Sharon winked. “I’ll put up with you, for the children’s sake.”
The children cheered and Lloyd waved his arms in victory.
Kendall had a working flashlight and headed off into the dark with his wife. They waved goodbye to the children and the children politely waved back.
When they were gone, Sharon got the children’s attention. “Kay has a flashlight and will lead the girls to their room. Nathan will be in charge of the boys. The bathrooms in the house work because the water is tied into the spring. There’s also water at the kitchen sink. If you need a drink, fill your water bottle as you go in and drink from that.”
She hugged each child. The children shook hands with Jim and Lloyd because they’d been taught to do so as part of their music training at the camp. That was how musicians greeted each other. When they were done, they stepped onto the back porch and headed for their rooms.
“There’s a couple of couches in the house,” Sharon said. “I’ve not tried them out but they look nice and soft. You’re welcome to stretch out wherever you can find a spot.”
“Thank God,” Lloyd groaned. “Feels like we’ve been on the road for months. My back is killing me.”
“It’s not been a month,” Jim said. “It’s not even been a week.”
Lloyd was up and placing his banjo into the case. “Feels longer. I’m beat.”
“You need to be beat,” Jim cracked.
Sharon smiled. “Tomorrow I’d like to hear about the experiences you two have had, from walking home to where you live now. What you saw on the way over here. We’ve been fortunate but I feel like I’m behind the curve. I have no idea what’s out there.”
“If we start talking now I’ll be here all night,” Jim said. “There’s a lot to tell.”
Lloyd headed into the house with a load of gear. It was going to take him a couple of trips.
Sharon yawned, covering her mouth. “You heading in?”
Jim shook his head. “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll hang my hammock in the barn and spend the night there. The night air feels good after a long day.”
“Well, I’m headed in. You have a good night,” Sharon said.
“Make sure you lock that door,” Jim said. “I won’t be needing inside.”
Lloyd came back for his second load of gear and noticed Jim still beside the fire. “You waiting for an engraved invitation?”
“No, I’m going to stay outside.”
Lloyd rolled his eyes. “Suit yourself. I’m going to bed. Inside and on a soft couch.”
Jim waved. Sharon and Lloyd headed inside, locking the door behind them. Jim stirred the campfire ashes with a stick, spreading the coals. When he was done, he gathered his gear from the porch and ferried it to the barn. He didn’t want to leave any of it out in case they had company tonight. It took him a couple of trips to get everything.
He’d gone inside the barn when they turned the horses out earlier but he’d not paid any attention to the interior. It turned out to be a sturdy structure of pegged beams three-stories high on the inside. There was over a century of cast-off and accumulated farming equipment stored there.
Tack and harness material hung from hooks on the wall, the leather grayed with mildew and cracked from age. There were antique cans of oil and rusty tins of obsolete chemicals. Cloudy glass bottles with peeling paper labels held veterinary potions evaporated to a resinous syrup. There were broken hoes and busted shovels, snapped chains, and handle-less axes. Nails embedded in the wall held obscure tools and spare fittings to long-gone machines. A blue Ford tractor sat in the center of things, idled by a lack of fuel.
There was a stall of oak boards, the pipe gate laying asunder and so rust-coated as to render the original color lost to history. Jim attached one end of his hammock to a hand-forged iron ring embedded in the wall, likely placed there to hold an animal still while it was tended to. The other end he looped around a gate hinge sunk deep into a support post.
He set his headlamp on his bed and propped his rifle against the stall siding. He kept his boots on and sank into his hammock, pulling the open sleeping bag across his body. It wasn’t for warmth but for comfort. He started replaying the day in his head and found reliving it a second time to be just as exhausting. He was asleep within minutes.
50
Oliver’s House
A scream plunged through the night like a rusty blade arcing toward a bare chest. Sprawled on an antique couch in the living room, Lloyd didn’t process the sound at first. He snapped awake but was uncertain of what caused him to do so. He was in a stupor of exhausted sleep and started to drop his head back toward the pillow when the scream came again, the same shrill cry of terror.
Lloyd rolled off the couch, his aching knees hitting the floor hard, and pawed the ground for his fedora. Out of habit, he always laid it beside where he slept, his light and handgun inside. He snatched his headlamp from the cap and tugged it onto his head, flicking it on in the process. Now able to see, he grabbed the 1911, chambered a round, and bolted from the room barefoot, smacking his shoulder against the doorway as he ran.
Now other children were screaming too and Lloyd heard Sharon’s voice in the mix.
“What’s going on?” she called. “I’m coming. What’s wrong?”
There was another scream. Less than a dozen steps down the hallway, Lloyd could tell it was coming from the kitchen and turned right. He was on automatic pilot, driven by the sound of terror, and moved without thinking. He burst into the room and his light hit one of the children. Tara stood in the middle of the kitchen, her back to him, and a water bottle in her hand.
“Tara, what’s wrong?”
She spun toward Lloyd, pointing at the window in the kitchen door. She was unable to form words, her eyes wide and filled with tears. Lloyd scooped her up and backed from the room.
“It’s okay,” he whispered. “What did you see? What happened?”
Tara sucked in a breath and words came in sobs. “A woman...looking...in the window at me.”
Sharon came barreling down the hallway, headlamp washing the walls in a bright glare. She sent her chair rolling and extended her arms. “Tara, honey, are you okay?”
Lloyd eased the child to the floor and she sprinted for the safety of Sharon’s arms. He headed back into the kitchen, throwing open the back door, and played his light around the porch. He didn’t spot anything but that didn’t mean there wasn’t anyone out there. There were plenty of things to hide behind. Stacks of firewood, old farm machinery, cars, and overgrown brush. A person could be hiding anywhere.
From the safety of the porch, Lloyd called, “Jim! Can you hear me?”
When there was no answer, he repeated himself, yelling this time. “Jim!”
“What’s wrong?” Jim called, emerging from the barn fully dressed, rifle held across his chest. His weapon light was blazing and he was struggling to pull his headlamp on.
“One of the kids was up. She saw a woman staring through the kitchen window at her. The woman must be out here somewhere.”
At the mention of an unwanted guest, Jim doused his light and retreated into the concealment of the barn. Noting his friend’s actions, Lloyd realized that standing on the porch with a glaring beacon on his head might not be the best tactical move. He clicked off his headlamp and crouched down on the porch.
Lloyd wasn’t a fighter. He could shoot a gun but he’d never claim to be good at it. For him, it was only about staying alive. He didn’t care if he was the most skilled fighter or not. He only needed to be good enough. He listened, trying to pick out anyone moving around in the darkness. All he could hear was the wailing of the terrified children in the house and Sharon’s consoling voice escaping through the open kitchen door. He needed to silence that so he crept toward the door and gently pulled it shut. As he turned back around a low voice came from the darkness.
“It’s Jim. Don’t fucking shoot.”
Startled, Lloyd about did that and more, his bowels loosening
at the sudden arrival of an unexpected guest. He hadn’t heard a sound. “What the hell are you doing?” Lloyd had no idea what else to say. Fright had discombobulated him.
“I got my nightvision gear. I’m going to prowl around. I wish to God we had thermal. I’d be able to pick them out of the darkness if they’re out there, even if they were in the woods.”
“Be careful. I’m going back inside with Sharon and the kids. When you come back, knock on the door so we don’t blast you.”
“Yeah, I’ll do that.”
Lloyd stepped back into the house, announcing himself as he went, and found Sharon had corralled all of the children into a single room. They were gathered around a flickering stub of a candle in the bedroom the girls shared. They looked at him expectantly.
“Jim is out looking around. He’s got some nightvision gear that makes it easier to find the bad guys.”
“I’ve used that in video games,” Nathan said. “That’s badass!”
Sharon cut him a sharp look.
Nathan looked sheepish. “Sorry. I meant to say that’s cool.”
“That’s better,” Sharon said. “Where did you all come up with gear like that, Lloyd?”
Lloyd let out a long breath and leaned against the wall by the doorway. “It’s a complicated story. My friend out there is a prepper. You know what a prepper is?”
“Like a survivalist, right?” Sharon asked.
Lloyd wavered his hand in the air. “Eh, kind of. Let’s just say he was prepared for something like this. Or at least he thought he was. I guess no one is ever really as prepared as they think they are.”
“He had all this stuff stored at his place?” she continued. “That’s why you’ve been living there?”
“He had a lot of gear, but we’ve also come by a lot of other stuff through...” He paused to consider his words. “Other means.”
“What other means?”
“There’s no easy way to say it. We’ve been in constant fights since this happened. We’ve fought military folks, we’ve fought cops, and we’ve fought neighbors. Winner takes the spoils. Some of the gear we ended up with came to us that way. Because the people who brought it into the fight were too dead to need it any longer.”
“You fought cops?” Nathan asked. “Are you outlaws?” He sounded kind of excited about that possibility.
Sharon and Lloyd exchanged a look, both of them understanding that this was probably not the optimal circumstance under which to have such a conversation. It was too late now. It was out there.
“It’s a lot harder to know who’s a bad guy and who’s a good guy now,” Lloyd explained. “There are good cops and there are bad cops. There are good soldiers and there are soldiers who are letting bad things happen. Some of them are American soldiers and some are from other places. You can’t just look at a uniform now and know who’s on your side. It’s a complicated time.”
“I never pictured you being part of something like that,” Sharon said. “You were always the mild-mannered banjo-playing barber.”
Lloyd shrugged. “I never could have imagined it either. Could you have seen yourself living at the camp with a group of children through something like this?”
“I’m not a children,” Nathan said.
Kay piped in, “Neither am I.”
“I’m sorry,” Lloyd said. “A group of young people. That better?”
They smiled in agreement.
“Yeah, that’s the last thing I would have imagined too,” Sharon admitted. “If I’d known it was coming, I’d have packed a lot better.”
Lloyd smiled. “I bet. How are you guys doing it?” Another bad question to ask in front of the children. Lloyd knew it as soon as he asked it, but tact had never been his strong suit.
There was a flicker of concern in Sharon’s eyes, then a forced smile. The children needed her to be strong. “It’s tough and it gets tougher every day. What’s happening now, what’s happened over the last week, has been the toughest yet. We’ll get through it though. Why did you end up joining up with your friend instead of staying at your place?”
“I originally went over that way to check on my parents. They live near Jim’s place. At least they did.”
Sensing the foreboding in his voice, she didn’t ask what had happened to them. She could figure it out. “Do you like living over there?”
Lloyd hesitated before answering. “Not really. I’ve made some good friends there, including a woman that I’ve been seeing, but I’d much rather be someplace quieter. I’d rather be hanging with musicians than warriors.”
“I’d imagine it’s quite different than the life you’re used to.”
Lloyd raised his eyebrows at that. “I think we could all say that of our current circumstances. But yeah, you can’t imagine how different. It’s stressful.”
“You should come live with us, Mr. Lloyd,” Tara offered.
Lloyd laughed and automatically rattled off all the reasons he couldn’t do that. Sharon helped him out, stroking Tara’s hair and explaining that Lloyd had his own life to get back to. Yet the more he talked, the more he wondered who he was really trying to convince. Could it work? Could this be what he needed?
“Besides, I’m not sure Sharon would want me around,” he concluded.
“Sharon doesn’t have any problem with you being around,” Sharon countered. “I make these kids practice and do lessons but I can’t teach them anything. They’re not covering any new material.”
That comment started Lloyd’s mind going again, but the thought was interrupted by a sharp knock at the door. The children jumped and Lloyd’s hand dropped to his handgun.
“It’s me,” Jim’s voice called from the kitchen.
Lloyd backed out of the room and met him in the hallway. “Anything?”
Jim flipped his nightvision gear up out of the way. “There was a trail of crushed grass from the porch, leading into the woods. One person, best I could tell. I tracked them into the woods but they must have caught a game trail. There wasn’t any more sign to follow after that and I couldn’t hear anyone moving.”
“But there was someone there?” Sharon asked from the other room.
Jim and Lloyd joined Sharon in the bedroom.
“Definitely,” Jim said. “It’s easy to spot in that high grass. Someone flattened a trail from the woods to the back porch.”
“I told you,” Tara said.
Sharon leaned over and hugged Tara. “I didn’t doubt you, sweetie. We just had to make sure.”
“And I found this.” Jim extended his hand.
Lloyd clicked on his headlamp to better see what he was holding. “A key?”
“To this house,” Jim said. “It was still in the kitchen door. I’m guessing that if she hadn’t been caught, that woman would have gotten inside.”
Sharon went pale, shaking her head in disbelief.
Lloyd had a look of disgust on his face. “Where does this end? Everywhere we go, we walk into something like this.”
Jim pulled the heavy nightvision off his head and replaced it with his headlamp. “You’ve been living with me for almost a year now. You know where it ends. You know what has to be done here.”
Lloyd had nothing to say to that. He and his best friend were different people. This wasn’t even Jim’s fight. He’d only been along for the ride, accompanying Lloyd on this little side-jaunt to visit Oliver. Neither had counted on something like this. Yet there was no way to back out now. They were in the thick of it.
51
Jim’s Valley
After returning from the farmer’s market yesterday Hugh never found an opportunity to catch up with Charlie. Most days they ran into each at some point unless it was an especially busy day. Hugh assumed Charlie was probably avoiding him. He expected that Pete had asked Charlie about his trip into town, as he said he would. Charlie had already indicated that he didn’t want to talk to Hugh about it, but Hugh had more information now. This hadn’t been a trip into town to see a girl or tak
e advantage of some obscure resources that others had missed. It was a trip to murder a man he saw as a threat.
It was an assassination.
Hugh didn’t want to force the conversation with Charlie. He didn’t want to give Charlie the impression he was pursuing him or that he was in trouble. Despite what Charlie might think, Hugh had nothing but respect for the tough, resilient kid. He wanted him to succeed and feel like he was a part of the community. At the same time, he couldn’t exactly turn a blind eye to the kid assassinating someone. Even with the state of the world, something like that at least merited a conversation. Since he hadn’t run into Charlie yesterday, he would make a point of it today. After waking up in Jim’s shop, it was the first thing on his mind.
Some nights the boys chose to stay in the barn, but they hadn’t done so last night and Hugh’s suspicious nature told him that was probably intentional. Although the boys didn’t want to take a chance on encountering Hugh, they couldn’t just hide. It was important that everyone know where everyone else was at night so they had to check-in. Around dark last night, Hugh caught a radio transmission between Pete and his mother. The boys were going to be staying at Outpost Pete last night, the observation post located on the highest point of Jim’s property.
Hugh set out at first light. Despite the tall grass, prone to swishing against pants and crackling underfoot, Hugh made it to the outpost without anyone inside noticing his arrival. He ignited the tiny stove he’d brought along, an ultralight piece of aluminum gear that burned denatured alcohol, and heated water in a canteen cup. When it was near boiling, he dumped in two instant coffee pouches and stirred the coffee with the tip of his knife. He was enjoying the sunrise with a steaming cup when the first confused face jutted from the outpost.
It was Pete and he muttered some indecipherable comment. Hugh wasn’t sure if it was a greeting or merely an exclamation of surprise.
“What is it?” Charlie asked from inside the structure.
“It’s Hugh,” Pete said.
The Borrowed World Series | Book 8 | Blood & Banjos Page 31
