Rick paused for a few seconds. Fresh tears began to fill his eyes.
“He shot him, Dad. He pointed the barrel at his head, and just, just, he’s dead.”
Chad helped his son back to his feet, then addressed both the boys.
“We’re leaving Boise,” he said. “I want you both to grab your shotguns and as many shells as will fit in your pockets. Then I want you to pack up the last of our canned food in your backpacks. When you’ve packed, I want you to cut through the alley and go down the creek bank. Walk in the creek until you get to the bridge where it flows into the river. Wait for me there. I’m going to the Dunns’ to get your mom, and we’ll get Grammy and Pops and meet you at the bridge. Avoid the roads. Don’t talk to anybody. Hide under the bridge until we get there.”
Without waiting for his boys to respond, Chad opened the front door, took a last look around, and quickly stepped into the afternoon sunshine.
27
AUSTIN, TEXAS
10:45 P.M., APRIL 23
“HELLO?” IS ANYBODY THERE?”
In her basement, Debbie didn’t move, didn’t even breathe.
“Hello?” It was a man’s voice. “We’re hungry and thirsty. We haven’t eaten in three days. Is somebody in there? Can you help us?”
The door handle jiggled. Debbie heard a second voice, a woman’s. “Maybe there’s no one in there.”
“I know I heard someone talking. Please, we mean you no harm. We just need some water and a little food. We came in because we saw the dog on the porch. We’re not with the gangs. We’ve been hiding in our root cellar and only coming out at night. There’s no food or water left to find. Please, I know you’re in there.”
“Mom, what is it?” Jake said.
“Shhhhh!” Debbie hissed.
“Please.” It was the man again, his voice insistent, as if he was on the verge of tears. “Please. I know you’re in there, I heard you. Please, in God’s name, help us. If you could just spare a little food and water, we’ll leave you alone. I promise we don’t want any trouble.”
Debbie didn’t know what to do. The man seemed sincere and truly desperate. They had enough supplies to help them. But was it safe to open the door?
“My name is Travis Ferrell, and my wife is Stephanie. We pastored New Life Fellowship on Montgomery Street. We haven’t seen anybody in over two weeks, and we haven’t talked to another person in over two months, since the gangs took everyone.”
Debbie had visited New Life church when they first moved to Austin, but didn’t remember the pastor. The man seemed to be telling the truth, and sounded like he really did need help. What to do?
She said a quick prayer and spoke to the man through the door. “I’ll help you, but I’m warning you, we’re armed. I will not hesitate to shoot you if I feel you mean to bring us harm.”
“Praise God,” sighed Stephanie Ferrell.
Debbie grabbed one of the three shotguns leaning in the corner, a Remington 870 Express, and loudly chambered a round. “I’m going to unlock the door,” she said, “but don’t come in till I tell you. Do you understand? If you try to enter before I tell you it’s okay, I’ll shoot you.”
“Yes,” the man said. “Yes, we understand, thank you so much. God will bless you for this.”
Debbie grabbed several candles and lit them. She placed them on the floor in a semicircle around the doorway, then grabbed Jake’s 20-gauge and held it out to him.
“Jake, if they come through that door before I tell them it’s okay, you need to shoot. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mom.” Jake grabbed hold of his shotgun with trembling fingers.
“We’ve practiced this,” Debbie said. “You know what to do. Just point and squeeze the trigger like Uncle Nirsch taught you. Don’t be scared. I need you to be brave now. Can you do that for me?”
“I’m ready, Mom.”
Debbie shouted through the door. “Stand back! I’m going to unlatch the door. When I tell you, you can open the door, but don’t come in unless I say so. You got it?”
“Yes,” the Ferrells answered in unison.
“Get back in the corner, Jake. Stay in the shadows.”
Jake retreated, raised his shotgun, and clicked the safety off.
Debbie grabbed some dried meat, fruit, and a gallon of water, and placed it in a cloth bag on the floor just in front of the door. She unlatched the door and backed into a dark corner.
“All right,” she said. “Slowly open the door, but don’t come in yet.”
The doorknob turned. On squeaky hinges, the door slowly swung open.
Debbie couldn’t hold back the gasp that escaped her lips. Travis and Stephanie Ferrell looked like the walking dead. Their cheeks were sunken in. Their arms had virtually no muscle on them. It looked like just a thin layer of skin separated their bones from the outside air. They reminded Debbie of the pictures she’d seen the year before when her uncle had taken her to the Holocaust Museum in D.C. Debbie couldn’t tell how old they were, but she could tell they needed help. A shudder passed through her. She quickly shook it off.
“There’s some food and water on the floor just inside the door,” she said. “I want Stephanie to come in and grab it, and take it back into the stairwell. Just Stephanie. If Travis comes in, we will shoot. If Stephanie tries to come in any further than the food, we will shoot. Do it slowly.”
Stephanie took a tentative step toward the food. She was like a wild animal approaching a human for the first time. She reached out with skeletal fingers and grasped the bag and water. She backed out the door in a crouch and handed the bag to her husband.
Debbie spoke again. “Now slowly reach up, close the door, and step back.”
Travis did as he was told. Debbie rushed over, bolted the door, and slammed the bar back into place.
Jake came out of the shadows and stood at his mother’s side. No one spoke for several minutes. Debbie could hear moans and slurping sounds coming through the door. It sounded like a pack of hyenas devouring a wildebeest.
When the sounds of feasting quieted, Debbie spoke. “What do you know about everything that’s happened, and how did you survive this long?”
“We don’t know much of anything.” Travis answered. “When the power went out, we thought it was just a blackout. We live on a quiet street without much traffic, so we didn’t hear or see anything unusual. That night, we noticed a strong smell, like something electrical was burning. We searched the whole house and couldn’t find anything, so we went to bed. We went out the next day and tried to start the car to run some errands. It wouldn’t run or even turn over. The battery was completely dead. I grabbed my cell phone to call AAA and the power wouldn’t come on. I thought I’d forgotten to charge it. I got Stephanie’s phone and tried it—also dead. Then I started to worry.
“I went to several neighbors’ houses, and no one was home. Several of their front doors were standing open. I went back to our house for Stephanie. We took our bicycles out of the garage and pedaled toward town. When we reached the main road, we knew something had happened. There were cars crashed everywhere and dead people scattered around. We didn’t see anyone alive. We panicked and rode home as fast as we could. We locked ourselves in the house and prayed.
“After three days, we started to hear gunfire, and occasionally we saw people going in and out of our neighbors’ houses. It was by God’s grace no one tried to get into our house. It was as if God had created a shield around our house. After a week, more people came into our neighborhood, some carrying guns. We saw several arguments, and several people get shot. They were just lying where they’d died. No one came, no police. No one seemed to care about anyone else. It was then that I decided to hide in the cellar. We were out of bottled water by then, and the food was growing scarce. We took what little food we had and drained the hot water heater. This gave us fifteen gallons of water. We moved our bicycles, spare clothes, a butcher knife from the kitchen, and our food and water into the cellar. We bolted the door beh
ind us. After another two weeks, we were out of water and food again, so we decided to go out at night and see what we could find. There was no food to be found anywhere. Every cupboard in every house was completely empty. Our house had been broken into and ransacked.”
“They broke everything,” Stephanie interrupted. “They even broke my great grandmother’s bone china,” she choked out through a sob.
Travis continued. “The water was a little easier to find. Most hot water heaters were still full. We had to start roaming further and further each night in search of food. We managed to catch a few rodents, and even gave in to eating people’s cats and dogs when we came across them.”
Debbie gagged a little. “You said something earlier about the gangs,” she said. “What did you mean?”
“One evening about a month ago,” Travis said, “we rode toward the mall hoping to find food other than rodent or housecat. We came off Revere Avenue and heard several shots. Men were shouting in Spanish and women and children were screaming. We ducked behind a wrecked Fed-Ex truck and peered around the corner. Several well-armed Mexican men were on horseback in a doctor’s office parking lot, standing over the bodies of several white men. Two other Mexicans on the ground were raping a redheaded girl about fourteen or fifteen, while several of their companions looked on and laughed. I started to get up to help her, but Stephanie grabbed my arm and held me down. She said there was nothing I could do, and she was right. I would have been killed, and they would have taken Stephanie.
“When the men had finished their ‘fun,’ they tied a long rope around the women’s necks, bound their hands, and shot the youngest children. They led the women off into the night. We could hear their sobs from between the buildings long after they’d gone out of sight. I assume they were taking them as slaves. We saw the gangs a few more times, but we always managed to hide from them. This is the first night we’ve been in this neighborhood. We thought about giving up a few times, but that’s not who we are.”
No one spoke for a few minutes. It gave Debbie time to think. Should they take these people with them? Would they be a burden or a help? Could they really trust them? It would be nice to have adults to talk to and fellowship with.
Uncle Nirsch would take them in. With that thought, Debbie knew she would ask them to come along with them.
Travis broke the silence. “Thank you for the food. We pray that you are blessed for it. Now we will leave you alone and go back home as promised.”
Debbie walked over to the door and reached for the latch. Jake looked at her questioningly.
“Mom?”
“It’s okay, honey, go wait in the corner again. I’m going to talk to these folks. “Debbie removed the bar and opened the door. “You’re welcome to come in. We can’t let you leave with no extra food and water.”
The Ferrells slowly stepped through the door.
“Are you still hungry?” Debbie said.
“A little,” Travis said.
“Jake, get the Ferrells some peanut butter and crackers.”
The Ferrells polished off a half jar of peanut butter and two sleeves of crackers before they came up for air.
“You get enough?”
“Yes, thank you,” Travis said. “I’d forgotten how good peanut butter tasted.”
“Jake and I are leaving Austin tonight. You’re welcome to come with us. I know it won’t be an easy trip, but Austin is used up. There’s nothing left, and with the gangs you’ve seen, I don’t feel like it’s safe here anymore. My aunt and uncle have a ranch in Seneca, Oregon, and I know we could have a good life there. We’re going to travel at night until we get outside the city a ways.”
Debbie paused to allow the Ferrells time to respond. Stephanie spoke first.
“We wouldn’t want to be a burden. I don’t know what we could contribute. We aren’t fighters, we don’t have any food or water to add, we—”
Debbie cut her off. “Can you talk?”
“Yes but what does—”
Debbie held her hand up. “Can you pray? Can you wash a dish, help keep watch? If you answer yes to any of these questions, you become a valuable member of the team.”
Stephanie looked at her husband and shrugged. Travis also shrugged and turned to Debbie. “We’re in!”
Stephanie rushed over and threw her arms around Debbie. Tears flowed down both of the gaunt woman’s cheeks. “Thank you so much,” she said. “We’ve been praying for this moment.”
“So have we,” Debbie said with a smile.
Travis turned away as if uncomfortable with all the hugging and blubbering going on. He spotted the boy in the corner.
“Well, Jake,” he said, “looks like we’re going to be friends.” He walked over and held out his hand. Jake shook it. “Wow, you’re strong,” Travis said. “What a grip!”
Travis pulled his hand back, wiggled his fingers, and made a face like he was in pain. Jake laughed.
Debbie smiled. It felt so good to hear her son laugh again. It had been too long.
“I hate to get back to serious matters,” she said, “but we need to leave if we’re gonna get out of the city by daylight. Do you guys need time to go back and get anything?”
“There’s nothing there for us anymore,” Travis said. “We have our bikes and the clothes on our back. Now we have friends. What more could we ask for?”
“Do you know how to shoot, Travis?”
“I’m not really too familiar with guns. I don’t have anything against them, but I’ve always been a little afraid of them.”
“I have a feeling you’re going to have learn soon. What about you, Stephanie?”
Debbie handed Stephanie a 9 millimeter Beretta. Debbie’s mouth dropped open when Stephanie released the clip, checked the load, slammed the clip back home, chambered a round, and held it at her side.
Stephanie looked up and giggled, her sunken cheeks turning bright red. “My dad was a cop,” she said. “I started shooting when I was old enough to eat solid food.”
“Well, I guess you can teach Travis along the way.” Debbie handed Stephanie a holster for the Beretta. Then she put her hand on Jake’s shoulder and spoke in a soothing tone. “Honey, we’re going to head out now, and you’re going to see some scary stuff. But I need you to be brave. Stay close to me and don’t talk. We have to be quiet so the bad guys don’t find us. If anything happens, I want you to ride back the way we came fast, and hide. Then wait there till Mommy or one of the Ferrells comes and gets you. Do you understand?”
“Sure, Mom. I won’t be scared though. I’m not a baby anymore. I am in third grade, you know.”
“I know. You’re practically grown up.”
“Mom, will we get to be out in the sunshine? I really want to see the sun and the blue sky more than anything.”
“We will, buddy,” Debbie said. “We just have to travel at night until we’re far away from the bad guys. Two or three days and we should be able to ride during the day.”
“Then let’s go, Mom. The sooner we go, the sooner I see the sun.”
“Okay, buddy, let’s do it.”
They grabbed their gear and all the food and water that would fit in Debbie’s bike trailer and headed into the warm, south Texas night.
28
NIRSCHELL RANCH
WEDNESDAY, MAY 6
ADAM BURST THROUGH THE FRONT DOOR, SLAMMING IT BEhind him. “Mom, Dad, somebody’s coming up the driveway!”
Nirsch grabbed his binoculars and ran to an upstairs bedroom window. Pat Hanson was riding up the driveway with three men on horseback that Nirsch didn’t recognize. He hurried downstairs and was waiting for them when they got to the porch. Pat dismounted.
“Good morning, Nirsch. This is my cousin, Chad Ellison, and his sons, Rick and Earl. They rode in from Boise last night. We need to talk to you. What we have to say should be said in front of Bill and Larry as well.”
“All right, come on in,” Nirsch said. “Michelle just made a fresh pot of coffee.”
&nb
sp; He led them into the living room. They all shook hands and took seats as Michelle brought everyone steaming mugs of coffee. Chad Ellison nearly collapsed into his chair. His brown hair was heavy with grease and in need of a good cut. Clumps of the stuff were stuck to his full beard. He reminded Nirsch of an old painting of the mountain man Jim Bridger that had hung in his grandfather’s hunting room. Rick and Earl didn’t have near the facial hair growth as their father. Rick’s was blond and barely visible, while Earl’s darker stubble grew in random patches. Nirsch figured neither could be much older than fifteen or sixteen.
Nirsch sent Adam to fetch Bill and Larry. When everyone was seated and plied with caffeine, Nirsch asked Chad to tell him about Boise.
Ellison leaned forward and rubbed his bushy chin.
“Boise is under siege,” he said. “People are being forced to give up their possessions, and no one is allowed out of the city. Some people have started ta—”
Nirsch held his hand up. “Slow down a bit,” he said, “and start at the beginning.”
Ellison took a deep breath and started over. “When the power went out, it was total chaos. Thousands of people died the first twenty-four hours. Within a week, there was no food, and we were hearing reports of people actually eating other people. A sickness moved through the city, quickly wiping out at least a third of the remaining population. We locked ourselves in the house for weeks. When things started to calm down and people’s desperation began to give way to defeat, we ventured out. Most folks had given up. There was no more fighting in the streets. Everyone just sat around waiting to die.
“A few days later, a group of farmers pulled into town in wagons loaded with vegetables and butchered livestock. They distributed all of it to the people. Even though it didn’t last long, people’s spirits began to rise. They started to gain a little hope. Soon, people began clearing away the bodies and burning them. Anyone who showed signs of sickness was quarantined at the lumber mill. The people of Boise began to create a whole new economic system. It wasn’t perfect, but people were surviving. The mayor,” Ellison briefly scowled, “he took charge of all un-owned food and other supplies, and allowed people to barter for things. A makeshift government was set up. The mayor and several police officers started to establish some order. They opened the prison, cleared out the dead former inmates, and used it to start locking away the most violent among us. The sickness began to decline. There were a few cases reported here and there, but those afflicted were quickly removed from the public.
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