by Eli Constant
On the top of the wall was an armed contingency—two men and three women displaying a variety of weapons. They stared at the RV as it approached, weapons at the low ready, waiting to see what would happen next. Whether we were friendly or not and what our intentions were. This was something I was hoping for and something I could at least deal with.
“Go ahead and stop, Juan. I’m going to go out, let them see me.” I was peering at the wall, studying the men and women.
“I should go out, not you.” Juan unbuckled and reached for the key to shut the RV off.
“Why, because you’ve got balls and I don’t?” I don’t know why I said it the way I did. Maybe I needed more sleep. Maybe we were this close to tasting safety and I was scared something was going to screw that up.
“No, I just—”
“Look, you keep the vehicle running just in case. And I really believe that we’ll have a better chance of getting in if they see an unarmed woman. Maybe even unarmed women. Sherry you want to go with?” I stood up, adjusting my top and wishing I was still wearing issue clothing. I’d changed the third day at the truck stop. My clothes were sink-washed and hanging in the bathroom. Right now, I was wearing black sweat pants and a white tank. Not exactly professional agent gear, but it was all I had after giving Sherry some things.
“If you think it will help.” She stood up, wincing a little as her legs came back to life. She’d only gotten up from Marty’s side twice to use the restroom since leaving the truck stop. Marty reached up and grabbed her hand before she stepped away from the couch. She turned and smiled at him. “Don’t worry, buddy. I’ll be back.”
He didn’t respond but just nodded and let go of her hand. I didn’t know if he believed her words. I could tell that Juan wanted to say more, further protest his role of just sitting tight. I didn’t want to waste time arguing, so I didn’t look at him to give him an opening to speak again.
Before Sherry and I stepped out of the RV, I did dig into my bag and pull out my identification badge. That had to mean something, even at the end of the damn world. Sherry stayed right behind me as we exited the vehicle. The heat outside was bearable and I could tell we were near water because of the occasional semi-cool breeze that wafted against my face. As I approached the barrier, I observed the body language of the guards. They were all comfortable, relaxed, and in charge. The battle was over, at least here, and they had no problems dealing with any issues that came their way. That was good. It gave me confidence that we could stay here instead of moving on. This might be our end game.
Sherry and I were about thirty feet away when we were ordered to stop. I reflexively put my hands up. I’d purposefully not carried a weapon with me. I hadn’t thought to tell Sherry to leave her gun and I wondered if she was carrying the Taurus. My question was answered almost instantly as one of the guards spoke again.
“Set the gun on the ground, Miss.” The speaker was one of the men, his voice so full of gravel that it might have been siphoned straight off the line at a quarry. He was late 60s at least, slightly built with weathered, leather-tanned skin that was a testimony to living in Texas and spending most of his time outdoors. His nearly-white hair was pulled back in a low ponytail and a thick handlebar mustache framed his mouth like a painting.
He might have been law or military in his heyday. No matter his background though, I could see the steel in his eyes, even being this far away, and I was pretty confident that he could carry out any threats he made. Those were the type of men you respected, feared a little, and tried not to cross.
“Put the gun down, Sherry.” I turned to the other woman and our eyes locked. She didn’t say anything but she bent over and set the Taurus gently on the ground. I looked back at the armed men and women protecting the wall.
The man wasn’t smiling, but his face wasn’t exactly menacing either. “Thanks. Now, just tell us your intentions, who else is in the truck, and what you want.” His head shifted just a little, his gaze a fraction more directed at Sherry who stood slightly behind me. “I’d stop eyeballing that weapon if I was you, Miss. I’d hate to gun you down on such a fine day.”
Sherry moved up beside me, leaving the gun on the ground behind her. Her face was snow white, her lower lip trembling. I wasn’t sure what was going through her head, but I had a feeling she was having flashbacks to the last time she ended up in a situation with strangers unarmed.
“We’ve got no intentions of causing problems. My name’s Officer Murphy. This is my friend Sherry. Inside the RV is a man named Juan and a little boy named Marty.” I took a deep breath and almost started when Sherry’s fingers found my hand and gripped it tightly. “We had two more…my partner and our dog Frank, but some bad characters, a gang of sorts at a truck stop a ways back, changed that.” I watched the old guy’s reaction as I spoke. He was Law, I could tell now. A military member wouldn’t have the same sneer of disgust at the mention of a gang. “We were heading to Albuquerque to my station to see if there are any survivors, but we’ve been through a lot. Laughlin was closer and we were hopeful. We found you first.”
The old man stared at me intently; it almost made me feel uncomfortable. It was like he was reading my soul with the experience of a thousand ages. It was just plain fucking freaky. My grandmother used to give me that look every time I said I hadn’t taken a cookie from her bunny-shaped jar atop her mint-green fridge. I stood there, patiently waiting for his response, and thought how nice it would be to be back in her kitchen that always smelled like clove and nutmeg. How nice it would be to steal a snickerdoodle and have nothing more terrible to face than grandmother’s wrath at me ruining my dinner.
The longer it took for the old Texan to respond, the tighter Sherry’s hold on my hand became. It was like taking away her weapon had zapped all her courage. That wasn’t good. She and I were going to have to have a heart-to-heart about that.
“You say you’re an officer. Toss up your creds.” The three women and other man hadn’t moved much while the ‘leader’ spoke, but they shifted with interest now. This was apparently the moment, the thing that would decide if they helped us or not.
Slowly I walked forward, dragging Sherry behind me because she didn’t want to let go of my hand, and I tossed the black badge wallet as high and straight as I could. The older man deftly caught it with one hand and flipped it open, glancing at the image and then at me. “Welcome to our little hacienda, Officer Murphy. Or should I call you Amber?”
“I prefer AJ,” I said, making sure my voice was strong and didn’t waver.
“Alright, AJ, my name is Hunter. Hunter Jorgenson, Texas Ranger-retired, and this is Fort Del Rio, occupied by the last 127 survivors of this damn outbreak.”
I watched as he turned slightly to the right and yelled down behind the wall. “Bud, move the bus and let these fine people in! And tell Martha to rustle up some grub for these folks; they look like a bunch of stray cats that could use a good meal!”
When he turned back to us, his demeanor had shifted for the better. Tossing my credentials back to me, he smiled and completed our conversation. “Well, glad that all worked out. Wasn’t really in the killin’ mood today. Now, AJ, honey get back in that fancy rig and come on through. Just down the street, you’ll see the entrance to the country club. Plenty of room for your rig there. Just head into the main doors once you’re parked and I’ll meet you folks down there in a few minutes.”
I nodded, a return smile plastered across my face born more of relief than actual happiness, and I headed back to the RV. Sherry was close on my heels, making sure to pick up the Taurus as we passed it.
“Well, that scared the hell out of me. You never know now, do you? Whether or not people are going to be total shit or good guys.” Sherry’s voice was an ocean, the stress leaving her words in waves.
“I hate to break it to you, Sherry, but the world’s always been like that.” I mounted the first step. “It’s good that went well though. That old geezer looked like could hit a fly at a hundred yard
s away with that old lever action. Plus, he’s a Ranger- meaning he’s as tough as they come. Chances are, if it came to a fight between them and us, we’d lose.”
“So, let’s eat some good food. No fighting allowed,” Sherry said. We were in the RV now, door closed behind us.
“That’s exactly what I plan on, Sherry.” I moved to sit in the passenger seat again.
“You okay?” Juan looked at me, concern plain in his face.
“We’re fine,” I emphasized the ‘we’re’. He turned and looked at Sherry, something flashing through his eyes.
“I’m glad you both are okay. You think it’s safe to go in?”
“I think it’s about as safe as anything could possibly be right now.” I didn’t bother to buckle as Juan shifted into drive.
In front of us, the steel-plated bus was moving, revealing a drive that looked almost too clean, too picturesque, to possibly be real.
***
SHERRY
Now, this I like. I stared at the decorations inside the country club, thinking the inside was small compared to the large-looking exterior, whilst also lifting a mouthful of food to my lips. There were a lot of maroon, beige, and gold details in the wallpaper and carpeting. Run-of-the-mill upscale furniture was further dressed-up with tasseled pillows. Little crystal bowls of small, multi-hued butter mints were sat invitingly on thin-legged tables that looked like they’d blow over in even the slightest breeze.
It was so…civilized. And I don’t know why that bothered me. Maybe because I’d been through hell and I didn’t think anything should look this nice. Or maybe it’s because I was in a pair of sweats, on my period, desperately in need of a shower, and I didn’t ‘go’ with my surroundings. I fidgeted in my seat as a very kind-looking woman with wisps of grey hair walked around the table checking to see if we needed anything else. She’d introduced herself as Martha, the same Martha, I assumed, that Hunter had mentioned.
“This is really good. Thanks,” Juan said, eating his second plate of food with even more fervor than the first if that were possible.
“Hon, I think you’d have eaten a plate of uncooked rattlesnake if I’d given you a bottle of ketchup with it. You folks must not have had a proper meal in ages.” Martha’s voice matched her looks. Sweet, gentle. The little old grandmother type that always had fresh cookies and cold milk when you were feeling down and out.
“You might be right there,” Juan chuckled, eating yet another over-heaped spoonful. “You really know how to cook, Martha. I’d order this off a menu.”
“Secrets all in the beef. How it’s raised, how the animal’s treated, what it’s fed. Grass is the best. Good quality grass.” She was standing behind Marty now, one hand resting lightly on his shoulder. “Would you like something else, sweetie.”
He turned a little in his seat, a genuine smile on his face. “Do you have anything sweet?”
She nodded. “Growing boys need a balance. Can’t do nothing without a little treat to keep the body going.” She patted his shoulder and then disappeared into the back rooms of the club house, where I assumed the kitchen and store rooms were.
I ate the rest of my second helping, taking my time with the mashed potatoes. They were half instant and half canned, but Martha had spiced them so well that they were every bit as good as fresh. I even think there might have been something creamy added…tangy. Maybe goat cheese. I didn’t even like goat cheese as a general rule, but these were the best damn potatoes of my life.
When I was finished, I leaned back in my chair and enjoyed the feeling of the vent above my head blowing ice-cold air against my face. I didn’t know how that was possible and, dammit, I didn’t care. I wasn’t the type of person who needed answers to every damn thing. I was just happy knowing enough, staying alive, and maybe having a piece of chocolate cake every now and again.
Cake. Cake would be so freaking good right now.
I sighed, sitting back up straight.
“Well, can’t let Marty have all the fun, can we,” Martha spoke as she pushed through the set of double swinging doors that led back into the dining room. She expertly carried two trays full of desserts. And I’ll be damned if there wasn’t a large piece of chocolate cake on one of them.
Is it petty that I leaned forward and grabbed it before AJ could? I saw her eyeing it, saw her lean forward with purpose in her eyes, and I jolted forward and grabbed that son-of-a-bitch like I’d die without it. At least I had the good manners to look sheepish as I dug in for my first bite.
I’d have felt bad if Marty had wanted the cake, but he’d gone straight for the dish of strawberry ice cream.
We all sat in wonderful silence eating dessert. Wonderful, if a bit odd, silence. I found it weird and a bit unbelievable that these people could have set up a place like this in so short a time. God…it had been…weeks? Two weeks? Not even two weeks?
Martha was sitting off to the side, enjoying a wafer-thin slice of pie.
“Hey, I was curious. How in the world did you guys get this all set up so fast? I don’t feel like it’s been long enough for,” I indicated the room around me, the food, everything, “all of this.” Well, color me interested. I guess I did want answers to some questions.
“Well, that’ll be Hunter’s department. You put that man anywhere, in the middle of anything, and he’ll have a working community before you can say Bob’s your uncle.” She laughed as she said it, a low and delicate hum that was a church woman singing alto in the back line of the choir.
“You talking about me again, Martha?” Hunter walked through the front door, his gate easy, studied. It wasn’t the way Juan walked. It wasn’t a martial arts influence. It was wisdom. “She always gives that little laugh when she’s talking about me.” He walked to her, bent down and kisses her lightly on the forehead. “This gal’s been keeping me straight as an arrow for forty years now.”
“Straight as a crooked arrow, you old billy goat.” Martha leaned into Hunter’s body and her face was open and peaceful. It was one of those moments when you feel rude for staring, but also think it’d be rude to look away.
AJ spoke, cutting into the quiet that was once again trying to fall over our group at the arrival of Hunter and the sweet intimacy between him and Martha. Silence over delicious desert was enough for one day. “You’ve already been so generous. We’ve got rations and supplies in the trailer we’re pulling. We can pay our way.”
“That’s not necessary, hon.” Martha stood up and Hunter snaked an arm around her waist.
“Really, we’ve got enough to spare. We don’t want to be freeload—”
Hunter interrupted AJ, “Nope, Martha’s right. We got plenty. Scavenged across the whole town once the last few of those monsters booked it out of town. Even herded in cattle from some of the outlying farms and fenced them in on the fairways.”
“Hunter made sure to get my chickens, too. And Darby, the goat. We kept a small farm ourselves. Just enough for us. Chickens are good producers, giving us a couple dozen a day.”
“Goat cheese. That’s what I tasted in the potatoes.” I don’t know why I said it, and as soon as the words exited my mouth, I felt a hotness creep into my cheeks.
Martha just nodded, not seeming to think my outburst was strange. “Yep. Goat cheese. Made fresh yesterday.”
“Made the potatoes taste like little bits of heaven, didn’t it?” Hunter grinned, took his arm from around his wife, and slapped her gently on the butt. “My wife can make canned anything taste like gourmet at a Chris Ruth… Ruth Chris. Hell, whatever that fancy restaurant is named.”
“Oh, stop it.” But Martha was grinning from ear-to-ear and looking at her husband like they were two high school kids after first date. A first date that maybe went a little ‘handsy’. “You sit and chat. I’ll go make you a pot of mac and cheese. Hot and fresh.”
“Ain’t a doubt in my mind that I married the right gal,” Hunter said it with a growl, and I got the feeling he wanted to jump her bones right then and there. I w
anted that. I wanted to find someone who would love me forever, embracing each and every grey and slapping me on the ass like I was still some hot young thing with breasts that didn’t sag south.
Hunter watched his wife leave the room and then he walked over to join us, sitting in the open seat at the head of the table nearest the kitchen doors. Just then, a young man with bleach blonde hair gone black at the roots walked into the dining room with a metal platter of fresh-grilled steaks. I’d literally eaten myself just this side of sick, but the smell of the medium-rare meat made my mouth salivate like I hadn’t just gorged myself silly.
The barely-a-man blonde walked over to Hunter and set the platter down in front of him. “Martha said you were hungry and the mac and cheese was going to take a while.”
“Thanks, Lance. I could just about eat a cow uncooked. Been on that wall since before dawn.” Hunter leaned forward and took one of the clean white plates that were stacked in the middle of the table towards him. “Y’all want any of this?”
AJ, Juan, and I shook our heads, but Marty raised his hand like he was in school trying to answer a teacher’s question.
“You still hungry, son?” Hunter eyed the boy, a mischievous look on his face.
“Yes, sir,” Marty mumbled, looking a little sheepish at asking for more food.
“Growing boys need as much fuel as they can fit in their bodies.” He speared one of the steaks with a fork and set it down on the plate he’d just gotten. Sitting it down on the table, he pushed it across the tablecloth at Marty who took it and began eating hungrily. I might feel like I was hungry, the smell of good meat awakening my taste buds, but I knew I wasn’t.
If dieting and shitty chocolate shakes and battling the scale will teach you anything, it’s that most of the time, ‘hunger’ is something other than actually being hungry. You’re bored. You’re depressed. You’re actually thirsty and need to hydrate. I was not actually hungry. No, my current ‘hunger’ was stemming from something else.