But Randy couldn’t be swayed, and one by one they departed his company.
Randy was smitten with Sarah from the start. She was beautiful and sweet and shared his sense of humor.
But he wouldn’t let himself presume she’d behave any differently than the others.
And that was okay. He knew he couldn’t expect a woman whose biological clock was ticking to wait for him. It wouldn’t be fair for him to even ask. That was why he never really dated seriously.
On the other hand, though, Sarah seemed like quite a catch. There was nothing wrong with becoming friends and having fun together until she chose to sever the ties or found someone else.
So on this particular day, even as he was finding his friends and checking on their welfare, he couldn’t get Sarah out of his mind.
He wanted to find her. He wanted to get to know her better. He wanted to kiss her and taste her sweet lips, and to see what other things they might explore together.
The problem was the telephones weren’t working anymore. And telephone directories didn’t list cell phone numbers.
He had no way of finding her, save a couple of clues she’d mentioned in passing that night at the bar.
That she worked at a restaurant called Sammie’s a few blocks from the bar.
That she was a Texas Tech student, but lived off campus.
And that she lived close enough to both places to walk when the weather was nice.
It was a good thing Randy wasn’t afraid of a challenge.
Chapter 11
Randy started his search at the most logical place and hoped he got lucky.
Sammie’s was an Italian restaurant with a tiny stage and a piano bar. On Friday and Saturday nights it featured a man named Mike who did a decent cover of Frank Sinatra and Tony Bennett.
But it catered to a younger crowd. Nine out of ten of the bar’s patrons couldn’t have picked out either Frank or Tony from a photo lineup.
But the easy melody of the songs provided a great alternative to the hard rock and hip-hop played at other area bars.
Randy wasn’t surprised to see a handwritten sign on the restaurant’s front door that said, “CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.”
Still, there was a chance a manager was there boxing up payroll records. Or a janitor was there sweeping up the place in the semi-darkness.
More likely a bouncer guarding what was left of the liquor and food from looters.
He knocked loudly on the heavy wooden door once, twice, three times. All the while he knew the place was probably empty despite his hopes. It was a warm day, and if someone were inside the building surely they’d have propped open the doors and windows.
Otherwise it would be stifling.
He went around to the back of the building, to a door which obviously led to the kitchen.
A different sign adorned this door. A sign which read, “ALL DELIVERIES HERE.”
Again, there was no response to his knocking.
For a brief moment, he thought of canvassing the neighborhood, much as he was doing on his duty days. In the process, he could check up on the citizens there, and make sure they were doing okay.
But then he thought better of it. Major Shultz was right. If he didn’t take a break from that every few days he’d get sloppy and burned out. And besides, Ranger Pete Meadors lived in this neighborhood. Pete was already going door to door and offering his services.
Lastly, canvassing the neighborhood was a time-intensive endeavor. If he spent one day out of five going door to door in this neighborhood it could take weeks or months to knock on the right door.
And he didn’t want to wait that long.
For the truth was, the hour and a half he’d spent with Sarah had made a powerful impression on him. He felt a bond already. He wanted to strike while the iron was hot, before the memory of her faded. And perhaps before she had time to forget him and cozy up to someone else.
He looked at his watch. It was just after noon. The rest of the Rangers in his company would be sitting on the steps of the federal building, being briefed by Major Shultz.
He worried about the city he loved. It seemed that every day brought more despair. At the previous muster, two days before, a representative from the mayor’s office briefed the men that suicides were skyrocketing. People were running out of essentials such as water and food. And instead of getting out for more they were simply taking their own lives.
Randy wondered why someone would be so scared of being robbed they’d just give up on life. He suspected it was more than merely running out of provisions. Word had gotten around that once the stores were out of food, the harsh new world would grow infinitely harsher. The word was that the stores would start running out around Christmas or so.
In Lubbock, that was about the time winter really set in.
Many people were reasoning, perhaps rightly so, that the real crisis hadn’t even begun yet. That as bad as it was, most of the survivors would perish once the winter arrived. When the food was all gone and it was too cold to grow more.
Perhaps the people who were killing themselves and their own families saw the writing on the wall. Perhaps they were taking the easy way out now, at the end of a gun, rather than scratch out a miserable and meager living only to starve to death in the winter.
Randy wasn’t sure what he could do to sway them. But he’d darn sure try.
He mounted up on Trigger, a tall Morgan he’d had since high school, and rode slowly west on Broadway Avenue toward the Texas Tech University administration building.
Chapter 12
It was rather surreal, visiting his alma mater for the first time since the blackout. The grassy areas on part of the campus were sectioned off with yellow “caution” tape and divided into plots roughly fifty feet square.
Homemade signs, using Sharpies and white copy paper, were taped to wooden stakes driven into the ground.
On each sign was written the name of a professor and his subject:
SWENSON: Economics
MARTINEZ: Psychology
BATES: Pol Science
They reminded Randy of the tiny cubicles shoved together in neat rows in a modern office building. These cubicles were larger, though. Large enough to accommodate a classroom of students. Some featured chairs lined up in neat rows.
Others had similar chairs not in rows at all, but rather set up haphazardly. Like a shotgun blast deposited them there.
Several professors were teaching classes as best they could under the circumstances.
But it seemed the university’s efforts to continue business as usual were a bit too optimistic.
For none of the makeshift classrooms had more than half a dozen students actively participating.
As Randy rode through the campus to the administration building he marveled to see the majority of the students milling about in the doorways of semi-darkened buildings, or lying on blankets in the grass. Some appeared to be sleeping, though most of them socialized.
There appeared to be an atmosphere of calm. Or maybe it was a sense of resignation. There wasn’t much they could do to better their situation. So perhaps they’d just accepted it. Perhaps they’d just commiserate together and ride out the storm, hoping somehow someone would find a way to make things whole again.
In the meantime, it seemed that very few of them saw a need to continue their studies in a new world where they doubted a degree would do them much good.
Perhaps the ones in the makeshift classrooms were the smart ones, though. At least they had something to occupy their minds for a bit. Something to think about besides the gloom and doom that was driving many of their classmates into depression.
And many others into doing the unfathomable.
A group of girls approached Randy as he dismounted.
One asked, “Are you a cop?”
“I’m a Texas Ranger. Why?”
“You just looked like one, that’s all. Are you here to arrest somebody?”
Randy smiled and said, �
��No. Are you volunteering?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Can you guarantee me three hot meals a day and a safe place to sleep?”
“Not anymore. Sorry.”
One of her friends spoke up.
“Forget going to jail. I’ll go home with you if you want.”
Randy looked at her and asked, “Now why would you want to do that? You don’t even know me.”
“I could get to know you. Because there’s nothing for me here anymore. That’s why. There’s nothing to do, no way of going anywhere. No way of knowing if my family back home is safe, or even alive anymore…”
She stopped talking and her eyes began to tear.
“Where’s home?”
“Bryan, Texas. South of Austin.”
Randy whistled.
“That’s a long way.”
“No shit, Sherlock.”
“I’ll tell you what, Miss. You can’t come home with me, but I’ll see if I can get a message to your family if you want.”
The first girl looked at her friend and said, “Did he just call you Miss?”
Randy smiled again and said, “Sorry. Habit.”
He turned back to the girl and said, “We have a working radio so we can communicate with Texas Ranger HQ in Austin. If you want, I can call in some favors and ask someone there to contact your family.”
She wasn’t sure if he was serious. In recent days, men had offered to help her in a variety of ways. Usually with nefarious intent.
But then again, she’d already suggested that Randy take her home for his very own and he’d turned her down. Could this be the only decent man left in Lubbock?
“Um… okay.”
Randy pulled out his tiny notepad and pen.
“Okay. Let’s start with your name.”
“Amy Stephens.”
“And your parents’ names?”
“Ted and Susan Stephens.”
“And their address?”
“1055 Oregon Trail, in Bryan.”
“Okay. And what message would you like to send to them?”
“Just tell them I’m okay. But I’m lonely and bored, and I miss them all. Tell them I’ll find a way to get home, even if I have to screw a Texas Ranger so he’ll take me there on horseback.”
He gave her a look, but he wasn’t angry. He was sympathetic to her plight, but not happy that she’d be willing to tarnish the reputation of the Texas Rangers so easily.
“How about we leave that last part out?”
“Sorry.”
“I’ll give this to my commander when I see him again the day after tomorrow. I’m pretty sure he’ll send it to Austin over our radio. And I’m also pretty sure they can get the word to one of our Rangers in Bryan.”
“Thank you.”
“No thanks needed. This was an easy one.”
“I owe you a big one, if you ever need… anything.”
“There is one thing I’d like.”
Amy smiled broadly. Maybe he was going to take her home after all.
“Name it.”
“I’m going in to do some business with the Admin people. Would you mind watching my horse for me while I’m in there?”
Amy was equal parts disappointed and relieved. Disappointed that the tall cowboy seemingly had no interest in her. And relieved that he was indeed a decent man.
“Sure.”
“And I can trust you not to steal it?”
“Yes. You can trust me not to steal it.”
“Thank you, Amy. I’ll be back out in a bit.”
Chapter 13
The Administration Building was a stately structure built in 1923. Other than extensions added to its east and west wings in the 1960s, it was still pretty much in its original condition, well maintained and almost regal.
All the windows were opened to allow air to circulate throughout the building, the blinds all drawn to let in light.
He was greeted by a sweet little old lady who reminded him of his grandmother.
“My, you’re a tall one, aren’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am. So I’m told.”
“Did you know you look just like James Arness?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ve been told that a time or two also.”
“He was also very tall. When I was your age I never missed an episode of Gunsmoke. I fancied him. I wanted him to come to Lubbock and sweep me off my feet. Of course, a lot of my friends did as well.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’m afraid we’re pretty limited on what we can do these days, but I’ll try my best to help you if I can. What can I do for you, young man?”
“I certainly hope you can help me. I’m trying to locate a woman. All I know is her name. And that she’s one of your students.”
“Is this official business or a personal matter?”
“Pardon me, ma’am?”
“You’re a policeman, are you not?”
“Not quite, ma’am. I’m a Texas Ranger.”
She smiled, pleased that she read him as a lawman.
He was curious, and asked, “But how did you know I was in law enforcement?”
“You all carry yourself a certain way. You have an air of confidence. It’s an admirable trait.”
“To answer your question, this is a personal matter. I met her just before the power went out. We talked about meeting again, but never had the chance. I’d just like to find her to make sure she’s okay.”
She seemed satisfied with his answer.
“Actually, I’d help you either way. It’s just that if it’s a police matter we have certain forms we have to fill out, and the campus police have to sign off on the request. I was hoping it wasn’t a police matter, because the forms are a pain in the ass.”
He smiled at her choice of words. She looked astonishingly like a school marm or a librarian. Maybe a church lady. Certainly not one he’d expect to use slightly salty language.
But he liked her immediately.
She continued, “You see, we no longer have paper copies of the forms. They’re all computerized now. And of course our computers are all fried. So the best we can do is try to remember what the forms looked like when the computers still worked. What information was required on each form, and who was required to sign it. And we’re logging all that information on legal pads, in the hopes it can someday be logged into our data base.
“Or transferred onto the blank forms if we can ever get any somehow.”
“That does sound like a pain. I’ll apologize in advance for putting you through so much trouble.”
“Oh, I don’t mind doing it for anyone who comes in here looking like James Arness.”
He smiled again. And maybe blushed just a tiny bit.
“I’m Amanda Curry. I’m the former Chief of Admissions and Classifications. I say former because I haven’t got a clue what’s going to happen in the future, or whether I still have a job. I just walk up here every day because I have nothing else to do, and because I’m the only one of my old staff who lives close enough to commute by foot.”
“It’s nice to make your acquaintance, Ms. Curry. I’m Randy Maloney, an investigator with Ranger Company C.”
“Please, call me Amanda. When you call me Ms. Curry you make me feel old.”
“Very well, Amanda. And thank you for agreeing to help me. But…”
“But what?”
“But… if all your records were computerized, you probably don’t have the means to help me.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. We’ll have to see. Now then, what’s the name of the lucky girl you’re looking for?”
“Sarah. Sarah Anna Speer.”
She savored the name: “Sarah Anna Speer…”
“Do you know her?”
“No. I’m afraid not. But I know a lot of people who might. Did you see our message boards in the south courtyard?”
“No, ma’am. I came in through your north entryway.”
“Follow me.”
Chapter 14
Randy
dutifully followed her out of her office and into a courtyard on the south side of the building. And what he saw there amazed him.
The parking lot had been completely cleared of vehicles, and replaced by dozens of full-sized sheets of plywood, placed on their sides in neat rows.
The boards were propped up by frames built from two-by-fours, and were marked with spray-painted letters of the alphabet.
They were covered with four by six inch index cards, containing messages to friends, faculty and relatives.
“Wow,” Randy observed. “This is pretty impressive.”
“The hardest part was clearing the parking lot,” Amanda said. “It helped to have dozens of strong young college men who were unable to attend classes and also unable to do any of the other things college men used to do to occupy the time.
“They were able to put some of the cars in neutral and roll them out of the way. For a lot of the cars, though, their transmissions were locked and wouldn’t go into neutral.”
“So how did they move those?”
“One of the football coaches went and got several football players. Two players on the bumper, two others on the wheel well. One corner at a time. They lifted up each wheel just high enough to place a piano dolly under it. Then volunteers rolled the cars to another parking lot and took them back off the dollies.”
“Wow, that must have taken some time.”
“Three days, working twenty four hours a day. But college people like big projects, and they volunteered because, like I said, they didn’t have anything else to do.”
“Who built the message boards?”
“The students, under the guidance of the architectural department.”
They walked to the first of the boards, marked with a huge “A” in its upper right corner.
Randy read a few of the messages:
Joe ARISMENDEZ: We’re worried about you. If you read this, come by the apartment and let us know you’re okay.
-Jody and Shelly-
For the friends of Tom ALLEN: It’s Tuesday the 12th. I’m setting out for Oklahoma City to check on my parents. I’m hoping to cover ten miles a day. Please pray for my safe journey.
A Whole New World: Ranger: Book 2 Page 4