Surviving Home

by A. American

  While we were talking, Reggie came down the drive, “What’s up, guys?”

  “Hey, Reg, we’re thinking of using the cane for something,” I said.

  “What?”

  Between Jeff and I we explained what we were thinking of doing. Jeff offered a pretty fair idea of the design of the gabions, how we would need to split some of cane to weave in around the whole stalks. In the sand I drew a rough sketch of how we could set them up to improve the log barricade. When I finished my chicken scratch in the dirt, I stood up and waited to see what Reggie thought. He was standing thinking, reaching up and rubbing the stubble on his chin. I looked at his hand as he scuffed the beard on his face.

  “Instead of using this cane, why don’t we use some field wire? It’d be a lot easier to make ’em out of, find something to line ’em with to keep the dirt in,” he finally said.

  “That’s a great idea, but where are we going to get the fence, start taking it down?” Thad said.

  “I’ve got ten rolls of it.” Reggie replied.

  “What? Where’d you get all that?” I asked.

  “I got it at an auction months ago. I was going to replace a bunch of the fence here and split fence the pigpen back there.” Reggie jutted a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the pasture.

  “Reg, you have pigs?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I moved ’em into the barn to keep ’em out of sight. They’s seven sows and one boar in there. I’m waitin’ for them sows to drop their litters, I know a couple of ’em are almost ready.”

  “Holy shit, that’s a lot of bacon,” Jeff said.

  “That could sure help out some folks, if you’re willing,” I said.

  Reggie looked at me with a slight squint. “Morgan, I ain’t going to just give the meat away. There’s a shit pile of people here who ain’t lifted a finger to do a damn thing around here. Hell, most of ’em are just sittin’ in their houses starving to death instead of doing anything about it.” He paused for a moment. “But those folks who are working to keep things going are more than welcome to it.”

  “I think you know where I stand on that particular issue, Reggie,” I said.

  “How many people are back in here?” Thad asked.

  “No one’s ever done a count, but we guessed there are probably over a hundred, or there were, anyway,” I answered.

  “With that many bodies you guys should be able to get all kinds of stuff done around here if everyone was working together,” Thad offered.

  Reggie looked over at the big man. “That’s just it: no one has really tried to organize a real effort to do anything.”

  “Who’s in charge around here?” Jeff asked.

  Reggie and I looked at one another. “I guess Mark kinda is,” I said.

  I had been thinking about the baskets and what to line them with while we were talking, and had an idea. “What if we used some tar paper to line the baskets with?”

  Reggie said, “I have a few rolls of that too; that would work real good.”

  Jeff said, “That’s perfect.”

  I said, “I have a few rolls too. I did half the roof earlier this year and had bought enough paper to do the whole thing, so I have a bunch.”

  “Well, then it sounds like we got a plan. Let’s get to work. Morgan, back your truck up to the shop there and we’ll load as many rolls into the back as we can. It’d be better to make these at your place since it’s closer to the end of the road.”

  In the morning we met back at Reggie’s and I backed in as Thad and Jeff followed Reggie up the drive. Reggie opened the big doors on the front of the shop and I was able to back the ass end up into it. They were already rolling the wire out when I got out. I went to the back of the truck, stood a roll up, leaned it over the back and hefted it up into the cargo area. Reggie came up and helped me muscle it in.

  “Hey, Reg, what happened to your knuckles, man?” I asked, nodding at his hands on the roll of wire.

  He just looked at me, then at his hands. He stood there in thought for a moment and said, “Follow me.”

  I followed him out a back door of the shop as Thad and Jeff moved another roll of wire past us. Reggie went to the barn and opened a padlock on a small door. He hung the lock on the hasp and turned to me. “Before you say anything, hear me out.” He opened the door and stepped into what at one time was a tack room of sorts.

  The early morning sunlight cut through the open door lighting up a rectangle on the floor. It took my eyes a second to adjust to the dimness of the small space. What I saw caught me off guard; in the center of the room was a man tied to a chair, a rag of some sort over his eyes. An old wool blanket was draped loosely over his shoulders. He had a flannel shirt on over a bloodstained T-shirt. He was unconscious and what I could see of his face told me why.

  “Uh, Reg, who the fuck is that?”

  “Remember we found that ID in Randal’s room?”

  “Yeah, but—” He cut me off.

  “This here is the one who helped Randal. They killed them girls. They raped, tortured and brutalized ’em.”

  I looked at the figure in the chair, then back at Reggie. “You sure about that?”

  Reggie nodded. “I’ve even got the names of the other girls. He knew where they were dumped too. Remember the tire tracks that Mark drew a picture of?” I nodded and he said, “I didn’t need a damn picture of ’em. They were Super Swampers.” He waved for me to follow him.

  I followed him as he headed for the back of his property line, following a very obvious set of tire tracks. At the edge of his property under an old green canvas tarp was a red Nissan pickup sitting on a set of Super Swampers. Reggie pulled the tarp back over the bed and stood there looking into it.

  “This is the last place she was. She was probably alive in here before they did what they did to her.”

  “Reggie, you positive about this?” He nodded. I said, “How’d you get the truck back here? No one saw it.”

  He told me that he and Luis had been at the barricade when the kid came by looking for Randal. Reggie didn’t like the look of him the moment he pulled up and started to talk to the kid. From the conversation they had, he knew the kid was involved with what happened. I asked how he got him to his house, and he said he had caught the kid off guard with an uppercut to the chin. He loaded the kid up and took him home on his four-wheeler, then went back for the truck, driving it around through the woods to the spot at the back of his property.

  “What about Luis?” I said.

  “He knew my niece some. He won’t say nothin’.”

  Reggie pulled the tarp back over the truck and we headed for the shop. When we got to the barn, Thad and Jeff were standing there looking in the open door.

  “What’s this, Morgan?” Thad asked.

  I looked at Reggie. “You tell him.”

  Reggie gave the CliffsNotes version of what led up to the kid being tied to the chair. While he relayed the story, Thad kept his eyes on the kid in the chair.

  “I guess this is who they were looking for, huh?” Thad said once Reggie finished.

  Reggie looked over at me with a question on his face and I told him about the encounter at the barricade the night before. Thad looked at Reggie and me and said, “If he did it, then he needs to be dealt with. You can’t let anyone find him here.”

  “Is he still alive?” Jeff asked and Reggie nodded.

  “I guess we can bury him,” Reggie said.

  Thad looked past Reggie and said, “Them hogs in the barn here?”

  Reggie looked a little confused. “Yeah, in there.” He jutted his chin toward the end of the barn.

  Thad said, “Morgan, we got five rolls into the back of the truck. Why don’t you and Jeff head to your place and start on the baskets.”

  “Gabions,” Jeff said.

  “Gabions,” Thad corrected him
self.

  “What are you guys going to do?” I asked.

  Thad said, “Morgan, from what you have told me about things around here, you don’t need any more shit on your head. I’ll help Reggie do what needs done an’ we’ll come down in a little while.”

  The way Thad spoke surprised me, he had changed, and I didn’t have to guess why. I looked at Jeff and jerked my head toward the shop. He followed me to the truck.

  Chapter 27

  Sarge looked out the open door of the Black Hawk at the Apache off the starboard side. He leaned back into the web seat with a smile on his face and closed his eyes. When he had retired from the army he thought he would never sit in one of these vibrating monsters again, but here he was. This was what he had missed, what he had tried to find out there on the airwaves of the world, the camaraderie of brothers in arms. He opened his eyes and looked around at the faces of the men with him, men who had chosen to fight the good fight.

  Captain Lewis met his eyes and a smile cracked his face. His eyes shifted and Sarge followed them out the open door; they were crossing the fence line of Camp Riley. Smoke rose from several places around the base. Farther off in the distance they could see the air base, and there was smoke there as well. Sarge looked back to the captain and pressed the PTT button on his intercom. “Looks like they put up a fight.”

  Captain Lewis replied while still looking out the door. “Still are. We’re mopping up right now, look out there.”

  Sarge followed his outstretched arm to a small runway. On the apron in front of a hangar were dozens of men sitting on the asphalt. They were on their knees with their hands on their heads and their ankles crossed. Standing around them were several other men. A loose ring of camo uniforms contained a fidgeting mass of black ones. Sarge could see a couple of camo uniforms walking amongst the captives, probably looking for the ones they wanted to interrogate.

  “What are you going to do with all of ’em?”

  Captain Lewis said, “I don’t know what the plan is, but I think there’s plenty to keep ’em busy.” He finished with a smile.

  “Look at all them jackbooted thugs,” Mike said looking out the door.

  The Black Hawk was descending toward the runway and the Apache banked away and flew across the base. As the helo approached the deck, a ground handler came out holding two small orange wands and began to give hand signals to the pilots. He was wearing the regulation earmuffs and goggles. Ted saw this and thought, Even under the current circumstances the army is still the army. The wheels touched the deck and took the load of the big bird. The pilots started to shut down the power plant as the ground man gave them the signal to kill power. Captain Lewis and his men bounded out of the ship with Mike, Ted and Doc in tow. Sarge levered himself out of the web seat and went to the door, looking out at the activity.

  Here he was, over fifty and about to get back in the army. A grin cut his old face and he shook his head. Reaching out to brace himself on the door, he took a deep breath, and First Sergeant Linus Mitchell stepped out onto the asphalt of Camp Riley.

  • • •

  “What are they going to do to him?” Jeff asked as I turned the Suburban off Reggie’s road.

  “Not sure, but I could guess,” I replied. “Look, you know I’m gonna need you to keep this a secret, right?”

  Jeff said, “Hey, man, what you’ve done for me, I got no problem keeping my mouth shut.”

  “I get that, but I don’t mean it’s an obligation ’cause I helped you out. I need you to trust me. This neighborhood’s seen some bad shit, and truth is, the guy who’s supposed to be in charge is refusing to deal with it.”

  “You mean Mark.”

  “Yeah. He’s not a bad guy, but he’s not making the adjustment, you know? That guy’s a murderer and a rapist. We’re not gonna let him run around loose while Mark figures out how to have a trial or something.”

  “I get it, man. You got three girls.”

  “Yeah. That’s it exactly. I’m not some vigilante, Jeff. It’s just—”

  “I get it, Morg. I get it. You can count on me.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  I was heading toward Danny’s house; we were going to need his help with this. At Danny’s, Jeff hopped out and opened the gate and closed it after I pulled through. Danny was in his shop working on a tiller when we pulled up.

  “Yo,” he called out as he walked up.

  “Hey, man, what’s up?” I said.

  “Not much, just tuning up the tiller. I’m going to try and till the garden and build a greenhouse over part of it. Hey, Jeff, how’s it going?”

  “SOS, man, SOS,” Jeff said.

  I told him what we had in mind and asked if he could come help, and he agreed it was a good idea. I asked if he had any tar paper, and he said he had three or four rolls lying around. We went into the little tin building where he kept the tractor and lawn tools. In one corner was a pallet with a few bundles of shingles and three full rolls and one partial roll of paper. We loaded the paper up into the Suburban while he went in to tell Bobbie he was coming down to help. I pulled the truck up to the walkway and waited for him. He emerged from the house with Bobbie in tow and they climbed into the back seat.

  “You coming to help too?” I asked Bobbie as she climbed in.

  “I’m coming down to help Mel supervise,” she replied with a smile.

  “Oh, that’ll certainly help,” I said with a laugh.

  “No shit,” Danny added, and Jeff laughed as we headed for the gate.

  I drove the truck around the back of the house to be closer to the shop, and as soon as I stopped Mel was coming out the back door with the girls in tow. When the girls saw Danny and Bobbie they ran up to them. Mel came up to me while the girls were giving their hugs and said, “You need to go over to Don’s house. His wife came over earlier looking for you.”

  “Is everything all right?”

  “I don’t know. She wouldn’t really say, just that you needed to come over. What’s her name? I can’t remember it.”

  I thought for a moment but couldn’t remember her name. “I can’t remember either. Guess I’ll go over and see what’s up.”

  Jeff asked if I needed him to come and I told him no. He said he was going to dig my rolls of tar paper out and load them in the back with the others. He said the same thing I was already thinking: that it would be better to build the gabions out at the barricade so we didn’t have to try to move them. Jeff and Danny went out to the woodshed where I told him the rolls were and I hopped the fence that separated Howard’s and my yards. His wife saw me coming and had the door open as I came up.

  “Hello, Morgan,” she said.

  “Hi, is everything all right?”

  “Oh yes, come in, come in,” she held the door, ushering me inside.

  I found Howard in a bedroom he used for an office. His radio was set up in there and he was sitting in front of it with his leg propped up. I walked in and sat in a chair beside him. He smiled and said, “Hey, Morgan.”

  “What’s up, Howard?”

  “I thought you’d like to hear what’s going on.”

  “What’ve you heard?”

  “It isn’t so much what I have heard as what I haven’t.” He paused, looking over the top of his glasses at me. “I haven’t heard anything from the feds at all, but there is a lot of talk out there about what they’re doing.”

  “Well, what’s Uncle Sugar up to?”

  “From what I’ve heard, they’re moving people, lots of people—no one seems to know where or why, but that’s what they’re doing. The most interesting thing was a guy in up near Fort Bragg talking about a big firefight going on at the base.”

  Skeptical, I asked, “What, they fighting each other?”

  “Don’t know. All I know is what I heard.”

  Taking my hat off, I rubbed my hand through
my hair. “You said they were moving people, know anything else on that?”

  “I heard some nut job saying something about an executive order that gave the postmaster general the right to go out and round people up or some shit. I think he was batshit crazy, but he sure ran off at the mouth about it. Could you imagine the mailman showing up and telling you you had to leave? What would he do, whack you with a magazine if you didn’t?” He laughed.

  “I don’t know, right now about anything is possible, I guess. How’s the leg?”

  Howard’s face soured and he lifted the stump off the little stool it was resting on. “Okay, I guess.”

  The gauze was soaked with blood and fluid. I said, “Let me see it, Howard.”

  “You don’t need to fool with it, I’m all right.”

  “When was the last time you changed the dressing?” I asked as I knelt down to inspect the leg.

  “Been a day or two, I reckon.”

  As I got close to the leg, a faint putrid smell found its way to my nose. I said, “Dammit, Howard, you have to change it every day. The doc did a pretty good job, but if you fuck around and let it get infected, there isn’t shit we can do about it. Where’s the dressings and stuff the doc gave you?”

  Howard fidgeted in his seat, but I gave a look that told him I wasn’t going to let the issue die.

  “Phyllis, can you bring them bandages in here?” he called out through the open door.

  In a moment, she came in the room carrying the box the doc had given us. “Here it is.”

  “You guys need to change this every day; it’s really important,” I said.

  “Oh, I know, Morgan, it’s just there isn’t much in here. If we change it every day, we’ll run out pretty quick. We thought we could go a few days in between.”

  “Don’t worry about running out. You can take the old gauze and boil it and reuse it. As for the bandages, I have some, and there are other things we can use too. Cut up an old sheet and boil it and use that. Hell, we can use maxi pads too.”

  “Maxi pads!” Howard shouted.