“ROCKET!” Ava screamed, ducking down in her seat and covering her head.
CHAPTER 9
“Let’s go shopping!” Claire said as the group lounged on the general store’s front porch one warm April evening.
No one said anything, and I turned to give her a look as if to say, “What are you talking about?”
“I’m serious,” she went on. “All of us girls should go shopping tomorrow. I’m dying in these heavier clothes. We haven’t got anything to wear to keep us cool in the summer and it’s starting to get damn hot here. I’m not going to wear jeans and sweatshirts when it’s eventually 95 degrees and sunny out.”
“She makes a good point,” said Pam, rubbing her gradually-growing belly gently where her baby bump was now starting to show through her long-sleeved shirt. “I don’t have anything in terms of maternity clothes, and I’d like to be as comfortable as possible this summer with the heat coming on like it is.”
“It’s actually a great idea,” Claire’s mother Emily said after considering it. “I’m up for it!”
“Me too,” agreed Joanna. “And Shane needs summer clothes too.”
“We could shop for everyone’s summer wardrobe,” Claire said excitedly. “We’ll make a day of it at Mary’s resale shop….cocktails before we go, and then shopping.”
“Then, lunch back here prepared and served by the men,” I offered. “That is, if you all aren’t too busy?” I said, looking around at the rest of the guys.
“Ooh,” the girl’s cooed.
“Sounds delightful,” said Emily.
“I never pass up a free meal that I don’t have to make,” said Pam.
“Then it’s a plan,” said Claire. “We’ll meet here at say…eleven tomorrow morning?” she asked the other ladies.
They all agreed that eleven would work.
And so it was a date.
Claire’s spur-of-the-moment idea actually ended up being a wonderful time for all involved. The next day broke bright and beautiful and stayed that way. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and the high temperature for the day touched 80 degrees according to the old thermometer nailed to the storefront.
The gals – with exception of Pam – each had pumpkin-spice ale before they left for the resale shop, giving them a nice “shopping buzz” as Emily termed it. Pam’s beer was set aside for after her pregnancy, giving her something to looking forward to. Ray said that her share of booze collected by the time she gave birth would serve as her eventual “push” present.
After their beers, the girls all headed over to Mary’s, taking young Sarah with them, where they spent almost two hours sorting through the variety of clothing left inside the resale shop.
As soon as the ladies left, the men got to work. Ray and I drove the pickup and trailer to a nearby home, bringing back a big picnic table we’d seen behind the house. We drove it back, unloaded it, and hauled it up onto the store’s front porch. Then I left Ray with Will and Shane to get the table set and ready. Paul offered to watch Jason while we worked, and I let him. They stayed inside the store’s first floor area, zooming around playing tag or pushing toy cars upon chalk-drawn outlines of racetracks on the old wood-plank flooring.
Meanwhile, Dad and I worked in the kitchen. I had laid out our menu the night before and was ready to start work as soon as the girls were gone. I got the gas grill fired up and had left water on to boil while we’d gone to pick up the picnic table. I also got much of my dessert – an apple crisp – ready ahead of time since the apples were already cooked and canned – one of the last vestiges from Wilma’s food stocks brought along from the farm. I used granola cereal drizzled in honey as my “crisp” topping, and since we didn’t have ice cream or whipped cream, I made a powdered milk and honey glaze and left it in a pitcher from which the gals could drizzle it over their dessert as desired.
Dad worked on the hors d’oeuvres and appetizer. The hors d’oeuvres included a mixture of olives, pickles, and little canapé-like items that Dad created using potato chips, and toppings formed from the various condiments, spices, olives, and relish we’d found at Mary’s diner.
Our appetizer was simple but soothing. We served grits lightly topped with maple syrup.
My main course was a pasta dish with a sauce created from a can of stewed tomatoes and seasonings also from Mary’s.
The women came back with bags loaded full of shorts, t-shirts, shoes, and more. Some clothing was more suitable for fall wear, but it could be converted to fit the rising summer temperatures with a few scissor snips.
The men nearly fell over when they saw Joanna. We’d never seen her bare skinned before. I mean, we could tell she had a great body hidden somewhere below all that winter clothing, but I don’t think any of us knew just how great until we caught a glimpse of her returning from the shopping extravaganza sporting some of her new attire. She was wearing a button-up, orange and white plaid shirt from which she’d removed the sleeves. Her petite jean shorts hugged every curve and melted away into creamy white thighs and the sort of long, smooth, yet muscular and quite shapely legs every man dreams of and that only stopped when they met the cute little Converse tennis shoes she wore with no socks.
I had to wonder if she was doing it just to torture me, and I did my best not to stare.
In sharp, and somewhat libido-crushing contrast, Claire came back sporting a too-big Georgia Tech t-shirt, baggy “mom” shorts, and unflattering black sandals. I found it kind of cute in a way that only a husband could; still, I couldn’t help but wish she’d followed Joanna’s lead during their wardrobe selection.
But I wasn’t about to mention my disappointment.
After our lovely shoppers settled around the picnic table under the shade of the store’s covered porch, we sent Shane and Paul out with the trays of hors d’oeuvres. The girls were immediately smitten with their tiny waiters and “oohed” and “aahed” over the spread set before them.
Will and his wounded rear helped watch Jason since he was having trouble serving and walking at the same time. Meanwhile, Dad and Ray followed behind our miniature wait staff with cold beer in real glasses that we’d brought down from the upstairs apartment’s refrigerator. I mentioned to Ray that it would probably be fine for Pam to have a small glass just to tingle her taste buds. But with it being his first child, and knowing the birth would likely have to take place without a doctor present, he and Pam were being extra cautious. I couldn’t say I blamed him. Claire and I had been much the same way with Jason. Instead, Ray mixed her a special glass of chocolate milk from the powdered milk and chocolate syrup we had on hand from Mary’s.
Dad, Ray and I served the appetizer and main course, while Paul and Shane acted as bussers, removing finished dishes and going to retrieve more beer for those who wanted it. For dessert, we let the boys take a break from their work and join in the delicious apple treat.
It was a fabulous feast, and the women relished the attention that was lavished upon them. It’d been too long since they’d had time to relax and indulge in some pampering. It also made us men feel good again to be able to provide our women with some level of comfort and spoil them just a little bit. I think that more than anything, it was the feeling of a slight return to normalcy that made us feel the best of all.
After the women were finished, the men sat down to eat and have a beer themselves, the boys enjoying a soda as their payment for a job well done.
Later, we all lounged contentedly on the front porch, basking in the late-afternoon warmth, watching the kids play in the empty street, and enjoying a day that would live on in all our memories.
* * *
“Moo doggy!” I heard Jason yell outside. “Big, big moo doggy!” he kept on.
Claire and I were inside the store sweeping the first floor’s play area free from dust and debris the kids had tracked in during their last play session.
Jason had been playing out front in the street with Paul, Sarah, and Shane.
Moments later, I could hear th
e sound of Paul’s voice from the street yell, “Holy crap!”
I looked at Claire just as Jason yanked the screen door open, stepped inside, and let the door bang violently shut behind him – something we’d asked him to refrain from doing more times than we cared to count.
“Biiiiig moo doggy!” he drawled, pointing behind him toward the front door, his eyes wide with excitement.
Claire and I leaned our brooms against the store’s front counter and followed him back outside.
The rest of the kids had stopped their play and moved aside, watching a single lowly cow amble slowly down the center of Main Street.
“Paul,” I whispered softly, not wanting to scare the cow, “go grab some of the rope you use to make your squirrel traps.”
He hustled off as we continued to watch the cow saunter along. It would wander a few steps, stop, stare at something, or just look at the ground, then walk on a bit further.
Eventually, it noticed a few clumps of grass in an empty lot just passed Mary’s where it stopped for a bite to eat.
It was there that I wrangled the beast. Maybe “wrangled” was a strong word. Carefully slipped the noosed rope that Paul brought for me over its head was a better description of what actually happened. And she wasn’t quite a “beast” either. In fact, she was more of a dopey-eyed sweetheart that passively allowed me to lead her over to the front of our store where I gently tethered her to the porch railing.
“Now what?” Claire said, looking at me, hands on her hips.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. We can milk her I guess.”
“You ever milked a cow before, farmer Pete?” she asked.
“No,” I said, bending to look at the udders hanging from beneath the cow. “Can’t be too hard though…can it?”
“I have no idea,” Claire shook her head.
“What the hell is that?” Pam said, making her way from inside the store. Ray, Dad, and Sharron were behind her.
“Cow,” I said proudly. “Milk maker for your future baby,” I nodded to Pam and Ray.
“You ever milked a cow?” asked Ray.
“No,” I said again, starting to take offense to everyone seeming to think that I couldn’t handle such a task. “Can’t be too hard though.”
Of course I would come to find out later that my statements were false, as milking a cow was definitely harder than I thought, especially for a city boy like me.
“Wonder where it came from?” Dad pondered.
“Probably escaped from some farm after the flu hit,” I said. “Likely ate all the available feed that was in her barn or stable or wherever they kept her and then escaped in search of more. I bet she’s just been wandering from place to place eating at will. She certainly doesn’t look malnourished. I’m kind of surprised that wild animals haven’t gotten her by now.”
“Where are you going to keep it?” asked Sharron.
“I don’t know,” I said throwing my hands up in exasperation. “The damn thing just got here. I thought you all would be happy. You seem like it’s going to be some sort of great burden.”
Turned out, the arrival of our dear bovine friend was a burden; much more of a burden than I’d ever dreamed. It wasn’t the fault of old Bessie – that’s what we named her – it was just her nature as a cow. But I was surprised to discover just how much a cow needed to eat, and more importantly, drink. Food wasn’t so much a problem. There was enough grass in the surrounding area for Bessy to munch on. Each day, I had Paul tether her in one of the nearby yards as he went off on his squirrel hunting trip. At night, we’d hide her in one of the garages closest to us so that she could sleep safely away from the dangers of roaming coyotes or packs of wild dogs.
The real problem that soon presented itself was that Bessie ended up out-drinking the entire group, and we quickly found ourselves having to make a trip every couple days to the pond several miles away just to keep her supplied with water. And while I was eventually able to learn how to milk her, what she consumed in water fast became more of a liability than the asset of fresh milk she provided.
After nearly a week, we realized that we were expending more time, energy and resources on keeping Bessie watered and fed than on many of the more crucial aspects of our survival. And with still months to go before Pam gave birth, we debated whether we might be better off just cutting our losses with dear Bessie.
Paul offered the idea of tethering her out by the pond; but I shot the idea down due to the possibility of wild animals getting to her, and in such an event, we would have wasted a whole lot of good meat. Sharron didn’t like the idea either, and was in favor of just putting Bessie back on the road from whence she came, but I again thought that cruel punishment as it would only be a matter of time before wild animals – or other people – would get her once she was on her own again; plus, it’d be a waste of valuable resources. I said putting Bessie down for our own purposes was the best idea, but being the good vegetarian Sharron was, she raised a stink about it, so I put the idea on the back burner for a few more days.
What ended up finally forcing our hand on the issue was when Bessie got loose early one morning and Sharron found her in the garden. Sharron was the bovine’s last bastion of hope and salvation, but when Sharron realized that our pet cow had nibbled some of her burgeoning vegetables and trampled several others, Bessie’s best bet of seeing another day rapidly dwindled.
Since I had found her, learned how to milk her, and had become somewhat fond of the old girl, Ray offered to do the deed for me, which I appreciated. I guess he could tell that I’d been somewhat affected by having to put Jonah’s horse, Poobah, down back at the farm. But I declined his offer, manning up to do the deed myself.
And so, sweet Bessie met her sad demise. However, I had to admit, the thought of fresh burgers, juicy steaks, beef stew, and plenty of jerky made the loss of Bessie somewhat easier to bear.
To preserve the meat that we didn’t dry, we powered the upstairs refrigerator’s freezer just long enough to make a good amount of ice. Then we filled several coolers full of ice and meat and stored it down in the store’s relatively colder basement.
We’d repeated this ice-making process twice a week to ensure that the meat remained fresh.
Bessie’s beef was welcomed by everyone but Sharron of course, who cursed Bessie and the meat she’d given us, reminding us of what “that damned cow” had cost us in terms of lost crops.
I nodded and agreed with her, all the while enjoying mouthfuls of delicious Bessie, savoring each bite as I never had before.
CHAPTER 10
Jake, Ava, and Johnny Switchblade all ducked down in their seats, bracing for the impact of the incoming projectile. They held their breath and waited, having few illusions that their SUV’s light armor would hold against such destructive firepower. They had outfitted the SUV with some additional steel plating around its exterior to protect against gunfire but not against heavier caliber weapons and explosives.
As they crouched, waiting, they heard the rocket hiss toward, and then past them as the rocket went wide. There was a distant rumble as it exploded somewhere behind their SUV.
“They missed!” Jake yelled.
Ava sat up and looked outside. She saw the guy with the rocket launcher ducking down, apparently to reload.
“Let’s go!” Ava cried, scrambling into the backseat and grabbing her weapon from Jake before throwing herself into the cargo area of the SUV. Johnny Switchblade tumbled into the backseat with Jake behind him.
Just as Ava was getting ready to shoot the glass out of the SUV’s rear window to make their exit, the machine gunner who’d taken up position next to the guy with the rocket launcher opened up in force again. Bullets began thumping into the SUV and it lurched downward further as the other front tire was taken out. A hole was suddenly ripped through the armor plating across the windshield and bullets tore into the top of the driver’s seat.
The occupants inside threw themselves down as low as they could get as the immens
e firepower trapped them within the vehicle. Ava knew it would only be a few seconds before the next rocket arrived, and she feared it wouldn’t miss this time.
Suddenly the gunfire stopped.
Ava took the opportunity to raise herself just enough to aim her assault rifle at the SUV’s back window, turn her face away to protect it from flying glass, and squeeze off several rounds. She turned back to see holes in the glass, the glass itself crackled but unbroken. She spun herself around on her back and kicked the window into a thousand pieces that fell out onto the ground. Then she cleared the remaining glass away with the butt of her rifle. “Come on!” she yelled to the others as she slid out the back and dropped down onto the pavement.
She crouched and took a peek around the corner of the SUV toward where the guys manning the machinegun and rocket launcher had been. Neither one was immediately visible. Ava could see the machinegun propped upon a crate, but no one was behind it. Suddenly the guy with the rocket launcher popped up beside the machinegun, the launcher on his shoulder. She was staring straight down the center of the tube. Jake and Johnny Switchblade dropped down from the back of the SUV beside her.
“Incoming!” she cried, pulling her head back from around the SUV and laying flat on the ground. She knew the front of the SUV would bear the brunt of the impact and was more concerned about flying shrapnel or being crushed under flaming car parts or the SUV itself after the rocket’s impact. She felt a body fall atop hers. She thought it was Jake, but instead looked up into the face of Johnny Switchblade.
“Keep down!” he said firmly, doing his best to envelop her body in his for added protection. For some reason, Ava wasn’t surprised that it wasn’t Jake.
The Systemic Series - Box Set Page 67
