by L. L. Akers
Was Jenny the same…er…intelligence as Puck? If she was, these kids shouldn’t be left alone. If Olivia was there, she’d insist on taking care of them until their mother returned.
“Do you and Jenny want to come stay with me until your mama gets home?”
Puck dragged his enormous boot through the dirt and looked down. He whistled with his head hung low, seeming to forget Grayson and Ozzie were even there. Soon he tugged his too-big britches up until his ankles were showing, paying no mind to Grayson or his question.
Grayson ducked his head down and looked up into Puck’s face. “It’s okay. I have a girl about your age myself. She’s away at college right now though. You can trust me.”
Puck frantically shook his head. “Mama Dee wouldn’t like that. And Jenny doesn’t like strangers. I need to stay home.”
“I could meet her. Then I wouldn’t be a stranger, right? My name’s Grayson, by the way.” He stuck his hand out in greeting, only for it to hang there empty.
Puck shrugged and screwed up his lips, looking away. He was obviously avoiding the suggestion to meet Jenny, and the handshake. Then, as though just remembering, he exclaimed, “She’s hungry. Mama Dee was bringing Jenny some food too. Spose’d to anyway.”
Jenny wasn’t the only one hungry. He could hear Puck’s stomach growling. He doubted the boy could cook, and apparently neither could Jenny. “Why were you up in that tree?”
“I like trees. People don’t see me up there. Usually. I was looking for Mama Dee cuz I can see far up there. But the mean boys,” Puck’s lip quivered. “They wanted Jenny’s food.”
“Where’d you get that food?”
“I borrowed it. Jenny’s hungry.”
Grayson scratched his head, still surprised at the childlike responses coming from the young man. No wonder the boys were chasing him. He was worried about them coming back too, even though apparently Puck was the thief. Did they know Puck lived right down that dirt road next to where they were standing?
“Listen, kid. You can’t take things that don’t belong to you. That’s stealing.”
Puck hung his head and Grayson realized he was crying again.
Oh hell.
Grayson reached out and patted Puck’s back, only to be surprised at the kid flinching. He stepped back to give him some room. “Hey now. It’s okay. But don’t do it again, huh? How about you ride over to the house with me, and I’ll cook you and Jenny some hamburgers on the grill. Something to hold you over until your mama gets home.”
Puck pursed his lips and looked up at the sky. He swiped the tears off his cheeks. Finally, he answered, “I’d really like that. Do you have a pickle? Mama Dee gives me a pickle with my burger. But I’m not s’posed to be talking to strangers. Or going to someone’s house.”
He looked back up into the sky, leaving his mouth hanging open a moment. Then suddenly blurted out, “Maybe I can just stay outside so Mama Dee don’t get mad? Jenny won’t eat a burger. So just for me.”
“She doesn’t like hamburgers? How about a hot dog then?”
“No meat. Meat makes Jenny throw up.” Puck beamed as though he’d answered a million-dollar trivia question. He held up the sack of salad stuff like a trophy, seemingly not ashamed of his theft after all. “This is for her.”
“Meat makes her sick? Is she pregnant?”
Puck squeezed his eyebrows together and shrugged.
“Is she going to have a baby?” Grayson further explained.
Puck screwed up his face in disgust. “I don’t think so.”
Jenny sounded like a heap of trouble. Probably one of those millennial vegetarians or something. Graysie had brought a friend home a month ago that said she was ‘vegan,’ and had nearly drove him and Olivia both up a wall. Their family was big on meat. But Grayson felt sure he could come up with something more filling than a salad.
“Come on, then. Get in the truck. I’ll make you both something.”
Puck hooted and hollered and ran to the truck, jumping in the back in a single leap, into the truck bed where he sat against the cab and grabbed the side. He tightly held on and yelled, “Ready, Mister Gray Man.” He squeezed his eyes shut and grinned, as though about to take off on a carnival ride.
Grayson sighed and smiled. This kid was weird. Mr. Gray Man? He ran his hand over his mustache and goatee. Maybe it was time to let Graysie get creative with some hair dye. And riding in the back wasn’t exactly safe—or legal—nowadays.
Hell, it was only a few miles home, he could ride in the back. Why not? What’s the worst that could happen in two miles?
11
The Ladies
Gabby glared at Olivia in disbelief, her eyes nearly bugging out of her head.
“Are you serious? You left your bag at home? What were you thinking? Did Grayson know you were leaving it? I thought he’d told all of us to never, ever leave without it? So, you’re exempt, because, why?”
Olivia raised her shoulders up around her ears, and closed her eyes. “I know. I’m an idiot. I swear, this is the only time I’ve ever taken it out of my car. Grayson has no idea. But I didn’t have room for all of our luggage, and three more bags. I threw mine and Emma’s out in the garage when you guys were in the house. And… I hit my head,” she whined, hoping to use her injury again against Gabby’s wrath.
“Emma’s too?” Gabby shook her head. “And the bleeding stopped. You’ll live. We’ll work on it in the car—with my first aid kit from my bag. This really makes me mad, Olivia. You should know the one time you leave it, Murphy’s Law, is the one time you need it. I can’t believe you left both of them. Seriously?”
Emma calmly stepped between her older sisters. “Hey, what’s done is done. We’ve still got one. We’ll be fine. Besides, we’re not walking. Home is only four hours away, maybe a little more with all the stalled cars on the road. But as long as we’re riding, we shouldn’t even need the bags. There’s not time to fight now, we need to get to Larry’s car before he changes his mind and leaves us.”
Gabby sucked in a breath and held it for a moment, willing herself to calm down. Emma was right, there was no use being mad at Olivia. They couldn’t change the fact that they now had only one bag with one gun. And a small bag at that. She didn’t know what was in it, but couldn’t be much. They’d just have to make do with what they had. They were probably luckier than most of the people in this tourist town, she doubted many carried a Get-Home bag at all. Now they just needed a way to carry all this other stuff. Emma and Olivia could each hold a bag on their lap, if they had one. She studied the huge pile on the bed.
“Emma, you sort this stuff. We can’t take it all. We need the water, the phones, one hat each, one clean shirt each, a pair of socks each—pack three pair even though Olivia doesn’t have shoes—and any jewelry or valuables we have here. Also, get our wallets, my Chap Stick, and sunglasses for all of us. Roll the clothes tight to make more room. Olivia, you need to take real sneakers, not flip-flops. Hurry. I’ll make us a something to carry it all in.”
If only they could have a do-over. In a situation like this may be, they needed all their guns. She wished they’d listened to Grayson and started carrying concealed on their person or in their purses. And she wished they’d all brought sturdier pants; a pair of jeans at least. All they had were shorts, dresses and bikinis.
Olivia cringed. “I didn’t bring any sneakers. All I have are flip-flops and sandals.”
Omigod. This can’t get any worse. Gabby ran her hands over her face and shook her head. Ignoring Olivia, she snatched the scissors out of her make-up case and grabbed the largest T-shirt in the pile. Probably a workout shirt, or sleep-shirt.
She laid it flat on the other bed and cut off the sleeves, going in further than the seam, turning the T-shirt into a tank-top. She cut the collar out of the middle, making it more of a deep scoop-neck-tee, turned it inside-out and cut thin strips four to five inches long across the bottom of the shirt, fringing it, and finally tied the knots together, two at a t
ime. She finished the entire row across the bottom of the shirt, and then started from the other side tying knots again to the knot next to it until the bottom was double-secure. She flipped the shirt right-side out and held it up.
“A tote-bag! Where’d you learn to do that?” Emma grabbed it and shoved as much of the new pile that would fit into it. The newly-cut shoulder straps made perfect handles.
“Pinterest.” Gabby hurried to make one more, finishing in minutes and stuffing it with the rest of the pile. “Now come on, we’ve got to go!”
The girls rushed out of the room, looking over their shoulders at all they were leaving behind. All their stuff; sandals, clothes, books, hair products and equipment, three little black dresses hanging in the tiny open closet, bought for a night out; and most of it was new, bought just for this trip. It was painful to leave it. As Gabby looked at the scattered strappy heels and wedged sandals slung across the floor, she wished she’d brought an extra pair of sneakers for Olivia.
And Olivia would wish she had as well, before it was all over.
12
Jake
Jake jumped off his bike and into the fray—into a blur of fists and elbows flying.
He couldn’t make out who was fighting who, or who was trying to break up the fight. It was a bloody, sweaty pack of middle-aged, angry men.
Wives were screaming. Kids were backed up against the brick drive-way wall, quivering in fear at seeing their daddies fight. Babies were crying. It was mayhem and chaos.
Normally, he was a laid-back guy, but under the circumstances, he threw his own weight into pulling the guys off one-by-one and slinging them onto the ground. With the help of Kenny—who really wasn’t much help at all—and a few of the other neighbors who until Jake arrived had been standing back out of the fight, he managed to break it up.
“What…the hell…is going on?” he yelled at the crowd, huffing and puffing through his words.
Tucker may have been the nicest guy there, but he was probably the one guy in the ‘hood that Jake wouldn’t ever want to go up against. He was lean and ripped with muscles and heavy into mixed martial arts, having several black belts in some type of Kung Fu stuff. Right now, he was spittin’ mad. He swiped his arm across his red, sweaty face and stared daggers at Curt, the HOA president.
Seeing Tucker angry was a rare sight. Tucker was a happy-go-lucky sort of guy who was the life of Tullymore. He and his wife, Katie, hosted most of the neighborhood functions, since the HOA couldn’t pull their heads out of their asses and organize anything. Katie was a phenomenal cook and a good friend to nearly everyone. The couple was very well-liked. But Tucker and Curt were sworn enemies; they just both rubbed each other wrong, no matter what the situation.
Tucker pointed at Curt. “This asshole thinks he’s the king of this subdivision. He came to get water out of my pool, without asking, and brought all his friends.” Tucker’s face was blood-red. The ones willing to go up against Tucker in this fight were probably regretting it about now. Curt huddled on the ground cradling one arm. Other guys, the typical HOA crowd, all stood bleeding and hurt, too.
Jake almost smirked. Good thing he and Tucker were friends.
He shook his head. “Y’all need to go on home now. It’s only been a few days. I don’t know why you think it’s okay to come on someone’s property and take anything, but it’s not. Things aren’t that bad, and I hope they never are. Besides that, we’ve been without power a few days before, so I don’t know why y’all are losing your minds over it.”
He picked his bike up and threw a leg over.
“Wait, Jake,” Curt, the HOA president yelled. “Where are you going?”
He bristled at being questioned by Curt. He didn’t owe these people an explanation and resented being put on the spot. “I’m going to pick up a part for my truck,” he answered anyway, always needing to keep the peace.
Curt dragged himself to his feet and puffed his chest up. Short and squatty, with his face so red, he looked like a fire plug. “The power’s been out a few days before, but never the cell service and internet and the power, all at the same time. We can’t get any real news from anywhere. We’re cut off from everything. But CNN talked about cyber-attacks the night before the lights went out and other stations have been talking about it since before the election. Your president has provoked China, Russia, Korea and just about every other country. I think this is war.”
Curt just had to get his stab in at Trump.
“No, our president just isn’t taking shit from anyone anymore. He’s making America great again!” someone in the crowd yelled out.
The group began to scream at each other again. Several ladies were silently crying. So this is what had been talked about in the few days he’d been holed up at home. They were probably right about this being different. Jake couldn’t remember a time all three services were knocked out at once. The world had been slowly going crazy. Maybe this was the big event Grayson had warned about.
“That doesn’t mean all hell has to break loose here.”
Curt continued, “All hell has broken loose everywhere. Some of us have been to town. There’s no more gas, no more food, and people have lost their minds, shooting at each other over the last of everything. It’s not safe to leave the neighborhood, even if we could.”
“Then stay here and stop fighting. Wait for it to all blow over,” Jake suggested. “It’s not the end of the world. At least I don’t think it is…” He pushed his bike further up the driveway, hoping to get away. The last thing Jake needed was more drama.
Kenny, his annoying next-door neighbor, waved a hand at the crowd behind him. “Wait. You live here too. Before you leave, can you vote or something? We need to settle this now.”
“Vote on what?”
Kenny, normally a passive, but at times whiny guy, glanced at Tucker worriedly before answering. “The swimming pools. There’s a lot of us nearly out of water, but there’s two pools in the subdivision. Curt says these people should share it with everyone else.”
The crowd came alive with comments, and mumblings, soon erupting into outbursts. At this rate, they’d be swinging fists again.
It was all too much. He couldn’t care less about the damn water. His head was throbbing, and in spite of the beautiful weather, he was breaking out in a cold sweat. “Hey!” he screamed. “Y’all shut up!”
That shocked the crowd. No one had ever heard or seen Jake get riled up, which was why they sent Kenny to get him at the first sign of trouble. He was always one of the most level-headed in the neighborhood—not to mention he didn’t really belong to either side of the constantly-fighting divisions. Jake had earned everyone’s respect with his normally quiet demeanor and willingness to always help out a neighbor, and not pick a side.
“It doesn’t make a difference to me. I’m not taking sides, if that’s what y’all are asking me to do. Work it out.”
Tucker stepped up to speak quietly to Jake. “Hey, Jake, wait a minute. Look, we need you man. These people here don’t have a clue what to do in a situation like this and tempers are flaring. We need to work together, but you know Curt’s not going to listen to a word I have to say. I don’t mind sharing our water, but not like this. I’m not having him in charge. He’s clueless. You’ve been doing this prepping stuff with your family—we’ve talked about it. So, you know more than probably anyone. Can you spare a few minutes to just get us started? People will listen to you.”
Jake sighed. Tucker rarely asked Jake for anything. As far as Jake knew, Tucker and his family had nowhere else to go, they were transplants here. Their family was out of state. If the power didn’t come back on—if this truly was a shit hit the fan event—he’d feel awful leaving Tucker and Katie and the kids behind anyway. The least he could do was give them his two cents.
Still, he didn’t want to get involved. He needed to run his errands and get on the road to the farm. The longer he waited, the worse his leg was going to be hurting him, and it was going to be a l
ong ride. He slowly shook his head. He wasn’t sticking around.
Tucker put his hand on Jake’s shoulder. “Look, I saw you limping. You really going to ride that bike all the way to town to get your part? You’ll be miserable. You won’t make it there and back before dark tonight.”
Jake nodded miserably. “I know.”
“I’ll make you a deal. If you stick around a little while—an hour at the most—and help me herd these cats, I’ll let you borrow my four-wheeler ATV to go get your part.”
Oh hell yeah.
Jake was in. He needed more than a part, but both stops were near each other. He really didn’t want to pedal that far. “You talked me into it.”
He stepped off his bike and faced the crowd, crossing his arms. “Okay, what all have y’all done so far? Assuming the power isn’t coming on for a while. Have you stocked up the water and cooked all your food?”
Nothing but blank stares answered him.
He nodded and did some quick thinking through the waves of his worsening headache. He wasn’t up for a nasty debate, as their neighborhood meetings usually devolved into. He’d give them the quick and dirty version and then be on his way.
“First thing, leave Tucker’s pool alone. Y’all got more water than you think you do at your own houses. Maybe even enough to last until the power comes back on. So, if you haven’t already done it, drain your pipes. Use any pot or pan or container you have and fill them up. There’s somewhere around sixty houses in Tullymore, right? With sixty, having at least one water heater each that can be drained, that’s a fifty-gallon heater x 60 houses = 3,000 gallons of available drinking water. The city has already treated it with chemicals in their process, so it should stay good for a pretty long while. The main supply lines from under the houses can also be taken loose and all the water sitting in the lines throughout the house could be caught in buckets, jars, bottles or anything that will hold it. I would have to think that there would be at least four or five more gallons in a typical house in just the pipes alone. Be careful with it. If the power doesn’t come back on, you’re going to need every drop. When you’re done with all that, turn off the main water and sewer connections at the street.”