She walks in holding a towel over her hand.
“What happened? I rush to her side and lift off the towel. A long bloody scratch runs up the face of her hand.
“Thunder, the big black cat, took a swipe at me. I’ll live, just need to put some antibiotic ointment on it.”
“Where’s your first aid kit?”
“Under the kitchen sink.”
“I’ll get it.” I fumble under the sink moving stuff around. “Hey Shell, is it the tackle box?”
“Yeah.” She lets out a determined sigh. “You know, I can do this myself.”
“I know, but we’re a team now. I need to take care of my partner.”
She lets out a snort, “Oh God, you aren’t a hoverer, are you?”
“Nope. But in the Marines, I learned to be responsible for my team mates.” I point at her. “You’re now my team mate.”
“Team Mates.” She snickers and rolls her eyes at me.
After fixing her hand, Shelley takes me on a tour to show me what she’s done.
First stop, the blue house across the street.
“This house belonged to the Henderson family. They must have gone to the hospital because the house was empty except for Bruno, their basset hound. They left a large bag of dog food ripped open on the floor and several water bowls for him. When I found him, all the food and water were gone. He was starving and thirsty, poor thing. I knew I couldn’t let him run free. He would die out there. That’s when I came up with the dog house idea.”
She stops and touches a child’s drawing hung on the refrigerator. “They had three kids. The youngest was a little blonde-haired cutie named Angela.” She sighs, “So Sad. I’m sure they’re gone now.”
I squeeze her shoulder. “It really is.”
She leads me into the master bedroom and points at the bed. “Hank, pull up the mattress and look underneath.”
I do as she asks and find a hollowed-out box spring filled with food and supplies. “Shelley, you’re a genius.”
“Oh, stop it.” She blushes and waves me off. With a proud smile on her face, she tells me, “Every house I show you has a hiding cache of supplies. I learned never to put everything in one place. This way if someone raids us, they don’t wipe us out.”
“Damn, girl. You’re smart. Hidden caches. Boy, did I luck out when you found me.”
“Yep.”
My brain starts to go wild with ideas. “You know, we should have two get-out-of-dodge cars. Have them fully packed and ready to roll. Gas. Supplies. Clothes. Everything we need to make an escape. We should park them at two different locations. If the shit hits the fan, we double our odds of making it out.”
She beams and slaps my arm. “Hey, that’s a great idea. And we should hide the keys on the vehicles.”
I touch the end of her nose. “Bingo.”
The Henderson’s back yard has a kidney shaped pool with a cover secured in place. I guess with three little ones, they wanted to make sure they were safe.
Shelley opens a cooler sitting next to the pool and pulls out a testing kit. As she takes a water sample, she tells me, “I chose this pool to use as drinking water because of the cover. It keeps it clean and helps maintain the correct chlorine balance.”
“Is it safe to drink?”
She adds several drops of something into her test sample and shakes it up. “As long as we filter and boil it, yes. I also plan on maintaining the correct chlorine level and watch for algae growth.” She holds the sample up against a chemical guide sheet. “Right now, it doesn’t need anything.”
I can’t help but notice the sad look on Shelley’s face as she opens the door to the next house. “This was Levi’s.”
There’s a lingering odor of death. “Smells in here.”
“Yeah, I air it out at least twice a week, but I don’t think the smell will ever truly go away,”
She starts to chuckle. “He was a funny one. His sister, Ruth, lived right across the street, but he never went to her house. She always visited him over here or at my place. One time I asked him why, and his answer was ‘Ghosts’.”
“Some people really believe that stuff.”
“Yeah they do.” She sighs as she runs her hand over the kitchen counter.
“They were special to you, huh.”
“Yeah, I loved Ruth and Levi. I miss them.”
Every wall is covered in family photos and the side tables are loaded with knickknacks and books. Shelley picks up a picture off the piano and runs her finger across it. “Levi’s two daughters,” and hands it to me.
It is a photo of two men dressed in olive green military uniforms with their arms around two blonde women who look almost identical. There’s an Israeli flag in the back ground. “Twins?”
“Yeah, twins; Hannah and Esther. The girls went to Israel to do a semester abroad their second year of college. They both fell in love with Israeli men and decided to stay there.”
“Was Levi a widower?”
“Yeah, he lost his wife, Naomi, to cancer when the girls were fifteen. I asked him why he didn’t go live with the girls in Israel. He told me he would never leave Ruth here alone. She lost her husband many years ago in a car accident.”
“Sounds like they needed you, too.”
“Yeah.” A tear runs down her cheek. “I miss them. From the minute I moved in, they treated me like a daughter. I loved them.”
I want to take her in my arms and comfort her, but I stop myself. I don’t want to scare her off by moving too quickly. I settle for rubbing my hand lightly down her back. “Oh Shell, I’m sorry.”
Giving off a huge sob, she turns into me and puts her head on my chest, accepting my comfort. Surprised, but happy, I wrap my arms around her. She feels good in my arms. After a few seconds, she stiffens and steps out of my embrace, her face streaked with tears. “I’m sorry for being an emotional baby.”
“Hey, you’re not a baby, it’s tough losing people you love, especially like this.”
Placing the picture down on the end table, she adds. “He was seventy-nine. He had a good long life. So, did Ruth.”
Shelley leads me to the sofa in the den and starts to tilt it over. “The cache is under here.”
“Let me help you.” I grab the other end and help tilt it on its back. The sofa has a cloth panel around the bottom that hides a good two feet of space between the bottom of the cushions and the floor. Supplies neatly fill the space. “Great hiding place.”
After we place the sofa back, she heads down the hall and out into the backyard. I follow right behind. She points at the pool. “This one we’ll use for watering the garden, filling our buckets for the toilet and to wash dishes. Stuff like that.”
There’s an old-fashioned clothesline strung between two trees with a black bra and several panties pinned on it. I can’t help myself, I pull a man prank. Clearing my throat to get her attention, I flick the pair of black lace panties with my fingers. The action sets her dainties swinging on the line. I wiggle my eyebrows. “These yours?”
Her face turns scarlet, even her cute pixie ears. “Yes. And before you ask, I’m not doing your damn laundry.”
I enjoy the first full belly laugh I’ve had in a long time. “No problem, I’ll wash my own clothes.”
Next is the Garcia’s, the only two-story house on the block. With my hands over my eyes to block the sun’s glare, I look up at the roof. “Good place for an overwatch.”
She giggles. “I know what that is. We can see the whole neighborhood from there. Too bad we don’t have night vision goggles.”
“Maybe we can find some, you never know.”
“Come on.” She opens a side gate and leads me around back to the pool area. “This one is for bathing. It gets the most direct sun and will stay warmer longer.”
“So, you say I can bathe? Like jump in the pool, wash my hair and everything?”
She shakes her head no and points to the side of the garage where she’s jerry rigged a shower out of solar water ba
gs, a bucket and some old plumbing pieces. “We’ll wash and rinse here then finish in the pool. That way the pool water stays clean.”
“Smart idea. You know, I have no idea how to take care of a pool. You’ll need to teach me.”
“Oh, not to worry, I will.”
We enter the house through the garage. A white Dodge Caravan is parked inside. She pats its hood. “This will be perfect if we have to bug-out. It has a full tank of gas. I found the keys in the kitchen.”
“Good idea. But, we’ll need to pick up gas additive to add to the tanks. It will keep the gas from going bad.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “I know that. It’s on my list of things to get.”
Wow, she’s sensitive. She hates when I make suggestions. I better lighten it up a bit. Bending at the waist, I bow like I’m greeting royalty. “I apologize for doubting your wisdom, my Prepper Queen.”
Her face hardens, and she rolls her eyes, then without warning, breaks out in a laugh. “Okay, okay, I admit it, I’m touchy on the subject.”
My turn to roll my eyes. “Duh, you think!”
“I know you’re trying to help. I’ll curb my attitude.”
“Thanks. I’m just trying to be a team player, you know.”
She crosses her heart. “I’ll be better, I promise.”
The house’s kitchen looks like one you’d find in a designer magazine. It has professional grade appliances and a huge island with a sink and in-drawer microwave. A greenhouse window full of plants runs the length of one wall of cabinets.
Shelley picks up one of the plants. “Herbs. Too bad I don’t know how to cook with them.”
“So, you’re an eat out, microwave kinda girl?”
“Something like that. I can cook, but not fancy stuff.”
“I think the days of fancy are long gone. Besides, I don’t like gourmet.”
“Good, because we’re having canned spaghetti for dinner.”
“Yum.”
“Chef Boyardee.”
I laugh. “Even better. Beats MREs.”
She points up the stairs. “The cache is in the kid’s bedroom, under the wooden planks of the bunk beds.”
A series of loud bangs has us looking around.
“What was that?” She whispers and takes a step closer to me.
“Gun shots.”
She grabs my hand. “Come on.” She runs us upstairs to one of the front windows. Since she got there first, she stands in front and I stand behind her looking over her shoulder. She looks both ways down the street. “I don’t see anything. How far away do you think they were?”
“Hard to tell. But pretty close.”
The next sound we hear is barking off in the distance. “They riled up your friends.”
“Yeah.” She leans back against my chest. “Should we be worried?”
Her closeness gets to me. I put my chin on top of her head. “I think we need to consider them hostile until we know for sure. The best thing we can do is stay out of sight since we don’t have any weapons.”
“That should be priority one then. Get guns. But, I have no idea where to get any. We can’t even look it up on the internet.”
“How about an old-fashioned phone book?”
She jumps away from the window and out of my arms. Clapping her hands together, she says excitedly, “Levi’s garage. I saw some phone books on his work bench.”
With both an old white pages and yellow pages in hand, we go back to her house and plan our shopping spree.
Chapter Six
Shelley
It’s one o’clock in the morning and I can’t sleep. I’m worried about everything. The gun shots spooked me. What if the shooters find us? What if they’re a gang who are looking for people to enslave? Maybe we should bug-out. Leave Los Angeles. Go find a farm somewhere in the country. Or a rustic cabin in the woods. There would be less chance of gangs out there, but then again, less resources, too. No stores full of food. No pharmacies. Less supplies in general. Sure, we could grow our own food. Have cows and chickens. Hunt. But we’d have to learn how to run a farm and how to hunt first. We’d probably starve during the learning curve.
And what about Hank? It’s only been one day and I’m already using we instead of me. Yes, he’s cute, funny, nice and smart and nothing like Joe. Plus, I trust him.
Tomorrow, we’re taking the Dodge Caravan because it will hold more stuff than my car or his jeep. What if we run into the guys with the guns? Can Hank stop them? He is a Marine, I’m sure he’s trained in hand to hand combat. I hope it doesn’t come to that.
Four a.m.
“Wake up sleepy head.” Hank waves a mug of coffee under my nose like smelling salts.
Shocked, I grab my blanket and blurt out, “What are you doing in my room?”
He chuckles as he places his flashlight down on the floor. “I’m not some perverted creepster, Shelley, I just came to wake you up.”
“Sorry, I know that. I just have to get used to having you in my house.”
“Would you rather me not come in here? He asks in a quiet deep voice.
“No, I’m sorry, I overreacted.” I groan as I push myself up against my pillows and grab the mug out of his hand. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” He sits on the edge of my bed with his own cup of coffee.
I take a big sip. It’s perfect, just the way I like it. “I can’t believe its four already. Did you sleep okay in the guest room?”
He shakes his head. “To be honest, the bed was comfortable, but I was too worked up to sleep much.”
I snicker, “Me, neither. I tried but ended up getting up and writing in my journal for a while.”
“You mean your diary.” He smirks and takes a loud slurp of coffee.
I open my mouth and eyes real wide as if his words astonish me and smack his arm. “Grown women call them journals, dork.”
Raising to his feet, he moves the flashlight to my dresser. “Well, grown woman, get your ass out of bed. I want to be out of here in twenty minutes.”
“Day two and he’s already giving orders.” I grumble and give him a mock salute.
“Damn straight. Now get that pretty ass up.”
Throwing the blankets back, I jump out of bed and wiggle my pajama covered butt. “You think my ass is pretty?”
He looks away and even though I can’t see it, I think he’s blushing. “Maybe.”
“Well good, because I think yours is handsome.”
We both laugh. I hold my flashlight up to my face and stick my tongue out at him. “Now go and close the door so I can get ready.”
Before we leave, Hank grabs a screwdriver and takes out the brake lights and unscrews the dome lights inside the van. “We want to stay as stealth as possible. I’ll drive with the headlights off, too.”
All I do is nod and give thanks he’s with me. I never would have thought about that.
This is the first time I’ve been outside the neighborhood. I’m trying hard not to let my nervousness show and hope he doesn’t spot my trembling hands.
No such luck, he notices. He’s too damn observant. Slipping his arm around the back of my seat, he assures me, “Shell, it’s gonna be okay. We can do this.”
“You sure?”
Running his hand down the back of my hair, he adds, “Yeah. I know we can.”
“Okay, I’m gonna believe you.” I straighten my shoulders, shake out my hands and fasten my seatbelt. “Let’s do this.”
Since I know the streets, Hank drives, and I act as co-pilot and navigator. Thankfully, we’re able to use side streets most of the way to our first stop; Valley Gun Shop. We drive by one of the many hospitals in the area and the putrid smell has us both gagging. “Drive faster. I’m gonna be sick.”
Hank steps on the gas. “You got it.” After a few blocks, he looks over at me. “Please, pick another way home.”
“Don’t worry, I will.”
The shop is in an industrial park near the railroad tracks on the other side of town.
We chose this specific gun store because it has an indoor firing range. We’re hoping it’s sound proof, that way I can learn how to use the guns Hank picks out.
Hank pulls through the empty parking lot and around to the back of the building before stopping the van. “Change places with me, keep the engine running and be ready to drive off if things go south.”
I whisper, “Okay.” and climb into the driver’s seat as soon as he’s out of the van.
“Remember, leave it running, Shell. I’m gonna scout the perimeter of the building. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
With his crowbar in hand and his back against the building, he works his way down the wall and slips around the corner. I say a little prayer. “Please, let him be safe.”
The sun is starting to rise in the east and there’s just enough light to scout out our surroundings. There’s a large garbage bin full of cardboard boxes sitting next to a wooden loading dock. The bin partially blocks the wooden steps leading up to the dock and the backdoor. A rusty chain link fence topped with barbed wire runs the full length of the property. I wonder if Hank noticed that there’s only one way in or out of this parking lot?
Within minutes, Hank appears at the far corner of the building. He checks the garbage bin and then takes the stairs up to the back door before coming back to the van.
With a frown on his face, he climbs in the passenger seat. “Coast is clear but we’re never getting through the back door. It’s made of heavy steel. We’re gonna need to go try the bars in the front.”
“Okay, let’s try the front.”
A frustrating hour later we give up.
Hank groans, “Fuck! We’ll need a blowtorch to get through these damn bars or some C4.”
I gave him a knowing smile. “Remember the wrought iron place we passed a few blocks back? I bet they have blowtorches.”
He fist-bumps me. “Yeah, they would. Lucky for us, I know how to use one. I helped my Uncle Ned in his metal shop during the summers when I was in high school.”
We grab our stuff and head back to the van. “Let’s go get one.”
Hank smiles when he sees that even though Javier’s Wrought Ironwork’s glass door is covered by a metal grate, the rest of the store front is windows. “Piece of cake.”
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