The Grim Reaper Comes Calling

by Darrell Maloney

  “I’m going to give you my watch. There’s a bottle of ibuprofen tablets in the heavy shopping cart. Give her two tablets at four o’clock unless she’s sleeping. If she’s sleeping give them to her when she wakes up.

  “Make note of the time, and give her two more tablets four hours after that. Unless she’s sleeping. If she’s sleeping…”

  She finished his sentence for him.

  “Give them to her when she wakes up?”

  “Exactly. That’s why I chose you for the nurse job, honey. Because you’re so smart.”

  Now, Beth wasn’t as gullible as some people believed her to be. She knew darned well he chose her for the nurse job because there was no one else available.

  But she was a girl who loved to be complimented, so she accepted it without argument.

  “Okay. And every hour I get a bottle of water for Mom to drink?”

  Dave caught Sarah’s eyes before answering.

  “No, honey. Mom’s taking a day off from drinking water and throwing up. Help her be comfortable, but only give her water if she asks for it.”

  With that he rose and set out on his mission.

  Chapter 13

  He’d remembered the truck as he walked back to Sarah with Lindsey in his arms.

  A pipe hauler, carrying a load of steel pipe to a construction site somewhere. Dallas, in all likelihood.

  He’d noticed it as they walked by because it wasn’t as common a sight as it once was.

  Virtually all residential construction used PVC these days. Plastic pipe. It was strong and durable, yet flexible. It lasted for decades once below ground, and was much cheaper than steel.

  These days steel pipe was used almost exclusively for commercial construction.

  Seeing a flatbed trailer full of the stuff was an oddity.

  Dave wondered at the time where it came from and where it was headed.

  It came from a steel pipe manufacturer on the west side of San Antonio.

  It was destined for a new college football stadium being built at a small university north of Dallas. A stadium which was to last the school a hundred years, and was worth the additional cost of pipe which would stand up to time.

  But that was all irrelevant for Dave’s purposes. All he really needed to know was that two sections of one inch steel pipe, each one about seven feet long, would be the answer to his prayers.

  He’d hustle back to the truck as quickly as he could, his motivation being that his family was left all alone.

  Now that wasn’t a major problem. They knew how to maintain a low profile and to keep quiet, and they were armed.

  Sarah was a pretty good shot, as was Lindsey.

  The problem was that both were incapacitated and, while not helpless, could be easily overtaken by someone who knew what they were doing.

  Beth, while she might be a tremendous help nursing her mom and sister, would be of no help in fending off bad men.

  And the fact Beth had already been kidnapped once in her life kept popping back into Dave’s mind.

  But this was a new world.

  The EMPs took out something else besides the electrical power and the vehicles.

  It also took away a sense of security for those who were strong enough to survive it.

  There were a lot of bad people out there, and very few law enforcement officers to keep them in check. Very little that decent people could do to protect themselves. Those who didn’t arm themselves and learn self-defense tactics fell victim.

  And sometimes even people like Dave, who had the capability and willingness to fight for and protect his family… well, sometimes they found themselves in a tight too.

  In this case he had an essential mission to go on. And there was no way he could carry Lindsey and Sarah at the same time. Beth was too small to push her mom’s wheelchair, and Sarah was too weak to roll it herself.

  Like it or not, he simply had no choice. He had to hide his family in the brush and leave them behind.

  The materials he needed to fashion a contraption to move his family were three miles or so back up the highway. He could make it there and back in an hour, maybe two.

  Add in whatever additional time it took to gather what he needed and it wouldn’t take him long at all.

  But then again, time was relative.

  Even a few short minutes could seem like forever under dire circumstances or when one was under attack.

  He set out on a jog.

  A slow jog, but it was the best he could muster in the condition he was in. In recent days he’d been taxed heavily with the predicament they were dealing with.

  He was far better off than either Sarah or Lindsey, but he was still almost at the point of exhaustion.

  What made his journey worse were the hills. They were in the middle of the Texas hill country, where lonely roads snaked back and forth, and steep rises alternated with sharp declines.

  Of course, when one was beaten to one’s limit, the climbs seemed much longer and much more treacherous than the declines.

  After an hour or so he arrived at the truck, out of breath and on legs which trembled and felt more like limp noodles than the rock-hard muscles he enjoyed in his youth.

  He went straight to the gear box located behind the driver’s side diesel tank and took out a winching tool to remove the cargo straps.

  That part was easy and took only a few minutes.

  If Dave had been a trucker, of course, it would have taken a fraction of that time. But while Dave had seen truckers unstrap their loads before, he’d never done such a thing himself.

  There was a learning curve involved as he tried to figure out exactly how to use the tools.

  The straps were only half the battle.

  The pipes on the back of the trailer were banded into bundles with heavy steel bands Dave could never hope to break.

  He stood back and studied his new problem while scratching his head. For as cliché as it sounded, scratching his head while studying a problem had actually helped him in the past.

  In this case it jarred a memory.

  A memory of his teenage years when he got bored being out of high school over the Christmas holidays.

  His Uncle Ron, a trucker by trade, asked Dave if he wanted to ride along with him when he drove up to Minnesota to pick up a load.

  Dave remembered arriving in Minnesota after a fierce winter storm coated everything with half an inch of ice.

  And how they found the box trailer they were transporting in the back of a transfer company’s lot, where it had been sitting for weeks.

  Dave watched as Uncle Ron took a sledge hammer and beat the wheels on the trailer to free up the brakes. He didn’t know why he had to do such a thing. But it did teach him one thing about truckers: Sometimes they carry sledge hammers with them.

  He remembered Uncle Ron saying his often came in handy for all kinds of things.

  Chapter 14

  Dave hustled back to the trucker’s tool box. He dug into it, moving cargo straps and crowbars and miscellaneous tools out of his way. And there, beneath half a dozen snow chains, he found what he was looking for.

  A short-handled sledge hammer.

  “Bingo!” he exclaimed with a touch of glee.

  It was his first smile of the day.

  And the day was almost over.

  With the sledge hammer he made easy work of the steel bands holding the pipe in place.

  Once the bands were free he dragged a single sixteen foot long piece of one inch pipe off the trailer and onto the ground.

  He was halfway through.

  Back to the tool box he went, this time looking for a hack saw.

  He didn’t find one, but he found something better.

  A heavy duty pipe cutter.

  Dave knew from personal experience that most portable pipe cutters will not cut steel. They’re great for copper or aluminum pipe, and will go through PVC pipe like a knife through hot butter.

  But the blades on most portable pipe cutters a
ren’t tempered and therefore not made to cut steel.

  He therefore held his breath when he returned to the long piece of pipe and attached the cutter to it.

  He spun it around the pipe three times and was happy to see the cutter left a deep groove in the steel.

  He tightened the cutter and spun it again, and the groove got deeper.

  It took less than a minute to cut through the piece.

  Another minute to make a second cut and his job was done.

  From the sixteen foot length of pipe he’d cut two pieces about seven feet long, then discarded the leftover piece by tossing it into the brush.

  He almost picked up the two pieces of pipe and scampered off, but he remembered one last thing.

  In the toolbox he’d seen a brand new roll of duct tape.

  He went back for one last visit to the toolbox to retrieve it.

  Dave knew a roll of duct tape was worth its weight in gold. It could be used a hundred different ways, to make a thousand different repairs. And he’d need a quarter roll to complete his rolling stretcher.

  Another thing Dave (and every other man in America) knew was that one could never have too much duct tape, for one never knew when it might be needed.

  He already had a good sized roll in one of the shopping carts.

  It might be enough to finish his project and it might not.

  The extra roll would take away the uncertainty.

  After shoving the tape into his leg pocket he picked up the two pieces of pipe and headed back.

  Now, jogging when one is exhausted is a difficult feat in itself.

  Jogging while exhausted and carrying two pieces of steel pipe, each one seven feet long, is even harder.

  He experimented with different methods.

  He tried carrying both pieces in one hand, then switching hands occasionally when they started to get heavy. He discarded that method rather quickly when one piece slipped away as he was changing hands on the run. It hit the pavement and bounced and he almost tripped over it.

  He could have broken his own leg due to his own stupidity.

  Then he’d really be in a tight spot.

  Next, he tried holding one piece up over each shoulder, like a javelin thrower throwing two javelins at once.

  That worked for awhile, until his arms and shoulders got exceedingly tired.

  He finally settled on that method, and periodically switching to a different carry, one pipe on each side of his body with his arms hanging at his sides, to give his shoulders an occasional rest.

  He found that there simply was no good way to carry pipe while jogging.

  But it had to be done, so he sucked it up and made it happen.

  It was almost dark by the time he made it back to the place he’d left his family. In the twilight it was hard to see his marker, and he had to slow to a walk the last three hundred yards or so.

  Finally, he saw it: the beat up and bent Chevrolet hubcap on the shoulder of the road. That marked the spot where he’d taken Sarah and the girls off the roadway to their campsite.

  He was almost there.

  But he knew better than to rush into camp assuming nothing had changed in his absence.

  If he’d learned nothing else in the year and a half since the world went black, he’d learned to expect the unexpected.

  He slowly, almost gently, placed the two pieces of pipe in the grass on the shoulder of the road.

  Coming back for them wouldn’t be a problem.

  Carrying them into a camp which had been taken over by armed men in his absence might be.

  If he were to encounter such a situation, he’d have to think fast and act faster.

  Sure, he could drop one pipe and use the other as a weapon. A pipe could be a deadly weapon if swung hard enough.

  Given a choice, though, he’d rather use his pistol and his knives.

  Besides, carrying the pipes through the brush would make a lot of noise.

  Once the pipes were on the ground he pressed ahead in full stealth mode.

  Chapter 15

  He planned to call out to his family to announce his presence before barging out of the darkness and scaring them half to death.

  First, though, he needed to have eyes on them. To make sure they hadn’t been overrun.

  He had to move slowly and quietly though, because he didn’t want any bullets to come flying his way because one of his daughters mistook him for a wild animal in the brush.

  Or worse, they’d been taken captive and their captors were hoping to get in a lucky shot.

  He moved a few feet at a time, just like the Marine Corps trained him to do. Each time he paused he reassessed his position and situation.

  “Situational awareness,” the Corps calls it.

  His goal, in total stealth mode, was to move ten to twelve feet at a time.

  During each pause he’d listen for signs he’d been spotted. Crickets, bullfrogs or cicadas which stop chirping. Birds which get spooked from the trees. Or worst of all, voices of men calling out a warning to their comrades.

  At the same time he’d closely examine his new position. For trip wires or booby traps or any indication this new position had been recently visited by bad guys.

  Lastly, he’d examine the path ahead.

  He’d look to see what kind of ground he’d traverse. Whether there were any loose rocks or twigs to step over. Both could be very noisy, especially on a still night. He’d make note of the brush. It was always quieter going around a bush than going through it.

  Once he examined everything he’d move out, advancing another ten to twelve feet.

  And he’d repeat the process.

  To a civilian not trained to move at night in enemy territory it seemed a maddening way to advance.

  When he was tasked to train young Marine recruits, some of them invariably complained about the pace.

  Many young Marines believe that non-commissioned officers were placed on earth by Satan himself to yell at them and make their lives miserable.

  They’re half right. Satan put NCOs on the earth for all that, yes. But the Corps also wants them to guide, train and counsel.

  When Sergeant Spear’s Marines once complained to him that moving at night took too long, he’d tell them that:

  A) They’d move even slower when their heads got shot off because they tried to rush things, and:

  B) Once they got trained they’d move a lot faster.

  Training men to move through heavy brush without being detected was like anything else. The more often one did it, the better and faster he got.

  “It’s like riding a skateboard,” Dave once told his men. “The first time you got on it you fell off. But if you kept at it you got better and better. After you learn these techniques you’ll be able to move safely through heavy brush at night, and you’ll be amazed at how fast you can move.”

  A young private in the back of the day room held up his hand and said, “But Sergeant Spear, I’ve tried to ride a skateboard a hundred times and I still fall off of it.”

  Without a second’s pause Dave answered, “Ah, well, Private Sanders… that’s because you’re a clumsy dumbass.”

  The fact was Dave had honed his nighttime recon skills to the point he could move through darkened and unfamiliar territory almost as fast as a civilian on a midday stroll.

  Ten to twelve feet, a ten second pause. Ten to twelve feet, another ten second pause.

  In no time at all Dave was outside the camp looking in at his wife and daughters.

  It was due to his familiarity of the shadowy subjects that he was able to tell them apart.

  Lindsey was, of course, lying on her pallet, propped up on one elbow. She was whispering to a much smaller figure… Beth… crouched down beside her.

  The third figure was easy to make out because she was in her wheelchair.

  The light from a crescent moon allowed Dave to see her head move back and forth as she watched the stars overhead.

  All looked peaceful.r />
  Most importantly, Dave saw no additional shadowy figures which had no business being there.

  He spoke in a calm voice, so he didn’t startle them.

  “Honey, I’m back. Is it safe to come in?”

  It was a failsafe measure he and Sarah had initiated long before, the first time Dave came back to a darkened camp, and one they’d practiced each and every time since.

  The thinking was this: if bad men had taken over the camp and knew that Dave was coming back soon, they might have dispersed back into the brush after giving Sarah a stern warning:

  “When your husband returns do not tell him we’re here or we’ll shoot you. Let him come into the camp thinking nothing is wrong.”

  They’d discussed that possibility many times, the two of them had. And they’d come to some pretty fair assumptions.

  One was that if Sarah did what they asked and let Dave walk into the camp unawares, they would shoot him down in cold blood.

  Another was that with Dave out of the way the bad guys would have free reign over Sarah and the girls.

  Lastly, their threat to shoot Sarah for warning Dave of their presence was probably a bluff, since shooting her down would serve them no real purpose.

  On this occasion, on this night, they followed their usual protocol.

  Dave, in a calm and normal voice, announced his presence and asked if it was safe to come in.

  If Sarah had been under duress she’d have yelled back, “Come In, Billy. Everything is okay.” Hearing their secret duress code Dave would have melted into the brush and scampered off to plan his own attack on the camp, this time to kill the bad guys.

  Instead, Sarah said, in a very relieved tone, “Come on in, honey. We’re glad you’re back.”

  “Me too, honey. Me too.”

  Chapter 16

  Dave quickly retrieved his sections of pipe and went around the group, collecting the kisses and hugs he always received when returning from one of his adventures.

  Beth was quick to tell him how she’d followed his instructions to the letter, for she lived for kind words and praise.