“What do you want?” He yelled through the door.
That startled several of the men on the other side of the door.
“Patty there?”
“Patty who?” Neal asked coyly.
“I know she live here. We need speak her.”
“She doesn’t live here, this is my place. I don’t even have a dog. I don’t like pets.”
“Where she live?”
“I don’t know a Patty. How do you know you have the right place?”
“She lost shoe!” Another one held up a Nike angrily.
“She have live here, only 2 doors we don’t see people .”
“I think you have bad information. Check the stairwell at the other end of the hallway.”
“More than 1 stairwell?”
“Well yeah, there’s one on each side of the building. Maybe the person you are looking for came up one side and then tricked you and went down the other?”
“No trick, she there.”
“I told you, I live alone. I don’t have anyone else living here with me.”
“Neighbor there said she hasn’t seen Patty.” He pointed, he’s features hard to discern. He was of Middle Eastern decent of some sort, his words clipped and hard to decipher.
“I don’t socialize. I don’t like being around people. You guys need to leave.”
“Why leave? Patty hurt me. Whole world different. Great Satan has been brought low, I have my revenge.”
“I don’t know about your revenge, but there isn’t a Patty that lives here,” though true, it wasn’t what the man had been asking.
“Pssst,” Neal turned to see patty step out the bathroom and he looked at her feet.
Sure enough, she’d lost a shoe, but she was pointing towards the window in the bathroom. He didn’t want to turn his back on the door, but he did and walked towards the bathroom. He saw two uniformed police officers walking down the sidewalk, looking up towards the building. Neal ran to the balcony and stepped out the sliding glass doors.
“Hey, I need help up here!”
The policeman looked up and saw Neal’s arms waving frantically.
“What apartment?”
“547, these guys are trying to kick in my door.”
They didn’t say anything else, but took off for the front door at a dead run. The corner of the apartment building prevented him from seeing anything more but when he turned, Patty was standing by the side of his front door, the broom handle in her hands again. By the sound of things, the men were trying to kick in Neal’s door with a fevered pace, the booming sound echoing across the whole apartment. The men surly heard Neal’s call for help and they must have been trying to get in before the cops could get up there.
“She must be here.”
“Maybe she’s in the other door,” a darker skinned man with a slender build hissed.
“I hear someone,” one of them tensed.
Neal backed away from the door as heavy footsteps could be heard rounding the corner. He looked at Patty who shrugged, her eyes wide.
“Police, freeze.”
“GUN.” A new voice shouted.
Gunshots rang just outside the doorway and a heavy thudding and people crying out in pain could be heard outside the door. Neal was shoved aside as Patty looked outside the peephole.
“Two police officers. Three men down hard, one being cuffed, the other one is fighting with the second cop.”
“What did you really do to them?” Neal asked her, in a quiet horrified voice.
He hadn’t bought the story that it was merely a disagreement on religion but he could understand just a passing anger at being kicked. He normally wasn’t a judgmental person but he was now seriously wondering what she had done.
“Police, are you alright in there?” A loud voice asked, free of any accent.
Neal got in front of the peep hole and looked. Blood spattered the wall across from him and two groaning suspects lay face down with the other burly cop holding their handcuffed hands, a knee on each of their lower backs.
“Yes, I’m fine.”
“Is the lady in there with you? The one these guys were looking for?”
“Patty?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“There isn’t a woman living here named Patty,” Neal said, not lying but not giving the information out freely.
“We have to handle this. Everything is messed up right now, no cars, and no radios. We’re going to walk these guys down to the station, we’ll be back after that.
“What about the bodies?” Neal asked, seeing the growing stains on the wood floor of the hallway.
“We’ll figure it out. One of us will be back later to take your statement. If that lady is around, tell her we need to speak to her.”
“Ok, just… don’t leave the dead right outside my door, please?”
“We’ll drag them out of the way.”
“Great, just great,” Neal muttered, running his shaking hands through his hair and sitting down on the couch.
He sat there staring at Patty, wondering if she’d ever get around to answering his earlier question. Her face looked odd to him, and after a moment he realized it was her makeup streaking from the tears. Great silent sobs wracked her body and Neal tensed. He knew she needed comforting but he was scared. It wasn’t that she was a stranger, he’d seen her around when he was moving in. It was the whole contact. The intimacy of the situation. His entire life was spent shutting that side of himself down so he could function, to maintain a status quo with his own warring emotions. Even he couldn’t express them the same way others could, he had them. They were just locked down deep. One last look at Patty, and the small part of himself he was warring with cracked and he stood.
Patty looked up at Neal in fright. She knew he was a quiet man. She’d also heard the rumors that he didn’t socialize, go out or have company. Some rumors from other tenets were less nice than that. It took her one or two conversations with him, brief ones… to realize that Neal just operated differently from other folks, knew instinctively that he wasn’t one who knew how to express himself and was more than likely autistic. She was correct on all accounts, but his sudden movement scared and shocked her as it was unexpected.
She watched him as he slowly made his way to where she was standing and patted her shoulder.
“I’m so sorry Neal. I didn’t want to get you involved in this.” She sobbed again, all the pent up fears coming out in waves.
Neal pulled her close and patted both shoulders, looking at her, hoping it was enough, knowing it wasn’t. Patty buried her head into his chest and pulled his arms around her. She squeezed him in the middle and her body shook as everything came out. Neal stood very still, his heart racing and trying not to panic. When she finally calmed, she headed to the bathroom and blew her nose and wiped the streaked makeup off with tabs of tissue. When she came back out, Neal had fallen asleep on the couch. She sat there in the darkness and eventually moved close to him, letting his warmth comfort her.
+++++
When the police came back, it awoke the both of them and Patty moved quickly away from Neal and checked the peephole.
“It’s the same two cops from before.”
“Let them in,” he said, rubbing his eyes and moving to a chair in the corner, the furthest place away from everyone he could sit in the dark.
“Hi, are you Patty?”
“Yes officer, you are?”
“I’m officer Troy Black; this is my partner Gary Keeton.”
“Thank you for helping us out,” Patty said, closing the door behind them and putting the bars back in place after running all of the locks.
Neal noticed something about her movements right away, she locked the door and barred it without him asking, taking charge of the situation. When he’d awoke, she’d moved away quickly. She wasn’t pushy, but she was taking charge in small subtle ways and he didn’t mind. It saved him from having to get close.
“That’s impressive,” Officer B
lack said, looking at the door.
“Steel cased, steel over wood with extra door barricade bars.” Neal said.
“Wow, I’m not sure if those guys could have gotten through all that.”
“They could have always kicked a hole through the wall,” Neal said softly.
The cops looked at each other, back at Neal then Patty in an inquisitive manner.
“Neal here, he’s, well. He doesn’t get out around a ton of people. He’s a nice guy from what I can tell.”
“You mean, you aren’t together?” Officer Keeton asked.
“No, she’s a neighbor.” Neal said.
“So she was here the whole time when those students were kicking in the door.”
“You said she didn’t live here,” Black said, more of a question than a statement.
He pulled out a notepad and started jotting down notes.
“She doesn’t live here.”
“But she was here?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did you say…”
“Officers, Neal is very literal. No one asked him if I was in here, just if I lived here. He didn’t lie. If I hadn’t dropped my keys in the stairwell, I’d never have involved him.”
“Ok, we’ll get to that in a second, so you reside next door?”
“Yes, apartment 549…”
Chapter 4 –
The Homestead, Kentucky
Duncan wasn’t surprised when Sandra loaded up the squad, requisitioned two of the trucks, one of the trailers and left him in charge. Ever since he’d been confronted, he felt… Relieved? He’d insisted that the squad take two of the hand held radios in case of emergencies, but he wasn’t worried. Time and time again had proven that Blake’s level headedness and his Daughter’s stubborn nature would always keep them safe. He did worry a bit about taking the new squad of ladies with only two days of training, but Sandra argued that this was real life training.
With the large group disposed of, and David not knowing of any others operating in the area he relented and made sure everyone was outfitted with some of the more modern guns they had looted from the slavers. He’d personally gone over and cleaned every M4 carbine and made sure everything was working perfectly before putting them in the pile to be used. The fact that the slavers were so well armed still made his stomach clench when he thought about it, and they had literally dodged the bullet on them.
Somehow, they had been blessed at every opportunity except for his unfortunate gunshot wound, which was healing nicely and the pains in his chest.
“I can still be a teacher and armorer,” he’d told Lisa when she put him on restriction yesterday and resigned himself to easy work. Honestly, he agreed with her.
Truth was, he was in poor shape before the world as they knew it ended, but the survival diet had helped things along, just not fast enough. His blood pressure was winning and the almost 300 pound man pushed his body harder and farther than he’d done in years. The survival diet and added exercise had helped him lose a lot in the past five weeks, but decades of abusing his body were catching up with him fast.
He’d handed Sandra a few of the grenades when Blake wasn’t looking as a ‘just in case’ measure, but he didn’t think they’d need them. The world had gone quiet, with the exception of the nightly broadcasts on the base station radio. None of them had wind up clocks, and when the grid went down, their phones and watches became useless, but the radio broadcast claimed they’d be back at 7pm every night. None of the news was good.
Martial law had been enacted, and except for some basic updates most of the information was looped from the previous day’s news. Everyone was told to stay in place, all travel was restricted, food and medical relief were coming… The United States of America was officially at war but the broadcast didn’t specify with who or what was being done about it. It was malarkey and everyone who listened to it understood it to be what it was. Window dressing that was supposed to make everyone feel better.
“Duncan, I’ve got the list for you,” Weston strode up, handing him a hand drawn list of names.
“Give me the low down.”
“Nine women between the ages of 18 and 65. Seven men aged 27-59, three boys. Chris being the youngest at 6 and the oldest at 14. Five girls ranging from 9 to 14.”
“How many of them were abused by those degenerates?” Duncan growled.
“Most,” he paused and held up a hand as Duncan turned an alarming shade of red, “most of them are actually doing well at the moment. I don’t think you going around and raging will help them any. The good news is that one of the older ladies is a psychologist. She’s been working with all but Sandra’s squad who was kept separate, ever since they were incarcerated in that damned camper.”
“If I could kill them again-“
“Then I would do it,” Bobby joined the conversation.
“How’s your, uh… Lady friend?” Weston asked.
“Melissa? Still going from shocked to being rescued to being a complete mess.”
“Those girls have been through a lot.” Weston told them.
“Yeah, we’re talking a bit, but her dad doesn’t seem to…”
“Dad’s are like that,” Duncan patted him on the shoulder.
“You weren’t… Not with Blake.”
“My daughter, she looks like a pixie, is almost one and a half times your age and can mop the floor with about any man I’d ever met. Blake? I think his laid back attitude is what keeps my daughter in check. They are perfect for each other.”
Bobby groaned out loud.
“What?” Weston asked his brother, jokingly jabbing him in the ribs with an elbow.
“Her dad hates me. I obviously don’t have parental unit approval.”
“She can date when she’s 30.” Somebody from the back of the barracks yelled and everyone busted up laughing.
“Does everyone know?” Bobby asked his older brother.
“That you’ve taken a shine to her? Anyone with eyes.”
They ribbed him for a few more minutes, and Bobby took a 1911 .45 and an M4 and got his camo outer clothing on and headed down the lane, to take watch where Duncan normally sat. Weston had decided to sit on David today instead of his little brother. It was mostly an intimidation factor, as Weston had literally beaten the information out of the former raider once. He’d be more likely to talk to him or behave with the big cop around. One of the men from the rescue group took a 1911 and two extra magazines and followed Weston and David to the house. Duncan looked at the list and tried to decide what was first.
“The children need their schooling,” a matronly woman told him as Duncan sat and studied the list.
“Hi, you’re Eva?” He asked her.
“Yes, I used to be a school teacher, but I’m retired now.”
“I’m Duncan, I’m Sandra’s dad.”
“I know, we all do actually,” she smiled, “I know suddenly you have a lot of new faces here, but I wanted to tell you how much we all appreciate it.”
“Thank you,” he said humbly, “how is everyone, I mean, things were bad. How is everyone doing spiritually?”
“Stronger than you’d think, but needing guidance. If only we had a man of god here…”
Duncan smiled. “Teacher, Armorer and Preacher,” He amended in his head. Even though he had to slow down, he felt good.
+++++
“Ok ladies, you move like this,” Sandra showed them how to move between cover spots.
Soon even Lisa and Blake had gotten the hang of moving from one spot to another, covering each other. It seemed overkill on the deserted looking ranch that made up Martha’s home, with her clinic on the same property. They moved their way to the house, clearing every room and finding nothing wrong. Then they cleared the clinic and surrounding areas on the dirt road going into her property before moving the trucks and trailer in to start loading things up. Everything from scalpels, to catgut stitches to forceps to gauze was loaded. Being so far out in the middle of nowhere, Mar
tha also had her own small pharmacy and everything was lovingly boxed up and packed as well.
They were careful to only load the bed of one of the trucks and part of the caged trailer before Martha called a stop and went inside her house. After a while, Blake and the rest of the ladies stepped inside to check on her. They found Martha in the bathroom, wiping tear streaked eyes with tissue, looking into the mirror.
“My husband died young. He built this place for me, back in the 1990’s. Supported me through school, and now he’s gone. It’s all gone,“ she broke off, as sobs wracked her frame.
Lisa was the closest, and pulled her into a tight embrace, and Martha buried her face in her shoulder, Lisa’s hair covering most of her face.
“It’s time to start over. Everything is different.” Lisa whispered.
“I know. I didn’t think it’d be so hard coming back here. Now, all I want to do is-“
“Martha, we need you,” Sandra said, moving close to Lisa, rubbing the top of her head.
“Why?” She looked up.
“You’re the closest thing to a doctor anybody around here has. We need you, and desperately.”
She sniffed, and wiped her eyes, before slinging her rifle across her shoulder and walking out the door, her shoulders squared, her head held high.
“Do you think she’s going to be ok?” Blake asked Lisa.
“Yes, I just think she was overwhelmed in the moment,” Lisa replied.
“Who wouldn’t be?” Sandra rubbed Blake’s shoulder before exiting the house after Martha.
The squad plus Blake loaded up, the ladies riding in the back of the trucks beds, and held on as the forward momentum rocked them slightly. They were coasting slow, letting the trucks roll in second or third gear to prevent them from being too loud in this now quiet world. Just the sound of the idling motor was loud, but to get on the gas with a perfectly performing muffler, was almost as loud as gunfire.
The World Hungers: A Post-Apocalyptic Story (The World Burns Book 3) Page 3