by A. R. Shaw
“I think I need to eat something before I do,” she said.
“That’s probably a good idea. Macy, see if you can find her some crackers or something to eat. In fact, you and Bang take carts and load up as much edible food items as you can find. I need to find a truck we can use to load this stuff up. We’ll go to your dad’s apartment first and then make plans from there. I don’t want to stay here tonight and I’m sure you guys don’t want to either,” he said, to which they all agreed.
“Graham,” Macy said. “I, uh, need a bathroom.”
He turned in her direction. She tugged one of those oversize sweatshirts on. It fell nearly to her knees. “Please hurry and don’t go far.”
He needed a bathroom too. He picked up his own jacket lying on the table and put it on. “You guys stay right here. I’ll be right back,” he said, realizing they depended on him now.
“Sheriff, you stay here and watch these guys,” he said.
The dog looked up at him as if he knew exactly what he meant.
23 Scouting Around
Graham stepped out into the dampness of the empty parking lot. It was at least past noon by then and with the smoke rising out of the blue garbage bin, he did not have much of an appetite even though he’d not eaten since the day before.
Graham stood still, one hand on his rifle, scanning the horizon for usable vehicles. He headed out across the street where several residences lined the streets in front of the apartment complexes beyond. Graham saw a few cars in driveways and along the street, but he saw no trucks. He knew he’d need something with four-wheel drive where he was going. To the right, he noticed a reddish Toyota SUV but of course, he had no idea if the keys were in there.
He set off in that direction when he heard a rustling. Farther down the road, he noticed three deer pulling at the green lawn of a yard. It was yet another reminder of encroaching wildlife and the need to get somewhere safe from their predators. Camping out in a festering grocery store held no appeal for him, knowing the smells would bring in more than just the deer after tender grass.
He approached the truck and tried the door with no luck, then took in a deep breath. He knew he’d have to go inside the home to see if he could find the keys.
With a peaked roof and matching doorway, the little white house was edged in green. “It must have been built in the forties or fifties,” he said under his breath. These little post war houses were put up quickly to accommodate the troops coming home after the Second World War.
Whoever lived here took pretty good care of the place. Even the concrete walkway had recently been power washed. He did not bother knocking but simply tried the door and found it unlocked.
The darkness of the interior, even in the afternoon light on a rainy day, seemed daunting. He opened the door farther, but slowly, as if someone might come to meet him, which was not likely. The only smells he encountered were mild, musty and moldy but not of death or decay. It was just like some grandmother’s closet or basement filled with mothballed coats.
He had looked first by the door before he stepped in, hoping there would be a set of keys on a nearby table or on the wall by the door. He looked around the small living room as the light shone in and revealed a brown moleskin sofa facing the blackened screen of a TV no longer needed. The back of the sofa created a hallway that extended beyond to what Graham knew must be the kitchen.
He stepped onto the chestnut, parquet flooring, the real stuff not the fake kind. “Must be the original,” Graham said absentmindedly.
Still with his hand on the door, he said, “Anybody home?” When no one answered, Graham left the door open, looking back across the street where he suddenly felt tethered to the kids. It was as if they were his own or at least like he needed them to feel like his own. Who else’s would they be? he thought. The feeling lingered out and he released his hand on the doorknob, leaving it open to walk through the strange home and into the kitchen. He hoped the kitchen would be the next likely place someone would leave their keys, possibly on the counter or on a hook by the garage door.
He peered around the well-lit kitchen which was clean and tidy right down to a candle placed in the center of a small island. This was a redone kitchen for sure, he thought. There was no way this cabinetry was original. They’d been redone with raised panel oak and the countertops themselves were a light peach laminate, obviously not up to date but definitely not harking back from the forties either. The place was oddly neat as a pin. Had someone been home when they died, their stuff, in the haste of disorderly living, would be everywhere. He looked around the countertops and a small oak square kitchen table beyond, with no luck, for keys.
“Maybe the bedroom,” he said to himself and looked to the short hallway he’d already passed that must lead there. He held his jacket up to his nose and mouth. He expected the worst as he turned the doorknob. He opened it an inch, then two, but what he saw was a neatly made chenille covered bed, instead of the expected vision.
“Nobody’s home,” he said to no one in particular. Just behind him was the door leading to the garage. Possibly the last hiding place for the keys to be.
He opened the unlocked metal door, thinking it was surely a replacement and not the original to the old house. He then peered inside the darkness of the one-car garage, reached for the likely light switch, and flipped it up. By accident, in the process of his search, he dislodged what sounded like keys, sending them jangling to the floor.
As his eyes adjusted to the new light, Graham was surprised to see an older but well maintained gold and white International Harvester Scout. It was probably a seventy-five, he supposed. It had two rows of seats and a decent cargo area in the back for supplies. He could probably load the bikes up on the top, tying them off to the rack. He located the keys he’d dropped and examined them. The ring only contained the keys for the Scout but not the Toyota out front. He hoped this thing was a four by four. Graham hit the garage door opener and heard the familiar racket associated with such a thing.
He walked over to the driver’s side and opened the locked door. He inspected it for the necessary conversion to switch over to rough terrain, which to his surprise it had. He started the vehicle up and laid his rifle in the passenger’s seat area. It smelled clean and there was no litter lying around. He was happy to see it registered a full tank of fuel.
The thought dawned on him that this must have been Campos’s doing. He must have gone house to house, getting them ready for the new residents he expected. He truly wished he hadn’t had to kill the man. Part of him would always feel guilty for it; because the truth was part of him had been good, the part of him that wanted to make this town clean again and the part that had cared for Marcy. He knew that part of him, too, because he’d seen it just before he died in the look he gave Marcy. He just couldn’t be allowed to remain and endanger those with the other parts of him. Graham knew all lives were especially precious in this new world and that made his guilt even more so. He laid his forehead onto the steering wheel for a minute while he let the engine run and idle down.
~ ~ ~
It was only late afternoon but already Graham felt spent. It’s time to get the kids out of here, he thought before backing out of the skinny driveway and onto the main road. He left the vehicle running and parked right outside the market to warm up the inside. The kids already had two carts full of boxed food ready to load. Graham walked over to Marcy. “How are you feeling?” he asked her.
“I’m fine,” she said, “but my head really hurts.”
A little concerned, Graham looked her over again but didn’t see anything unexpected, considering her injuries.
“Let’s put some ice on your head to keep the swelling down. You just took the pain killers, too, right?” he asked her.
“Yeah, I took two just like it said on the bottle,” Marcy said.
“How old are you girls?” he asked.
“We’re fifteen, but I’m older than Macy by five minutes,” she said.
He s
miled at the girls, amused that she had said something normal in this abnormal world. “Well, you keep taking them every six hours then,” he said.
“All right, let’s get you in the backseat and warmed up. Then we’ll load up the rest of this stuff,” he said.
Graham lifted the girl, making sure he didn’t disturb her wound, and carried her out into the misty cold. He opened the door to the back seat and slid her in onto the warmth of the vinyl seating.
“You couldn’t find anything newer?” she asked.
“No, we were actually lucky to find this one,” he said.
“At least it’s warm,” she conceded.
He shut the door gently and then looked over at the dog, who watched his every move. He moved over to the back, opened the top window and then lowered the tailgate.
“Come,” Graham said to Sheriff. He just looked up at him, not knowing what he wanted. Then Graham said, “Hmmm, what’s your language, big guy?”
Macy pushed one of the carts through the door, coming around to the back of the vehicle. “Do you know what kind of commands to use for him?” he asked her.
“I have no idea. He just jumped into the backseat of the last car we were in. I haven’t tried to tell him anything.”
“Well, let’s try this then,” he said as he patted the back of the tailgate of the truck. Sheriff did a running turn and jumped right up into the back of the truck. “Good boy,” Graham said and scratched the dog behind the ears. “Bet you’re getting hungry too,” he said.
“Bang found some dog food,” Macy said. “They’re fast friends, those two,” she added, while handing Graham the food supplies from the cart.
Graham loaded quickly and tossed this and that lightly into the back. Sheriff walked up to Marcy and sniffed at her head rising over the headrest. She reached up and patted the dog. He sat down on his haunches and let her continue the affection.
“Wish I had listened to you, boy,” she said lightly.
“Don’t do that to yourself, Marcy,” Graham said, overhearing the girl. “Don’t regret, it does you no good, believe me,” he said, speaking loud enough for all of them to hear him.
“Look, we all have to be more careful now. There are wild animals everywhere and a few people who are willing to hurt you, for whatever reason. These are the new rules now. No one goes anywhere without telling me and you must always have someone with you at all times. I’ll carry my weapon with me wherever we go and you three need to learn to do the same. A ruler and an ice scraper aren’t bad, but they’re not good enough to defend yourself with.”
The girls looked at one another.
“I know we haven’t really talked about this, but it’s your choice. You two should decide together. After we load up, we’ll go get the bikes that Bang and I hid last night, then go over to your dad’s place. Girls, I’m pretty sure you know he’s not with the living, but we’ll go there and make sure at least. Then it’s up to you two if you want to come with Bang and me up to my cabin in Cascade.
“It’s safer there. I know the hunting and fishing grounds and not that many people know about it. Those fires over there,” he pointed towards Seattle, “are inching their way over here and I don’t want to be anywhere close to them when they do.
“Besides that, this place welcomes people and you don’t know what kind you’re dealing with. I’m not saying it’s bad to stay here, just that I’m not. It’s up to you to come with me or stay by yourselves. There are a lot of houses that are livable if you want to.”
The girls looked at one another again and Macy spoke first. “We’re going with you, at least I am. I don’t want to stay here. Do you, Marcy?” she asked.
“No way, not after this,” Marcy said and gestured openly with her hand. “I can still feel him here,” she said, with goose bumps rising and shuddering from a chill.
“All right then, I just wanted to make sure you realized it was your decision,” Graham finished, and continued loading what little food they’d managed to find. It wasn’t a lot but might get them through a couple of weeks.
Graham walked back to the market, and scanned the inside, retrieving the red ice chest he’d packed earlier, and looked around for anything he thought they should also grab. He noticed a few fire starter logs and took what was there, including several lighters on display and a snow shovel leaning near the entrance door. He brought those out with Bang’s help and locked up the back end of the truck while Macy climbed in the back seat with Marcy and Bang sliding into the passenger side. Before Graham got in, he noticed the sickly sweet burning smell again, coming from the damp, smoking blue trash bin, and his stomach clenched. “Sorry, Campos,” he said under his breath for his ears only. He meant it, but he didn’t regret what happened.
Graham got into the running vehicle and headed over to where he’d stashed their bikes the night before. For Graham, it was returning to where Campos had struck Marcy the first time and more importantly, where he’d failed. Hopefully, the lesson he’d learned would stick with him.
Shutting off the truck, Graham said, “All right, Bang, let’s go get the bikes and stuff. Girls, this shouldn’t take long,” he added, and they shut the doors to keep in the warmth. Graham looked around to make sure there were not any predators out and about. He could not be too careful these days.
They walked between the cars and over to the brush where they’d hidden their bikes and trailer, only to find that something curious had tried to get into the tote of food. The shower curtain was ripped to shreds and scattered about. Luckily, the rifles were only tipped over onto the ground but unharmed.
The first aid kit was smashed and scattered all over the ground and though the tote itself was intact and unmolested, the hitch connecting the trailer to the bike was bent beyond repair. “Something was determined to get in there,” Graham said.
They unhitched the trailer and left it where it was. Graham picked up the gun cases and the big tote and balanced them on the seat of his bike. Meanwhile, Bang retrieved his and then they both made their way back to the truck, winding through the scattered maze of cars. Graham took a second to look down the highway and noticed several dogs milling about beneath them. One looked up at him. “Hurry up, Bang,” he warned. “If they come up here, just drop the bike and run for the truck,” he said.
They both picked up their pace as one of the dogs lifted his head at their scent and barked, alerting the rest of the pack. Graham heard growling and turned around just in time to see the boy let a little arrow fly into a coyote’s side as it snuck up behind them. The coyote let out a yelp and took off in the opposite direction
“Okay, that’s enough for me, leave the bike,” Graham said, and awkwardly grabbed the tote with the guns balanced on top in his right arm and reached down and pulled Bang up in the other. He ran the rest of the distance to the truck, with more of the pack in pursuit behind them.
Graham opened the passenger side, pushed Bang in roughly, and then stuffed his load in right behind him. He then jumped in himself and quickly closed the door behind them.
They looked out the windows and saw a large coyote come to the rise, followed by a Rottweiler barking insanely. Sheriff growled in their direction with his hair standing on end.
Somehow, the domestic version had gone so far as to join with the wild packs already. The girls were shouting and crying by this time and Graham turned around to them, putting his hand up and down, trying to calm them.
“It’s all right, we made it back,” and then, “Whew, that was too close,” while he traversed the tote and helped Bang back into the passenger side. “You’re pretty good with that thing, buddy,” he said to Bang.
“Those are bad dogs," Bang said and pointed at them. “They’re coming over here,” he cautioned.
The girls’ cries started to increase as they remembered their drive the day before and panicked. Graham started the engine and circled around, even though the dogs were many now and they were jumping and snarling at them.
He sped d
own the main street and turned left over to the apartment complex beyond. The dogs gave up the chase before long. “Okay, girls, can you give me some directions here? Which building is it?” he asked them.
Marcy pointed to the gray building with the white trim and looked up through the back window at the second floor pointing north. “That’s it, number B204,” she said.
The building itself was fairly new within the last two years or so. You could tell because behind this building there were several more standing, still under stalled construction.
Graham stopped the vehicle and let it idle right in front of the breezeway that led to the stairs of the building. He looked out the back truck windows and didn’t see any of the vicious canine brigades coming into view. He turned off the engine and then turned back to the girls. “I think I should go up there first. Do you have a key?” he asked the girls.
Macy pulled up a lanyard around her neck, hidden within her shirt. She took it off and handed it over. “It’s the first door on the left there,” Macy said, pointing to the second floor.
“Don’t forget the rifle. It’s in his closet,” Marcy said, paused, then added, “His name is Brian.”
He nodded to them, not sure what else to say and looked into both their eyes, alternately. He took the lanyard and said, “Keep the doors closed and if there are any issues, honk the horn. I’ll just be a minute.”
All three nodded in unison and he looked at Sheriff and said, “You’re in charge, Sheriff,” who panted at the attention with smiling eyes. He saw Bang grin back at the dog, then switch his gaze to the girls’ faces. The kid sobered quickly. After one quick survey, Graham stepped out and silently closed the door, taking his rifle with him.
He ran in front of the truck and up the path leading to the concrete steps.
When he approached the rise, he noticed debris scattered around the concrete breezeway. What looked to be cheese crackers and cereal were strewn all over.