A Whole New World: Ranger: Book 2

by Darrell Maloney

  -Tom-

  Stacey ARMSTRONG: I love you. Hang in there and don’t give up.

  -Tony-

  Thomas AGEE: Your mom made it in from Brownfield. She’s looking for you. She’s staying with us. 2308-31st Street.

  -Marty Stephens-

  To the friends of our newest angel, Rachel AYERS: In case you haven’t heard, she has given up and gone to meet her Lord. Please pray for her soul. For the rest of you who might want to do the same, please don’t. We’re strong. We can get through this if we band together and help each other out.

  -Sara-

  For friends of Brenda ACEVEDO. I am okay. If anyone is looking for me, I’m staying with Terri and Sal. 1818 Avenue U, Apartment 204.

  “They’re all using the same format,” Randy observed.

  “Yes, they’re all pretty uniform. I think the first person to post a card used that format and most of the rest just followed suit. You said her last name was Speer?”

  “Yes.”

  “Follow me.”

  They walked through the rows of plywood sheets until they got to the one with the letter “S” painted in its corner.

  There were hundreds of note cards, some overlapping the others.

  “This is gonna take me awhile.”

  Amanda laughed.

  “Oh, this is just the beginning. As the boards are filling up, they’re making new ones. Look on the last row. There’s another ‘S’ board over there as well.”

  Chapter 15

  Randy began poring over the cards, looking for any clue where Sarah might be. For a time Amanda helped him, until a young coed came out of the building and yelled, “Amanda! You have a visitor!”

  Amanda yelled back, “Be there in a minute.”

  She took out a notepad, not unlike the one Randy used, and said, “There’s one more way I might be able to help you. Give me the message you want to pass on to Sarah.”

  “Just tell her I’d like to see her. If she’ll provide her address, I’ll check back here every fifth day.”

  Amanda wrote down his words.

  “And you want to sign it ‘Randy Maloney?’”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Then he realized she might not remember his name.

  “Better sign it ‘Randy, the cowboy from the Bar None’”

  “Okay, done. I’ve got an army of volunteer runners who are going door to door. They’ve got a list of names they’re looking for and messages they’re passing back and forth. If she lives anywhere in this part of town, they’ll find her.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it. These days we’re all looking for things to help keep us busy.”

  “Also, over there on the bench are boxes of index cards and pens and pencils. Make your own note and leave it on the board, in case she comes by to check for her name. I’d recommend you use pencil instead of pen.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “Ink will fade in the sun. Pencil won’t.”

  “Thanks for the tip.”

  “Anytime.”

  She paused, then said, “Say, Randy…”

  “Yes?”

  “Is your father still alive, and does he look like James Arness too?”

  “No, he died years ago. Why?”

  “Oh, just wondering.”

  She winked at him, then turned and left. As she walked away, she called over her shoulder.

  “Good luck. Stop by and check in with me whenever you come back in five days. I’ll let you know if one of my runners found her.”

  “Okay. Will do.”

  Randy spent the better part of two hours looking on both boards.

  He found a couple of possibles, but they weren’t any help.

  For Sarah Anna SPEER: I went by Amy’s apartment looking for you, but she said I just missed you. I still have your ID. I’ll be at Eddies if you want to drop by and pick it up.

  -Tina-

  Sarah SPEER, I’m thinking of walking to Wichita Falls. Isn’t that where your family is, and would you be interested in walking there with me? I’m in Stephens Hall if you’re interested, Room 202.

  -Tony Mendez-

  He finally gave up and scripted his own message.

  Sarah Anna SPEER. I hope you remember me. I’m the Ranger from the Bar None. We met the night before the blackout. I’d like to see you if you’re interested. If you are, write your address on the bottom of this card. I’ll check back in a few days.

  -Randy Maloney-

  Randy had noticed, as he looked through the postings, that many of the messages on the second board were identical to ones on the first board. He assumed the posters wanted to cover all the bases, in case the people they were looking for saw one board but not the other.

  And that made sense.

  He dutifully copied his message, word for word, onto another card, using pencil on both. Then he took two tacks from one of several boxes and placed them, one on each board, at Sarah’s eye level.

  Lastly, he scanned the area, hoping to see her in the hoards of students milling about with not much to do.

  No such luck.

  Slightly dejected, yet oddly slightly optimistic as well, he walked back to the north side of the building.

  Hoping his horse was still there.

  Chapter 16

  Tom looked at the sky as he slowly progressed down 55th Street. It looked like it might rain.

  He still wasn’t used to riding a horse for several hours a day. He’d planned to use his bicycle but one of the tires was flat and he had no kit to patch it with.

  The blisters on his butt were much more painful than the blisters on his feet, so he decided to walk the horse for awhile.

  But he was learning, in some respects.

  He remembered Randy’s warning that pavement and concrete were very hard on a horse’s shins and hooves.

  “Walk them on soft ground whenever you can,” Randy had told him.

  And Tom was doing just that, leading his horse across the front yards of houses, and tying his reins to trees or the rear view mirrors of cars in driveways when he knocked on each door.

  At many of the homes he encountered residents sitting in lawn chairs on their front porches. In the absence of other things to do, or to escape the darkened and stifling interiors of their homes, it had become quite common for neighbors to socialize and commiserate in their front yards.

  As he walked across the front yard of a 1980s-era ranch style home, a man called out from the porch.

  “Hello there, young fella. You’ll get where you’re going much faster if you get on the horse’s back. That’s kinda what they’re for, you know.”

  He chuckled.

  “I know,” Tom said. “But he’s a good horse. He deserves a break now and then. So does my ass.”

  The man laughed out loud.

  “What’s his name?”

  “Buddy.”

  “You interested in selling him?”

  “Well, I might. But my commander might take objection to it.”

  “Your commander? You in the Army? Has the Army returned to its horse cavalry days?”

  “No, sir. I’m a Texas Ranger. We’ve returned to our mounted tradition. At least here in Lubbock.”

  “I didn’t know we had any Rangers in Lubbock.”

  “A lot of people don’t. And there aren’t very many of us.”

  “Well, what are you doing out here? Shouldn’t you be chasing some Indians or something?”

  He chuckled again.

  “Nope. These days we mostly check on people and spread the word.”

  “Spread the word about what?”

  “About the blackout. What’s permissible now and what isn’t. And what to do if anybody needs help.”

  “Do tell…”

  “Yes, sir. For instance, the mayor of Lubbock wants you to know it’s now permissible to take food and drinking water from retail stores or the backs of tractor trailer rigs. As long as you only take a two day supply for you and your family
. The mayor doesn’t want a few families hoarding more than their share so others get cut short.”

  “Okay. Good to know.”

  “Also, we’re coming down hard on anybody who steals from others because they’re too lazy to fetch their own supplies.”

  “Good for you. I hate them looters more than anything. They’re like a plague, they are.”

  “The mayor also wants everyone to take a few seeds from the stores that stock them. Don’t plant anything now, it’s too late in the year. But plant them in the spring, after the last freeze has come and gone. He says there should be enough seeds to feed the city next year, when the processed food starts to run out, if we do it smart and take good care of the crops. And he wants to remind everybody to be sure and set aside plenty of seeds from the crops for the following year.”

  “I never thought about getting seeds. I guess I’d better get on up to the home improvement store and get some before somebody else gets them all.”

  “Please remember to take just your share. Is everybody in your family doing okay?”

  “As well as can be expected, under the circumstances. But it hasn’t been easy. See those two girls over there?”

  He nodded toward the driveway of his home, where two adolescent girls were sitting on the concrete, putting a jigsaw puzzle together.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Mary, she’s twelve, I think. Hannah, she’s ten. We adopted them a couple of days ago. Their dad killed their mom, then shot himself. Three doors down, at 5306, I think. They just took the easy way out, and left their daughters to fend for themselves. Shameful, and a cowardly way to act. They came knocking on our door looking for help. Now they’re part of us, I guess.”

  “Thank you for taking them in, sir.”

  “It was the Christian thing to do. We buried their folks in their back yard and gave them the option of living in their own home. Said we’d come over each day to check on them and bring them food and water if they were more comfortable living there. But they said no, they had no desire to go back in that house again. And hey, that reminds me…”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “What do y’all plan to do with all the bodies? They’re starting to pile up and stink. I know of two other families on this street who’ve already committed suicide and are sitting in their houses rotting. I’m too old to bury all of them.”

  “The mayor and police chief have given us authority to drag the bodies into their back yards and to burn them. If you’ll let me know which houses you’re talking about I’ll take care of that today. And if you want to help us out and do it yourself, feel free. That’ll keep diseases from spreading and it’s a lot easier than digging graves. Just please remember not to burn them near the houses or fences. It’s kinda hard to put out fires since we no longer have a fire department.”

  “Any tips on beating the heat?”

  “Yes, actually. If you don’t mind smelling like pond water.”

  “Ranger, I haven’t showered in almost two weeks now. I couldn’t possibly smell any worse.”

  “Walk down to the nearest pond and bring yourself back a bucket of water. It’s not safe to drink, but it’ll keep you cool.”

  “How so?”

  “Take off your t-shirt and soak it in the water. Then put it back on. It’ll take your breath away at first, but then you’ll be cool as a cucumber for a couple of hours, until it dries out. Then repeat the process.”

  “Thanks for the tip.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Chapter 17

  Tom could tell, as he walked up the steps to 5346-55th Street, that there was a rotting body inside.

  The stench of decomposing flesh was horrific and unmistakable.

  And it was stomach-turning.

  Tom knew he’d wretch as he was dragging the body into the back yard of the house.

  He’d done so twice the previous day.

  Just in case there was someone else in the house, still living, he dutifully rapped on the doorjamb.

  “Peace officer, checking on your well being. Anybody home?”

  There was no answer. He wasn’t surprised. He’d have found it very difficult himself, living in a house with a decaying corpse. Still, some families too frightened to leave their homes might have felt they had no choice.

  As a law enforcement professional for several years, Tom had witnessed some pretty gruesome things.

  And people could endure an awful lot under certain circumstances.

  He knocked and called out one more time just to be sure the house was empty. Then he tried the front door but it was locked.

  He took a baton from his saddlebag and shattered the front window. The stench instantly became ten times worse as the putrid fumes poured out onto the front porch.

  He turned his head and vomited.

  He used the baton to knock free all the pieces of jagged glass still hanging precariously in the window frame, then crawled through the opening.

  He stood just inside the shattered window for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness of the room. Then he walked around the room, unlocking and opening the front door and opening the drapes on all the windows.

  Then he opened all the windows as well.

  The stench was awful. But he’d come prepared. He removed a small tube of Vick’s Vapor Rub from his pocket and smeared a dab beneath each nostril. Then he wrapped a bandana tightly around his nose and mouth.

  The house was stifling hot. The bandana would make it difficult to breathe. But at least it would keep the stench at bay.

  This was the part of his job in the new world which Tom hated the most.

  It was something the Ranger Academy never prepared him for. Something he never thought he’d be forced to do.

  It was keeping him awake at night.

  But it had to be done. And in the absence of anyone else willing or able to do it, it was pretty much up to him.

  Through trial and error he’d learned some things in previous days.

  He used to drag the bodies into the driveways in the front of the houses. He figured that a concrete pad was the best place to burn them without risking the fire spreading to the house or to another structure.

  He’d burn them there, watching over the fire with a bucket full of dirt handy in case the wind picked up and he had to douse the fire.

  Once the fire burned down, he’d make a decision. Either it hadn’t burned the body down to bones and ash and he’d have to douse it and relight it, or his job was done and he could move on to the next house.

  After the third day of burning bodies in such a manner, he abandoned the driveway funeral pyres altogether and shifted his efforts to the back yards.

  He had a couple of reasons.

  Burning bodies in the driveways, in the front yards of city streets, attracted a lot of attention.

  Boys in particular, with their macabre curiosity and the fact they now had little else to do, would gather en masse to watch the bodies burn.

  It unnerved Tom, the spectacle of them holding their noses and making crude jokes about the burning of what was once a fellow human being.

  And also, the winds.

  Tom found that the prevailing winds blew east to west across the city streets. Along the front yards of the houses, where there were few shrubs or trees to block it, the breezes easily blew at a regular five to ten miles an hour.

  The embers which occasionally rose from the burn would catch the breeze and float along, sometimes riding the wind for a hundred feet or so before depositing themselves into the dry grass of somebody else’s front yard.

  Tom frequently had to leave his burn to run two or three houses away to stomp out a still-smoking ember and avoid starting a brush fire. With no fire department to put out a fire, and a slight breeze to spread it, Tom could inadvertently burn down several blocks of houses.

  The back yards, by contrast, had very little wind. The wind there was blocked by privacy fences, tall trees, and utility sheds.

  It
was a much safer place to burn a body, as long as said body was dragged out to the center of the yard and was closely watched.

  And from there it could be burned without being cheered on by neighborhood boys with more time on their hands than respect in their hearts.

  The victim in this particular house was a man, probably in his late thirties, although it was hard to tell since his body was blackened by decay. He still held a .38 revolver in his hand.

  Tom removed the weapon and put it aside. He’d place it in his saddlebag before he left and turn it into the Lubbock Police Armory when he had the chance.

  Then he upended the easy chair the body sat in, rolling the body onto the carpeted floor.

  Another lesson he’d learned in recent days was not to drag a body unless it was very fresh.

  He’d attempted to drag the body of a heavy-set woman to her back yard three days prior.

  But she’d sat rotting too many days, and she weighed more than her joints could handle.

  Her left arm separated from the rest of her body and came off in Tom’s hands.

  It made a gruesome task even more so.

  He now made a practice of looking around and finding a sturdy bed sheet or blanket. In this case he was able to find an intricate patchwork quilt. Probably made once upon a time by somebody’s grandmother.

  Probably made with equal parts thread and love.

  A quilt no one would ever have dreamed would be used for the purpose Tom was now using it for.

  He laid the quilt on the living room carpet next to the man’s body, then held his breath as he rolled the body onto it.

  Then he grabbed the quilt with both fists, dragged it out the back door and into the center of the yard, and doused it with gasoline he found in the lawnmower shed.

  The last thing he did before setting the body ablaze was to pray for the soul of a man he never knew, but who he hoped God would forgive for his last deed.