At a main crossroad, I remembered that there was a Dollar General store to the left. I tapped the back glass, pointed to the left and shouted, “Dollar General.”
He turned. A half mile along, we pulled into the parking lot of the store. There were only three cars in the lot. One had its hood up with a middle-aged man fiddling around under it.
Climbing over the side of the truck bed on Bella’s side, we waited for John to join us. I started to speak, but the man working on his truck interrupted me.
“Hey. Their computers are down, cash only. Reckon you could give me a jump after you shop?”
“Tell him yes,” I whispered to John.
John shouted an affirmative and then said to me, “Bella and I don’t have cash.”
“I do. Give me a minute.” I opened the truck door, leaned out of sight of the man so I could spread the wad I’d hastily stuffed into my pocket. I counted a thousand dollars from the pile and sorted out two stacks of three hundred, keeping the rest for myself.
Handing Bella and John separate bundles, I said, “In case they have a limit on how much we can buy, let’s act like we don’t know each other. What we want is any sort of food that won’t go bad. Another thing is buy a lot of coffee and tea and some powdered drinks. Try to spend all the money.”
I could tell they were curious about the money, but they didn’t ask. "Bella and I will go in first. John, wait a minute and then come in and shop as fast as you can.”
At the door to the store, I waved Bella through, counted to ten and followed her in. Hearing the bell on the door jingle, the female clerk behind the counter shouted, “Computers are down. Cash only.” She didn’t say anything about a limit, so I went shopping.
Pushing my cart to the grocery aisles, I saw Bella standing in front of cereal boxes trying to make a decision. Passing by her, I whispered, “Don’t overthink it, we don’t have time. Just grab and move.”
When I figured I’d loaded three-hundred from the shelves, I prodded them to hurry. I made sure to be the last to check out. Bella’s load was twenty over. Rather than let them figure out what to take off, I called out, “I’ll pay the twenty for her. I’m in a hurry.” During my turn to check out, the cashier said, “Lord, the way people are buying you’d think a snowstorm was coming.
Looking at my second cart overloaded with toilet paper, she said, “Did you leave any on the shelves?” That’ll be two-hundred eighty-seven-fifty.”
At the truck, we placed all the bags near the tailgate and I climbed back aboard. Pulling from the store, I heard a shout and realized we’d forgotten about the man who wanted a jumpstart. It wouldn’t have mattered if we had remembered. His car was too new and his electronics probably fried.
************
The Amazon distribution was located on this side of Lexington and that meant that we didn’t have to go through the city. Pulling into the parking lot past an open and unattended security gate, there were over a hundred vehicles parked, most with their hoods up.
Near the entrance to the facility, a mass of employees milled about. Even from a distance, it was easy to tell that they were irritated. Two men broke from the crowd and began running toward us.
I slapped the top of the cab and yelled for John to stop. I must have scared the crap out of him. He hit the brakes and my forehead hit the back windshield almost hard enough to knock me unconscious.
It took a second or two to shake off the effects of the blow… long enough for the two men to cross half the distance of the huge parking lot. I shrugged out of the blankets and brought my rifle up, and they were almost to the truck. One of the men had a pistol in his hand.
I noticed more people, men and women were starting toward us from the entrance.
Feeling as if I were on a movie set, I pointed the AR at the two and shouted, “Halt or I’ll shoot.”
They stopped. The one with the pistol, shouted, “I need a ride. Just me, I don’t know this guy.”
‘This guy’, the one without a pistol said, “Have it then,” and turned to walk away. I shouted, “Wait, please, don’t leave. You… you with the gun, get away from us.”
“I’m not going anywhere, girl. I told you, I need a ride. An EMP knocked out the electronics on my car.”
“That’s your problem.”
“Girl, I doubt you even know how to shoot that rifle.” His hand moved to raise the pistol and I fired a shot at his feet. He continued to bring it pistol up, so I shot his leg. That dropped his hand down. He let go of the pistol to wrap both his hands around his thigh, screaming his pain as he hopped around.
To the other man, I said, “Pick up his pistol and put it in your pocket.”
He shook his head. “I’m not part of this. I was going to ask for a ride, not try to make you give me one.”
“Pick up the pistol. I want to talk to you.”
He picked it up and put it in his pocket.
Speaking loud enough that John could hear me, I said to him, “The truck’s going to back away from this… this carjacker. Follow us.”
I slapped the cab of the truck. “Back us up about fifty feet.”
As John slowly backed up, I noticed that the ones from the entrance had changed their mind about bothering us.
John stopped and the man caught up, stopping about ten feet from the front of the truck. I jumped from the bed on John’s side. His window was down.
“Come out with me to talk to the man.”
As John climbed out, I said to the man, “Stand on the other side of the hood. I want to see if we can help each other.”
The man, black-hair and dark skin like an Arab, perhaps in his middle twenties, moved to the opposite side of the truck’s frontend.
“What’s your name?”
“Nick.”
Given his accent, I doubted that was his real name. “Where are you from?”
“I live in Lexington.”
I let it go. Given the circumstances, I’d be cagey if I were a foreigner.
“You work inside the center, right?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know how to locate items in there? I imagine there are—.”
“I can locate anything.”
“Okay. Here’s the deal. We need a Geiger counter, radiation dosimeters and if possible, iodine. You get us those and we’ll give you a ride.”
“That will take me at least thirty minutes.”
Ignoring the string of expletives the shot man was screaming as he limped back to the building, I said, “Take what time you need. We’ll be outside the gates about a half mile south on the road. Even if you don’t see us, keep walking. I promise we won’t cheat you.”
“And you will give me a ride. That you promise?”
“You have my promise.”
“I will tell those there that you wanted gold, not dollars and told me to go to hell.”
“Why gold?”
“Inside there is much gold. Gold watches, gold jewelry, even diamonds.”
“Well skip that and get what we asked for.”
“I will get what you ask. Please do not change your mind.”
As he walked away, before climbing back into the bed of the truck I told John to find us a place on the road to hide while we waited.
************
The wait was longer, nearly an hour, nearly enough time for us to count it a loss and leave. The wait was at the back corner of a vacant building where we had a view of the road. A wait spent talking about me shooting the man.
Climbing into the front seat where it was warmer, Bella hit the right note. “Child, that man was going to steal our truck.”
“Yes mam, he was.”
“I’m glad you didn’t kill him.”
“I didn’t want to shoot him at all, but if he hadn’t dropped the pistol, I would’ve shot him dead.”
John said, “Jesus, Tempest, how old are you... but he did come at us with a gun. The other man spoke of gold. I’ll tell you what’s gold. Gold is a running vehicle. Min
e doesn’t have fancy electronics, but I guarantee you Bella’s electric won’t move.”
Bella, still obsessing of the gunplay, asked, “Don’t you feel anything about shooting the man?”
Actually what I was feeling was, stupid. Most of the survivalist literature I’d read promoted, “If you shoot at all, shoot to kill.” Maybe that would prove true in most situations, but I felt wounding him was the proper response. My answer to Bella was, “No. He was going to shoot me. I saw it in his eyes.”
John agreed, “Yep, he’d of killed you. I hope we make it home alive. I doubt he’s the last person we’ll meet that will kill for a running vehicle. I’m almost willing to forget about—.”
I knew what he was about to say, and cut him short. “We promised we’d wait.”
Bella said, speaking mainly to John, “We’re going to wait.”
As I said, the man almost used up his waiting time, but then there he came, walking down the road carrying two canvas bags with shoulder straps. John tooted his horn and the man quickened his pace.
I climbed from the truck, my AR ready in case things went bad. He stopped before reaching the truck and spoke.
“I have what you asked.”
John shouted, “Show us.”
The man lowered the bags to the ground and reached inside one. I tensed, but his hand came out holding a package, not a weapon.
“I have this, the Geiger counter and two other brands. This one is rechargeable. I have the dosimeters as well. I did not know what iodine so I bring many kinds. Now you will take me to my wife and children.”
I called, “Do you know back streets. We’d like to avoid the main ones if possible.”
“I understand. Yes, I know the good way.”
“Toss the bags into the bed of the truck and ride in front. John will take you there.”
I found it hadn’t warmed while we’d waited and the ride to the man’s house was long. My light jacket and the blankets did little to defeat the cold wind of the ride.
John pulled onto the driveway of a small house in a neighborhood of small houses and mobile homes. A black-haired, slim woman ran from the house, grabbed the man as he was climbing from the truck, speaking rapidly in a foreign language all the while.
Finally, he was able to speak to her. Then turning to us, he said, “In the bags are things for me as well. Let us bring them inside to sort. My wife, Preeja has hot tea.”
I had to ask about something that struck me odd. “Why haven’t any of your neighbors come outside to see who has a running vehicle?”
Nick made a swooping motion with a hand. “Inside the homes you will find mostly children. Some women, but the men and most women are at work and as I, cannot get home. Many of them remain at Amazon. Come, come, I am cold, but you are shivery. Come have hot tea.”
Entering the home, I experienced the strong odor of curry mingled with other pungent spices. We followed Nick and Preeja to their dining room, passing two young children at a Parcheesi board on the carpet. They greeted us with wide-eyed stares.
There was a table in the dining room, a very low one that required sitting on the floor to use it. Around the table were narrow strips of Asian rugs to sit on.
Waving us to the floor, Preeja said, “Sit. I bring tea.”
We sat, John and Bella stifled groans as they did. I imagine it had been years since they’d sat on a floor. While they tried to find a comfortable position, Nick began placing items from the canvas bags onto the table, naming them as he did.
“Dosimeters, single-use lead-foil wrapped, Geiger counter, more dosimeters, iodine.”
Preeja brought a tray with a spouted metal pitcher and several fragile looking cups. She interrupted his inventory.
“Vikas, later; now is tea. Make room.”
Vikas pushed the bounty to the end of the table so Preeja could place the tray.
John said, “Vikas, not Nick. Which do you prefer?”
“At home and among friends, I prefer Vikas. We are from India.”
“What are your children’s names?” Bella asked.
Preeja, pouring steaming tea into cups and distributing them answered Bella’s question.
“Our son, Sunil; He is thirteen years. Our daughter Sunia is twelve years.
Then speaking Indian to Vikas, she launched into a speech that from his expression and responses, I figured were questions. Vikas held up his hand. “Do we forget now our good manners? We speak English.”
Blushing, Preeja said, “I beg pardon. I ask my husband, who you are. I also have concern about our cable and cellphone not functioning. Is it true that America is at war; a big war with atomic weapons?”
John answered, “Bella,” waving to her, “my sister caught a few minutes of news before the cable stopped working. Big cities and other places were bombed. I would imagine the United States answered those bombs.”
“Who began such stupidness?” Vikas asked.
“We did,” was John’s short answer.
“It does not matter who,” Preeja blurted, “Now our plans are not good. With war, we will not go to the airport for tickets home. We are here where they hate us.”
Vikas, forgetting his reprimand to Preeja, launched into his native language. This went on for several minutes. Turning to face us, he said, “Again we must apologize. Amazon is where we work because the US has a shortage of workers. I work the day shift for twelve hours. The company bus brings me home. Preeja boards it for the night shift. Here we are hated, called foreign invaders, job thieves and worse.
“Preeja is sure that the war will make it dangerous for us. Maybe law will fail and the crazy ones will kill us. I think she is correct in this. We have no means to protect ourselves, no guns, only knives. I think not long will pass before guns are pointed at us.”
John said, “You seemed to indicate that most of your neighbors are Indian like you. Surely, some of you have weapons. You can band together.”
“Sir,” Vikas responded, “I do not mean disrespect, but who here in Tennessee would sell a person such as I a weapon. No, no one here has a rifle or pistol except probable some who bought illegal. The men of the town, they will come at night, kill the men and children and rape the women before killing them. They will come as surely as we sit here speaking of it.”
I’d heard enough and more. Time was passing and I had no reason to doubt what Vikas said. Mainly I wanted to be gone, to be elsewhere when the killers came, as they would, without doubt.
I finished the last of my tea and said, “Vikas, we can’t do anything about them coming, but if you hurry and pack what you need, we will take you and your family with us.”
That caught John by surprise. “We will?”
Bella said, “What else can we do?”
“What about all the rest of the Indians here.”
Bella was insistent. “We can’t help the entire community, but we cannot turn our backs where we are involved. I agree with Tempest, you should pack.”
“But we will still be in Tennessee,” Preeja said.
John had gathered his wits. “It may only delay the inevitable, lord knows there are those in Sweetlips who would gladly kill you, but for the short term, we can hide you.”
Vikas made his decision. “Short term as you say, we will die here.” He turned to his wife. “Preeja, from heaven these people were sent. We will pack. The children will help.”
Preeja was shivering and I knew it wasn’t from cold. When she spoke, her voice shivered as well. “Where do we start?”
I said, “I’d suggest the kitchen. Gather your utensils and any food that won’t spoil for lack of a refrigerator. Then bag up your everyday clothing. You probably have papers you want to keep. You’ll need blankets, but forget mattresses because there isn’t room for them in the truck. Keep in mind that the children will ride in front of the truck, but we’ll be in the back. Dress warm.”
John added, “Please hurry.”
They hurried, actually moved mostly on the run. I helped, b
ut dissuaded John and Bella from pitching in. They both looked exhausted. With me carrying loads to put in the bed of the truck, it was less than an hour later that we drove from their home.
We’d driven perhaps four blocks when three men, their black hair and dark complexions marking them as Indian, stepped from the curb to block the truck. As I shouted not to stop, John was already braking.
Vikas was wrong about one thing; at least one Indian in his neighborhood had a pistol with his arm raised pointing it at John.
Like me, Vikas was standing as we rode, leaning over the cab. He shouted in his language and the man shouted back.
What’s going on?” I asked. Though I already knew, I added, “What do they want?”
Vikas responded, “That is Sachin. I asked him to move away, allow us to pass, but he wants the truck.”
“Do you think he will shoot if we keep driving?”
“Yes, Sachin will shoot.”
“They’re not getting the truck.” Sachin had not seen the rifle held against my thigh. I raised it, my trigger finger found its place and I shot him in his chest. The impact caused him to twist away, but not fall. Above the screams of Preeja and her children and screams from a nearby house, I shouted, “Drop the weapon or I’ll shoot again.”
He didn’t drop the pistol; instead, he fell to the ground and didn’t move. The other two men ran to a house and went inside.
I slapped the top of the cab. “Drive, John.”
If I was driving, I would’ve run over the man I shot, but John reversed and then drove around him. At least he did pick up speed afterward.
I leaned over the edge of the cab and tapped his window. When he rolled it down, I shouted, “Don’t stop again. All they want is the truck.
We made it back to the Causley home without another incident. The only moving vehicle we encountered was a tractor pulling a car with a chain. As we passed him, I saw the driver had a shotgun across his lap.
Tempest of Tennessee (Episode 1): Tempest of Tennessee Page 6