Conflicted Home (The Survivalist Book 9)

by A. American

  I put my hand on his shoulder and replied, “I think it’s really nice. Danny will appreciate it.”

  Thad laid the chisel down and took up a small propane torch and lit it. He ran the flame back and forth over the words he’d carved, charring them to a deep black. The rest of the wood, he singed to a light brown. I helped him for a bit as we fit the two pieces together. He had the idea of drilling through the back of one into the back of the top piece and fitting a dowel. Using some wood glue, we clamped the two pieces together for the glue to dry.

  “I think everyone will appreciate it,” I said. “It’s a nice cross.”

  Thad looked at the cross and said, “I wanted to build her a casket. But it would take a lot of wood and more time than we have.”

  I patted his back. “I think the body bag will have to suffice for now.” I nodded at the cross, “This will give everyone something to look at and remember her.”

  “I’m going to varnish it, I think,” Thad said as he inspected his work.

  “Sounds good,” I nodded. “I’ve got a couple of things I want to do. I’ll see you later.”

  “Thanks for the help.”

  I nodded as I left him to finish his monument. Both sad and noble at the same time. The dogs were lolling in the driveway when I came through the gate. Their tongues hung from their mouths into the dirt and pine needles as they tried to cool themselves. They must have been out running after something. I stopped to scratch heads and pat flanks. Their tails thumped the round, kicking up small clouds of dust. I envied them. To be a dog and have no concern, let alone knowledge of the bigger powers at play around them. Most people didn’t look twice at a dog today. Unless they were hungry of course. Then, being a dog could be a real liability.

  I went over to the old Suburban. It was covered in leaves and pine needles and looked as though it’d been sitting there for years when it’d only been a couple of weeks. I popped the hood and looked at the two batteries. I wanted to try to restore them. Even if they only lasted a short time. I’d need some tools, so I headed to the house.

  The house smelled wonderful and I found Mel and the girls gathered around the dining table. “What smells so good?” I asked.

  Mel got up and went into the kitchen and returned with a plate for me. “Here. Made you one too.”

  I sat down, leaning my rifle against the wall. “What is it?”

  “It’s a bar-b-que sandwich. Kay baked rolls and I slow-cooked some of the beef in a crockpot. It came out really well.”

  “It’s really good, Dad,” Lee Ann affirmed. Her sisters both nodded their agreement.

  I picked the sandwich up and sniffed it, “This smells amazing.”

  And it was amazing. “Wow,” I said as I licked sauce from my fingers. “This is terrific.”

  We chatted around the table as we ate. Normal talk, nothing morbid. Nothing about Bobbie. Sad as it was, life had to continue. Our lives had to continue. So, we talked about how good the food was. About the cookies Kay was baking for dessert and about the coming weddings. Bobbie’s death put a damper on the coming nuptials, but they were still going to happen, and it gave us something positive to focus on. Well, for some to focus on. I rarely thought about it.

  After eating, I told Mel I was going out to work on the truck. Little Bit said she wanted to help and carried her plate into the kitchen before meeting me at the back door. I used the moment to remove the plate carrier, any reason to get out of the damn thing. Before heading out, I grabbed a box of baking soda and bag of Epsom Salt. We walked out to the shed while she told me a story about a squirrel she had watched earlier today as he buried acorns. She said every time he would bury one, another squirrel would run over, dig it up and steal it. I laughed when she said they should be nice to one another.

  “That’s critters, kiddo. Only the strongest survive,” I said.

  Her lip curled and she replied, “Or the sneakiest.”

  “Or the sneakiest,” I agreed with a pat to the head.

  “What are we going to do?” She asked as I put tools and other items I’d need into a bucket.

  “We’re going to fix the batteries in the truck.”

  “You going to charge it?” She asked.

  “Yeah, but we’ve got other things to do first.”

  Once I had everything I’d need, I carried the bucket out to a small yard cart and set it down. Naturally, Little Bit wanted to pull the cart. I only had to help a little. At the truck, I asked her for the wrench in the bucket. She handed it to me and I removed the two batteries from the truck. I asked her to set out a dish-pan type container I’d brought as well as I popped the caps from the batteries.

  “What are you going to do?” She asked.

  “We’re going to pour this old acid into there.”

  “Can I do it?”

  I smiled, “No, sweety. The batteries are very heavy and this acid can burn you. We have to be very careful.”

  I slowly poured off the first battery, ending with it held upside down over the tub to get as much of the acid out as possible. Then, I drained the second one. Once the batteries were empty, I mixed up a solution of baking soda and water.

  “Grab that little funnel and stick it in one of those holes,” I said.

  “What’s that for?” She asked as she placed the funnel into one of the open cells.

  “We’re going to clean the battery with this.”

  “The inside?” She shouted.

  I smiled and nodded, “Yeah, the inside.”

  We filled the cells of both batteries with the solution. Then I capped the batteries and rocked them back and forth. Little Bit tried to help, but discovered just how heavy the batteries were. After agitating the solution in the batteries, I poured them out into the tub. The baking soda would help neutralize the acid already there.

  “Now what?” Little Bit asked.

  I rubbed her head. “Now we need to go inside for the next part.” I picked up the Epsom Salt and handed it to her. “Can you carry this?”

  She cradled it against her chest with both hands. “Yep. It’s heavy, but I’m strong.” She made me smile and we went back inside.

  I told her to take the salt to the kitchen and I’d be right there. I told Mel I was going to use the stove for a minute before taking out a Pyrex container. I measured out four cups of water from the Berkey filter and poured it into the bowl, then lit the stove. Setting the measuring cup on the counter, I told Little Bit to fill it with the salt.

  “Is it safe? Can I touch it?”

  I nodded, “Yep. It won’t hurt you.”

  She reached in and grabbed a fist full of the crystals and let them fall through her hand into the cup. She repeated this until the measuring cup was full, and there was quite a mess on the counter. I tested the water with my finger, it was getting hot, so I started slowly pouring the Epsom Salt in while Little Bit stirred it with a spoon.

  “This is fun. It’s like we’re cooking,” she said with a smile.

  “We are cooking. We’re cooking up science!” I replied with an exaggerated smile as I tickled her sides, getting a squeal out of her.

  I added another two cups of water and we measured out another two cups of salt and continued the heating and mixing process until all the salt was dissolved. I was using a two to one ratio of water to salt and the process went faster when the water was heated. With the solution ready, I told Little Bit it was time to go back outside. We walked back over to the truck and she held the funnel while I poured the solution into each cell until both batteries were full.

  “Now what?” She asked.

  As I was placing one of the batteries on the cart, I replied, “Now, we have to charge them. We’ll take them to the shop and put the battery charger on one of them tonight.”

  After setting the bat
teries on the bench, I connected the charger to it, on its lowest setting. The needle jumped up, showing it was taking a charge. “Now, we wait,” I said.

  “That was fun,” Little Bit replied as we walked back to the house in the dark.

  “You’re a good helper,” I replied. “But it’s time for you to get ready for bed.”

  She yawned. “But I’m not tired.”

  I smiled as we went inside. Mel and the girls were sitting in the living room. The house smelled of soap and Taylor was mopping at her hair with a towel. Mel intercepted Ashley as she passed by, “You need a bath, stinky girl. The tub is already full. Go take a bath.”

  “Awe, Mom, I don’t want to take a bath,” Ashley moaned in protest.

  Mel got up from the couch, pointing down the hall, “I don’t care what you want. You need a bath and you’re going to take one.”

  With her shoulders slumped, Ashley slogged down the hallway as she peeled off her clothes. Just as I sat down, there was a knock at the door. I looked over and called out, “It’s open!”

  Jess came in, holding a plate covered with a dish towel. She came in and sat down on the ottoman. “Here’s some of Miss Kay’s cookies. I thought you guys would like some.”

  I flipped the towel off the plate and took one, “You thought right!”

  “You didn’t have to bring them over,” Mel said.

  Jess shrugged. “I was on my way home anyway.”

  Pushing a crumb into my mouth, I asked, “How’s Danny doing?”

  She considered the question for a moment before answering. “He’s still very sad. Not saying much.”

  I held up the last piece of the cookie before popping it into my mouth and asked, “Did he eat a cookie?”

  She smiled, “Yeah. He had one.”

  “That’s good. Danny has a soft spot for cookies. It’ll take some time for him.”

  “How are the kids?” Mel asked.

  “They’re taking it pretty hard too. Edie is really sad. But Mary is staying close to her. Jace is staying with Danny. He won’t leave his side.”

  “Probably the best for both of them,” I replied.

  Jess looked at the floor for a moment and she asked, “We’re going to have the service for Bobbie in the morning?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. First thing in the morning.”

  “Then what?” Mel asked.

  I let out a slow breath. “Then we go to town and hang the men responsible.”

  “How many are there?” Jess asked.

  “We have three of them. A few others are already dead. But there are more of them out there. I think the old man will know where they are after tonight.”

  “What’s he doing?” Mel asked tentatively.

  “Let’s just say, he has a way with words,” I replied, not wanting to go into details.

  A breeze kicked up once the sun went down and we spent the evening in the living room listening to music on the iPad. The coolers I made were drawing air into the house, and that lowered the temps inside noticeably. Not to mention, just the introduction of fresh air; the house smelled good. It was comfortable, and lounging on the couch as the song, “American Pie” played made for a sleepy setting. I woke up around nine, according to my watch, and carried Little Bit to her bed. The older girls were asleep on the floor and I left them where they were.

  Mel was in the bed when I returned. She looked up and said, “Why don’t you take a shower?” And she patted the bed.

  “Oh, really?” I asked with a smile. Stretching, I said, “I was thinking about it.”

  “Stop thinking about it and get in there.”

  “Good thing I took a nap,” I said as I flipped on the bathroom light.

  Chapter 9

  We stood silently, gathered around the bird feeder. The earth was still fresh there. The smell of it filled the air. Its broken surface sparkled in the early morning sun as countless drops of dew glistened and shimmered in the growing light. As was sadly becoming our custom, each was left to themselves to say their piece. A dry eye was the oddity as most were wet with grief.

  Little Bit hugged Mel’s leg and wouldn’t look at the place. Kay stood close to Sarge, holding his arm as he patted her back and she dabbed tears from her eyes. Aric stood behind Fred, his arms around her. Jess stood with Doc, the two holding hands. Jace and Edie were with Mary, and Thad stood behind her, offering them all strength. Dalton, Ted and Mike stood off to the side, more stoic than the rest.

  After a moment, Thad’s deep voice filled the air. “He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death, mourning, crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” Then he stepped forward and took up the cross he’d made and gently pushed it down into the soft dirt. Bobbie’s name ran down the vertical with the dates marking her life on the horizontal. It was a tasteful adornment to her grave with its surface darkened by the flame.

  Danny looked up and nodded at Thad. Thad walked over to him and firmly gripped his shoulder. The two shared a look, but said nothing. It was often the way of men. Men who were not prone to speaking their thoughts could readily share them in this manner. And here they did.

  “O my love, my wife!

  Death, that hath suck’d the honey of thy breath

  Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty.” Dalton belted out in a voice that possessed surprising strength. I could visualize him on a Roman stage. He could project his voice so well, he didn’t need speakers. It naturally carried and seemed to echo throughout the woods behind the pond.

  Danny said nothing. He stood, looking down at the grave of his wife. It caused a fear to well up in me. An all-consuming and nearly insurmountable fear of having to do the same. It terrified me more than anything my mind could conjure. The thought of having to scrape away the earth to lay Mel or one of the girls into a pit, it made me physically ill and my head started to spin. I had to get control of myself and push the morbid thoughts from my mind. We were here for Bobbie and I would remember her. But as I pushed those thoughts away, I promised myself that I would do whatever it took to prevent having to perform this for my own family.

  Danny knelt down and placed his good hand on the softly mounded dirt. His head hung and he began to weep. His fingers clenched into a fist around a knot of dirt and he softly pounded the ground with his fist. Dalton stepped up beside me and nudged me with his elbow and nodded at Danny. I knew what he was saying and we stepped up on either side of him and gently raised him to his feet. He didn’t resist, as his body shuddered from the sobs. We guided him back to the house, still clenching the fist of dirt.

  Everyone said their personal goodbyes and one by one, they drifted away from the scene. I looked out from the porch to see Mel still at the grave, the last to leave. Mel had known Bobbie the longest. Actually, longer than Danny, Mel was there when they started dating. I walked out to the grave as she wiped her eyes.

  “You OK, babe?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “I just don’t get it. Why her? We were handing out food. We were doing good. Why would someone do that?”

  “You can’t explain evil.”

  She looked up at me, her eyes red, swollen and wet. “How much more suffering must we endure? What’s the point? The world doesn’t make any sense.”

  I wrapped her in my arms. It was easy to fall into the trap of thinking the world was against us now. There always did seem to be a new disaster or threat to be worried about. I took it day by day, trying not to focus on the distant future or past, but dealing with the issues of the immediate. But everyone had to come up with their own way of coping with it.

  “I’m not leaving here anymore,” she said as we walked back towards the house.

  “Okay,” I replied. “But I’m going to town today. We’re going to hang the men responsible for this.”

>   She nodded. “Okay. One more trip to town. I want to see their faces when they hang. I want them to suffer.”

  I pulled her in and kissed the top of her head. “Don’t let the hate consume you, babe. It doesn’t go anywhere good. Believe me.”

  “Well, I’m going to watch.”

  “I don’t blame you. But Little Bit can’t go. The girls need to stay here.”

  She nodded her head. “I was already going to tell her sisters to watch her. I’ll go with you. When are you going?”

  “I was planning to go over to Sarge’s place and see where they’re at on the interrogation. When I’m done with that, I’ll let you know.”

  She stopped and stepped in front of me, to face me. “Do not leave without me.”

  I leaned in and kissed her forehead. “I won’t. I promise.”

  I made my way to Sarge’s house. The garage door was open, and I was met with a curious sight. Micha was still tied up and hanging from the ceiling, albeit in a creative fashion. His legs were tied together and his hands were likewise tied together, but under his legs. A stout piece of oak was run under his arms across his chest and this piece of wood was suspended from the ceiling. It looked uncomfortable as hell.

  “Whose creation is this?” I asked as I came into the garage.

  Mike pointed at Dalton, “It’s that sadistic fuck. I’ve never seen anyone like him; and I thought I was bad.”

  Micha’s body was racked with obvious pain. “How long has he been like that?” I asked.

  “Oh, since last night,” Dalton replied. “I wanted to make sure he didn’t have anything else to tell me.”

  “And?”