by Lopez, Rob
Rick raised an eyebrow. “You sure? I thought Daniel looked pretty confident today, and if we do run across this other group, I need another opinion. A skeptical opinion.”
Lauren cut in. “Actually, you might need some diplomacy, so it’s best if I come.” She exchanged a knowing glance with April, and both women fought to keep a straight face.
“That’s right,” said April, a little too loudly. “Knowing me, I’d just shoot my mouth off. Lauren’s better for that kind of thing.”
Rick shrugged, failing to notice the conspiratorial undercurrent. “Okay. We’ll consider a training schedule for another time. Unless someone wants to add something, we’ll close the meeting here and turn in.”
16
“You didn’t notice, did you?” said Lauren.
“Notice what?”
“That April’s got a thing for Scott.”
“I don’t care about stuff like that,” murmured Rick.
They were lying under a hedge at the back of a parking lot, next to a line of boutique shops: A bridal atelier, a juice bar, a holistic therapy center for pet dogs. Across the street was a gas station with a brand-new Porsche that didn’t look so shiny anymore. The plush houses they’d passed so far had been spared the worst of the looting, like the evacuation in this neighborhood had been more orderly and civilized. The metal covers of the underground gas tanks at the station had all been lifted off, however, like someone had done their best to get at the fuel. The fill caps of all the nearby vehicles had been broken open. Somebody wanted fuel more than they wanted juice or bridal gowns. Or food, judging by the single can that had been dropped outside the entrance of the gas station Circle K. Wasn’t worth turning around to pick that up, for some reason.
“Might be worth paying attention to what happens in our little community,” suggested Lauren.
“Sure,” said Rick, not really listening. The early morning cold seeped through his fatigues and he was already thinking ahead to getting coats and gloves for everyone. And thermal underwear. The clubhouse was likely to get really cold during the coming days, and everybody needed to get used to functioning without regular heating. Especially the children. Keeping physically busy would help.
“I’m going to check out the store,” he said. “Cover me from here.”
Rick ran across to the gas station and flattened himself against the wall by the entrance. The door had been forced open, and some looting had clearly taken place, but the shelves hadn’t been completely swept clean. Soap, shampoo and a few ramen packets remained. The storeroom at the back contained bottles of kerosene and antifreeze. Rick filled his bag and picked up the fallen can of beans on the way out, waving Lauren over.
“This place has looting potential,” he said. “Mark it on your map.”
Heading over to the underground tanks, he peered down through the hatch. The smell was overpowering, but he knew it could just be fumes. Taking a fill cap that had been discarded nearby, he dropped down the hatch and listened. An audible plop told him there was still gasoline in the tank.
Not a lot of use to him unless he had a car or a generator. But he made a note of it, nonetheless.
Leaving the main drag, they entered a maze of meandering streets and cul de sacs, the ground rising and falling, with small woods left here and there between the houses. The wooden buildings were older and smaller than the mansions they’d left behind, and they encountered a stream that ran through the woods, probably all that was left of a time when the neighborhood had been forest and villages. Tramping past rope swings that hung from branches, Rick eyed the hunting potential as squirrels scurried up tree trunks and a hidden rabbit shot off through the undergrowth in an explosion of leaves. Gliding stealthily through the mini-Eden, he froze when he caught sight of human-sized movement.
Through a gap in the greenery, he was surprised to see an elderly woman in her garden. With a basket hanging from the crook of her elbow, she was pruning roses. Behind her, almost obscuring a modest bungalow, was a large greenhouse.
Rick glanced back at Lauren to confirm that he was truly seeing what he thought he was seeing. She craned her neck to get a better view, then pulled a face to confirm that, yes, she could see it, but no, she couldn’t explain it. The woman continued to tend to her garden, talking to herself, or her plants, as she worked, her white hair tied back in a long ponytail.
Feeling like some savage from the wilds encountering civilization for the first time, Rick wondered how to play this. The woman seemed quite unconcerned with her own security, but he wasn’t sure how she’d react if she saw him. Nor if there was anyone else in the house who might be less laid back in their demeanor. He thought about the shooter the day before and wondered if they had any connection to this abode.
He considered scouting around the other side of the house, but it was impossible to be completely quiet in this undergrowth, and if the woman detected someone sneaking around, it would be natural for her to assume the worst.
Weighing his options, Rick took a chance. Pushing his rifle around his back on its sling, he stood up. “Hello there,” he called out.
The woman looked around, unable to see him in the shadows. Rick stepped forward.
“Well, hi,” said the woman as he came into view. She looked mildly surprised, but little more.
Rick walked up to her fence. “I didn’t expect to find someone still here,” he said.
A shaggy Golden Retriever bounded out of the house, barking.
“Hush, Bella,” admonished the woman.
A fit-looking but elderly gentleman came out of the house, brandishing a double-barreled shotgun. He too wore a ponytail, though his hair had receded to baldness on his crown. “Janice?” he called.
“It’s okay, honey,” replied the woman. “It’s just a soldier.”
“Soldier, huh?” said the man, keeping his gun leveled as he approached. The dog kept barking. “What’s your unit, son?”
Rick wasn’t sure how to answer that, but settled for a version of the truth. “3rd Special Forces Group. Detached.”
“Detached? What does that mean?”
“It means I’m here with my family.” He turned around to let Lauren know that was her cue.
Lauren emerged from the undergrowth with an uncertain look, as if she wasn’t sure this might be a good idea. “Hi,” she said.
The dog had calmed down. He came up to the fence to sniff at them.
“Hello there, young lady,” said Janice. “That’s so sweet. Are you in the army too?”
Lauren shouldered her rifle. “Used to be,” she said. “Just going for the look, this time. Kind of never goes out of fashion, if you know what I mean.”
The man lowered his shotgun. “So what are you doing here?”
Again, Rick wondered how much he should tell them. He kept it vague. “We might be moving into the area. Which would make us neighbors.”
The man studied him for a moment, then chuckled. “Haven’t had any of those for a while.” He scratched his head. “All I can say is, it’s a quiet neighborhood.”
“Look at us here,” said Janice, “gossiping at the fence. Why don’t you come inside? I’ll put some coffee on.”
*
“Can’t say we got on too well with the neighbors,” said the man, puffing on his pipe. He’d introduced himself as Chuck. “Except for Patty, God rest her soul.”
“Oh, but there was that poor Mrs. Granville. Her husband was a truck driver and she waited and waited for him to come home. She was beside herself with worry,” said Janice.
“We helped some folks out,” said Chuck, “but some got really uppity. One guy said we had a duty to distribute our vegetables to everyone in the street. I told him to come and get them if he dared. He said he’d report me to the cops if we didn’t.” Chuck laughed. “That was real funny.”
“Everybody left for those camps they were talking about,” said Janice, “and a policeman said it would only be temporary. But we haven’t heard from anybody since.
”
They sat in the kitchen next to the cold woodstove. On the table was a Primus stove, freshly harvested carrots, some glass jars and a jug of vinegar. In the living room, there were blankets, candles and two piles of books.
“You’ve not had any trouble, here on your own?” asked Rick.
Chuck shook his head. “We’re kind of isolated. Even the UPS driver couldn’t find us, sometimes. Place has always been quiet.”
Lauren sipped at her coffee, glorying in the taste. It was the first coffee she’d had in weeks. “Do you have any children?” she asked.
“No. Just Bella,” said Janice with a distant smile, ruffling the dog’s fur. “It must have been awful for those folks whose children moved out of the state. Everything is so far away now.”
“Are you confident of making it through the winter?” asked Rick. “Because from what we’ve seen, this is anything but temporary.”
“I wouldn’t say we’re confident,” mused Chuck, “but you do what you have to do, right? I’ve planted cabbages and cauliflower, and we’ve got a small kerosene heater in the greenhouse to ward off the frosts. Weather’s turning real fast and I think we’re in for a hard winter.”
“We’re seeing a lot more woolly bears in the garden,” said Janice.
“Bears?” said Rick.
“Hairy caterpillars,” explained Chuck. “Always a sign. But I bet if it gets hard in the mountains, we could get real bears coming down. Coyotes too. There’s nothing to stop them now.”
Rick didn’t think they would be the only predators coming down from the mountains if things got bad. “I’m worried about your security. There’s others in the city, and still more likely to come in.”
“Oh, I know we’re not completely alone,” said Chuck. “Heard a lot of gunfire yesterday. No doubt there are some crazies taking shots at each other. Some nights, when the wind’s right, you can hear what sounds like a generator coming from up north.”
“A generator?”
“Yeah. Maybe it’s folks like us. Maybe not. We keep ourselves to ourselves. Sometimes it’s the best way. At this time of year I usually go up to Reedy Creek National Park to pick mushrooms. Good harvest there, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to risk it this year. Truck’s broke and it could mean a walk through bad neighborhoods. Apart from that, we’ve got pretty much everything we need here. We grow and preserve our own food, and I’ve got a store in the cellar. I’ve even got a tobacco plant, which is my one indulgence.” Chuck waved his pipe.
“Actually, I wanted to ask something,” cut in Lauren. “I took some bean and tomato plants in and tried to grow them indoors, but they died. What did I do wrong?”
“If you uprooted them from outside,” said Chuck, “the shock would have killed them. You should have had them in pots, then you could have moved them wherever you wanted.”
“I’d like to propose a deal,” said Rick, bringing the conversation back on-topic. “If we escort you safely to Reedy Creek and back, will you show us what mushrooms we could be picking ourselves?”
Chuck puffed in surprise. “Hey, that’s some distance away.”
Rick took out his map. “It’s about ten miles. If we give ourselves a whole day for it, we could manage it.”
“You might, young man,” said Chuck, “but I doubt I will.”
“How about you use the bikes?” said Lauren.
“Been shot at once already,” said Rick. “Not sure I want to risk it.”
Janice leaned over to look at the map. “What about the woods at Eastover Ridge, honey?” she said to Chuck. “That ain’t so far, and we picked mushrooms there too. It’s by Briar Creek.”
“We came that way a couple of days ago,” confirmed Rick. “If we stick to the creek, it’s a safe route. What do you say?”
Chuck looked from Rick to his wife, then back again. “I say some people are trying to make my decisions for me. I haven’t agreed to go anywhere yet.”
“It’s just an idea,” shrugged Rick. “We help you, you help us. A straight trade. Have a think about it.” He delved into his bag for a bottle of kerosene and placed it on the table. “And this is a thank you for the coffee. Best one I’ve had in a long while.”
*
“You were a little too direct with that mushroom thing,” said Lauren after they’d left and returned to their patrol along the creek.
“I like to get to the point. There’s only so much small talk I can stand. The way I see it, these people can make a valuable contribution to all of us. They’ve got the knowledge. I’m worried about how vulnerable they are, though. If we help them out and get to know them, we might be able to persuade them to move into the clubhouse with us.”
“Rick, that’s their home. They won’t leave it so easily. And what about all those plants? And the greenhouse? That’s their food.”
“Greenhouse can be dismantled,” said Rick blithely. “And the plants can be moved. Remember what he said about them being in pots? I took a look as we passed by. It’s all portable.”
“You’ve got it all figured out, haven’t you, with people moved around like chess pieces on a board. Don’t you think you might be a little too clinical for these people’s liking?”
“Maybe, but I don’t think we’ve got that much time, and I’m not just thinking about the turning weather. Did you see how easily they admitted us into their home? After just one drink, we know they’ve got a dog, stores in the basement and ample food growing outside, all guarded by just one shotgun. What if we had been someone else? They’re nice people, but there are others out there who’ll take advantage of that, and if some of them are cunning and ruthless enough … well, I’ll let you fill in the blanks. And I’d like to know a little more about this possible group to the north before I feel this area’s really secure.”
“I hear what you’re saying. It’s just that you’ve got to let people get used to us, first. Not everyone’s going to accept taking orders from you.”
Rick stopped. “I wasn’t giving orders.”
Lauren gave him a disbelieving grimace. “I know you think you’re being a normal guy and all, and you were used to having a team that followed your lead, but there are some people who might think you’re a little too forward with them.”
“Forward?”
“Yeah. I know you’ve got the strategy worked out in your head, but not everyone’s on the same wavelength. You might need to win them over a little. You know, hearts and minds?”
Rick frowned. “Forward,” he reiterated with some disgust.
Lauren broke into a sweet smile. “You know I only tell you the truth because I love you.”
17
A broad two-lane driveway led up to the entrance of the clubhouse, a grand pillared portico topped by a triangular pediment and decorated with crown molding. An American flag hung on the pole erected before the entrance. Trees lined the driveway and, where the driveway met the road, a concrete plaque stood, with Myers Park Country Club in gold letters. The remains of red roses sat in the flower bed in front of the plaque, dried petals lying among the weeds that were already reaching up. To April, it looked like a grave. This was the cemetery of American bourgeois life, the drains already blocked with leaves, and the clubhouse was the tomb. April wondered if that made them ghosts.
Daniel and Lizzy gathered twigs, Josh lay camouflaged under a bush some yards away, waiting for a squirrel, and Scott sawed down one of the young trees that lined the sidewalk. As well as wanting the wood, he also wanted to clear the lines of fire from the clubhouse, giving anyone outside less cover to hide in. He’d cut down four trees already and was moving onto the fifth.
“Why’d you leave that one there?” asked April, pointing to a lone conifer that had been bypassed by Scott’s industry.
Scott wiped his brow and looked up. “That there is the Christmas tree,” he said.
“You’re serious about celebrating Christmas, aren’t you?”
“Yup.”
“Are you religious?”
“Nope. Do I have to be?”
April looked up and down the road, and across to the colonial style hotel building with its lot full of abandoned cars. She was meant to be keeping watch, and with so many windows looking down at her, she didn’t feel secure.
“I was thinking that holidays don’t have much meaning now,” she said.
“As vacations?” said Scott, resuming his sawing. “No. As celebrations? Absolutely.”
“What’s there to celebrate?” said April.
Scott leaned his hand against the sapling as he cut through the last of its girth, snapping the wood and toppling it over. “The idea that not every day has to be shitty.” Scott moved to the next tree. “In Columbia, I saw villagers go to one hell of an effort to celebrate the day of their patron saint. Those people were screwed. They had guerrillas coming out of the jungle, extorting them and demanding supplies, and they had federal cops hitting on them for bribes and occasionally dragging one of them away to be beaten and questioned. Yet they put their heart and soul into making elaborate costumes that cost them money they couldn’t afford. Why’d they do it? If you’d asked any of them, they’d have just said, 'Why not?’ I don’t think they were that religious, but they knew how to have a good time. On any given day, they could have been abducted and executed, and plenty of them were. They were determined to make sure, however, that at least one of their days would be better than the rest. I don’t see why we can’t do the same.”
“I suppose.”
Scott looked at her. “Are you one of them people who hates Christmas because it’s, like, too commercial or something?”
“No,” replied April. “It’s just that Christmas was a tough time. I had to work extra because I needed the money, and it was a struggle to find anyone to babysit Daniel for evenings or weekends, and I was so tired all the time. I guess I didn’t really make it all that special for him, and I was glad when it was over.”