The Long Summer

by Rod Rayborne

  Owen fired indiscriminately into the mutineers, screaming with rage. He continued to do so until a large man of the soldiers ran forward, reaching up for Owen's carbine, yanking it out of his hand. The horse reared and dumped Owen unceremoniously onto the pavement. The big man pushed a shrieking Owen onto his stomach and pulled his arms behind his back. Another soldier jumped forward and together they tied Owen's hands together. Then they hauled him to his feet. When Owen began to scream once again, the first soldier gave him an upper cut that brought cries of pain.

  While this was happening, the crowd told the kneeling soldiers to stand, assisting the men to their feet once more. There they embraced and stood together, grinning and slapping each other on their backs, merging into one. The sense of freedom and jubilance grew and together, they walked away from their guns, their tanks, their artillery. They walked out of the square seven hundred and thirty two men, women and children, plus one. They were escorted by almost two thousand men and women in uniform. They walked away unimpeded and never looked back. Friday, the thirteenth. A lucky day.

  Chapter Sixty Six

  A cold wind gusted unexpectedly against Sofia's legs, forcing her to stamp them to warm up. She looked questioningly at Gordon and then over her shoulder at the western horizon. Far over the ocean, above the smoke and dust from the city, heavy black clouds had begun to form, low undulating shapes like coiled vipers lying in wait for the perfect moment to strike. The wind had a bite. Gordon frowned at the scene, buttoning his shirt higher, ineffectually. The day before it had been pleasant. They'd almost grown used to the heat. Now even fifty degrees felt cold. Few people were out now. Those few who were, paid them no attention.

  Around them, mingled gusts of light snow and white ash drifted. It blew in flurries when the wind kicked up and then settled back to its lazy meandering when it died back again. White drifted over the landscape in slow sweeps, building up around buildings, cars, light poles like waves of the ocean that never retreated. Sparse, much of it unmelting, the ground was slowly being transformed into a winter wonderland. Sofia thought it one of the most beautiful things she'd ever seen. A blizzard in LA.

  "I'd like to pick up a sweater somewhere," she said.

  "Yeah, I'm with you on that. How about at that department store next block up? Might grab me some gloves while I'm at it, hey?"

  "Pants for me. Winter's in the air."

  "Winter in July. Go figure."

  They walked across the street, passing between the cars, ignoring the crunch of windshields and fallen plate glass windows from a skyscraper a block away. A billboard on the side of the building advertised the next big Hollywood blockbuster. Something about climate change. A desert scene with a single burned tree and parched, cracked ground, a number of people staggering through the heat haze towards a line of broken buildings smoking in the distance. The title of the thriller, Warm, was written in a melting font that turned to blood as it dripped down the sign. Neither Gordon or Sofia noticed it.

  The wind kicked up again and they jogged the rest of the way to the department store. The sun was still high up in the sky but it would be down in less than three hours. There was plenty of sidelight coming through the front of the building, casting its contents in long shadows. They parted at the cash registers, Gordon walking to the right to the men's department and Sofia to the women's. The shadows stretched into the black obscurity they'd grown used too seeing, a housewares section at the back that they had no interest in exploring.

  Perhaps one day in the future it might be fun to pick through the mess for whatever we might need to fluff out a house together, Sofia thought quietly. She kept the thought to herself.

  Gordon found a section with slacks but passed it by to look for jeans. He wanted something for the road. Fancy clothes were impractical, silk, satin, old school. Cotton was what he was looking for. Cotton and leather. He continued to browse, moving through the aisles, stepping over clothes, bodies, fallen shelves and debris that had blown in from outside.

  A loud whoop broke the quiet. A man's voice. Gordon jumped and looked towards the area where Sofia had gone. He saw a man in a black uniform and matching cap staring down at something he couldn't see, a shelving unit blocking it. Another similarly dressed man was standing on the other side, glaring as well. At the same time, he heard a scream, a woman shriek. Sofia. Then he saw three other men jogging towards the first two, guns drawn. More black uniforms.

  So many.

  Gordon ducked below a shelving unit, his heart juddering against his ribs, that old electric terror seizing him once again. He was one man and had no weapons. He looked towards the entrance.

  A scream again. Genuine fear echoing in the windowless showroom. Anger narrowed his eyes, made his teeth come together in a furious snarl as much at himself for even considering a retreat as at the black caps. He looked back the way he had come. Another black cap had come in and was standing where Gordon had been just a moment before.

  He crawled to a spot near the man, just behind him. The black cap was ignoring the altercation, instead looking closely at something in his left hand. In the right, he was carrying a carbine, loosely aimed at the floor.

  Gordon hesitated again, his hands trembling. Then before he could change his mind, he stood up quietly and taking a step forward, quickly threw his arm around the man's throat. He yanked him backwards as quickly and quietly as he could, pulling him down to the floor. He held him there in a choke hold until the soldier stopped his struggles and lay still.

  Gordon dropped the man's head gently to the carpet and felt for a pulse. Finding one, he grabbed a shirt from those lying near him and tied the man's hands and feet together behind him. Another rag he tied around the man's mouth. Then he lifted the man's rifle from the floor where it had fallen.

  Feeling an unexpected surge of adrenaline race through his body, he stood and ran around the escalator that bisected the room, crouching low, hands shaking at the feel of the feel of the gun, heart battering like a jackhammer. Then he got to the jewelry department, bent lower still and looked towards the men.

  From here he saw the first man yanking Sofia's arms behind her back roughly, securing them with a wide black zip tie. As Gordon closed the distance between them, he noticed a small gold star on each of their black caps. A third man, the leader, had a narrow leather binder in which he was writing.

  "You alone here, Miss?" he asked Sofia.

  "I'm alone," she said, never taking her eyes from his.

  Gordon felt more rage at himself in the face of Sofia's attempt to protect him from discovery. Perhaps she thought him even now fleeing the scene to save his own skin. The thought brought a glimmer to his eyes.

  "Who are you?" she asked, her voice shaking.

  "Lieutenant Dowell, Law Enforcement, New States of America. Working with the army."

  "New States of America?" she repeated.

  Ignoring her question, he turned to the three men behind him.

  "Scout out both floors for anyone else."

  "I told you I was alone."

  "Mexican?"

  "What does..."

  "Are you aware that the country is under Martial Law?"

  "Martial what?" Sofia asked.

  "You're supposed to be in your home except for certain limited times as proscribed by law."

  "My home is gone. Along with my family."

  "What are you doing here, Miss," he said, again ignoring her response. "Hoping to catch a good sale?"

  Before she could answer, he called out to the three men.

  "Go hot. There is someone else here."

  The men stopped and pulled out their side arms.

  He turned back to Sofia. The second officer held her in one massive paw and with the other he was pulling things out of the pockets of her shorts.

  "Go on," Lieutenant Dowell said, waving his pen at her.

  "Believe it or not, you're the first people I've seen since the Blow.

  "Not. That means I don't believe you. But
please continue."

  "What did I do, your honor?" Sofia asked sarcastically.

  "What did you do? What didn't you do? How did you come by all those nice presents in your bag there?"

  He pushed her pack around with a boot, watching the contents spill out onto the floor.

  "They were mine. I brought them from home, your honor."

  Dowell reached out and slapped her across the face. Sofia fell back, aghast.

  "You hit me! You don't have a right to hit me. You'll lose your job for that!"

  "Times have changed, Miss. Or haven't you noticed? Too bad for you and yours. But you're more than welcome to lodge a complaint. Send it to me in three-part triplicate and I'll see that it gets filed. Now, you want to tell me where you got the rest of this stuff?"

  "I told you..."

  Lieutenant Dowell struck her again, harder this time. A bubble of blood appeared from her lower lip. The man behind her caught her as she started to fall, pushing her back in place. Then he leaned in and said, "I'd tell the Lieutenant what he wants to know, if I were you."

  Sofia was crying now, her split lip staining her teeth red, dribbling blood onto her chest. Her hands being secured behind her, she tried to wipe it away with a bare shoulder.

  "I thought I was the only one left. I needed these things. It wasn't like I was stealing. It was survival."

  The Lieutenant reached around and picked up a pair of diamond earrings from the small pile the other officer had found in her pockets.

  "And these? You were planning to eat these too, were you? How about those gold pistols or that gold armlet? What is it, a snake? Those were for survival too?"

  "I found the guns in a store. I didn't know what to expect. I've seen dogs running loose."

  "Yeah, there are dogs. Doubt you needed gold pistols to take care of yourself though."

  "So what, am I under arrest?"

  "Like I said Miss, times have changed. We don't have the resources to man a lockup at the moment. You're a looter. You should know what happens to looters."

  Sofia began to cry, now thoroughly frightened.

  The Lieutenant continued to write, chuckling lightly.

  "Guess you should have thought about that before you came in here, hmm?" He looked at her again, shaking his head and then went back to his notebook.

  A metallic click interrupted the Lieutenant's reverie. He jumped, twisting to the left, reaching for his own gun.

  "That was the safety," Gordon growled through gritted teeth. "You're a piece of work, Lieutenant. What are you gonna do, give her to a firing squad for lifting a pair of fucking pants? Oh, before you say anything else, I'd advise the two men creeping up on me from behind to walk around here and lay down their weapons. And your man aiming a rifle at me from the escalator. Tell them all to come out here where I can see them."

  Then Gordon raised his voice for the men behind him. "If you do decide to put a bullet through my brain, keep in mind that I'm holding an automatic on your two friends here. My finger's on the trigger and the safety is off, so even though you can take me out, likely I'll shoot by reflex alone. So why don't you come on over?"

  "You shoot and you might hit your lying girlfriend instead," Dowell said.

  "Yep, I know. Better that than what you've got planned for her, I suspect."

  The Lieutenant stared at Gordon a moment and then waved his men over. One by one they passed Gordon, throwing looks of hatred at him. Then they stood with the others.

  "I said drop your guns. Over there in that aisle. All of them."

  The men looked at the Lieutenant and he nodded. They walked to where Gordon was pointing with the carbine and put down their guns. Still the Lieutenant stood holding the binder in his hands.

  "That means you too, Lieutenant. You most of all."

  Dowell put down the notebook and walked over, dropping his .45 on the pile. He turned towards Gordon, holding out his hands.

  "Good enough?" he asked, wiggling his fingers.

  "Not quite." Gordon nodded at Sofia. She pulled her arms, still tied behind her, out of the second officer's grasp.

  "Now, Lieutenant, get back over there with the rest of them, away from those guns."

  Dowell walked slowly back to where he had been standing.

  "You two are in a whole lot of trouble," he said with a grin. "I guess I don't need to tell you that though, do I?"

  "How tall are you, Lieutenant? Six one, six two? How big is the girl you just hit?"

  "Oh that's nothing compared to what's coming. Believe me you. Looting is bad enough. But now you're threatening officers of the law. Wouldn't want to be you right now."

  "What do you think is going to happen to the stuff in the stores around here? You think the owners are going to come back, fix it all up again, sell those pants?"

  "Likely it'll all go in the dumpster."

  "And those rags destined for the dumpster are worth this girl's life?"

  "I'm not here to interpret the law. I'm just here to enforce it."

  "And what if she were your daughter? Would you feel the same?"

  "Everyone plays by the same rules, son."

  "You're a real son of a bitch. All you guys stand over there, against that wall. I won't shoot you, like you would us, unless you force me too, but I'm going to collect your weapons. Just so you're not tempted to pop some old lady in the back for taking a bottle of aspirin, you understand."

  Dowell turned as though to do as he was told, then shouted at the man standing closest to Sofia.

  "Grab her!"

  The man jumped forward, grasping her by her hair as she started to run, yanking her off her feet. Gordon shouldered the carbine and shot towards them, aiming four feet above their heads. The automatic weapon sprayed the wall behind them, sending plaster in all directions. The power of the weapon shocked him, but he kept that to himself.

  "Next five are yours, boss. What's it gonna be?"

  The man smiled but said nothing. The next thing Gordon knew, he was thrown against the metal rack behind which he had been standing. His face hit a shelf hard and he felt teeth splintering.

  While this was happening, the Lieutenant ran forward and grabbed Sofia's heels and together with the man at her head, carried her backwards as both a shield and hostage. Then the other three men ran for their guns where they lay on the floor.

  Sofia was shrieking, kicking viciously at the Lieutenant as he struggled to hold her feet.

  "Shut your trap!" the man grasping her hair shouted. He transferred his grip to her arms, still tied behind her. If anything, she only got louder, kicking out at the Lieutenant all the more. Then she caught him, one foot striking his nose square on. The Lieutenant let out a howl and dropped her feet. He stumbled backwards, hands over face. Then Sofia swept her legs over her head and wrapped her thighs around the neck of the man holding her shoulders. He let go of her but her legs around his neck kept her from hitting the floor. She locked her ankles and squeezed her legs together as the man reached up to try to pull them apart. They tottered around the floor, his face turning red as he fought for air. Seconds later he went slack, slipping to the floor unconscious while she rolled away.

  A third man jumped at her then, more intent on stopping this whirlwind than catching her. He took a swing at her, a mighty blow that would have crushed her skull had it connected. But he went wide, hitting a steel rack instead. He staggered back, howling in agony, broken fingers twisted in a bloody hash.

  A forth man, not wanting to take any chances, grabbed a metal pole and raised it high above his head. Sofia ducked, bending to receive the blow.

  Meanwhile, the man standing behind Gordon grabbed him in a headlock and was slowly suffocating him. Gordon kicked out, his feet pushing against a floor pillar by chance, propelling them both backwards. The man's feet slipped out from beneath him and he fell backwards onto the bottom corner edge of a store rack, Gordon's weight on top of him. Immediately he let go of Gordon with a scream, grabbing his side. Gordon, still facing forwar
d, threw his arm back, elbow first, into the face of the man. Immediately he went slack and Gordon jumped up, coughing, sweat streaming down his face, running towards the carbine he had taken from the first man he had encountered. A fusillade of bullets seared the air around his head and he ducked as he ran. Where was the carbine? In his confusion, he couldn't find it anywhere.

  Looking around, he saw the .45 belonging to the man he had just knocked out laying next to him. He jumped forward, picked it up and swung around in one fluid motion, aiming haphazardly at the man swinging the pipe at Sofia. The man brought the pole down hard to land with a soft thud.

  "Just a little something to remember me by," he shouted triumphantly. He swung the pipe over his head again as Gordon squeezed the trigger.

  The bullet removed the back of his head, exiting through his clenched teeth to lodge itself in the wall holding big and tall women brassieres. Before the man fell, Gordon turned his gun on the fifth man. The man saw him at the same moment and ducked behind an empty wall still holding a variety of cheap vinyl purses. Gordon ran forward, looking desperately for him when the man chanced a glance around the corner. Gordon emptied three rounds into the wall above his head. The man turned to see the damage and then looked back at Gordon.

  "Get out of here!" Gordon roared at him.

  The man turned and ran for the front of the store.

  Then Gordon twisted around to see what had become of the man who had been hit in the ear. He and the Lieutenant were sitting on the floor, trying to reload their sidearms with shaking hands. Gordon ran towards them, pointing the gun and shot once between them. They scrambled up and Gordon motioned towards the front of the store with an angry sweep of the gun he held in both hands. Not needing to be told twice, the men ran out of the store.

  Gordon spun around to see if there were anymore black caps and seeing none, turned to find Sofia. Not seeing her, he called out, running forward towards the place he had last seen her.