by John Grit
“All right.”
“And think about joining us,” Nate said. “You have a few more days to decide.”
“Why a few days?”
“I’ve got to go now. You should go back to your camp and think about joining us.”
Nate heard little noise as she slipped away into the night. Standing in the silent dark, he hoped she would do what he said.
This thing is going to kill me. Nate pulled on the water tank, dragging it a few more yards before stopping to rest his tired back and arms. He could not wait to get the damn thing to the slope where it will be downhill to the river swamp. But then there will be brush and trees to deal with.
Brian glassed into the starlit night, meticulously searching deep into every shadow along the right edge of the field. Occasionally, he scanned the field and pasture in case someone came out of the woods on the left. Three hours had passed since his father walked into the woods. As time ticked by and nothing happened, his nerves calmed, but now those same nerves were fraying. What is taking so long?
Every time an urge to call on the radio overtook him, he remembered his father telling him to stay off the radio unless it was an emergency. If he hit the transmit button at the wrong time, such as if his father were hiding silently in the dark, he could get him killed.
Brian jumped when the radio screeched and Nate’s voice boomed in the bedroom. “I’ll be coming in the backdoor in a minute.” He took the radio off his lap and started to speak but realized it was unnecessary. He would just wait for his father to walk into the room before he asked what the hell took so long.
Nate appeared at the bedroom door drenched in sweat, despite the cold. “I only got it a little way into the swamp before I had to quit.” He plopped down on a chair. “Didn’t realize how heavy that damn thing is. Dragging it through brush and cypress trees when I got out of the field and into the swamp finished me. I left it hidden in brush.”
Brian was silent.
Nate closed the shutter and window. Sitting on the chair again, he noticed Brian was still wound up but holding it in. “I had a talk with our mysterious friend, the egg thief.”
“You’re pulling my leg.” Brian was in no mood for jokes. “You could have picked the radio up and told me why it was taking so long.” He crossed his arms and stared straight ahead.
“It would have just brought more risk to us both.” Nate was slightly amused at Brian crossing his arms and almost pouting. “The less noise I made out there the better, same for you.” He stood. “I’m worn out, and I need a drink of water. You want anything while I’m in the kitchen?”
“No.”
Nate yelled from the kitchen. “What I said about having a chat with the egg thief is true.” He returned and leaned against the bedroom doorframe, holding a glass of water. “And you won’t believe this, but the thief is a girl.”
Brian snorted. “You’re right: I don’t believe it.”
“Never saw her in the dark woods, but from her voice, I’d say she’s a teen, a little older than you.”
Finally realizing his father just might be telling the truth, Brian searched his face for any evidence of an impending “gotcha.” He saw none. “Come on! A girl living out there in the woods? In this cold? With no shelter or food other than our eggs and wild rabbits?”
“We did leave more than eggs for her. Impressive though, isn’t it? She’s one tough girl. Probably looks like a cave woman or sasquatch though.”
“If you’re telling the truth, what did she say?”
“Asked about you. Evidently she saw me carrying you to the house after the fight. Knew you hadn’t been out of the house since. I tried to convince her we mean her no harm, but she’s really suspicious and careful. My guess is she’s seen a lot of violence in town and doesn’t trust anyone. Probably lost her family in the chaos.”
“Is that all? You didn’t learn anything else about her?”
“She did ask for a sleeping bag and rain gear. I told her we would leave it out for her. Now I’m thinking we should leave a box of .22 hollow points, one of your mother’s coats, and a tarp.”
“She’s stupid if she won’t trust us.”
“I wouldn’t say that. No telling what she’s been through. We’re kind of jumpy since you got shot. Hell, we’re leaving a perfectly good farm because of it. In fact, I told her to be careful because we might shoot her after the trouble with those last two.”
“You told her right.” Brian looked straight ahead. “She better not be sneaking around at night anymore.”
“By the way, she apologized for stealing the eggs, said she was hungry.”
“I bet she was. I bet she’s hungry now.”
“Feeling sorry for her?”
Brian snorted. “I was just saying.”
* * *
Net yelled from the kitchen. “Time for breakfast. We have to hurry because I want to be in the woods with my first load of the day just as soon as there’s enough light to see.”
Brian groaned and pulled the cover over his head. The smell of coffee and frying sausage refortified his ambition to do his part. He yawned, stretched, sat up, and reached for his warm vest. Still cold, he pulled on a coat and buttoned it.
“How’s your leg?” Nate put Brian’s breakfast on the shooting platform. It made a prefect table.
Brian took a sip of coffee. “Doesn’t hurt anymore. Feels funny.”
Nate’s eyes flashed to the bandaged leg. “I should have checked it yesterday.” He put his fork down, still full of scrambled egg, and stood. He had Brian’s breakfast off the shooting platform and the platform tilted over out of the way in seconds.
Irritated, Brian asked, “What did I say? I’m hungry, damnit!”
Nate nearly tore the wet bandage off, cutting with a small pocketknife. His face suddenly lost all color. The leg was hot to the touch, the wound red and swollen. Fluid oozed onto the towel under Brian’s leg. Nate’s chest deflated. He turned his face from Brian so he would not see. Rushing out of the room, he said, “I’m going to get the medical kit.” When he got down the hall, he stopped, braced himself with a hand against Brian’s bedroom door; he needed support to keep from falling over. The world was spinning around his head. Smearing tears from his face, he stiffened and went to get the medical kit he knew did not contain what he needed to save Brian’s life.
“Damnit, that hurts!”
“Sorry, but it’s got to be cleaned.” Nate scrubbed the wound with antibiotic-soaked gauze. When he was finished, he put a clean towel under Brian’s leg and left it uncovered so it could drain. He wiped his forehead with a sleeve. “If you’re still hungry, I’ll put the platform back in place so you can finish breakfast.”
“It’s cold by now.”
“I’ll warm it for you.”
“No, I’ll eat it cold. You’re already sweating, even in this cold room. You don’t need to be standing over the stove.”
“I’m just tired.” Nate pulled the shooting platform back in place and set Brian’s food on it.
“You just woke up,” Brian said. “I’m not stupid. I can see you’re worried.”
Nate looked at his hands to see if they were shaking. “You’re okay. I just should have been checking the wound instead of packing to move.”
“There’s nothing you can do, even if you cleaned it every hour. Stop blaming yourself. You didn’t shoot me.”
Nate’s eyes flashed to Brian. He forced himself to swallow. “I’m going to Mel’s today. He’s bound to have more drugs than we have.”
“Don’t do that. Just keep packing stuff to the river.”
“Not that you have a vote, why?”
“More people will be coming. Not just from town, but even from the nearest cities. You need to be at Mel’s as soon as possible.”
“We need to be there. You’re one hell of a long way from dead, Brian. It’s just starting to fester a little. Mel is bound to have some stronger drugs. Anyway, we’ll know in a few hours.”
“Y
eah, that’s why you’re as white as a sheet. You look like you did when Beth first got sick.”
Nate blanched, his eyes flared as he stared Brian down.
“You just turned whiter.”
“You’re making me angry. Stop it. You’re not dying.” Nate’s face washed over with realization. “Do you want to live?”
He did not answer.
“Brian, answer me!”
“I don’t want to leave you alone.” He turned his head to stare at the far wall. “It wouldn’t be fair to let you have all this fun to yourself.”
“So you’re feeling sorry for yourself again. You know what keeps me going? You. Try caring for someone other than yourself. It puts things into perspective.”
Brian turned his gaze back to Nate, his eyes red. “You were a good husband for Mom and a good father for Beth and me. I know that.”
“It will get better in time. There is a life ahead for you. That’s what I’m working for. We just have to make it through this. Right now you’re health is number one.”
“I wasn’t talking about me.”
“I am.”
“Okay. Since you want to talk about me, just know I don’t want to lose my leg. What good will I be in this world we’re in now with one leg? It’s my leg, my life, and my choice.”
Nate’s anger boiled over. “Shut up! You’re just a kid. And now all of a sudden you decide to play some character you read about. You’ve seen too many movies. You would bleed to death or die of shock anyway. Stop that shit. It’s nowhere near that bad. Mel has drugs. Hell, he stockpiled everything else.” He sighed as his eyes roamed around the room, desperately searching inwardly. “The drugs will be out-of-date, but they should still be okay to use.”
“I’ve been thinking about what could happen while lying here since I was shot. So I didn’t just come up with this now. And I didn’t read I was going to get shot in a book or see it in a movie. It’s my right. You have to promise you won’t do it without my permission.”
“Will you shut up? We’re a looong way from that. I told you you’re going to be okay. And you are still just a kid, and I’m your father. I am telling you to stop thinking like that. You will be okay. If that changes, I won’t lie to you.”
“Okay.”
Nate stood. “I need to start for Mel’s now.” He left the shotgun beside Brian on the bed. “You can sleep. If someone tries to break in, they will have to make more than enough noise to wake you.”
“Just don’t run all the way there and give yourself a heart attack.”
Nate was quiet for thirty seconds. It took him that long to calm down. He wanted to punch Brian out. No. He wanted to hold him and tell him he would have him in a hospital in less than an hour. He wasn’t angry with Brian; he was mad at the world. He hated the men who shot him. He hated that Brian was forced to grow up in a matter of months.
“No, I will have to take my time to avoid blundering into an ambush. Might be more criminals around.”
Brian seemed glad to change the subject. “Criminals? They’re just regular people who don’t care anymore. Hunger and fear turns people into animals.”
Nate forced himself to finish his eggs and toast with two mouthfuls and gulped the coffee down. He would need the energy. “You’ve become quite a philosopher lately.” Before he left the room, he stopped to say, “I might as well take a pack load with me. I can’t move fast anyway.”
“Before you go, bring Mom’s book about home remedies to me. I can read while you’re gone. Might find something for infected wounds.”
Chapter 8
Nate was in rough country, about two thirds of the way to Mel’s cache, when he first heard them coming. Three men, stumbling through the woods, announcing their arrival seventy yards ahead of them with all the noise they made, bitching at each other about how cold, tired, and hungry they were.
As they went by, Nate hid behind a limestone rock next to a bushy, short magnolia and listened. They were too far to see through all the brush, but he could hear their loud voices with no trouble. Obviously, they were city people, with no idea of how to travel quietly in woods.
They must think they’re the only ones in the county. Damn fools aren’t going to live long.
“We’ll camp by the river, might rob a family coming up from town,” one gravelly voice said.
The one who had been quiet until now spoke up. “Maybe we should wait until the others get here.”
A third voice responded angrily. “You gutless bastard! It doesn’t take seven men to do that.”
“I just don’t see any reason to bother with some family traveling the river by boat. They’re not likely to have much. Once the others get here, we can take the Williams farm like Chuck said, and we’ll be set with all we need. Then we can rob everyone who comes up or down river.”
Nate’s mind raced. The only Chuck he knew was from high school. A kid from a family of convicts who was fast following his two big brothers’ and father’s path. He had been in trouble since the age of ten and had graduated to armed robbery, general thug activity, and drug dealing by fifteen. Last he heard he was serving life in state prison for murder. That was eleven years ago. Why would escaped convicts come all this way?
He remembered they lived in a notorious neighborhood of rundown trailers and shacks known as “White Trash Hollow,” where spouse and child, as well as alcohol and drug abuse, were rampant. He nearly beat Chuck Shingle to death one day after a baseball game when he tried to force himself on the girl Nate would later marry. It was the fact Nate was preventing a “forcible felony,” which, under state law, made it legal to use deadly force that stopped the state from charging him with attempted murder. When it came out from sworn testimony that Chuck was the first to use the bat, breaking two of Nate’s ribs and his left arm, Nate stove in Chuck’s cheekbone with, all the lesser charges were also dropped. The fight left Chuck Shingle deformed for life. Nate’s clean record and Susan’s testimony also helped.
Shingle became the laughingstock of the county when he pled to the judge during sentencing that he was not at fault because “alcohol was involved.” The judge responded. “It usually is.” Shingle was never charged with attempted rape or assault with a deadly weapon. At first, it appeared Nate was going to be in more trouble than Chuck. In the end, Nate’s charges were all dropped and Chuck got six months for assaulting Susan. Nate stormed out of the court. When asked by a reporter what he thought about the sentence, Nate replied, “The next girl he attacks better not be Susan. And there will be a next.”
Three weeks after Chuck Shingle was released from prison, nearly two months early for “good behavior,” two of the Williams’ cows were shot with a hunting bow as they grazed near forest land on the edge of the pasture. A month later, all their vehicles were sabotaged with sand in the gas tanks. That summer, the barn was partially burned one night before the Nate family could put it out. They lost all their hens and two roosters.
Nate was losing sleep, staying up nights with his father’s double-barrel shotgun and was worried sick Shingle would harm Susan. But Susan was never bothered again by Chuck Shingle. Her father caught Shingle drunk and alone one night. By daylight, the fear of God was permanently implanted in his brain. He came close to dying, and had collected more facial scars to go with those Nate gave him. He was afraid to file a complaint. If he wanted Susan, he had better kill her father first. And then there was Nate. In a rare spark of common sense and sanity, he told everyone who would listen he considered the matter closed and would never bother Susan or the Williams family again. Everyone knew why, but knew better than to antagonize him by rubbing it in.
“Likely be a wife and daughter with them,” the gravelly voice barked. “You remember what a woman is, don’t you? Or have you been everyone’s cell bitch so long you forgot?”
“Yeah, asshole, you’ve been nothing but a whining pussy since we broke out,” the second voice added. “When Doug killed that deputy last week, you kept whining about the death pe
nalty.”
“I might be a pussy, but you’ll be the one whining when they strap your ass down and shove that needle in. Just because there’s no law now doesn’t mean this country won’t get back on its feet someday.”
“See what I mean?” The gravelly voice sounded letdown. “I told you he would just be dead weight. Here we are in a hunter’s paradise, a con’s wet dream—no law—and this pussy doesn’t realize how lucky he is. I’m not sure he’s even happy to be out of prison.”
“Well, he’s good for carrying stuff and gathering wood for now. When we take the farm, he’ll be our fetch boy.”
The gravelly voice laughed, then hawked and spit. “Just so you know…the farmer’s wife is Chuck’s. We’ll kill the rest.”
The quiet man went back to being quiet.
Nate had gone to bed last night bone weary, and his back and leg muscles were screaming all morning as he carried the heavy pack. Now rage surged through his veins, replenishing his strength. He was as angry for Susan and Beth as Brian, despite the fact they were dead and past hurting. His eyes were slits as he moved in for the kill. They came to murder his family; all thoughts of mercy or doubts about what he was about to do vanished. Pushing the safety off his rifle, he stalked closer.
All the colors of the forest became intense, every leaf and branch, every twig and blade of grass crisp and vivid in his eyes. Sounds funneled into his senses, not just his ears, but his very soul; he was a Ranger again, a Ranger at war.
Tracking them by sound, he came in from their left and caught them in an opening the size of a two-car garage. Their long guns hung from their shoulders, useless. All three saw him at the same time and froze, their faces ashen as they stared at the muzzle of his rifle. They had no idea who he was, but they saw hate on his face and death in his eyes. The one who had a handgun reached for it. Nate double tapped him, putting both bullets in his heart. He had the time since the other two would never get their long guns into action before he killed them.