“I think we’re all starving,” Jessica agreed. “I’m almost ready to start eating leaves and bark, just to get something in my stomach so it won’t hurt as much. The coffee didn’t help; I think it made me even more hungry.”
As if in answer to her comments, they rounded a corner to see an old building with Mountain Junction General Store painted above the door. To the right was a small café. Jensen stopped and scanned the area.
“What are you doing” Daniel asked.
Still gazing at the small building and the field behind it, Jensen answered, “Just scoping it out before we go in. I don’t like surprises.”
He waited for a full ten minutes before proceeding, watching the windows for any shifts in light to indicate movement. There was no traffic on the road and no cars near the store, but that didn’t mean it was safe. There was also no way of knowing if there was anything left in the store. The rain had petered out, but they still had clouds above them for now.
“You guys wait here for a minute. I’m going to go in for a closer look.” Jensen readjusted his armored vest and handed the Accuracy International rifle to Daniel. “I’ll signal you when it’s clear.” The former Cavalry officer slipped into the grass well away from the building and arced around to the back before disappearing.
It was about three minutes, but felt like much longer, before he reappeared at the front door and waved them forward. His Ruger was still holstered, but he had something in his hand. As they got nearer, Jensen tossed a small glass jar toward Daniel. “There’s your huckleberry.”
Daniel looked down at the small jar, which barely filled half of one hand. “$12.99? For this? It’s like a tablespoon. Ok, not a tablespoon, but not much. Maybe a pint. Does that sound right?” He scanned the label. “Huckleberry jam! It looks like a blueberry on the label.” Then he looked up, eyes wide. “Wait, you HAVE seen it!”
Jensen nodded. “Oh, I’ve seen it. Great film. I just didn’t want you to get going on movie quotes again. I barely survived when you were doing The Princess Bride quotes.”
Daniel looked stunned. “Inconceivable!”
Jensen shot him a warning look. “Don’t start. Let’s get some food and get out of here.” He tipped his head toward the building behind him. “There’s not much left, but there’s some stuff still there.”
As the others went inside, Jensen stayed at the door to watch for any overly curious locals. So far, most of his run-ins with the mountain folk had been unfriendly. Here he was stealing food. He expected to have some issues if anyone witnessed them inside the store.
Behind him, he could hear scrapes and clatters as the other three grabbed what they could find on the almost bare shelves. Jensen had already checked out the back storeroom, but it looked like someone had already cleared out everything of value. Stuff still in boxes was probably easier to grab and transport.
He patted his thigh pocket with one hand. Inside was a Snickers bar he’d found on the floor under the edge of the counter. Someone must have kicked it under when they were emptying out the candy racks from near the register. Their loss, his gain.
Jensen stepped back and closed the front door. He wanted to go out the back through the storeroom, the way they had come in. They were heading north along the road anyway. As he entered, he saw Daniel with a jar raised to his mouth. A jar of honey. “Dude, you look like the happiest bear in the world right now. The happiest cuddle bear anyway.”
Without putting down the jar or looking, Daniel raised one big finger and flipped Jensen off.
“Okay, but I think you’re going to get sick from all that sugar on an empty stomach. Honey and coffee. Oh shit, you’re going to be super hyper, aren’t you?”
With the jar still raised, Daniel nodded. To the left and right, Jessica and Marcy were eating various preserved jams out of glass bottles while looking for solid food.
“Guys, we need to get going. Just grab what you can and let’s get out of here before uncle-daddy Billy Bob comes in here with a shotgun.”
Daniel dropped the jar for that one but it took a few swallows to clear out the honey before he could talk again. “Good one! Because they’re brother and sister. I like it.”
Jensen just stared. “You like incest?”
Daniel acted as if he were going to throw the almost empty jar. “No, I like the joke. Asshole.” He finished off the jar of honey. “But you’re right, I don’t want to be here when uncle-daddy Billy Bob shows up. I’m too pretty.”
Marcy cleared her throat loudly and he looked over at her. “I’m just pretty, you’re beautiful. There’s a difference.”
That provoked a smile as she gathered up a jar of spaghetti sauce and turned toward the door. “It’s not much, but at least we won’t starve today. Probably tomorrow, but not today.” She called to Daniel as she passed, “And yes, you ARE pretty.”
Jensen looked around quickly and picked up a bottle of something called Scuppernong Preserves. He wasn’t sure if it was a brand name or the type. The label wasn’t really indicative of what was inside either. It was just an artsy label with Heaven’s Hearth Traditional Preserves written on the label about Scuppernong Preserves. He wanted to chew something though, like a nice steak. Even beef jerky would be fine. Instead, he had mystery jelly.
He took the bottle and headed toward the door, stopping to grab his rifle from where it was propped up next to Daniel. As he reached the storeroom, he looked worriedly toward the sky. In the few minutes they’d been inside, he could already see small patches of blue sky forming. That was bad. Clear skies meant prying eyes.
They had no way of knowing whether or not the Senator knew they were still alive, but if someone was watching, he wanted to be far away. Like Montana. Or Wisconsin. Did anyone live in Wisconsin other than the Packers? Did they live there or just commute in? Damn it, he’d been hanging out with Daniel too long.
Jensen looked around one last time before stepping outside. Everything seemed quiet. It was nice to catch a break now and then. First the deserted house, then food when they really needed it. All without gunfire. It was a nice change.
He half expected to pay for that thought as they started across the field toward the road, but nobody shot at them. Nobody even seemed to know they were there. His stomach gurgled unhappily as they made it to the road. Unlike the others, he still hadn’t gotten anything in his gut.
They walked for a couple miles before Jensen called a halt. Ahead was a small bridge next to a road sign for Happy Hill Road. It seemed like as good a place to stop as any. Below was running water, and the road itself would provide cover from any sort of aerial view. As they descended the bank, Jensen clutched the small jar in his hand.
Once under the bridge, he set the rifle down and twisted it open. First, the smell. It wasn’t good. The preserves smelled like musky burnt plastic. It made his eyes water. Jensen tentatively dipped a finger into the jar and tasted it. He almost gagged when it touched his tongue. There wasn’t enough sugar in the world to make that good.
Daniel watched with enjoyment. “That bad, huh?”
Jensen held up the jar to look at the label. “What the fuck is this shit? It tastes like boiled ass. Who would eat this?”
Daniel couldn’t resist. He reached for the jar and took a taste for himself before spitting it out into the stream. “Dude. That stuff should be against the Geneva Conventions. Why would people eat it?”
Jensen sighed and reached for the candy bar in his pocket. He had intended to give it to Jessica, but his hunger was too great. “Jess, I’m sorry. I was planning to give this to you,” he said as he removed the small chocolate bar from his pocket. “But I can’t eat that shit.”
Jess laughed. “I appreciate the sentiment, but are you trying to kill me?”
Jensen looked puzzled.
“I’m allergic to peanuts. If I ate that my throat would probably swell shut.”
Daniel leaned over his shoulder. “I’m not allergic to peanuts. I’ll trade you for some Huckleberry Jam?”
Jensen pulled away. “Nope, my Snickers.” He slowly unwrapped it and took a huge bite, chewing the sugary snack slowly. “Oh man, this is so good,” he mumbled through the chocolate, caramel, and peanuts.
Daniel stuck out his lower lip. “Not cool man. I know where you sleep. I’ve killed before.”
Jensen snorted. “Dude, you drank a jar of honey. An entire jar of honey. I think you’ve already had enough sugar for the entire year. Just let me eat this before we continue on our journey down the mystery road in the Georgia mountains.”
Daniel shook his head. “We’re in North Carolina now. That store had a North Carolina address and we’ve been traveling mostly north.”
Jensen paused. “How do you know that? I haven’t seen the sun all day.”
Daniel shrugged. “I worked with maps. A lot. The sign that said, ‘Welcome to Macon County’ must have been right on the border, so we’re a couple miles in now.”
Jensen looked around. “Huh. I don’t think I’ve ever been to North Carolina before. It’s pretty. Then again, so was northern Georgia.”
Daniel was in the stream trying to wash some of the sticky honey off his face and hands. “Borders usually don’t make much sense. They’re political, not rational. The only time borders ever make sense are along natural bodies of water, like rivers or the ocean. Every other boundary is just politicians waving their junk around and slapping each other with it.”
Marcy snorted. “How very imaginative. It makes sense though. Not the mushroom stamps, but the political boundaries.”
Daniel looked at her with his mouth hanging open. “You know about mushroom stamps?”
She giggled a little bit. “I’m familiar with the term.”
He just stood there. “I’m in awe. I really don’t have anything else to say. Let me bask in the light of your glory.” He held up the jar of jelly. “Let us share this huckleberry as a symbol of my devotion to you.”
They set up camp for the night before they started northward again.
Chapter 33
Brent was satisfied with his work. It wasn’t perfect, but it was good. Rebecca Phillips, Beloved Wife and Mother. 1981-2032. The words seemed so final, but right. It felt right. Brent returned the tools to the garage and placed them where they belonged. The grave was weed-free and now had a marker which would hopefully last for many years.
Now he had to prepare himself. He needed to get clean and dressed. Brent had taken most of his clothing and toiletries when he’d left with Jack to escape the fires, but he hadn’t touched Rebecca’s things. He found a disposable razor still in the package and some soap with which to lather his ever-growing beard.
Before he dug in with the razor, he used a pair of her quilting scissors to cut off as much growth as he could, then he tried to trim the sides of his head a little bit. He hated having hair over his ears. He took his time. The sense of urgency he’d had that morning had faded. The aging construction worker had little to do now but prepare for death.
He used a small mirror to try to see the back of his head and cut that down some, too. When he was finished, his hair looked better, but certainly wasn’t the same as if he’d gone downtown to the barber shop and had it done by Tom. Tom was dead now, yet another friend gone.
Brent hated shaving with cold water, but it was all he had from the tank of the toilet and what he had drained from the water heater. Cold water was better than no water, he’d just have to let the hair soak for a while and really lather up. As he started to wet his remaining beard, he decided to just clean himself entirely.
He shrugged off his shirt and let his pants drop to the floor before peeling off his socks and underwear. They were wrecked. It didn’t matter; he wasn’t going to wear them again. His clothing had seen better days. Then again, so had he.
He was skinny. He looked at himself as the sun poured through the window. His face looked different; his body looked different. Younger, somehow. He could pick out most of his ribs under the skin and spent several minutes staring at the pink flesh where he’d been shot. Somehow, with his friends’ help, he’d healed from what should have been a fatal wound.
With the sun shining on his now slender frame, he rooted around under the sink for a washcloth and dipped it into the water. The feel of the water against his fingers made him thirsty. It was tempting. He licked his dry lips, but his mouth had gone dry, too. Maybe he could find some lip balm somewhere. Rebecca had always kept some of the stuff in the little yellow tube around. It had a name with bees in it, but he wasn’t sure what the stuff was called. It tasted a little bit like peppermint.
The temptation of the water was strong, but it would mean starting over. If he gave in now, he would give in again. He had to do this the first time. Brent grabbed a bar of soap and swished it around in the water. He wasn’t going to drink it. He was just going to clean himself. It had been almost two days since he last had water. Hopefully it would only be another day or so.
He slowly scrubbed and cleaned his body with the washcloth, soap, and water. He felt different. Maybe it was because he was dehydrated, but his body felt unfamiliar to his hands. Maybe he was different, or maybe his brain was struggling without the fluid it needed to operate properly. He was definitely thinner. Almost like he was in his twenties again with an unstoppable metabolism.
Brent took his time getting clean. He wetted his beard several times in the process to soften it in preparation for shaving. Sure, he had been shot, but shaving with cold water sucked. He wasn’t looking forward to the process. Finally, he finished and dried himself off before attacking his beard with the little plastic shaver.
It seemed like it was huge compared to his razor. It was far more comfortable, as though the wide shelves on both sides of the blades kept it from irritating his skin. No wonder the damned things were so expensive; they were better. He guessed if you had to shave a significant percentage of your skin and not just your face, you’d demand something better. How had he not realized this earlier in life? His final shave was probably the best. With a disposable razor. Who knew?
After he dried his face, he wandered to the bedroom he and Rebecca had once shared. He tried to analyze his body to search for internal pains. His joints hurt, but his abdomen seemed fine. Would he feel it when his organs started to fail? Would he have any warning or would it be sudden? What would go first?
He knew what he was looking for. With his old/new skinny body, he could probably fit into one of his old suits. He kept a couple around for weddings, funerals, and certain church days. As the years progressed, he gradually swelled to the point he couldn’t wear them anymore, but he refused to let them go. One day he’d lose weight. Well, that day had arrived.
The suits were hung in garment bags in the far back of the closet. For years, they’d taken up room and been useless. He’d just had a hard time getting rid of such expensive clothing. The black suit was in the middle of the three. That was the one he wanted. The charcoal suit was his favorite, but it didn’t really fit the occasion. No, it needed to be the black one.
He carried the suit to the bed and laid it down on the sheets. The comforter was in the backyard and he hadn’t slept in the bed since Rebecca died. There was no reason to make it up anymore. Brent pulled out the jacket, pants, white shirt, and black tie. He would need to find socks and underwear, maybe an undershirt of some sort, but he could do that.
It wasn’t yet time to put the suit on. He’d wait until he knew, but he wanted to make sure it would fit. The pants were the deal breaker. The jacket would work. It might even be a little big, but he needed to be able to fit into the pants. He slowly slid them on, enjoying the feel of the soft fabric against his skin. Why did he always wear jeans or carpenter pants? These were far more comfortable.
As he drew the slacks around his waist, he was surprised to find they were loose. He hadn’t been able to wear that suit in forever, but now it was too large. No matter, he would have a belt around somewhere. He pulled the white shirt on and buttoned the
top button. If it fit around his neck, the rest would fit. He had room for two fingers between his neck and his collar. How much weight had he lost?
Satisfied, Brent zipped the clothing back into the garment bag and pulled on some athletic shorts. He hadn’t taken everything when they left. He’d been in such a hurry to get Jack away from the smoke—and trying to manage the group at the same time had left him with little time to focus on himself. Now, all he had to focus on was himself.
He had abandoned Jensen, Jessica, Daniel, and Marcy. Left with barely a goodbye. His shame had driven him home as much as his longing to be with his wife. He felt guilty. They would be fine without him, but he still felt guilty leaving them.
With this thought in his mind, he dragged his recliner out into the backyard. He would wait in comfort, near his wife. In the meantime, he had to find some clothes to wear under his suit.
Chapter 34
Jim took another look. There were only four of them, not five, but he thought it was them. He brought up the recording from the day Doug died and found the targets. Yeah, two of them could be women. It wasn’t completely clear, but it appeared that two of them had longer hair. The two women on his screen now did. The big guy and the guy in the Army armored vest were definitely the same. He wasn’t sure about the big guy, maybe Arabic? Black? It was tough to tell. He wasn’t white, but he was huge. Up in the mountains, there probably weren’t many giant non-white guys.
It wasn’t definitive, but it was enough. The fifth person was missing. There had definitely been five people in the stream that night. Jim picked up the phone. “Hi Darlene, this is Jim, the UAV pilot. I need to speak to the Senator. I think I’ve found his group.”
“Jim, you said? Is he expecting your call?” Darlene sounded puzzled. “He’s on a call with the Governor of Tennessee right now. It’s very important.”
Jim was tempted to let it go. He’d tried. It would give them a little more time to get away, but it would probably result in his death. “Darlene, I’m the guy who you got the helicopter for. This is important to the Senator, please let him know I’m on the line.”
Tomorrow's Dawn (Book 3): Escape and Evade Page 14