Conflicted Home (The Survivalist Book 9)

by A. American

  “I’d still like to know what they wanted that spent fuel for,” Doc said, “but I was happy to see they took care of you guys.”

  Sarge patted Doc on the back. “Yeah. Doc here wanted to go over and help you guys. Thought I was going to have to tie his ass up.” Sarge held his hand out to Arnold. “I’m glad to see you boys are alright and made it out of there. We were worried about you.”

  Arnold shook his hand, “We appreciate the fact someone knew we were there. We didn’t know what was going to happen and were really worried. When your fireworks show started, we knew it wouldn’t be long.”

  I’d stayed out of the way during their talk. Just listening. This was a time for fellow men at arms to talk. I didn’t need to be sticking my nose into it. I occupied myself with my coffee. Then, remembering Tony had given me some cigars, I took one out and ran it under my nose. The tobacco had a spicy aroma and I decided, what the hell. A cigar before the sun came up seemed like a good idea.

  After cutting the cigar, I rolled it between my thumb and forefinger while holding the lighter to it. Once it was warmed up, I puffed it to life. The tobacco was intense and aromatic. Maybe a bit heavy of a smoke for this early in the morning, but it was a new world we now lived in, and I enjoyed it nonetheless.

  I sipped my coffee and enjoyed the smoke while the conversation continued. I was eager to get on the road, but also knew I wouldn’t interrupt them. Once their conversation wrapped up, we’d leave, and fifteen minutes either direction wouldn’t much matter. Instead, I thought about our route home.

  It would take us through the very path I walked, or much of it anyway. As the smoke drifted up before my eyes, I thought back to the car on the side of the interstate. Seeing it only hours ago, something I never thought I would ever do, brought that day back to me vividly. I could remember walking up and looking over the rise and seeing nothing moving. I remembered sleeping in the car and waking to fogged-up windows in the cold.

  I remembered those kids walking down the side of the road, cold and shivering. The girl in nothing more than flip-flops and the kid in a t-shirt. His arms hugged tight to his side against the biting cold that morning. It was a surreal scene to remember, like something out of a Hollywood production. The cold, the heavy wet fog. The silence. Silence like I’d never experienced before. I could see how someone could go catatonic from the shock when you considered the noisy overload our senses were subjected to in our daily lives.

  I was brought back to the present by Sarge snapping his fingers in my face. “What the hell are you thinking about? I was talking to you and you acted as though you didn’t even hear me.”

  I shook it off. “Oh, yeah, I didn’t. Was just thinking about the day all this started. Seeing my car out on the side of the interstate just kind of brought it back.”

  Sarge nodded. “Would be kind of odd, seeing it after all that time. We need to get on the road now though.”

  I puffed the roll of tobacco, that was threatening to expire, back to life. “It was. It’s funny, you know. When I think back to that time and compare it to where we are today, it just doesn’t seem like we’ve gone all that far.”

  Sarge leaned back against the fuel tank of the truck and folded his arms over his chest. “Oh, we’ve gone a long way, Morgan. Mainly backwards. But we’ve gone a long way.”

  “Yeah. I guess you’re right. But at least we’re all still here.” I paused and looked at him. “Can you imagine how many starved to death, or were killed in any thousands of ways?”

  He stood up and patted my shoulder. “I can. But let’s not dwell on that. It’s time to get on the road, ole buddy.”

  As he turned to walk away, I said, “I’m ready to get back home.”

  Turning his head to the side, he said, “I put a couple of MREs in the front seat of your truck. We’ll eat on the road.”

  It was still dark when we rolled out the gates of the base. The roads were deserted and we were the only thing moving. It offered both comfort and concern. Comfort in that no one was out. Concern in that we were the only thing moving. But I was certain the presence of that Stryker would prevent any of the locals from even thinking of messing with us. It was the thought of encountering other armor I was worried about.

  We started out the way we had come, going through Tallahassee as the sun began to rise, the only indication being the black morphing into gray. I was still nursing the cigar along, intent on smoking it as far down as possible. Between it and the caffeine from the coffee, I was sporting a healthy buzz. Probably not the best idea considering I was dragging several thousand gallons of diesel around behind me.

  I watched the side of the interstate, waiting for the car to come into view again. It didn’t take long for it to begin to appear, a vague apparition that slowly took on its true form. I thought I’d have a hard time picking it out amongst all the other cars. But as soon as I saw it, I knew. I slowed the truck a bit to get a better look. The doors were open, and it was covered in dust and grime, impossible to see into the windows. But as it slowly passed, I could see in the open driver’s door for an instant. There was nothing to see. Other than a memory of a day long ago.

  A thin smile cut my lips as Sarge’s Hummer veered onto the same off-ramp I had walked down. When the litter-strewn parking lot of the truck-stop came into view, I saw the lowboy tractor sitting and wondered if the old boy ever made it back. The store had been abandoned for a long time, although it looked as if it’d had plenty of visitors. How many people had wandered into it to pick over the leavings of the countless folks before them?

  It was like watching a film of my past as we turned onto Perry Highway. It wasn’t long before I could see an intersection coming up that I couldn’t forget. As we passed the run-down store, I could still see the old men playing dominoes and the kids running around. There was no body lying there, not that I expected to see one. I’m sure someone loved Gold Dollar and came to collect him. That made me think about the entire ordeal. I killed a man and never heard another word about it. But then, he was only the first. There have been many others since. It was a disturbing thought.

  This trip was odd. Like Scrooge being guided by the ghosts through Christmas-Past, I too was touring memories from the beginning of our apocalypse. While things looked so much the same, they also looked different. The steady indifferent march of time and nature applied layer after layer of crap, crud and corrosion upon the memories until one day they would no longer resemble what they had been on that day. Vacant were the places, giving no indication of the people and the interactions between them. Some, life and death. Nothing would remain. Eventually, even their memories would be consumed by the steady progression of time.

  I was refilling my cup with cold coffee when we passed a store that was like every other one we’d passed. The parking lot was filled with windblown trash. But this one had a memory attached to it. The memory of an old pickup and a fat sow in the bed. That meant James and Edith’s place was coming up. It brought up several emotions at the same time.

  Happiness at the thought of the old couple. And sadness about what could have happened to them. I decided to find the answer to that question. Picking up my radio, I said, “I need a piss break. Let’s stop at this little house up here.”

  Sarge’s Hummer slowing to a stop told me he agreed. I left the truck idling in the road, afraid to shut it down in case it might not restart. An irrational sort of fear that took on a deeper meaning in today’s world. Taking my rifle, I got out and started towards the house.

  “Where you going?” Dalton asked. “You look like a man on a mission.”

  I nodded at the house. “I know the people that live here,” I replied. Dalton looked at the place, then back at me. I took another look and corrected myself, “that used to live here. I just want to check on them.”

  Dalton walked with me and asked, “You come through here on y
our walk home?”

  “Yeah. I stayed a couple days with them. They were really nice folks. Reminded me of my grandparents.”

  I stopped at the edge of the driveway and looked at Mandy’s house. Dalton was in tune and asked, “What happened over there?”

  “I stuck a hatchet in the top of a guy’s head on that porch.” Dalton didn’t reply, but started walking towards the house. I followed him around the little fence that separated the two houses.

  The yards were overgrown, the grass up to our knees. It was obvious no one had been here in a long time. We stopped at the edge of the porch where the blood stain was still quite visible. Though now it was just a large black stain that could have been caused by anything.

  I looked at the front door and said, “In the bedroom back there, I shot his partner in the face. He was trying to rape a young woman. She had two little kids they’d locked in a closet.”

  I stepped up onto the porch and paused at the open door and looked in. Closing my eyes briefly, I could hear the flick of the Zippo and smell the cigarette as it caught. The couch I’d slept on was still there. Though it looked much worse for wear now. The house was littered with the possessions of one’s life. All the things we accumulate during our time on this planet, scattered and, in many cases, broken.

  We walked through the house. Stepping over and around things that had been inspected and discarded as either useless or not worth the effort to whoever had come through here. I wondered how many people had been through the place since I left it. I didn’t go into the bedroom. But I stopped at the door and looked in. The room had a musty smell of mold that assaulted the nose. The wall was covered in black mold in the same pattern brains and blood had left. Dalton looked over my shoulder into the room. It was obvious to him what had happened. “Well played,” he said as he stepped back.

  We went outside and stepped through a hole in the fence. Someone had pushed it down instead of walking around it. The door to Edith and James’s house was open as well. Dirt, leaves and other detritus blown in by wind or carried in by both man and beast littered the once tidy entry. I pushed the door open fully, the hinges squeaking audibly as I did.

  The house was dark and dank. Unlike Mandy’s house with its numerous windows, there were few openings for natural light. I clicked on my flashlight and used it to guide my way into the house. Here too was more evidence of people, many people, having been through the house. I bypassed the living room and went straight to the kitchen. This was Edith’s space.

  The cabinet doors hung open or were broken off altogether. The oven door hung open slightly and something there caught my eye. A dish towel hung from the handle. I stepped over to it and touched it. It was stiff and rough. I thought for a moment about taking it. I could clearly see Edith swatting James with it. But I decided to leave it where it was, as a testament to the sweet old woman. Though no one would know it but me.

  I did a quick inspection of the rest of the house, relieved when I found no bodies. “I want to go out and see if James’s tractor is still here.” I said as I went out the backdoor.

  Here, the yard was like the front. Overgrown and weed-choked. I could see into the little shop behind the house and the tractor was not there. For some reason, it made me feel better. Thinking there was no way James would leave it behind and wherever it was, he must be as well. A naïve idea of course, but it made me feel better. I decided I would remember them as I knew them and not allow my mind to go to that dark place.

  “We better get back before that old geezer out there loses his shit,” Dalton said.

  I nodded, and we started back around the house. “I prefer to think they’re alright wherever they are.”

  Dalton stoically replied, “Better that way.”

  Sarge was holding court out on the road. Doc came towards us as we approached, asking, “Everything all right?”

  “Yeah. I just wanted to see if these folks were still here. I stayed here when I was walking home. They were really nice people.”

  Doc looked past us to the house and asked, “You want me to go and see if I can find anything?”

  I shook my head. “No. I’d prefer to think they moved on and not that they were left to rot in that house.”

  Doc stared at the house for a minute before replying. “They probably did move on.”

  I gripped Doc’s shoulder and nodded, “That’s what I thought too.”

  “You see everything you needed too?” Sarge asked. I nodded, and he added, “Good. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to get the hell out of this rain and on to the house.”

  I smiled, “I’m ready. You know, just this side of Perry is the rest area where I ran into Jess.”

  “Do you need to stop there and take a stroll down memory lane too?” Sarge asked.

  I laughed and replied, “We can go as long as your old-ass prostate can hold out.”

  “Get your ass in that truck,” Sarge snorted as he turned to go to the Hummer.

  Slipping the truck into gear, I pulled out behind the old man. We continued towards Perry and it wasn’t long before I saw the rest area. I thought it looked like shit back then, but damn. It was a real mess now. But there were no people. Seeing it again brought a smile to my face. I could see Jess standing there with that look of desperation. I could only imagine what would’ve happened to her had I not relented and let her go with me. Even if she was an annoying little shit at that point.

  The roadblock into Perry was still there, though it was no longer manned and appeared it hadn’t been for a very long time. We had to stop and wait for Mike to drive around us and push some of the cars out of the way with the Stryker. Something he did with way too much enthusiasm.

  “Knock that damn caterwauling off!” Sarge shouted into the radio.

  “Sorry, boss!” Mike called back. “But this is the most fun I’ve ever had with my clothes on!”

  “That’s enough, shithead!” Sarge called back. “Morgan could drive that truck through there sideways!”

  Mike did as instructed, kind of. In his own way, he stopped. When the Stryker stopped moving, it was sitting on top of a Honda Accord. Mike came back over the radio, laughing, “Stopped, boss!” The howls of laughter from him, Ted and even Doc, I think, were clearly heard. I could just see Sarge’s head hanging as he asked, why me, Lord?

  Mike’s handy work had drawn a few people out to see what all the noise was. They stood in the rain taking in the show. As I rolled past them, I waved and a young woman under a broken umbrella smiled and waved back. We didn’t see anyone else as we passed through. But Perry looked as though it were inhabited. The Walmart parking lot still had the remnants of the relief efforts from back then. The big military tents were still there, a couple of them. Conex containers sat with their doors open, rusting in the rain.

  In rapid succession, we passed the spot on the side of the road where Thad was camped when we came across him. The little lake where Thad had his snake encounter, which brought a smile to my face. And then the little patch of woods that led to the unfortunate encounter where Jess nearly shot my head off. It was a stark reminder of just how long it took me to walk this far. Days and days on the road. And this wasn’t even half way yet. There were so many days yet to come when I had made it this far. And yet, here we were in mere hours.

  As we passed through Cross City, I picked up my radio and called, “Hey, Sarge, you want to stop by your house?”

  No. No reason. Nothing left there.

  Ah come on! Mike replied. Let’s stop by for old time’s sake!

  No, Sarge replied.

  You never let us have any fun. Mike replied.

  Mikey, kids are meant to be seen, not heard. Sarge said.

  But, you can’t see me.

  Exactly. And I shouldn’t hear your prepubescent ass either!

  Prep
ubescent? Mike asked.

  Look it up, Einstein.

  We continued on our path in the constant rain. Both a hazard and a comfort. As we passed through Chiefland, I looked for signs of people. Much like in Altoona and Umatilla, I saw what must be the local market. But the soggy tables and tarps covering them sat empty. There’d been other signs of life. In a couple of places, I saw crops planted and some that looked as though they were either in the process of or had already been harvested. It was heartening to see. Life does indeed go on.

  We took highway 27 out of Chiefland towards Williston, which would eventually take us to Ocala. From there, I imagined the old man would take highway 40 through the forest to highway 19 and home. It was nearly the exact same route I had taken home. And again, I was struck by the difference. We’d be home today. It took me nearly a month to make the same trip.

  I started to think of all the differences. Like the day everything changed. I’d just left a drive-through where I grabbed a burger and a Coke. A burger that contained probably forty or fifty cows. Maybe more. And a Coke, which I do dearly love, made with shit no one should put in their bodies. Though I and millions of others did it daily.

  I was riding in a car at seventy-five miles an hour. Just the thought of what it took to make that happen could vapor-lock your brain if you really got into it, and not just everything it took to build the car. But the fuel, the road, the GPS system used for navigation. Millions upon millions of moving parts. But of course, at the moment I was sitting in the cab of a massive truck hauling a load of fuel. So, these things certainly weren’t gone. But the idea that everyone would again be zipping down the highway would be decades away, if ever.

  And maybe it wasn’t all bad. Life was certainly simpler in some ways and immensely harder in others. You didn’t have to worry about taxes or light bills. But you had to worry about how to produce light. Budgeting for the grocery bill wasn’t so much of a problem. But coming up with food was. And in most cases, the food we now ate was far better for us. It was certainly organic and free of pesticides and chemicals. But it took far more effort to produce.