Parched

by Lou Cadle

  Arch demanded they go right now, and on this point, no one could battle him. The problem was, they only had one car. All three of them and Joan had to go. They could cram a fifth person in the rear seat.

  Rod said, “Misha and I can ride in the trunk. Just leave it open and we’ll sit there, facing backward. Right, Mish?”

  “Sure,” she said.

  Curt said, “I’ll stay here and patrol, just in case there are more of them than you think and they come up here.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Arch said. “I don’t want to leave our homes and animals undefended.”

  “I’ll keep an eye on your place,” Curt said. “Don’t worry.”

  Joan said, “Emily, you keep an eye on our place and Curt’s, so he doesn’t have to worry about the far end of the road.”

  She nodded. The whistle they’d once used to signal danger was now hers full-time. As a person without a voice, she needed it more than those of them who could yell out a warning or call for help.

  They broke up the meeting and agreed to meet in fifteen minutes with weapons at the car, parked as always at the Crocker place, as Sierra was the one to usually drive it to the grain farm.

  His father had stockpiled weapons and ammunition, but the initial battles ten years ago had depleted them by almost half. Then hunting had depleted them further. They’d melted scrap lead, and his father had made more bullets, but the supplies of gunpowder and casings weren’t infinite either. They collected spent brass to reuse. And they switched to bow hunting most of the time, though occasionally varmints trying to get hens or rabbits still caught a bullet.

  What had mostly taken a hit was their practice time. They could not afford to waste ammo on targets, and so their skills weren’t what they once were. Arch had some snap caps for dry-firing, but those didn’t last forever either. And Arch would never admit it, but his eyesight wasn’t as good as it once was. Dev knew he was now the best shot in his family, his vision still perfect, his hand steady.

  He and his father took their rifles. His mother grabbed a Glock and carried the medical book with her.

  They got halfway to the car and his father said, “Forgot something,” and turned back for the house.

  As they crossed over to the car, Dev said to his mother, “Have you learned anything about that woman? Her condition?”

  “Yes, but my diagnosis might be wrong. If it’s right, she could be in trouble.”

  “Is there any way to make sure of what she has?”

  “Not without equipment—scanners or x-ray machines. And an endoscope. One of those tiny things they use to look inside you?”

  Dev really didn’t know. He’d never been seriously ill as a kid, and they’d not been television watchers, so he’d never so much as seen a video about it. “Okay,” he said.

  “But of course we have none of that.”

  “Is she going to lose the baby, you think?”

  “I’m more concerned she’s going to lose her life.”

  Dev felt fear on the woman’s behalf, even though he’d never met her and she was no friend of his. It was easy to remember how worried he’d been about Sierra and their child during her pregnancy, though Sierra dismissed any and all concerns.

  “Why? I mean, if she dies, how will she?”

  “She’ll bleed to death.”

  “So, like, she’ll have the baby normally, but it will kill her?”

  “That’s the risk. It’s hard to tell because the medical book assumes there are hospitals, so it keeps telling me to take someone to the ER, which is about as useful as telling me to take them to the moon.”

  They’d run into that problem many times. The book took his mother only so far, and then it said to rush the patient to the hospital or call a helicopter or ambulance. None of this was possible. The solution was in his mother’s hands—or there was no solution at all.

  Joan and her kids came up then, Misha and Rod carrying a rifle and a shotgun respectively. She pointed to the medical book. “Learn anything?”

  “That she should probably have a C-section.”

  “Can you do that?” Joan said.

  “No. Not in a million years would I even try.”

  “That’s not good.”

  Misha said, “Can I do anything to help?” She’d learned the most about first aid from his mother, though she didn’t get much of a chance to put the education into practice.

  Dev felt it necessary to point out what his father would say. “We’re not sure we’re going to try to help them in any way.”

  “This is true,” his mom said. “Maybe all I can do for the pregnant woman is to tell her what to expect. I hate to be the bearer of bad news.” She pursed her lips. “And I could be wrong. I hope I am wrong. Maybe it’s nothing.”

  Dev’s father came up then. “Ready? Where’s Crocker?”

  “I’m here,” Pilar said, coming around the back corner of the house. “Couldn’t find the key for a moment. Who wants to drive? Dev?”

  “Sure,” Dev said. He didn’t get much of a chance to.

  Pilar said, “Misha, no, you take the back seat with Kelly and your mom. Arch can sit up front and I’ll ride in the trunk with Rod.”

  “And my rifle, please,” Dev said. He didn’t want to have to keep track of it while driving.

  “Sure. Hand it over,” Pilar said.

  Dev popped open the trunk and waited until everybody was arranged. The car was riding low with all the people in it. He squatted down and checked the clearance. To Rod and Pilar he said, “Maybe hop out until we get down the driveway, just to be safe.” They did, the car made it down the driveway fine, and then the two men jumped back on.

  Dev waved to Curt as he passed him standing at the end of the private road, crossbow held in both arms.

  Arch grumbled, “He should have his rifle.”

  “He’s more comfortable with his crossbow these days.” Dev wondered why his father was in such a mood. He’d mellowed over the years—partly because of Zoe. Did he want confrontation today? Was his temper because of worry, or was it borne of anxiety to see action again? Dev still found Arch difficult to read at times. And this was definitely one of those times. Best to say as little as possible, for every word he uttered, there was a chance Arch would find fault with it—and with him.

  “Go faster,” Arch said. “We’ve delayed too long already. They may have fortifications built.”

  “Okay,” Dev said, but he didn’t speed up. He didn’t want to bounce Pilar and Rod out of the trunk. The road was much rougher than the last time he’d driven it, which come to think of it was over a year ago. When he left the property it was always on foot, to hunt. Otherwise his world had collapsed to a couple dozen acres and three houses—for he seldom went up to Curt’s cabin.

  He focused on the problem ahead, the possibility of confrontation or shooting, and he tried to gear himself up for a fight. It had been so long—two or three years since the last wanderers had come past.

  “How many again, Mom?” he said.

  “What?” She leaned forward.

  “How many people were there?”

  “Seven I’m sure of. If there are more, I suspect they’re younger children.”

  Joan said, “If there were more, they hid them well.”

  Seven without firearms against seven with. The outcome seemed inevitable. He hoped it would to the strangers as well, for he did not want to have to shoot anyone. If you’d survived ten years after the fall of civilization, it would be a damned shame to die now. So much smarter for them to back off and leave.

  As he pulled onto the dirt road that led to the grain farm, his heart sped as it seldom did. Usually these days, it was a brief fear for Zoe’s safety that made his heart pound. Of course, in a way, this moment was ultimately about that too. The thought made his resolve harden. He’d protect his daughter.

  No one greeted them.

  “Be careful,” Arch said. “They might have guns trained on us right now. Stick to cover.”
<
br />   Dev pocketed the key fob and said, “Key’s in my right pocket if you need it.” He meant, If I’m dead and you need to retreat fast, that’s where to find it. It wasn’t a key but an electronic device that let the starter work by proximity.

  Arch got out and hunkered down behind the door, checking things out through his scope. Dev opened his own door, moved low around the car to the trunk, and took his rifle from Rod, who handed it over without a word. He scanned behind them. No movement. No sun glinting off a scope.

  His father motioned him to go right, and Dev motioned for Rod to follow him. Up in the fields, birds were flitting around, picking up dropped seeds, no doubt, from that morning’s harvest. He checked the still-tall field and saw no people, no motion that suggested someone was hiding there. Though the birds probably wouldn’t be that active were there people hidden in the amaranth fields.

  “See anything?” he said to Rod.

  “Nope.”

  “We’re okay over here.”

  “I can stay here, just in case.”

  “Okay,” Dev said. “Find cover. Any of those big trees.”

  “Gotcha.”

  Dev returned to the car. Pilar, Joan, and his mom were still there. Misha must have gone with his father. “We’re clear on this side.”

  “Let’s go to the house,” Joan said.

  “Let’s wait for a signal from my dad,” Dev said.

  “Is Rodney okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah, he’s guarding that side of the road for now.”

  Misha came back a few minutes later. “Arch says it’s clear, but to be careful.”

  “They’re probably all in the house,” Joan said. “I’ll go first.”

  “No, let me, Mom,” Misha said. “I’d rather they see the rifle and know we mean business.”

  Joan clearly wasn’t happy about it.

  “We’ll lead,” Dev said to Misha.

  “I’ll take the rear,” Pilar said. “Going straight up the road?”

  “I guess,” Dev said.

  Misha said, “Arch is watching the fields behind the left-hand houses, and the woods beyond. Just in case, he said.”

  “Okay.” Dev stepped out onto the dirt road and marched forward, his rifle at port arms.

  When they approached the last house, where his mother directed him, a man stepped through the door. “That’s far enough.” He held a baseball bat.

  “Saul, it’s us,” Dev’s mom said. “We want to talk.”

  “We’ll talk when you put your guns down.”

  “I don’t think we can do that.”

  It looked like a standoff, but of course it wasn’t. If this group had guns, they’d be brandishing them now. Dev’s heart began to slow as he realized he wasn’t in much danger.

  “I don’t think they have guns,” he said to his mom, turning his head and speaking quietly.

  “No. Doesn’t look like it,” his mom replied.

  Joan stepped forward and spoke louder. “We need to talk first—talk like people. Friendly talk.” She stepped beyond Dev’s reach, and he didn’t know what to do. But she kept moving and he decided to let her. His hands began to sweat.

  She muttered a prayer as she walked up to the house, her hands raised to show she had no weapon. “Make us instruments of your peace. Where there is hatred, let us sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is discord, union.” There was more, but he couldn’t hear the rest of the words as she moved beyond his range of hearing.

  Brave woman. Dev hoped she wasn’t being too brave, and he knew were his father right here, he might stop her from walking up there unarmed. Dev would not, but his damp hands gripped the rifle, ready to raise it and fire if the man with the bat made an aggressive move, yet he didn’t move his feet at all, not wanting his own motion to trigger the man into violence.

  Joan stood facing the man on the porch, and they talked quietly enough he could not hear them. It didn’t take long until Joan came back. “They want Kelly, for the pregnant woman. And I said there’d have to be a third person inside to even up the numbers. But he doesn’t want us armed. Dev, are you willing to put down your rifle?”

  He wasn’t thrilled with the idea. But his mother said, “I have an ankle holster,” and that reassured him to know that she had the Glock on her. “Do you think they have any kind of guns at all?”

  “We’ve not seen evidence of any,” Joan said. “Kelly?”

  “None in evidence.”

  Dev knew his father wouldn’t like this. But he was his own man now, and he didn’t have to do everything the way his father would want. “I want to be there. I’d like to see them with my own eyes and figure out who they are.”

  “Okay,” Joan said. “Kelly?”

  “I’m willing. It’s why I’m here, in part.”

  “Pilar, Misha, what do you think?”

  Pilar said, “They aren’t making aggressive moves. That seems a good sign.”

  Misha said, “Be careful, Mom.”

  “I will. I won’t raise my voice. I’ll listen more than I talk. We can get through this.”

  “I hope they’re willing to talk freely,” Dev said. If they told a story that made him sympathize, he’d be more inclined to let them stay a few days—until the baby was born, perhaps. If they apologized for trespassing, that would be best. If they promised not to touch the grain still ripening, he’d like to believe the promise. But if they just sat there and glared, he’d be siding with his father. Drive them out, and follow them along the road to make sure they kept going past their neighborhood.

  In any case, his father was going to fight for that end. Dev might have to sic Zoe on him. Arch had a hard time staying tough in the face of her compassion.

  Zoe. The thought of her made his own compassion wane. He needed to keep his daughter safe, and he needed to keep her fed. That was the bottom line here.

  Still, he handed his rifle over to Misha to hang onto. His mom, Joan, and he walked back up to the man on the front stoop. He didn’t offer to shake Dev’s hand, just looked him over, nodded once, and then opened the door.

  Inside, there was the smell of meat, freshly cooked. Two women stood in the living room. Joan introduced herself and Dev. He was confused for a moment because he thought she’d met these people already.

  His mom said, “Hello, Saul. Becca, I’d like to see Janine. And talk to you both after that.”

  The shorter of the two women and his mom left the room, leaving four of them.

  Joan said, “Where are the others? I’d like to talk with everyone if I could.”

  “Out hunting and trapping,” the man said. Saul, his name was?

  Dev could smell the meat. It wasn’t rabbit. “What’d you just eat? Squirrel?”

  “Sigmodon.”

  Dev’s mind conjured a picture of a dinosaur, which definitely couldn’t be right. “What’s that?”

  “Cotton rat family. Big rodent.”

  So the word had been its species name. “You a scientist?” Dev asked.

  “Was.”

  Joan said, “Did you teach at one of the universities?”

  “No. Department of Agriculture.”

  “Really? Do you know anything about the government? What happened to it back when oil stopped?”

  “I didn’t stick around to see the last of it. But it was falling apart. And reports were sporadic from Washington.”

  “We couldn’t get news at all,” Joan said. “We were out of touch from quite early on.”

  “I guess it doesn’t matter now,” Saul said.

  “No,” Joan agreed. “But of course we’re curious.”

  “I’m sure you’re curious about more than that. If I satisfy your curiosity, are you willing to trade for it? Leave us alone, and we’ll tell you what we know?”

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  “How can you not know?”

  “Some of us say we should force you to leave before nightfall. Others are less intransigent.”

  Dev wasn
’t sure what that word meant, but the context made it sure. Some were willing to be violent, and some were not.

  “What about you?” the woman asked Dev.

  “What’s your name?” he asked in return.

  “Gili. Pleased to meet you,” she said, a habit that apparently took more than ten years to fade away. No one here was particularly happy to meet anyone else.

  “Ma’am,” he said. “My name is Dev. I’m willing to listen to you. I know my mom is worried about your pregnant woman.”

  “You’re Kelly’s son? You don’t look much like her.”

  Dev knew that. “But my father—he’s going to want you out. Like I say, I’ll listen. He isn’t inclined to.”

  “I’m not sure our story is your business,” Saul said.

  Dev didn’t rise to the bait. “Your choice,” he said with a shrug.

  The man stared at him, but Dev kept his face calm and composed. He was the one in control here, and he didn’t have to get defensive at all. Quiet and firm was the way to act.

  Joan said, “We figure you must have had a stable situation but recently were driven out. Or chose to leave. Maybe because of the pregnancy?”

  Nothing but silence greeted her statement.

  Joan said, “It must be hard. Six or eight of you, depending on how many children, no guns, pulling what you own in that wagon.” She glanced at Dev.

  Was that a cue? He supposed it was and searched for something sympathetic to say. “Gonna be harder to hunt in unfamiliar terrain.”

  “Helps that I’m a biologist,” Saul said. “I know animals.”

  Then why wasn’t he out hunting with the others? Maybe he was their leader. Maybe he was their best fighter, and so he’d been left behind to protect the weakest of them, the children and the pregnant woman. While Dev was curious how many children there were, he knew not to ask. That would feel like a threat.

  “We’re more desert-like here than we were,” Dev said.

  “Global warming’s a bitch,” said Saul.

  Joan said, “It’s pretty dry this year.”