The Devil Dog Trilogy: Out Of The Dark

by Boyd Craven III

I turned to see Pastor Horton walking up. He was pale and hollow-eyed.

  “I do,” I said, standing and offering him my hand.

  He took it and gave me a gentle squeeze as we shook.

  “I don’t feel right, keeping all of the food and gear from the raiders. I have an idea, but I wanted to run it by you before you go.”

  “Sure,” I said, having a feeling I knew what he was talking about.

  “You know, being prepared for the worst was what I grew up with. Not much of that mindset changed when I converted to Lutheran. The one thing I couldn’t shake or convert was my base belief of nonviolence. I’ve learned a lot, but I don’t know if I trust my own decisions any more.”

  I looked at him. “You never wanted to lead the community, did you?”

  “No, and now I’m faced with a moral and spiritual dilemma, and I don’t know what to do.”

  “Pull up a chair,” I said, motioning to the hood of the car.

  “Don’t mind if I do,” he said, shimmying up to the edge that Mel had just left. I joined him.

  “So what’s bothering you, Pastor?” I asked him.

  “These supplies. People were murdered for them, they were stolen, and not all of it is ours,” he told me.

  I reached in my pocket and pulled out a tattered map, the one I’d pulled from the phone company’s wall.

  “These are the communities circled.” I showed him.

  “Yes, you showed me yesterday. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Do I go to them and offer to return them? How do I know how much? What if they want more than we have? And it looks like there’s a few to contend with.”

  “Pastor,” I said, “the way I see it, you’ve got a few options—”

  “Me?” he asked.

  “Well, whoever wants to take charge. I know you don’t want to.”

  He snorted, and a ghost of a smile touched the edge of his lips for the first time.

  “You guys are set up pretty well here. Come fall, you should be in pretty good shape, shouldn’t you?”

  “Yes, I think so,” he admitted.

  “What’s holding you folks back?” I asked.

  “Not enough people for security, lack of leadership… and I’ll admit that last part is my fault.”

  “Ok, knowing that, I think you did one hell of a job no matter what I may or may not have said. My mind fuzzed out when the old man was killed.”

  “Mr. Grimes will be missed,” he said, and now I had a name for the old cowboy.

  “I’m sure he will. But your community here is doing better than just about everywhere else in the country. Let me ask you this, do you have empty houses?”

  “Too many. Sickness, loss of medications, and then the raiders… Wait, you’re talking about inviting them here?”

  “Not at first, and not all of them. But I mean, why not? Once I sat and chewed on it, I realized you were put into a situation you had no idea how to control or handle. In short, you need a small form of government. That could have taken the weight off your shoulders and let you focus on growing crops and your teachings.”

  “That would be a godsend, to be honest,” he said.

  “Well, how about the next service, you talk about holding elections and start letting the folks take more control. Even bring up the subject of reaching out to other local communities and see if you can all mutually support each other. I mean, this is a big subdivision that backs up to the school, and you are sitting good by the river. Hell, the library at the school is probably worth a ton when you consider how much practical knowledge is just sitting there waiting to be read.”

  “You know, I’m both glad and frustrated that I’ve talked to you,” he said, sliding off the hood.

  “Yeah, why’s that?”

  “I came here in search of answers, and instead, I find a new direction to tread, which brings new questions,” he said with a wry smile.

  “Yeah, should you or shouldn’t you. Now you’re tapping the community, and the reins will have been lifted from your shoulders. Listen, I’m not somebody you really should be taking advice from, anyways. I’m the world’s biggest screw-up,” I admitted.

  “Not according to your friends. They told me stories of what you’ve done and what was accomplished in Chicago,” he said.

  “There’s a lot of dead bodies in my past, preacher. I’m not a philosopher, just a homeless junkie. Don’t give me any praise,” I said, my voice almost turning into a growl.

  “Maybe you once were. I think God has a plan for you, Dick.”

  I didn’t understand that, and I turned to him. He faced me from a foot away and told me, “The truth is, the world has turned so ugly, I don’t know if we would have ever done anything about Chaz’s guys if your group hadn’t come along.”

  “Or if I’d just started killing you guys out of hand,” I told him and watched him blanch.

  “Why didn’t you?” he asked me.

  “I don’t know, maybe how my friends were treated when I caught up with them. How you’ve put us up while we rest and heal.”

  “You know, you can have one of the trucks. You have many miles to travel,” he said, tempting me.

  The truth was, the bottle of Jack Daniels I’d hidden in my pack from the raiders’ supplies was tempting me more. I didn’t know why I’d picked it up, but nobody there knew me and didn’t say anything to me about getting it. They probably didn’t even think anything of it. I knew what it meant, though, and it was a slippery slope. Still, a compulsion I couldn’t understand had me grabbing it. Self-control had kept me from drinking it. The truck, though, was just about a time machine. Instead of days or weeks of bike riding, we could be in Arkansas in hours.

  Fuel wouldn’t be a problem; we could spike the gas tanks of stalled-out cars. The big problem would be the big fat target painted on our backs. Still, it would give us speed and mobility, something that might have saved our group from getting caught up in this mess in the first place. Deciding to take some of my own advice, I decided to put the decision of the truck in the group's hands, while I thought about the JD.

  “Let me get back with you on that,” I told him.

  I was antsy to move, and I knew I wasn’t the only one. Luis was antsy as well, but I wanted to see what his mobility was going to be like. His body was already turning the colors of fall as the bruises started changing. Mel and Jamie had spent their time helping with the gardening, something they both knew a lot about. I think Courtney and Luis spent most of their time in the sack, and I learned to avoid the house when a ball cap or bandanna was tied around the handle.

  That was one of those things I probably should have already known but figured out when I’d walked in, hearing them make a racket. Still, I couldn’t be upset and just found somewhere else to be alone. I hadn’t drunk the JD, but it’d been close last night. I woke up drenched in sweat. It was a guilt nightmare, of that I was sure. In it, Jamie had been lying on the ground, a hole in her stomach, while Mel screamed for her father. I’d failed her, and in the dream, I felt the mule kick of grief and loss in my chest. I woke up gasping, and the bottle was the first thing I’d wanted.

  It had been in the same spot, but it was soft footsteps that made me stop, and Mel’s voice, sleepy, asking me if I was alright from the hallway of the empty house we’d been borrowing. That alone had stopped me; the fact she might walk in and see me doing something I didn’t want her to see. I had drifted off, but my dreams were of the Tennessee whiskey and the ignorant bliss it would bring me.

  “You ready?” Luis asked me.

  We’d all picked a time today to sit down to talk and then move on. We’d done enough for the small community.

  “Yeah,” I admitted. “We’ve been offered a truck, and to be honest, the pros and cons are pretty much equal in my book right now. Luis, I know I said before slower was safer… but in a way, I was wrong.”

  Courtney’s mouth dropped open in a comical expression, and she put her hand up to her mouth. “Why, did you just admit yo
u were wrong and apologize?”

  “I think he did. It’s too bad there're no tape recorders that work any more,” Mel said, smacking her mom’s side with her arm and looking at her with a grin.

  “Yeah, we could call it the best of Dick,” Jamie said.

  I busted up laughing because of how horribly wrong that phrase could be taken, and after a moment, everyone else did too. Jamie turned a furious shade of red.

  “Well, I’m not sure there’s a best of anything when it comes to me,” I said after the laughs had reduced themselves to snickers. “But I’m serious. Twice now, not being able to move fast enough has tangled us up in messes that we had no business being in. First, when we got separated, and the second time when they jumped you guys on the highway,” I said. “So, do we take the truck and know we’re going to be a target for somebody, or do we try to keep under the radar and move slowly?”

  “I think either way we’re going to be a target,” Mel said in a serious tone.

  “Jamie?” I asked.

  “I agree… if we took the truck, we could also take the bikes too, just in case we need to leave it… or… you know, if something happens.”

  “Like Murphy, the guy Dick was shouting at in his sleep the other night?” Courtney asked.

  “Yeah, like Murphy’s law. Man, I’d like to kick old Murph in the balls some days,” Luis said.

  “What do you two think?” I asked Luis and Courtney.

  “How long would it take to get to your farm from here if we drove?” Luis asked Jamie.

  “Well, it’s a little over four hundred and thirty miles now,” Jamie said without looking at me.

  I did some mental math and then spoke. “I think that’s a little over seven hours if we were going sixty, or six hours if we were going seventy. With the wrecks and the traffic snarls, I doubt we’d get anywhere close to that.”

  “No, but instead of a couple of weeks on bike, we could do it in a couple of days,” Mel said.

  “I’m getting the feeling that you guys are leaning towards taking the truck?” I asked, somewhat relieved not to have to make the decision all over again.

  “Here’s one more thing to consider,” Courtney said. “We’re past the bigger cities. As long as we don’t take a loop through one, we should be avoiding a lot of people. It’s pretty country, but soon it’s all cornfields.”

  “Then all we have to worry about is Malachi,” Jamie said.

  Mel shivered and then rubbed her arms as goosebumps broke out. Courtney giggle-snorted, and Luis and I looked at the women like they’d gone mad.

  “You know, Children of the Corn. He who walks behind the…” Then she busted up laughing, joined by Courtney.

  “That’s not funny, Mom!” Mel said, standing up. “That stupid movie scares the crap out of me.”

  “But… you live in Nebraska,” I said, confused.

  “Now you know what I have to deal with!” she said indignantly.

  The mature thing to do would have been to keep a straight face… but worrying about a fictional movie in the middle of a real-life post-apocalyptic event hit me funny. The inner child in me lost it, and soon so did I, falling out of my chair at the pissed-off look Mel was giving me. After a moment I was rocking in my chair, the tension and fear leaving me. Jamie gave me a play swipe on my shoulder, and I saw Mel was furious.

  “I’m sorry, kiddo. I had forgotten about that movie. The world we live in now is a lot scarier than anything Stephen King can come up with. I didn’t mean to make you upset,” I told her, wondering why her fury was directed at me and none of the other cackling hens in the room.

  “I don’t… It’s just not funny. Ok?”

  “It’s ok with me. I don’t like snakes myself,” I told her and watched her face go blank. And then a smile started to replace the anger.

  “I’ll have to remember that,” she said.

  “So let’s tell him we want the truck, and we can get the hell out of here,” I told them. “We’ll run dark with night vision gear as long as the batteries hold out.”

  “I can’t believe you admitted you were wrong, man,” Luis said after a moment. “You never show weakness around the ladies, or they’ll eat you up.”

  I shrugged, already mentally preparing myself to leave. “Oh well. Want to go tell the pastor while I get things packed up here?” I asked them all.

  Truth be told, I wanted to leave but felt bad at leaving such a place behind me. They would survive without us, and the roadblock gang was now learning how to become a roving security force. What they did with the two prisoners, I’d never know, and I didn’t want to ask… but if I could shake the dust of this town off my boots, I’d be happy, because saying goodbye sucked. I wanted to go without it, especially with the pastor. I wasn’t some good guy like he seemed to think I was, and he made me uncomfortable.

  “We’ll take care of it,” Jamie said, standing. Courtney and Luis joined her.

  “You coming, Mel?” Luis asked.

  His relationship with the teenager was by far the easiest of all of our relationships. I think he sort of grew on her the way a big brother would, and it was good to see that she was… as normal as a kid could be in this situation.

  “Naw, I have a lot to do,” she said airily and gave her mom a wink and a princess wave.

  I shook my head and headed towards the bedroom I was using when I heard the front door open and shut, and the house was mostly quiet. I didn’t have a lot to put back together, but since we were taking the truck, I wanted to get the gear I’d need immediately on top and repack it now that we had food from the community’s stores.

  “Dick?” I turned to see Mel walk into the doorway.

  “Yeah?” I asked her, watching as she slowly pulled a bottle of Jack Daniels out from behind her back.

  My mouth went dry. I tried to swallow my spit down, and after a second, I could. I knew she shouldn’t have it, but two bottles would be enough to make things—

  “I was bringing your canteen back. Remember you loaned it to me before you came here for Mom and—”

  “Yeah thanks, but you shouldn’t be toting around a bottle of booze. You’re not old enough, and your mom would kill you.”

  “Oh, this?” she asked, holding it up in front of her eyes. “When I dropped the canteen in your pack, it made a funny sound. I thought I broke it, so when I grabbed it out, I found this.”

  Oh shit. I went over to the pack and felt around. The bottle was gone, the hollow spot in the middle of the pack was gone.

  “How long have you had it?” she asked me.

  I turned to her slowly and then slumped into the unmade bed I’d slept in the past night.

  “Since the raid,” I admitted.

  “You’ve had this a while then?” she asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “The plastic’s not broke,” she said, eyeballing it.

  “I haven’t drank any,” I told her truthfully.

  “But you were going to.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “I thought about it,” I admitted. “It could also be used as a trade or barter item.”

  I know it could, but I really didn’t have any intention one way or another when I snagged the bottle.

  “But you didn’t.”

  “No,” I said.

  “Good. You won’t mind if I have my mom hold on to this, will you?”

  “Why?” I asked her.

  “Because, Salina talked to me. I know you can’t slip, Dick. You can’t afford to slip up. She told me booze worked when they quit giving you pills, till you found heroin.”

  Salina really let the cat out of the bag there. What about my HIPPA rights?

  “You’re right, it’d be safer with someone else, or pour it out.”

  “You’d be ok with me pouring it out?” she asked me, an eyebrow raised.

  “No, but I see where you’re going with this. I don’t even know why I grabbed it, and it’s what I’ve been thinking about off and on. I’d rather be rid of it,
but the practical side of me thinks that it’s a resource to be used or bartered for.”

  “I think having it here would be too much of a temptation. Think of Maggie. You’ve been without booze or pills for so long…”

  “How’d you get so smart?” I asked her, almost a whisper.

  She tapped a finger against her cheek, letting the bottle drop to her side. She turned. I got up slowly and followed her into the kitchen. She tore off the plastic and uncapped it, smelling it and making a face. I smiled at how her nose scrunched up, the same way Maggie’s would when she was smaller and smelled something she thought was gross. Cauliflower, brussels sprouts, when our old dog, Bruiser would fart. She arched an eyebrow, and I pointed at the drain. Every part of me wanted to stop her, but I watched her pour it all out, putting the empty bottle in the cabinet under the sink. She was right, I couldn’t resist the temptation forever.

  “Thanks, kid,” I told her.

  “Do me a favor before we leave?” she asked.

  “Yeah, sure?”

  “Get the radio working. I want to talk to my dad.”

  “You know what? If you promise to help me with the antenna wire, I’ll get it set up. Do you have your mom’s frequency book thing?” I asked her.

  Mel nodded, grinning.

  28

  I loaded up the truck while Mel and Jamie talked on the radio. Not only had her husband answered, but he was overcome to hear from his wife and daughter. We had a good two hours until full dark, and I was going to let them use that time to catch up and to get news. He’d been on the ham network almost during the entire event and had been asking for his wife every day.

  After loading up the old beat-up blue Dodge truck, I cracked the hood and checked things out. The motor was dirty, and oil stains and road grime coated everything. Still, I checked the hoses and wires. They were old, but everything looked ok. Not wanting to trust that, I headed into the house’s garage where a lot of things had been abandoned. I struck gold about ten minutes later when I found a roll of 3M Duct Tape. Smiling, I headed back out and started wrapping the coolant lines.

  “Why are you doing that?” Courtney asked me after a moment.