by Lou Cadle
Arch was pouring water. Everyone waited until he had pushed the mugs to the center of the table. He leaned against the stove again, where a percolator was just beginning to make noises. “Sometimes. But I don’t think that’s as important as two other matters. One is the kids. The other is Sierra’s crazy idea.” Before she could protest, he said, “Good crazy. Not crazy-crazy.”
“What’s the difference?” Joan said, giving Sierra a worried glance.
“It’s crazy but good. Bold. And maybe the right thing to do.” He explained about her desire to go back to Payson. “I think if we do this, the sooner, the better.”
Pilar’s face grew more and more worried. “And it will have to be Curt and Sierra, won’t it? None of the rest of us is up to it.”
“I might be,” Kelly said.
“No,” Sierra said. “We need you too much, Kelly. Dev needs you here. Curt and I are the right choices if we do it tomorrow or the next day.”
Arch said, “And probably the next couple days are the right time to do it. Before they have a chance to regroup and make a solid plan.”
Pilar said, “She and Dev were lucky last time. I’m afraid they might not be this time.”
“It might be they won’t even be walking guard routes, or that they’re walking more,” Arch said. “We’ll have to go and look at least to know that much.”
“They will be,” Joan said. “They need to keep people intimidated. Without the guns and the patrols being a reminder, I think people would stand up to them—at least the ones who aren’t worrying about a husband or son being held in jail and at risk of suffering from a rebellion. So I’m betting they are still patrolling, for that reason alone.”
Arch said, “If it were me, I’d put men out in greater numbers, on guard more places.”
Sierra said, “They could even be getting ready to follow their men and see what happened up here.”
Pilar said, “I wonder if they didn’t send out two attacking groups, one on each main road. You might encounter another group just like this one coming back from that direction.”
“We’d be on the lookout for that,” Sierra said.
“There’s one more thing,” Arch said.
“What?”
“I’ve been thinking about these grenades. What those are.” He hesitated, looking worried.
He had everyone’s attention.
“What, Arch?” Kelly said.
“Those are police rounds. It’s been nagging at me. I think maybe the Payson invaders might be Phoenix police. The bulletproof vest you found supports the theory.”
“Jesus,” Pilar whispered.
Joan said, “I can’t believe that. I mean—Emily. All those other girls. What they did with the children today.”
Arch shrugged. “In desperate times, men change.”
Sierra said, “But they didn’t kill any of us. I mean, wouldn’t cops be better shots?”
Pilar said, “Maybe we’re just that good at defense.”
Joan said, “Are you sure of this, Arch?”
“Well, no. You checked their pockets, Sierra. Did you find any ID that suggested that I’m right? A badge, a business card?”
She shook her head.
Pilar said, “So maybe they only attacked the police department and stole the grenades.”
Kelly said, “Or raided an abandoned police department storeroom. Who is to say the cops stayed in their jobs when things went bad in Phoenix?”
“That could be,” Arch said. He turned and poured himself a cup of coffee but didn’t join them at the table. He continued to lean against the counter.
“It makes me more nervous about letting Sierra go.”
“Pilar,” Sierra said, her voice gentle. “You really can’t stop me. And you shouldn’t. If it’s the right thing for everyone, then I should go.”
Kelly said, “One other thing.”
Everyone looked at her, but she was looking straight at Sierra.
“If you do go, you need to keep a rein on your impulses. No daring rescues. No unilateral action. Right?”
Sierra could feel herself blushing. “I understand.”
“I know you understand, honey,” Kelly said. “But you need to do more than understand. If we decide the two of you are to go, you need to talk to Curt about any of your brilliant ideas. He’ll be the voice of reason to help you rein yourself in.”
“Besides,” Arch said, “he’s a hell of a good woodsman. You’d be foolish not to listen to him in a guerilla action.”
Joan said, “I guess that’s what it is, isn’t it? Guerilla warfare.” Then she checked the kitchen clock. “I don’t want to leave the children alone too long. I’m afraid it’ll be a rough night for all of us.”
“Do you need help?” Kelly said. “I don’t want to leave Devlin, but....”
“I could use any extra blankets, is what I could use. They’re going to be sleeping on the floors, there’s so many of them.”
“We can take in a few,” Pilar said.
“No, I think they’ll feel better having each other,” Joan said. “They went through something horrific together. I think it’ll be more traumatic to split them up at this point.”
“I feel bad I haven’t done anything to help you with them,” Sierra said.
“We’ve all been busy,” Pilar said. “No reason to feel bad.”
“Arch,” Kelly said, “go grab the extra blankets from the linen closet, would you? And the quilt from Devlin’s room. He doesn’t need it. Nights are warm enough. I put his quilt in the closet when we made up the bunk beds.”
“Okay. All of the blankets?”
She nodded. “There are a lot of children.”
“I’m putting three per bed, with the sofa pulled out into a bed. I’ll sleep on the floor myself, if I can get any sleep,” Joan said.
Arch left to collect blankets.
Pilar said, “So we’re tabling the plan for Payson?”
“Let’s sleep on it,” Kelly suggested. “I don’t want anyone to go haring off down there without us thinking it through completely.”
“These are heavy, Joan,” Arch said, coming in with a stack of blankets and quilts that reached his chin. “I’ll take them over for you.”
“Let me and Sierra do it,” Pilar said. “We’re going that direction anyway.”
“Joan and I can,” Sierra said to her dad. “Take care of your ribs, and they’ll heal faster.” If she didn’t make it back alive from a raid on Payson, her father would have no one to defend him. No one had thought of it when they were lecturing her, but that would be her motivation to be more cautious than she had been before.
Everyone said their goodnights. Sierra and Joan walked up the road in the dark. “Should have brought a flashlight,” Joan said.
“My cell phone is in my pocket, but our arms are full,” Sierra said. “But I know the road pretty well.”
“We still need to do something with those bodies out on the road,” Joan said.
“Yeah.”
“Do you—what? Bury them?”
“They buried the first ones. Well, no, the first one, the sheriff came out and took. The next bunch, buried. The third bunch, cremated. We’ll probably burn these too, if we can do it safely. Middle of the highway might work if the wind slows down tomorrow morning.”
“God, Sierra.”
“What?”
“You’re so cool about this.”
“Used to it, I guess.” Though she did feel cold, in her heart. Or felt nothing, really. It was all a matter of expedience. Shot at? Shoot back. Have bodies to deal with? Then deal with them. She held not an ounce of sympathy for the men she had shot. They’d gotten what they asked for.
“I worry what all this will do to my girls,” Joan said.
“It’s already done bad enough to Emily.”
“I know,” Joan said, sounding very sad indeed.
“Is she talking yet?”
“No. Maybe having other children around will bring her out o
f herself.”
Sierra wasn’t so sure, but she didn’t voice her doubts aloud. “Here’s your driveway.”
“Funny that we call them that, even though we’re not driving up them any more.”
“Is Rudy armed?” Sierra didn’t want to be shot at as they walked up.
“No. Except for this rifle I have, the other guns are locked up. I didn’t want an accident with all those children.”
Sierra had expected to hear noise as they approached the house, kids yelling or playing or crying or something, but it was quiet as they came to the front door. Joan called out. “Misha? Rudy? Open the door please.”
The door was flung open, and over Joan’s shoulder, Sierra could see the blur of Misha’s retreat. She followed Joan in and dropped the blankets on the sofa, trailing Joan, who was trailing Misha.
In the kitchen, Rudy had the kids involved in something. Were they acting out a drama? The table was pushed back, and most of the chairs were on it. On one of two remaining chairs, a boy of nine or ten stood. The other kids watched. The play—or whatever it was—seemed to have no words. The kid was miming. He stopped as he saw Joan and Sierra enter, but Rudy said, “It’s okay, Brent. Just finish.”
The boy turned his back to them and folded his arms. Then he hung his head—a theatrical gesture—and that was all.
“Wow,” Rudy said. And he started clapping. As did all the kids. Then he looked right at Joan and said, as assertive as she’d ever seen him be, “We’ll be with you in a moment. Ten or fifteen minutes, tops.” It was a dismissal.
Joan hesitated, but Sierra thought Rudy might be doing something useful in there, so she tugged at Joan’s shirtsleeve and backed out of the room.
Joan said, “What’s he doing?”
Sierra motioned her into the bedroom and mostly shut the door after her. “I don’t know, but they don’t seem to be suffering for it.”
“What if it’s some form of—whatever? Play therapy?”
“What if it is?”
“You can’t practice therapy without a license.”
Sierra laughed. And it was a cruel laugh at heart, and she felt immediately bad for it, but she explained her thinking to Joan. “So police are gone—or corrupted child-rapists—and the fire department is gone and there’s no Internet, phone service, electrical grid, or gasoline. Government is either gone or irrelevant, but you think therapy licensing agencies are still functioning?”
“Well, no, but—”
“But nothing. Our doctor is a housewife. Our military commander is a prepper with a short fuse. Our higher educational department killed himself. Catch up. It’s not that world any more.”
Joan glared at her.
“Sorry. That was harsh. I’m tired. I’ve killed a lot of men today. I could have killed some of those kids in there easily, and I was worried about that every time I fired my rifle. I’m stressed out. The kids are worse than stressed out, and I think that they are engaged, and not crying, and sitting still like they are means he’s doing something right in there.”
“I didn’t.”
“Didn’t what?”
“Kill anyone. I couldn’t bear to risk the kids, so I aimed high.” She looked ashamed. “On purpose.”
“Okay,” Sierra said. “And if the kids wouldn’t have been brought to shield the men, would you have aimed well and killed then?”
“I think so. I can’t promise you I wouldn’t be staying up all night worrying about having done so, but I’d have done my job.”
“You did enough of it. Kept them pinned down so the rest of us could take them out.”
Joan looked long and hard at her. “I worry about you,” she finally said.
“Don’t. I’m okay.” And she was. The worst part of her life was grief about Bodhi, and she didn’t have time enough to wallow in that for long. Even her mornings, which used to be hardest, waking without being greeted by his joy to see her, had gotten better. With Pilar hurting, she had more to do, and she didn’t lie in bed and fret. She simply rose and got about the day’s work. “You did fine. We all did fine. We survived. That’s the most important thing.”
“Is it?”
“It is. Don’t forget that. Protecting Emily and Misha is important. Protecting your hens and garden and stored food is important. Keeping the solar panels clean and the batteries charged is important. Everything else comes way after that. Way down the list.”
“This is all backassward.”
“What is?” Sierra was fading and wanted to go home and crawl into bed. She’d be on guard duty half the night.
“I’m used to counseling troubled teens in my job. I’m not used to getting counsel from them.”
“It’s a strange new world,” Sierra said.
“It is that. Okay.” She nodded as if deciding she would accept that fact.
“See you tomorrow morning. I hope I have your support about going down to shoot some in Payson.”
Joan shook her head slowly but said, “Okay. If that’s what you want.”
“What I want doesn’t really come into it any more. Wants are luxuries we can’t afford to indulge. Goodnight.”
She thought about it as she walked home. It was true; life was more a matter of musts than wants. Or maybe it was best to say that her wants and her musts had merged into each other. She must keep herself alive, Pilar alive, and her neighbors and co-defenders safe. And to keep herself and Pilar alive, there were the hens and garden to tend, skills to learn, and guard watches to stand.
Three months ago, she had been a normal girl about to graduate high school, thinking of her choice of potential boyfriends, jobs, grades, and graduation parties. It seemed like the life of a totally different person, like the life of a princess from a fairy tale, and about as relevant to the real world.
Strange thing was, she didn’t really miss it.
A long night was ahead, with a four-hour shift of keeping watch for that car coming back. She supposed tomorrow would be too soon to mount a guerilla attack on Payson, with her and Curt both short on sleep. But the morning after? That was a possibility. Go down there, kill a few more, and retreat here, to her home and family.
She looked forward to the mission. And even more, to completing it. At that point, maybe they’d be safe.
The End
Bled Dry
Lou Cadle
Copyright © 2017 by Cadle-Sparks Books
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Author’s Note
Also by Lou Cadle
Chapter 1
They stood around the pyre of invader bodies, talking about the plan for liberating Payson. Sierra had suggested it. Arch was for it, Curt was willing if everyone else agreed, and only Joan and Pilar were hesitant.
Pilar said, “It’s a road we’ve never been down before. It’s vigilantism.”
Arch snorted. “It’s not like we can report the problem to the police. There are no police.”
“Or government of any kind, so far as we know,” Kelly said.
“I know,” Pilar said. He sounded sad. “I know it’s practical. I’m not arguing that.”
Sierra knew her dad was trou
bled by the morality of it. She herself was not.
Dev wasn’t here. He was awake but in bed at Kelly’s order. Sierra hadn’t yet had a chance to visit him this morning. Rudy was reprising his babysitting role, so it was only the grownups out here. They all had blankets in hand to put out any sparks that might fly off the burning bodies and set the dry pines ablaze. Not all the hoses in the neighborhood connected end to end would reach out this far from the Quinn pump.
Kelly patted Pilar’s arm once. She had developed two black eyes overnight but otherwise seemed fine. Her non-dominant arm had caught the grenade shrapnel, and she said she could still fire a rifle. She waved a patch of smoke away and said, “I still think we need at least a day to plan things more carefully. Like deciding how long to wait before we mount a rescue. Or how to communicate if we go in from more than one direction. Maybe the walkie-talkie device can reach across town, but we’d have to test it first. If we wait another day, I can go too. Another two days, and Dev will probably be okay.”
“That stretches out the defense of this neighborhood even more,” Joan said. “I’m a little nervous being left with such a big responsibility if all of the healthy people go to Payson.”
“I can shoot better every day,” Arch said. “And I will, if I need to.”
“I can manage a handgun,” Pilar said. “But of course that limits my range. It might be better to leave me here and let Joan go with you.”
Sierra said to Kelly, “There’s really nothing to plan. I mean, we can plan, but everything we know might have changed since Dev and I were down there. I know where I saw them walking guard duty, and when, and Joan knows when they came to her neighborhood for food, but if they’ve switched it up....” She shrugged.
“That’s true. They could be patrolling the woods now,” Kelly said. “There might be extra patrols since you shot the child molesters from up there.”
Sierra saw Joan wince at the reminder. “Look,” she said, buying time, trying to muster her best argument to convince Joan and Pilar that they should attack.
