by John Grit
“No,” Nate said. “A cold front is coming in. It will storm before dark. I’ll wait until tomorrow.”
“I think we can make one more trip before it rains.” Deni looked at the sky.
“Yep. Rain’s not going to stop me though. You can stay in the house while I keep hauling stuff down here.”
“You forget I’m Army. Don’t baby me.”
Nate shrugged. “Your choice.”
“Okay. Where is this place you’re moving to? I mean, besides upriver.”
“It belongs to a friend of ours. He was called in when the plague started. We haven’t heard from him since.”
“Called in?” Deni asked.
“ANG.”
“Oh. Well, chances are he didn’t make it. Sorry to tell you, but it’s true.”
“No way to know, but you’re probably right.” Nate walked around a large palmetto frond.
They managed to complete two more trips. Nate looked out the window as he stood by Brian who was sitting in the chair, glassing the scene with binoculars. “We will get wet on the next haul.”
Deni asked, “Where’s that poncho?” The sky in the northwest was woolly with heavy clouds and growing darker by the minute. A few drops blew in through the window. “Here it comes.”
Brian lowered the binoculars. “It’s going to rain in and there’s no glass to stop it.”
Nate turned the steel plate on its end, covering all but the upper few inches of the opening.
“It’s still going to rain in and run down the plate, Dad.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Nate said. “And you won’t be able to see anything out there anyway, so you might as well go eat some more cake or read.”
“It will ruin the floor.”
Nate said nothing. He looked away.
Brian’s eyes flashed to Deni. “He talks like the two go together or something: If you read you got to eat cake, if you eat cake you got to read.”
Deni forced a laugh. “Yeah.”
“Let’s eat supper and get back to work.” Nate disappeared down the hall.
After supper, Nate and Deni loaded packs and headed down to the river.
“I thought it couldn’t possibly rain any harder a few minutes ago,” Deni said. “Now I’m wondering if this isn’t a new record for rainfall per hour.”
A lightning bolt struck a tall dead pine on the other side of the field and wind drove sheets of cold rain in their face.
Nate tried to see more than ten feet ahead and was having little luck. “It will save us time, so it’s worth it.”
“How is that?”
“No one will see us in this heavy rain and dark. We can walk in the open and not have to deal with the trees and brush.”
“Are you planning on working all night to take advantage of the cover of this weather?”
“Yes, but you should stay with Brian tonight, get some rest.”
She walked faster. “No. I can outwork any Ranger.”
“Suit yourself.”
On the next trip it was storming so strong and the night so dark, Nate and Deni felt it safe to use the tractor without being seen. They loaded two one hundred pound propane tanks and several twenty pound tanks onto the trailer. They also took the kerosene refrigerator and other heavy items, such as a generator and even the woodstove. Brian helped load as best he could, limping around the house, donning a poncho and joining them in the cold rain until Nate ordered him inside. “You’re not well yet and a candidate for pneumonia,” he said.
By morning they had everything Nate planned to bring to Mel’s retreat hid in the swamp not far from the river. He still had not decided what to do with the cow and whether or not they could keep the chickens at Mel’s and still not be found. The animals could not be kept in the bunker with them or in the cave, and the chickens would be noisy and attract attention. The cow would have to be released to fend for itself or butchered for meat. He knew Brian did not like either idea. The most humane thing to do was kill it. Without someone to relieve her udder, she would be in pain in only a few days.
By two AM, it stormed with increasing violence outside while Brian slept. Nate opened Susan’s dresser. He turned to Deni. “Take anything practicable that you can use. Susan was taller and a little larger than you, but I think you can wear her stuff. There are jeans and shirts. Take cold weather stuff too for next winter. Spring is breaking now, or it should be, but you will need them next winter. There are a couple pair of good work boots. None of her stuff is going to fit you for town, but you’re not going to be socializing anytime soon and we won’t be appraising your clothing.”
Deni gave him a look only a woman can. “Thank you for being so kind.”
“You’re welcome. But anything we leave behind will most likely be lost anyway.”
“That’s not what I meant. This is your wife’s things.”
He looked away. “Put what you want to take with us in plastic garbage bags so they won’t get wet. Hurry, we need to take advantage of the cover of this storm while we can.” He left the room, closing the door behind him in case she wanted to check Susan’s clothes for fit.
Deni picked anything in green she could find that would be good work clothes. She discarded anything bright colored that would make her easy to see in the woods. Blue jeans were acceptable for their practicality, but she would rather they were olive drab or even camouflage patterned. She was happy to find a half dozen dull green T-shirts that were just baggy enough for active wear.
Brian got out of bed and followed Nate into the kitchen.
“You need to be sleeping,” Nate told Brian.
Brian rubbed his eyes until they adjusted to the lamplight. “I can’t.”
“Well, if you’re not going to sleep, put all your clothes in garbage bags and pile them near the front door. Make sure you take all your boots and socks. This will be about the last night we spend here.”
Brian collapsed into a chair in the living room and stared at the closed front door. He said nothing, but Nate knew what he was thinking.
“Best to move fast now,” Nate said. “We’re in an awkward position with all our stuff down by the river and us still in the house. That storm is not going to last much longer.”
Brian pushed himself up out of the chair as if he were made of lead.
Nate grabbed a few garbage bags and followed him to his room. “Let’s get your stuff bagged and on the flatbed trailer.”
Brian went about the chore in a funk, without a word. Nate was happy to see him working with speed, and they soon had his room cleaned out of anything useful to Brian’s survival. Brian picked his birthday present off a dresser and started to stuff it under his belt. He had no holster for it.
“Wait. Is it loaded?” Nate asked. “The chamber, I mean.”
“Yes.”
Nate took it from him, removed the magazine, ejected the chambered round onto the bed, put it in the magazine, and then pushed the magazine in and handed it back to Brian. “That pistol is a squirrel gun, or a last-ditch weapon. Don’t rely on the safety when you’re carrying a pistol like that. I carried a .45 cocked and locked most of the time I was in a combat zone, but not with it pointed at my privates, stuck in my paints. You need a holster. Keep the mag. loaded and the chamber empty.”
“Okay.”
Nate checked the nearly empty dresser and closet to make certain they were not leaving something behind Brian would need. Then he looked under the bed. There, he found an old pair of athletic shoes. “Put that in the bag with your extra boots.”
They started down the hall, each with a full bag. “Careful not to put a hole in it,” Nate warned.
Deni was outside, carrying a bag to the trailer, so Nate went out the door with his bag. Brian started to follow. “No. Stay at the door, off to the side so no one can see you, and I will take it the rest of the way. No need for you to get wet.”
Brian stayed in the house while the other two used the tractor to haul their last load of the night down to the
river and hide it in the woods.
As soon as they got back, Nate unhooked the trailer and attached the cultivator. He plowed under a few acres and raised the discs before driving the tractor around the field to make it appear it was used for farmwork and not to haul trailer loads to the river. The field was soft and muddy. He was afraid the tractor’s tracks would be noticeable come daylight.
There was still work to do. Nate and Deni prepared food to last a day so they could work from sunup to sundown without wasting time to cook, and then went to bed. They fell asleep within seconds.
Brian stood watch, just sitting in the living room listening to the wind and rain. He yawned and got up to walk around, trying to stay awake. His mood was as gloomy as the night.
He sat back in the couch and was starting to lose his battle with fatigue when a sound outside sent him exploding to his feet. Brian was certain he heard the tractor start up.
Chapter 14
The front wall of the living room caved in. Cold wind blasted Brian’s face, and rain drenched the floor. A bolt of lightning lit up the yard outside for a second, silhouetting a hulking form that protruded into the house. Brian fired as soon as his shotgun touched his shoulder. A human form jumped off the tractor just as he pulled the trigger. Brian continued to fire through the hole, hoping to hit the man, until his shotgun was empty.
Nate ran in, his rifle shouldered.
Brian was reloading. He answered before Nate could ask. “I’m all right. It must be Chuckey.”
Deni raced down the hall, rifle at the low ready, stopping just inside the living room.
Nate appraised the scene. “Someone hot-wired the tractor and drove it through the wall.” He was telling Deni more than Brian, who was grabbing shells from a box on the end table and stuffing them in his pockets.
Nate was furious with himself. “Son of a bitch! I forgot to disable the tractor when I parked it. I took the keys, but—”
“The house doesn’t matter anymore, Dad.”
“That’s not the point.”
“People make mistakes when they’re as tired as you,” Deni said.
“There is no excuse. You two go to bed. I will stand watch the rest of the night.”
“No.” Brian yelled above the raging storm. “You two are the ones who need rest. I can handle it.”
“Brian, he’s out there.”
“I’ll be okay because he can only shoot through the hole and the tractor covers most of it.”
The wind shifted and more rain blew in, soaking much of the furniture on that side of the room.
Nate walked to his poncho that was hanging by the front door and slipped it on.
“Dad, don’t!”
Nate pointed. “Get over there and be quiet and stay inside no matter what.”
“I won’t. If you go, I won’t stay. Just rest, I can keep him out till morning.”
Nate rushed across the room and shook Brian by his shoulders. “Do what I tell you!”
“No. He wants you outside. He’s waiting.”
“He may think he wants me out there, but he doesn’t.”
“Don’t go,” Brian said. “Please, not tonight. He has something planned. I know it.”
“Of course he does. He might know where we left our supplies. If he’s been around all night, that’s more than likely.”
“Let me go guard the supplies until morning,” Deni said.
“No.” Nate crawled under the tractor and searched the dark, wet night. After waiting several minutes for lightning to light the yard and seeing nothing but streaming sheets of hard rain, he crawled back into the room. “Stay alert. I’ll be back in a minute.” He returned with his load-bearing harness and pistol belt over his poncho and his backpack which he carried by the shoulder straps. He went into the kitchen, filled a two-quart canteen from a pail of water, took what food was left in the house, and returned to the living room. “Load up anything you have left in the house you do not want to leave behind. We are abandoning the house right now. There is nothing here worth dying for.”
Brian nearly yelled, “The chickens and cow!”
“Like I said, there is nothing left here worth dying for.”
Brian was not giving up. “I know you’re as tired of eggs as me, but fresh eggs are a lot better than Mel’s freeze-dried stuff any day.”
“There is no time to argue,” Nate said. “You two need to be ready to leave in a few minutes.”
Deni rushed into the bedroom she was sleeping in.
Brian kicked a chair across the room and then started getting ready to leave. “I came so close to killing the bastard.”
“Fill your canteen,” Nate said. He looked through the hole into the storm.
Deni walked into the kitchen, already in a poncho and with her pack on, the .22 rifle tied to it, her fighting rifle in her hands. She filled her canteens and then took Brian’s and filled them.
Nate waited until they returned to the living room. Just able to see them in the dark, he came closer and whispered, “Come with me.” They walked down the hall into Brian’s bedroom. Nate turned and whispered, “We’re going out through the window. I’m going first. I will go into the woods and make sure it’s clear. If you don’t hear any shots after five minutes, Brian goes next. Brian, you wait by the window against the wall. Stay low until Deni gets out. Then both of you run straight into the woods. I’ll be waiting and keeping watch. After that, we will go deeper into the woods and swing around to the cache and load the water tank for the first trip.”
First, Nate removed the window screen. When he opened the shutter, the roar of wind and hammering of rain on the tin roof was loud in the room. It was not letting up, if anything the storm grew stronger. The window was not large enough, so he took his pack off and had Deni push it through after he was outside.
A lightning bolt lit his surroundings, trees danced in the wind, creating a macabre scene. Nate rushed to the trees and searched the area as best he could in the wet, storm-tossed miasma. Someone could have been out there in the woods and Nate not see him, but the same storm also kept Nate hid.
Five minutes later, Brian was waiting against the wall. Then Deni pushed her pack out and Brian pulled it out of the way. She slipped through the window onto the ground. They ran into the brush and stopped because they could see nothing.
Nate spoke just loud enough they could hear three feet away. “Brian, grab my pack. Deni, grab his. You two follow along behind me. I will go slow.” As if there were any other way in this mess. He worried about the danger of a windblown tree falling on them. Nate saw two trees down in the yard when lightning lifted the curtain of darkness earlier. It may be a slow moving cold front, but it looks like a hurricane.
With compass in one hand, its needle and cardinal points glowing in the dark, rifle in the other, Nate took them deeper into the woods and then swung around to head downslope. He held his rifle out to protect his eyes from branches and felt his way with the toes of his boots.
Nate purposely kept to the left enough they would reach the river downstream, so he would know what direction to turn when they got there. They made their way upriver until he came to a small creek that had been dry before the storm but now was swollen and overflowing.
“Wait here,” Nate said. “I’m going to scout the area before we get any closer.”
He returned thirty minutes later. “It’s clear.” They walked upslope until they came to their cache.
Nate turned to them. “Take your packs off and wait. You will hear me coming because I’ll be pulling that water tank through the brush.”
“Let me help you,” Brian said.
“No. You two wait here.” Nate took his pack off and set it on the tarpaulin covering all their worldly possessions, then left them in the dark.
Fifteen minutes later, Nate pulled the tank past them and slid it into the water. He loaded a half dozen ammunition cans and plastic bags of canned goods in the bottom of the tank and attached the outboard to one end.
Nate stood in the creek as they handed him more items to load.
Brian handed him a gallon fuel can. “Can’t we load more than that? It will be easier than packing it.”
“No. It will sink too deep and mire in the muddy bottom.”
Deni and Brian carried as much as they could manage while Nate pulled the tank to the river by rope from the bank, floating it down the engorged creek. Brian hobbled, trying to keep as much strain off his leg as possible.
“Unload your packs into the tank and we’ll get another load.” Nate arranged the heaviest items so they would be on the bottom and keep the tank’s center of gravity low. As soon as they were done, all three headed for the cache. “Be as quiet as possible and stay alert.” Nate’s voice was just audible above the roar of the storm.
When they got to the cache, Deni said, “Just in case you need it later, that canoe is on this side of the river where it bends sharply to the south. There’s a spring flowing into the river there. It’s where I’ve been getting my drinking water.”
Brian broke in. “He doesn’t need the canoe, he’s coming with us.”
Nate ignored Brian. “Thanks, I will need it tomorrow if everything works out tonight.”
“Good luck,” Deni said.
Five more trips and the tank was setting lower in the water as it strained against its bowline and danced in the swift current. Deni used her hands in the dark to determine how much of the tank was still above water. “I think it will take more. Certainly there is more room for lighter stuff.”
“No,” Nate said. “You two are taking it upriver. Brian, go to the creek below Mel’s place and walk to the bunker. Leave everything but your weapons and packs in the tank. Just tie it off well and pull it up on the bank as far as you can in case it fills with rainwater.” He handed Brian the keys. “You know how to get past his security.”
“No!” Brian said. “You’re coming with us.”
“I have a little more experience at this, Brian. And there is no time to argue.” Nate handed Deni a spotlight he took out of the water tank. “You ride in front. Brian will handle the kicker. Brian, you will have to tell her when you’re close to that creek so she can turn the light on to search for it. Don’t use the light until you’re close.”