by Rick Tippins
“Why didn’t you do your hair?” he asked.
She looked up with her almond-shaped eyes, feet swinging under the table. “You have to do it, I’m not old enough to do my own hair.”
Jared shook his head. If he had to help her shower, then he’d surely have to do other things for her. He wished he had a list of things she could and could not do. If he knew the parameters of how he was expected to help her, he could mentally prepare himself for the ordeal, whatever it might be.
Jared rose from the table and went to his room to fetch the bag of brushes and hair bands. Upon his return, he dropped them all on the table next to Essie’s dinner. “Pick a brush and hair band.”
The little girl poked through the bag of brushes for a solid two minutes before settling on a simple black brush. She slid the brush over to him, turned in her chair to offer access to her tangles, and began going through the hair bands.
Jared picked the brush up, inspecting it and wondering why this one. When the answer didn’t come to him, he reached out with the brush and attempted to drag it through Essie’s hair. The maneuver jerked her head back, soliciting a yelp of pain from the tiny girl’s lips.
Bart looked over the book he was reading. “Jesus Christ, boy, you’re gonna break the poor kid’s neck doing that. You either start at the bottom, or you grab her hair and hold it as you brush.”
Essie never looked over her shoulder as she recovered and got back to sifting through the hair bands.
Even though he fumed inside, Jared carefully took the girl’s hair in his hand and fought the brush through it over and over till the tangles submitted, leaving her golden hair to cascade over her small shoulders in beautiful flowing ringlets. When Essie finally felt the brush sliding smoothly through her locks, she quietly handed a hair band over her shoulder.
It took Jared three tries to get a ponytail secured to the back of her head. When he finished, she turned to face him, and he was taken aback by how lovely she looked. With her hair pulled out of her face, he was able to see just what a perfectly-shaped face she had, along with how large her almond-shaped brown eyes were. Essie’s beauty and pure innocence was a stark contrast to the cruel and ugly world they were all trying to survive in.
“What?” Essie asked as Jared’s stare lasted just a little too long.
He twitched his hands and shrugged his shoulders slightly. “You look like a different kid with your hair pulled up, that’s all.”
Essie turned and set about finishing her dinner while Jared collected all the brushes, stuffing them back in the bag.
Bart snorted with a raised eyebrow, pausing just a moment as if giving Jared a chance to fix something he’d messed up and, when he didn’t, Bart spoke up. “What he meant to tell you, Essie, is you have a beautiful face, when we can see it.”
Essie looked at Jared for confirmation, which he gave by quickly nodding his head before rushing out of the room.
After Essie ate and was in her sleeping bag, fast asleep, Jared and Bart sat in the workshop talking. Bart asked how Essie was going to affect Jared’s plans of traveling across the country to reunite with his parents, and how he expected to take care of her along the way. Jared outright admitted he had no idea and told Bart he didn’t even know if the trip was possible by himself, without the added burden of caring for a child. As gunfire could be heard in the distance, both men agreed he couldn’t keep her in the city with it crumbling like pie crust. Now in the hushed aftermath that followed whatever conflict had triggered the rifle shots, both men sat quietly lost in their own thoughts.
Bart took a drink and broke the silence. “You know, tomorrow we need to work on the front of the store, make it appear to have been looted.”
Jared frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I intend to build a false wall, putting up shelves and making it appear that there’s nothing back here.” Bart swept his hand in the direction of the hallway. “Build a real wall with a hidden entrance to the hallway.”
Jared nodded. “You could come with us.”
Bart sat back. “I’ve thought about that, but I’m not getting any younger, and I don’t have the endurance you and Essie have. I’d slow you down and eat up precious resources. I would add nothing to your little travel group.”
Jared sat a little straighter in the chair. “What are you talking about? You have all this experience with guns and have actually used them.”
Bart just shook his head. “I’d be a burden, and no one knows that better than I—hell, I feel these old bones, and they are not in any condition for a trek across the good old US of A. Fact is, I don’t think you’d make it, with or without the girl. Too much is wrong out there right now, and you don’t come from a background that lends itself to surviving off the land.”
Jared sat back in his chair, and again a cacophony of gunfire erupted a few blocks away, as if to corroborate Bart’s prediction.
When the gunfire came to an end, Jared slumped back in his seat. “I have to get out of here and at least get into the country, where there are fewer people and, more importantly, fewer bad people.”
Bart nodded. “I agree.” More gunfire rattled off in the distance, and it was evident there were multiple weapons involved in the current disagreement.
“It’s getting worse and we’re barely two weeks into this. I have to leave, and I have to go soon.”
Bart just dipped his chin in agreement.
“You just gonna stay here till the food’s gone and then starve to death?” Jared asked.
Bart smiled tiredly. “Naw, I’m going to stay inside till the food’s gone, and then I will go and get more. I’m not dying inside this shop; I can tell you that much. When I die, it’ll be out there on the street, and it will be in the company of at least a few of whoever ends up getting me.”
Jared wondered why the old bastard was talking like this, like he had his own death planned and was very okay with the whole idea of dying in the street like a dog. Jared could not put his finger on it, feeling he was missing something. He didn’t know what and therefore didn’t even know what to ask Bart in order to better understand the old man’s intentions.
The men discussed the future and talked about starting some rifle training, Bart showing Jared the rifle he intended to give him when he left the gun store. The weapon was made by Colt, and Bart called it an AR-15, semiautomatic, gas-operated, shoulder-fired rifle, whatever that meant. Jared handled the weapon briefly before locking it back in a safe.
They talked as the gunfire outside came and went. After a spell, both men were too tired to drink or talk. Jared literally fell into the sleeping bag and was asleep before his head had fully settled into the soft pillow.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jared sat up straight; a feeling of dread trickled down his back like ice water. Bart had wakened him and was holding a hand over his mouth. Jared was so entirely unnerved by the manner in which Bart had dragged him from sleep, he didn’t move a muscle. Although his body lay perfectly still and unmoving, his mind was racing, filled with questions and fear.
“Quiet. Someone’s inside the shop,” Bart whispered.
The trickle of ice water turned into a rushing river of icy adrenaline that sent Jared’s mind racing even faster. Jared did two things he would later reflect on and wonder how he’d changed in such a short period of time. He reached for the Glock with one hand while softly placing his hand on Essie’s bedding with the other. He felt the girl’s small form and breathed a sigh of relief as he slowly rose to a kneeling position.
Jared could hear whoever was in their building moving stealthily through the front of the shop. Bart had dropped his hand from Jared’s mouth and was resting it on his shoulder. Jared thought about all the lessons he learned about two-man operations inside a building, but all he could remember was Bart’s advice to be ready for the unexpected, and that every situation was different, and that everything he taught him would most likely not cover what would happen in real life when the time ca
me.
He wasn’t ready for this. What the fuck am I going to do? Who the fuck is in the shop, and what are they after? Jared’s mind was racing to near light speed, his senses on high alert, smell and sight enhanced by nature’s amphetamine coursing through his veins in the form of adrenalin.
Bart squeezed his shoulder and leaned in. “Wake her, let her know to be quiet, and have her hide under her cot. I’m moving to the hallway. Meet me there when you’re done.” Bart was so calm that it scared Jared even more, but somehow, through the absolute raw and unadulterated fear, Jared was able to access the very small piece of his mind that stored Bart’s training.
Robotically, he reached out, squeezing Bart’s arm twice, signaling he understood. After the two squeezes, Bart slid out of the room and into the hallway.
Jared leaned over the cot and gently placed his hand over Essie’s mouth, careful not to apply too much pressure. “Essie, wake up,” he whispered in her ear.
The girl’s eyes flashed open; her body tensed.
“It’s me, Essie; you have to be quiet. People are inside the shop.”
She relaxed just slightly as Jared pulled his hand from her mouth.
“Please don’t say a word. Just get under the cot and stay there till Bart and I get them out of here.”
Without a word, she rolled from the bed onto the floor, slithering out of the sleeping bag and under the cot. Jesus, Jared thought for the second time, was Bart training this little girl when I was out collecting supplies?
Jared moved to the doorway, finding Bart kneeling and peering into the inky blackness. The tarp at the end of the hallway moved, letting in a source of light. Jared couldn’t tell if there was a full moon or whoever was out there had a light source. Bart recoiled, bumping into Jared as both men eased back into Jared’s room, waiting like two coiled vipers. Jared saw the light flickering off the walls as whoever was out there passed through the tarp, making their way down the hallway.
Jared saw the man as he came even with the doorway; he was dirty and appeared to be in his thirties. He carried a large butcher knife held out in front of him. The storage room directly across from Jared’s room proved the man’s undoing. He came to the T intersection and chose the door on his right, the storage room. The two men on his left stood unseen, poised for action, while the hapless man turned his back and gently fumbled with the door handle.
Bart simply stepped across the hallway, placed the muzzle of his pistol to the man’s head, and whispered, “Cry out or move wrong and I will pull this trigger.”
The man froze, knife in his right hand, left hand still wrapped around the door handle. Jared was transfixed on what Bart was doing and never thought to look towards the front of the store.
In a loud voice the man proclaimed, “They got me. There are people back here.”
Jared was amazed by a couple of things. The first was the calmness with which the man had warned his partner, apparently not caring about the consequences to himself. The second was how fast Bart pulled the gun away from the man’s head and fired two shots into his right elbow, causing the man to scream and drop the knife all at the same time. Bart clamped the man around the throat with his left arm and dragged him back into Jared’s room, bowling Jared over in the process.
The second they crashed to the floor in Jared’s room, gunfire erupted from the direction of the tarp. The man had set the candle on the floor to test the door, and it continued to illuminate the hallway, but the muzzle flashes were very evident in the low-light environment. Jared was nearly deafened by the cacophony of gunfire directed their way at such close range.
“There’s two of ’em, first room on the left,” the man continued to the unknown assailant still in the front of the store.
Jared heard several sickening thuds and knew Bart was trying to cave the man’s head in with his pistol.
From outside the room, Jared heard a man’s voice. “I’m coming for you, buddy.”
There was more gunfire, and Jared heard the tarp being moved. Jared looked down and saw the frightened face of Essie peeking out from under the cot. There was no thought process, he just acted, getting to his feet, kicking the wounded man in the head so hard he knew he would walk with a limp later as he moved to the doorway.
Jared ducked low, poking his head and weapon around the door frame. The man was standing lit by the light of the candle, reloading a revolver with the tarp partially draped over his shoulders. Jared held the man in his sights and fired several rapid shots. The man grunted then pitched forward into the hall, sprawling awkwardly with his limbs twisted in several unnatural directions. Jared stared wide-eyed at the felled man, nearly jumping out of his skin when the man shifted, grunted, and the last of his air was forced from his lungs in a long rasping wheeze.
“He down?” hissed Bart from where he was hunkered over the lifeless body of the first man.
Jared just nodded, transfixed on the downed man lying in the flickering light of the candle. This episode was different than when he shot the gang members. He didn’t act out of anger in this instance and didn’t have the luxury of time to think about what he was going do. These men forced both him and Bart to act instantly. No time to come up with a plan of action, just get out of bed and defend what was yours, and do it to the death if need be. There had definitely been a need and, consequently, there was a death.
Jared knew they held a tactical advantage, as Bart would have said. This was their home, they lived here, knew every square inch of the building and, more importantly, they spent countless hours training for just such an event. What rattled Jared to the core was that he did not automatically wake up; Bart had to wake him and, even though they seemed to have the upper hand at the moment, this could have gone the other way very easily.
Jared was brought back to the here and now as Bart shoved him roughly to the side as he dragged the unconscious body of the first man into the hallway.
“Hold that hallway and kill anything or anyone who comes through that tarp,” Bart barked as he dropped the man halfway up the hallway. Bart turned and rushed past Jared, disappearing into the back of the store.
Jared stared at the two men who moments ago had been a dire threat to their existence. Now the men were piled up in a hallway somewhere in San Jose, one definitely dead and the other, well, Jared didn’t know what Bart had done to him.
Bart returned and bound the man’s hands behind his back with the flex cuffs. He finished the man off by binding his ankles and then securing his ankles to his wrists with a single cuff. This put the man in an arched-back position.
Jared remembered talking to Bart about prisoners and how to make sure they couldn’t hurt you. They had not trained on the subject matter, but it had merely been a conversation over a few cups of bourbon one evening. Bart told Jared about using this tactic as a cop until some criminal son of a bitch had sued, and the police department had outlawed the use of hog-tying prisoners.
Bart returned, rifle in hand. “We’re going to clear that front area and sweep the outside of the store. You ready to go?”
Jared nodded.
Bart stepped into the doorway, peering in at Essie. “Be right back, Ess,” Bart reassured her.
She stared blankly back, obviously terrified.
Jared glanced back before Bart moved forward, closing on the two bodies.
“Cover your ears, boy,” Bart exclaimed as he reached into his cargo pocket, producing several green light sticks, which he tossed past the two downed men, into the front of his store.
Before Jared could process the warning, Bart fired a rifle shot into the second man’s head and tore through the tarp, turning left as he entered the green glow of the shop’s showroom. Jared’s ears rang, instantly feeling actual real pain as over 155 decibels slammed into his hearing canals sans ear protection.
He trained with Bart in this very room, knowing Bart expected Jared to follow him and cover whichever side Bart wasn’t covering. In this case, that would be the right side of the room
. Bart would be working the left side, clearing or ridding the place of any unwanted two-legged vermin. As Jared lurched forward, muzzle slightly turned inward, but not down, he almost laughed at the thought of being more scared of Bart’s reaction to his not entering the room than meeting some desperate maniac inside the shadowy unknowns of the front room. He slid through the tarp before it could fall back in place, making a smooth entry to the right.
“I’m clear,” Bart barked as Jared visually swept his side and came up with the same conclusion.
“Clear,” Jared grunted as they moved forward, keeping abreast of the other as they transitioned through the small storefront, sweeping through the empty aisles. Bart had cleared everything out and lowered the shelves for just a situation like this one. They were able to easily clear the rest of the storefront within seconds, ending up at the shattered front glass door.
“Motherfuckers,” was all Bart said, looking at the breach in his little kingdom’s skin.
Silently they moved through the broken door, trying to step through the broken glass and onto quieter ground. Jared followed Bart as they moved in a 360-degree circle around the building, stopping at the rear door to inspect it for damage. The door did not appear to have been molested in any way.
The men moved on until they were back at the smashed front door. Bart looked the damage over again and shook his head before ducking back inside the store. He grabbed the dead man by the boots and dragged him out of the hallway.
“Check on Essie,” he said as he continued struggling under the load, towards the broken front door. Bart was in operational mode, and Jared had never seen him so focused and determined. He thought about asking what he planned on doing, but refrained from opening his mouth, instead going to where Essie was still curled up under the cot. She looked like a thousand pounds were lifted from her little shoulders when Jared darkened the doorway.