact with some others and broadcasts his own news show. I thought maybe reception might be better out here on the porch. It's a little better elevation than my cabin over the hill."
"When does he come on?" John, too, was excited, and wondered why George hadn't said anything before now.
"About ten minutes, if he's consistent."
"Great. I'll see if anybody else wants to listen."
Ten minutes later, the group was assembled on the porch. Marceau brought out a couple bottles of wine and glasses for everyone.
"I guess," said George. "We'll enjoy this one way or another. No matter how bad it is. Thanks Marceau, it should be soon."
After five minutes of waiting, the radio came to life.
"Sorry for the delay folks, I just received some info from across the country. For those who haven't tuned in before, I make this short to communicate to the most people with the least power. Here goes the summary. Latest news is at the end.
"Over ninety-nine percent of the population of the US is dead. The number may be higher as the old and the young have been particularly hard hit, not just by the virus and the diseases, but by hunger and starvation. And, nobody is doing a census. Major cities are uninhabitable, most were burned, and the death toll is higher there, nearly one hundred percent of those who stayed. The cities that didn't burn have bodies in the streets. Some jumped off the roofs, others lay where they fell and died. Disease is rampant. Don't go to any city, big or small. All stores in cities were ransacked within days of the beginning of the panic. There's nothing there you want in the cities and plenty of diseases that you don't. Major distribution centers were cleared out within a few days, even the ones in rural areas. Bottom line, now, you're on your own.
"Now, for recent news, two days ago, the spy satellites showed troops amassing on the Mexican side of the border. The virus was targeted by the Chinese to affect Caucasian-Americans and the death toll in Mexico is only around eighty percent. Cruise missiles were launched from ships at sea and submarines where the virus has not struck due to the isolation of the vessels. The major cities of Mexico and all border towns were hit with multiple strikes. Likewise, planes from aircraft carriers were launched and dropped bombs from high altitude on all remaining targets. Several South American countries have not suffered as seve
rely and some sources say our military is considering further strikes should those militaries make threatening moves.
"And for my final item tonight, apparently, many in the military, CIA, White House and Congress are safe in bunkers waiting for the virus to run itself out. Sources say that the President tonight had filet mignon, small red potatoes, carrots and a nice California wine. Those same sources say they will stay in the bunkers for six months to a year, depending on how long the virus lives on solid surfaces and how long it is before that great California wine runs out. Some viruses can live for years and others for only a day or two. Viruses on soft surfaces only last a few days. On hard surfaces, they can act like crystals and last many years. Time will tell.
"The question is, who will the government send out from the bunker first? To test the water and pick up some more potatoes. I say it's someone from the IRS. I know from personal experience that when bears come out of hibernation, they are seriously hungry -- insatiable. So, if you have three cows, don't bother branding them because when the IRS shows up, you'll lose at least one and maybe all three. With around three million people in the military and with ninety-five percent mortality, that means one hundred-fifty thousand in the military will survive to backup the IRS. Plus all those on ships and submarines. Also, three guys are in a space station spinning around the Earth. Hate to be them. Can't stay up there forever. Can't come down soon. So keep good records. Those ten-forties will be due at the usual time and the usual place.
"The good news of course is that before the plague, America had between two hundred and two hundred seventy million guns in private hands with more in museums and collections. With only twenty million people left, that works out to ten or more guns each. And of course, guns and bullets are immune to the plague and will last for decades, if you keep 'em dry. So, keep 'em dry.
"Peace and tranquility, neighbors. Tomorrow, same time, same place."
A stunned look was on everyone's face, but it was John who spoke first. "George, was he joking?"
"I don't know if he was joking, but he was depressing. I hadn't thought about that. I had heard about those bunkers under the White House, under Congress and in the mountains out west. Remember those, Fred?"
"Not just under the White House," said Fred. "Six stories under the White House and able to withstand a nuclear blast. I heard the White House is connected to a private subway system that goes to the Pentagon and to CIA headquarters. If you've ever been to Washington, you know that's a big system with miles and miles of tracks and more bunkers than you can count."
Forget about it George, it's too late to find a good seat in the bunker. But, he does make a good point. The government takes care of itself …"
"With our tax money. Reminds me a bit of Robin Hood and the Sheriff of Nottingham. The Sheriff had lavish parties in the castle and sent out his goons to collect taxes from the poor to fund those parties and pay those goons," said George.
"I thought that just getting by was good enough," John said. "Just staying alive was all that mattered. Seems like we could use some government downsizing. If ninety-nine percent of the people are gone, we only would need one Senator and four representatives. Maybe even a few less than that."
"Sounds like we need to get our herd goin' or else we won't have anything to give the Sheriff."
* * *
"What's on the agenda today, John."
It was a good day. Any day without raiders or enemies was a good day. The group was relaxing at the table after dinner.
"Well, Fred. I was thinking about a trip to the winery. I've been twice in the last week and I believe the grapes are ready. Are you up for it?"
Fred nodded, but John gave him no time to answer before he continued, "I have a new plan. A simpler plan. We grab as many grapes as we can and head back. We make the wine here. We bought yeast and the chemicals before the panic hit. If we can find some tanks that would fit in the van, that would be even better. We take the van, the Defender and one motorcycle. Some tools. What do you say?"
"Who goes? Me, you, who else?"
"Marceau probably knows something about grapes." John winked at Marceau.
"I have seen a few."
"And Cho is good in the garden." He cast his eyes toward Cho.
"You need grape picker. That what you say?"
"How about you Abby?"
"Sure, I've picked a few."
"And Mary. You ever pick grapes?"
"No, but it doesn't sound difficult."
"Great, one of us can stand guard and the rest pick. We can take turns standing guard."
"Can I go?" said Harry. "I like to see the sights and I've never picked grapes."
"Sure, why not."
The standard convoy of one motorcycle, the van, and the Dark Demon traveled half an hour after sunset while just enough light was available to see the road without headlights. The winery was about twenty miles away and they drove at around thirty miles per hour to minimize fuel consumption.
After they had all arrived, John led them to the vineyard.
"We pick grapes at night?" Cho said, stopping to cough. "Not so easy."
"Have you talked to Pierre, like I said?"
"Yes. Pierre give injection and pills." Cho pulled a small bottle from her pocket and waved it in front of John's face. "Cho take care of self. Somebody need to take care of John. No problem."
"We still have half an hour of light, maybe more. I brought some lanterns. Place them on the ground."
"I have a light I can wear on my head. It might be better, John," said Fred.
"May not be a good idea, if we have a sniper."
"Hadn't thought of that."
After two hours of picking grapes, the van was half full and the sunlight had faded. They decided to sleep in the winery and wait until morning to finish. At first light, they would go back to picking grapes. Marceau found several wine barrels and one stainless steel fifty gallon tank in the winery. It would be necessary to come back for the barrels later if they picked a lot of grapes.
John was awakened by Fred at around four o'clock. "I hear something. A person or an animal outside. I can't tell."
"OK, we'll check it out." John shook Cho and whispered, "Noise outside."
She grabbed her pistol from the holster strapped to her leg and slowly arose. "Where?"
"Don't know. I'll open the door, you cover me." John stepped cautiously up against the wall to the right of the door and reached over carefully with his left hand and turned the lock and twisted the knob. He slowly opened the door a crack and waited.
"I hear. Not far."
"I hear it too," whispered Harry, walking into the room from the back room where he and Mary had been sleeping. Mary followed, looking sleepy. Harry ran up to the big window and looked out. "I hear footsteps. I see a shadow."
A gunshot shattered the window and Harry fell back onto the floor. The second shot hit Mary and she jumped aside. "Harry. Are you OK? Can you hear me?"
John put his left hand and gun through the narrow slit of the barely opened door, pointed to the right, blindly toward the direction of the window and began firing. Cho fired back through the window as Marceau tried to help Harry and Mary. After the third shot, Fred ripped open the door and flew through the doorway firing as fast as he could with his right hand while holding a flashlight in his left. He heard a scream and ran in that direction still shooting. John followed as did Cho all pointing flashlights around.
"Here," said Fred. "Male, thirty to forty. Dead. Douse the lights and I'll look around."
Five minutes later, Fred returned. "I found a motorcycle about a quarter mile away. No sign of any bags or bins to carry grapes. Maybe he just stopped in for breakfast, saw Harry through the window and decided to eliminate his competition. He came from the other side, so I don't think he saw our vehicles. Probably would have left if he did. How's Harry?"
"Mon Dieu, he is dead," she said, crossing herself. "I wish Pierre were here. He might have saved Harry. Poor thing."
>
"What about you, Mary," said John.
"My leg. I can walk."
"You did all you could do, Marceau. I shouldn't have let Harry come on this trip," said John.
"I didn't see anyone else. What do we do now, John? Leave or keep picking grapes?"
"Both, Fred. Nothing will be served by stopping our picking now. I'll take Mary and Harry back to the lodge and have Pierre take a look at her. Then, I'll come back. You and I will both stand watch while Marceau and Cho pick a few more gallons of grapes. Then, before sunrise, we'll go."
John arrived back just as the light was beginning to replace the darkness. He brought Charles to help stand guard while the grapes were picked. The van was nearly full of bins and boxes of grapes.
"High price for a glass of wine. Right?"
"Yeah, Charles. This wine idea is beginning to sound like a bad idea. I got complacent. Sloppy. Someone should have stood guard outside all night. I can't afford any more mistakes like this."
"What about the motorcycle."
"I'll take it. Cho, you drive the Dark Defender with Marceau. Charles, you drive the van and take Abby. Fred, you take point, then the van, the Defender and I'll bring up the rear. I really feel bad. Harry didn't deserve this."
"None of us deserved any of it," said Marceau, crying, her face wet with tears. "But if it were not for you, we all would be dead by now, even Harry. Poor Harry. He was a real man."
John looked at Charles and raised his eyebrows. Charles looked at Cho. Cho nodded her head, then coughed.
* * *
Harry's funeral was simple. Everyone wore their best clothes. Charles and Fred dug the grave in the clearing on top of a hill, two miles from the lodge, next to his sister Elspeth. It had a great view. Fred made a nice coffin from an oak tree he had cut down. John said a few words about what a nice guy Harry was. Masako cried. Marceau cried. Cho dabbed at her eyes. John dabbed at his eyes and finally stood up again and said, "I'm sorry. I have to say it. He volunteered. I didn't ask him to go. I thought about telling him it was too dangerous. But, I knew what he would say. He would say, he didn't care. He would say he didn't have enough time to live before the world died. And I knew I wouldn't be able to argue with him. None of us is sure we will be here in a week or a month. Harry knew that. I wish he were wrong, but he wasn't. Harry you were a great guy. I'm sorry." John broke down, dropped to his knees and sobbed.
The Weak Shall Die: Complete Collection (Four Volume Set) Page 56
