by N. C. Reed
-
Marla had jumped when the machine gun had fired. She had heard a voice coming through a speaker but couldn't quite make out what was being said. Then she heard gunfire and saw four of her five problems take off down the road. Another brief speech from the loudspeaker saw the fifth follow in a few seconds.
The rumbling of a powerful engine came closer and she saw a military truck pull into view. Tensing, knowing that she had no way to defend herself and the girl against something like that, she could only hope whoever this was, they were the good guys. She had sent Lisa to hide once more at the sound of approaching engines, so it was just her as the military vehicle pulled to a stop.
“Miss Marla,” the speaker boomed against the front of her store. “The Old Man sent me to get you and bring you to the farm. I'd really appreciate it if you don't shoot us. I'm gonna get out now, real slow, so please don't shoot me. Lainie will be really upset about that.”
“Lainie?” Marla frowned. She hadn't spoken to her granddaughter in weeks. And the only person she knew that was called The old man was-
She felt her knees go weak in relief as Clayton Sanders climbed out of that military truck, hands raised where she could see them.
“Would you like to get outta here, Miss Marla?”
The only reason Marla didn't run to hug the younger Clayton was because she wasn't convinced her legs would carry her. She opened the door with shaky hands and stepped outside, wrapping her arms around him.
“Easy now,” Clay told her. “We should have been here sooner but we had another issue. Do you still have the girl?”
“Lisa?” Marla looked up at him. “Lisa Mitchell?”
“We found her mom,” Clay nodded. “She's hurt but she 'll be okay Patricia says. Leon told me to come and get you, and Patricia told me that Amy said she had left Lisa with you so we're technically killing two birds with one stone here. The Old Man said tell you to come to the farm. That he had everything you needed to get by so just bring what you could fit in here,” he pointed to the MRAP which was just now pulling up, trailer hooked on behind it. “Whatever room is left we can fill with stuff from your store. No sense leaving it for that bunch,” he jerked his head down the road in the direction the thugs had run.
“No, there ain't,” she agreed. “And yeah, Lisa's still here. Hid out in my bedroom at the moment. Let me get her and grab her things and mine. And you can have anything from here you want,” she pointed at the store. “Lord knows I ain't gonna need it no more. This here, this ain't temporary, is it?” she asked him.
“We don't think so,” Clay admitted. “It looks permanent. And it's everywhere for the most part. Only rigs like these,” he indicated the military vehicles, “and those that were inside will still run. We think we're in pretty decent shape for now, but I don't know about the future.”
“Did you mention Lainie?” Marla suddenly remembered. “Have you seen her?”
“She's at the farm,” Clay didn't quite tell her everything. “She's fine. I'm sure she 'll be glad to see you. But we do need to hurry.”
“Right, right,” the older woman began shuffling back into the store. “Let’s get to it.”
-
“Amy, I told you before you aren't in any shape to go anywhere.”
Amy Mitchell looked up from where she was trying to dress herself in the clothing that had been brought for her. It was surprisingly close to fitting her, for which she was thankful. She had no idea what had happened to what she had been wearing.
“I have to get my daughter,” she said flatly. “I've been gone a week. She might think I've abandoned her!”
“Amy, do you really think Marla would let her think that?” Patricia asked. “And besides, how are you going to get there?”
“Surely someone can give me a ride,” Amy told her. “Or loan me their car.”
“Very few vehicles still run, Amy,” Patricia reminded her. “And we're not getting out in public right now in civilian vehicles for fear we might be attacked. But I-”
“I can't worry about being attacked when my daughter is out there!” Amy cut her off, getting to her feet only to wobble for a few seconds before sitting heavily back onto the bed.
“I hate to say I told you so, but I did,” Patricia sighed. “And as I was saying, I've already asked someone to go and get Amy for you. I don't know when-” she cut herself off as she heard engines outside and smiled slightly.
“That may be them now. If you will do what I tell you, then I 'll help you downstairs and we can see if that is your daughter.”
“All right,” the other woman nodded. Leaning on Patricia for balance, the two made their way down the stairs. Amy looked around her in surprise.
“This place is huge,” she noted. “Why so many vehicles inside?”
“This is where they're stored when not in use,” Patricia shrugged. “Here we go,” she pointed them toward a pedestrian door. They made their way to it and stepped outside to see-
“Mommy!” a smaller version of Amy Mitchell ran at once toward her, arms wide.
“Oh, my baby!” Amy was crying as she fell to her knees and hugged her child to her tightly.
“Mommy I missed you soooo much!” Lisa exclaimed. “Miss Marla said you were probably stuck at work because the lights went out so we waited. Then a friend of Miss Marla's sent someone to get us!”
Amy looked up to see Clay Sanders and his nephew, Gordy, watching along with others she didn't know, one of whom was assisting Marla Jones in getting out of a huge, six-wheeled truck. Car. Thing.
“Well, there you are!” Marla smiled. “Boy your bill is gonna be big,” she joked and Amy had to laugh in spite of the time she had been through.
“Thank you for keeping her safe,” she said tearfully.
“You're welcome dear,” Marla smiled. “She was a perfect doll. Did everything she was told the whole time.”
Amy looked at Clay next.
“I'm always being saved by you, somehow,” she said. “Thank you. So much.”
“No problem,” he nodded. “Glad we could do it.” He turned away abruptly and started snapping orders.
“Mitch, round up some others and get the things from Miss Marla's store unloaded and put away. Gordy, Tandi, get her personal gear and put it inside the Hummer and then take her to the Old Man's. He's expecting her. Come on, folks, like you got a reason to be here!” he clapped his hands and everyone began moving.
“Looks like someone's used to giving orders,” Marla raised an eyebrow at him. “So tell me, Strong and Silent. How is it you know my granddaughter?”
“Ah. . .well... .”
-
“So, you hooked up with tall, dark and silent type then, huh?”
Marla was grinning at her granddaughter as the two sat at Leon's table, Marla enjoying her first cup of coffee in several days.
“Yes,” Lainie blushed beet red but grinned none-the-less. “He just sorta walked in and took my breath away.”
“I'd say the feeling was mutual,” Marla chuckled. “He looks at you like a six-year-old staring at a lollipop,” the older woman cackled.
“Grandma!” Lainie's face went even redder if that was possible. “Good grief!”
“Oh shush, girl,” Marla snorted, slapping her granddaughter's arm lightly. “Are you happy with him?”
“Oh yes,” Lainie promised. “Very much so.”
“It sounds like you've done good, Lainie,” Marla told her. “I'm very proud of you, and for you. And I'm glad you were with him and not still in Nashville when all this hit.”
Marla had listened carefully as Leon and Lainie had explained all that had happened. She was not overly pleased to learn that Leon hadn't sought to warn her beforehand, but agreed that her reaction would likely have been similar to her granddaughter’s had he done so. Once her initial irritation had passed, she was just glad that the Sanders' farm was so well prepared and that there was a place there for her and her granddaughter.
Hearing how Am
y Mitchell had come to be there had dulled Marla's good humor at how things were going for the present.
“Animals,” she hissed. “Killing would have been too good for whoever did it,” she growled.
“Well, you 'll have to settle for that because that's all he did,” Leon told her and Marla looked at him.
“So, you really do have your own dog that bites, don't you?” she asked without a trace of humor.
“Told you,” the Old Man shrugged.
“He's not a dog,” Lainie had stopped just short of bristling.
“Just an expression dear, and not an insult,” Marla had promised. “Part of a conversation we had a while back,” she pointed between her and Leon.
Lainie's sullen look proved she didn't like it none-the-less, and Marla hid a grin. Her granddaughter had it bad for Leon's cowboy grandson.
That wasn't bad at all, so far as she was concerned. She had wanted better for her granddaughter. Now she had it. And the timing couldn't have been any better.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
-
“How many more people are you planning on bringing here?” Alicia demanded. “First, it's his girlfriend and two of her followers, then a crowd of his friends. Now it's some woman from the diner and-”
Which was as far as she got before Angela's iron-hard right hand made contact with her left jaw, rocking her back as her head snapped to the right from the open-handed slap.
“Don't say I didn't warn you,” Angela told her darkly. “I've heard your mouth all I want to. And that some woman you were talking about happens to be Amy Mitchell, who is a sister in the church that had been brutally assaulted. Clayton and his friends you so despise managed to save her life and reunite her with her daughter.”
“And we won't be turning away anyone from the church,” Gordon nodded. Even Leon the Elder nodded his agreement to that. Holding her jaw, tears welling in her eyes, Alicia closed her mouth.
“What do we do now?” Robert asked, looking around.
“We keep going,” Gordon told him flatly. “We can't do anything else. Regardless of what shape the world's in, we have to keep living. People lived just fine long before we had any of the things we been used to, and we got a good start thanks to the hard work done by our family.”
“We 'll face hardships I'm sure, but we can handle 'em, so long as we stick together, look out for one another, and do what has to be done to keep us safe and fed. That means we work together, and no more complaining,” he looked pointedly at Alicia. “Enough is enough.”
“Surely this is the worst,” Robert replied. “Right?”
“Are you serious?” Leon the Elder looked at his oldest grandson as if he'd been betrayed. “Seven days down and civilization has already fallen this far and you think this is as far as it goes? Hell boy, people are just now getting hungry enough to do something about it! This? This ain't nothin', boy, I promise you.”
“He's right,” Clay said softly, having been silent up to now, even in the face of his sister's diatribe. “It will only get worse. The damage from the EM won't be fixed. Some of it probably ever. This is our new normal. This and whatever we can make of it. And while I know you're unhappy,” he looked at Alicia, “with the extra people here, I wish it was twice this number. Even then it wouldn't be enough.”
“Enough for what?” Patricia asked, curious.
“We have to protect this place,” Clay replied flatly. “If we lose the farm, lose the herd, then we're done for. We have to protect our homes and families, and we have to protect our way of feeding and providing for ourselves. This first week that hasn't been a problem since there was plenty around to steal. At the diner those people had opened all the canned food that could be eaten without cooking, allowed some of it to ruin, even. Wasted.”
“People are spoiled, entitled, and stupid,” he continued, looking from face to face. “Most won't think it terms of saving anything or trying to get ready for winter, which I remind you is just around the corner. They'll be getting hungry by now, and looking at their neighbors, wondering what they've got, and how they can get it.”
“Once they exhaust that avenue, it 'll be our turn,” Leon the Elder told them grimly. “We live in a society that throws everything away. It's all disposable. Well that society just died a few days ago. There ain't gonna be nothing to throw away no more. Better get used to that, and then resign yourself to making sure no one takes from us. We need what we got to survive and take care of our own. We can share what we don't need among them that ain't got, but is trying. I ain't feedin' no lazy rats o' no kind.”
“So, we turn away the hungry?” Alicia asked carefully. “That's not very Christian,” she said, forgetting or ignoring the fact that she had just moments ago been complaining that they weren't turning away 'Christians'.
“Charity begins in the home, and a man's responsibility is to care for his own first,” Gordon told her. “That's Christian, Ally Cat. Right outta the bible. We will help who we can, after our own needs.”
“We help them that's trying to help themselves,” Leon repeated. “They're the ones who would be likely to help us in return was we to need something. And I'm saying right now, for all to hear, we ain't giving a damn thing to nobody that comes up here demanding we give 'em something. And the first time I hear someone that ain't a part of this operation talk about 'fair shares', I'm shootin' 'em. Just so you all know. Now, I'm going to lay down. I'm a tired and grumpy old man and I need a nap.”
Janice Hardy was waiting just out of ear shot and when Leon started toward his house the girl was beside him in an instant, arm around his waist to support him.
“Hm,” Gordon grunted at the sight, while Clay and Ronny exchanged wry grins. Leon was something else.
“I guess she's going to move in up there?” Alicia had to say.
“Already has,” Clay needled her. “Her and Brick. I think Brick has become the Old Man's body guard. Couldn't say what Janice does for him,” he added with a smirk, knowing damn well that all the girl did was cook, keep the house straight, and help Leon get around when he needed.
“Humph,” Alicia said, but a glare from Angela cut off whatever else she was going to say. The Sanders' daughter hadn't had the best two or three days lately and wasn't going to keep pushing. For now.
“All right,” Gordon said. “We've jawed enough. There's work to be done. Fences to ride, cattle to tend. Let’s be at it.”
“Everyone see the twins and get a radio,” Clay said as the group began to break up. “When you're away from the houses, have it on. Otherwise leave it off to save the batteries. There's a base unit for them set up in one of the new buildings that can hear you from most anywhere in a three-mile radius. That should be good enough.”
“And everyone is armed from now on,” he added, knowing it was going to stir up trouble. “People off the interstate killed Doug at Lorrie's Diner and ...attacked, Amy Mitchell. For days. We can't be sure that people like that won't find their way here eventually. You've all been issued a rifle, so carry it. Handguns too. Everyone was checked out by me or Bear, so no excuses.”
“I don't think I need one,” Patricia shook her head.
“Why don't you ask Amy Mitchell if she thought she needed one?” Clay replied coldly. “Meantime, you carry it. It might be your daughter or niece you have to protect with it.”
-
“What now?” Nolan asked as Clay and Gordy returned to the building where they were keeping the small convoy.
“Gear down for now,” Clay said. “I don't want us out after dark when we can help it,” he motioned to the growing dark. “We 'll try for Jake tomorrow. Since he wasn't at his shop I have to assume he was at home. You guys get chow and have some down time. We 'll head out about oh nine hundred tomorrow. I want it to be good and light so we don't get shot by accident.”
“I like that plan,” Nolan nodded. “See you then.”
-
According to Gordon and Ronny, Jake Sidell lived about four miles down
the road from the Interstate where his service center was located. He ran a wrecker service, Gordon had reminded Clay, so he assumed the wrecker would be in the yard.
“Should be along here somewhere,” Clay said as he slowed. “On the right. Pops said it was a white frame house with a carport and a small front porch. Probably be a wrecker sitting there.”
“Pull behind or a roll-back?” Nolan asked from the gun tub.
“I didn't think to ask,” Clay replied. “How many wreckers you expect to see along this little stretch of road?” Amusement was clear in his voice.
“Hey man, I don't live here,” Nolan shot back.
“You do now, dipshit,” Maseo laughed. “You do now.”
“Point,” Nolan agreed. “And there's a wrecker,” Nolan's voice lost its mirth. “Two o'clock, one hundred yards.”
Sure enough, there was a large tow truck. Clay hadn't expected it to be a semi-wrecker, but he should have he decided, considering that Jake worked on big rigs, on the Interstate.
“Okay,” Clay slowed. “His place looks okay so I'm going to park on the road and approach on foot. Mitch, don't aim the gun at his place. Jake is a friend. I'd rather he not shoot me and I sure don't want him shot.”
“Roger that,” Nolan replied as he secured the big gun and dropped down further into the tub. He could still keep a look out, but wouldn't appear as threatening.
The MRAP slowed and pulled to a stop behind them. Maseo quietly told Gordy and Nate Caudell what they were doing over the radio.
Clay left his rifle in the Hummer and got out, helmet off, hands raised slightly as he made his way up the drive.
“Jake!” he called out. “Jake it's Clay Sanders! Don't shoot me okay? I just wanted to see if you were okay!”
“You always travel with such an escort?” Sidell's voice called back from a window.
“I do nowadays,” Clay admitted. “Are you okay?”
“Hell no, I ain't okay,” Sidell shot back. “I ain't got no power, ain't got no transportation, and ain't got much food. Other than that, though, everything is just peachy. Oh, and ain't got much water, neither,” he added. “Why?”