The adults made a sweep of the house, and Fritz walked the streets a few minutes with PJ Bob. When they returned, Predator was serenading the girls with their favorite Christmas songs.
Fritz said, walking into the living room, “The streets are quiet except for the wind picking up. I say we have cookies and sing another Christmas song.” He sat with Cricket on the couch and got an elbow from his pregnant wife of four months for talking with a mouthful of cookies. She wondered how long she should still climb into the Mustang with him, or alone. “How about when my water bursts? That’ll be my last flight for a while,” she had recently told him.
It was during “Silent Night” that Cricket heard a strange descant over the melody. The girls heard it, too. Fritz asked Sister to take them to their bedroom, since it didn’t have a sliding door, and he and Cricket headed out the front door. The Old Coots went to the backyard.
The high-pitched wail of animal coyotes that Cricket knew well was being imitated by people. It sounded like dozens, and she wasn’t far off—swooping down the middle of the street a block distant were forty or fifty feverish singers who were running and yelping.
“Let’s get inside,” Fritz said, and they hurriedly turned down all the lanterns and blew out the candles.
Hell’s carolers were only a few houses away, but they kept to the center of the snow-covered street. In the darkened living room, Fritz and Cricket peered past the closed drapes as the nightmare blew past, a large group of teenagers in shorts, some bare-chested and carrying torches, their faces painted. They were dragging a sled, or so Cricket thought until they were abeam her and she realized no one was on the sled. The sled was a body, a large body, most likely a man, being dragged at a slow run by six guys, three per side, pulling ropes tied to the victim’s arms.
As Cricket rose full of fight, Fritz laid a hand on her arm.
“Too many. We can’t go out there and confront them. A couple of us can take Predator’s jeep and go to the police station. Someone might be there.”
They kept the lights extinguished and brought everyone back to the living room.
“Well, we still have cookies,” Fritz said to the girls. When the girls didn’t budge, the Bobs headed for the tray.
“Are we safe?” Lily asked.
Predator said, “Why, that’s the fairest question I’ve heard all night, Miss Lily.” She smiled and put her arm around her younger sister.
Predator wiped the strings of his violin with a soft orange cloth. “Even before these strange people appeared, you girls knew that we always have to be vigilant. Problem is, bad people do show up, but we’re ready and so are you. Thanks for giving us that heads-up a few minutes ago. We’re ready for them now.”
“They’re gone,” Cricket said. “At least for now. Fritz and I are going to make a check of the neighborhood, and when we return we’ll have more beautiful music waiting for us, and then off to bed before Santa arrives.”
The girls ran to Cricket and hugged her, saying that they had left enough treats in the kitchen for both the baby Jesus and Santa. There were plans on Christmas morning for Cub Bob to arrive dressed as Santa and hand out the girls’ presents.
Husband and wife opened and closed the front door quietly. They stood and listened. No distant sounds of the Coyotes. They walked toward the street on a clear night, crescent moon above. The path made by the body was only partially visible, due to the many revelers bringing up the rear and erasing the body’s tracks. However, what was evident was the blood smear that extended down the middle of the street. The mix of blood and snow made Cricket nauseous.
“Let’s go back in,” Fritz demanded, and Cricket shook her head no against his wishes even as a shot of acid reached her throat.
As they walked the sidewalk, they knew that the large man had been a real prize for the animals, flesh and blood galore for them to feast upon. They made it to the end of their street and could see the blood smear continue.
Some bit of gore glistened in the snow, and Fritz checked it out. He returned, hands in his pockets, head down.
“My God, Cricket, it’s the man’s eye. They were dragging him facedown.”
The next morning Santa handed out presents to the girls, who told the adults that a man who could sing as beautifully as Mr. Cub Bob was the perfect Santa for Christmas morning. Sister Marie read from Luke on the birth of Christ.
Predator Jones and the two Bobs had stayed overnight and made it to the police station, only to find out they lacked the manpower to go after hell’s citizens. They remained at the house while everyone else piled into Cricket’s Barracuda and went to morning Mass. Her ’67 Plymouth convertible had seen a lot of action since the EMP attack last May. The body had a few bullet holes in need of “plastic surgery” by PJ Bob once the weather warmed. The back window had also been shot out during a chase and recently replaced by Predator’s men working in a hangar at the airport.
Once inside the church, Lee Ann remarked, “A lot of soldiers decided to come to Mass.”
There were more soldiers than parishioners seated in the pews of the hundred-year-old church. Vandalism and attacks on people attending services were common, so the church’s doors were locked routinely except for Sunday mass, when a generator-powered furnace warmed the interior before the hour long service.
The girls were quiet on the trip home. Breaking the silence, Lily asked, “Will people stop believing in God if there are no more churches open?”
Sister Marie said, “Many people are carrying on their praying and traditions right from their homes, like we did this morning. We can’t always rely on the buildings, even though we love them. We carry our faith inside us.”
“But the church was so beautiful.” Lee Ann sighed. “I mean, people’s homes are beautiful too. But it was very special today going to Saint Michael’s. Even when I got sad thinking about my parents, God was close by, sitting in a pew right behind us. I just knew it.”
“He’s here with us now, Lee Ann,” Sister Marie answered.
Lee Ann pondered this, looking at the blue scarf knitted by Sister. She wrapped it around her neck, pulling the two lengths across her chest. With a smile Lily imitated her, having received a red scarf from Sister as well.
Once home, Fritz and Predator quickly checked the street. Lee Ann continued her scholarly train of thought: “God didn’t let the Coyotes get near the church this morning,” she said with authority.
“That’s because the soldiers were there,” Cricket replied, getting a nod from her husband, who sipped black coffee made by PJ Bob. Gas and water were available every other day, due to city officials’ cobbling generators together after the solar storm and before the unexpected Iranian attack. Electricity, however, was months away at best from being restored.
“I guess I worry that the Coyotes will eat all the good people,” Lee Ann said.
Cricket saw the pain on her husband’s face, and Lily put her hand to her mouth and started to cry. The young girls continued to face horrors that would paralyze most adults. Cricket held Lily’s and Lee Ann’s hands.
Sister Marie said, “In World War Two, a people were singled out for complete destruction. These were the Jews of Europe. Many were imprisoned and killed, and some who survived talked about God being there with them under the most terrible of circumstances: hunger, cold, beatings, and much worse. They no longer had their own soldiers guarding them or even friends who could help, because friends and even family members were in bad shape, too, and often could not give comfort. God didn’t abandon them. He led them through and out of the nightmare. Then Jews from around the world started the modern state of Israel, where they flourish today.”
“What’s the lesson here?” Fritz asked.
Wide-eyed, Lily wanted to answer, shooting her arm into the air like in class. She waited for her younger sister.
“We’re never alone,” Lee Ann said.
“Exactly.” Sister Marie smiled, bending down to hug Lee Ann, sitting on the couch.
&
nbsp; A car horn from the driveway made Cricket jump.
“They’re early.”
6
Dinner and New Appetites
Twenty minutes later, Cricket and company were escorted into a spacious dining room on the second floor of a Tudor in Mount Adams that overlooked the Ohio River. The girls loved the old 1950 Ford sedan, impressed with the high ceiling and the aroma, Lily’s word choice, and for the mix of worn leather and wood.
“If I drove around in this car all day, I’d have new dreams,” Lee Ann said, getting laughter from the passengers including the driver, John, who smiled broadly, though he had little to say on the short drive, often shrugging his shoulders when asked a question by Fritz or Cricket.
The dark oak table could easily accommodate more than a dozen diners, but now the number was eight, the additional three being Angel, Becca, and her mother, Elaine. Two female servers kept bringing out plates of fruit, vegetables, and bread.
“How are you baking bread?” Sister asked Elaine, ignoring Becca, who seemed not the least bit interested in the group’s excitement over the lovely house and food. Becca talked quietly with her driver alongside the picture window, blocking Cricket’s view. Angel listened and smiled as the two women quizzed Elaine on the food and the house.
“Besides the stove in the kitchen finishing our beautiful roast, we have two outdoor ovens, first floor, propane-powered, that made our bread today.” Elaine, tall, shapely, sternly elegant like her daughter, glided along the table observing the dishes, the layout of silverware, making sure the water glasses were full. “Our generator keeps us warm. And this summer we’ll install solar panels, like a lot of citizens already have. City Hall had fuel cells for back up and they’ve been moved to one of our hospitals. My husband’s decision. More importantly, I’ve threatened my daughter that I might move out and stay downtown at that nice old hotel that’s powered by them as well. The hotel owners installed the fuel cells a decade ago as a backup energy source. Very forward thinking, don’t you think? However, my daughter feels they now belong to the city, to the people. I don’t feel the same way.”
Becca rolled her eyes and her mom winked and smiled.
Cricket caught the exchange while admiring Elaine’s floor-length black knit dress. Same body as the daughter, but Mom’s the playful one.
“Elaine, this is all really wonderful.” Fritz took a quick glance at Becca, nodded his thanks, and then picked up his glass of champagne. “To our hosts and a blessed Christmas.”
Becca raised her glass without much cheer and walked over to the table. She wore dark slacks and a long-sleeved blouse. Tall and a lot of angles, Cricket mused, noticing her husband’s interest as well.
Elaine made a second toast. “For the full recovery of a beautiful city that I’ve always called home. And to a precious shipment of food that should soon be arriving.”
“From where?” Fritz asked.
“California,” Elaine replied. “Angel, please tell them about the wonderful deal you made with your business friends.”
“How did you mange such a deal?” Fritz said.
“We did hear that parts of California were untouched by the EMP strike,” Cricket said.
Becca looked to Angel. “Go ahead, it’s not top secret. I and the council fully endorsed the venture. We should be able to distribute more canned goods, dried meats, and maybe some fresh produce to the entire city by the end of the month.”
Angel, drink in hand, walked up to the young couple, smiling.
“When the world went dark, I had two trusted employees who agreed to go back to Mexico to check on our families and see if the EMP strike had reached our people in the southern part of the country. It hadn’t, but my people struggled all the same with lawlessness and more folks fleeing into Mexico from California. My managers made it to Sacramento and realized that most of the Central Valley was still producing food. That state hadn’t been hit with a complete blackout and the remaining power was being diverted for food production. However, cities like LA still suffered greatly due to their size. Of course, the men had my okay to arrange a deal to get a shipment of food to Cincinnati.”
“In exchange for what?” Fritz asked in amazement.
“Diamonds. You don’t think I’d be able to trade my furniture line for produce?” He laughed warmly at the absurdity. “I collect diamonds. It’s been a hobby forever. And yes, at least in California, they still have real buying power. My men got back here in September with mainly canned goods, rode in a lot of old trucks and cars, and a very old train. In the next shipment we’ve been promised fresh produce.”
Becca, enamored of the story, raised her wine glass and took a sip. “Another success story is the ability to keep our water purified. We have a two-year stock of chemicals, and the filtration system requires only average-size generators. Water treatment techies are doing their best to tie in fuel cells at their facility. As you know, the water doesn’t run twenty-four seven, but having it several days a week makes life much more bearable.”
Cricket said, “You’re fortunate. Cleveland suffered many losses over the summer due to contaminated water.”
Elaine changed the topic. “So, you two had an unexpected visitor yesterday.” She placed a slender hand on each girl’s shoulder. Lee Ann and Lily looked at each other, and Cricket watched them quickly sort through the day’s travails.
Lee Ann popped off. “Oh, I knew Boots would never hurt us. She was so beautiful, but real scared. Cricket did the right thing.”
“Boots?” Angel interrupted the two girls now talking over each other. “My beautiful Sabrina.”
“Well,” Lee Ann said, “at the moment she sure looked like a Boots with those big furry paws.”
“‘Sabrina,’ ‘Boots,’ we can decide later the appropriate name. I’ll take ‘Boots’ under consideration.” Angel graciously bowed before the child.
The girls clapped. Sister smiled, saying, “I agree with the girls. Even though I was terrified, I sensed that she didn’t mean to harm us. I take it she escaped from the zoo?”
“Yes, and she’s two months pregnant,” Angel asserted.
“Cricket’s pregnant,” Lee Ann said, getting a loud reprimand from her sister.
Elaine clapped softly, and Angel stared in wonder at Cricket. Becca simply looked distracted and gave a smile that momentarily tightened her features.
“Well, my beloved snow leopard and Cricket do have a lot in common.” Angel turned toward Cricket with the savviness of a debate moderator, all charm and all neutral. “You freed her. She didn’t resort to the baser impulse to attack and maul. You gave her an option, and she took it. I have to say, I’m somewhat jealous. How about you, Becca?”
Becca took her seat across from Cricket, eyeing Angel. “Hardly. Playing with big animals is your thing.”
“And your thing is?” Elaine threw back hard to her daughter, still standing as the large roast was carried in by a short woman, who bit her lower lip, struggling to keep the tray level.
“The welfare of the people of this city. My father would not have had to ask.”
Fritz jumped up to help the server, and Becca rolled her eyes disapprovingly. Cricket knew the look: a guy acting too much like a guy.
Everyone was quiet for the main course, and a deeper silence prevailed when Sister Marie offered to say grace. Of Cricket and company’s new acquaintances, Elaine respectfully bowed her head, as did Angel, while Becca impatiently waited for the archaic custom to be finished.
After many words of appreciation and little conversation during dinner, Cricket started a round of questions as the dinner plates were removed and replaced with smaller dessert china.
“So you were elected before the EMP attack?” Cricket questioned Becca.
“I’m thirty. That would have been some accomplishment.”
Elaine said, “My husband and a few councilmen were killed a month after the blackout. After several emergency meetings, city council—very impressed with my daughter’s wis
dom for survival—appointed her as mayor.”
“My mother is less than thrilled.” Becca eyed her mom with contempt.
“Dear, a lot has changed in the last six months. Other than a good dinner and glass of wine, not much thrills me in this bleak, brave new world, except finding good, decent people again.”
“Now, ladies, we all make do,” Angel said, trying to counsel both women. Cricket had questions for him as well. He added, “Circumstances change.”
“My father wasn’t self-indulgent; he wasn’t a crybaby.” Even though Becca faced her guests, this soliloquy was all for her mother. “He went to work every day to make the city and the world a better place.”
“Your father should be commended,” Sister Marie said. “He sounds like a very moral, hardworking man.”
Elaine dryly said, “Becca, I can find no fault with your description, but your dad wanted to eliminate plastic bags, not people.”
“You’re accusing me of killing people?” Becca shot back.
“Not directly, dear, like the Coyotes. But piecemeal, deciding willy-nilly who the good guys and bad guys are.”
Becca rose from the table, and Sister Marie rose also, saying, “I’m taking the girls down to the kitchen for a little sightseeing.” The two women suspended their argument until the girls were out of earshot.
“That’s insane,” Becca spat. “We have real monsters roaming these streets. Taking lives. Have another drink, you’ll figure it out.”
“We’ve been here only a week,” Fritz said. “And we’ve seen the Coyotes’ destruction.”
“They’ll be cleaned up soon,” Becca said. “The real problem is the Patriarchs.”
Elaine’s shoulders drooped as she released a long sigh, deflating into a much older woman, the years catching up in an instant.
“Labels are unimportant,” Angel said. “It’s protecting people, especially the children, that’s so important. Elaine, you know how it is. There are men and women unwilling to participate in our community’s survival.” He turned to Fritz and Cricket. “They sabotage us at every turn. The Patriarchs steal, hurt, and kill every good thing Becca has brought to the city of Cincinnati.”
American Blackout (Book 3): Gangster Town Page 3
