Hard Rain Falling (Walking in the Rain Book 3)

by William Allen

  That was enough to break my solemn mood. I was trying to spare Summer what I could, and Amy didn’t mind because she was awesome that way. In my own mind, I found myself agreeing with Amy though.

  The manner in which the girls reacted when we faced an attack here at the armory was more a true test of their concentration and willingness to act as a team. I also had not forgotten that when Amy was trying to bail out of the truck, it was Lori who followed instructions under fire. I still owed Lori for that, if nothing else.

  “So, we agree Lori and Summer are still invited?” I asked formally, and Amy agreed.

  “What about the others? If Lori and Summer go, their brother will naturally want to go with them. And if he goes, his girlfriend and the little brother will also need to be factored in for the trip.”

  Amy gave me a tight little grin before she answered.

  “Well, we will need to interview them, I guess. See what they can offer to the group. Remember, if they go, they will have to be willing to live with your parents’ rule when we get there. Not hard for the two of us, but Scott is eighteen; he might take offense at being told to muck out the stalls or dig a ditch. Same goes for the others.”

  I saw her point and a touch of worry entered my mind. Bringing Amy to the ranch was a no-brainer. Heck, even if she wasn’t the love of my life, she would make a great fit. She was smart, brave, and not afraid of work or hardship. I thought about that for a moment and decided if these others weren’t going to bring the same attitude, I could and would leave one or more of them here. This was an offer, a chance to survive in the screwed up world, and that offer was contingent on their good behavior.

  Acting in any other way was a risk to everything I held dear. I might take a chance on outsiders, but I needed to check them out first and no amount of sentiment might sway me.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  “I still say he don’t look like much” I heard a voice pronounce, too close, and the Glock was in my hand and lifting before my eyes had a chance to open.

  “Whoa, Luke, hold on,” another voice called, and this one was female and familiar. I lifted my head and saw Lori standing in front of the wheelchair, flanked by a young man with similar hair and tanned features but with a distinctive Roman nose. Judging from Lori’s height, I estimated him to be about six foot, maybe a smidge under, and while still skinny like the rest of us, his shoulders hinted at a normally stockier build. Not running to fat, but more like well-muscled.

  “Sorry,” I muttered, still sleep-touched. Dr. Spaulding was right. The weakness, mostly due to blood loss, meant I got tired easily. After our conversation, I encouraged Amy to go check on Summer and leave me out to enjoy the sun on my face. That lasted about fifteen minutes before my head started feeling too heavy for my body. Good to see that a small dose of adrenalin was all it took to get me back on my game after a short nap.

  Lori turned to the young man, obviously her brother, and gave him a smack to the bicep.

  “Shit, Scott. Do you have to be such a tool? He just got shot for Christ’s sake.”

  Lowering the pistol, I slipped my hand back under the blanket. Once the Glock was back in its holster, I extended my now empty hand to shake. Scott took it tentatively, but with a strong grip.

  “Again, my apologies. I didn’t mean to react that way. I just startle easy these days. Scott? Thanks for helping haul my ass back. I really appreciate it. The doctor said I was pretty close to bleeding out if you hadn’t helped Lori get me back in time.”

  Scott gave me a steady look and nodded before speaking again.

  “You’re welcome. And I understand from Lori that I have a lot of things for which I should be thanking you. The lives of my two sisters, for starters. I didn’t mean it the way that came out earlier. You just look like a regular kid, you know, not like some teen-aged Mad Max.”

  “Did you see the new one?” I asked, not able to help myself.

  “Yeah, it was okay. Still liked the second movie from the first series the best, though. You?”

  “Nah. Couldn’t get to see it before the pulse hit. Didn’t know it was coming or I would have done a lot of things different.”

  That got a grim laugh from both siblings.

  “Yeah, like going to Chicago, right?” Lori said.

  I thought about her question for a second. “No, looking back, I would still have done it. I might have done some things differently along the way, though.”

  Now both Thompsons looked at me like I was deranged.

  “Why the heck would you say that?” Lori demanded, sorely confused by my admission.

  “If I hadn’t gone to Chicago, I wouldn’t have been there when Amy needed me. Or you and Summer.” I spoke with all sincerity, and Lori had the good grace to blush in embarrassment. Not because of what I said, but as she realized the truth in what I said.

  “You really are one strange dude, Luke,” she finally said, and her eyes were moist as she spoke.

  “I admit I’m sometimes not the most well-balanced person you might find. Sorry for our digression Scott, I’m glad to finally meet you. Have you given any thought to what you will be doing next?” I jumped right into the next topic, feeling the urge to get this done. Also, I wanted to gauge his reactions to stress.

  “Well, with the Suburban, that opens up a whole lot of new opportunities. We didn’t have a running vehicle before and now we do. How is that thing running, anyway? I heard all the really old stuff would still work, but this one even has the power seats and a CD player that still plays.”

  Lori’s face turned crimson at her brother’s presumption, but I answered anyway.

  “I suspect it has to do with where it was stored. Either underground or in a specially grounded metal building. As for the rest, I hate to point out but that is actually my Suburban. I killed three men and crippled a fourth, then stared down a squad of soldiers for it. Sorry, Lori has been using it with my blessing, but the Suburban goes with us when we head south.”

  Scott nodded, acknowledging his misstatement. He wasn’t trying to cause problems or create a rift between the two tiny groups, but having the use of the SUV while I was laid up meant they had the ability to get around like before the lights went out.

  “Sorry, what I meant was we could scout out another place to live while using the truck. Actually, Lori has been cruising the neighborhoods, trying to track down the families of those girls you helped rescue. Did you really try to bluff your way in pretending to be me?”

  “I understand. And yes, I tried, though it didn’t work to get us past the first guard,” I replied, watching his reactions closely. He still had a friendly looking grin on his face.

  “So how did you get past him?”

  “Well, I ended up killing him after we extracted the information necessary to free your youngest sister.”

  I intentionally made it sound more like torture than the intimidation I really used to get the information. Scott lost his grin but didn’t look away.

  “I hear you. Things have been pretty much the same here.”

  “I don’t mean to pry, Scott, but what happened? I know some neighbors attacked your folks, but can you give me any more details? There have been some really questionable things happening in this town already. That’s why I’m asking.”

  Scott looked like I’d kicked him in the gut, but he didn’t avoid the question.

  “We had food after the event. Dad was a prepper and believed in having lots of shelf stable food on hand in case of something happening. Half the time Momma thought he was wasting his time, but she didn’t mind and actually they saved money on groceries buying the way they did.

  “In those first few days, my parents didn’t want to accept what had happened. I mean, my father couldn’t believe the lights were going to be off forever. Or until somebody fixes them, which might just as well be that long. He prepared, but the event was still overwhelming to him, I think. Momma was worse, going on about doing her Christian duty, and she set up a soup kitchen and t
ried to donate food anonymously to feed who she could.

  “Of course, people figured out who it was. Dad was pissed when he found out what Momma had done, and moved all the food back down into the shelter. He wasn’t angry with her really, but that someone found out we still had food. He said we couldn’t feed the neighborhood, and he was right. Dad had stockpiled a ton of food, but half of it was gone before the end of the first month.

  “We started rationing, really tight after that, and I started staying out hunting in the grasslands longer. I know the girls being gone really weighed on my parents,” he said this with a sad look to Lori, but not accusingly, “And they talked constantly about going to look for them. But they never did.

  “I figured the neighbors gave up on us having more food after a few months, since we were now just about as skinny as they were. People stopped banging on the door and shaking their fists at us anyway. Dad still kept a small reserve of grain, but we’d planted a big garden from the first and that was mainly keeping us fed, along with the rabbits I brought in from time to time. Dad had built a large cistern in the back yard for saving runoff from the roof and we used that water to keep the garden going.

  “For months this went on, all of us just scraping by, and there was some fighting but it was always somewhere else. Mom and Dad had some close friends as neighbors on one side of us, and we worked with the Danfords to keep the big garden going as well as dehydrating and preserving as much of the harvest as we could.”

  For the first time, Scott looked down, studying his shoes.

  “All during this time, I was crossing back and forth over to Haileyville to see my girlfriend. They had a barricade up back then and kept it manned to watch out for raiders coming through. I was bringing food over to her, trying to keep her and her mom and her little brother alive. They were starving, but her mother would not take the food from me. So I brought it to Helena and she pretended to pick it up from the market. Then she would make them something to eat. Helena tried to grow a garden for the three of them, but someone kept going in at night and stealing everything.

  “One day when I was walking home from visiting Helena, I could tell something was wrong as soon as I started coming up the street. I could hear gunfire and screaming, and it all sounded close. Too close. I started running; my heart felt like it was beating out of my chest.

  “I expected to find raiders outsiders attacking my home. But I recognized these people shooting into the house, these raggedy scarecrows with their shotguns and machetes. There was Mr. Patel, from down the way who owned the corner store, and Mrs. Saunders, who worked at the plant with my dad and lived a few rows down in the left. I saw other neighbors, down dead in the grass and at least one running out the front door of the house carrying a nearly empty flour canister. I knew it was nearly empty because it was my job to grind the stuff.”

  Scott stifled a sob before he could continue.

  “As soon as I realized what was going on, I started shooting. Killing my neighbors. They shot back, but I think I surprised them by approaching from the street. I lost count how many I shot, but it didn’t matter. When I got to the house, I found my father laying in the living room. He was breathing out his last, with a river of pink froth foaming up out of his mouth. My mother was out back, a bullet in her head.

  “I actually understand why you did what you did, Luke. I went around and cut the throats every one of those fuckers still breathing. Then I buried my parents and the Danfords, who also died trying to protect the garden and the supplies in the house.”

  I reached out, laying a hand on the young man’s arm. He looked down but did not pull away.

  “Thank you. I know that must have been hard. I can’t imagine what that must have been like. I wanted you to tell me your story, because I want to offer you and your people a chance. I cannot promise what we will find, but I have a feeling my family is still alive. My dad had a plan and he has friends who would go to our ranch in the event something like this happened.”

  “You really think so, Luke?” Lori asked, tears streaming down her face. She heard it all, of course. Stood right there and listened to how her parents were murdered. Killed by some of the same people Mrs. Thompson had helped.

  “Lori, my dad was a Marine for a long time. He’s got my grandfather, who is just as tough as old boot leather, and if my Uncle Billy made it in from Dallas, then yeah, I think there’s a good chance. If any of my father’s old buddies made it over, then likely as not they’ve already turned the homestead into a firebase.” I added that last bit with a chuckle, since that was just the truth.

  Scott stood as if in thought, then looked me in the eyes.

  “Luke, I ain’t got nowhere else to go. Momma had a sister over in Kansas City, but that might as well be on the moon; unless I wanted to just walk it, but I am not that crazy.” He gave a little grin at that last statement. “If you’ll take us, all of us, then I’m in.”

  “Great. Let’s go find my other wheelie buddy and we can go meet the rest of your people.”

  Just then, I heard a rattle of wheels on concrete and looked to my left to see Amy coming and pushing Summer in a cool looking wheelchair that looked like it should have mag wheels and a flag on the back. I wanted to give Amy shot about giving me the old person wheelchair, but figured I would save the kidding around for later.

  Despite Scott’s quick recovery from the emotional tale, the mood was a somber one as we waited for the other two girls. Scott had bared his soul when he told the story of his parents’ death and I could tell the guy still carried around a load of guilt. Certainly he felt responsible because he wasn’t there, but the blame, if any, was on his mother. She exposed the family to danger by her reckless actions. You can’t save everybody, and trying to do so can often mean killing everybody instead. I would never tell him that, but I wondered deep down if Scott already knew.

  “What’s up?” Summer asked, giving us a big smile despite her injury and the jarring of the chair ride.

  “We’re just going on a little road trip,” I said, and gestured to the parking lot.

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  Scott helped me into the folded up wheelchair while Lori and Amy assisted Summer. Really, as long as Summer kept her weight off the leg, she seemed to be in fairly good shape. Better than me. Only Scott saw my hard façade crack as he helped me out of the car seat and into the chair.

  “Are you sure?” he asked, concern clear in his features. We were alone in the garage, with the girls already clattering inside following Summer’s sports car chair.

  “It’s just pain. I can feel the stitches pulling a little, but mainly the hurting is from flexing muscles. Trust me; you don’t know how many muscles run through the lower abdomen until you catch a bullet there.” I hissed out through gritted teeth as I continued down into a seated position. “Doctor Spaulding says to give it a few more days and I’ll be able to move around better. Really, I got lucky. Another few inches in any direction and the slug would have hit something vital. This way, I just have to gut it out and keep going.” I said this in a more conversational tone as the strain ended, leaving me in the usual amount of pain.

  “Really? ‘Gut it out’ is the best you can come up with?” Scott replied jokingly, and only then did I realize the bad pun I’d inadvertently made. I guess I was accidentally funnier than I thought. I left it alone since we were now navigating around the narrow door leading from the garage into the house itself.

  The inside of the Thompson house was in stark contrast to the overgrown, abandoned appearance from the outside. The house was clean and smelled of Pine Sol. I was shocked at the difference, and realized the exterior was a form of camouflage for the house. ‘Nothing to see here, move right along’ was the message. Like many homes in this style, the garage door opened up straight into the kitchen.

  Scott’s girlfriend, Helena, and her mother, Connie, were there to welcome us and I could see the look of consternation on Helena’s features as she took in Summer’s bandaged
and elevated leg. She didn’t give me a second glance, which was fine for now. I didn’t see the younger children yet, so they must be playing in another room or something. I noticed Helena was painfully thin, with medium brown hair and large brown eyes. Anyone seeing her before the event would automatically assume she had an eating disorder. Now, I knew she had just been malnourished.

  For her part, Lori strode across the room quickly to give Connie a familiar hug, which the older woman returned warmly. She was like an older and more careworn carbon copy of her daughter, and nearly as gaunt. Helena’s mother still looked shocked to see the girl, even though Lori had been by the house two or three times since our first, ill-fated visit.

  “Connie,” Scott said, stepping forward to make the introductions, “I know you’ve seen these two before, but now they’re all cleaned up and bandaged. This is Luke”—he gestured to my seated form—“and this is Amy.” Again with the polite wave, almost a flourish.

  We exchanged ‘nice to meet you’ pleasantries, and then moved, walked, or rolled out of the kitchen and into the living room. Despite the cleaning and generally good state of repair, I could tell some parts of the house had seen battle. The walls of the kitchen, for instance, showed signs of hastily patched bullet holes in the drywall. The living room, however, reflected the story Scott told of what had happened here. Mr. Thompson had died in this room, and he’d taken a tithe of his attackers along for the ride.

  The carpet was removed, as was the pad underneath, and a patchwork of throw rugs failed to conceal the bare concrete floor. The brick fireplace was chipped in half a dozen places, and two of the internal walls were peppered with shotgun pellets and bullet holes. Mismatched furniture provided seating for those of us without our own convenient accoutrements. I wondered how Scott could stand to live where his parents had died, but kept the question to myself.

  “Alright,” Scott said as the group settled into their places. I noticed Helena was sitting close to Scott on one of the loveseats, their hands interlinked. Amy, sitting in a straight backed kitchen chair, had taken mine absently as I wheeled into place next to her. Working the wheelchair made my gut ache, but I insisted I was fine.