“Do you have a weapon?” DJ demanded.
The man shook his head.
“Unzip your jacket and open it up. No sudden movements, though.”
The man did as he was told.
“Now turn around, slowly.”
The man hesitated. DJ saw the reluctance in his eyes.
“Do it now!” DJ yelled as he motioned with his pistol.
The man slowly spun in place, and DJ saw the knife wedged between the jeans and the belt. His nose scrunched at the sight of the weapon, and he felt his breath go hot. He closed on the man and removed the weapon from its roost. It was only a cheap kitchen knife, but it was still deadly, just as deadly as a pickup truck.
DJ threw the knife behind him. He grabbed the man by his jacket just below the neck, and the barrel of his pistol crashed down on the back of the man’s head. The man crumpled, and DJ came down onto the vagabond’s back with his knee. Then he dug the muzzle of his pistol into the back of the man’s neck.
“No weapon, huh? Only looking for food, huh? You would have killed me in my sleep, given half a chance, wouldn’t you, asshole?” DJ hissed.
“No, no, I was just looking for food! I only use the knife for defense! I wouldn’t have hurt you!”
“Yeah, right.” DJ grabbed the man by one of his sleeves and yanked up to turn him over. It surprised him that it was so easy. He wasn’t sure if it was because the man was so thin and frail, or if he was just so angry. He stuck the big .45 in the man’s face. “You would have slid your knife right between my ribs and stolen all of my stuff if you thought you’d get away with it. I ought to kill you right now.”
“No, please, please. I just needed some food. I saw your tire tracks cut off of the road and followed them hoping to ask for something to eat.”
“Eat this, then!” DJ shouted as he punched the man in the mouth with the pistol. He could feel the teeth break through the metal and polymer handgun. The man must have believed DJ was going to shoot, or the pain of having his teeth knocked out was too much to bear. He passed out.
DJ stood up over the man and laughed. The only thing that would have made this better was if this hobo had been one of the rednecks who had wrecked his trailer. He got a roll of duct tape and bound the man’s hands together.
After quickly loading the few items he’d used for a shelter back on to the bike, he climbed on and took off. He didn’t want to leave in the daylight, but if one person had found him, others could, too. As he headed back to the road, he looked over his shoulder and saw the man starting to stir. DJ expected that he might feel a little bad for what he’d done, but the feeling was more akin to elation than regret. He pressed the throttle on the big bike and roared down the road, barely noticing the rain.
* * *
Gabe was boiling water to drink and wondering what he’d do for water during the dry season. His brow furrowed as the question of how long the Smash might last occurred to him. Many items that people took for granted might be difficult to come by. The good news was that the folks out here in the country seemed able to provide more of what they had to have and get by with fewer luxuries than their city counterpoints. Even if this lasted several years, which he doubted, he could probably grow enough food to feed himself and trade for other things he needed. Of course, no one could grow water, so that was his biggest concern. If he had a generator, he could hook it up to the well and pump water whenever he needed it. He and Hannah had talked about getting one several times. It was on their list, but they’d been saving every penny they could to build the house.
They’d always dreamed of living on land like this. Fifty acres located far enough out of the city so they could really see the stars at night. A place they could grow their own food and have room for their son to roam without having to worry about gang wars and drive-by shootings.
It was when Michael had started school that they realized they had to get out of the city. Even the elementary schools weren’t safe. Drug dealers hung around and would sell to any kid with the money. Gabe had been shocked that some of the fifth graders were almost as big as he was. It was no place to raise a child. They found this fifty-acre tract, but it took all the money they had saved plus the proceeds from their house in the city to buy it. They found a used mobile home that only needed minor repairs and moved it onto the property until they could save the money to build a house. Gabe, a computer programmer, had worked out a deal with his boss to work from home all but one day a week. Hannah had started a garden to help defray food costs. They’d often talked late into the night about living self-sufficiently on their own little farm. That dream had died, and, since then, Gabe had been trying to cope with being single again. He’d admit that he wasn’t coping well.
Gabe pulled himself out of his memories and returned to the here and now. He wondered what the Walkers were doing for water. Jane hadn’t said. He wondered if they had a generator. She seemed calmer about the whole situation than he would have expected a single mother to be. If she had a generator, how was she fixed for gas? How long would it last? Could they get more? Every question made him think of two more.
Gabe noticed that his mind was clearer than it had been in the last few years. This “Smash” situation was obviously not good, and it had the potential to get nasty. His brain raced back to what had happened at the store. The lawlessness he’d left behind in the city was suddenly rearing its ugly head out here in the country, too. One of the deputies had told him they were having problems with the city folk. If things continued to slide, there would be more and more people leaving the cities. Those folks would be desperate and might do anything for food, water, and shelter. Many of them would fall prey to the vile scoundrels society kept at bay most of the time. Others would join the ranks of the wicked just to survive. One thing was sure, with the veneer of civilization gone, these predators would take whatever they wanted, however they wanted. The possibility sent shivers down Gabe’s back. He couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to Jane or Robby. A mother and son would need protection and he’d do whatever he could to make sure nothing bad befell them.
He walked to his bedroom and opened the closet door. Digging through the dress clothes he no longer wore, he found what he wanted. The lever-action rifle had been a gift from Hannah. He hadn’t touched it since she’d left, and it was covered in dust. He opened the bottom drawer of his dresser and fished out a cleaning kit and two and a half boxes of ammunition for the rifle. Gabe contemplated where he could find more ammo.
His revolver was also in the dresser, along with a full box of cartridges. He took both firearms and the cleaning kit to the kitchen. Spreading some old newspaper on the table, he began the process of restoring the weapons to serviceable condition. After he finished with them, he found his dad’s old shotgun and both of the .22 rifles. Gabe’s father had bought one of the rifles for him when he was ten years old. The other he’d bought for Michael. It was still new in the box. He cleaned his .22 and the shotgun. Michael’s gun was still spotless, although it needed a little oil. Then Gabe did a quick ammo check. He had lots of .22 shells, but only a couple of boxes of bird shot for the shotgun. He also found half a box of .357 Magnum ammo for his wheel gun with the shotgun shells.
Gabe found the holster for his revolver and threaded it onto his belt. He stuck the stainless steel gun into the leather holster and looked at himself in the mirror. It struck him how thin he was. The revolver stuck out conspicuously on his narrow frame. He’d previously thought of himself as a Marshal Dillon type, but he had to admit that he looked more like another one of television’s legendary lawmen. “Where’s your bullet, Barney?” he asked himself in the mirror with a smile. It quickly disappeared as he realized how long it had been since he’d used those facial muscles.
Deciding that the holster looked a little silly, Gabe removed it. There might come a time when he’d need to wear a gun when he left the hou
se, but not yet. He put the gun into a soft, zippered pouch. He could keep that close without looking ridiculous.
He walked back into the kitchen, picked up the lever-action, and loaded the tube magazine. He left the chamber empty for safety’s sake and walked out to his truck. He stuck the rifle into the scabbard built into the front of the saddlecloth seat cover. It kept the rifle out of sight, but it was easy to draw the weapon as long as the door was open.
Gabe drove down to the Walker place. As he pulled into the drive, he saw Jane step out through the front door. She had on an apron and was drying her hands on a dish towel. For a split second, she reminded him of Hannah, but he pushed that thought quickly out of his mind.
“Mr. Horne, what a surprise,” she said. “I was just starting to cook dinner. Would you care to join us?”
Gabe was a little shocked. He hadn’t noticed that it was dinnertime. Or had he? He reached out the window to open the truck door. The inside handle had been broken for some time. “No, thanks,” he said, “I wouldn’t want to be any trouble. I just came over to check on you and ask a few questions.”
The look of pity on her face—that familiar look Gabe couldn’t stand—changed almost imperceptibly at his answer. Gabe couldn’t tell for sure what this new look meant. Perhaps it was gratitude that he’d thought about them.
“It’s no trouble,” she said. “Why don’t you come in and help me while you ask your questions?”
She turned around without waiting for an answer and walked into the house. Gabe followed her quietly. Once they were in the kitchen, she gave him a knife and some of his own champion tomatoes to slice.
“Where’s Robby?”
“He’s down at the pond trying to catch some perch for supper.”
“That sounds good,” Gabe said without thinking.
“You’re welcome to join us.”
“Ah, no. No, thank you. I have some stuff to do this evening,” Gabe said as his face went hot.
“Suit yourself,” the woman quipped with the smallest of smirks on her face. “What did you want to ask me?”
“I was mostly wondering what you were doing for water. Do you have a generator?”
“Don’t I wish?” she said. “No, we have a thousand-gallon tank that the well pumped full. It’s up on the hill behind the house, and it gravity-feeds the water into here. We’re being very careful with it because when it’s gone, I don’t know what we’ll do. I guess we’ll have to get water out of the pond and filter it or something.”
“I see,” Gabe said. “How long do you think it’ll last?”
“Well, Robby and I are trying to limit ourselves to ten gallons a day, but the chickens have to have water, too. I figure we have about six weeks’ worth.”
“Hmmm.”
“Why? What are you doing?” she asked.
“I caught a bunch of rainwater yesterday. I have gutters on my shed, and they fill some water barrels. Of course, I don’t have anywhere near a thousand gallons.”
“That’s a good idea.”
“I was thinking about what else we might need if this thing doesn’t get better real soon,” Gabe said.
“Like what?”
“Like food and fuel.”
“I was thinking about that, too,” Jane said, looking him right in the eye. Gabe had never noticed that hers were hazel. He quickly looked back down at the tomatoes he was slicing. A man could lose a fingertip watching those eyes.
“I figure we’ll have enough eggs to feed an army,” she continued, “and we can butcher some of the chickens to eat, too. Your garden can grow lots of vegetables, and I could can some of them to get us through the winter. I’ll need some lids for the jars, but I have everything else. I don’t know how long the fish will hold up in the pond, but we can eat fish as long as they do. Do you know much about hunting? My ex-husband used to hunt deer some. At least, he used to go. He almost never got anything. I think it was more of an excuse to go off and be a worthless drunk without me nagging him to get a job.”
Gabe’s head snapped around at the words “worthless drunk.” Jane noticed his reaction, and immediately her face turned crimson. Gabe tried to act as if nothing happened and went back to chopping the carrots she’d set in front of him.
“The deer hunting around here isn’t the best,” he said. “There are a few, but not too many. If people start to hunt them hard, they could decimate the herd in short order. What we have a lot of are feral hogs, though. I play hell keeping them out of the garden at times. I shot a few when we first moved out here, and if you cook them right, they’re as good as venison. We also have lots of rabbits and squirrels. A boy with a .22 rifle could keep the whole neighborhood in meat.”
“Well, I guess that’s good news.”
“Does Robby have a .22?”
“No. He’s been asking me for one, but I don’t know anything about guns, and I was scared to let him have one without getting some proper training,” she said. “Could you teach him how to shoot and be safe? I’d feel a lot better about him having one then.”
“I guess I could.”
“Thanks. Although it really doesn’t matter, I suppose,” Jane said. “Even if we could find a place to buy one, Robby’s dad hasn’t sent any child support in over four months, and with the farmers’ market shut down, I spent almost all the money I had at the store the other day.”
“Well, maybe the supermarket will buy some of your eggs and my produce,” Gabe said. “Why don’t we drive into town tomorrow and see? Even if they don’t, I have a little cash at my place. We can buy some more staples and some gas if we can get any.”
Jane looked at him and smiled. “It’s a date.”
Gabe dropped the knife as if it were blistering hot. “I have to go,” he muttered quickly.
“I’m sorry, Gabriel,” Jane said. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
Only Hannah had called him Gabriel. It was like a second dagger in his heart.
“I know. I just have to go check on some things,” Gabe said as he hurried out the door. From his truck, he could see Jane in the doorway, rubbing her hands on a dish towel as if she was debating what to do. Gabe turned the key and pumped the accelerator. It seemed to him he’d cranked the engine forever, but it wouldn’t catch. Worried that he might overheat the starter motor, he let go of the key. He saw her take a step toward the truck. His heart jumped into his throat, and he couldn’t swallow it back down. He mashed the gas pedal all the way to the floor and bumped the starter again. Thankfully, the truck roared to life. Gabe shoved the shifter into reverse and dumped the clutch. He could see Jane looking at him, and he gave a quick wave as he backed out onto the road.
When he got home, he grabbed for the bottle. It was still where he left it when she’d made him go to the store with them. He realized she’d stopped him from drinking for a few days, and now she’d driven him right back to the bottle. He poured four fingers of the amber numbness. Picking up the glass, he rolled it between his thumb and fingers.
What had scared him? Was it the fact that another human being saw him as more than just a worthless drunk? Or was it more? Could it be that, for a day or two, he’d actually believed that he wasn’t worthless? Well, there was little doubt that he’d disappoint whoever believed in him before long. He always had, and he always would.
CHAPTER 11
DJ didn’t like being out in the daylight like this. There were too many things that could go wrong. Besides that, his quad was leaving visible tracks in the muddy road. That’s how the vagabond had found him and probably how the rednecks had followed him, as well. He had to find a place where he could hide for the rest of the day, preferably a place that would also protect him from the rain.
He drove down the road slowly, looking for a place to hole up and keeping a sharp eye out for trouble. Finally he spotted an open pasture with
an old lean-to in the corner that might have been used for cattle or horses in the past. It was fenced off from the road, but there was a gate. DJ pulled up to the gate and saw that it was locked with an old rusty chain and padlock. He smiled. He had a way to deal with this situation.
He got his bolt cutters and used them on the chain, opposite the lock. Opening the gate, he pulled his quad into the barn and positioned it so that it wouldn’t be visible from the road. Opening the small storage under the front rack, he removed a black zip tie. He walked back to the gate and saw that his quad had left some tracks. The rain would probably wash them out before long, but he couldn’t take a chance.
Spotting a small tree growing along the fence line not too far from the gate, DJ broke off a medium-sized branch and used the leaf side to wipe out all the tread marks between the road and the gate. Then he closed the gate and used the zip tie to reattach the chain into its previous position. Unless a person looked hard, even if he was unlocking the gate, he’d never know that the chain had been cut. This was a procedure he’d intended to use as he went down the pipeline easement. DJ smiled at his own ingenuity.
After the gate and lock were returned as closely as possible to the condition in which he’d found them, he picked up the branch and rubbed out all of the tracks leading to the small barn. Some of the ruts were deep, and he used his boots to smooth out the gumbolike mud and then wiped out his tracks with the branch. Once back to the weathered structure, he surveyed his handiwork. It wasn’t perfect, but it was very good. The rain would finish up the job in less than an hour with the way it was coming down. DJ tossed the limb beside his quad.
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