by John Grit
“I am nervous, been nervous since people first started shooting at me.” Nate took one last look around and stood. “But if you’re not a danger to me, you’re safe enough. Put your hands on your head and turn, so I can see if you have any more weapons on you.”
The man did as he was told.
“Now the girl,” Nate said.
She stood and slowly turned with her shaking hands over her head. The front of her clothes was wet from lying on the swamp floor.
Nate lowered his rifle, but kept it shouldered. “Come over here and find a place to sit.”
There was no log or dry ground to sit on, so the man and girl leaned against a cypress trunk.
Nate walked closer and stood in front of them, but stayed back more than twenty feet. “What is it you want?”
The girl’s nervous eyes flashed, and she looked at her father.
“First, we want to apologize about what happened on the road. You can come and get the rest of your stuff now if you want. We won’t bother you.”
Nate looked the man over. “Well, something has changed. Is the sheriff dead?”
“That chopper killed him and a few of his cohorts,” the man said. “There’s been kind of a mutiny of sorts. What’s left of the sheriff’s men are tied up. He was no sheriff anyway. There was no election. Nothing about him being a sheriff was legal. Most of the crowd you saw at the road was not really with him. We came to stop the raiders from hurting anyone else. The sheriff had his own agenda.”
Nate’s eyes brightened. “How did you and your daughter wind up being with his bunch?”
“We weren’t really. I came because the bastards you tangled with at the bridge killed my wife.” The man motioned with his head to his daughter. “I had to take her with me because I couldn’t leave her alone. Besides, she was rather bullheaded about coming.” He looked over at her and she looked down, averting her eyes from him. “Thanks to you, I guess it was you, she got to see the man who killed her mother dead. Found him with the top part of his head missing not far from the bridge.”
The girl looked away, her eyes filling.
“It was a terrible thing for a girl to see, him and all the others lying around rotting,” the man said. “She’s seen too much already, but she insisted.”
The girl spoke up. “The bastard’s dead, that’s all that matters.” She wiped her face.
“You two took quite a chance coming out here,” Nate said. “Do you know me? I don’t recognize you.”
“We never met,” the man said. “People have told me about you and your family though, one old guy I met a few months ago even knew your father. My name is Austin Stinson. My daughter’s name is Renee.”
“Who was the old man?” Nate asked.
“Skeeter Thornton.” Stinson sighed. “That bunch you’ve been fighting killed him. “Even though he couldn’t run or even walk far, he could still shoot. He took a few with him.”
“Those the disease hasn’t taken, killers have.” Nate swallowed. “I wonder how long it will be before we can get to work rebuilding this country, instead of killing each other. Skeeter was as good as they come. His wife died some years back. They had no kids.” There was silence between them for a few seconds. The mosquitoes buzzed.
“What exactly is on your mind, besides telling me I can get the rest of my stuff?” Nate moved closer, reducing the seven yards between them to three.
“There’s a big farm. The owners and help all died in the plague evidently. They were what you probably consider to be neighbors in this isolated area, even thought the farm is miles from here, so you probably knew them.”
“Yeah, I knew them.” Nate took a step closer. “The old man’s name was Gary Oak. Everyone called him Red…Red Oak. They called the farm that too.”
“Well, it’s a big farm, and the owners are dead. We buried them behind the house under a stand of oaks. The looters haven’t gotten to it yet, and…well, about two dozen of us were thinking we could start a community farm there.” The man seemed to be trying to judge Nate’s reaction, but saw nothing on his face. “If any living relatives show up, we wouldn’t give them any trouble. Hopefully, we could work out an agreement with them and stay or be allowed to take the crops we grew before we left at least. We’re not about stealing. We just want to keep from starving, and that farm is sitting there idle.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Nate did not like it when the girl moved to his left. If she kept inching that way, he would not be able to keep both of them in his sight at the same time. He wished he had stayed farther back.
“Back over here, Renee. You got ants in your pants?” Stinson gave her a stern look. “I was one of them chosen to look for you and explain we’re not stealing anything, from you or anyone else. We just want to use the Red Oak Farm to raise food on. Another bunch went downriver searching for you.” He looked up at Nate. “I guess my girl and me were the ones lucky enough to go in the right direction. You got a lot farther upriver than we figured, but we had an idea you might use the river for travel. Anyway, we were worried you might take us as being like those at the bridge.”
“Are you?”
“No sir, we’re not. Uh, we also wanted to invite you to join our group. We could sure use a person with real farming experience, not to mention you’ve proven yourself to be valuable in a fight. Some of us have raised backyard gardens, but none are real farmers. We would ask to join you at your farm, but it’s kind of small for the size of our group.”
“Yeah, it’s too small for that many people.” Nate appraised the man. “I won’t say no now, but I can’t say yes right now either. As far as you moving onto Red Oak Farm, well, it’s not mine. If everything is the way you have presented here, I have no problem with it. Red did have children who moved away, and they had children. So don’t be surprised if someone does show up in the future.”
“We figured that. We don’t want to steal anything; we just want to use it to feed our families.”
Nate nodded. “I understand.”
Mr. Stinson headed for his shotgun. “We’ll be going now. If you come with us, I’ll get some of the men to help you get your stuff to your farm.” He stopped short. “Unless you want us to carry it all the way down to the river, so you can use that raft to take it someplace else.”
“I’ll have to think on that,” Nate said. “In the mean time, I’ll be happy to get it all in my barn.”
All three walked to Stinson’s shotgun. He immediately slung it on his shoulder to not make Nate nervous. “Heading upriver? You have another place somewhere?”
“We were going to hide it,” Nate said.
Stinson smiled and kept walking. “Good idea. I heard there might be thieves around.”
When they got twenty yards from Brian, Nate spoke up. “See any sign of anyone else, Brian?”
Brian stepped around from behind a hickory tree and shook his head. He looked the man over and then the girl.
“This is my son, Brian,” Nate said. “Brian, this is Mr. Stinson and his daughter Renee.”
Brian nodded at both of them. “I didn’t hear much. What’s going on?”
“They’re going to help us get the rest of our supplies to the barn” Nate said.
Brian blinked. “Okay. What about the sheriff?”
“Dead. The helicopter,” Nate answered. “We owe Mel more than we thought.”
Brian smiled.
Renee laughed. “Look Dad, he can smile.”
Brian said nothing. He did not even roll his eyes, or turn red. He did not seem to notice that Renee was pretty.
“We have only so much daylight, and we have a lot to do,” Nate said. “Let’s get back to that flatbed and see if we can get it unstuck.”
Stinson checked a compass and led the way with Renee behind him.
Nate checked his own compass while Stinson was not looking. He was not about to rely on a stranger’s navigation, anymore than he was completely convinced Stinson had told him the total truth. We’ll see. T
his might be a turnaround in our fortunes, or it might be a death trap.
Brian followed behind, as alert as his father.
Chapter 3
“See,” Brian said. “There’s no way the four of us are getting that thing unstuck.”
Nate started walking, leaving the flatbed truck where it sat in the mud. He talked over his shoulder, heading upslope to the farmhouse. “We might get it out, if we had enough manpower pulling on a thick rope.”
“We’ll bring half a dozen men with us after we have the first load of your stuff in your barn,” Stinson said. “It would be a shame to lose that flatbed. It’ll haul a big load.”
~~~~
Nate stopped just inside the edge of the woods and looked uphill, across his field of now dead tomato plants. He saw the yard was full of trucks and men. He glanced at Stinson, “Stay there for a minute.”
Stinson cocked his head. “What is it?”
“Brian, maneuver around real careful and position yourself so you can see me and what goes on, but no one can see you. Keep behind bullet-stopping cover, not just concealment.”
Brian nodded, his face serious. “It’ll still be dangerous if it’s a trap.”
“You are going to be my only insurance, so stay alert,” Nate said. “Hide in a place where you know the range. If you have to shoot, you need to be accurate.”
“I thought we were past that,” Stinson interrupted.
“Maybe we are,” Nate said. “It all depends on what happens when we get to my house.” He kept his eyes on Stinson. “Go on, Brian. You have to be in place before I get up there.” He spoke again, before Brian had taken two steps. “Be careful, like I taught you. Don’t rush into an ambush. I’ll give you fifteen minutes before we move from here.”
“Okay.” Brian was out of sight in seconds.
“I don’t mind you being careful,” Stinson said. “All those armed men up there would make anyone nervous. I understand.”
“That’s about it.” Nate noticed unease in the man’s eyes. “I’m just being careful.”
Stinson did not seem to be reassured. “If something were to happen, you wouldn’t hurt my daughter, would you?”
“As long as she stays out of it and stays unarmed, she has nothing to fear from me. There are a lot of guns up there, though. You never know where a stray bullet will wind up.” Nate examined Stinson’s face, trying to read him. He squared off on Stinson. “Look, if there is something you have not told me, you better speak up before we go out there in the open. There is little chance you will come out of it alive. My son will kill you. He’s killed before, and he’s getting harder every day. I hate it, but that’s the way the world is now.”
Stinson’s Adam’s apple moved up his throat. “It’s not a trap. I took a chance coming to you. I brought Renee to prove it’s no ruse.”
“I thought she insisted on coming.”
“I was talking about her coming with me and the group up there. I took her with me to look for you, because you would be less likely to think it’s a trap.”
“It doesn’t really prove anything,” Nate said. “Don’t worry. If it’s not a trap, there will be no trouble. You getting nervous like you are is making me wonder, though.”
Stinson looked him in the eye. “It’s not a trap. If anyone raises a weapon against you, I’ll shoot him myself.”
“We’ll see,” Nate said. “It’s time to find out.” He motioned with his head. “You and your daughter lead the way.”
Stinson pushed through the brush and walked out into Nate’s field. His daughter followed.
Nate walked off to the side, keeping them between him and the men in his backyard.
~~~~
Brian rested the carbine on a water oak limb. He gripped the weapon tight, and suddenly felt overheated. Sweat ran down his forehead and into his eyes, but he dare not take his attention away from the crowd. He saw several dozen men turn almost in unison. They watched the trio inch closer, coming from the low end of the field, with Nate seven paces behind.
Brian watched the crowd, his carbine ready.
A man, who was shorter than the rest and on the near edge of the crowd, raised his rifle and aimed at the group.
Brian swung the carbine and held the red dot on the man’s chest. His heart rate doubled, and he drenched his shirt. Sweat stung his eyes. The only thing that stopped him from taking up all the slack on the trigger was the fact he knew his father was protected to some degree, because he was behind the man and girl.
A taller man noticed and rushed over. He pushed the rifle down and said something to the short man. Brian did not need to hear. You better not let that happen again, or someone is going to get shot.
Brian could tell Stinson was talking as he came up on the crowd. The taller man, who had stopped the short one from pointing his rifle at them, left the crowd and met Stinson, said a few words, and then walked up to Nate and shook his hand.
Brian’s pulse slowed, but he kept the sight’s red dot on the tall man’s upper body. Careful, Dad. Using the periphery of his vision, he tried to keep watch on all the others, but watched the tall man the most.
Brian grew more at ease when it appeared Nate was having a casual conversation with the tall man and a few others. A middle-aged woman, thin and small, but carrying herself with confidence, talked with Nate for a few seconds. Nate stepped closer and they hugged each other lightly. Brian’s memory started to kick in. That’s Mrs. MacKay. He thought about the farm her and her husband owned ten miles east of the Williams’ farm. Their two outdoors-loving sons moved to Alaska at the age of twenty-one and twenty-two, and had not been seen in the county since. “We want to see a part of the world that has not yet been totally crapped on by people,” Stan had told Brian. Clayton, the younger brother, had just smiled and nodded, as was his usual quiet way. That was three years ago. Where is Mr. MacKay? He swallowed. Dead. Mr. MacKay had been a crop-duster when he was younger, and he continued to fly and owned a small plane. He took Brian on a few rides. He felt bad that he and his father had not checked on them. We’ve been too damn busy dodging bullets. He sighed; bone-deep weariness seeped into him. He was tired of being afraid for his father and his friends and himself. He was tired of killing men.
The crowd began to move, and then formed into separate groups, each group heading for a pickup or heavy-duty truck. Brian thought they must all be diesels. Gas had been unreliable as fuel for vehicles for months and few people had much gas left anyway. He watched as his father headed for a two-ton flatbed. Mrs. MacKay walked beside him, talking. Occasionally, she would put her hand on his shoulder or upper arm, as a sign of friendship, or gesticulate to reinforce her words. Brian knew her as a strong woman who took no lip off anyone, but would give a needy person her last dollar. She often hired legal immigrants to work the farm, but refused to hire a single illegal one. Every farmhand in the county wanted to work for her and her husband. They knew they would be paid well and treated with respect. The MacKays paid all their employees according to their skill and work ethic, not race. Many black and Hispanic employees working for them were paid more than white employees.
He watched as his father helped her into the cab and then climbed onto the flatbed.
What now? Brian’s face revealed the strain he felt.
His father signaled for him to stay put when no one was watching.
Brian sighed. Who’s going to watch over you now?
The pickups and trucks, all loaded down with men and a few women, maneuvered for position, their engines sputtering and running rough, and then snaked their way into the drive and disappeared around a curve.
~~~~
Nate got a good look at the sheriff’s burned-out pickup as they went by. It had been pushed out of the way. Its tires were burned, so it gouged a deep scar in the soil when it was pushed by a four-wheel-drive truck into the shallow ditch. The charred bodies in the cab had not been removed. The sheriff had a grotesque permanent smile, the result of his facial flesh being burned
away.
At the road, he found more people, mostly men, separating items from the disabled trucks left by the raiders into neat piles, so people could try to pick what they could recognize as theirs and carry it to their own trucks. They were using an honor system and Nate wondered if it would apply to him, or would they not believe him when he pointed something out as his property.
The driver stopped the truck Nate rode in and he jumped off. Mrs. MacKay opened the cab door and Nate helped her down.
She saw nervous tension on Nate’s face. “These folks are okay. You won’t have any trouble with them. In fact, they feel they owe you, so don’t be surprised if they load you down with food that’s not yours. We all know you, Brian, and your friends are the only reason the brigands did not get away. Your friend Mel told us.”
“We were just trying to protect our farm, so we would not starve. We really had no idea how many people were left alive in this area. We’ve been busy and have not had time to check. Travel is not exactly safe anyway.”
She looked up at him and put her right hand on his shoulder. “You’ve always been a good neighbor. Your father and mother were as good as they come.” The twinkle in her eyes vanished. “I’m so sorry about Susan and little Beth.”
Nate’s chest rose. He nodded. “Too much death and pain. And some are making it worse.” He looked around at others who were standing nearby, listening. “We must do better than we’ve been. We have to protect the innocent from the predators. If we don’t work together, we’re all going to die alone.”
Several men nodded their heads.
Mrs. MacKay gave Nate a wintry smile. “We’re working on that, Nate. We’re working on it. This county’s got a lot less trash in it today than it had a few days ago.”
One of the men standing nearby spoke. “We’re setting up roadblocks to keep the killers out of this part of the county.” He stepped closer and shook Nate’s hand. “Name’s Chet Gilmore.”
Nate nodded. “You live around here? I don’t remember ever meeting you.”