by Doug Kelly
“Pete?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’re going to give Dylan a note from me. Okay?”
Pete submissively nodded and said, “Okay.”
After arriving back at his house, Dylan stormed into his son’s room. Mary sat vigilantly at the foot of Brad’s bed while the young boy slept. Dylan looked at her, but did not say a word. She looked back, but could not summon the courage to speak. He tossed the blood-covered necklace onto her lap and walked away. He went into the garage to inspect their three new pistols with Kevin.
Mary looked at the crucifix, but she could only see blood, feel pain, and hear the screams of a young boy’s agony. She picked up the pendant and ran out the backdoor, in no particular direction, until she noticed the big walnut tree on the back property line. She ran toward the tree and threw the bloody piece of metal as far as she could. Back at the patio, she used a bucket of cold spring water to wash the blood off her hands, but she could not wash the horror from her mind.
Chapter Twenty Six
During the night, low gray clouds blanketed the sky. Small wisps of clouds had bunched together as one, smothering the stars and the bright light of the full moon hiding behind them. At daybreak, gentle raindrops fell from the dark clouds and concealed the sun as it rose from the eastern horizon. The calm rain saturated the ground. Water steadily ran across the ragged yards, across the empty sidewalks, and onto the quiet streets. The storm slowly removed the skim of dust and dirt from the sidewalks and roads.
Under the strong branches of the walnut tree behind Dylan’s house, Mary’s necklace lay strewn on the ground next to the tree’s dark furrowed bark. On a thick branch, a child’s swing swayed quietly in the breeze as the soft raindrops hugged the tree and ran swiftly down its trunk. The clear water ran across her pendant, dissolved the caked blood, and washed away the filth. Later that morning, after the clouds broke, a ray of sunshine struck the necklace, and it reflected the light with a quick sparkle through the shadows of tree branches shifting with the wind.
After the rain stopped, Kevin escorted Ruth to Tom’s barn to take care of the goat that they thought was ready to give birth at any moment. Ruth had wanted to check on the animal since daybreak, but the rain had delayed their departure.
Dylan stayed at home with his convalescing son. Sitting at Brad’s bedside, he made a silent promise that harm would never come to him again. His rifle was propped into a corner of the room, like a monument to his new world. The rifle leaned against the wall and his conscience leaned against his heart. Dylan was cynical, bitter, and he hated the things that this new world had forced him to do. Unspeakable acts of violence that he had walked away from, but which met him again every night in his dreams, or rather, nightmares. He hated the things he had to do to survive, but loved his family and friends, and was willing to do anything for them. Even die for them. In his dreams, he was always able to protect his family and friends. The nightmares he hated the most were those in which he died. The act of dying to protect his loved ones did not bother him; it was the fear that death would take him from his children. They were his responsibility to protect. A recurring question haunted his mind. What would happen to the children if he were dead? Fully aware the new world was catching up to him, the answer to that question made him sick.
During the storm, the meandering stream slowly transformed. The spring rain had made the turbulent water rise higher against its banks and had brought an increased swiftness to it. Before Kevin crossed the stream, he threw large rocks in the water and created a cobbled path. Kevin and Ruth walked across it. On the other side of the stream, the first thing they noticed after emerging from the trees was the barn’s open door.
“I don’t like this,” said Kevin. He looked beyond the barn and around the property for anything else that appeared disturbed. Nothing else appeared odd.
“Could the storm have done this?” asked Ruth.
“No chance.” Kevin studied the open door. Then he looked back at the cobbled stones across the stream. “I’m going in there, but first I want you to get back across the stream. If someone is waiting for me, you’ll have a chance to run home and get help.”
Kevin removed his pistol and took cautious steps forward. As Kevin got closer, he heard goats bleating and felt a sense of relief. A goat darted from the shadows and startled him. He stepped into the barn and saw, directly to his right, the female goat with two kids. She had just given birth and was cleaning her young. Kevin began to relax and walked farther into the barn. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he thought he saw the vertical shadow of a man at the rear of the barn, and then quickly realized it was not a shadow. It was a man and, in that same instant of recognition, he noticed that the man’s feet hovered above the ground. Kevin swung his pistol toward the silent silhouette and realized that it was not moving. Then he noticed the rope around the man’s neck. He swallowed hard and walked closer. The body hung from the rafters. When Kevin circled the corpse and saw the face, he recognized the man. It was Pete from the bartering lot. A knife had been stabbed into his chest and through a note, pinning to his overalls a message that read, YOUR EVICTION NOTICE.
Kevin ran from the barn and quickly crossed the stream. Ruth saw the look in his eyes and instantly knew something was wrong.
“What did you see?” asked Ruth.
“A dead man hanging from the rafters.”
Ruth gasped and covered her mouth with the palm of her hand.
“And that’s not all.”
Ruth winced as she braced herself for what was about to follow.
“A knife was stabbed into his chest, pinning a note to his body. That note is our eviction notice.”
Ruth’s hands dropped to her sides. She felt defeated. After escaping the control of a madman, she had thought she was free. Now she knew that was not true. A sense of exasperation overcame her as she stood there.
“I need to run now,” said Kevin. “Can you run with me? I need to hurry and warn the others.”
Ruth nodded her head, silent and sad, and they ran to warn their friends. As Kevin sprinted past Joel’s house, with Ruth close behind, he saw Joel looking out his living room window. Kevin pointed at Dylan’s house, and Joel saw the look on his face and understood what to do.
The garage doors were open at Dylan’s, and Dylan was in the garage. At the threshold to the garage, Kevin stopped and bent forward, resting his hands on his knees. After taking several deep breaths, he told Dylan what he had seen.
“Enough!” Dylan yelled. “I can’t stand any more of this shit!”
Joel heard Dylan yell and quickened his pace across Dylan’s driveway. “What is it?” he asked.
“Ruth, could you go next door and get Jim?” Dylan walked back to the table with the three new pistols lying on top. He turned around and said, “It’s very urgent.”
Dylan put cartridges into each of the magazines and then put the magazines back into each pistol while he waited for Jim.
“What’s the emergency?” Jim asked immediately as he came around the corner.
Kevin explained what he had seen in Tom’s barn, and Ruth relived her feeling of horror once more. She trudged around to the backyard and thought about preparing the garden for planting. Ruth told herself that everything would be fine, but she knew she was lying.
“We stand our ground,” said Dylan, as he handed Jim a pistol.
“What do you expect me to do with this?” asked Jim.
“Protect yourself.”
“Do you really think I’m involved in all this?” Jim felt the weight of the pistol in his hand as he turned it from side to side.
“I really don’t know, but bad things are coming our way.”
He handed the second pistol to Joel. Joel hesitated to take the weapon.
“I’m not a killer,” Joel stated firmly.
“I’m not asking you to be a killer.” Dylan pushed the pistol flat onto Joel’s chest. “Take it and protect your family.” Joel reluctantly accepte
d the pistol.
Dylan looked at the third weapon and handed it to Jim. “Can you get this to David? He can help us if we get into trouble.”
Jim shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. He hasn’t been the same since he lost his wife. I talked with Linda Foster, and she said he is depressed and acting strangely. She heard him say he doesn’t want to live anymore.”
“He might kill himself?” asked Dylan.
“I don’t know. If you give him that pistol, you might find out.”
“Then it’s just us?” asked Kevin. “What can we do? We can’t push back against a man with an entire militia under his control.”
Dylan placed the extra pistol on a shelf high on the garage wall. He turned around and answered Kevin. “You’re right, we can’t…but I know who might help us try.”
“Are you talking about Dean’s community at the other end of the lake?” asked Kevin.
“That’s right. He’s got some firepower. And remember what he said? He wants a warning if they start to come his way.”
“I remember.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” asked Dylan. “Let’s get Dean and his men and put an end to all this.”
Jim took a step away from the group. “Now, Dylan, I appreciate the pistol. I really do. But I’m too old for all of this. I can’t do it. I’m sorry.”
“I understand,” said Dylan. “Keep the pistol. There’s always more than one way to help a neighbor.”
After reflecting on what Jim just said, Dylan looked at Joel to see if he was ready to back out, too. Joel said nothing after Jim spoke, so Dylan bluntly asked, “Are you going to fight?”
“I’m not a soldier, and I don’t think I could ever be one,” answered Joel.
Kevin looked at Dylan and said, “Looks like it’s just us then.”
“But wait,” said Joel. “Can I go with you? I want to see what it is like in another community. I’ve haven’t been away from here since it all fell apart.”
“Are you looking for a place to run away to?” asked Dylan.
Joel did not answer, but Dylan already knew the response. He accepted that Joel did not want to fight, but he had at least expected him to stay in his community and help in another way. He was disappointed.
“Then go tell your wife you’re heading out with us,” said Dylan. “You too, Kevin. Tell Mary where we’ll be.”
“Do we need fuel?” asked Kevin.
“Yes, you’re right. Let’s take all the cans and fill them up on the way over there.”
Dylan, Kevin, and Joel rode shoulder to shoulder in the truck. Joel, the eternal pacifist, sat between Dylan and Kevin as the truck’s tires hummed along the road. Each man had a holstered pistol attached to his belt. The weapons brought a sense of safety and security to Dylan and Kevin, but for Joel, the pistol felt awkward and uncomfortable. As the truck reached the entrance to the parking lot of the county’s park maintenance building, Kevin slowed the truck to have more time to observe their surroundings before they went completely into it. Careful eyes scanned the landscape and saw no threats. Kevin parked the truck near the underground fuel tank and turned off the engine. They all exited the vehicle. Kevin was the first to notice the shattered glass window in the building’s front door.
“Look,” said Kevin, as he pointed to the broken glass.
“Yeah,” said Dylan. “Now we aren’t the only people that have been here.”
“So, this is where you got all the fuel?” asked Joel.
“Right over there,” said Kevin. He pointed at a weathered mound of dirt they had placed over the lid to the underground fuel tank to camouflage it. Kevin put a finger to his lips as a signal for Joel to understand not to tell anybody. Joel nodded.
Dylan looked under the abandoned trucks, rendered useless after the pulse, and saw the punctured fuel tanks.
“They drained the gas,” announced Dylan. He went behind the building and found the bucket and rope they had used to bail fuel from the underground tank. Both were still there, exactly as they had left them.
“The bucket is still here,” announced Dylan. “I don’t think they found the underground tank.”
Dylan and Kevin repeatedly lowered and raised the bucket, filling the truck’s tank and all the containers with fuel. Joel stood by and watched. The pistol still felt awkward. He tried to hold his arms in different positions and once tried to rest his hand on the pistol. No matter what he did, it felt uncomfortable to him, like a tumor at his side. After getting their fill, they drove directly to Dean’s lake community.
The entrance to the community was at the top of a hill that sloped down toward the water. The winding road to the lake had large, expensive homes on either side. Kevin stopped the truck just as the road began to slope downward.
“What?” asked Dylan.
“Maybe we don’t have to fight,” said Kevin. “What if we just leave, and come here? Dean said we’d be welcome.”
Dylan knew Kevin was talking to him, but he did not answer. He knew Kevin was right. The prudent thing to do was leave. Dylan knew he could not help his family if he ended up dead. But Dylan could still taste sweet revenge, and he was not ready to quit. He wanted vengeance.
“He’s right, Dylan,” said Joel. “There is no shame in staying alive.”
“You’re right; I think Dean would welcome us,” Dylan replied. “But what happens when Sam’s minions march past our little community and come for everybody down here?” Dylan pointed toward the lake. “Who could stop him then?”
“Then we leave again,” said Kevin.
Joel nodded in agreement.
“No,” said Dylan firmly. “I’m not ready to quit just yet.”
“Okay,” said Kevin. “Then I’m still with you, buddy.”
He put the truck into first gear, and it lurched forward. Joel groaned and began to wish he had not come. Kevin sped down the street, expecting to see someone to ask about Dean’s whereabouts. They saw nobody, and he slowed down the truck.
“This is weird,” said Kevin.
“What are you thinking?” asked Dylan.
“I don’t see anybody.”
“That’s what I was thinking, too.”
“Hey, guys, maybe we should leave,” suggested Joel.
“Not a chance, we’re already here,” said Dylan. “Just give it a second, maybe they’re all down by the shore.”
“That’s probably it,” said Kevin.
“Well, okay.” Joel nervously agreed.
They drove to where the street ended at a cul-de-sac of homes on the shoreline.
“Come on. I don’t like this,” Joel pleaded. “We should leave.”
Dylan and Kevin recognized Dean’s home to the right of the truck.
“Hold tight, Joel. This is where he lives,” said Dylan, as he exited the truck. He expected Joel to follow, but he did not. Dylan gave him a stern look and waved him out of the vehicle. Joel inched his way across the seat and finally got out of the truck. Joel and Kevin slammed their doors shut at the same time.
“Now I’m starting to not like this,” admitted Kevin.
“Honk the horn,” said Dylan. “Wake up somebody.”
Kevin reached through the truck’s open driver’s side window and honked the horn three times. The sound echoed around the houses.
Dylan still did not see anybody; he turned in disbelief and looked at Kevin. Just as he did, he saw Kevin’s eyes grow wide. Kevin pointed toward Dean’s house.
“Look, I see somebody,” announced Kevin.
Dylan spun around and expected to see Dean. It was not Dean, and he did not recognize the person. He saw a young man with hair as dark as his expressionless eyes, standing on the walkway at the side of Dean’s home. A small blanket draped over his shoulders like a cloak.
“Hey.” Dylan waved a friendly hand to greet the stranger. “Where’s Dean? We’re friends of his.” Dylan gestured for Kevin and Joel to follow him as he walked toward the man.
When Dyla
n got closer, the man replied with an almost monotonous tone, “He’s gone. Who are you?”
“I’m Dylan, this is Kevin, and the tall guy is Joel.”
Dylan looked past the man, into Dean’s backyard. He saw the familiar fire ring and hand-pump well. A small wooden structure stood next to the well. The rectangular box was a few feet wide and about seven feet tall. It had not been there the last time.
A thin smile emerged from the stranger’s face. “My name is Wayne. It’s good to finally see new people.”
“We really need to talk with Dean. It’s important,” said Dylan. “We’ll wait if we have to.”
“I’m a little thirsty,” said Kevin. Kevin also had looked into the backyard. After noticing the hand-pump well, he moved toward it for a drink of cool water.
“There’s a metal cup to drink with on the handle,” said the man as Kevin slowly walked by him.
“Like I said, he’s gone. He died. Everybody that didn’t die left about a month ago. The same thing happened where I came from, across the lake. I was living there with my parents when the pulse hit. Our neighborhood stuck together. It was rough, but we were making it. Near the end of autumn, almost everyone got sick. It was bad. Then they started dying as fast as they got ill. My parents died, too.”
“What was making them sick?” asked Joel. “What were the symptoms?”
“It seemed to start with a headache, and then there was dry coughing, abdominal pain, and swollen lymph nodes. But the worst part was the diarrhea. That was a terrible mess.”
“What are you thinking, Doc?” asked Dylan.
“Are you a doctor?” asked Wayne.
“Not really,” answered Joel. “You said it happened here just like it did where you lived? The same symptoms?”
“Yes,” Wayne replied. “I didn’t want to stay where I was after my parents died, so I left. I just walked away. Dean found me walking past, and he said I could stay here if I worked. So I did everything he asked. I worked hard.” Wayne turned and pointed at the wooden structure near the well. “I dug that latrine for them and built that outhouse.”
“A latrine? By the drinking water?” asked Joel. “That is not sanitary.”