Desperate Times

by Nicholas Antinozzi

  “Maybe,” said Jimmy, not believing that for a second. “I’m going outside for a cigarette. I’ll try to think of something. She’s not going to make us leave—over my dead body.”

  “That’s exactly what Ken said,” Patty said with a sad smile. “One more thing, Jimmy. It’s about Paula and Julie.”

  Jimmy turned. Here it comes, he thought.

  “I can read you like a book, young man. And I know what you’re doing. I just wanted you to know that I approve. Don’t rush into a decision that you could regret for the rest of your life. There’s no hurry. They’re both such nice girls and they both love you. I was proud of you this morning. If you would’ve stayed with Paula, Julie would’ve been crushed. It’d all be over. You didn’t. You need some time to think things through. That’s smart of you. Ken told me what he said to you this morning. I nearly clocked him over his thick skull with a frying pan. Do you want my advice?”

  “Sure,” said Jimmy, wondering how Patty knew exactly how he felt.

  “Tell each of them that you need some time. They’ll pout, and Paula’s going to be pretty upset about that. You’ve got to stand up for yourself. Tell Paula that if she’d come along in the first place, this never would’ve happened. Deep down she knows that. She’s told me so herself. And, as far as Julie goes…”

  “What?”

  “No more smooches in the garage. That was wrong. No smooching until you’ve made your choice. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good. Now go out and have your cigarette. I really do wish you’d give them up. It’s such a nasty habit. You’ll probably be running out soon, anyhow. Right?”

  Jimmy shrugged his shoulders. Patty didn’t know that he had bought two cases of Camels with the money that Ken had given him. He didn’t think he should tell her about that. “Thanks, Patty,” he said. “At least somebody can see what I’m going through.”

  “Just don’t take too long, dear. You’re not the only one with eyes for those two.”

  “I won’t,” said Jimmy, walking out the door. “I promise.”

  Jimmy walked out the back door and into the hot sunshine. A warm breeze rustled the leaves in the trees, and a couple of white clouds hung lazily in the sky. He shook out a Camel and lit it up. Not knowing where he was heading, he walked down to the gate. He found that it was still open and that there was only one man standing guard. He was a big, beefy black man who looked to be just this side of sixty. He wore a button-up shirt that stretched tightly across his barrel chest. He nodded to Jimmy. His broad face was clean shaven and his short hair was just starting to gray at the temples. He carried a hunting rifle and a holstered sidearm. He watched the road with a hawk’s eye, turning his head every few seconds. Jimmy had never seen the man before and walked over to introduce himself.

  “Jimmy Logan,” he said, offering his hand to the burly man.

  “Burt Sharpen,” replied the man, taking Jimmy’s hand and giving it a firm shake.

  “Are you out here alone?” asked Jimmy, wondering how that could be.

  “I was, until just a little while ago,” replied Sharpen. “That fella you and the Doc showed up with is down at the corner. Nice kid. I was at the gate this morning. You probably didn’t see me.”

  “We were pretty tired,” said Jimmy, wondering how he could’ve missed the only African-American in the compound. I must’ve been really tired, he thought to himself.

  “Hey, can I bum a smoke from you? I haven’t had one in days.”

  “Sure,” said Jimmy, tossing him the freshly opened pack. “You can keep ‘em, I’ve got plenty.”

  Sharpen nodded gratefully. He dug out a lighter from his jeans and lit up a cigarette, blowing out the smoke slowly. “Ah, that’s better. Thanks, Jimmy Logan.”

  Jimmy studied the man. He had a presence about him; he stood tall and carried himself with authority. “So, Burt, do you mind if I call you that?”

  “That’s my name,” he said with a grin. His square jaw was dimpled and scarred.

  “Right,” said Jimmy. “Burt. How do you fit in with everyone here?”

  Burt drew on his cigarette and inhaled deeply. “That’s an interesting story. The short of it is that I don’t. I was alone on the road and just followed that bunch of lunatics here. They didn’t seem to mind. They’re a strange bunch; they really are. Anyhow, I was up fishing with a buddy who had a place just north of town. It’s gone now, all burnt up. He’s gone, too; took a bullet in the neck. Big Hank was his name. Best cop I ever knew.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Me, too. He was a good friend. We tried to stand and fight. There were too many of them. I told Hank that our only hope was to make a run for it. I thought he was right behind me. I should’ve known better. He tried standing them off by himself, and they shot him down on his front porch. I hid in the bushes. I watched what they did. I studied their faces and I’m going to make them pay for what they done to Hank. I owe him that much.”

  Jimmy nodded and was sure that Burt Sharpen meant every word of that. He could tell by looking into his hooded eyes that here was a man to be reckoned with.

  “So they stole whatever we had that was worth a dog’s fart, and then they shot the hell out of Hank’s pickup. After that, they put a match to the place and watched it—and Hank—burn. All I had was my service revolver and this rifle. Everything else was gone. After a while they left. They hopped on their motorcycles and tore outta there. Damn biker trash! Wait until I see them again.”

  “Biker trash?” said Jimmy. “What sort of biker trash?”

  “Some motorcycle shitheads that call themselves the Devils. Ever hear of them? They’re back there in Ely—at least they were.”

  “I’ve met them,” said Jimmy. “We had a run-in at the rest area outside of Duluth.”

  “And you’re still here to talk about it? This I’ve got to hear.”

  Jimmy told Burt the story about what had happened that evening, leaving nothing out except how afraid he had been. He told him that they’d lost Tom Bauer and Billy Campbell in the gunfight and that they, too, were good men. Jimmy even told Burt that he somehow felt responsible for their deaths.

  “Jimmy,” he said, “sometimes, there’s just nothing you can do. You’re damn lucky to be alive. Those are some serious assholes. I’ve busted a few over the years.”

  “Cop, huh?” asked Jimmy.

  “Retired… Minneapolis Homicide Detective. Hell of a way to start my retirement, huh?”

  “Well, I’m glad to meet you, sir,” Jimmy said, taking the big man’s hand and shaking it vigorously. “Have you had anything to eat? Can I get you anything?”

  “I’d kill to get my hands on a Coke and a Snickers bar,” said Burt. “I don’t suppose you have anything like that in there, do you? I had a sandwich for lunch.”

  Jimmy thought about that. Brenda had cleaned out all of the junk food inside the shed. There was nothing like that inside the house. Then he suddenly remembered the backpacks. He and Jon had left them in the woods that morning. “I’ll be right back,” said Jimmy. And he began to run down the road.

  Twenty -Five

  Watch for those ready to politicize our country’s financial woes. These people are planting misinformation and are not to be trusted, as both sides of the political spectrum are to blame for this looming crisis. The best we can do is to find a place to meet in the middle and to abandon those who refuse to move from either end of the lunatic fringe.

  They met down at the corner of the road two hundred yards from the gate. There were four of them—Ken, Jon, Jimmy, and Burt Sharpen. Everyone else seemed to be over at Sally’s listening to Sister Margaret’s mysterious sermon. Burt had eaten three of Jimmy’s candy bars and had slugged down two warm Cokes. Jimmy had given them to him gladly as he was a welcome addition to their group. Burt had introduced himself to Ken up at the gate. He then recounted his story, adding that he was a retired detective from Minneapolis. Ken asked if Burt wanted to join them
, and they decided to meet where they stood. That way they could watch for trouble in both directions.

  “That woman has turned into one huge pain in the ass,” began Ken with a growl. “Sister Margaret wants to take over. I’ve been listening to her over there. She sure knows how to work a crowd.”

  “So I’ve heard,” said Jimmy.

  “She doesn’t want anyone to go to Ely,” said Ken, dryly. “She says that would be stealing. She’s telling all of them that nonsense right now. Can you believe it? She says that God has provided plenty for them to eat in the lake and in the forest.”

  “You ever eat a pine tree?” asked Burt.

  “No, I haven’t,” said Jon.

  “Me, either,” said Jimmy. “Can you do that?”

  Ken smiled. “Sorry, boys,” he said, “that must’ve been before your time.”

  “Damn, I feel old,” said Burt.

  Ken continued. “She’s selling these people on the idea that God has been talking to her. That they’re the chosen ones and that the rapture is near. That it’s coming any day, any minute. They’re eating it up. I couldn’t believe my own ears. It’s like they’ve all lost their minds. Forget about adding to the wall. That’s not going to happen. I don’t think we’ll find any volunteers to go into town tonight either. Not the way she’s talking. They’re all scared to death, but for all the wrong reasons. That’s why they’re all putting their trust in her. She’s put the fear of God into them.”

  “That bitch,” said Jon. “What the hell are they going to live on? Roots and berries? Squirrels? Blue jays? That’s a laugh. We should just give them a couple of days. They’ll come around.”

  “I don’t think we have a couple of days,” said Ken. “I think she’s going to make her move soon, maybe even today. You should’ve heard her. You’d know exactly what I mean.”

  “So what can we do?” asked Jimmy. “Should we go back inside and lock the gate?”

  “We can’t do that,” said Ken. “There’s still a chance that some of our people over there are smart enough to see her for what she really is. Who knows? We can’t lock everyone out just because they’re over there listening to her.”

  “Is everyone there?” asked Jimmy. “I can’t believe that she got everyone to walk over there.”

  “She didn’t. Besides us and Patty, we have Julie and Ted on the porch. Upstairs, we’ve still got Paula and her family and Clark, or whatever his name is.”

  “Carl,” corrected Jon.

  “Right,” said Ken. “They’re still sleeping. Then we’ve got Rita and Cindy down in the basement. Rita’s teaching her how to paint. That’s it. The rest of our group is over there.”

  “Painting what?” asked Jimmy.

  “How the hell should I know?” snapped Ken. “What difference does it make? I think they’re painting sunsets or something. I don’t know. They’re sure using a lot of orange.”

  “Sunsets are beautiful,” said Jon.

  Ken gave Jon an odd look, shook his head and continued. “I don’t know. I say we still risk the trip into town. The longer we wait, the more dangerous it’ll be to go. What do you guys think?”

  “You’re right about that,” said Burt. “If the Guard made a sweep through town a few days ago, we might have a good chance of sneaking back in today. If we’re going to do this, we’d better do it now. I’m in.”

  “Me, too,” said Jimmy. “We could be back here in a couple of hours, three at the most. Let’s do it.”

  “A trip into town?” asked Jon. “I’ll have to change. These shoes don’t go with this hat. It’ll only take me a minute.”

  “Will you stop it?” asked Ken, rolling his eyes. “This is serious. Are you in?”

  “I was being serious.”

  Burt eyed Jon. “Okay,” he said to Ken. “It’s the three of us. You’ll have to stay back and keep an eye on things. Don’t get drawn into a confrontation with that woman. If push comes to shove, get out of there. Tie something around the branch of that tree, and that way we’ll know that you’re in the woods. If we see something there, we’ll come in and find you. Don’t wait by the road. Do you got that?”

  “Agreed,” said Ken. “I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  “Can three of us fit into the cab of that thing?” Burt asked Jimmy.

  “Sure,” said Jimmy. “It’ll be tight, but I’m sure we can squeeze in.”

  “Let’s get going then. We’re burning daylight.”

  “I’ll meet you at the truck. I won’t be a minute,” said Jon, who turned and sprinted for the house.

  Ken shook his head; his face was red.

  “You know he’s only doing that to pull your chain, Ken,” said Jimmy, smiling. “He’d stop if you’d quit letting it get to you.”

  “Gay, huh?” said Burt. “I knew it as soon as I seen him. Big deal; I’ve got a brother who’s gay. All that matters to me is how he performs in the field. Can this guy shoot?”

  “Oh, he can shoot all right,” said Ken.

  “That’s good enough for me.”

  “Speaking of that,” said Ken, “let’s get you guys some guns.”

  “Thanks,” said Burt, “but I’ve got my own.”

  “You might change your mind after you’ve seen these,” said Jimmy. “Trust me.”

  Twenty -Six

  Up until the Great Depression, major currencies were regulated by the gold standard. This meant that for every banknote printed, the country would have the gold to back it up. The United Kingdom was the first country to abolish the gold standard, and the rest of the world soon followed. As strange as it sounds, the countries that first abandoned the gold standard were the first to recover from the depression.

  Jimmy had been right; it’d been a very tight squeeze. He’d underestimated the size of their new friend and had overestimated the size of the cab. Jimmy drove. Jon held two of the M-16s between his legs which were jammed up against the gearshift. Burt rode on the far side, his M-16 standing next to the window. They had six magazines apiece which were stuffed under the bench seat. Uncomfortable as it was, it felt good to be moving in a vehicle again.

  The afternoon sun was poking in and out of the clouds that blemished the sky. There didn’t appear to be any risk of rain. Burt had his window cracked, and the breeze was just enough to cool the inside of the cab. They got onto the highway with the outside world looking totally at peace with itself, save for the fact that it appeared totally deserted. Jimmy fought with the gearshift, pushing Jon’s legs over, trying to find the right gears.

  “I wish Hank and I would’ve had a couple of these back at his place,” said Burt. “He’d still be alive. Damn those assholes. I really miss him.”

  “Do you think they’ll be in town?” Jimmy asked, steering the Mack around a tight corner.

  “The Devils? Nah, my guess is that they’re not too far away, though. We’re going to have to keep an eye out for them. They’re sneaky bastards.”

  “I think we should park the truck outside of town and go in on foot,” said Jon. “You know the place, Jimmy. We should climb that hill again and get a good look at town before we move in.”

  “Sounds good to me,” agreed Jimmy.

  “That’s a good idea. You guys lead the way. I’ll keep up,” said Burt.

  They drove in silence for a while, the humming of the tires and growling diesel droning along as they continued toward Ely. The Mack was eating up large chunks of the road they had walked the day before. Before long Jimmy was downshifting, trying to find the place where they’d gone into the woods.

  “Up ahead, Jimmy, on the right,” said Jon. “There’s a driveway. Pull in there.”

  Jimmy saw the place and nodded. He swung the truck wide and barely made it into the narrow driveway that had been cut into the woods. They bounced down the rutted road which was barely more than a path. A quarter mile inside, they came to a clearing where they found a smoldering pile of ashes and the two burnt-out skeletons of what had once been automobiles. Jimmy
turned the truck around and parked it on the lawn, well out of sight of anyone who might pass by on the road. Burt was first to step down from the cab. He walked over to where the cabin had once been. He suddenly stopped and returned to the truck.

  “Don’t go over there. It’s not a pretty sight,” he said.

  “I’ll take your word for it,” said Jimmy, smelling a foul odor in the air.

  “How many?” asked Jon.

  “Hard to tell. Five that I could see. Looks like a young family. Look there, in the sand,” Burt said, pointing to the unmistakable tracks of a dozen or more motorcycles. “They’ve been here.”

  “Why would they do this?” asked Jimmy. “What did they possibly have to gain?”

  Burt reached under the seat and began to pull out the loaded magazines. He handed six apiece to Jimmy and Jon who stowed them inside their backpacks and slung them over their shoulders. Burt had borrowed one of Ken’s old hunting jackets. The tan jacket was lightweight and fit snugly around his shoulders. He filled the four large pockets with the six remaining magazines. He then checked his rifle, sighting down the barrel.

  They began to hike out, staying close to the trees at the edge of the driveway. Jon led the way, followed by Jimmy. Burt brought up the rear. They paused at the highway and quickly crossed into the woods. They spread out inside the pine forest, moving slowly and silently toward the large rocks that signaled where their ascent would begin. They slung their rifles over their shoulders and climbed the same rock formations they had the day before. Burt did his best to keep up, pausing every now and then to catch his breath. They reached the top, and Jimmy checked his watch. It was just after three. Jon peered over the edge while Jimmy held out a hand to Burt, helping him up the final step to the top.

  “Thanks,” he said. “This getting old crap is for the birds. I hate it.”

  “Quiet,” whispered Jon. “There’s something going on down there.”