EMP Antediluvian Courage : Book 3

by S A Ison

  “Yes. How can I help?”

  “Well, I’d like for you to stay here. I have some food in the basement I need brought up. Do you think you could help me? You look big and strong.” She watched carefully as his grin widened.

  “Sure. Where’s your basement?”

  “Over here dear,” she said, and pointed to the basement door.

  He passed her and went to the door, as he opened it, she reached for the baseball bat. When the door was opened, she swung the bat and cracked him on the back of his big head. There was a hollow whump. The man had thick hair and she hoped she’d hit him hard enough.

  He didn’t make a sound as he crumpled boneless and rolled down the steps into the basement. It was a slow process, his big body hitting the basement walls as he went down. She thought she might have to go and kick him the rest of the way, but he eventually made it to the bottom. She let out a satisfied sigh, and smiled. Going to the kitchen, she got her solar lantern.

  She made her way down the steps and stepped over the large body. She hummed as she set her lantern on her work table. She could feel Vern’s eyes drilling into her back.

  “Yes, Vern, what is it?”

  “You got him. Can you let me go? I swear, I won’t tell a soul.”

  “Vern, you have no arms and no feet. What are you going to do out there?”

  “I can live,” Vern said softly.

  “That would just be cruel. You at least have a stay of execution, Vern. I have this large man here. Looks like he will last me a long time. You can relax and enjoy the extended time.”

  Bella May moved about the basement, pulling nylon ropes between the downed man and the pullies. She cut the clothing off the large man, throwing it into a pile to burn later. It took a bit of doing, but finally she got the unconscious man hoisted into the chair. She secured him, adding a few more loops of chain. He was a big man and it wouldn’t do for him to break free. She also put a chain around his neck, just in case he worked himself loose.

  She’d been doing this for too long to screw it up by underestimating a man. She then checked his wound and was satisfied. She’d not broken the skin, but there was a good size lump in the back of his head. She went upstairs to retrieve a bucket of water and a rag. Taking the rag, she began to wash him. She wrinkled her nose.

  “I’ll swear, some of these men just plain stink. I don’t understand the aversion to simple soap and water. It doesn’t take that much water to keep your body clean,” she grumped.

  “Did you kill him?” Vern asked, no emotion evident.

  “Naw, didn’t even break the skin. You have to finesse these things. Yes sir, this is a nice big boy. Good eatin’.” She laughed, smacking the rounded hairy belly.

  A long, low moan came, and his eyes began to flutter open. She smiled and looked into his eyes. She enjoyed these first few moments, when their confusion cleared to awareness, and then to reality and clarity. There was power, and it was almost as good as the food she took.

  “What … what … oh shit, my head hurts. What happened?” the man groaned.

  “Hello, young man. What is your name?” Bella May asked, her voice kind and encouraging.

  “What? My, my name’s Morty,” he said, blinking hard, trying to focus on her.

  “Hey Morty,” Vern called in a dead voice.

  “Vern?” Morty asked, trying to locate the voice in the room. His eyes squinted and couldn’t seem to focus.

  Bella May watched the two men. This was better than TV. Morty was turning his head, eyes blinking rapidly. He tried to lean forward but was unable to. He didn’t quite understand why.

  “Vern? Why are ya nekid?” Morty asked, confused.

  “Sorry Morty, you’ve been caught.”

  “What do ya mean, caught?” he asked, wincing as he shook his head.

  “He means that you stepped into the wrong house, young man,” Bella May said.

  Morty tracked her voice and found her in her position by the table. He still looked confused. He looked back to Vern, then his eyes bulged. Bella May figured he’d just noticed Vern was missing arms and feet.

  “Jesus Christ, Vern, what happened to you? Where are your arms? And your feet? Christ!” Morty expostulated.

  “Bella May ate my arms and my feet, Morty. You’re next,” Vern said, his voice low.

  Bella May saw the fear as it entered Morty’s eyes, as he looked over to her, then for the first time realized he too was secured and also naked. She watched as his eyes grew enormous, then sheened with unshed tears. His eyes went back to Vern. His lips trembled and he began to shake his head. His body began to rock, but the chains held him secure and tight to the metal support. The sound of the metal chains clinked against the support, the chime of a trap. His teeth gritted as he struggled against his bonds futilely.

  Then he screamed, “Nooooooooooooooo!”

  Bella May smiled.

  ֍

  Mary was confined to the bed, sipping her milked-down coffee as Jutta sat beside her. There was a TV tray between them, holding a plate of biscuits, coffee gravy, sliced tomatoes, and two eggs over easy. She wasn’t very hungry, but Jutta refused to leave until she ate. She hoped the coffee would help bring up her appetite. Luckily, she’d had no more bleeding, and between meals she drank the teas Jutta and her daughters brought to her.

  Beside her on the bed were stacks of books and a deck of cards. The girls were sweet enough to keep her entertained during the days. She napped often, and Jutta walked her around the room several times a day, to get her up and her blood flowing. They’d all been so kind, but she missed David and wished he’d come soon. She looked over at the plate and smiled.

  “I think I can eat now. Thank you for taking such good care of me, Jutta.” She smiled softly as she took a piece of the sliced tomato and dipped it into the gravy. She groaned in delight. Her eyes rolled up and she closed them, her body rocking happily back and forth.

  “Oh, my goodness, this gravy is so darn good.”

  Jutta tittered, her face turning bright pink with pleasure. “That’s my Granny’s recipe. My young’uns can’t get enough of it.”

  “Well, you’ll have to give me the recipe. I think that when my baby is old enough, I think he’ll love it,” Mary said, biting into the biscuits and eggs, groaning once more in bliss.

  Before she realized it, she’d cleaned her plate. She looked at Jutta in surprise. “I guess I was hungrier than I thought. When will David and the people from the mine be back here?”

  “They should be back week after next. They are planning on getting the rest of the folks out of there.”

  “Oh, that would be wonderful. How are all the children doing?”

  “They’re good. We found some of their relatives and smuggled some of them back to their homes. Gerhard and I’ve been talking. Many of the folks coming out of the coal mine, well, they may have to go to families around here until they can get on their feet. We will be donating a lot of our crops to the families who take in those coming out of the mines. Then, next year, they’ll be better able to take care of themselves,” Jutta said.

  “Oh Jutta, that is a wonderful idea. Maybe some of them can help next spring for planting, like a community garden or farm. What do you think?”

  “Why, that sounds like a wonderful idea. I’d been layin’ awake at nights frettin’ about the spring planting. We can only get so much planted, and this will help them out as well as ourselves. I’ll let Gerhard know. I think that will really work, and help us all out. It’ll give hope to those who want to work and feed their families,” Jutta said, excited.

  She stood, picking up the empty plate.

  “I think I’ll take a nap; my tummy is so nice and full. Thank you so much for taking good care of me, Jutta.”

  “It’s nothing, and sleep tight, Mary.”

  Mary was asleep before the door closed.

  ֍

  Harry, Clay, and Boggy were out in the woods, hunting. Since Boggy had shot the buck, Harry wanted to get out
and shoot a few more. They’d separated, though they were each aware of the others’ locations. No one wanted to get shot by friendly fire.

  Harry and Willene had been discussing bringing in more meat a few days earlier.

  “Look,” Willene said, “we have a lot of people here. I want to make sure we have a surplus of meat. Besides canning, maybe we can smoke some of the venison, and also make jerky.”

  “No problem. I’d been thinking of making jerky too. Smoking some is also a great idea. Let’s see about what we can do. Earl is out hunting now. Me and the guys will head out in a couple days and see what we can bring down,” Harry said.

  “Also, keep in mind that, at some point, we can use some of that meat for trading if things settle down eventually.”

  “Good thinking. I’m hoping that, when we hit Audrey and his people, we’ll free the town and ourselves of the threat they pose. Also, so we can stop them from taking what little people have.”

  Harry froze, his mind was drawn back to the present. A buck stood up about thirty feet away. It was a big one and he felt his adrenaline surge. He raised his rifle, let out his breath slowly, and took the shot. It was a good one.

  His body relaxed and he walked toward the downed animal. It was a clean shot; the animal was dead. It was a hunter’s hope that when he killed an animal, he’d kill it with the first shot. No suffering. No one wanted that. But then, with hunting these men, could the same be said for them? Would he, could he, make them suffer? What kind of man did that make him? He did want them to suffer, but, more than that, he just wanted them gone. He wanted the suffering of others to stop. Perhaps he didn’t want them to suffer when he killed them, but Harry was pretty sure that some would want them to suffer, and suffer badly. It was a decision each man had to make, then live with.

  He was sure that if someone went after Willene or Marilyn, or Monroe, he’d want them to suffer. But, he thought, unless there was a deep drive to do so, he just couldn’t do it. He could kill them sure, with or without them suffering.

  ֍

  Boney followed Grady, who was roughly a mile ahead and heading out of town. Boney had borrowed Wilber’s truck and was keeping well back, his truck lights off. He hoped that wherever Grady was going, he’d get there soon, because it was already early evening. If Boney needed to use the headlights, his plan would have to wait. Boney went slow, stopping every now and then along the side of the road. When he felt safe to move ahead, he drove to catch up, then stopped again, letting Grady get ahead.

  Finally, Grady turned off to the left. Boney waited a few minutes before driving slowly toward the turn. It was dusk now and the light was fading fast. He turned left and stopped. There was a house about three hundred feet down a long drive.

  Boney backed out. This was perfect.

  It appeared this was Grady’s home. He’d thought he knew the location but had wanted to make sure. There was nothing worse than bad intel. Not to mention going into the wrong house to kill a man. That would not work out well, he was sure. He could come back later tonight and sneak in, explore a bit. He didn’t know if Grady had a wife and kids, so it would take some thinking. He wasn’t going to hurt women and children, no matter what kind of peckerwood Grady was.

  He turned the truck around and headed to Wilber’s house. There was some planning to do. No longer needing stealth, he turned the headlights on since it was now full-on dark. It was quiet on the road and he saw no other vehicles. Perhaps he and Wilber should go out hunting tonight, pick off a couple idgits. He was feeling antsy. It had been a while since their last operation. The more they could pick off now, the fewer they had to worry about later. He had some questions for Grady, and he planned to get that intel before he and his people freed the folks down in that coal mine.

  He pulled onto Wilber’s street and saw the lantern in Wilber’s living room window. He smiled. He pulled into the drive and got out. The door to the house opened and he saw Alan’s tall, slender figure. He grinned, and Alan stood aside to let him enter.

  “What say you, Boney?” Wilber called from his easy chair.

  Boney went to the couch and sat heavily, groaning as he did so. Loud pops from his joints echoed in the room as he situated himself. He grinned as Alan brought him a cup of coffee.

  “Thank ye, son, an’ I found out and confirmed ware that gomer, Grady lives. Figure we’d get him in the middle oh the night, take him some place quiet and get a few answers,” he said, sipping the hot liquid. It felt good. The nights were becoming cooler and the hot coffee warmed his gut.

  “Well now, that’s some good news. In the next day or two, or tonight?” Wilber asked.

  “I was thinkin’ of goin’ huntin’ some of his boys tonight, and in a few days to snatch Grady,” Boney suggested. “Maybe. What do you think?”

  Boney watched as his friend pondered the thought of a hunt that night. Wilber scratched at the stubble on his face. The rasping filled the quiet room, Alan sat quietly, also waiting to hear what Wilber had to say.

  “Well, I sure as heck would love nothin’ better to take a couple of days to ponder it, but if we’re gonna take Grady, we might want to go ahead and do it tonight or, rather, in the early morning. We go pickin’ off his men and he’ll be on high alert. It’d be harder ta git him. Why don’t me an’ you do that tonight?”

  “I kin drive, an’ you two get him,” Alan volunteered enthusiastically.

  Boney looked at the young man and then back to Wilber. He mulled over the possibilities and came to the same conclusion. Wilber was right. Should they knock off a couple booger-eaters, it would just tighten things down more. They desperately needed the intel Grady could provide. Then he and the boys could pick off the others, bring the numbers down. He had names; he just needed locations.

  “You’re right, Wilber, I know you are. And yeah, we can get that ole boy tonight. Alan, you can drive the truck, but you’ll stay parked down at the bottom of the drive. Anything goes wrong, you head to your friends and stay there, ’cause they’ll come a huntin’ fir ya,” Boney said.

  He saw the bright grin on Alan’s face. He’d have the boy keep watch, but he’d not let the boy near when they went to interrogate Grady. No child should see that kind of deliberate brutality.

  “Oh, I forgot ta tell you, I seen Morty Greer, or rather he seen me. I tolt him that Miss Bella May needed help and wanted protection. I sent him to her. He’s a big feller. I hope I did right,” Alan said, a worried knot between his brows.

  Wilber and Boney both started sniggering, and then out and out laughing. The older men began to cough and sputter. Wilber slapping his knee and rocked back and forth in his lounger, his feet stomping. “That poor bastard don’t stand a chance. He ain’t the brightest,” Wilber said, wiping the tears from his eyes.

  “Yeah. That boy’s so stupid he fell out of the stupid tree and hit ever’ branch on the way down, and then climbed back up and fell back down it again. If I know Bella May, that boy is already planted out back. She used ta keep baseball bats scattered about the house after her home got broken into twenty years ago. Then, eight years ago, some poor bastard broke in ta her house. He never left. She nearly tore his head off with that bat. That boy’s family was all upset and wanted revenge. She told ’em, ‘Come on over. I’ll cure all your ills.’ Never heard another peep from ’em after that.” Boney laughed again.

  ֍

  Alan sat in the truck, waiting. It was nearly 3 a.m. and his grandfather and Boney had gone into Grady’s home twenty minutes earlier. Alan wiped at the sweat beading up on his upper lip. It was nerves; the early morning was damp and cold. He was to wait for the older men to bring Grady to the truck. His grandfather had taken a pillowcase. Alan was not to speak in Grady’s presence under any circumstances, and if Grady escaped, Alan was to head to Harry’s house and stay put.

  Once again, Alan wiped at his upper lip, then he jerked forward when he heard his grandfather’s heavy breathing. He detected Boney’s too, and muffled grunting. He looked out into the
dim night and saw three men heading his way. He got out of the truck and put down the truck’s tailgate. Boney had the man by one arm and a long knife pointed at the man’s groin. His grandfather had the other arm, and held a long knife to his neck.

  Grady’s arms were tied behind him, and the pillowcase had been pulled over his head and a rope tied around that. Grady grunted when his hip hit the tailgate. Boney shoved him into the truck bed before climbing up into the back of the truck. He nodded to Wilber, who shut the tailgate. Boney pulled a tarp over Grady’s prone body and Wilber jumped into the driver’s seat. Alan got back into the truck via the passenger’s side.

  Wilber pulled away, keeping the lights off until they were well up the road.

  Alan scooted closer to his grandfather.

  “What took so long, Pop Pop?” he whispered into his grandfather’s ear. He knew it wasn’t necessary, since there was no way Grady would hear them, but he did so anyway. The situation seemed to require it.

  “It was a stealthy operation. It took time ta git in ta that house. Then, when we went to the bedroom, he was in bed with his wife. We didn’t want ta wake her. Boney put his hand over Grady’s mouth the same time I put the knife ta his balls.” Wilber laughed softly.

  Alan looked out of the back window. Boney was leaning against the cab of the truck. He looked back at his grandfather, impressed. “So, his missus never woke up?”

  “Naw. She was snorin’ away. It was dark, and so we put the pillacase over his head. He ain’t seen who we was. Boney tied him up while I shoved the knife up close and personal to his ’nads. He was real cooperative.” He sniggered.

  Alan scooted over to his side of the seat and looked out the window. He was impressed. His grandpa might be old, but he was cunning and he was good. A soft smile spread across his face as he saw the landscape pass them by. He rolled up the window, now feeling the chill of the night air. He sure was glad he was on the right side of his Pop Pop and Mr. Boney.

  There was no sympathy for Grady. In Alan’s mind, Grady was responsible for the Lee family’s deaths. Katie’s mother and father, had been wiped out at his command, not to mention Katie’s mother had been raped. He was also sure that Katie would have had the same fate, had Alan not gotten her away from the hospital. Alan also blamed Grady for Robert Santo’s death, and his family, leaving Angela orphaned. No, there was nothing but a simmering cauldron boiling within Alan’s gut, bubbling with rage.