by N. C. Reed
“My mother was a meth addict,” she started. “Please, let me get through this,” she raised a hand when Clay started to speak, presumably to let her know he already knew that. “Some of it you know, some you don't. Just. . .let me do this,” she pleaded.
“Okay,” he nodded.
“My father was a drunk,” she continued. “He beat my mother and me both. When he left, my mother got a boyfriend who was also a drunk. When he was drunk, he decided I was there for his entertainment. My mother didn't care because she was always high or looking for a fix. Couldn't be bothered with watching after me.”
“I endured all that until I ran away, which you know about. At the club, I didn't care about drunks because they were leaving at some point and the bouncers watched them all like hawks anyway. I was as safe there as I was anywhere in the world. So, it didn't matter.”
“But someone close to me. . .it scares me,” she admitted at last. “I'm sorry. I can make any kind of excuse you want to hear, but in the end it just comes down to me being afraid. I can't go through that again. I can't.”
“So when you said that, I. . .I kind of panicked a little. We haven't known each other that long,” she took one of his hands in both of hers. “It seems like a lifetime some days, but. . .we haven't even known each other an entire year. It takes time to really get to know someone that well. To build a firm foundation as Marla calls it. We. . .we don't have that yet and I jumped. . .I let fear drive me. No, I let it overrule my common sense.”
“In you I know I have found the one man I am supposed to spend my life with, whether it's another day or another hundred years,” she told him. “That doesn't mean that I know everything about you. Nor you about me. I'm not a control freak, but I do want things orderly and in control. I don't have to be the one calling the shots, but I can't live in an out of control situation. It. . .it paralyzes me. It makes me remember how bad things were then and I can't stand the thought of living that way again. So. . .you're right. I projected those fears on you and I didn't. . .it didn't seem to me like that was what I was doing. I just didn't want you to end up like that.”
She fell silent at that, looking him dead in the eye, waiting for his response.
“Are you done?” he asked her, similar to the way she had questioned him once before, his features carefully schooled. She nodded in response.
“I appreciate you telling me that,” he told her gently. “And I understand fear. I'm not in danger of becoming like that, Lainie. I'm not. If I were going to be an alcoholic, it would have happened after my first tour. I don't need alcohol to get through the day, or even the week or month.”
“I know,” she nodded. “I told you it was just my own fears. Nothing more. Your behavior has never given me a reason to believe anything else. Even that night, drunk as you were, you were just funny. It was like we were in high school and you were trying to get laid,” she laughed.
“I was trying to get laid,” Clay was so serious that it took her a minute to recognize the glint in his eyes as he tried to lighten things up.
“You're worse than Leon,” she giggled suddenly.
“Apple don't fall far from the tree,” he winked. “Look, just. . .stop doing things like that, okay?” he continued. “Don't make assumptions about me or my behavior, and I won't about you. If you want to know something, just ask me and I 'll tell you. And I promise that while you may not like the answer, it will always be the truth. Can you work with that?”
“Yes,” she nodded eagerly. “And I promise the same thing. Anything you want to know, just ask and I promise I 'll tell you, even if I don't want to.”
“No,” Clay shook his head. “If you don't want to tell me, just say that. It's okay to have some privacy you know. We don't own each other, Lainie. It's okay for us not to agree or not to get along about something. Just. . .don't make assumptions about me like that. That's all I ask. I won't make assumptions about you other than maybe what you'd like for dinner. Ask me and I 'll tell you. I want to be able to talk to you and tell you things-”
“I want that too,” she again nodded her head enthusiastically.
“-without you jumping to conclusions like you did with this,” he finished. “Just. . .talk to me. Not at me.”
“I promise I will do my best to never do something like that again,” she swore. “You've never done that to me and I shouldn't have to you. Even knowing what you know about me, you never looked down on me or treated me as if anything were wrong with me-”
“Nothing is wrong with you,” it was his turn to interrupt.
“-and you have no idea how rare that is in the world I came from,” she finished. “Oh, my God, I love you,” she held his hand to her face.
“I love you too,” he told her. She crawled literally into his lap and kissed him. He returned it and soon neither was thinking about the last couple of days and the problems that they hoped were now behind them.
Supper was very late.
-
After two more days, the temperature broke sometime during the night. Everyone awakened to melting snow and sunshine.
And mud.
“What a mess,” Clay muttered as worked to make his way around both farms and over to the new cabins. “Mud everywhere you look.”
“It's not a new thing,” Lainie laughed. “Snow always leaves the ground like this, Clay.”
Making up had been fun in the light of a fireplace and a few candles. They had talked deep into the night as well, and both were more comfortable with their relationship afterward. They both expected other problems in their future, but they had agreed that forging a lasting relationship meant they had to endure those kind of things. And that meant they needed that firm foundation that Marla had talked about.
“This is my first winter here in ten years,” Clay reminded her. “I spent the last three years before that in a place where winter means it's slightly less hot, dry and dusty.”
“Touche,” Lainie nodded. “Where are we going?”
“We're just making the rounds to make sure that everything is okay,” he informed her. “I try to do this once a day, at least. If the weather is good I go on horseback, but I used this the last few days because of the snow and today because of the mud. I try to check on everything of a morning and make sure nothing has gone wrong in the night.”
“Wouldn't someone call you if it did?” she asked.
“How?” he replied. “There aren't any phones and our radios can't stay on all the time. We do have a few home stations but not enough for me to have one at home when I'm usually only there at night. It's a problem we didn't think far enough ahead on,” he admitted. “Again, mostly because of my idea to just pull our heads in and hold on. And we've added all the new folks now, so we need to have at least one radio there. Robert has a few radios that we can try to get set up but they aren't short range rigs. Someone monitoring the air for radio signals might hear and come looking for us. It's not worth the risk.”
“We run a patrol at night and have the cupola manned, so that will have to do.”
“I thought we had done pretty well considering we had four days to work with,” Lainie grimaced. “I'm seeing now that while we did okay, we didn't do great.”
“I had months, along with Leon and the twins, and we still missed stuff,” he shrugged. “We did all we could think of, imagine or read about. That doesn't make the shortages any easier to live with though.”
-
The weather stayed moderate for most of the rest of January. It wasn't unseasonably warm but it was fairly mild and not too terribly wet. Once the mud had dried up it was back to work. Trees that had fallen in the storm were cut up and turned into firewood that was taken to the new cabins for use. A greenhouse was erected behind the Sanders' home, Gordon and Angela's that is, and three days spent readying it for use.
Meanwhile, Gordy had taken his idea for an electric cart to his cousins who had immediately gone to work trying to make that happen. They agreed the idea of a washing mach
ine motor sounded pretty good, but at once started trying to make it more powerful.
“I don't see why that's not enough,” Gordy objected. “I mean all it needs to do is provide the Old Man with a safe way to get around in weather like we just had.”
“But think of how useful something like that could be for other things,” Leanne pointed out. “What if the guard patrol had a quiet, efficient way to make their rounds? One we could recharge during the day with solar energy. Or a flatbed version that could haul produce in from the garden or from Pa's orchards. We should have ideally thought of this before. We missed so much,” she sighed.
“Okay, we need to go see Big Jake,” Leon announced as he finished. “We 'll need some parts but if we don't have them we can probably scrounge them somewhere. One of the main things we may need is some sheet metal and a way to form it. We can use thin wood for the bed of a truck, but we want to keep weight down to a minimum. We 'll need a roll bar behind the seats, and seats with belts to try and avoid injury if the rig tipped over. . . .”
Gordy just shook his head as the two disappeared from sight, still bouncing ideas off one another. He checked his watch and realized he had to get going. He had training in a few minutes.
-
“Well, we can do it,” Jake nodded after a few minutes. “But you know, it might just be easier to head over to the State Park first and check their golf course. I think they had some electric golf carts like yours. If they haven't been stolen and they still run, then that would be the easiest way to do this. However,” he added, rubbing his chin, “that idea of a flatbed hauler. . .that would be a good project. But look here. . . .”
-
“The park.”
“Yep,” Jake nodded, looking at Clay. “They had a few electric carts I'm pretty sure. Maybe more than a few anymore, I don't know. Don't really keep up with that stuff. Never rightly viewed golf as a man's game, if you know what I mean. If you can head over there and find a few of them, think how much that would help around here. Like the kids said, we can charge them with solar rigs so it's cost efficient. And using them for the security patrol would help them a lot as well. For that matter, we can use the gas ones, too. They don't burn a lot of gas and make a good 'get around.' Not to mention having one for the Old Man to move around the place on.”
“That would help,” Clay sighed. “All right. You wanna go?” he asked.
“I'm a lover, not a fighter,” Jake shook his head. “As you go by my place, check and see if the fuel tanks have been messed with. Should have thought of that earlier.”
“You got much fuel?” Clay asked.
“Several thousand gallons if it ain't been stole,” Jake nodded. “Five thousand diesel and three in gas. Again, that's assuming it ain't been stolen. Had just topped off when this started. No sense in leaving it there. You got trucks that run so we can find a tanker and haul it here. We can use that fuel.”
“Damn right we can,” Clay nodded. “We 'll do that.”
“Be looking for a propane truck, too,” Jake suggested as Clay started to go.
“Huh?” Clay turned back. “What for?”
“Propane truck ain't gotta run to haul and hold gas,” Jake replied. “And I bet there's plenty of propane either at Dale's or Calhoun Gas. We can tow the propane truck there if we have to and fill it up. Don't tell me a tanker or two of propane wouldn't come in handy while we get fixed up.”
“Yeah, it would,” Clay nodded. “All right. Anything else?”
“Not from me,” Jake shook his head. “About all I was good for. Don't forget some good washing machines motors,” he laughed.
“Right.”
-
“So, we're hunting for golf carts?” Gordy verified.
“And tanker trailers,” Titus added.
“And propane trucks,” Heath finished.
“And. . .washing machine motors?” Mitchell Nolan frowned. “One of these things ain't like the others, man. What in the hell do we need washing machine motors for?”
“Some project the twins and Jake have going,” Clay shrugged. “Trying to make some kind of battery powered hauler. The machine motors will be the power plant I guess.”
“You know, that could actually work,” Nolan nodded. “Where do we get the tires and wheels I wonder?” he said more to himself than Clay.
“I have no idea,” Clay admitted. “If I find out I'll let you know.”
“How are they gonna get the power to the wheels, assuming we can find 'em?” Gordy asked.
“I don't know that either,” Clay replied.
“Are they gonna use chains, or maybe those rubber belts, or-” Heath looked at his friends.
“I. Don't. Know.” Clay bit the words out. “What part of 'something Jake and the Twins' did you guys not get?” he demanded. “These are good questions. Hunt them down and ask them. Plan your mission for tomorrow, assuming good weather. Select vehicles based on what you figure out.”
“Probably need the trailer,” Nolan was thinking aloud to himself. “Maybe let Ellen and Tandi pull the flatbed again? Come on guys and let’s go see the geniuses.”
-
“We can try hitting a laundry mat,” Juarez suggested. “We need to take tools with us to make sure we can get the motors removed.”
“No,” Gordy was shaking his head as he looked at the plans. “No, get the whole thing. All of it.”
“What? Why?” Nolan asked.
“Sheet metal,” Gordy told him, looking up. “They need sheet metal, and those washers are covered in it. We can cut it with shears and pound it into any shape they need. Kill two birds with one stone that way. And it's faster.”
“Damn,” Nolan nodded. “Hell of an idea, kid.”
“He learned it from me,” Titus Terry said at once, straight faced.
“Don't kid yourself,” Leon the Deuce said right behind him. “It's obviously the influence of having us,” he motioned between himself and Leanne, “as family.”
“Well, wherever it came from,” Juarez cut off the ensuing argument, “it's a damn good idea and a workable plan. You kids are familiar with the area, so map out a plan to hit the two nearest such places. We 'll grab as many as we can along with the carts and then scoot back here.”
“I hope we can find a furniture dolly.”
-
“I hope we can find a furniture dolly.”
Those words were muttered by Zachary Willis as he and Gordy carried a third washer from the Sudsy laundromat and heaved it onto the flatbed trailer for others to lash down.
“You dumb ass,” he told Gordy as they headed back inside. “Jinxed the hell out of us 'fore we ever got on the road. Hope we can find a furniture dolly,” he muttered again, shaking his head as he stepped back inside.
The Sudsy had once been a very nice little laundromat in Jordan but at some point since the lights went out it had been severely vandalized. It was unlikely that it would ever be restored so the group felt no guilt at taking the machines. Perhaps at some point they could find the owner and make some kind of restitution. What they hadn't found was a furniture dolly.
The group had set out as soon as the sun was visible over the trees in a three vehicle convoy, the Cougar leading With Jose Juarez, Mitchell Nolan, Gordy Sanders and Titus Terry, the semi in the middle with Ellen Kargay and Tandi Maseo and the Hummer bringing up the rear with Nate Caudell, Kade Ramsey and Heath Kelly. Their first stop had been the park, where they had found five battery powered golf carts that seemed to be in decent shape and would hum when the pedal was mashed though none would actually run.
“I think that hum means they can run if we can charge them,” Kelly told them. “I worked here at the park for the summer and we used an old cart to carry trimmers and stuff. It was electric and it would hum like this when it was dead.”
“But,” he continued, lifting the seat, “see this?” he pointed to a cable running from the battery box. “This is how you charge it. I think that so long as we charge the batteries it
's okay however we can do it, but I don't know that since I ain't never done it but with this.”
“So we need the charger, then,” Jose sought clarification.
“It's easier to get it now than get home and discover we can't work without it,” Kelly nodded.
“Do you know where it is?”
“Right over there,” Kelly pointed to the far end of the pavilion where the carts were stored.
“Okay then,” Jose took over. “Titus and Kelly are with me, the rest start loading these carts. Get as many as we can lash down on half the trailer. I doubt they kept spare parts around so if we get an extra or two we can cannibalize them for parts.”
It had taken two hours for the group to heave seven of the golf carts onto the trailer and move the charging unit out of the pavilion and add it to the cargo. They had spent a total of two-and-a-half hours there before loading up and heading for the laundromat.
“One more looks like,” Titus Terry looked at the trailer. “We weren't saving room for anything else, right?” he asked.
“No, this is it for this run,” Jose assured him. “Get them lashed down and let’s get moving as quick as we can. We got one more stop to make on the way home.”
Thirty minutes of lashing later, eight washing machines crammed into the remaining space on the trailer, the small convoy started for home. The entire operation had taken just over five hours.
-
“. . .and the tanks look intact,” Jose finished his report. “I couldn't find a gauge to read but when I knocked they sounded pretty full.”
“Good deal,” Clay nodded. “See a tanker anywhere?”
“No, but we didn't actually go looking for one, either. We just kept an eye out during the trip.”
“Right,” Clay mused. “We're going to need to organize a scouting run and see what we can find. That's for another day, though. You guys get some rest.”
-
“I'm glad they got the charger,” Leon the Deuce told his sister. “I forgot it. Assuming it still works this will save a lot of work.”
“Eight washing machines,” Leanne was shaking her head. “Why so many?” she looked at Gordy.