The girl in the corner chair, wearing only an old motel towel, had her eyes glued to the video screen of his phone. Dawson had been watching it before he passed out on the bed. She grabbed it before he had a chance to puke on it. Initially, she was just amazed, that it was a working phone. Her phone along with her friends phones had died when the power went out. She was going to try making a call, but then the video caught her attention. She tried to reconcile what she saw on the screen with the man lying on the bed. Dawson rolled over again, this time face first into his vomit.
Jesus, the girl thought. What if he suffocates in his own puke? She walked to the bed, plugging her nose. Dawson’s breathing was interrupted by the wet sheets. She leaned in to check on him. Even with her plugged nose, the smell sent her reeling back; scrunching up her face. His breath seemed to get shallower … she wasn’t sure. Holding her nose and her breath, she grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the puke. He seized and coughed, then rolled back into the vomit.
Fine, she thought. Lie where you want. At least you’re still breathing. She sat back down and watched the video once more as it started from the beginning. The sound wasn’t that clear, and the picture flickered off and on.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, consider yourselves fortunate to be amongst the few lucky enough to see this country’s premier young rodeo star.” The crowd was fixated on the steer chute. The jumbotron displayed stats for a rider named Dawson Chambers. “One day, when you’re all rocking on your front porch, you’ll be able to tell your grandkids how you were there to see the first professional ride of the greatest rodeo star in America.” The crowd applauded wildly. The camera showed a young man, barely more than a boy, sitting himself down on one of those big pissed-off steers that real cowboys ride for eight seconds. Or at least they try to. “Today, this young man gets the challenge of his career. He’s drawn the biggest, baddest, and wildest steer of the crop. This bull has given us the most back-busting rides in rodeo history. We’re lucky to have him here today. Some of you have seen this bull, but none of you have ever seen a cowboy ride this bull for more than five seconds. Those of you that have followed the career of young Dawson Chambers know he’s the only rider here who’s never been thrown from a steer in under eight seconds. Today he’s face to face with the meanest animal on four legs. This steer has already ended the careers of two cowboys. There’s been talk of retiring him, but not today. Today, we get to see the unbeatable cowboy vs the unbeatable steer. It’s Dawson Chambers vs Apocalypso.”
The camera showed a close-up of the rider strapping his wrist to the bull, one hand on his hat, and the other on the animal. The bull bucked violently and knocked a wrangler clear off the gate and into the dirt. Dawson put another wrap on his wrist. The helpers signaled they were clear, and the gate flew open.
On the motel bed, Dawson groaned in pain, then once more puked into the sheets.
Chapter 31 ~ Responsibility
As Maggie raced across town—committing half a dozen moving, speeding and zoning violations—multiple thoughts raced through her mind. Most of which she couldn’t understand for the life of her. Human beings are strange creatures at the best of times, she thought, and at their worst, they make stupid depraved choices. It made her crazy, especially when those choices affected the people she cared about in her life; like the kids. She could understand that sometimes life put people in tough situations. There was no doubt that Dawson wasn’t living his dreams. But he needed to realize that other people’s lives were affected by the choices he made. That was where she was going to start her lecture when she got her hands on him.
That Maggie made it all the way across town without getting pulled over was a sure indication that either some major crime spree was occupying the entire police force, or the local doughnut shop was having a two-for-one special. She drove into the parking lot of the most derelict-looking motel she’d ever seen. Whenever she drove by this way in the past, she always though it was an old condemned building. Not that she drove through this section of town very often. This area had long since seen its better days, and a frequent topic of conversation with the town council was what should be done with it. Demolition was the preferred option, but no one seemed to have the funds. Apparently, knocking down buildings can be almost as expensive as putting them up; at least when you’re in the middle of a depressed economy, and the demolition firms are so backlogged.
She parked the car and started walking to the hotel office when a young girl wearing fewer clothes the Maggie ever allowed her daughter to wear out in public approached.
“Maggie? I believe we talked on the phone. I got your number from his cell phone.” She handed her Dawson’s cell phone. “You’re not like his wife or something, are you?” The girl looked behind her as if she was expecting someone. “If you’re his girlfriend or anything, I’m really sorry, I didn’t know. I don’t usually do this kind of stuff with guys. We were both pretty drunk last night. One thing just led to another, and then we woke up here. He said he wasn’t married, honestly. I believed him. He’s pretty convincing when you’re both drunk, and he’s staring at you with those baby blue eyes.”
“His eyes are green, sweetie.” Maggie took the phone from her. “Don’t worry, hon, I’m not his wife or his girlfriend or anything like that. More like his babysitter. At least that’s what I seem to be doing most of these days.”
The girl squinted at Maggie. “You’re a little bit old to be a babysitter, aren’t you? No offense intended.”
Maggie just smiled. “No offense taken. And you’re right, I’m definitely too old to be his babysitter. And more to the point, he’s far too old to need a babysitter.”
They both nodded in agreement.
“He’s down in room 8F. The door’s open, and I gotta get out of here. I was supposed to be at work a couple of hours ago, but I didn’t want to leave him all alone like that. I was worried he might choke on his own puke. It’s pretty gross, but I tried cleaning him up. Hopefully he’ll stay that way till you get there.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that, and his kids will too.”
The girl narrowed her eyes. “He’s got kids?” She shook her head as she headed across the parking lot.
“Yeah, tell me about it,” Maggie muttered to herself as she walked into the hotel room.
“All right, soldier!” Maggie boomed as she slammed the door shut as hard as she could. “It’s time for roll call. Get your ass out of bed!”
Dawson never stirred from where he lay. The odor of fresh vomit wafted in from the bathroom. Maggie slammed that door shut as loud as she could. Dawson moaned a little.
“Dawson! Time to move. I don’t have time for this. You need to get yourself up and dressed.”
Maggie pulled the pillow out from under Dawson’s head, then yanked the sheets off him.
Dawson stirred, and rolled himself to the edge of the bed. “Where are my clothes?”
“Across the room.” Maggie nodded.
“Argh, my head,” Dawson mumbled. “Can you hand them to me?”
Maggie shook her head. “No, as a matter of fact I can’t. What I can do … and what I did do … was interrupt my day to drive all the way across town because some stranger called me to say that you were throwing up all over the place, and she didn’t know if you were going to have to go to the hospital, and she didn’t have time in her busy day to take you there. Apparently I did have time, so here I am. So, the least you can do is to drag your butt across this sleazy pit of a motel room and pick up your own clothes.”
“OK, OK. I’m moving. Not so loud please.”
Maggie pulled the drapes, to check on the car in the parking lot. Jake had spent hours getting it working again since the CME, and wouldn’t be happy if one of the few working vehicles in town got stolen while she rescued a hung over Dawson. “The faster you move the quieter I’ll talk, mister.”
Dawson raised his hands in surrender as he started collecting his clothes and getting dressed.
“What t
he hell were you thinking?” Maggie asked. “Actually, don’t answer that, because obviously you weren’t, and I’m in no mood to hear lame excuses. What I am going to do is tell you what I’m thinking.”
Dawson was doing his best to get one leg at a time into his pants, and failing miserably. He decided to try again while sitting.
Maggie watched him, but found nothing about this funny. “You know you have children, right? Two beautiful, smart and very loving children. For now, I’m having an incredibly hard time understanding why they are so attached to you. It’s one of the few burdens that children seem to be required to carry. No matter how much you screw up, they simply can’t help but have deep-seated love towards you. Your kids don’t seem to care how irresponsible or reckless you are. All they care about is that you’re OK.”
Now fully clothed from the waist down, Dawson tried desperately hard to manipulate the buttons of his shirt, which seemed to have a mind of their own and wanted to go anywhere but in the correct buttonhole.
“Now, since you haven’t brought it up, the answer to the big question, is ‘we still don’t know’.”
Dawson looked up at Maggie with a confused look. His mind raced to figure out what Maggie was referring to, but the alcohol wouldn’t let him find the answer. “Big question?” He mumbled.
“Maggie shook her head. “We still don’t know where the kids are. Your kids to be more specific. They’re missing … remember?”
Dawson’s memories came flooding back. “Jesus!” His whole body sagged, as he raised both hands to cover his face.
“Unless that is, you found them in the bottom of a bottle. I assume, that’s the excuse for this bender.” Dawson forced himself up and stumbled towards the door. “Well, that’s the smartest move I’ve seen you make so far today. Let’s get you home.”
Chapter 32 ~ Lockdown
Jake took a lot of pride in the cottage in the backyard. A prepper’s paradise, he thought. He’d been building on it for years; an ongoing hobby. It was stocked to the rafters with all kinds of survival gear. Maggie wasn’t too sure about it at first, but with all the bad news these days, she didn’t mind when he decided to spend a few dollars adding to it. There was enough food and water stored in the place to last their family of four for a year. Even though the kids didn’t live with them now, Jake had made plans to allow for them to be part of an extended stay.
He bought both the kids matching 1973 Chevy Biscaynes as gifts. When they complained about the upkeep, he promised to totally take care of that. They were classics, he’d told them, and you never knew when you might need a second car. Especially if they ever decided to start families. Besides, he liked having the old Biscaynes there for when he came to visit. It was the car he’d learned to drive on, and he said having his favorite car to drive gave him a good excuse to visit. Not that he needed an excuse; he missed the kids quite a bit since they’d moved out and always enjoyed spending time with them. They didn’t need to know that he’d bought them because they’d be amongst the few cars that would still work in the event of a massive solar flare or EMP attack.
And when they were house shopping in the big city, of course Jake had to be part of it. “Just being a helpful dad,” he would say. “Sure, you can pick the house you really want, it’s your decision. But wouldn’t it be nice to have a house on the west side, so you’re at least closer to your mother. She misses you guys, you know. Plus, you don’t want to have your old dad having to drive through that big city traffic when he comes to visit.” Jake knew that getting out of the big city in a hurry was imperative when things went to shit. Being on the west side of Fort Worth improved their odds greatly if they had to get to Jake’s cottage in a hurry.
When Jake first built the cottage, there was underground work that took place that Maggie didn’t know about. She’d seen the workers digging with tanks and pipes going in before the above ground work started. Jake had told her it was for complying with building code and for the new septic tank. Which was true, but there was more to it. By the time the work was completed, there was more living space below the foundation of the cottage than above it. While most of the storage space was above ground, there was still a significant amount below. Jake figured that supplies stored in the main cottage served as a passive line of defense. If hostiles broke into the cottage, they’d think they’d hit the motherlode. Anyone desperate to attack another man’s property would likely be without food and water. Finding the stores in the cottage would slow them down long enough for Jake and the family to formulate a retaliation strike. That wasn’t to say that Jake was ready to sacrifice the stores in the upper level to the first raiders that showed up. The priority was keeping the underground portion of the bunker safe and secure from any invaders. That’s where the real challenge had been in the design of the place. As long as the people down below were secure, they could deal with any bandits that managed to find a way in to the upper level.
Jake had nearly a decade to plan for this. While the cottage looked like an inviting country resort in his backyard, he could turn it into Fort Knox virtually at the click of a button. The resourceful engineer inside his head couldn’t stop dreaming up solutions. His to-do list was big enough to fill the backyard, but for today he was confident that work already completed on the cottage would be sufficient.
The town had seemed to be doing OK, in spite of the effects from the CME, but this latest turn of events was too much. You need to know when to fight, and when to retreat to higher ground. Or in this case, lower ground. Jake, Maggie, Dawson and the kids would go into lockdown mode in the cottage. Dawson’s behavior had been reprehensible, especially considering the situation. Some might say understandable in spite of the situation, but Jake wasn’t one of those. There was nothing more important to Jake than family. He knew that it appeared at times that he was obsessed with details of a project or gadget. Anyone that really knew him knew those things were manifestations of his love and concern for family. He figured that was the only reason Maggie put up with the money and time he spent on the cottage.
The decision to take Dawson into the bunker or leave him on his own was one that could have gone either way for Jake. On one hand, the thought that Jake’s own kids were still hundreds of miles away—albeit hopefully on their way towards him—made it difficult for him to go into lockdown. It kept him awake at night, even though he believed they’d make it. He also knew they needed a safe haven to arrive at. It was his responsibility to keep the place safe and secure. They’d talked about it before, and he trusted in those decisions. They’d be counting on him to do his part, and that’s what he was going to do. The decision to take Dawson into the bunker—at least in Jake’s mind—had more to do with Veronica and Chase than it did with Dawson. When the kids returned, they needed to have a father to return to. They were the only reason Jake was getting a free pass into the cottage.
* * *
Dawson was nowhere near sober as the three of them made their way to the cottage. Dawson stumbled and tripped over his own two feet, falling multiple times. Maggie reached down to help him up, but Jake pulled her back.
Jake spoke up. “It’s bad enough we’re going in here without the kids.” Maggie looked sternly at Jake. “Yes, I mean his kids and our kids. There are consequences. If he’s got the gumption to go out and get himself loaded while his kids are God knows where, then he can drag his sorry ass across this backyard. If he really wants it, then he’ll fight for it. Neither I nor you can carry him there.”
Maggie reluctantly stepped back, and nodded in agreement. She tried wondering what her reaction would be if Jake had done what Dawson did. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t imagine Jake falling apart like that. And when it came right down to it, these were similar circumstances for Jake. Perhaps his kids hadn’t been taken, but at the moment he didn’t know where they were. Neither one of them did, and neither one of them fell onto a bottle to deal with it.
Maggie pleaded. “Dawson! This is your last chance. It’s your kids
’ last chance. They’re counting on you to do this. If you care at all for them, or have even a smidgen of regret, then you haul your ass up and follow us into the cottage.” Thoughts of her own kids, even though they were fully capable adults, moistened Maggie’s eyes. “Otherwise, you can lie there and wait for that bastard with a rifle to come back and finish the job.” Dawson barely moved.
Jake shook his head. “I’ve never hated being so right about someone in my entire life. It’s time to go, Maggie.” Jake held his hand out to her.
“Dawson, damn you! Stop thinking about yourself just this once. This isn’t about you and your problems. Right now, I could care less if you ever got up. But for reasons beyond their control, your children will. They will care when we get them back. They will want to know what their father did. They will want to hear that their father did everything in his power to save them. What story do you want us to tell them? What story do you want them to hear, and who do you want them to hear it from?” Maggie leaned over, practically on top of Dawson. “Are you going to be the one to tell them that story?” Maggie’s voice cracked as she asked her last question.
Jake put his arm around Maggie’s shoulder and led her reluctantly to the cottage. His mind was already running through the next steps. Beyond just securing the cottage, was the search for the children. This wasn’t something he’d ever prepared for. He built the cottage for Maggie and his kids. Leaving Dawson sprawled on the ground created massive knots in his stomach, but it had to be done. Times had changed. The upcoming days or weeks or months were not the time to be taking on liabilities. Everyone had to carry their own weight. Everyone had to be able to make a difference. If they couldn’t, then they were a danger to everyone else. Dawson had to want this for himself, that’s the only way this could work.
America's Sunset: A Post Apocalyptic Fight for Survival Page 16
