Stealing Second (The Amendments Book One 1)

by Nicholas Antinozzi

  “My pleasure,” he said. “They’re also welcome to some dessert when they’ve finished eating. You can put it on my check.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “Yes,” said Cathy, “thank you, sir.”

  He smiled and turned to face us. “I’m sorry about coming off like a jackass. These people here, they can tell you I’m a good guy. You’ve got to understand … everything has changed after what happened yesterday. We’ve got to be careful who we trust. Have you people heard the latest?”

  Cathy and I sat back down, and I shook my head. From behind the counter came the sound of sizzling steaks. Kim, our waitress, walked over with three water glasses. “Coffee?” she asked.

  I nodded my head. “Thank you.”

  “Yes, please,” said Cathy. She then turned and swung her legs out of the booth. “We’ve been walking all morning. What have you heard?”

  “The Blue Helmets have arrived,” replied the farmer. “I don’t have to tell you what that means.”

  “Dear God,” moaned Cathy. “Are you sure?”

  “It was on the news this morning,” said Kim, sadly. She was plump and matronly, with snow white hair and a cherub face. She poured our coffee and returned behind the counter.

  “More are arriving by the hour,” continued the farmer. “And they’re landing in every state in the Union. What do you think about that?”

  “I’d say we’re at war,” replied Cathy. “I’m not going to stand for it. What about you?” she asked. “What do you think about that?”

  The farmer smiled and adjusted the toothpick in his mouth. “I’ll shoot the first one of those sons a bitches who steps onto my property. That’s a fact. Excuse my language, ma’am, but nobody is taking my guns.”

  “Blue helmets?” I asked.

  “U.N. soldiers,” said Cathy. “I can’t believe they’re here.”

  “Oh, you’d better believe it,” replied the farmer. “They had it plastered all over the news this morning. They’re in all the major cities and they’re reporting to the commanders of the National Guard. They’re calling it a joint exercise, if you can believe that load of crap.”

  “That’s bullshit,” snapped Cathy. “They have no right to be here. How does everyone else feel about that? We have to stand up to them.”

  Once again, the old farmer got to his feet and stood at the front window. He checked his watch then pointed out at the church. “That’s what we’re planning right now,” he said. “We’re organizing our troops and planning our response. Those foreign bastards aren’t marching into Thistle and taking over our town. No ma’am, not while I’m still holding a gun,” he then pulled out his wallet and removed a single bill. He walked back to the counter and handed it to Kim. “That ought to cover the check,” he said. “Keep the change. Come on, boys. Time to get this show on the road,” he then turned to us. “Good luck to you folks. And God bless each of you.”

  The other men stood up and nodded at us. A moment later, the doorbell tinkled as they walked out into the sunshine. “Thank you!” cried Kim, waving the bill at the men.

  We chatted some more with Kim as we waited for our dinners to be served. The man we had been talking to was named Merle; he owned a dairy farm a few miles from town. “You should have told him you manage a dairy department,” joked Cathy. “If you had mentioned that, I might not have had to pull my gun on him.”

  Kim laughed. “You’re probably right. Merle loves all things dairy.”

  The steaks were rib-eyes, cooked medium, served with piles of tater tots and steaming sides of mixed vegetables. The three of us ate in silence, and the food was delicious. Violet devoured her chicken strips and picked at her fries. Without asking, Kim brought us each a big dish of ice cream. “This is on Merle,” she said. “He and the boys only had coffee and he gave me a hundred bucks. I’ve been waitressing for forty-some years and even with the ice cream, it’s still the biggest tip I’ve ever seen. He’s a good guy, and if he wasn’t married, I’d be on him like a fly on … well, you know what I mean.”

  “Flypaper?” asked Violet.

  “Exactly,” replied Kim.

  “I don’t suppose there’s a hardware store in town?” I asked. “We’ve still got a long road in front of us and I’d like to buy some bicycles. Any chance you know a place where I could find some bikes, is there?”

  Kim smiled. “Mark Seaborg sells used bikes,” she said. “He’s over there in the church. You folks sit tight, I’ll make sure to catch him when he comes out. He lives just up the street and I know he’d sure appreciate the business. I used to be married to his brother, God rest his soul.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “That would be great.”

  “Do you think he might have a helmet?” asked Cathy.

  “I’m sure he does. Mark runs a little shop out of his garage. People come around for miles to have him work on their bicycles. He’s a good man. If I hadn’t married his brother…”

  Cathy and I exchanged a look and we both laughed.

  “Oh dear,” said Kim. “I probably sound like the loneliest woman on the planet.”

  I was just about to speak when a thundering explosion rocked the café on its foundation. The windows burst and the concussion nearly knocked me to the floor. Kim screamed. I looked for her, but she had been knocked off her feet and fell behind the counter. With the echo still ringing in my ears, I staggered to my feet and checked on Cathy and Violet. We had been sitting next to a stout wall and they seemed to be okay. Frank, the cook, was already attending to Kim. I ran to the door. Cathy was right on my heels. We stepped through the ruined door frame and stared into the flames of hell. The beautiful church was gone; it had been replaced by a flaming shell that was already almost unrecognizable. Cathy slapped my arm and pointed to the sky. Overhead, a small aircraft began to bank in our direction. I had never seen a plane that size and shape. It almost appeared to be alien.

  “That’s a drone!” shouted Cathy. “We’ve got to get out of here!”

  I shook my fist in the air. “Those dirty bastards!”

  Cathy was already running back inside the diner. I followed her in and was heartened to see Kim on her feet. She had a few minor cuts, but seemed otherwise to be okay. She was sobbing, hysterically. Frank stood at her side and stared out at the flames that licked up at the blue sky.

  “There’s a drone up there,” Cathy screamed, pointing a finger in the air. “You’ve got to get out of here!”

  Frank looked at her with wild eyes, but both he and Kim stood where they were. I strapped on my pack as Cathy hustled Violet to the door. I grabbed the duffel bags and followed them out. Cathy pointed up to the sky. The drone had passed over its target and seemed to be slowly flying away from the devastation it had caused.

  With Kim sobbing behind us and the crackle of burning wood across the street, we hurried down the cement sidewalk. Thistle’s main drag was eerily deserted, and I imagined that the entire town, save for Kim and Frank, had been killed in the explosion. A single white tennis shoe lay in the middle of the street. Violet stared curiously at what was left of the burning building as we passed. Cathy took her by the hand and hustled her away from the scene. I followed along, unable to think of anything except that we needed to put as much space between ourselves and Thistle as possible; an unbearable stench hung thick in the air.

  Up ahead, a little sign announced Mark’s Bike Shop. Cathy turned to me with a hopeful expression. I nodded my head and we jogged up to the front door of the neatly kept rambler. Like a chrome-plated Christmas wreath, a bicycle wheel hung next to the door. I took a deep breath and rang the bell. I waited and a moment and then started knocking. I hadn’t really expected anyone to answer, but I wanted to go through the motions. I turned to Cathy and shrugged. I then walked down the steps and around the side of the house to the garage. Flowers lined the narrow sidewalk that led to the two-stall garage.

  We walked up to the service door and I tapped on the glass. I waited a few seconds and tried
again. I tried the doorknob and wasn’t surprised to find it unlocked. I turned the knob and pulled open the door. “Hello, Mark?” I called. There was no response, and in the dim light I could see a disappointingly small assortment of bicycles, each in various states of repair. A long work bench was covered in tools and wheels and chains and sprockets. The walls were decorated in similar fashion. I waved Cathy and Violet inside. “Come on,” I said. “Let’s see if we can find something to ride.”

  “I don’t know,” said Cathy. “I don’t feel right about this.”

  “We’re not going to steal anything. I’m going to pay for what we take. I’m sure the guy would understand.”

  “This goes against everything I believe in.”

  I spotted a small bicycle helmet and stepped inside to retrieve it. Cathy and Violet followed me inside. I turned and handed the blue helmet to Cathy. She held it in her hands and stared at it. I could tell she was having second thoughts, but she shrugged her shoulders and set the helmet on top of Violet’s head. The helmet seemed to fit and she nodded her head. We began checking out the bikes, but I could soon see that the few adult-sized bikes in the shop were going to need work. The only bicycles we found in working order were a pair of short BMX bikes and a girl’s bike from another era. The light blue girl’s bike had a banana seat and tall handlebars.

  I spotted a colorful assortment of bungee cords and grabbed a handful. After a brief inspection, we wheeled the bikes out the door and peeled five hundred dollars out of my bankroll and scribbled a quick note. I left the cash on top of the note and closed the door behind me. Using the bungee cords, I strapped the duffel bags to the handlebars of the short BMX bikes and slung on my backpack. Five minutes after we arrived, we were pedaling away down the sidewalk. Behind us, the wail of a siren cut through the air. An elderly couple stood outside of a little white bungalow and wept. I wondered what would happen to them, but I quickly put them out of my mind.

  I felt foolish riding the little bike, as I’m sure Cathy did; but we were soon out of town and as small as they were, they beat walking. The narrow highway followed a creek meandering through small wooded areas and slicing through knee-high fields of corn. We pedaled at a slow but steady pace. Violet seemed to be enjoying herself. I caught her smiling a few times, and I began to suspect that her condition had more to do with some type of trauma than some type of birth defect. Far up ahead in the distance, a great plume of black smoke billowed high up into the air.

  I rode next to Cathy for a while. “I hope you don’t mind me asking,” I said, quietly. “Violet isn’t like the other kids, is she?”

  Cathy’s eyes flashed with anger, but only for a moment. She shook her head. “Violet has seen a lot bad things in her life. She has her own way of dealing with reality.”

  I nodded, but I was still curious. “You don’t have to tell me, but what kind of things are you talking about?”

  “Terrible things, Gary, things she saw when she was with her father.”

  “Like what?”

  Cathy looked as if she were about to fill me in, but she simply shook her head. “I’m sorry. I can’t talk about it, not now. Trust me, you don’t want to know. That poor girl has been to hell and back. Let’s just leave it at that, okay?”

  “Sure,” I said. “I wasn’t trying to pry.”

  “I know you weren’t. Maybe I’ll tell you some other time. Now isn’t that time.”

  “Whatever works for you, I’m here if you need someone to listen.”

  We continued our journey in silence. Clouds appeared in the west and lazily drifted over us. They were a welcome site as the temperature had climbed somewhere close to ninety degrees. A green pickup truck suddenly appeared from around a sharp curve in the road. The truck was upon us before we had time to react, and Cathy and I exchanged a worried look. Fifty feet away, the rusty Ford pickup slowed to a stop. I was relieved to see an older couple inside. The driver stepped out of the truck and crossed his arms as we approached. We pedaled up to him and stopped. “Hi,” I said. “How are you?” I didn’t know what else to say.

  The man was thin and wore a white cotton t-shirt under a pair of faded bibbed overalls. He was mostly bald with just a fringe of short white hair. I placed him somewhere in his early sixties. He turned to the open window of the Ford. “He wants to know how we are,” he said, amusedly. He then returned his attention to me. “We just left Mason,” he said in a gruff voice. “It’s gone.”

  I pointed at the faraway plume of smoke. “That must be Mason,” I said. “What the hell happened?”

  The old man spat at the asphalt and chuckled. He then turned to face what I assumed to be his wife. “He wants to know what happened to Mason,” he said.

  “What happened?” she asked, angrily. “I’ll tell you what happened: those goddamn little airplanes bombed it! What the hell did we do to deserve this? Has everyone lost their minds?”

  The old man turned to face me. “I wouldn’t go that way if I were you. The National Guard was arresting anyone who wasn’t killed. You folks should turn around and head to Thistle. You’ll be safe there. We’ve got a plan.”

  Cathy coughed and I shot her a look. “Thank you,” I said, “but we’re heading over to Pine City. My family is there.”

  “You’ll never make it,” said the old guy. “There are roadblocks on all the bridges crossing the interstate. Far as we know, the National Guard is arresting anyone who tries to get across. Least, that’s what we heard,” he then got back inside his pickup truck and closed the door. “I’m sorry. I wish we had better news for you. If you have to make it to Pine City, I’d steer clear of Mason.”

  The old man wished us luck as he slowly drove away. Violet began pedaling and Cathy followed her. I began to have serious reservations about our chances of making it out to the farm. To get there, we would have to cross the freeway. If what the old man was saying were true, we would have to jump the fence and cross against the traffic. We could do that, but we would have to cross under the cover of darkness and only as a last resort. I began to pedal after Cathy.

  I hated riding the little bike, and my knees were already beginning to ache. The revolver in my belt had chafed the skin on my back and the spot burned. I hadn’t pedaled a hundred yards when I became aware of a buzzing sound. Cathy turned her head to look at me as the sound grew in intensity. She and Violet were just ahead of me and were nearly at the sharp corner in the road. The road cut through a grove of trees and I waved her into them. “Get off the road!” I shouted. By that time, the buzzing sounded as if it were almost on top of us. I glanced back at the green pickup, which was just a small dot on the horizon.

  Cathy and Violet dismounted and quickly wheeled their bikes down into the ditch. I joined them a few seconds later. After unstrapping the duffel bags from the handlebars, we dropped the bikes in the tall weeds and jogged for cover under a tall canopy of oaks. We had no sooner dropped to our knees when we spotted the drone. The little plane was flying high in the sky and seemed to be following the highway behind the green Ford, and Cathy gasped as it bore down on the unsuspecting couple. Suddenly, something began to whistle and I looked up to see a jet stream looping down from the sky. The missile took only a few seconds to reach the pickup. I’m sure the old couple never knew what hit them. At least, that’s what I tell myself.

  “Dear Lord,” moaned Cathy.

  I watched as the drone flew over the burning pickup, and I was about to say something when I felt a presence behind us. I had no idea what it was, but I pulled my revolver from out of my waistband and spun around. I found myself staring into the muzzle of a shotgun. “Don’t shoot,” said a man’s voice. “Just get away from the goddamn road. You’re going to give us away!”

  Chapter 6

  Cathy let out a small cry as she turned to see the gun, but the man quickly dropped the barrel and motioned for us to follow him deeper into the woods. With the drone still buzzing menacingly in the distance, we rose to our feet and ran after him. He didn’t run
far, perhaps fifty yards, before he disappeared behind a tangle of downed tree limbs. We found him waiting on the other side, holding open a trap door.

  “Hurry,” he said, sweeping us over and down into the hole. “Those things have infrared cameras.”

  Cathy turned to me for approval and I nodded my head. I followed her down a crude set of stairs and into a dugout, which roughly twice the size of my bedroom at the apartment. An electric lantern cast light on a tapestry of roots woven into the earthen walls. The man followed me down and slammed the hatch down behind him. He was ruggedly handsome with broad shoulders and thick brown hair that was parted in the middle and hung to his shoulders. He was dressed in camouflage cargo shorts and a matching tank top over combat boots.

  “Thanks,” I said. “My name is Gary.”

  He gave me a wary look before leaning his gun against the wall. He shook my hand. “I’m Todd,” he said, dryly. “I hope like hell that drone didn’t spot you people. We’ll be dead in a few seconds if it did.”

  I turned to face Cathy. She stood with Violet tucked into her arms and she stared up at the plywood ceiling, which hung about ten feet above us. We waited for a long minute before she spoke. “Thank you,” she said to Todd. “My name is Cathy and this is my daughter, Violet.”

  Todd reached over to take her hand, but instead of shaking it, Todd lifted it to his lips and he kissed the back of it. “A pleasure to meet the both of you,” he said. “You’ll have to excuse the mess; I wasn’t expecting company.”

  I felt a sharp pang of jealousy as he released Cathy’s hand. She smiled, but she held Todd’s eyes in her own. I pretended not to notice and turned away. The dugout was furnished with secondhand furniture and appeared to be well organized. One wall was lined with long shelves brimming with canned foods and other supplies. The floor was level and covered in green indoor/outdoor carpeting. A queen-sized bed sat on one end of the dugout and a kitchen table sat near the stairs, complete with four mismatched chairs. Behind the table was a gun rack. I counted seven rifles standing there, two of which were illegal assault-style weapons. I sat down at the table.