by Ralph Gibbs
Randel counted the bags of sugar. “Do you know how much this stuff will worth in a few years?” he asked.
“Enough to kill for,” Danica said.
“That must be why they stocked up on weapons,” Randel said jokingly. “There are enough weapons here to fend off a siege for . . . Well, forever, and enough food to last as long. It seems the only weak point is the vent.”
Andy suddenly rushed into the shelter.
“There are people here,” he said out of breath.
“Let’s just hope this isn’t the start of it,” Danica said.
Franklin handed weapons to Maggie, Randel, and Danica.
CHAPTER 52
Making their way back to the solar house, Franklin was the first to spot three men and two women, one a young teenager, standing near an SUV. A third woman sat in the passenger seat leaning out the window talking with Deborah, who was at the top of the stairs.
“Oh shit,” a man with the look of a lumberjack said, as he spotted the heavily armed Franklin, Danica, Maggie and Randel round the side of the house. “We didn’t come looking for trouble. We’ll be on our way.”
Franklin suddenly stopped, his attention immediately drawn to the older woman standing near the SUV, as everyone but her, started for the vehicle. Instead of trying to leave, this woman stared at them through small mirrored sunglasses, seemingly taking their measure. Her gaze stopped on Franklin as if instinctively knowing he was the most dangerous.
Franklin stared back. He noted that almost everyone in the new group looked tired, disheveled, and wore clothing that doubled as sleepwear. In complete contrast, this woman was stylishly dressed, wearing new form-fitting deep blue jeans and a bright red blouse underneath a thick brown leather jacket that reached her ankles. Even her shoulder-length red hair was washed and tied off stylishly to one side. Franklin got the sense she enjoyed looking stylish not because she was vainglorious, but because it made her look less dangerous. However, for the trained eye, it was easy to spot the unmistakable air of confidence and professionalism to this woman missing among the others. She reminded him of Paris.
“Don’t be silly,” Maggie said, shouldering her weapon, immediately breaking the spell. “You’re welcome to rest here if you want. You won’t be able to go any further, anyway. The bridge is out.”
“So, we discovered,” the lumberjack said, lowering his arms, obviously relieved they weren’t going to die. “We’ve been searching for a way through, with no luck. We only turned into this complex because we needed a break. I liked the idea of kicking back on a couch, pulling my shoes off and putting my feet up on a coffee table.” He looked around him. “We figured there were enough houses back here we could find at least one without bodies.” He nervously chuckled. “Imagine my surprise when we found live bodies . . . I mean people.”
“The roads might be better south of here, but we can’t be sure,” Franklin said. “If you want to go through the mountains, you’ll probably have to foot in through five or six miles. There should be plenty of cars on the road you can use after that.”
“I’m not sure I’ll be able to do that anytime soon,” the woman in the SUV said as she awkwardly exited the vehicle to reveal that she was pregnant. Maggie rushed to the woman’s side to help. The woman was Asian and looked several years older than the rest of the group. She was dressed in gray sweatpants and a dark blue extra-large shirt that barely encompassed her enormous belly. She looked like she was ready to give birth to triplets at any moment.
“Let’s get you in the house,” Maggie said, as she helped the woman up the steps. One man, much younger than the woman, rushed to her side. He was a tall kid, skinny with an awkwardly long neck. Like most of the others, he was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt.
“When are you due?” Maggie asked.
“Any day now. It’s why we were trying to get through the mountains. We were hoping to get to Colorado before I popped.”
“The rest of you, get what you need and come inside,” Maggie said. “We can make our introductions over coffee.” She turned back to Randel, who was standing there watching. “Randel, don’t just stand there. Go make coffee.”
“Yes ma’am,” he said as he sprinted up the steps and into the house ahead of Maggie. Danica followed behind Maggie, holding her hands up behind the pregnant woman as if mentally willing the woman not to fall backward.
“You can talk about your plans after you eat and rest,” Maggie said and turned to the lumberjack. “As long as your feet don’t stink, there is a nice large coffee table in the living room you can put your feet on. I doubt anyone will mind.” The lumberjack, knowing he’d been in his boots for several days, looked down at his feet and frowned.
“You have any soap?” he said hopefully.
“Let’s have an early lunch,” Maggie said to Deborah.
“I’ll get something started,” Deborah said as she turned the chair around and zipped inside.
As Franklin approached the SUV, he discovered partly why the professional-looking woman was so confident. Strapped to her waist was a pair of Colt .357 revolvers nestled in a worn leather dual cowboy-style holster. On most people, this would have looked out of place on anyone not wearing a cowboy hat and riding a horse. On her, it seemed as if she had slipped from the womb wearing them. With the discovery, Franklin realized that when the lumberjack said they would leave, the gunslinger was preparing to cover their escape, which meant Franklin would be the first person she killed if his group tried to stop them. Franklin liked her even more now, though she would need to be watched.
“You have coffee?” the lumberjack asked Franklin when Randel disappeared into the house. The lumberjack was a bald giant, standing six-and-a-half feet, with broad, muscular shoulders and sporting a dark, neatly trimmed neck-length beard. He was dressed in jeans and a red and black checkered flannel shirt that reminded Franklin of Paul Bunyan. He knew the man had to have an ax in his car somewhere.
His companion was several years younger than the lumberjack and less intimidating. He had short blond thick hair and a thin goatee that looked as if it were still in development. With his jeans and loose-fitting Captain America T-shirt, he reminded Franklin of a gaming geek.
“We do,” Franklin said.
“I have died and gone to heaven,” the lumberjack said.
“I doubt they have coffee in heaven,” the gamer said.
“They better,” the lumberjack said as he muscled two packs out of the back of the SUV. “If they don’t, I’m not dying, and that’s final.”
“I can carry my bags,” the gunslinger said, taking her pack from the lumberjack. As she did, her leather jacket opened, revealing a second set of guns nestled in a pair of shoulder holsters. These were more modern semi-automatic pistols.
“I meant no offense, Jordan,” the lumberjack said, as he reached in and pulled out another pack positioning it on the tailgate. He held out a hand to Franklin. “I’m Gerald.”
“Franklin,” he said, grasping the man’s hand.
Shouldering the pack and reaching in for another, Gerald gestured with his chin toward the gamer and then the gunslinger. “That’s Kyle Monique and Jordan August.”
“It’s Kyle Dobson,” Kyle said, taking Franklin’s hand.
“I keep telling him Kyle Monique sounds better,” Gerald said. “Rolls off the tongue. Names should roll off the tongue; like Gerald Hall. See, rolls right off. It’s the end of the world; no reason you can’t change it.”
“It’s on my driver’s license,” Kyle said, shouldering a pack.
“Like anyone will pull you over and ask for your license,” Gerald said, handing the teenager the last pack. “And this little spitfire is Cindy Palmer.
“Hey,” Cindy said to Franklin as she grabbed the pack. Being the youngest of the group, Franklin guessed she was one of those goth girls at the time the plague hit. Though her hair was currently black, with pink highlights, her auburn roots were regaining their dominance as the artificial colors began to
fade. Of course, he was no expert on the goth culture. She may have been experimenting, trying to find her own style as teenagers often did. After taking her pack, Cindy rushed to catch up with Jordan, and the two of them headed into the house.
“Just put the packs down, anywhere,” Franklin said as he and the other men entered the house.
“In the corner,” Maggie corrected.
“As I said, put the packs down anywhere in the corner,” Franklin amended.
“Men,” Jordan said, smiling for the first time.
“What’s the dog’s name?” Cindy asked, putting down her pack.
“Whisper,” Andy shouted from the hall as he pulled a blanket from the closet. He rushed over to give it to the pregnant woman who was relaxing on the most comfortable chair in the living room. “I’m Andy.”
“Thank you, Andy,” the woman said, taking the blanket and covering herself. “I’m Rikki.”
“Does he bite?” Cindy asked.
“Not so far,” Danica said. “I haven’t had him long.”
“Can I make the coffee?” Andy asked Maggie.
“Sure,” Maggie said. Andy’s smile widened into a canyon, and then he ran in to take over for Randel. As part of Deborah’s teaching routine, she started teaching Andy how to cook. Though it wasn’t technically cooking, coffee was the first lesson. It was also self-serving. Andy was a kid that liked to get up at the crack of dawn, and it was everyone’s secret hope he would have coffee waiting for them when they woke up. So far, the plan worked perfectly.
“Oh my God,” Rikki said as she relaxed deeper into the chair. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt something so wonderful. We’ve been in that car all day trying to find a path through the mountains.”
“Let me make the introductions,” Maggie said. “I’m Maggie, that’s Randel, my husband, Franklin, Deborah, Danica, and Andy.”
“Don’t forget about Whisper,” Andy said as he poured the water into the coffee pot, trying not to spill it.
“And Whisper,” Maggie said.
Gerald took in a deep breath. “God, I can already smell the coffee.”
“It hasn’t even started brewing,” Jordan said.
“I can smell the grounds,” he said adoringly. “It’s ambrosia.”
“That’s Gerald,” Rikki said. She pointed to the gamer and then the boy that came inside with her. “The rest of the boys are Kyle and Tim. The girl with the scary arsenal fixation is Jordan, and the young lass with killer math skills is Cynthia.”
“Just Cindy,” she said, sounding exasperated. “You know I hate Cynthia.”
“What’s the baby’s name?” Andy asked.
“Albert, after my husband, if it’s a boy,” Rikki said. “Lane, after my mother, if it’s a girl.”
“Lane is a cool name,” Andy said.
“Wait a minute,” Gerald said. “Is that an automatic coffee pot? You have electricity? How?” Franklin wasn’t happy. He didn’t like people knowing they had working electricity. Once this group moved on, he would need to have a long talk with everyone about security. There were a lot of people that would kill to have a small fraction of what they had now. No one seemed to know the first thing about operational security. Of course, he kept saying he needed to have a security talk, but he never seemed to follow through.
“Solar power,” Andy said from the kitchen. “You want sugar in your coffee?” Franklin rolled his eyes.
“Very much,” Gerald said. “Is the whole house wired? Hot water?”
“Yes, to the whole house being wired and no to the hot water,” Maggie said.
“It should,” Danica said. “It has a sink and a faucet with hot and cold tabs, so I think it was supposed to.”
“Were there any bodies when you got here?” Kyle asked.
“No,” Franklin said before Maggie could tell them about the bunker.
“It gets pretty cold in the mountains,” Kyle said. “My guess is they turned off the water to keep the pipes from bursting. I can take a look around if you want. My uncle was a plumber. I spent a summer helping him when I was younger. I picked up a little here and there. I might be able to get it turned on.”
“That would be great,” Maggie said.
Kyle headed into the kitchen, turned on a tab and headed out to the back.
“I never thought to see electricity again in my lifetime,” Gerald said flicking on and off the light switch. “You should switch to the longer-lasting light bulbs. Some will last years. Should be easy enough to find and now they’ll be free.”
“That’s Gerald,” Rikki said. “He always was a tree hugger.”
“Well, yes,” Gerald said. “But also, they’ll be less of a drain on your batteries.”
“Your husband?” Maggie asked, sounding hopeful.
“No,” Rikki said. “When we were younger, we were high school sweethearts, but we grew apart. He was all ‘down with the man’,” she said, balling her fist and waving it in the air. “And I wanted a man that would provide. So, we went our separate ways.”
“The father?” Maggie asked, everyone already guessing the answer.
“Gone,” Rikki said.
“Gone, as in you don’t know where he is or gone as in . . .” Danica let the rest of her thought trail off.
“Theo was a good man,” Rikki said as if that answered the question.
A short time later, as they drank coffee, they sat around talking about their backgrounds. They learned that Rikki and Gerald were both from northern Virginia but were working in New Jersey. Gerald and Theo were golfing buddies. Gerald lost his wife and a son. Before the phones went dead, Gerald learned that most of his extended family was dead. It was possible his brother was alive.
“He’s the hermit type,” Gerald said. “Last I heard he was living in a cabin near Yellowstone. Strange man. I actually contacted the FBI once thinking he might be the Unabomber. He wasn’t, thank God. He’s so far removed from people chances are he didn’t catch it.” Everyone else had similar stories. They said Kyle was from Boston, Tim and Cindy were from Maryland, the only survivors of their families. Jordan was from Washington, D.C.
Franklin wondered how long it would be before people stopped telling these stories, five years, ten, a generation? Would the dead forever be this generation’s connection to each other? Would sociologists call them the Dead Generation or Generation Dead? Were there any sociologists left?
“What are you doing way down here?” Franklin asked.
“We were headed to Atlanta,” Gerald said. “We heard the government was set up there, but we learned that was a lie.”
“We know about them,” Danica said, sourly. “They came to my community.” She summarized the events for them.”
“What are you doing now?” Maggie asked.
“Rumor has it the real government is holed up in Colorado,” Gerald said.
“It’s true,” Franklin said.
“Are you sure?” Rikki asked, hopefully.
“Until recently, I was traveling with an FBI agent who was in contact with them,” Franklin said.
“That’s a relief,” Rikki said, holding her stomach. “I would have hated to find out we were chasing another lie.”
“Where’s your FBI friend now?” Gerald asked.
“In Colorado,” Franklin said. “A friend of ours was bitten by a rattlesnake, and the president sent an airplane to Columbia to pick him up.”
“He did that?” Gerald said. “Makes me proud I voted for him. How’s your friend doing?”
“He didn’t make it,” Franklin said, putting down his coffee and going to stare out the window.
“Damn,” Rikki said. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Gerald and I lost a friend too,” Rikki said. “When we started this trip, Raymond was with us. He was murdered in Virginia. A group of guys came upon us in the middle of the night. When I first saw them, I just knew we were all doing to die. One of them had a snake tattoo on his neck.”
Franklin jerked around.
“There were about eight of them, altogether, so there wasn’t much we could do,” Gerald said, taking up the story. “They pulled Raymond out of his sleeping bag. Didn’t say a damn word, just lynched him on the spot.” A tear rolled from his eye. “His neck just snapped. I promise I will never forget that sound. I wake up at night hearing that sound.” Maggie laid a comforting hand on his arm.
“Why him?” Maggie asked.
“Because he was black,” Franklin supplied.
“That’s right,” Rikki said softly. “If I hadn’t been pregnant, I have no doubt they would have killed me. They asked me if Raymond was the father. He wasn’t. A couple of them didn’t believe me. Threatened to cut me open to see what color the baby was. They roughed up Gerald a little but let us go a few hours later. Told us if they ever saw us in the company of a black man again, they’d string us up alongside them.”
“I don’t think we had a campfire at night for nearly a month,” Gerald said. “At least, not until we met up with Jordan.”
“Raymond was a good man,” Rikki said. “He never did anything to anybody. He didn’t deserve to die like that.”
“He wouldn’t have if I had killed that son of a bitch when I had the chance,” Franklin said.
“You know him?” Maggie said, shocked.
“He calls himself Copperhead,” Franklin said.
“That’s what his friends called him,” Gerald said.
“His real name is Wendell Helms,” Franklin said. “He was in prison up in northern Virginia with me. Hated that bastard the moment I laid eyes on him. I kicked his ass the first day we were in prison together. Every day afterward, I had to watch my back. There wasn’t a day that didn’t go by that someone didn’t try to shove a shank in my back.” He gave them the background on his last day at the prison. He held nothing back. “I should have tracked him down and killed him, but I thought he was all bark and no bite. Truthfully, I figured he’d starve to death within a month.”