by Ron Foster
6
NIGHT RIDERS
“Ok, here is the plan; I am going to bike it over to Sherry’s and dig up the asparagus and get the stuff loaded on the tractor. I have enough help loading over there, so Jack you can have the fun of draining some motor oil out of mom’s car and putting it in something.” I said getting ready to head out from my mom’s.
Jack paused a moment before he replied, “I will pull the vehicles around front about dusk and get Rufus to help me guard them and help load when you get here.
“Not that I have any problem with Rufus, but put all those long guns in the hallway closet where they will be handy to the front door, but out of sight. Just carry that short Mossberg Persuader and Lois can pretend like she knows how to use the Mossberg 500. Might as well put all the ammo in there too, except that bag of 12 gauge shells I told Rufus he could have for helping.” I told Jack mentally ticking off any other last minute details I could think of.
“Oh, I been showing Lois how to use the mossie; she can shoot it if necessary.” He said like it was a master accomplishment.
“Just be sure the damned thing is on safe.” I said not taking any encouragement from his revelation.
“I am going to try and load that lawnmower and your trailer on the back of the big trailer, until we get to the storage building; so whatever you are thinking of hauling in that little trailer, put it off to the side until we can figure it out.” I said, before Lois chimed in with “He is not loading me in, this time.” she said with a smile and a nudge that neither one of us were allowed to make any remarks.
“I think we can find better accommodations this time.” I said laughing back picking up a mostly empty rucksack.
“You wait until the last 10 minutes or so, if you can, to fire up those vehicles. I don’t trust some of those neighbors on that street in back of us not to take more interest than they should about running vehicles.” I told Jack meaning for him to be vigilant.
“I am keeping my eye on them.” Jack said looking across a couple backyards to the driveway in front of a house, where it always seemed to have 3 or 4 people hanging out together.
“I will give them a buckshot enema, if they decide to get too curious.” he said holding up the tricked out 12 gauge Persuader with a forward grip handle and a side saddle filled with 3 inch no 4 buck containing 41 pellets of 25 caliber balls.
“Hell, look the part and put on that bandolier of double ought.” I said thinking the visual deterrent might buy some time, if it looked like someone was checking the place out.
“I was going to anyway.” He replied looking smug.
“I will check in by radio, when I get to Sherry’s place in about 20 minutes.” I said pushing the bike out of the house and Mom and crew saying the normal farewells.
It’s kind of early for the gaggle of groups I saw just hanging around the front of their houses and occasionally posturing to be out, I thought.
Maybe it’s the heat or having nothing to do with no power, but they usually didn’t start congregating and doing the homie hangout thing until later in the afternoon. Hopefully, they won’t get too bored with doing nothing or plotting their night time antics, until I get the hell out of here, I mused.
I see a huge plume of smoke in the sky as I start heading up the street from Sherry. It doesn’t look like it’s too close to her, but close enough. By the size of it and as black as the smoke is, I would bet it’s a house burning to the ground. I see the local neighborhood homeless characters are busy this morning, as I observed the already looted Amoco station where you used to see one occasionally hanging out; now had all of them together standing in front of the place and drinking whatever. Hell, they are trying to claim it as their own personal turf, now that there is no one to run them off or object.
Fine, more power to you, just don’t be drunk in the road when I come by this evening, or you might get clipped by a tractor, because I am going to throttle up on the gas and play ‘full steam ahead damn the torpedoes,’ which means I will not be slowing for any chump that is not handling his own business in regard to personal safety.
Nobody on the front porch at Sherry’s, I sort of figured I would have a welcome. They knew I was coming. Oh well, I bet they are in back doing something.
I knocked on the door and Betsy answered, “Hi, David.” and then began looking up both sides of the street.
“What?” I questioned.
“Damn crazy ass people wandering around trying to bum food; we can’t even sit out front anymore.” she said allowing me in and switching back to normal conversation, but still looking perturbed.
“Sherry and Sandra are out back giving you a head start on digging up asparagus. I am sort of guarding the house, waiting for you and separating out what needs to be loaded last. David, they got both front door loads and backdoor loads stacked up, makes no sense, but I got out voted.” She fumed, thinking that she had more experience organizing clutter than anybody else because she had made it a sideline business in the past to help homeowners.
“I am thinking one door or the other would have been best, too; but I don’t know the method to their madness yet.” Nothing good could come from that, as somebody was not going to like me putting an opinion for or against anything the “group” had decided mutually. Ok wait, just wait. Here it comes. She began to try to get me to help her rearrange, before I even got settled in.
“I am glad you agree, come here and help me with this heavy box that needs to be up by the front door.” She directed me before I could even make another step past her.
“I will get to it; let me get that bike off the porch and go say hello first.” I said, successfully reducing her momentum for me to start taking sides, in what must have been a pretty good squabble and one had I luckily managed to avoid by not being here.
“Well, come look at it anyway. Sherry said it was mostly your crap anyway.” and huffed off towards the mystery box, knowing she had my attention now, because my stuff usually was towards the front door and not the back, so I could not figure out why it had to be moved from its prior position and giving me some of the same angst she was feeling.
I bent over to look in the box and realized it was the majority of my trapping supplies, as well as a half dozen of Sherry’s 110 conibear traps I had insisted she have and had bought for her.
“Sherry said that box of scrap iron and steel cables over there was special and you would want it all together and that it would be the first thing you asked about.” Betsy said looking at me like, now it had to be my fault it got moved. I was about to respond, when Sherry opened the door from the backyard and garden area and said “See, I told you he would ask about that stuff first.” Looking very full of herself and trading cat glances with Betsy.
“I just got here.” I began, before Sherry went off on a tangent explaining to Betsy that those cables were snares and specially seasoned and cleaned with baking Soda and did she remember not to touch them too much and maybe I wanted those conibears to make some kind of weird fantasy trap protection on the tractor ...and and…” until I said I was moving them to the front door and ended the bickering.
“Betsy, go help Sherry roll up that floor rug in the living room, put the coffee table in front of the book shelves on the trailer, take the ponchos off the side of the trailer and put them with you all’s 72 hour kits. I am going to use that rug to cover the tractor instead of the sheets and I am going out to help Sandra with the asparagus.” I said and was on my way, before my judgment call was questioned to death. As I opened the back door, I heard what I knew was about to start. “See I told you.” Sherry said.
“Well, he moved them up front didn’t he?” Betsy whipped back, as I found my way to where Sandra was, while closing the door and shutting out the snarls and hissing in back of me.
“Hey, Sandra, Hot work, thanks.” I said while ignoring the shovels and moving dirt away by hand to harvest the 3-6yr old roots.
“Hey David, what are they fussing about?” Sandra said,
while looking like she was debating whose tag team partner she would be on, if she could escape helping me and go play with the ladies auxiliary probably getting nothing done until one has had her way in influencing the others.
“Usual shit, go play referee, if you have a mind to; I have officially escaped and am without opinions.” I said renewing my efforts to get a particularly big purple asparagus root out without damaging it.
“I think I will hide out here with you for a bit.” Sandra said, but not really meaning it and wanting to join the fray inside.
“Give them a minute and then go check on them.” I offered while getting into the rhythm of how easy the task was since I had taken off the sides of the boxes.
“Where the hell is the shotgun at?” I said to Sandra and stretching my back after leaning over working hard for about 15 minutes.
“It’s, ah, over there.” looking around and indicating it laying on it’s side next to a snoozing cat and a raised bed box about three down from us.
“I am going to have to start playing Drill Sergeant with you all about losing your weapons.” I said good-naturedly, but knowing I was going to piss her off.
“YOU’RE RIGHT! But we are NOT in the Army, David; and quit acting like we are expected to play security like a Viet Cong is always going to be sneaking up on us in the next 5 seconds.” she said and controlling her anger, went to go play with the pissing contest that was probably going on inside.
Ah, mission accomplished I thought, by helping to direct her to supervising the fellow members of our tribe and meanwhile giving me a chance to lose my supervisor of I am pulling the roots out too hard. Hell, I bought these 500 roots, I will do what I damn well please. I mused sweating my ass off and thinking about how I was going to have some fun advising when replanting them came around.
You thinking petty shit, David, get with the program and do not get sucked into what does not matter now. In a few hours, you got to play wagon master and protect these folks. Could I? I said to myself while putting any further thoughts out of my mind.
“You ready for me to carry that rug out?” I asked upon reentering the cat girl domain, which was now the trio against me and they were plotting and scheming my demise in what I had to play pack mule with.
“You are going to have to pull that tractor up to the front door after we get done with the backdoor loading David.” Betsy proceeded to tell me, before I went ape shit and told everyone to hang on for a second.
“The tractor is a bitch to start, and I don’t want it running and loudly advertising the fact we have one, as we do this for an hour or so, while we shuffle back and forth loading.” I glared at them while Sherry came to console me.
“Load order is: Weapons first and accessible, ammo next, then water, then food, finally clothes and other equipment.” I said putting my foot down, as to what was a normal load out situation, but spoiling the plans the hen party had for me.
“After the weapons, my Traps go out. Any objections?” I stated, as I leaned over and grabbed the huge box of what felt like lead to take it out first; regardless of what I’d said earlier of the plan, while my old ass arms showed strength that no one had thought of until now, as the muscles bulged in response to repetitive tasks they were used to.
“This ‘Junk’ as you call it is food; food for the rest of our lives and you WILL learn to use it!” I said storming out the door and proceeding to load onto the trailer the first box of what I considered our great equalizer to the hardships ahead.
Sherry walked up in back of me, as I set down my load that I felt was light and inadequate for the mission ahead.
‘David, you got those three HavaHart style live traps, in the Shed.” She said proffering the key to the lock.
“I am sorry, I forgot all about them, thank you Sweetie. I guess it’s ‘too much too soon’ for all of us. If something happens to me, I worry about you all, is the thing.” I said hugging her closely.
“I remember a lot of what you said and we’re going to be ok.” Sherry replied giving me a pat and breaking the embrace.
“We got to load up quick; we burning daylight, let’s just get it and go. And…I cannot ask what is in every box.” I said questionably and frowning…
“There is a plan, from back to front of the trailer, it loads backdoor first and as you are often heard to say, ‘Lets Get Her Done.’” She said turning as the rest of the crew already anticipated what was up and came out the back gate carrying supplies.
“Let’s load under the benches first, if it makes sense.” I said watching Sherry climbing on the trailer to grab boxes and feeling like a third wheel.
“Go grab the ammo cans David; they are in the computer room next to your bedroll and extra 72 hour kit.” Sherry said waiting to be blessed for that final consideration of looking out for her prepper buddy.
It took about 2 hours to load the trailer. I had to change the girl’s load thoughts, because I wanted to put that lawn mower on the trailer, if I could, because it was slower than the tractor; but all in all it turned out to be pretty efficient.
“Go give Helga her stuff,” Sherry said looking at the emptied spaces where preps had been stacked and brushing away a stray tear. Betsy had a steak knife in her hand and said she and Sandra were going to secure the rug over the trailer for a canopy before I objected seeing the course they were going to take.
‘If that rug were not so heavy, I would suggest tying rocks in the corners or grabbing fabric around them. Instead, just poke a hole and run the para cord through and tie them on stakes on the outside. It will work better than just running the line through a hole that would just get bigger.” I offered, already tired from the exertions to get us this far.
“I got you,” Sandra said to Betsy, “Just tie the line in the middle of those tent stakes looking things, so it’s got more surface area to wear against.” and looking quite satisfied as if she had thought of it all by herself.
I carried over a few cases of preps for Helga, who produced a cobalt blue bottle of wine to my amazement and said, “Thanks, let’s go have a toast.’ And she took off for Sherry’s porch, before I could do much else, except to put the small amount down in her kitchen as our thanks for looking after Sherry’s house.
Wine is not my forte, and those that imbibe thinking it’s cool to drink nasty tasting shit without catching a buzz, is beyond my understanding. If I am being good, I’d just soon not even take a glass, if it’s an oat meal beats no meal proposition to get a bit tipsy and thoughts of what vintage it is considered BS, well then you got a partner that will help you drain a bottle.
I did not see me being in luck today, however; and refrained from accepting a glass rather than wonder why I would drink such wretched vinegar, just for the sake of being polite. The ladies could have it and bless them for being more civil than me. Hmmm. I see a neighbor that is known to me slightly and I motion that I want to talk.
“David, a bottle of Vodka for a silver eagle, that’s the deal right? I never even have seen a real one of these. “My scrupulous neighbor of my friend from across the street said.
“Or 25 bucks cash green backs. You decide. Hell $30 cash or take the silver and throw in those 3 Jack Daniels miniatures you got off some airline flight. Final offer.” I said getting thirsty for some firewater.
“Silver and five greenbacks.” Came his counter-offer.
“You got any mix? I might could do you better.” I said making the dollar coin flash at him.
“I got a full liter of Mountain Dew.” of which hearing it from my fellow negotiator, I made an appropriate face.
“Okay, 6 bucks, plus the silver for the whole shooting match, is it a deal?” I asked pushing back the proffered goods.
“Deal, David.” he said and I took my bounty back to the wine drinking porch ladies.
“Anyone want some of this?” I asked holding up my small wealth to disapproving, but congenial looks.
“I want one.” Betsy said coming to assist me and almost sticking her tongu
e out at the rest of the wine sipping Ladies society.
“Good Deal. Train leaves in an hour folks.” and closed the door on the objecting and unrealizing biddy’s that disapproved of my actions.
“Betsy you said you can drive that Moped.” I said while mixing our drinks.
“Oh Hell, yes. I was telling Sandra I still got this little scar over here from playing with one on vacation.” She began, before I shortened the conversation and advised her she would be driving that one out tonight.
“Go get that thing cranked for practice, but don’t be calling attention by showing off.” I said passing her a drink.
“Do I consider it mine, David?” she said apprehensively and a bit eagerly.
“For now it’s yours; you can lay claim to it.” I said bumping her glass with mine and looking around the area for any missed boxes that needed loading, before sucking down some extra strong brewed-down-potato juice poured by my own hand.
“Sherry loves you, David; you two just have an odd sort of relationship.” she started to say.
“I know. It’s the way we are. Go try that bike.” I said while looking for the way to attack the problem at hand of getting this caravan headed on out and down the road.
Betsy sucked the bottom out of her glass before trying the scooter and watching me being in an uncharacteristically worried mode.
“Jack is there to help you, David. You think the roads going to be ok? No check points, or problems?” Betsy voiced unsure of why I was so deep in thought.
“You go pick two rally points, for if something goes wrong on the way up there or back. Make it quick though and send Sherry my way to compare notes with, after you try out that scooter.” and I was done thinking about what was one of many final releases tonight.
7
ROLLING! ROLLING! ROLL ON!
“Ready, set!” I hollered out to my motley crew. Sherry and Sandra were on the back of the trailer and looking like something from the movie Apocalypse Now. I don’t know what is up with the dark eye shadow, but I am not going there.