Lester didn’t say a word. As soon as Ricky made it back to the camper, he knew he was done for. Lester’s fist connected with his jaw, making a meaty smack. He got in a second punch before Ricky hit the ground. Then he grabbed him up by the front of his shirt so he could get in a third.
“Get’em, Daddy! Get’em!” Junior didn’t really have anything in particular against Ricky, but during a fight, it seemed prudent to cheer for one side or the other. Lester had at least a hundred pounds on Ricky, so he seemed like the obvious choice if anyone felt like taking bets.
Lester reeled back his fist again, while Ricky craned away from him, holding his skinny arms up over his head. His mouth was full of blood, but Junior was pretty sure he wouldn’t have had anything redeeming to say even if he could talk.
“Daddy, don’t! Yer gonna kill him!” Sissy shrieked, slapping at his arm as he brought another fist down on Ricky’s face.
Gunfire cracked behind them, and Lester finally stopped to look up. Dan stood ten yards away with his AR laid over his shoulder. He’d been extra quiet since they’d arrived, but he hadn’t caused any trouble yet.
“If you’re planning on killing the boy, I suggest you use a gun. That nurse is already going to have a hell of a time patching up your knuckles. If you beat on him much more, she’s not gonna be able to fix him anyway.”
Lester blinked stiffly and let go of Ricky’s shirt, pushing him away with a grunt. Sissy dropped down to her knees and tried to dab at his face with her shirt, but Ricky still ended up swallowing what seemed to be a gallon of blood.
Lilly sighed. “I really wasn’t expectin’ to be made a granny this early.”
Ricky choked on his own blood as his eyes bugged out at Sissy. Her eyes bugged right back at him, like she hadn’t known she was knocked up before that moment either.
Junior wondered if he’d ever make a girl puke and have a baby. It seemed unlikely out in the middle of nowhere, but maybe he’d meet a nice Martian girl if the mother ship ever found them.
“Looks like we’re havin’ a weddin’.” Lester narrowed his gaze on Ricky who began bobbing his head up and down.
“Yes sir,” he said around his busted lips. “I’ll do right by ’er.”
Junior had never been to a wedding, but he’d seen a few on TV, mostly during his ma’s soap operas. They looked boring, and everyone had to wear church clothes, even if the wedding was outside. Fortunately, all of Junior’s church clothes were floating around in the Lake of the Ozarks.
Sissy and Ricky’s wedding was as close to traditional as it was going to get out in the wilderness. Granny made Sissy a grass skirt and a crown of daisies to wear in her hair. She made Ricky a matching grass vest.
They all decided that Dan should officiate, since he spoke the nicest. If Junior closed his eyes, he could almost imagine he was at a real wedding, like the kind on TV. Dan even knew how most of the words went. He must have liked soap operas too.
Junior wondered what it was going to be like to be an uncle. He wondered if Sissy would have a boy or a girl, and what they were going to name it. Maybe he could make it a little foil hat and it could join his club.
Granny gave a speech after the ceremony, since she was the only one who had anything nice to say about the situation. When she was done, they all toasted with moonshine. Junior and Parker snuck a sip behind the camper, and they both thought they’d set their innards on fire. The hacked and coughed until their throats were raw and Ernie started humping their legs.
For the wedding feast, Dan and Lester had hunted down a fat whitetail buck. There was steak and heaps of wild onions, and Lester had even tried to make some jerky. It wasn’t the same as the kind from the store, but it was keepable, Junior decided. Ernie thought so too. He even gave Parker a piece while they listened to the scanner that night.
Epilogue
It had been a long while since Lester had really thought about the future. Of course, it had been a long while since he’d had a spare second to think about anything except keeping his family alive and well.
Now that they were settled and Mother Nature had decided to back off, he took a moment to wonder about things to come. Tucked away in the Black Fork Mountain Wilderness meant that he didn’t have to work at the pawn shop anymore, not that he could if he’d wanted to. Bub was dead, and the shop was submerged, for all he knew.
Lilly didn’t seem to mind cooking the things he killed as much these days. Callie was even helping her find different herbs to season away the gamey taste she didn’t care for. Junior and Parker were learning all about engines from Ricky, and Granny was getting pretty handy at weaving grasses and vines together into everything from hammocks to socks. Dan was quiet and kept to himself mostly, but he seemed content. And Sissy was having a baby.
His feelings about that last one were still mixed. Every time he saw his little girl’s swollen belly, his heart seized in his chest and he wanted to break Ricky’s face all over again. But then his thoughts drifted on to the bright side. He was going to have a grandbaby. He was going to be a grandpa.
After Junior was born, Lester thought he’d never feel anything quite as exhilarating again in his life. But he’d been wrong. Sure, the tornadoes and earthquakes and floods had proved that first, but anticipating the arrival of his grandbaby was quickly shadowing all that.
He hummed as he cleaned his kill, six fat crappies from the small lake near their campsite. Dan had been right about the place. It was miles from the nearest trail, and they hadn’t seen anyone else in the few months they’d been there. Still, they had built a shelter to camouflage the camper and their new campsite.
Ricky slipped in beside Lester, setting down a grass basket Granny had made for rinsing the fish in. His face was long-healed, but he still seemed to move sideways around Lester, like he was ready to bolt at a moment’s notice.
Lester didn’t blame him. He wasn’t entirely sure he should be trusted around the boy yet either, but he was trying. He gritted his teeth and nodded in thanks.
Ricky lingered a while, chewing on a piece of grass while Lester gutted the fish. He held a hand up over his eyes and stared off into distance. “We keep that roll a foil Old Man Johnson brought along?”
Lester raised a bushy eyebrow. “Whatcha need it fer?”
Ricky didn’t answer, and when Lester looked up, something crawled over the sun behind him. Everything dipped into shadows as a soft whirring filled the sky and a dust cloud rolled over the campsite. Lester coughed into the crook of his arm as he turned around.
The thing was as tall as the St. Louis arch. It looked like a bullet pointing in all directions as it hovered over the hill between their campsite and the lake. One of the silver points funneled inward, creating a wide opening for a red beam of light. It flickered across the grass below.
Lester’s arm dropped as the dust settled. He scowled at the spaceship and then glanced back at the camp they’d just finished setting up.
Ricky spit out the piece of grass. “Well, shit fire.”
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
This novel was quite the venture. We won’t lie; Working on any project as a team is challenging. Though it didn’t seem to “test” our marriage the way we’ve heard it did for other coauthor couples. We didn’t always agree, and sometimes the lack of sleep made us bitey with each other. But overall, it was a fun experience… that we may or may not do again.
We had a great support group through this project! Some big thanks are due to Robert Reason, for answering all of our random technical questions; Daryn Carver, for helping build up our hillbilly lexicon; and for everyone who helped with proofreading and typo catchin’ on such short notice, since we slid into this deadline like the World Series was at stake.
We skinned our knees up pretty good, but we think it was worth it.
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
PAUL ROSS is a hunting and prepper enthusiast. He knows what to do in a tornado and an earthquake, but he’s not so sure about alien invasions. He does have a pretty
fancy foil hat though. Find him online at
www.backwoodsarmageddon.blogspot.com where he likes to discuss the art of survival.
ANGELA ROQUET is the author of the Lana Harvey, Reapers Inc. series and Crazy Ex-Ghoulfriend. She doesn’t hunt or prepare well for bad weather, but she is pretty crafty and knows how to make a mean foil hat. Find her online at www.angelaroquet.com
PAUL & ANGELA live with their son in Sedalia, Missouri. They like to spend summer weekends at the Lake of the Ozarks, then bundle up inside all winter with a big pot of chili and Firefly reruns.
Backwoods Armageddon Page 9