by John Grit
She yawned, squirmed until her feet were on the couch and she was on her back, and closed her eyes.
“I thought so,” Nate whispered.
When Nate came back in to check on her after milking, feeding, and watering the cow, he found her still asleep. He then went to the barn to feed and water the chickens. While in the barn, he searched for several items. First, he grabbed a spool of insulated double-strand wire and six plates of glass, twelve inches square. He took those items in the house. In Brian’s bedroom, he opened a desk drawer and got out notebook paper and masking tape. He returned to the living room where he taped a sheet of paper on each plate of glass and stuffed the wire in his backpack and wrapped the glass in an extra shirt, putting it in the middle of his pack where it would be protected somewhat.
Searching the hall closet netted him a bag of wooden clothespins. He took those into his bedroom and got a steel box out of the closet. There, he found an eight-pound can of Bullseye gunpowder, the fastest burning powder he had. They did not have time to get all of his reloading supplies hidden in the woods and the powder had been left behind. It was two-thirds full.
Next, he grabbed four rechargeable nine volt and four one and a half volt batteries that were still in the charger, being powered by a solar panel on the roof of the house.
Nate checked on Synthia. She was still asleep. Then he headed back out to the barn with the clothespins and gunpowder.
Using a hand-cranked brace, he drilled holes in half a dozen clothespins, the kind where the ends touched each other under spring pressure. Then he got a small propane torch off a shelf, and soldered wire to the heads of a dozen eight-penny nails. When the nails cooled, he cut them so they would just go through the clothespins, leaving the heads on the inside. All it took was a small hammer and punch to tap them in all the way.
He found eight feet of two-inch pipe behind the barn and used a hacksaw to cut six eight-inch-long pieces. Back in the barn, he put his vice and pipe-threader to work, and then threaded both ends of every piece.
Where did Brian put that stuff?
Nate climbed a ladder and searched a high shelf. He finally found a cobweb-covered, stained cardboard box and took it down. When Brian was ten, his hobby had been flying remote-controlled model planes. Nate grabbed all the glow plugs in the box and put them in a plastic bag, leaving it on the floor. Brian also played with rockets back then. Nate found what he was looking for and took the bag and other items to his workbench.
He counted four electric glow plugs and three rocket fuel igniters.
It took an hour to install the improvised igniters—or blasting caps. Finishing the job only took a few more minutes. He had three glow plugs left over.
Nate carried everything to the house. He emptied his pack and put the heavy pipe in the bottom, along with the wire, putting the glass on top, still wrapped in a spare shirt.
I wish I had thought of this a long time ago. I could have made a couple of bigger bombs and blown that bridge and this would have been over the first night.
Synthia was still asleep when he walked by the couch and down the hall to Beth’s room. All of Beth’s clothes would be too big for her. They had to do anyway. He grabbed the most utilitarian items and stuffed them in his now-full backpack. In the closet, he found two relatively new pairs of shoes; one he put in the pack, the other he put beside pants and a T-shirt.
Nate started out the door. He stopped to wipe his face before going down the hall. Seeing his little girl’s clothes and giving them to Synthia meant more to him than he thought it would.
After taking a bath in the barn and changing clothes, Nate checked the tub of water he had filled with the hand pump in front of the house and left in the sun. He decided it was as warm as it was going to get.
“Time to wake up, Synthia.” Nate shook her gently.
She opened her eyes. “I’m hungry.”
“We’ll eat in a few minutes, but first you’ve got to have a bath and clean clothes.” Nate was more concerned with the disease that killed her grandmother than her hygiene. He wanted to reduce the danger of bringing the sickness to the others, and that was why he took the time to clean himself up. After her bath, he would bury her old clothes. Nate knew if she carried the disease, it would be inside her, but he couldn’t even think of leaving her alone to die. What was the point of surviving if the price was their humanity? He knew Brian would agree.
She shivered in the water while Nate worked as fast as he could.
“Close your eyes. I have to wash your hair. This lye soap will sting.”
Synthia kept watching him until some soap ran down her forehead into her eyes.
He had to pour a bucket over her head to stop her from crying. “Is that better now?”
She still cried.
“We’re done.” He soon had her dried off and dressed.
“We can eat now, if you stop crying.” Nate carried her in the house and sat her at the table.
Nate heated water on the stove and reconstituted freeze-dried spaghetti. Some saltine crackers were left, and a small packet of freeze-dried applesauce, which he put in a coffee cup with warm water.
“After you eat the spaghetti, you can have this whole cup of applesauce.”
She stretched her body and leaned over to look into the cup. Her eyes flashed to him. “Is it good?”
“You bet it is, but I’m giving it all to you, because I feel bad about getting soap in your eyes.”
She smiled. “That’s okay. I always cry when I get soap in my eyes.” She already had her face smeared with spaghetti sauce. “You’re really not a mean man. At least, you’re not mean to little girls.” She shoveled another forkful into her mouth.
“No. I’m never mean to little girls. It’s a rule I have.”
Her bowl was nearly empty. “I’m not afraid of you.”
“Good. There’s no need to be.” He refilled her bowel. “Eat some crackers. It’s the closest thing to bread we’ve got.”
Nate kept looking outside while she ate the applesauce. After checking out the front window and seeing no danger, he closed the shutter and then put his pack on and leaned his rifle against the table.
“Let me clean your face and then we’ll go.” Nate wet a rag and wiped the spaghetti sauce off. “There, now I can see you.”
A rumble in the distance spurred Nate into action. He picked her up, grabbed his rifle, and ran for the front door. His hand shook as he fished a key out of his pocket and turned the deadbolt. The rumbling was getting closer. It sounded like several Harleys coming down his drive.
You’ve hurt her your last time. No victims today, bastards.
Nate ran around to the back of the house just as three men on Harleys rode up.
Chapter 14
Brian looked out the loophole. His mind did not see what his eyes were seeing. He was looking inward.
Deni noticed something on Brian’s face when he turned to look down at a topographic chart he had in his hand. “Your father is okay.”
Brian’s eyes flashed to her. “You don’t know any more than I do.”
She came closer and put her left hand on his shoulder. Looking down at the map, she said, “The worst thing you can do is go after him. He wants you here—all of us here—so we will be safe.”
Looking out the loophole again, Brian said, “He’s out there alone.”
“If anyone goes, it will be me.” Deni put the palm of her hand on his face and turned him to her. “I’m the soldier. Your job is to protect our friends here.”
“But I don’t think you’re well yet. You don’t even know if you can shoot, or if you can walk very far.”
Deni stepped back. “Well, in that case, why don’t I just grab my pack and carbine and patrol the area and we’ll both find out how far I can walk?”
Martha broke in. “It’s too soon.”
“You know…” Deni put her hands up as if to tell them to back off. “I don’t need anyone’s permission.” She bent over to pick up he
r pack. To steady herself, she had to put her hand against a wall. Everyone noticed.
“You’re still dizzy, Deni.” Martha sounded like she was talking to one of her children.
“I’m not going far,” Deni said. “It will be good for me.”
Ben was sleeping after pulling a four-hour security shift. He got up from his sleeping bag on the floor. “Let’s both go for a walk. I’m going stir crazy in this coffin.”
“Don’t call it that,” Martha said.
Ben smiled at the tone of her voice. “We’ve all been cooped up in here for so long we’re going to be at each other’s throat soon. Let us go for a walk and have a look to see if anyone’s been snooping around.”
“Tomorrow, a couple more can go on patrol,” Brian said. “We need to know what’s going on out there, anyway.” He looked out the loophole. “I want to check out the farm.”
Ben and Martha gave each other a worried glance.
Deni shook her head, but said nothing.
~~~~
Nate put Synthia under a wide oak that must have been more than one hundred years old. “Okay, little baby girl. I need you to sit here and do not go anywhere until I get back.”
Synthia looked up at him suspiciously. “Where are you going?”
“I have to go shoot my rifle a few times. You may hear the shots, but I’m just going to test it.”
She gave him an expression that told him she did not believe what he said.
“It will be a while, but I will be back. Just stay right here and do not walk away, not even a little. I promise I’ll be back. And then we can go to the other house.”
Her eyes rounded. “But if you don’t come back.”
“I will.” Nate took his pack off and set it by her. “See, I’ll have to come back for my stuff anyway. It’s got my food and water in it.”
She looked up at him, bewildered.
Nate got down on his knees and held her. She nearly disappeared in his massive arms. “I will be coming back for you, not my pack. I just want you to take care of it for a while. I won’t be gone long.” He stood. Okay?”
She nodded.
Nate ran for the house. He planned to waste no time on these killers.
He heard shooting before he was close enough to see the house. Keeping low and behind cover, Nate made his way closer until he could peer out from the edge of the tree line and across the bean field.
They were shooting the front door apart. Finding Nate’s grandfather had built doors too solid to kick down, their frustration forced them to waste bullets.
Two shot at the door while one kept watch with his carbine ready. The killers’ three motorcycles stood in the front yard.
Nate adjusted the back sight on his rifle. It was an easy shot, but he had to be quick or the last man would have time to run for cover. If that happened, Nate would have to leave one of them alive. He was not going to leave Synthia alone the amount of time it would take to maneuver into position to kill him.
It took Nate two minutes to get into his natural point of aim and set up his shooting sling so he could shoot from prone. It took him two seconds to kill all three men.
After the last shot, Nate crawled deeper into the woods.
Working around behind the house and coming across to the driveway, Nate kept his rifle shouldered and ready. He looked down the drive and searched the woods on both sides, while staying hidden. They could have had a man over watching for security, and he was not just going to walk out into the front yard until he was sure there were no more killers around.
Evidently, this bunch had no military-trained men among them. He found no sign of anyone else. Nate was beginning to think there were cliques within the larger group of killers, some military-trained, others not. They probably just fell together because they felt more secure in a large group.
Rushing to the motorbikes, he kickstarted one and rode it into the woods as far as he could before it got too thick for him to go farther. Then he ran back, rode another bike into the woods, and hid it.
Searching the bodies produced three AR-15 carbines, some loose ammunition, seven thirty-round magazines, and one Browning 9mm pistol with one extra magazine. There was some money and personal items, such as small knives, matches, and bloodstained wedding bands. He dropped the rings in the dirt. You bastards cut these off your victims. Nate carried the guns, ammunition, and knives into the woods and piled leaves over them.
Nate then ran into the barn and got a rope. Running to the dead men, he piled one on the other and tied them together. He left ten feet of slack in the rope when he tied the end to the back of the Harley.
One last look down the drive, and Nate slung his rifle across his back, jumped on the bike, and cranked it. Its engine roared when he revved it up, but coughed when he let it idle. Nate managed to keep it running by twisting the throttle and never letting it idle down again. In first gear, he pulled the dead men across the field, flattening cornstalks that had already been picked clean of corn, and down to the river swamp.
These old Harleys have a lot of torque. Even with bad gas, it’s pulling these bastards like a two-wheeled tractor.
Nate didn’t bother to look back at the dead men as he dragged them as far as he could into the swamp. The Harley finally got stuck in deep mud, so he got off and left it there. He used the rope to pull the bodies, one at a time, the rest of the way down to the river. He left them for alligator food and ran for Synthia.
Nate was out of breath when he reached the oak tree he left her under.
She was gone.
“Synthia!” Nate searched the area, his eyes flitting from one spot to another.
A crunch of leaves drew his attention. His eyes caught movement behind a bush, low to the ground.
“I’m here.” Synthia came around the bush into view.
Nate rushed to her and picked her up.
“I heard guns, so I hid,” she said.
“Okay. We have to go for another boat ride.” Nate set her down long enough to put his pack on. He grabbed her and his rifle and took off for the river.
Neither of them spoke until they were in the canoe.
Nate paddled against the current. “I told you to stay where you were. I said you would hear me shooting, so that shouldn’t have scared you.”
Synthia gave him a stern, serious look. “I took care of your pack like you said. There it is.” She kicked at it where Nate tied it to a strut for safety against loss.
Nate chuckled. “Yeah, okay. We don’t need to get into a fuss about it. Why don’t you lie down? It will be a while, and you might as well rest.”
She squirmed until she was comfortable in the bottom of the canoe, yawned, took one last look at the treetops flowing over her where they hung out over the river, and closed her eyes.
The rugged features on Nate’s face softened. You scared the hell of out me.
Synthia was still asleep when Nate turned into the mouth of the creek. The canoe was light on her end, even with Nate’s pack in the middle, so the bow was nearly out of the water, but Nate’s weight forced the rear of the canoe deep. When his end scraped across a submerged log, jolting them, Synthia woke. She seemed afraid at first. Her eyes flashed around, taking in what she could see from the bottom of the canoe. However, when she looked back and saw Nate, she rubbed her eyes and sat up, smiling.
“We’ll be walking again soon,” Nate said. “It won’t be much farther after that.”
They came around a sharp bend, startling an otter. It slid into the creek and took off, pushing a bow wave ahead of it.
Synthia pointed and started to stand.
“Hey. Get back down. You’ll turn the canoe over or fall out.” Nate pointed the canoe toward shore.
She ignored him. Standing on her knees, she held onto the bow gunnels, searching for the otter. “What was that?”
“An otter.”
She looked over her left shoulder at Nate. “Where did it go?”
“Up the creek. It can swim fast
er than I can paddle. It’s gone.” He put the paddle down and rubbed his right arm. Exercise seemed to be good for it. The numbness was fading. “Get back down. You can see plenty well enough while you are sitting.”
She ignored him, too engrossed in this new world she was discovering. Her head could not be still, turning one way and then the other, her eyes drinking in the swamp jungle around her.
Nate deftly maneuvered around or over many logs. The creek narrowed as they made their way, and more logs and weeds choked the water flow.
A half-mile further revealed another new creature she had never seen. A snapper turtle took off in the shallow water, leaving a cloud of mud in its wake. More than two feet across its back, it was one of the largest Nate had ever seen.
She giggled and pointed, looking back at Nate, as if to ask if he had seen it.
“That was a big turtle, wasn’t it?” He forgot to warn her to sit down.
She nodded, and then resumed searching the water, leaning over the bow.
Nate decided that was enough. He eased the canoe onto the bank where it sloped upward. It was muddy there, but seemed solid enough. Everywhere else, the creek had cut into the earth, leaving a drop-off one foot or more high.
“Sit down while I try to push the canoe further onto dry land.” The water was only six inches deep, and Nate readied to push off from the bottom with his paddle.
As soon as she sat down again, he shoved. In less than five minutes, he had them both on dry land and the canoe hid by a rotted cypress stump, turned bottom side up to shed rain.
He lifted her. “You’re getting heavier every time I pick you up.”
“I’m getting bigger,” she said, her arms around his neck.
“We have a little walk ahead of us, but we’re almost there now. I could have paddled closer before we started walking, but I couldn’t get you to stay sitting down. I was afraid you were going to turn the canoe over.”
“I wanted to see.”
Nate noticed she was still looking around for more animals. “Well, now you can see everything I can. Can’t you, kiddo?”