Smith's Monthly #6

by Smith, Dean Wesley

  It made her wonder what the residents of this home had been like. Clearly different than she and Hal. Their large apartment in a building in the downtown area was always awash with clutter of various types, mostly books. They were both just comfortable in that.

  She would not have been comfortable in this place. It felt sterile and even more dead than most homes she had been in, as if this home had been dead before the Big Death hit.

  “Anything?” she asked.

  Hal shook his head. “Nothing. Drawers in perfect order, but no bills, no letters, nothing. More than likely all that is in a study someplace from the looks of all this.”

  With Hal leading, they headed upstairs.

  The light was brighter upstairs as most of the back windows in the home had the blinds open. They all looked out over a lush backyard that had held a pool. Tammy had no doubt it had been beautiful in its day. And from the looks of the house, the lawn would have been mowed perfectly and the pool cleaned twice a week.

  At the top of the stairs a hallway led the length of the house. It had a number of closed doors. Tammy had a hunch behind one of those doors would be the body they knew was in here from the faint musty smell. The smell had a slight tang to it after five years, but it wasn’t a smell that was easy to miss.

  And now that they were upstairs, the smell was thick.

  And even though it was still fairly early, this upper area of the house was already heating up. Any body they did find would be well mummified in this kind of heat.

  A mummified body was a lot better as far as Tammy was concerned than a body torn up from animals. Not all animals had survived the electromagnetic pulse. Dogs and rats and mice had been killed, but cats had survived. And with a cat trapped in a home with a dead human, they ate the dead human when they got hungry enough.

  There were no signs this home had cats, so the body would be mummified and look moderately human even after five years.

  The first two doors were to small bedrooms with no occupants. They had been furnished with small single beds and just left. One room was painted pink, one blue.

  Clearly the rooms had been meant for future children that had not arrived yet.

  And now never would.

  The third door was to an empty bathroom and the next door was to a master bedroom and bath, also empty. The bed was made perfectly.

  There was nothing out of place in this entire house. Tammy found that amazing and very closed up and creepy.

  The next door on the other side of the hall was to a study with a big desk.

  “Got it,” Hal said, moving to the desk and file cabinet that would let them know who had lived here.

  There was one more door at the end of the hall and that meant it had the body in it.

  Tammy went to it and opened it slowly, making sure to not stir up any dust as she did so.

  The blinds were open in the room and it was a fairly large family room that also did not look used in any way. This room had a large-screen television, a number of couches, a game table, and plush carpet.

  It had been designed to be comfortable, but clearly not made comfortable.

  Everything again was in perfect position. Nothing was used. It was as if the people living in this house had just existed in it and never really lived in it.

  There was a door off the family room that was closed. More than likely that was where the body was. They had found many bodies, since they started this job, in various stages of bathroom routines.

  Hal came in behind her. “This is the home of Ben and Cathy Freeman. He worked at a pharmacy downtown and she was an RN.”

  Hal held up his digital pad. “We already recovered his body when they cleaned the downtown area.”

  “This place sure looks like they were planning for kids,” Tammy said. ‘Clearly didn’t get the chance.”

  Hal glanced around and nodded. Then he pointed to the door. “You want me to look and see who is in there?”

  “We both will,” she said.

  Slowly she opened the bathroom door to keep the dust from swirling while both of them shined their flashlights into the small bathroom.

  What she saw stunned her and took her a moment for her mind to wrap around.

  What had been a fairly attractive, thin, brown-haired woman lay in the bathtub face up. She had mummified, but she still looked pretty good, with her long brown hair fanned out on the back of the tub over her.

  And her face was calm in death. Very calm.

  What had really surprised Tammy was that the tub water when it evaporated had left an ugly brown stain.

  It took her a moment to see why. Both of the woman’s wrists that were crossed over her chest had been slashed.

  A razor blade lay on a napkin on the edge of the tub.

  “Now that’s a first,” Hal said beside Tammy in the bathroom door. “More than likely she cut her wrists right before the Big Death hit.”

  On the counter was a note card standing up with the name “Ben” on it.

  Tammy looked at it, then glanced at Hal. Clearly that was Cathy Freeman’s suicide note.

  Hal shrugged, meaning she could read it or not. Up to her.

  Tammy wasn’t sure if she wanted to read it, but at this point she felt she had no choice.

  She picked up the note and opened it. Then read it aloud as Hal held his flashlight so she could see.

  Dearest Ben,

  I am so sorry for the mess I have left you. I have tried to keep this clean and simple and plan this in a bathroom we seldom use.

  I am so sorry that I cannot bring the children into the world we so hoped to have. I could no longer look at the deadness in your eyes and the disappointment I felt every time we made love. My passing here will allow you to move on, to find a new wife, to be happy, and finally have and raise the children you so wanted.

  Please don’t be me mad at me, love. This is for the best. Remember me to your children when they are old enough to understand. Have a wonderful life.

  Love Always,

  Cath

  Tammy carefully replaced the suicide note on the counter.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Hal said, gently touching her elbow. “We got all we need from here.”

  Somehow Tammy nodded and turned and followed Hal out of the family room and down the hall past the future children’s bedrooms, then down the stairs and out into the hot air of the dead subdivision.

  Hal picked up his pack, stuck his rifle back in it, and led the way to the street.

  She pulled off her mask and tucked it in her pocket, letting the warm air work to clear her mind.

  They stopped in the middle of the street, both their backs to the house they had just been in.

  After a moment, Hal gently touched her arm. “You all right?”

  “Honestly,” she said, turning to look into his worried dark eyes. “I think I’m done for the day.”

  “I agree,” Hal said. “Too hot anyway. So what are you thinking?”

  She looked into the eyes of the man she loved, the man that had helped her survive more death than she ever wanted to think about. “I am thinking about a long cold shower in our air-conditioned apartment.”

  “We are on the same track with that,” Hal said, smiling.

  “Then maybe a few hours in bed making love to you.”

  At that, his eyebrows went up and he looked at her puzzled.

  “After all this death,” she said, sweeping her arm around to indicate the dead neighborhood, “don’t you think it’s time we bring some new life into the world?”

  He smiled bigger than she had remembered him smiling in a very long time. “I do. Very much.”

  She kissed him, then took his arm and together they headed up the hot street of the dead subdivision.

  A hot breeze twisted through the dead houses around them, and maybe, just maybe, if they had listened, they would have imagined they heard the faint laughter of the children.

  What Came Before…

  Nineteen-year-old
Boston native Jimmy Gray had been traveling with his parents and older brother, Luke, headed west to find a new home and new riches.

  Before even reaching Independence, they were attacked and robbed by Jake Benson and his gang. Jimmy’s parents were killed, his brother wounded.

  In one of the wildest towns in all of American history, Jimmy Gray, a sheltered, educated son of a banker from Boston suddenly finds himself very, very much alone.

  But then, through some luck, he finds other young men about his age and down on their luck who might be able to help him.

  Together, the five of them head west after Benson.

  They end up hunting buffalo as he always dreamed of doing, but then they are hit with a massive flash flood and Jimmy is left alone, his friends more than likely dead.

  They manage to get back together after days of searching, and continue on their journey west, picking up another member of their crew. There are now six of them, with Jimmy leading.

  THE LIFE AND TIMES OF BUFFALO JIMMY

  PART SIXTEEN

  THEY MAKE HARD PROGRESS

  THE VASTNESS OF THE WEST was overwhelming to Jimmy, not in a bad way, but with a feeling that kept generating excitement. Every day he marveled at one sight or another, from small things like the sight of an animal he had never seen to stunning rock formations.

  And the smells seemed to constantly change, from dry sagebrush to wetlands along the river.

  They had traveled through the fifth leg up the river to the ford of the North Fork of the Platte River, making a steady pace for seven days. The trail was much, much rougher, and the wagon companies were clearly having more trouble with the pull.

  They were doing fine, walking most of the time to rest the horses.

  In a couple places, the trail was a full day’s ride away from the river, so they had to watch their water more carefully.

  At Independence Rock, all of them carved their names on the rock, along with thousands of other names. Jimmy couldn’t believe so many people had gone past this place.

  This was a rough trip for even someone in as good of shape as he was. And it was clear that if his brother had tried to make even these early legs, it would have killed him.

  The seventh leg took them up to the top of the South Pass and over the Continental Divide. The air, the higher they climbed, got colder at nights, and twice over the four days up to the pass, it snowed on them during the night.

  They walked the horses even more, and moved shorter distances because none of them were used to the higher altitude. Jimmy found it amazing that all the mountains around them were still covered in white.

  He had never seen anything so beautiful in all his life. Pictures and paintings just didn’t do it justice in any fashion.

  And the smell of the pine in the crisp morning air just made his head spin in happiness.

  The main trail then angled north to Fort Hall , then back south to the split in the Oregon and California Trails forty miles to the south of Fort Hall.

  Fort Hall was small, with few salons or general stores. Considering that it was a major spot on the trip, it wasn’t much to see.

  There were a few Snake Indians camped near town, and very few wagons. It was the last place to really buy supplies on either the California or Oregon Trails, but most wagons didn’t need anything here and just camped for a night, then pressed on.

  “We’re about halfway to California from Independence,” C. J. said in the morning as they rode out of Fort Hall.

  “The easy half,” Josh said.

  Jimmy didn’t like the sound of that at all.

  Forty miles later, they reached Raft River, where the Oregon Trail split from the California Trail.

  The southern California trail went along the Raft River for a while, then went up and over a few ranges until finally dropping down on Goose Creek.

  It was on June 14th, as they worked their way along a small stream called Goose Creek, just inside the eastern edge of Nevada, the union’s newest state, that everything changed.

  The trail ahead went around a low ridge and it was from that direction that the sounds of gunfire came.

  Close, very close.

  Then a woman screamed.

  Jimmy froze, wondering if that was what his mother had sounded like when Benson killed his father.

  Then there were more shots and another scream.

  “Get down!” Zach shouted.

  All the boys dove from their horses and scrambled for cover in a small grove of trees near the spring.

  Jimmy had no idea what was happening, but it didn’t sound good.

  Again, the woman screamed loud and long.

  All Jimmy could think about was that they had to do something to help her.

  Anything.

  His mother hadn’t had anyone to help her.

  The woman’s next scream echoed over the hills and then died out in a horrible way with one more shot.

  Too late to help her. That was all he could think.

  Jimmy glanced around at his five friends. What had they gotten into this time?

  PART SEVENTEEN

  DEATH COMES TO THE WEST

  THE WOMAN’S SCREAMS were frightening in how sharp and clear they carried over the wide Goose Creek valley.

  Jimmy jerked around in the saddle of his horse, trying to figure out where the shots and screams were coming from as Long, who had been leading the six of them at a steady pace, immediately dismounted and pulled his horse toward a grove of tall trees beside the stream.

  Jimmy did the same, realizing just how big a target he was sitting up there on the horse.

  So far, the vastness of the West had scared and overwhelmed him, a flash flood had almost killed him, and he had barely escaped being trampled by a buffalo herd. Yet that woman’s scream sent more chills through his blood than anything he had heard since leaving Independence.

  Around him, the Goose Creek valley looked like a peaceful place, a wonderful green strip of life in the otherwise brown hills. Large leafy trees bordered the creek, and kept the area cool from the heat of the day.

  Keeping his head low, Jimmy followed Long deeper into the trees, finally stopping and tying up his horse on a large log.

  All six them hunkered down together, listening. Not even a slight breeze broke the silence of the valley and the gentle sounds of the stream. Jimmy could hear his own heart pounding in his chest and he tried not to pant too loudly.

  Two more shots rang out over the trees.

  Jimmy could only think about what had happened to his mother, how she must have screamed when Jake Benson shot his father in the back. Jimmy wondered if his mother’s screams sounded as chilling before she was shot as well.

  The scream came again, then another few shots. Finally, the valley settled into an uneasy silence.

  Like the silence at a funeral.

  Jimmy pushed the thought away and turned to Long and the rest of his friends. Long knew the West and distances and seemingly everything else about survival out in the wilderness. Jimmy had come to count on him and his special talents.

  “Indians?” Jimmy asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

  He forced himself to breathe and try to keep calm, not let his total hate of guns and the sound of those screams get in his way.

  “Bannocks in this area,” Long said, nodding, his long black hair flowing around his shoulders. “They are a mean group.”

  Josh, their newest member, shook his head, his notebook and pen clutched tightly in his hand. “That doesn’t sound like the type of guns the Bannocks would have.”

  All five of them turned to stare at their newest member. Clearly, besides writing stories, Josh knew guns. That was a talent that Jimmy would have to keep in mind in the future.

  Long nodded, then whispered. “Josh is right. We need to take a look.”

  “Can you tell where the sounds are coming from?” Zach asked. His hands squeezed their only gun, a hunting rifle that used to belong to Jimmy’ father.

 
Jimmy could tell that the sounds of the woman screaming had bothered Zach a lot as well. Usually Zach was the calm one. Now he was squeezing the butt of the rifle like it was a dishtowel he was trying to wring water out of.

  “Just over the ridge to the right,” Long said and Josh nodded in agreement.

  Jimmy glanced at Josh. “Can you tell how many different guns were fired?”

  “Three,” Josh said. “One rifle, two revolvers.”

  Even Long looked impressed.

  “Glad you’re along with us,” Truitt said, patting Josh’s shoulder.

  Josh smiled and nodded thanks.

  Jimmy glanced around at his five friends and decided they needed to act. This was the west, after all.

  “Truitt, you and C.J. stay with the horses. Be saddled up and ready to come riding fast with all of them if we shout for help.”

  Truitt nodded.

  Zach checked quickly to make sure the rifle was fully loaded. Between blood-thirsty outlaws, stampeding buffalo, and deadly weather, the West was proving itself to be no parlor game.

  “Go slow and stay quiet,” Long said softly as he headed out for the small rise to the right of the stream.

  To Jimmy, it seemed to take them forever to get to the top of that hill, picking their way first through the trees, then up the gentle incline through the sagebrush, moving slowly and carefully, staying in behind Long.

  But in reality, it couldn’t have been longer than a minute.

  Just before they reached the top, the crackling of a large fire could be heard from the other side, then a man laughing.

  The sound made Jimmy catch his breath.

  It was the sound of evil. Pure evil.

  Long motioned for them to spread out beside him, and then they crawled the last few feet on hands and knees to the top of the ridge as the hot sun beat down on their backs.