Neighborhood Watch: After the EMP

by EE Isherwood

  “You’re the new guy, what do you know? They’re lying to get you to hate me.”

  “No, you’ve done that all by yourself. You’ve yelled at me, pointed a gun in my face, frightened enough of your friends that they came to me to help them get home, and now, for the cherry on top, you’ve robbed from my friends. Tell me, where in that list should I not take a dislike to you?”

  “I told you,” he sighed, “it wasn’t me.”

  Luke would be there soon. If my theory was wrong, and I didn’t get the proof I needed, Trevor might end up getting away with his night time activities. If he was guilty, as all the evidence suggested, we’d have a whole different discussion. Either way, there was still a chance to make him cooperate willingly.

  “You know,” I began, “I actually relate to what you’re talking about. As the new guy to your street, I found out a lot of my neighbors had gotten the wrong first impressions about me. They thought I was a single, middle-aged guy who was living out his mid-life crisis. I live alone, and I didn’t get a chance to talk to many of them, so they naturally thought I was like all the other jerks driving sportscars around this part of Florida. However, once they got to know me, everything changed. I wasn’t the person they feared I was. They found out I was actually a pretty nice guy.”

  “Whatever...” he said in a glum voice.

  I shook my head.

  “You don’t get it. I’m throwing you life vests, ropes, and anything that floats. I’m trying to help you join the rest of us on the street.”

  “Give it up, dude. It’s great that you can turn on the charm for the others. I told you I didn’t take nothing, and you can’t prove otherwise. Like you said, the power is out, so no cameras were recording for your proof.”

  “Knock, knock,” Luke said as he came in behind me.

  I nearly spun around with anticipation but didn’t want to take my eyes off Trevor. I’d requested Luke bring me the black duffel bag the two thieves had abandoned on Drummond’s kitchen table, and I’d staked everything on whatever logo I’d find on the bag. He held it so I could see the white markings, as if he’d figured out my plan.

  “This was the only thing on the table,” Luke said. “Is this what you wanted?”

  “Yep,” I said with a mile-wide grin. “Would you mind setting it over there?” I pointed to the black duffel bag by the back door.

  “Knock, knock, again,” Carmen said from the kitchen. “Mind if we pop in?”

  “The fuck is this?” Trevor demanded to know.

  Carmen and Ben walked in, looking around, as if on a tour given by a realtor. The Cuban woman hurried over to stand by me, but Ben leaned against the kitchen counter, obviously fighting his hangover.

  “Luke said he needed witnesses for something,” Carmen said to me. “So, here we are.”

  “Great idea,” I said to Luke.

  Confident I was about to hit a home run, it did make a lot of sense to have backup. I still didn’t know who else was on the upper level, but all it would take was one order from Trevor and things could get ugly in a hurry. Having more people on my side would make the boy think twice about being stupid.

  Luke set the bag next to its twin by the back door.

  “So, Trevor, you want to explain why the thieves used a hockey bag identical to yours? As you already know, this was left on the kitchen table of my friend’s empty home.”

  “Son of a bitch,” Trevor said in a defeated voice. “Pike, you asshole, what were you thinking?”

  “You gave it to--,” a voice replied from upstairs.

  “Shut up!” Trevor cut him off.

  Luke, Carmen, and Ben lined up behind me.

  “Look, you got caught. You should be thanking me for not shooting your heads off last night. I already told you there are no cops around. No detectives. I could have put buckshot in your backs and dumped you both in the canal.”

  “Then you can’t send us to jail, either,” he said, eyes lighting up with hope.

  “No, but I can help you make this right. You’re going to show me where you stuck Levar’s TV. Then you’re going to show me whatever else you took from his house.”

  I used the shotgun to motion him to get moving.

  He remained seated on the steps.

  “I have every reason to believe you’ve got it, and if you don’t give it up,” I said in a calm voice, “I’m going to tear this house to the foundation looking for it. I guarantee I’ll break every item you own during the search. I’m a clumsy guy, after all.”

  Trevor finally got up. After looking upstairs, he waved for Pike to join him. A large young man came down, a guy who’d been on Trevor’s lawn the day before, then they both went through the kitchen and into the garage.

  I followed, wary they were going to try something sneaky.

  “This is all his shit.” Trevor pulled a white sheet off a giant flat-screen television and other small valuables on the floor next to a workbench. “Take it and go.”

  “Oh, no,” I replied. “That’s not how this works. You took the shit, you’re going to return the shit. You’re going to put everything back where you found it, so when my friend comes home, he’ll have no idea you were there. I want his television back up on the wall.”

  “But you just said it doesn’t even work!” he moaned. His whiny voice precisely matched the kid who’d fled from Drummond’s place and loudly complained during his swim in the canal.

  “I told you, this is how you make things right. You took it down, now you’re going to put it back up. While you’re doing that, think about rejoining society. If you show you’re willing to play ball with us, I think you’ll find we’re a pretty forgiving bunch. But, if you want to remain a titan of douchebaggery, maybe you should consider what I said about no one being on the other end of an emergency call.” I brought his attention back to my shotgun.

  Carmen crossed her arms, as if daring him to disagree.

  Trevor’s face was red with rage, but he was surrounded by guns and caught in his own lies, so he was unable to get out of doing whatever I said.

  “Pike, get the wheelbarrow. We’ll roll the shit over there.” Trevor picked up a DVD player which had been next to the TV.

  Over the next few minutes, the four of us watched as Trevor and Pike loaded all the treasures into the wheelbarrow and then headed out of the garage.

  “Wait a sec,” I ordered. “There is one more thing, and I’m not playing around when I say this…”

  Everyone stopped.

  “Until we’re sure of your allegiance to this neighborhood, I’m going to have to take your pistol and any other guns you have in the house.”

  “No fucking way!” Trevor snapped.

  “Yeah, way,” I replied. “What kind of idiot would I be if I let a known criminal carry a firearm around me and my neighbors? I don’t think any of them want that, either.”

  I glanced at the others only long enough to see them nod in agreement.

  “I’m not a thief, so I won’t take your guns permanently. You’ll get them back when all this EMP stuff blows over.” I’d deliberately given him a timeline for their return, so he wouldn’t turn desperate and try to get them back himself.

  Trevor remained silent.

  “I know you have the Ruger LC-9,” I said. “Do you have any others?”

  Still nothing.

  “Fair enough. We’ll do this another way.”

  I turned toward the shy young woman, who stood inside the threshold of the kitchen door.

  “Ma’am, do you know where Trevor keeps the pistol he pointed at us yesterday?” I asked.

  “Don’t tell him shit!” Trevor yelled.

  She made sure to stand far inside the door, so Trevor couldn’t see her nod in agreement.

  “Does he have other guns up there?” I asked.

  The girl shrugged.

  “Well, do your best. If you see any, please bring those down, too.”

  It was dangerous business taking someone’s guns, even a smalltim
e criminal like Trevor, so I tried to leverage the advantages at my disposal. If there were more of Trevor’s friends upstairs, they could jump me or Luke if we tried to go up there to collect the guns ourselves. It would also make us look like fools if the place was loaded with weapons, but we didn’t find all of them. I would have to rip the house down to bare wood to search the walls and floors for contraband to do it right, and despite the similar threat earlier about Levar’s stuff, I didn’t really have that kind of time. However, by asking the girl, I tried to tap into her obvious distaste for how Trevor had been treating her. She willingly admitted knowing where the kid’s pistol was located, so if I could at least get that without any risk to me or my friends, it would be a huge victory.

  The girl went back inside.

  “We’ll see what she comes back with,” I said to Trevor. “Consider yourself on hardcore probation from here on out. If I see you even touching another gun, we’ll run you out of town on a rail like they did in the Old West.”

  He cursed incoherently as he picked up the wheelbarrow handles.

  “I’ll be over to check your work later,” I said in a matter-of-fact tone.

  “Screw you,” Trevor mumbled, but I locked eyes with him until he looked away. Seconds later, he shoved the wheelbarrow to move out.

  I could have called him out for talking back, but I was more than satisfied with what Luke and I had accomplished. Not only did we stop Trevor and his accomplice from looting Drummond’s place, we did enough detective work to find the two thieves. I’d of course tell Levar about the incident in his house, but at least he could take some comfort knowing his stuff was safe.

  “You think he has more guns?” Luke whispered as we watched them go.

  “I didn’t see any in their waistbands or pockets,” I replied, “so I’m taking it on faith the girl will bring down anything lying around upstairs, and we’ll get the obvious stuff. At this point, I think this is the best outcome we can hope for, short of shooting him dead…”

  I held Luke’s surprise for a few seconds, then let him go.

  “I’m joking!”

  “Nice one, Frank. You got me.”

  It was a way to be funny, but deep down I wondered if that’s where we were headed with him. The lack of law worked both ways. Criminals had free rein to do criminal things, so law-abiding people had no choice but to become the law enforcement. My books had touched on such topics, but never in exactly the same way as in real life, so I had to wing it.

  A minute later, the girl came out through the garage holding two pistols with just the tips of her fingers, like they were dead mice.

  One of them was the Ruger LC-9 I recognized as Trevor’s. The other was a small Taurus.

  “Thanks, Bonnie, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” she peeped. “You’re welcome. That other gun was Pike’s.”

  “That’s--” I started to say.

  Without waiting, she hurried back into the kitchen out of sight. I guessed she didn’t want Trevor to see her helping the enemy.

  The girl was gone before any of the others could even say a word.

  “Where’d she go?” Carmen asked.

  “Back inside,” I said with disappointment. I would have preferred she left what was probably a fairly unsatisfying relationship.

  “Too bad,” Carmen added.

  “Alright, folks,” I said to Luke, Ben, and Carmen. “Let’s head back.”

  We walked alongside the parked cars on the driveway until we went into the street. My neighbors still stood outside from our earlier meeting, but they weren’t all gathered together. Penny and her daughter sat on the bench in the middle of the circle, while Luke’s family and the two redheads stood on their driveway.

  The only person missing was Evelyn. She’d evidently gone home while Ben came inside Trevor’s house with Carmen. Perhaps Penny hadn’t been able to get through to her, after all.

  There was also someone new.

  “Who is that?” I said as I walked into the street.

  A young boy leisurely rode his bicycle along the middle of our lane, heading for the cul-de-sac. I met him close to Trevor’s Ferrari and flagged him down.

  “Cool car, mister,” he said when he slowed and stopped.

  “It’s not mine,” I replied.

  “Bummer.”

  “Why are you riding out here alone?” I asked. “It’s dangerous to be away from your house. Where do you live?”

  The boy was probably no older than ten, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt. He’d approached like he didn’t have a care in the world. He pointed behind him. “I live back there.”

  There were no houses on the other end of our block, so I took it to mean he lived on one of the parallel streets in our subdivision.

  “Come here for a second, will you?” I waved him to follow me over to Luke’s.

  “What’s your name?” I asked.

  “Brendan,” the kid replied.

  “Well, Brendan, last night we had a barbeque with lots of goodies. We also had a lot of leftovers. Would you like some ice cream to take home?”

  I motioned to Melanie, hoping she knew what I wanted.

  “Sure!” he replied in an instant.

  “Okay, I’ll share some with you, but you have to promise me you won’t eat it until you get home. Does that sound like a fair deal?”

  “I can do that,” he assured me.

  Melanie came over with one of the half-thawed tubs of ice cream. It still felt cold enough to be frozen, but only barely. There was no way we could eat all the containers before they thawed, so helping the kid was a decent alternative to throwing it away.

  “Here you go,” Melanie said in a friendly mom voice.

  “Remember to get back home before you eat any of it,” I reminded him.

  Brendan gently placed the item in a basket on the front of his bike, then he put his feet on the pedals and got started. Instead of going back the way he’d come, the child rode toward the circle where Penny and Daisy still hung out.

  “Whee!” he exclaimed as he did a tight turn around the central bushes.

  “Hi!” Daisy said with a wave.

  “Hiya!” Brendan replied.

  When he came out of the turn, the boy pedaled hard back toward me.

  “You’re going home, right?” I asked. “Don’t let it melt!”

  “I’ll go as fast as I can!” he yelled.

  The kid pumped as he whizzed past, making good on his promise.

  Carmen sidled up to me, enveloping me in her vanilla-scented perfume.

  “You have kids, don’t you?” she asked.

  “Nope. I wanted some for a long time, but I never found the time to get married. I worked my ass off the past thirty years so I could afford my dream car and a decent retirement home at the end of a peaceful street. I kind of missed the wife and kids part of life.”

  “Frank, you might not know this, but you don’t have to be married to have kids. It really surprises me you don’t, too, since you act like you’ve been around them your whole life.”

  “I guess I’m protective is all. Drive a truck for a while, and you’ll see a lot of kids on the streets. I don’t like seeing them get left behind, you know?”

  Carmen smiled.

  “Yeah, I do. Hey, if you’re offering your services, I’d like you to come over to my place to tell me if it’s safe. I heard a rumor you’re like the sheriff around here…” She giggled playfully.

  I shot at her with two finger guns, since she’d mentioned the gesture annoyed her, in order to keep up our humorous back and forth.

  “I’ll be right over, ma’am.”

  CHAPTER 13

  I followed Carmen into her showroom-quality garage. Unlike all the clutter and moving boxes in mine, or the shelves packed with sports equipment in Luke’s, her three-bay garage was almost empty. The floor was polished to the point of appearing slick and wet. A cherry-red Mercedes S-class convertible had been parked in the middle, as far as possible from the empty white
walls. It was also spotless, as if the last thing Carmen did before the EMP was wash and wax it.

  “Wow, you’ve got good taste in cars,” I commented.

  “Thanks. My no-good husband had to buy it for me, along with this house, as part of our divorce settlement. You don’t think it’s too much, do you?” She turned around and smiled, as if daring me to say yes.

  “Not at all,” I answered truthfully. My only complaint was that it wasn’t American, but most people these days didn’t care about where cars came from, so it wasn’t a big deal.

  She led me across her darkened garage and hopped on the first step to go into her home, but she froze in place, which in turn caused me to bump her hip.

  “Sorry,” I said.

  “It was my fault.” Carmen spoke with a bit of mystery, “because I need to mention something. Before we go in, please remember what you just said about having good taste, okay?”

  The beautiful Cuban woman had to be teasing me, since nothing about her was anything but classy and tasteful. Obviously, her home was nice, but so was her lawn and sculpted shrubbery around it. Her garage was immaculate. Somehow, despite the early hour, her hair was styled to perfection, and her face was naturally stunning. She had nothing to worry about.

  “I promise I’ll remember what I said.”

  She studied my reaction for a few moments, then she turned with a flourish and continued into her big kitchen.

  Once I got inside, it took about five seconds to realize her warning had been justified.

  Her place had the same sprawling, open floor plan as mine. The spacious kitchen had a large central island, a classy glass dining table, and expensive tile floors. Stainless steel appliances and granite countertops screamed high-dollar and nothing-but-the-best. It was exactly what you’d expect in the home of a woman with fine taste.

  Except for the décor.

  “Holy. Shit.”

  “Remember what you said,” she cooed.

  Dozens of little cat statues had been packed onto the shelves and countertops, barely leaving space for toasters and electric mixers. Cats graced the dish towels hanging over the sink and the oven mitts on top of the stove. Twenty kitty magnets hung on the fridge, though they weren’t holding anything. Someone had even painted a dark gray Siamese cat on the wall behind the oven, so it appeared to be reclining up there.