by Ricky Sides
Pete raised his eyebrows and then he asked, “But you can?”
The sergeant relaxed and said, “Ok, I get your point, but I still want justice for that kid.”
“So do I, Sergeant Jackson, now go write that list for me.”
“Oh, I almost forgot to ask who was wounded.”
“It was Reggie Hammond and one of his friends. Nothing major. One of the guards heard them coming and got the drop on them. One of the other men tranquilized the kid but Reggie and his buddy rushed the kid and he jarred their heads with a couple of punches before the drug took effect.”
Since the sergeant was looking down at the list that he was compiling he didn’t notice the frown on Pete’s face.
Chapter 10
Reggie Hammond sat on his bunk examining his latest trophy. He smiled as he remembered how it had felt when he’d cut the unconscious guard's throat and taken his ears for his collection. He wished it had been the man who’d hit him, but that had been impossible, because Sergeant Jackson had been standing near that man. Looking at his two companions he said, “You just wait and see. This time next year, I’ll have Pete's ears on this string and then we’ll be running this outfit.”
His two friends were uneasy. Reggie always made them uncomfortable when he was handling his ear collection. Perhaps because he had the unnerving habit of looking at their ears from time to time as though he were imagining how they would look on his trophy string. They laughed nervously.
One of the men sitting on the bunk asked, “When we take over, will we get to have all the women in the retreat?”
Reggie laughed and said, “You can't get greedy about that sort of thing. Remember there are only three of us. We don’t want to have to kill everyone in the retreat. We might need them.”
The third man in the room spoke then for the first time. He said, “Man, I saw this cute little girl the other day and she was playing with a doll. Jeez, I wanted to take her right then.”
The smile left Reggie's face and he grabbed the man by the front of his shirt. Lifting him off the bunk, he shook him so hard his teeth rattled. “The little girls are mine! You know that and if you so much as touch one of them, I’ll cut your throat and put your ears on a string.”
“Sure, Reggie, I know that. I just forgot for a moment. It won't happen again.”
“It’d better not,” snarled Reggie. He calmed down then, almost instantly, and patted the man on the shoulder. He smiled and said, “Sergeant Jackson has a daughter. I hear she is going to be fifteen next week. That's much too old for my tastes, but she may be young enough to suit you.”
Thinking of the willowy girl Reggie was speaking of, the man grinned and said, “I'm sure she’ll do. But what about her old man? I hear he is one tough son-of-a-bitch.”
Reggie answered, “That won't be an issue. His ears will be on my string with Pete's.”
All three men laughed uproariously. Outside in the corridor three young girls heard the laughter. For some reason, it sent chills up their spines.
Chapter 11
Jim gunned the engine of the GoldWing and enjoyed the feel of the wind in his face. The bike had cost him two of his assault rifles but it had been worth it. Assault rifles were at a premium now. They had been hard to locate and expensive in the past several years because of the ban on imports into the country. Now they were treated like gold.
The man that Jim had traded with was still a bit upset with him because he had been two days late picking up the bike. He’d been forced to sweeten the deal with some extra ammunition to smooth the man's ruffled feathers, but he was happy with the arrangement.
He rode the new bike to his home in Athens. When he got there, he parked the GoldWing in the back yard and chained it to his porch. Jim stepped back, looked at his bike, and frowned. There was a spot of dirt on the gas tank. He cleaned the spot and stepped back to examine the bike again and nodded to himself in satisfaction. It was a beautiful machine, superbly made, and it would give him excellent service.
The phone was ringing when Jim walked in the door. He ran over and picked up the receiver, “Hello,” he said.
On the other end of the telephone line, his brother's voice spoke in anger. ”Dammit, Jim, I have been trying to call you for three hours now. Where the hell have you been?!”
Jim sensed something in his brother's voice that made him nervous. He said, “I'm sorry, I've been out on business, is something wrong?”
His brother's voice sounded urgent as he said, “I don't have much time, so listen carefully. The Army has ordered all the troops in the continental United States to go into shelters tonight by 10:00 P.M.” There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, and then Tim said in a shaky voice, “I think sometime tonight we’re going to launch a nuclear first strike at someone. Maybe several countries, hell I don't know, but it sure looks like the crap's about to hit the fan.”
Jim's breath seemed to freeze in his lungs. For a moment, fear seemed to stop time for him. He was aware of shouting in the background on the other end of the line and realized that things must be in a state of chaos at Fort Polk, Louisiana where his brother was stationed. He was even aware of the sound of the clock on his living room wall.
Tim's voice came over the line again. “I see some brass coming. I only have a few more seconds and then I’ll probably be under arrest for using the phone. I had to sneak in here to use the base commander's phone.”
Jim spoke hurriedly, desperate to finish this conversation before they were cut off. “No matter what happens, I want you to take care of yourself; promise me that.”
“It's a promise, big brother and you do the same.”
Then Jim heard an angry voice in the background saying, “Sergeant Wilison, what the hell are you doing on the phone? You know we were ordered to stay off the phone. Why the hell do you think all the other phones on the base have been disconnected?”
Tim's voice came over the line one last time. “I love you, brother. I hope I see you again.”
Jim immediately replied, “I love you too.” He hoped that his brother had heard his reply. He couldn't be sure because the line had gone dead just as he had replied.
Jim hung up and picked up his phone book. He looked over at the clock on the wall as he flipped through the pages looking for the number to reach Margaret's sister. In the back of his mind, he noted that it was four o'clock in the afternoon. His search for the phone number became more frantic when he couldn’t immediately find it. He distinctly remembered Margaret saying that she had put it in the back of the phone book. Then he found the folded piece of paper. Opening the paper, he was surprised to discover a paragraph of neatly written script but no phone number.
Jim,
I know that you’re going to be angry with me for lying to you about the phone number but I have a good reason. You see, I needed someone to help me get over the pain I felt when my husband deserted me. You did that and I thank you. But, I’m not ready for love yet. Maybe someday I will be, and then I’ll look you up, if you’re still available. Thanks for being there when I needed someone.
Margaret
Jim quietly cursed as he folded the note and put it back in the book. He remembered that the number for Margaret's sister was unpublished and he had no way to get it. He also had no idea where the woman lived beyond the fact that it was Huntsville. To make matters worse she’d never even told him her sister's name or the name of her husband. It could take him days to locate her and he only had hours at best. He sighed and resigned himself to the facts; there was no way to warn her.
He had to set aside his personal feelings for now and concentrate on his own survival. He hurriedly packed up what food was in the house and locked it in the trunk of his car. Then he went back inside, brought out his remaining rifles and ammunition, and locked them in the trunk as well.
When he went back inside his house, Jim looked at all of the things that he had accumulated over the years and shook his head. There was nothing left in the house that
he would need. He grabbed extra blankets, quilts and clothes and threw them into the back seat of his car.
Glancing down at his watch as he left for his retreat, he noted that it was four thirty-six. He drove smoothly through town obeying all traffic laws. It would be bad to be stopped now. Especially bad in view of the time he would lose. Soon he was out on the open highway and beyond the heavier town traffic, which meant he could pick up speed. Thirty minutes later he was at his main retreat.
He jumped out of the car, unloaded his things and took them down the shaft to his retreat. As quickly as he could he stored the items in the main chamber of the retreat and then he drove back to town. It was six-fifteen when Jim got back to his house. On the drive to the retreat, he’d remembered Pete's books as well as a couple of other small items he might want. These items he loaded into the trunk and saddlebags of the GoldWing.
When he had completed the loading process Jim stopped what he was doing for a moment and stood still thinking. “Oh what the hell,” he said in exasperation. He ran over to his car and jumped in. As quickly as he could, he drove to see his old friends in town. That didn’t take long because he only had two still in town. The rest had left over the years. He patiently explained what was going on to both of the men but they didn’t believe him.
It was sad that his friends would probably die soon but it was out of his hands now. They’d made their own decision and he had done the best that he could.
As he was driving home, he thought of Jimmy Parker and thought, “Maybe I can convince them to take shelter.” He saw it was eight o'clock. Knowing the military penchant for being prepared hours in advance of any major operation, he could assume they would not launch their strike until about midnight.
Jimmy Parker was out in his front yard when Jim pulled up at the house. Jimmy said, “Hi, Jim. How are you?”
Jim said, “I need to speak to your dad, is he home?”
“He's in the living room watching the news.” The teen led the way for Jim.
When Jim walked into the living room, he saw that his medicine had indeed helped Jimmy's father. It had only been three days, yet the man was looking almost well.
Jim said, “Mr. Parker, I have to tell you something very important.” He noticed Jimmy’s little sister so he added, “You might not want your children to hear this.”
Mr. Parker looked down at his daughter and said, “Honey, go into the kitchen and ask your mother to fix Mr. Wilison a glass of tea.” The little girl obediently left to do as her father had instructed. Jim looked pointedly at Jimmy, but his father said, “Jimmy's almost a man now. Go ahead.”
Jim said, “You're right. He is almost a man.” Jim then told the Parkers about the phone call from Tim and then explained the significance of the conversation. He told them what he thought the conditions would be like if a nuclear war were fought and then he waited a minute for Mr. Parker to digest the news.
Mr. Parker said, “What can we do? We don't have any supplies. We don't have any money and even if we did, we don't have time to buy them.”
Jim said, “I know, Mr. Parker.” He looked the father in the eyes and asked, “Do you folks have any family or friends here?”
Mr. Parker shook his head and said, “We’ve only been in Alabama a few years. We moved here from Ohio.”
“Then you and your family come with me and stay in my retreat,” Jim offered.
Jim could see the conflict in the man's eyes. He didn’t want to accept charity, yet the man loved his family. In the end love won as it usually does. Rising to his feet Mr. Parker said, “Thanks, Jim.”
Jim said, “My pleasure, Sir. We'd better hurry if we’re going to get to the shelter in time.”
Mr. Parker said, “You've just earned yourself a friend for life.”
Smiling at the man he said, “Don't be so quick to thank me. You haven’t seen the retreat yet. It's not much of a place to spend a lot of time but it will keep us alive if the war comes.”
The preparations went smoothly and by ten o'clock, Jim was on the way to his retreat. He was riding his GoldWing, Jimmy was driving his car and the Parkers were in their station wagon. By eleven-thirty that night, the vehicles had been unloaded and Jim stood watch near the entrance with Mr. Parker who was looking up at the night sky. There was a quarter moon shining through a thin layer of clouds. The wind was blowing softly on his upturned face as he watched the stars twinkle. He said, “It's such a beautiful night.” Then he turned and looked in another direction just in time to see a shooting star blaze across the night sky and disappear on the horizon. With a soft tone of voice he asked, “Will there ever be another night like this?”
Jim didn’t answer the question. He didn’t know the answer, and he wasn’t even sure the man was asking him. For some reason, he was almost certain that the man was asking God. He spent a few more moments studying the night sky with Mr. Parker, and then he said, “I think we should go in now, Mr. Parker.”
The man turned reluctantly from his observation of the night sky. Smiling, he said, “I think if we are going to be living together for a while you should call me Frank. It's going to get awful tedious hearing you call me ‘Mr. Parker’ all the time.”
Smiling at the older man, Jim said, “Frank it is then.”
The two men had just gotten to the main chamber of the retreat when they felt the first tremors. Jim glanced up in growing alarm and stared at the ceiling of his retreat fearing a potential collapse. In silence, he watched as several chunks of rock and dirt fell to the floor but the ceiling held.
For thirty seconds the earth shook and when it was over Jimmy asked, “Was that a bomb dad?”
“I don't know, Jimmy. It could have been I suppose.” Then Frank turned to his five-year-old daughter and spoke reassuringly, “Its OK, Honey. You'll be safe here.”
Shirley Parker was having a hard time with the little girl. The child was understandably frightened and wanted to go home. She looked bravely at her husband and squeezed his hand, then she picked up the little girl and said, “I'll bet you would like a cookie wouldn't you?”
“But mom you always say I can't have cookies late at night.”
This innocent statement brought tears to the mother's eyes and she looked instinctively to her husband for support. Frank said, “It's all right, Honey. This is a special night. Go ahead and have a cookie.”
The little girl looked at her mother and asked, “Since it's a special night can I have three cookies?”
Shirley caressed her daughter's face lovingly and said, “Sure Honey, you can have three cookies and some nice milk to go with it.” Looking at Jimmy she asked, “Would you like some milk and cookies too?”
Jimmy was at that awkward age. He was old enough to resent being mothered at times, yet he was still young enough to enjoy such treats. On one hand, he wanted the treat, but on the other, he didn’t want to look like a kid to the men.
Frank understood and came to his son's rescue. “Go on, Son. I think your mother needs to be with both her children tonight.”
Jimmy happily went over to his mother and picked up his little sister. Shirley smiled her gratitude at her husband and led the children to the box that contained the cookies and milk that she had brought from their home.
“You handled that quite well,” Jim said, as he watched the boy and girl eagerly accept their cookies from their mother.
Frank said, “I remember what it was like to be in that transition phase. Seemed to me I was too old for the good things a kid enjoys and too young for the good things a man enjoys.”
An hour later there was another tremor. This one was less violent than the first one but it seemed to last as long. This time the ceiling remained intact.
Jim walked over to the Parkers who were sitting with their daughter and said, “I don't believe the bombs are falling. It's possible that I'm wrong of course, but I don't think so.”
Frank asked, “Why do you say that? Wouldn't a nuclear explosion cause the ground to shake like it's
been doing?”
“There would be some tremors, but they wouldn't have been as severe as the first one we experienced and there haven't been enough tremors.” Seeing the confused expression on Frank's face he added, “You see there’s dozens of targets in this area of the country. But we have only felt two tremors and they were an hour apart. There should’ve been at least five or six within minutes of each other.”
“Maybe we should turn on the radio and see what we can learn,” Jim said looking pointedly at Frank. They’d discussed the radio while they were making their way into the shelter and decided against playing it for fear that it might panic the children. Now, circumstances indicated they might need to take that risk. Frank solemnly nodded his approval.
Jim walked over to the short radio table that he’d set up near one wall of the shelter and turned the radio on. Jim was delighted when he heard his favorite FM radio station still broadcasting.
When the radio came on, Jimmy asked, “How can your radio get a signal way down here?”
“I’ve got a concealed antenna topside. A wire leads down here and connects with the radio.” Then he said, “Listen! I think he’s talking about what has been going on.”
The radio deejay sounded shaken up. He was attempting to make light of the situation but his attempts seemed half-hearted at best. “I guess I'm not the only person to get knocked on my butt tonight. Let me say this, and I don't mind admitting it, I was scared.”
Jim and Frank exchanged knowing looks. They could easily imagine the man's fear. They had both experienced a couple of minutes of that sensation as the ground shook around them.
The deejay continued with his report, “It's still too early to tell for certain, but from the reports coming in over the wire services, I'd say the earthquakes are happening all over the country. What little of San Francisco that was spared from devastation during last week’s earthquake is now reportedly destroyed. They just had a quake that measured nine-point-four on the Richter scale. I'm not sure but I believe that will be a new record.”