by Ryan Schow
Kenley turned and said, Good morning.
“Good morning, Kenley,” Leighton said. Trixie turned around a moment later. “Morning, Trixie.”
How’d you sleep? Trixie asked.
“Actually, pretty good,” Leighton said. “I can’t seem to wake up, though.”
The two women smiled, then Trixie asked, Do you want to take the skillets out to the fire?
Leighton nodded, then kissed Roscoe’s head and sat him down.
If he was whining, she couldn’t hear it. She took the two skillets, the oil, and a hot mitt outside to the table on the wooden deck.
Out in the yard, Gator was stoking the morning fire while Hudson was pouring freshly-boiled water over coffee grinds in a filter.
The smell of the campfire early in the morning, along with the country air, brought back good memories of her youth.
Great timing, Hudson said over his shoulder. You want a fresh cup?
She nodded, then showed him the skillet and oil. He pointed to the wooden picnic table, indicating she should set everything there. She sat the items on the table beside a large bowl of cubed potatoes and a smaller bowl of fresh eggs.
“Campfire hash?” she asked.
Hudson nodded, poured her a cup of coffee. Leighton thanked him and took the brew. Instead of drinking the coffee herself, she felt that Gator deserved the first cup.
Leighton caught his eye, lifted her cup to him; he waved to her from the freshly-stoked campfire. With his battle-ready body, his big beard, and a beanie pulled over a thick head of hair, he was like a bear she wanted near her. She felt safer being with him, but she also knew that sooner than later, she’d need to walk this world on her own. If he didn’t kick her out of the proverbial nest, she decided she would kick herself out today or tomorrow.
Pointing to the cup of coffee in her hand, she said, “This is for you.”
He nodded, then gave her the thumb’s up, which made her smile. She loved the way he was interacting with her, how he was making up his own form of communication. He had quickly found a way to use the simplest gestures and the fewest words, coupled with facial gestures, to get his message across. This made her appreciate him that much more.
Hudson poured another cup of coffee for her. He offered her a sugar cube. She nodded, then said, “Yes, please.” He used a small set of tongs to drop it into her coffee. She thanked him again, then nudged his arm in a show of appreciation.
She walked both cups of coffee out to Gator, her eyes on the brute of a man, the smile on her face perched there on its own. The former soldier was like her beefy pseudo-uncle/bodyguard, the closest thing she had to family at the moment.
The campfire was now becoming a solid bed of cooking embers. Gator took the coffee then gave her a half-hug and a kiss on the temple. He then waited for her to face him before he spoke.
How are you? he asked.
“Good,” she said. “Ready to figure out what’s next, though.”
You and me both.
“How stressed out are you?” Leighton asked. “On a scale of one to ten?”
About an eleven? Maybe a twelve?
She laughed and said, “Yeah, me too. We’ll figure it out, though.” She patted his arm and said, “Everyone knows how generous you’re being, but we also realize the strain this is putting on you and your emergency supplies.”
He seemed to breathe easier just knowing people understood the burden he was bearing, and what it was costing him.
I didn’t want to say anything, but yeah…I’m starting to wonder about the long-term plan. Five to ten years if we never get our power back on.
“I’ve been thinking about the next five to ten days,” she said. “I think I’m going to head back to the house later today to figure out a Plan A, B, and C.”
You’re not in this alone, Leighton, he said.
“I know,” she replied. “I appreciate you saying it, though.”
I’m praying for your family to make it back okay, he said, seeing right through her.
Her eyes started to water, and she felt about as far away from the warrior she’d seen in the mirror as she’d ever felt. Gator put his arm around her, pulled her close.
At every corner, she thought, this guy seems to understand me, to know what I need.
Movement caught her eye. She looked over, saw Kenley and Trixie walking the prepped food outside. Roscoe trotted out behind them with Buck in tow.
Trixie looked up, saw them together, then made a purposefully-neutral face, almost like she was trying extra hard to hide her emotions.
“I think Trixie likes you,” Leighton sat up and said.
Beaming, he said, You saw that, too?
“Yeah, it’s pretty obvious,” she said, wiping her eyes. “Why don’t you just seal the deal?”
What makes you think I haven’t?
“That look, Gator,” she said with a knowing smile. “That look.”
I’m ready for the onions and peppers, Gator called out to the women.
Kenley brought a bowl of mixed spices and butter out. She and Trixie mixed the potatoes, the onions and peppers, the spices, the butter, and a little oil together. Kenley walked the mix out to Gator and said, I can cook it if you don’t want to.
Prepper hash is my specialty, he replied. He took the big bowl and said, There’s fresh wake-up juice on the table, I hear.
He showed her his coffee mug and gave it a lift.
Saw that, Kenley said.
Kenley looked like she couldn’t quite get her emotions under control. Leighton was concerned about the woman, but then again, she was just as concerned for herself.
When the coals were ready, everyone gathered around the campfire and the cooking began. They made a bit of small talk here and there, but then everyone fell silent, watching their breakfast pop and sizzle.
The silence did her in quicker than she suspected. The dire state of their situation was never more clear than in that moment. Outside of the immediate battle, she knew her brain would slow down, that it would move from fighting-the-fight to fighting-to-survive. She thought again of Niles and wavered under a sudden, unexpected surge of nausea.
Glancing around, she began to mentally tick off the problems with her situation. Aside from Niles being dead, she didn’t know where any of her family were or if they were even alive, their home had been inextricably damaged, she had a boy to take care of, and everyone needed food, shelter, and the ability to survive in a future that didn’t include power or the rule of law.
That wasn’t the worst of it, though. What really scared her was the question of who attacked the US. Was this a one-off attack? A multi-pronged attack? If they were under assault, or eventually overrun, how would the rest of the nation even know? If they were being conquered and taken over, who would tell them any of this?
But then Buck took her hand and gave it a squeeze. This drew her out of her downward spiral. She looked down at him and forced a smile.
Are we going to be okay? he asked.
She hated lying to him, but the kid would need reassurances. “Of course, we are.”
She glanced over at Hudson who gave a little frown then said, Yeah, we’ll need to talk about that.
Hudson Croft was a mystery to her. He had everything to live for, but he’d been ready to pack it in just days ago. Had that changed now? Had surviving what he did and finding a new community change his mind? Was he still focused on charging headlong to his own demise?
Then again, who was she to decide what was right for him? He was a good-looking, capable guy who lost his fiancée and went on a killing spree to either save or avenge his town, a town that now lay in absolute ruin. Everything that once defined him was now gone. Would he see that he could have a fresh start, or would this be the justification to reach for that early end?
What? he asked when he realized she was staring at him.
“I’m just really glad I met you,” she said. “I was wondering how you felt about things now that you didn’t eat a
bullet.”
I feel amazing, he said. He had that sarcastic look on his face, like he wasn’t taking himself seriously. Then again, he was good at deflection.
“What about Kenley?” she asked.
She let go of Buck’s hand, then—on her lap, discretely—she made a circle with her thumb and forefinger, pushing her finger in and out and smiling suggestively.
He laughed half-heartedly. What’s wrong with you?
She smiled back and said, “So many things. Not the least of which is that I’m out here with you clowns.”
Gator bumped her arm and said, Hey, I resent that statement.
Hudson tapped her shoulder, then waited for her to turn around. Why don’t you turn your little humping fingers in his direction?
She looked at Gator and thought of Trixie.
What are we, twelve? Gator asked, stifling a laugh. And don’t talk like that around the kid.
“Trust me, Buck has bigger problems than whether or not he sees some finger play,” Leighton said, putting her arm around the boy.
Buck looked up at her, causing Leighton to dip her chin and look at him. He said, I only know this, and then he put up the middle finger and everyone tried not to laugh.
“Next topic,” Leighton said, realizing the error of her ways.
Trixie sat down next to Gator, her leg against his leg, her arm brushing against his. Leighton wondered if the woman was getting territorial. To Leighton, it wouldn’t matter if she was. She wanted to see Gator enjoy himself, and maybe an affair of that sort would help take the pressure off of him.
Aware of Trixie’s proximity and not shying away from it, Gator said, We need to inventory our loot, then assess our situation in terms of short-term, mid-term, and long term survivability. I like having y’all around, but sooner or later this little house of mine is going to revolt. There are too many of you here for my liking.
Hudson said, How much land do you have here?
Gator finally realized what Trixie was doing. Casually, he took her hand in his, making everything rigid and needy in the woman relax.
More than enough for you to build, Gator said, but y’all are going to need to go self-sufficient because I’m not dying of starvation to feed a bunch of capable adults.
“We’ll be fine,” Leighton said, even though she wasn’t sure that was true.
Truthfully, she was hoping her father and mother would have some ideas. If they were still alive, that was. And if they made it back in one piece.
“I want to head back to the house this afternoon, see how things are there. I’m not sure what we can salvage, if anything, but I have to see. Plus, I’m thinking maybe Buck and I can stay in Dad’s man cave. It’s pretty cozy in there if you can get past the idea of what it is, or once was.”
You’re better off with me and Hudson, Gator said, at least until your folks get back.
Kenley sat down next to Hudson but showed little of the affection for him that Trixie had shown for Gator. The differences in their situations were vast, though. Kenley’s father had been killed, she went on a killing spree with Hudson and Leighton, and she’d left her home to be with strangers. There was no way she’d be fantasizing about a post-apoc romp any time soon.
Thinking of Trixie, she was probably grateful for her freedom, and grateful to Gator for giving it to her. Looking at the two of them, she imagined her situation had improved and she was ready to live again. The woman looked at her and they smiled at each other. Yeah, Trixie was at home with Gator and it made Leighton happy.
Time for chow, Gator said, putting on the hot mitt. Buck, you want to grab the plates and silverware?
The boy smiled like he was happy to have the responsibility. He got up and walked to the picnic table where there were plates and utensils. Leighton got up to help him, Roscoe on her heels as she went.
“I’ll take the silverware if you want to hand out the plates,” she told the boy.
He smiled and nodded, his way of saying, “Okay.”
When they sat down, Gator served everyone. The portion sizes were less than normal, but if they were to survive the hardest of the fall, they’d need to learn to live lean, to eat less, to work harder, and be more innovative in their survival.
“We should go down the hill and meet up with Garrity,” Leighton said. “I want to help bury Deputy Derek, then maybe talk about what’s next.”
Kenley cut to the chase and said, So are we going to turn Nicholasville into our short- and mid-term survivability plan? Because, if we do, if that’s what we’re relying on, after the entire town is looted and the die off of those who can’t survive occurs, there will be nothing left but hunting and farming.
Hudson said, I can teach you to hunt, and fish—
“And I can teach you to farm,” Leighton said. “Our land is good for that, but I need to see about the house. Who knows, maybe we can rebuild.”
Gator said, If you want, after breakfast, we can head over there and assess the damage together.
She nodded, looking first at Gator, then at Trixie. The woman was nodding, too. It seemed that all she needed to feel comfortable was for Gator to see her affections and reciprocate them.
Maybe after that, Gator continued, we can head to Garrity’s house and help with Derek.
“What if Garrity wants to hold a funeral?” Leighton asked.
If he does, we’ll all be there.
Gator hopped on the four-wheeler; Leighton saddled up behind him. He fired up the quad, dropped it in gear, then took off. Leighton wrapped her arms around him as they traversed down the uneven terrain leading to the road below. When the tires touched the pavement, Gator gunned it and they roared down the open road leading to casa de McDaniel.
Leighton wanted to tell him to slow down, not because of the speed, but because she was nervous about going home, maybe even a bit afraid. She loved the house and what it represented, but it was likely in ruins and she was trying to mentally prepare for that.
Suck it up, she told herself. That’s when she felt that girl coming back in—the warrior she saw in the mirror. This was the cold girl, the emotionally detached girl, the girl who could punch you in the face and not bat an eyelash over it.
When they got to Watts Mill Road, Gator slowed for the dead guy he and Trixie had killed: Diesel Daley. Leighton turned away when she saw that some of the wildlife had been feeding on him, specifically his face and neck. If Gator felt bad for being party to this man’s murder, he sure didn’t show it.
He took the gently-sloping driveway slowly, motoring them up to the clearing in front of the garage. Much of the front of the house had burned down, the collapsed entryway nothing more than charred wood and ash. Beyond that, more than half of the house had survived, which was good depending on the conditions inside.
When Gator shut off the engine, Leighton got off the quad, going to the garden rather than the house. She put off going inside the house to check out the garden, for the garden was food. Walking the rows, seeing some plants recovering, while others didn’t make it, she shook her head and looked down to where Diesel was dead. Shaking her head, she reined in her thoughts. If push came to shove, she and Buck could stay in the barn conversion while they tended to the farm. Her parents had put their heart and soul into starting the garden. This was to be their livelihood. It lay in ruin, but she could save some of it.
She looked up and saw Gator staring at her. “We need to see what we can do about the plants that lived. If we can revive the garden, we’ll at least have somewhat of a harvest.” He nodded, reading the emotion on her face. “It’s our best bet at having both food and seeds in the upcoming months.”
I agree.
“This is heartbreaking, Gator.”
He simply nodded and made a sad face, his expression saying everything.
She made her way into the house, careful not to touch anything unstable, or walk into the more dangerous areas of the house. At first she held her nose against the acrid smell, but then she got used to it as sh
e walked around and tried not to cry.
There were so many rich, vibrant memories of family there—it all became too much. She saw her brother and sister playing board games and cards together, cooking meals together, the entire family relaxing together. There were memories of her grandfather there as well. He’d loved the place, but mostly he loved his grandkids. The memories bowled her over, made her miss her family. That tough girl she saw in the mirror this morning was now nowhere to be found.
“Chickenshit,” she said under her breath.
The tough girl in question was there for the fist fights and the fun, but she was a no-show for the emotional tough stuff.
Leighton couldn’t spend another minute inside. Wiping her eyes before Gator saw she had been crying, she fought to pull herself together.
Garrity’s place? he asked when she emerged.
She nodded, solemn.
Both of them got on the quad and Gator took them into town. They headed straight to Garrity’s place where he was in the back yard digging Derek’s grave.
They expected to find a forlorn man. Instead, when they met him, they found a man who seemed to have caught his second wind.
Leighton and Gator both grabbed shovels and helped out. When the grave was ready, Gator said, Do you want to have a ceremony?
Garrity shook his head. Just then, Marilyn arrived in her beater, the back end looking a bit smoky, like she was burning oil.
The deputy joined them at the grave looking freshly bathed but run down and sad.
I stopped by Laura’s to see if she wanted to come over, but she’s a wreck.
“She’s not coming then?” Leighton asked.
Marilyn shook her head, then went and gave Garrity a hug. I’m so sorry, Lance. He wasn’t kin, but he was blue blood, family.
Garrity nodded, then he and Gator picked up Derek’s body where he lay wrapped-up and ready. Together they lowered him into the earth. Garrity jumped down into the grave with him, made sure his body was positioned right for the burial.
Standing graveside with the men, Leighton saw Garrity say a few things she didn’t think anyone else could hear. Finally, Garrity looked up and took Gator’s hand. The big man helped the Sheriff out, then they waited for Garrity to speak.
