Apocalypse Law 2

by John Grit

“I heard it,” Nate said. “You’re right. This is public land—or, at least, it was. Either way, it’s not mine and you have every right to be here. I just had to check to see if you’re a threat to me.”

  “I’m no threat. And I can prove it.”

  “How’s that?”

  “I’ve seen your farm, seen you, and your entire clan. Don’t know who’s related to whom, but you got quite a bunch living in that little house.”

  “So?” Nate pulled his rifle tighter against his shoulder.

  “So I’ve been close enough to do damage, but didn’t. I admit all that produce in your field and those yard chickens running around were a real temptation. Been living on fish, mostly. But I knew you would kill me, or I would kill some of you if I went stealing. So here I am.” The man gave Nate a hard look. “And, unfortunately, there you are.”

  “No harm done by me being here.” Nate moved closer, down the trail.

  The man’s eyes changed, but he said nothing.

  Nate took two more steps and was about to stop when the man spoke.

  “There’s a trap just in front of you.”

  “Oh?” Nate feigned mild surprise.

  “Won’t kill you. But you’ll be upside down with a snare around your leg if you keep walking.”

  “Nice of you to warn me.”

  “Yes. Wasn’t it?” The man smiled for the first time.

  Nate relaxed. “Next time you set one, hide your spring tree better. I saw the bent cypress before coming on in.”

  The man laughed. “You were testing me. What would you have done if it looked like I was going to let you walk into it?”

  “Nothing. I would have backed away and left you here. With instructions to stay away from my farm. And I never would have trusted you again.”

  “Well, if you’re not going to shoot me, I need to get back to work.” The man pointed at the doe carcass with his knife.

  “Go ahead. Just stay away from that rifle.”

  He cut another strip of venison and hung it on the rack. “What now?”

  “Haven’t decided,” Nate said. “Either I walk away and leave you to your caveman life, or invite you to dinner.”

  “You mean that?” The man stopped cutting a strip off the deer.

  “Sure. I would like to know a little about you first.”

  “Not much to know. I owned Sam’s Garage. Inherited it from my father. I’m sure you heard of it.”

  “Been there,” Nate said. “Or my wife had. She had a breakdown once, and called you. She said you came out with a wrecker and brought her and the truck to your garage. Treated her honestly. Even let her keep the groceries she had just bought in your fridge while you worked on the truck.”

  “My father taught me that you’ll make more in the long run if you value your reputation and treat people right.” The man put his knife on a log. “Grew up on the other side of the county. When the plague hit, everyone was dead in three months. I mean everyone in my house, and my wife’s family, too. Then I got sick and it nearly killed me, but for some reason I pulled through. This old woman saved me. She lived down the road. And God or luck, I guess. Now I’m glad we never had kids. Would’ve been one more hurt to go through.” He scratched at his thick black beard. “Emily and I talked about it. Business was doing good. We had a little put away, so she could stop work at the Greasy Spoon. That’s what we called the country cooking restaurant she worked at.” He looked away. “That’s all over now.”

  Nate could not look at the man for a few seconds. “Can’t say as I trust you completely after our little talk, but if you want to come in for food to take with you or a meal, we can spare some. Just don’t steal it or sneak around. We’re a bit jumpy about that.”

  “Don’t blame you. I stayed back from your farm for that reason.” The man looked down at the mud in front of him. “It’s been getting worse. I was thinking people would be working together by now. But it’s even worse than the initial panic. Travel is suicide.”

  Nate’s jaw set. “People will reorganize. Don’t know how long, but it will happen.”

  The man shrugged his shoulders. “Got to deal with today first. I don’t even think about tomorrow.”

  Nate got the feeling he was saying he did not care anymore. “Come in with your rifle over your head in daylight and in the open. No one will shoot. You will be welcome.”

  “Thanks. My name is Sam Boonbeck.”

  “Nate Williams. You really should come over sometime soon.”

  “Maybe in a few days.”

  “Good.” Nate backed away and headed home.

  Chapter 4

  Nate pumped fuel from a fifty-five gallon drum into the Cat dozer’s tank.

  Brian looked up, squinting in the sunlight. “I don’t see why I can’t go. You need someone to ride shotgun.”

  “Deni will do that. I need you here, protecting the farm. There’s still produce to be harvested, too.”

  Brian sulked away without a word.

  When he had the tank full, Nate jumped down and continued to check the Cat over.

  Deni met Brian at the door. She smiled, but he brushed by her.

  She joined Nate and watched him tighten the fuel drum’s lid with a spanner. “You two have a fight?”

  He threw the spanner in a toolbox and slammed the lid shut, snapping its two latches down. “No. He wants to go. I guess it’s a boy thing.”

  They started for the barn, he carrying the toolbox and fuel pump.

  “More likely it’s a father and son thing,” she said.

  “Could be a lot of things. Maybe he just wants to get away from the farm, spend time with me, or get out of working the fields. He’s a boy. Boys don’t always think like adults.”

  She waited until he set the toolbox on a workbench and hung the pump on a wall next to other tools. “He’s a good boy being raised by a good man.”

  Nate was bent down to pick up a coil of heavy cable. He stopped short and stood, looking at her.

  “He needs to know you can trust him in an emergency,” Deni said. “Taking me with you—a woman—in his eyes makes it look like you don’t. He’s at the age that he’s trying to be a man.”

  “I don’t want him to be a man yet. I just want him to do what I say. And he does not need to prove anything. I want him to live long enough to get to be a man. Proving what kind of man he is could get him killed.”

  Deni’s face revealed she meant what she was saying. “He will be with you. And that’s the safest place he can possibly be.”

  “You have military training. The fact you’re a woman has nothing to do with it. He’s a thirteen-year-old boy. I need you out there and him here. It’s as simple as that.”

  “It’s not that simple, and you know it. You didn’t get this far with him not knowing things like that.”

  “It could be dangerous.”

  “You’re only going to the bridge, but he’s your son. I’m just saying his heart is important, too.”

  She walked out of the barn.

  He carried the coil of cable out to the Cat and draped it over the engine cowling. Deni headed for the observation post to relieve Cindy, rifle in hand.

  Starting for the barn, he turned on his heels and then went looking for Brian.

  Nate found him at the dining table, helping Caroline with butter beans. Martha was there also.

  “Brian, where did I put the logging chains?” Nate asked.

  “It’s in the wood box where all the chain is. I didn’t touch it.” Brian dropped beans in a bowl.

  “I need your help.” Nate motioned for Brian to follow. “We’ll need the chain, too. Cable’s not long enough.”

  Brian got up, a puzzled look on his face. He slung his shotgun on a shoulder and followed his father out the door.

  When in the barn, Nate stopped and turned to Brian. “This is what we in the Army called an all-or-nothing mission.”

  He looked up at his father. “What?”

  “If we don’t come across anyon
e who wants to hurt us, it will be an easy ride to the bridge and back. But if there is anyone on the road between here and there, we’ll be sitting ducks on that dozer. I don’t want you sitting behind me.”

  “If it’s that dangerous, why go at all?”

  Nate checked a can of hydraulic fluid, finding it nearly empty. He put it back on the shelf. “Destroying the bridge means less trouble coming down the road. Any gas left is getting old now, but diesel will be good for some time. More trouble could drive right up to the farm any day.”

  Brian looked down with his shoulders slumped. “I don’t want you to go.”

  “Why?”

  “Because.”

  Nate cleared his throat. “Now you know why I don’t want you to go. It’s that simple. There’s nothing more to it. And since I’m your father, I get to tell you to stay while I go.”

  Brian looked up from the ground to his father. “Shit! That’s real nice.”

  “The decision is all on my shoulders—and the consequences—that’s what’s real nice. So stop bitching and help me with the chains.”

  Brian did not move. “It’s all a matter of luck, then. And you always said never trust your life to luck.”

  “If you have any ideas on lowering risks, speak up. But for now, we have to get those heavy chains to the dozer.”

  “When are you leaving?”

  “Tomorrow morning.” Nate reached for the chains.

  “Sorry I said shit. I forgot you don’t want me to cuss anymore.” Brian looked up at his father. “That’s two times.”

  ~~~~

  Nate woke with a feeling something was wrong. He turned his head to look where Brian slept on the living room floor a few feet from him. In the dark of 2 AM, someone stood over Brian. The form moved away and into the dining room where dim starlight streamed in from a window.

  It was Caroline.

  She got a glass of water and quietly slipped past him and down the hall. Brian’s bedroom door closed. He could hear whispering between Caroline and Carrie. Their voices rose for a short time and became insistent. Then the room fell silent.

  Nate did not sleep. An hour before he planned to wake, he got up, stood over Brian, and struck a match. Flame flared up. For a few seconds, Nate saw his son sleeping peacefully, his chest rising in a slow rhythm.

  Brian’s eyes opened partway. His father’s face glowed in the flame’s light, eyes warm and soft. Such a rugged face did not often reveal tender emotions. All sleep fled from Brian, but he did not stir, mesmerized by what he saw. The flame in Nate’s hand died, but the image lived on.

  ~~~~

  “Someone’s out there in the beans,” Cindy yelled. “He’s got a rifle, but he’s holding it over his head like he’s surrendering or something.”

  Nate grabbed his rifle. “Don’t shoot without good reason.”

  Everyone in the house scrambled to look out a window toward the field. Everyone but Ben. He did what SOP dictated and went to the east window to stand watch.

  Deni was pulling security at the observation post, her second shift in fourteen hours. Still early, the sun not yet over the tallest treetops, fog obscured much of the lower field, but Nate was certain she had her rifle on him.

  Caroline’s hands were wet from doing dishes. She glanced at Carrie, who was leaning against Martha, shivering, eyes wide.

  Carrie grew more upset. “Don’t let him. Please, kill him now before he hurts me.”

  “You’re safe here,” Martha said, “No one is going to hurt you ever again.” She held Carrie with one arm, holding a rifle with the other.

  Tommy came running down the hall. “Mommy! Daddy said to stay with you.” Now Martha had two frightened children to console. Her arms were full. She could not shoot if she had to.

  Brian stood beside his father just long enough to appraise the scene, and then ran to a back window, his shotgun ready.

  Nate turned from watching the man approach. “Brian, get your lever-action.”

  “Okay.” Brian ran into Nate’s bedroom and opened the safe. Slinging his shotgun across his back and grabbing a box of cartridges and the rifle, he swung the safe’s heavy door closed and spun the lock’s dial. Boots pounding on the wood floor, he ran down the hall into the living room.

  “Catch your breath,” Nate said. “It’s the man I met in the swamp. I don’t expect trouble, but be ready to shoot if necessary. Deni’s out there, too, remember.”

  Brian nodded and jacked a round into the chamber.

  Nate brought a chair over so Brian could sit back from the window. Then he brought another chair over and set it with the back toward Brian, so he could use it to steady his aim. “Keep yourself calm so you can think and shoot straight.”

  “He probably just wants a handout,” Brian said.

  “More than likely. I told him he could visit.” Nate walked out into the front yard and pushed his M14’s safety off.

  The man stood, his rifle held over his head. He had to yell to cross the distance. “I decided to take you up on your offer. Hunger drove me to it.”

  “Most of us already ate, but you’re in time for breakfast, anyway. Put your rifle down and leave it, then come on in the house, Mr. Sam Boonbeck.”

  He did as directed and walked up to Nate. “I cleaned myself up as best I could, but I’m still not fit for socializing.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Nate said, “we all are just surviving nowadays. There’s a bar of soap by the pump. I’ll work the handle, so you can wash your hands.”

  After he washed, Nate opened the door, and the man followed.

  “Here.” Nate gave him a towel from the kitchen counter to dry his hands on.

  Carrie became more upset.

  “Come with me,” Martha said. “You, too, Tommy.” She led Carrie and her son to Brian’s bedroom and closed the door.

  Sam seemed uncomfortable. He stood there as Brian held his rifle pointed safely at the ceiling. There could be no mistake about Brian’s—and everyone else’s—distrust of him.

  “This is Sam Boonbeck, everyone,” Nate said. He introduced all in the room. Brian merely nodded, but the others were friendly enough.

  Caroline blushed when Sam’s eyes lingered on her face, despite her scars. She lowered her eyes and gave a slight smile, running her hand over her short hair self-consciously. He smiled back with confidence.

  Nate and Sam talked while Nate scrambled eggs. Caroline left and joined Martha in Brian’s bedroom. Brian slung his rifle, kept his shotgun in his hands, and stayed back, watching.

  They had leftover pork already cooked, so Nate heated it and sliced and buttered bread for him.

  Sam wolfed down the food. “You guys have it made here.”

  “I guess we have it better than many,” Nate said.

  His mouth full, Sam nodded. “I’d say. Damn, this is good.” He took a drink. “Pork’s wild, isn’t it?”

  Nate sat in a chair across from him. “We’ve been eating a lot of wild pork lately.”

  “You got some chicks I saw, so you’ll be enjoying a chicken dinner or two soon.”

  “Come winter, we’ll slaughter a few of the older hens. Their egg production will be dropping off soon. We’re not exactly overburdened with supplies, though. There are a lot of things we could use more of.”

  He wiped his plate with a slice of bread. “But at least you’re not going hungry and you have a roof over your head.”

  “That’s true.”

  Sam scratched his face and pulled at his beard. It reached down to his chest. “That was the best food I’ve had in months. Food, hell—it’s the only real food I’ve had in months.” He looked Nate in the eye. “I thank you for it. And I thank you for not shooting me out there in the swamp.”

  “I don’t shoot unless I have to, and we help people when we can. So far, you’ve given me no reason to consider you a threat.”

  “I’m not, but me just saying it will never be enough. I wish there was some way to convince you. I think maybe I coul
d be of use to your clan…and improve my living conditions considerably.”

  Nate’s face was unreadable. His eyes fixed on Sam. “Seems you’ve been doing some thinking.”

  He smiled. “Yep, and I’m hoping you wanted me to. I’m hoping that’s mostly what that visit you paid me was about. That and checking to see if I needed killing.”

  Cindy broke in. “He’s the best friend you could ever have—and the worst enemy. Everyone here but Tommy can shoot. We won’t be easy. If anyone comes to raid us, they’ll pay a high price.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” Sam said. “It’s obvious you’re proud of your father.”

  Brian nearly shouted, “He’s not her father, he’s mine. Her father’s in the back room watching with a rifle in case you got people out there waiting.”

  Sam smiled. “Sorry for the mix-up. Thanks for setting me straight. I don’t know the familial situation around here.”

  Nate leaned closer and put his massive arms on the table. “Just so you know: this is not a clan, as you call us. My son and I took in the Neelys and they’ve been a great help. Recently, Carrie and Caroline kind of fell into our lives when they were captured by two-legged animals. They put those scars on them. Those two are less trusting than the rest of us. So keep that in mind.”

  “Oh, God. That’s why the girl was upset when I came in? Caroline seemed to be…well, some women are kind of shy, even at her age. I didn’t think she was overwhelmed by my masculine charm.” He laughed. “My aroma maybe. But…I thought maybe there was something about me that bothered her.”

  Nate leaned back in his chair. “Just be mindful of what they’ve been through if you want to impress me.”

  “I will.”

  “There’s another woman living here, too,” Nate said. “Don’t be worrying about scaring her. She’ll cut your head off and hand it to you if you try anything. She’s Army, and she knows her way around guns and combat. Right now, she’s pulling security and over watching from a distance.”

  “Damn. She probably had me in her sights the whole time I was in the field.”

  “No doubt,” Nate said. “I warned everyone you might show up. That may have saved you.”

  Sam’s eyes lit up. “So, she’s kind of a he-man woman?” His mouth turned to a smirk surrounded by beard.