Dark Days of the After (Book 1): Dark Days of the After

by Schow, Ryan

The dog whined, then looked up at Connor as if to say, “I know her name, why doesn’t she know mine?”

  “It’s okay, Cooper, I know who you are,” she said, whispering and putting a hand to her mouth to conceal the message from Connor.

  Chuckling, maybe even starting to like her, Connor said, “Yes, but do you know how to make the primers, the casings, the projectiles?”

  “You just buy the separate parts and hand load the ammo, right?” she said, still preoccupied with the dog.

  He looked at Cooper and frowned. Harper sat up and fixed him with a grin. She was talking his language, wasn’t she? Her grin faded. When he looked back at her, Connor wasn’t smiling. What did she miss? The blonde-haired, self-proclaimed computer nerd was not smiling anymore. She knew what this was. By saying she read a pamphlet and understood what he did, she’d minimized his life’s work. She would never be as passionate as him in this regard.

  On that point, she wouldn’t argue with him either.

  Still scratching behind the German Shepherd’s ears, then getting a quick kiss from the pup, Connor said, “See how easy all that sounds? You just do this and that and when you need more bullets you go to the store for bullet parts.”

  “If I was an expert already,” she said defensively, “I could be petting the dog and making fun of you. Wouldn’t that be amazing? It would be so much fun.” She said this with a fair amount of exaggeration, but not a hint of humor.

  “Did you read up on swaging?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “Well you’re going to need to have at least a basic understanding of the process if you want to work with me.”

  “I thought I was planting the garden and helping you keep the property safe,” she said. “Beyond that, I have my own responsibilities.”

  “You do, as long as we have power, but this ain’t no Club Med, sweetheart. We don’t just sit around and sleep and water the garden. There’s a lot to do to prepare.”

  “I get it,” she said, feeling like a fish out of water. “This is all new. I mean, I’m a computer nerd. A software engineer who somehow managed to become a central information hub for the west coast Resistance.”

  “That sounds easy,” he said.

  “I’m only in communication with everyone trying to save the country, so yeah, it’s totally easy.”

  Sitting up, he said, “I was wondering what it was you did.”

  She stared at him and he stared back. He was the first to break. He smiled at her, softened his eyes, tilted his head like he was listening.

  After almost forty years of marriage, she could see he’d learned a thing or two about winding a woman up then diffusing her without much bloodshed.

  “At noon each day,” she offered, “I pick up intel from the various pockets of the Resistance around the west coast. I gather it all together, then separate the gossip from the actionable intel and disburse a clean report accordingly.”

  “So you’re kind of important,” he said.

  “I am.”

  “To me, you’re still the new girl.”

  “I get it,” she said.

  “Well, new girl, we’re rolling stones around here. We gather no moss. That’s why every day it’s boots on the ground, not asses in the seat.”

  “Well this ass needs to be in a seat for about an hour a day. Around that, I’m all yours, I’m not afraid of hard work, and I’ll level up to where you need me.”

  “Can you fight?” Connor asked.

  “Like a savage,” she said in a no-nonsense tone.

  “Hand to hand?”

  “Yes.”

  “If you want to live this life, you go from consumer to producer. That’s not just about the food you grow. I’m talking about ammo. Every round you pop off when you get into a gun fight, the casing goes somewhere, you need more gunpowder, more lead, another primer, a copper jacket if that’s your thing. You have to make these decisions in the fight and on the fly.”

  “I understand,” she said.

  “I’m not yanking your girl-chain. You think about the primer you popped, the casing that’s gone—if you’re forced to leave it—the gunpowder you’ll need to reload a fresh round, the bullet you’re going to have to create. There will be a time when we run out of rounds and if we haven’t been smart, this will be one of a hundred possible reasons that we’ll die, or worse.”

  She started to understand what he was talking about, where he was coming from. He and his family were out here on their own, living off the land, defending their property with weapons and intimidation, as evidenced by the dead body a couple hundred yards away. The fact that they were planning for a dark future made everyone start thinking differently. Now, with her latest intel, it seemed like it would be here sooner rather than later.

  “A swaging wad cutter is a machine you use to press your bullets,” he said, pulling her from her short reverie. “You need to understand how the machine is built, why it works the way it does. You need to know how to thread and unthread the press, how to seat the punches, the proper amount of lubrication between the parts.”

  “What about the lead?” she asked.

  “I have a thousand pounds of cores,” he said. “Best to have what I can in case situations somehow get a bit sticky, which they will.”

  “Doing this, making bullets, that’s your specialty, though,” she said. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m all about learning new things and pulling my weight…”

  “If I die, who continues the process?” he asked. He was reaching back down to Cooper again, who was now nuzzling up against his leg.

  “You’re still young,” she said.

  “My kind of young in a modern world isn’t young if you’re living in the dark ages, surviving off the land, defending your property, and under Communist rule.”

  “How old are you?” she asked.

  “Sixty-three.”

  “Orbey?”

  “She says it’s not polite to talk age with women, but I’ll tell you this, with me she’s robbing the cradle,” he answered with a conspiratorial wink.

  “So what’s this swage wadmaking thingamajobber?”

  “Swaging wad cutter. It makes the bullet. Some people melt lead alloys in molds, but for us old school guys, we basically compress and shape the cores into a slug using pure, mechanical force. I don’t mess around with heat and all that jazz because, if the power goes out, then you can’t make anymore lead.”

  “I’m less worried about the power going out than I am about having to drop down and polish the Chicom boot.”

  “We don’t do that here,” he said, sitting up. “Just so you know, we’re proud Americans. We aren’t bootlickers, we don’t acquiesce to those Commie pricks, and we won’t give up anything without shoving the full force of our will straight up their rusty tailpipes.”

  “That’s you and Orbey,” Harper said. “And that’s me. But what about Stephani? She seems a little…eccentric.”

  “She loves her bees enough to punch a hole right through you if you mess with them.”

  “I gather,” she laughed.

  “She’s just misunderstood,” he explained.

  “Yeah?”

  “She took up with a guy in town last year,” he said, leaning in. “Got that just-right taste for a new life. A love life, if you know what I mean.”

  “You mean she lost her virginity?” Harper asked, quietly.

  “Shhh,” he said. “I wasn’t saying that if anyone asks, but right now I’m not saying I didn’t say that.”

  “Sorry,” she said. “Go on.”

  “Anyway, she and her new beau were in town when a military brigade rumbled by. Those sickle and hammer cocksuckers—pardon my French—they paraded through town in their jeeps and their transport trucks like we were lucky to have them there. And Stephani’s new man, being strapping and in love, with all that false bravado coursing through him, he decides to exercise his defiance.”

  “Uh, oh…”

  “He double barrels them as th
ey passed through”—and this is where Connor whipped out the double middle-fingers for effect—“telling them to suck a giant…well, you know what…and he did that for Stephani, like a complete fool in love.”

  “What happened?” she asked, rapt.

  “They shot him in the head then laughed about it. One minute my daughter was standing there with her new man, her life finally coming together, and then she was standing over his corpse. Even worse, his blood was all over her.”

  “My God,” she said.

  “Yeah, you’re spot on. Anywho, she don’t sleep well now, gets a little hostile over stupid stuff, and spends a lot of time with those bees. I swear, them little flying creatures—when push comes to shove, if its about either the bees or us, for either cause, she’ll go down fighting, I assure you that.”

  “That’s good to know.” Nodding her head, envious of their bond, Harper said, “You’re a tight family. That makes you a very lucky family.”

  “We stick together.”

  “Me being the new girl, an outsider,” she said, “it must be strange having me here.”

  “I won’t lie,” he said. “It is.”

  “What about you?” she asked Cooper. “Are you okay with me?”

  The dog lifted its head, gave her the once over, then whined in the back of his throat and laid back down.

  “He hasn’t decided yet,” Orbey said from behind them. “He’s still developing his instincts about others, though.”

  They both turned around and the older-than-sixty-three year old woman had the most beautiful smile on her face. Her hair was fashioned into a ponytail, her eyes were bright, and her clothes were pressed and nice.

  “Seeing you smiling is probably the best part of my day,” Harper said, “yet it’s also very strange and hard to get used to.”

  “Why is that?” she asked, her smile infectious.

  “Because no one really smiles in the city anymore. If you’re smiling, the Chicoms think it’s because you have something over on them. For us, down there, it’s like wiggling a slab of meat in front of a rabid dog.”

  “That sounds terrible,” she said.

  “I watched a man and woman laughing once, not knowing the Chicoms were out on foot patrol. They interrogated the couple and then they shot them. We all watched it happen.”

  “Right there?” Connor asked. “Right in the street?”

  “Interrogations from them are about three or four questions, followed by barked orders to turn around, or get on their knees. No sooner are they in position do the gunshots crack into the air and justice is served.”

  The smile fell from Orbey’s face. Harper instantly felt bad. She didn’t mean to take away the fresh start to her day, but those were the realities of the life she lived. The life much of the urban west coast was living.

  “Hundreds of people die a month in the streets by firing squad,” she continued. “A few of them are justified. People like you and me, people who refuse to drop down and suck the Communist D—pardon me, Orbey—lose their minds. It happens all the time. They go aggro and try to take out as many of those Commie pricks as they can.”

  “Can’t say I blame them,” Connor said.

  “More times than not, these impulse vigilantes get shot dead in the charge. Nothing gained, everything lost. Sometimes, though, they die victorious.”

  “What’s victorious?” Orbey asked.

  “They take out a few of these monsters before being killed.”

  “The monsters always retaliate though,” Connor said. “At least that’s what Skylar said.”

  “They kill ten innocents for every one of theirs,” Harper said.

  “Like the Nazis,” Orbey whispered.

  “I’m so sorry, Orbey,” Harper said, realizing she’d officially sucked a lot of energy out of the woman. “Please don’t let the light in your eyes die on my account. Let’s talk about something good.”

  “How did you sleep?” she asked, perking up a little.

  “So much better, thank you,” Harper answered. “Just out of curiosity, the shower around back, does the water ever heat up?” She was talking about their outdoor plumbing. Not that the icy, outdoor shower was any less rustic than everything else around there.

  “It’s a touch chilly,” Connor said.

  Harper laughed out loud and said, “I’m surprised it’s not dripping ice cubes. I mean, I’ve taken my fair share of cold showers, but standing out back with nothing but Mother Nature all around you, a girl can quickly freeze her tits off.”

  Orbey gave a low chuckle and said, “I’m cooking eggs, who wants some?”

  “I do,” Connor and Harper said at the same time.

  “Jinx,” they both said to each other.

  “Double jinx,” they said quickly, laughing.

  “Triple jinx,” Connor said a touch faster than Harper because now Harper was laughing even harder.

  “Dammit!” she barked, but by then everyone was laughing, everyone but Cooper who looked up, smiled, then got up and stretched.

  Pretty soon he was jumping and licking everything with a surface and warming up for a morning run and a poop.

  Stephani came through the back door and said, “Got the double brood set up, but there’s a car down there. I think it’s the Sheriff.”

  Shaking her head, frowning, Orbey said, “If I have to answer questions, Connor, you’ll have to watch the eggs.”

  “I don’t cook,” he said.

  “Then stir,” she replied, cracking the eggs over a hot skillet. “You can do that, right?”

  “I s’pose.”

  “I’ll collect the eggs from the chicken coop,” Harper said. “If you want.”

  “Wait until the girls are out ranging,” Stephani said. “And if there’s any spots on the eggs, dirt or whatever, just give it a soft scrape.”

  “Can’t I just wash them?” Harper asked.

  “If you do, make sure you use really hot water, not cold. And only use it on the affected spot. The shells are porous, and you’re already rubbing off the bloom that protects the egg.”

  “Just show me where the chicken coop, or whatever is,” Harper said. “And I’ll figure it out.”

  “It’s easy,” Orbey said. “There’s a basket, and the nesting boxes have curtains over them. As long as the hens are out, collect away. We’ll go over the rest when you get back.”

  “I was offering so that I could go now,” Harper said. “I need a reason to be somewhere else when the Sheriff arrives.”

  Orbey pulled aside the curtains and said, “Too late. He’s already on his way up.”

  Harper liked the man, but if she got too far inside his radar, she feared he might become interested in her on a more professional level. She wanted to repel him, not spark his curiosity. The second his boots hit the wooden porch, she took a deep breath. You’re just fine, she told herself. Back in the city, her aggressive behavior had worked, but the more he saw of her, the more he might start to wonder about her and she didn’t need that.

  There was a knock on the door. She sat at the kitchen table, tried to still her beating heart.

  Connor got up, opened the door and said, “Morning, Sheriff. What brings you all the way up here?”

  “I just have a couple of questions,” he said. “I’d come in, but my boots are a bit dirty from the walk up.”

  Realizing that hiding looked more suspicious than not, Harper got up and went to the door, surprising him. He took off his hat for her and his hair was a mess. He didn’t seem to notice. Of course, he wasn’t smiling either.

  All those books she used to read, the books where the man in uniform was dashing and handsome and in possession of ocean blue eyes that were piercing and could see right through a woman, right down to her soul…this was not that man.

  “Oh, it’s you,” he said.

  “I was gonna say the same thing,” she replied, fixing him with a frown.

  “If he’s got dirty shoes,” Orbey called around the corner, “he ain’t s
etting foot in this house!”

  “I’m fine, Mrs. Madigan,” he said, slipping them off.

  “Are those your Sunday socks?” Harper asked when his first foot left the boot. She was looking at a sock with two holes in the toes.

  “Could be,” he frowned, starting on the other boot. “You’ve got to watch this one, though. It’s holier than thou.”

  He removed the other boot and sure enough, there were three holes in that one. Standing there with bed head and religious socks, he said, “Can I come in now?”

  “I’m whipping up some eggs if you’d like a few, Sheriff,” Orbey said, a smile on her face, her apron clean and pressed.

  “I just ate, but thank you.”

  “So what brings you out here?” Connor asked.

  “Like I said, I’ve got some questions.”

  “About?”

  “A dead body,” the Sheriff said.

  “What’s that got to do with us?” Connor asked. Harper watched the Sheriff intently, but he wasn’t interested in her.

  “He was last seen getting shot on your property. Orbey and I touched on this subject yesterday, in town.”

  “We’ve been shooting at a lot of people lately,” Stephani said as she came waltzing in the kitchen with Cooper, who was now nuzzling into the Sheriff’s lap. “Let him sniff your balls or it’ll drive him crazy.”

  “Good God,” he muttered. To Cooper, the Sheriff said, “For the record, this makes me very uncomfortable.”

  “It’s only uncomfortable if you enjoy it,” Harper replied.

  No one said a thing, which meant the joke went over like a lead balloon. When Cooper was done, he sneezed in the man’s lap, eliciting a jump and a groan, and then the Sheriff pushed the dog’s head away.

  “Alright, enough,” he finally said. “Get the mutt out of here.”

  “His name’s Cooper, he’s part of the family, and I expect you treat it with the same respect you’d afford the rest of us,” Orbey said.

  “Stephani said you’ve been shooting at people a lot lately, so if you’re looking for respect, it starts with straight answers.”

  “You don’t do squat about poachers, which means they feel free to roam our land when they see fit,” Connor said. “Well we don’t see fit anymore.”