by S A Ison
Opening the door, a fug of refuse, body odor and sewage nearly knocked her back outside. Her eyes stung with tears at the smell.
“Jesus, how can they live in that filth?” She whispered hoarsely. Alice had lent her Blake’s penlight and she turned it on and looked around the kitchen. Trash was strewn about the kitchen, on the counters, and on the floor. Large cockroaches scattered as her light played across the floor and she could hear their tiny feet scuttling away. Her mouth pulled back in a snarl of disgust. She was glad she was wearing her boots and when she took a step, she heard the crunch of several bodies beneath her foot. She moved through the kitchen, gritting her teeth when her foot came down on and crunch some of the unlucky roaches.
The house was small, with a living room, that was just as filthy as the kitchen. Boxes and cans littered the floor, and she moved around the mess. She saw two doors, one closed and one open. She heard snoring from the open door and looked in. She saw a lump in the bed. Clementine said that the men were brothers, mean as cottonmouths and just as sneaky. They had been robbing their neighbors for years, but no one had ever leveled charges against them.
It was going to be a tricky thing, because each man was in a separate room. She killed one, the other would wake. She froze when the floor creaked softly beneath her foot and she waited, her breath held. The AR was up and ready, and she waited, listening to see if either man would wake. The snoring in the room didn’t stop and she let out a sigh. If she shot the snoring man, then his brother would come out blasting. Kena would have to make herself a very small target and shoot the man when he came out of his room.
She could try and open the door, but if it made too much noise, it could wake both men at once. They’d have her easy then. She moved her light around the small room and gritted her teeth. There were cockroaches all over the house and as the light moved, so did they, making that horrible skittering noise. They had to be at least two inches long, palmetto bugs. They grew them big down south.
Over on one wall was an old buffet and hutch. There were no dishes, but it was stacked with trash. If she shot the snoring man, she could move quickly enough to the side of the buffet and hutch and squat there. It was dark enough; she would be hidden in the deep shadow and have some kind of cover if or when the man in the other bedroom started shooting. She could only hope, anyway. Kena moved to the open door and looked in once more, then she turned and looked at the hutch and mentally noted the distance and route to take.
The whole place swarmed with the cockroaches, but there was no help for it. She just hoped they wouldn’t carry her off. She raised the AR and aimed it at the sleeping body. She had no qualms killing the man in his sleep. She turned her body so that she would have a head start over to the buffet and hutch. She let her breath out slowly. She would shoot three rounds quickly then move.
She pulled the trigger three times, and it seemed that time had slowed as she watched the large body jerk. She made sure she aimed for the upper torso, if she didn’t kill him, she would at least put a hurtin on him and once she killed his brother, she could go back and finish him off. As the last bullet punched the figure, Kena turned and moved quickly to the hutch and squatted down. Her ears were ringing from the weapon’s loud report, inside the house and so she didn’t bother trying to listen for the other man. She waited and watched the door.
She saw holes punch into the shut door, the man was shooting out his own door. She smiled and waited. After long minutes of silence, the door cracked open and she saw a gun stick out from the crack. The flashes of gunfire went around the room. There was more silence and Kena waited, her AR aimed at the door. The door opened wider, the gun sticking out farther into the room. Then she saw a head peek around the door jam. The gun waved wildly around the room, looking for a target.
“Darrel? Was that you?” The man called, the gun still waving around. No, it wasn’t. Darrel ain’t alive asshole, she thought, grinning. She watched patiently as the door opened wider, and the upper torso of the man came out. She could see that he had a dull white wifebeater on, his skin dark beneath and she could see the sheen of sweat on his face and neck. His weapon was now swinging wildly around the room and he stepped out farther, his head swiveling around.
Kena’s finger was already on the target and when the man was looking toward the kitchen, she pulled the trigger. Black bloomed on the wifebeater and the second bullet knocked the man into the wall. He got a shot off, but the bullet went into the ceiling and the gun fell from his hand. Kena stood, feeling the crunch of more hapless roaches beneath her feet. She then turned on her penlight and walked over to the man.
He stared up at her in pain and confusion, his mouth opening and shutting like a large fish. Blood and saliva were spilling from his mouth and his bloodshot eyes rolled around and looked back at her. He was trying to speak, but didn’t have the breath for it. She had caught him in the lungs and she could hear bubbling.
“I just stopped by to say hello. Also, wanted to tell you and your brother to stop all that raping and stealing. But I figured that you wouldn’t listen. So, I figured I’d stop black on black crime, with a little black on black crime.” Kena grinned down at the dying man. She kicked the gun farther away from the man, his legs twitching out in front of him. She stepped past him and went into the bedroom to check on the other man. She flashed the light on the man and saw that he was dead. Using the light, she moved it around the nasty room. She saw an AR15, leaning against the nightstand and picked it up. She slung it around her narrow shoulders. She would give it to Clementine. It was light enough for the old woman to use with little trouble. She opened the drawer and several large cockroaches skittered out. One took wing and flew across the bed. She saw two boxes of shells and picked them up.
Stepping back into the living room, she looked down at the man, his eyes opened, but no one was home. She reached down and took the gun and went into his room. She nearly gagged at the smell in the room. She used the light and saw a dead rat in the corner, rotting. Christ, she shook her head. She opened drawers and more roaches came out and scattered. Finding a box of 9mm ammo, she took the box and shoved it in her pocket, sticking the gun in her waist band. She moved to the kitchen and found a plastic bag and emptied it out, roaches falling to the ground and bouncing. She placed the boxes of ammo into it and then tied it up.
She stepped out of the house and drank in fresh clean air. She turned her head and spit, trying to rid her mouth of the foulness. She stood quiet in the shadows for a long moment and heard nothing. She moved up the side of the house and looked over across the street to the house that sat roughly one hundred feet away. She could see the dark silhouette of a man standing in the darkened door way. He had what looked like a shotgun in hand. It wasn’t pointed, but was ready should he need to use it.
Kena was still in the darkness and didn’t move. Any movement would be detected and so she waiting. The man across the way walked out of his house and looked around. He had no shirt on and wore long pants. She could see faint light gleam from his dark body. He stood for a long moment, cocking his head this way and that. He seemed to hear something from the inside of his house and walked back to the door. Kena saw someone stick their head out and whisper something, though she couldn’t hear it. The man waved for the person to go back in. Once more, he stood in the door way, his head looking at the house and then up and down the road. She let out a sigh as he went back inside and closed the door.
Kena didn’t move, but waited for a long time. Then, she moved to the trees and then to the road. She moved quickly and then stopped, looking back over her shoulder. She heard nothing nor saw any movement. She kept her AR at the ready, just in case. The night sounds began to surround her once more and the ringing in her ears finally eased. Her step was light and she moved fast. The thrill of the kill, she thought and smiled. More like the thrill of taking out the trash and she laughed softly. Her body jerked violently and one hand came up to her neck, swatting wildly, as she knocked two large cockroaches from h
er neck, the only sound was her soft startled squeak.
Ω
Calkins, MT
Phoenix sat on one of the couches in the living room; the group was eating their last dinner together. Jael and Miles had made rabbit stew with fresh sourdough bread. Phoenix’s heart hurt, he hated to leave these people, but he had to see if his family still lived, still survived. He could feel their anguish at his impending departure. Lydia would be leaving with him; he had failed to change her mind.
“Does anyone believe what we’re hearing on the radio?” Miles asked, looking around at the faces. The kitchen was too small to hold everyone, when they ate as a group, they ate in the living room. The old dining room had been turned into the study years ago, when families began to get smaller. After digging around in the barn, they found sixties style metal TV trays, their faded floral prints cheery. Each had their dinner balanced on the uneven trays.
“The chatter on the radio says these were eye witness accounts.” Jael said, wiping her mouth.
“Still, the Chinese invading along with the Russians?” Lydia said.
“Remember that the reports about the leaflets, I’m thinking that China breached the satellites, if that was the platform for Pythagoras. They turn the weapon on the United States, perhaps collaborating with the Russians. China figures if they have help, the rest of the world will be too afraid to jump in and help the United States. Or, maybe Europe is trying to help, but nothing has come over the radio about any aid from that arena. Possibly, Europe was hit as well?” Miles shrugged.
“Phoenix, do you think it is wise to go to Seattle?” Yuma asked, and Phoenix saw the worry etched in the man’s face. Julian and Jennifer had come back with the incredible story about how Yuma drew his gun like they used to do in the old west and shot the man, going medieval on his ass. He thought that Yuma would be a good man to take along, especially since Lydia still insisted on coming along.
“I have to go Yuma; I have to see for myself.” Phoenix said, shrugging.
“Phoenix, if the reports are true, and you get to Seattle, you might get taken by the Chinese. Lydia, you too. My god, they are forcing women into marriage or making them sex slaves.” Jael said.
“We’ll be careful, and if I see that it’s impossible, we’ll come back, but I have to at least try, while gasoline is still viable. I’m not even sure if the gas we come across will work, but I can’t, not, go find out.” The group had been going around and around about the trip. Phoenix knew they all cared about him and Lydia. If they could stop him, Lydia couldn’t leave without him. She would never undertake the trip alone. She had been recalcitrant, however, not unlike himself.
“That’s why you should stay here Lydia. You go and get captured; your life will be a living hell.” Jael argued, her eyes narrowing at the younger woman.
“Not to mention you’ll be an unwilling donor for transplants, Phoenix, being young and healthy.” Julian added.
Phoenix wanted to laugh and cry over their concern. He had come to love these people and it tore at him to leave them, but something elemental drove him to find his family.
“How about we get within twenty miles of Seattle, if we see the Chinese and Russian hordes, we head back here?” Lydia offered up. Phoenix looked at her surprised.
“And your sister?” Phoenix asked.
“Look, the chances of her being alive after all this time is slim and narrow. She lived in a small apartment and if I know my sister as well as I do, she lived on take out and didn’t have much food. If she did survive, then the Chinese have her. Trying to find her there? I don’t know, but I do have to go. I have to try or I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. The what if.” Lydia shrugged.
“Fine, if, when we get there, and the place is crawling with the Chinese, we head back.” Phoenix said, his shoulders slumping in capitulation. He hated giving in, but he knew they were right. He knew he was being foolish; he knew he couldn’t help it, not after all of this. He had to go.
“Good, but if you see foreign troops before you get there, turn back.” Miles suggested.
“Do you think we’re in danger from them?” Jael worried.
“We’re more likely to get hit by locals or roaming gangs and that kind of things. Like those men who attacked Julian and Yuma in the meadow. We’re in a remote area, with harsh winters, if I were a Chinese or Russian conqueror, I’d go someplace with beaches and bikinis. My guess is the invaders will hit the coasts and move along to other large cities. If or when they make it to Montana, that may well be years.” Miles said. Phoenix could hear the sighs around the room.
“I’ve made some deer jerky for your trip. It is lightweight and easy to carry. I’ve also made you a filtration system of sorts. You’ll carry water, but if it comes to the point where you find yourself on foot, you’ll have something light to carry and you can make drinkable water without boiling it. I want you to take the AR15, the one with the scope, and we’ll load you up on magazines. You’re competent to snare rabbits and cook, but I’d advise you to go without fires. They can be seen from long distances, it isn’t spring yet, so not enough tree coverage. That’s why I am giving you the jerky.” Miles grinned.
“I’ve made jam cakes, filled with raisins, dried apples and dried carrots. They are small and compact and full of calories and vitamins. I’ve also packed Rich’s compass and tore out pages from my road atlas, so if you find yourself on foot, you can navigate your way back home.” Jael smiled and reached over and squeezed his hand.
“I’ve marked out a route for you to take, it goes along country roads and a few secondary roads. That’s gonna take you a bit longer, but it should keep you away from large towns and cities.” Julian said.
“I should go with you.” Yuma said, looking around at the gasps.
“It’s too dangerous and too much to ask.” Phoenix objected.
“I’m good with my gun. I can watch your back.” Yuma argued. The group looked around and then back at Yuma.
“I hate to say, but Yuma’s right. He could go with you and watch your back.” Julian said, nodding.
“Hey, I’m a good shot too, Christ, I’m just as good as all of you.” Lydia said, her face flushing.
“We know, but the more guns the better, I say.” Julian said, raising his hands.
“If we don’t come back, you’re down a man.” Phoenix said.
“I will come back. This is my home.” Yuma said with certainty. There was a stubborn bearing to Yuma’s body and his jaw, he would be going, Phoenix sighed. A small part of him was glad, it was going to be a dangerous trip, having another set of eyes would be good.
“Jael, if I find my family, can I bring them back? Here I mean?”
“Of course, you can, you too Lydia. My god, they are so welcome here, dear.” Jael said and Miles grinned and wrapped his arm around Phoenix and gave him a hug. Lydia smiled, tears shimmering in her eyes.
“Thank you so much.” Phoenix whispered, clearing his throat. They would be on their way in the morning. His heart flipped, knowing that he might see his parents in a few days. He hoped that all the reports were just propaganda. Or, at worse, just the place might be over run, but he could still locate his family.
Early the next morning, it was still dark when Phoenix loaded the jeep. There was duct tape on the hole in the back window. There were old quilts packed into the back, along with three backpacks filled with food and water. There were cans of gas packed in the back. The jeep’s tank was full. The day before, Miles and Yuma had gone over the jeep, under the hood and checked the tires. Lydia came out of the house and Jael was behind, along with Julian and Miles. Thor was left inside; they had decided to leave him at the farm as early warning and protection. Phoenix had said his goodbyes in the kitchen. It had broken his heart. He swallowed and turned and walked over to Jael and Miles. He gathered them both in his arms and hugged them hard. He turned to Julian, and saw the blue eyes filled with tears.
“Watch over these two and you’d better do right by Je
nnifer and marry the girl.” Phoenix smiled down at Julian.
“I just have to gird up my loin to asked Bob for her hand.” Julian snorted. Phoenix laughed and hugged the man. He went down the steps and got in the jeep. He watched as Lydia and Yuma hugged the trio on the porch. When the two climbed into the jeep, Lydia went to the back seat. They would take turns driving and navigating. For now, Phoenix knew the route for the next few hours. Taking a deep breath, he blew it out and pulled away from the farmhouse and toward the unknown.
Ω
Moses Lake, WA
Monica moved slowly along the road, her eyes sharp, for movement or anything that seemed out of the ordinary, not that the world was any kind of ordinary. She had left Holt and Teresa three days ago and she was nearing her first contact, Louis Ender, a radio friend of Holt. It wasn’t like the social media friends, or maybe it was. Someone you kept in contact with, but never meeting. Louis was part of the ARRL, American Radio Relay League. Perhaps Ham radio was something like the first social media, Monica thought, a soft smile curving on her face.
It was midafternoon and she was tired, she’d slept in a derelict vehicle the night before, it had been raining hard and she didn’t want to get soaked. She had been traveling for three days, pushing herself mile after mile. Monica had stayed with Teresa and Holt for three days. Before she’d left, Teresa had helped take the stitches out of her stump. It was something she had to get used to, it was ugly and a constant reminder of this new and brutal world. Monica felt tears sting her eyes. Teresa had even helped her wash her long black hair. It had been weeks since Monica had felt any kind of clean. Teresa had French braided her hair tightly so it would stay out of the way.
The old clapboard farmhouse had been a sanctuary, an island in a shit storm. There were very few people out and about and Monica kept the .38 close. The first day after leaving the farmhouse, two men had followed her, playing cat and mouse. Her nerves had been on edge and their laughter and lewd remarks grated on her like broken glass.