by D. Gideon
“We only packed enough in case one of us got hurt,” Corey said. “We should save it.”
“I know,” I muttered, but I was sorely tempted to get it out and take it anyway. Space in the get-home bags had been at a premium, so we’d put one small travel-sized pill bottle into each of our first aid baggies and filled it with eight each of ibuprofen, acetominophen, and benadryl. There was a blister sheet of stay-awake pills and another of anti-diarrheal, along with lots of band-aids and antibiotic creme, but none of that would help me. I rolled my head back and forth on my neck and shuffled over to the window. Mel followed.
“Oh wow,” I said, squinting. Even without the binoculars, I could see a mass of cars in front of Target. It had gone from a tailgate party to the size of a crowd waiting for a Black Friday sale. “That’s a lot of people.”
“Not there,” Corey said, huffing. “There.” He pointed down into the hotel parking lot. I looked, but didn’t see anything special, and shrugged. That set off a new cluster of aches, and I winced.
“Your situational awareness sucks, Ripley,” Marco said, leaning against another window and crossing his arms. “What did we practice earlier? What’s different?”
“Well I wasn’t the one staring out the window, so I’ve got no friggin’ clue,” Mel said.
I blinked at the parking lot and rubbed my shoulder. I tried to remember what it had looked like before I went to sleep, but honestly I hadn’t been paying that much attention. There hadn’t been anyone moving around in our lot, so I’d been more interested in what was going on over by the stores.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Just tell me.”
Corey held up a set of keys and jingled them, his eyebrows wiggling.
“You stole a car?” Mel said, her voice shocked.
“We borrowed a truck,” Corey corrected her. “When it runs out of fuel, we’ll leave it where the owners can find it. That one right there.”
I followed his pointing finger and raised my eyebrows. It was a small box truck, with faded letters on the side advertising Haverty’s furniture store and free delivery.
“How?” I said, taking the keys. The keychain had a thick paper tab hanging from it, proclaiming it to be Truck #3.
“It was in the tune-up and oil change place on the other side of the hotel,” Corey said. “Inside the garage. They’d pulled the plug on the oil pan and left it to drain.”
“Someone had already smashed the key box off the wall outside and busted it open,” Marco said. “All the keys in it were gone. Who knows what they stole.”
“Could’ve been owners coming to get their cars back,” Corey said, shrugging. “Either way, either they hadn’t gotten brave enough to break into the shop itself, or they didn’t want a big truck. It was just sitting in there with the keys in it and the oil all drained out.”
“We put the plug back in, filled it back up with oil, and drove it over here,” Marco added. “They had the new filter and the oil sitting next to it already, but we didn’t bother putting the new filter in.”
“Is the gas tank full?” Mel asked. “That thing’s going to eat gas.”
“It’s sitting on empty,” Corey said, and when Mel groaned he held up a finger. “But it’s not gas. It’s diesel.”
“We can cut the fuel,” I said quickly. I’d done it dozens of times on my old diesel VW bug, whenever I was out of cash and my tank was running low. It was hell on the fuel filter, but when you were between a rock and an empty wallet, it was better than walking.
“Exactly,” Corey said, grinning. He pointed towards the shopping plaza. “Target’s got shelves full of nice clean canola oil. If we cut it close, we might be able to get seventy, maybe eighty miles out of it before the fuel filter chokes up.”
“Hold up,” Mel said, looking doubtful. “You’re gonna wade into that mess for some canola oil? Can’t we just go into a McDonalds that’s already been broken into or something and get the crap they cook french fries in? You could just scoop it out, and not have to worry about someone trying to kill you.”
“We could use that oil, but we’d have to try to filter it and get it clean,” I said. “It’s full of tiny pieces of food that would clog the whole system up in just a mile or two if we put it straight in the tank.” I looked back out at Target’s parking lot and frowned. “That’s a big risk though, Corey. There have to be hundreds of people there now.”
“And none of them will be going for the cooking oil,” Corey said. “We should be able to go straight for it and get out-“
“What’s this we shit?” Mel said, one eyebrow cocked. “I ain’t going near that place.”
“We need as many gallons of oil as possible,” Corey said. “The three of us could get at least two each, and depending on how long it takes Marco to grab a new pair of shoes, he might be able to get a couple more. Every gallon we get is another eight miles or so that we don’t have to walk, Mel.”
“That’s almost a day of walking, if we go by the thirteen miles we did today,” Marco said. “And when you’re not used to walking like this, you never do as much the next few days as you do on the first. It takes four or five days to get your muscles stretched out. Until then, you get exhausted more quickly and do less each day.”
I put the keys down and picked up the binoculars, scanning the crowd at Target. People were starting to mill around in front of the doors. I could see a few with baseball bats. Were those for the doors, for people that got in their way, or both? I pulled the binoculars down and handed them to Marco, who had his hand out and was wriggling his fingers in a “gimme” motion.
“Going into that crowd is incredibly stupid and dangerous,” I said. “We could all get seriously hurt.”
“I know, Rip,” Corey said. “But think it out. We could get over halfway home. We’d cut off six or seven days of walking. And who knows? We might be able to find another station with a generator, get some more diesel, and drive all the way home. It’s worth the risk.”
I sighed. He was right, and the chances of that crowd going for canola oil before things like televisions and clothes was really slim. The smart ones would be getting food, but they’d probably be focused on pre-cooked stuff like canned soups and tuna fish. The baking aisle, where cooking oil usually was, only had stuff to cook from scratch with—it would probably be the last one they’d hit.
Mel sighed, dug around in her pack, and pulled out a pair of jeans. Without hesitation, she dropped her long skirt to the floor, sat on the bed, and started putting the jeans on.
“What?” She said. “You’ve all seen panties before, and I ain’t going into the middle of a bunch of hyped-up men wearing a skirt. Even one that goes down to my ankles.” She stood and fastened the jeans, then slid her feet into her boots and began lacing them up.
“Okay,” I said, stepping over to my own boots and sliding them on. “But we do it as fast as we can. In and out. If someone wants to fight over it, drop the oil and run. We can’t risk getting a serious injury.”
“If we’re going, we need to get over there now,” Marco said, lowering the binoculars. “Everyone’s out of their cars, and they’re getting ready to bust the doors in. It’s now or never.”
Corey made sure everyone had a small flashlight while I tied my boots as fast as I could. We checked to make sure there was no one in the hall and left, sprinting down the stairs. As we hurried across the parking lot, I looked back and saw King’s silhouette in the window, watching us. I hoped he didn’t get the idea to try to come through the screen and jump out from that high up.
Halfway to the store, we heard the crowd roar and the sound of smashing glass echoed across the parking lot. At Haverty’s, a truck’s engine revved, and a box truck much like the one Corey had stolen backed into the front doors in a rush and then jumped forward, leaving a gaping hole. All across the plaza, crowds crashed through the store windows in a tsunami of people and cheering. Marco started running, and the rest of us followed suit. It was bedlam, and we were heading straigh
t into it.
“People ain’t got no sense!” I yelled, and running beside me, Corey burst out laughing.
I just hoped we were going to get out of this alive.
CHAPTER 30
T uesday, September 4th
Snow Hill, Maryland
Dotty and Pastor Bill heard the crowd before they saw them. A cacophony of angry voices and intermittent yelling, accompanied by the low roar that comes from the conversations of a gathering of people.
“I hope Sheriff Kane’s got all his boys out here this evening,” Bill said. “This could get ugly fast.”
“Maybe we should just go, Bill,” Dotty said.
“We can’t run from this, Dotty. The community needs to see that we—the community leaders—are all here. That they’re being heard. That we’re here for them, and we’re in this together.” He pointed to the small stage. “There by the stage is where Mayor Wilhelm said to meet him. Let’s make our way over there.”
They skirted the edge of the crowd, and Dorothy looked for Cathy and Dan. There they were. Not quite at the front of the crowd, but close enough to the stage that if the crowd started pushing forward, they’d be in trouble with no quick route away from the fray.
“People ain’t got no good sense,” Dotty muttered. Pastor Bill was too intent on weaving a path around the crowd for them to hear her.
“Pastor Flannigan! Good to see you,” the Mayor gushed, reaching eagerly for Bill’s hand and pumping it furiously. “The crowd’s getting antsy, and my special guest hasn’t show up yet. If it takes much longer, I’ll have to go on without her.”
“And here I thought I would be your special guest,” Bill said with a chuckle.
“Well, no offense Pastor, but I think this group is past the point of getting a feel-good, love your neighbor sermon. They want answers.”
“Don’t we all,” a rough voice said from over Dotty’s shoulder. Startled, she turned and gave Sheriff Kane a light smack on the arm.
“Simon! You know not to sneak up on an old woman! Your momma taught you better than that!”
The mountain of a man blushed a bit and ducked his head, taking off his cowboy hat.
“My apologies, Miss Dotty. My momma did teach me better, and I’d appreciate you not telling her I slipped up.” This last was said with a grin.
“You just make sure it doesn’t happen again.” Dotty smiled at him and patted his massive arm.
“Simon, I thought we discussed having all of the deputies out here for this town meeting. I’m not seeing nearly as many of your men as I expected. I thought I made it clear-” the mayor started.
“I’ve got everyone I can spare, Kenny. Like I told you earlier, we’re not having the easiest time over at the prison, and we need all hands on deck there.”
“You need me to come and talk to the men, Simon?” Bill asked.
Simon shrugged. “I don’t know if it would do much at this point, Pastor, but every little bit helps, I suppose.”
“I’ll come by first thing in the morning,” Bill said.
“I appreciate that,” Simon said. “Not many people offering to come to the prison and help out. Then to make it worse, I’ve got more guards missing every day.”
“Are they alright?” Dotty asked.
“As far as we can tell, they’re fine—looks like they’re packing up their families and leaving. Can’t blame ‘em, really. This doesn’t look like it’s going to be solved anytime soon, and we’re not getting any answers from anyone.” He gave a meaningful look to Mayor Wilhelm.
“Hopefully Cindy was able to find the local rep from Dominion Power to come down here and talk to us,” Mayor Wilhelm said. “So we can hear it right from the horse’s mouth.”
“I don’t need to talk to her to know that the problems I’m having at the prison go further than the power, Kenny,” Sheriff Kane said. “We ran out of meds this morning. We get a delivery every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and no one’s seen that delivery truck since the day this all went down. Do I need to remind you of how many inmates we’ve got who are only marginally stable because of their meds?”
“That’s not something I can solve for you, Simon. My job is to-”
“Bullshit it’s not something you can solve. This is a prison that I used to run, so I know how it works. You can damn sure use your office to get in touch with the state government and demand that they get that shipment sent out. While you’re at it, tell them their wardens took off and they need to send more.”
“I’ve got enough trouble staying in touch with the State Police,” Wilhelm said. “I can’t get a hold of anyone up in Annapolis because the phones and the radios are all useless. Have you tried sending a truck up to the dispensary or wherever it is that the drugs come from?”
Simon snorted. “First off, I can’t spare the manpower and fuel for that. Second, that truck comes from two states away. Third, those drugs come on an armored truck. I doubt they’d just let me pull up in my cruiser and drive off with enough meds to keep a few hundred psychos happy for a week. I need your intervention in this, Kenny, or we’re gonna have a real problem on our hands. That’s not even going into our food and toilet situation.”
“The church still has some food in the pantry,” Bill started, but Simon held up his hand.
“You save that for people who deserve it, Pastor,” he said. “Besides, this isn’t your jurisdiction. I never had to utilize it when I was Warden, but the government is supposed to follow a contingency plan for things exactly like this.”
“Feeding starving people is well within my jurisdiction, Simon, and if I don’t show mercy to the lowest among us, how could I say that I’m a man of Jesus?”
Simon sighed and shook his head. “Pastor, there are inmates in that prison that have killed people. Raped both men and women. There’s child molesters and every type of evil you can think of. You know this. I never let the worst of the worst come to your Bible studies or the gardening group, but some of the ones you’ve counseled individually are bad enough. You think they deserve a mouthful of food before some innocent kid here in town? Absolutely not.”
“Everyone deserves a second chance,” Bill said, but the Sheriff just shook his head. Dotty took Bill’s hand and squeezed. She knew he’d keep trying; it was just his nature.
A professional, but harried-looking woman hurried up to the side of the stage, coaxing another woman with her. The first was Cindy Stalls, the lieutenant mayor. Dotty didn’t recognize the second. Behind them, another large man in a Sheriff’s uniform kept pace, watching the crowd warily. He was Cindy’s husband, Undersheriff Frank Stalls.
Cindy gestured to the woman with her. “Gentlemen, this is Sharon Stapleton, District Manager for Dominion Power. She’s in charge of the entire Eastern Shore, including Delaware and the Virginia peninsula. Sharon, this is Sheriff Simon Kane, and Mayor Kenny Wilhelm.”
“Thank you for coming, Ma’am,” Simon said, then held up a hand as Ms. Stapleton started to speak. “Just a moment, please.” He looked to Frank. “Any problems?”
Frank chuffed and gave a wry smile. “We caught her trying to sneak out of the back of Dominion with a hand truck full of toilet paper and snack foods,” he said. “Guess she didn’t want to talk to the officers knocking at the front door.”
“Officers?” Sheriff Kane asked, stressing the plural. Frank nodded.
“We weren’t the only ones looking for answers,” Frank said. “There were boys from three other counties there. One told Tom they’ve had a man stationed at the front door for over 48 hours waiting for someone to show up. Turns out, Ms. Stapleton here has been sneaking up the back drive the trash truck uses, and slipping in and out right under their noses. Judging from what was in her car, she’s been relieving Dominion’s headquarters of everything useful. Soda and snacks for the machines in the break room, cleaning supplies, cases of water bottles, even had all kinds of bandages and meds from their nurse’s room-”
“This is kidnapping,” Ms. Stapleton barked
at Simon. “You ordered this Deputy to kidnap me? When Dominion’s lawyers get finished with you, your entire department will be disbanded. And you-“ she turned on Mayor Wilhelm-“I told your Lieutenant here on Saturday that I’d get in touch with you when I had some information. You’re all going to jail for a long, long time. Kidnapping is a felony!”
Frank jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. “The guys from the other counties will be up here soon. I had Tom show them where to park over at the courthouse. They want to hear this, too. I expect they’ll want to coordinate with you afterwards, Simon.”
“That’s good,” Simon said. “We’ve still been getting nothing but static on the station radio. Maybe we should set up some kind of courier system until this-“ he waved his hand at the setting sun-“interference is over.”
“Did you even hear me?” Ms. Stapleton demanded, stepping up to Sheriff Kane and jabbing a finger into his chest. “I’m charging your entire department with felony kidnapping!”
“That’s nice, ma’am,” Simon said. “I’m sure Dominion’s lawyers will be eager to help you after we give them a detailed list of all the stolen company supplies in your car. They’ll probably want us to write up a warrant and search your home, too. Wonder what we’ll find there?”
“Everyone calm down,” Cindy said. “Sharon, you know you’re in no danger. That’s why I came along with Frank. We just need some information, and then I’ll be happy to take you back to Dom’s headquarters. It’s none of our business what’s in your car. Right, Simon?”
Simon crossed his arms and looked over Sharon’s head at Frank. “Did the boys from the other counties get a look at what was in her car?”
“Oh yeah,” Frank said. “We called them around back so they could all see. Took pictures, even. Judging from the tracks in the dirt and the dust on her car, she’s been making a lot of trips up and down that back road.”