Jill had revealed a side of herself he hadn’t known existed. Wanting the conversation closed, Nash said, “I will.” He went to bed wondering why fate had chosen him to partner with such a hard-bitten person.
********
Nash awoke lying on his back. The sun-bright unfamiliar ceiling above his head gave him a moment of panic. A flood of remembrance of the previous day set the panic firmly in place. He rolled onto his side. Thirty-feet away, Jill’s head was barely visible above the back of the padded office chair. Nash, wearing the clothing he’d worn the day before, swung his legs off the mattress and stood.
He called good morning to her.
She spun the chair around to face him. “Good morning to you. Do you know you snore? ”
Ignoring the question, Nash dug his phone from under the pillow to check the time; Eight-thirty. He noted he still had no signal bars and the battery charge was low.
“Thanks for letting me sleep in. Do you need a nap before we start the day?”
“No, I’m fine. I slept most of my watch.”
“What…!”
Jill laughed at his expression of consternation, “I’m kidding, there was no way I could have slept through your snoring. The volume would give a steam locomotive a challenge. I won’t need a nap though. I’m wide awake.”
As Nash moved to where she sat, she turned her chair to gaze though the glass of the windows giving view of the road beyond the driveway. To him; though she spoke perky enough; in the bright sunlight streaming through the window she looked tired.
Jill continued speaking, her tone more serious, “We goofed up yesterday. We should have parked our vehicles out of sight.” She paused to toss him a set of keys. “I hate to rush you, but I’ll feel a lot better if you do that right away. There’s no need for us to advertise we’re here.”
“I’m on it.”
“Wait. Didn’t I see some two-way radios in the sporting goods pile?”
Nash turned to the pile. “Yep,” and he repeated his laconic, “I’m on it.”
Nash found the radios. He put batteries into two of the four he’d bought and gave one to Jill.
“The instructions said they’re factory-set on a channel. Top button makes the other party’s unit vibrate. The lower button is for speaking. Turn yours on. I’ll back away a few feet so we can test them.”
Jill did as requested and then spoke into the radio, “Can you hear me?” They both heard his unit say her words. To check the send function worked on his unit, he replied, “Yes. Clear.”
Jill said, “I’ll stay on guard while you move the vehicles. Several cars passed by this morn… wait; there goes another, a pickup. Good, he didn’t slow down. One did slow down not long after I took over from you last night. It braked and backed up and stopped in front of the driveway for a few seconds.”
Nash thought about her statement and asked, “Are you sure hiding the jeep and van is a good idea? Maybe whoever eyeballed the property last night saw them parked out front and passed this place up because it looked occupied.”
Jill turned the chair to face him. “I thought moving them would be the smart thing to do, but maybe you’re right.”
Nash shook his head, went back to where she sat, saying as he walked, “No, I was asking because I don’t know either.”
Jill grimaced and said, “Christ, what a pair of survivalists we’re not. It should be a simple thing; hide them or show them.”
Nash said, “Neither of us has a degree in surviving the apocalypse. The only thing going for us is most other people are just as ignorant…How about this; I park the Jeep and trailer across the driveway by the entrance to block the gate. There’s plenty of clear space to maneuver and the gate only swings inward.”
Glancing toward the drive, she replied, “I think that’s a great idea… intimidating; makes it seem someone is probably on guard.”
Nash left the house and moved the jeep and trailer to block the entrance to the property. The high, wrought-iron gate itself was imposing, easily ten-feet tall with thick, narrowly spaced vertical bars with pointed tops. The massive stone pillars supporting the gate also supported the tall end of short walls resembling flying buttresses.
Walking from the gate, he turned to look back. There was no wall or fence around the estate; the only impediment preventing a vehicle from bypassing the gate and driving directly onto the property was a rather narrow but deep drainage ditch. He knew his improvised blockade was merely a stopgap, an easily movable or surmountable obstacle.
Nearing the house, he called Jill on the radio.
“I’m going to take a look around the property. Do you mind staying on guard?”
“No problem. Check the back door. It’d be nice to know where it is and if it’s secure.”
“I’ll go through the house and find it.”
He found several entrances to the home. In the office they’d earlier found adjacent to the elegantly furnished main downstairs room was a door that let onto a small, columned portico. A wicker couch and two armchairs made it a perfect place to have a tranquil cup of morning coffee or a chilled glass of wine on a warm summer evening.
To Nash, trying to think survival, the door was a danger point. Back inside, he locked the door and began sliding the office furnishings to block it from opening. The heavy oak desk made a loud screeching sound when he pushed it across the hardwood floor. A second later, his radio vibrated.
“What’s going on downstairs? … I hope that’s you down there.”
Nash explained, and then said, “Sorry.”
“Just give me a heads up next time. You scared the crap out of me.”
Nash moved another few items to weigh the desk down. He left the office and wandered from the main room into a short hall leading toward the rear of the house. There was a door on each wall.
The door on the right allowed entry to a walk-in coat closet. The wall on the left had a set of ornately trimmed bi-fold doors. These doors opened to a fully stocked wet-bar complete with the equipment to prepare any beverage, hot or cold.
The short hall opened to a large room, another great-room, albeit smaller in dimension than the one upstairs, its function was obviously a space for entertaining large gatherings.
The impossible to secure, thirty-feet of sliding glass doors of the outer wall, made him feel he’d wasted effort blockading the office door. The wall of glass effectively extended the room to include the slate pavers of the rear patio.
He backtracked from there and made his way to the downstairs kitchen. In the rear corner of the kitchen was a set of swinging doors that opened to a stairway that connected the upstairs and downstairs cooking areas. A door on the outer wall opened onto a concrete loading dock. Steps led down to a paved extension of the entrance driveway.
The lack of fencing made it impossible for Nash to estimate the size of the estate. He had a feeling the nearby fruit orchard and the surrounding fields belonged to it. He noted several outbuildings, one a barn with a tractor visible through the open doors.
The barn and outbuildings, placed far from the house, provided a wide empty space any intruder would need to cross.Nash now regretted blowing-off Matt Braxton’s plea to join them. It would take more hands holding guns to ward off even a small attacking group.
Standing outside on a perfect June morning, hearing the trilling of birds and seeing the slight breeze undulate the seed heads of tall grass covering the fields he found it hard to believe that humanity was suffering a devastating Ebola epidemic.
The lack of information about what was going on beyond the borders of the estate was aggravating, making him anxious to find a radio. He went back inside to search for a portable, flicking the light switch by the rear entrance to check if the power had come back. Nothing happened.
Twenty minutes later, he rejoined Jill by the head of the stairs. “It would take hours to search every nook and cranny, but I did a quick search for a portable radio.”
Jill shook her head, “Your hands are
empty.” Then, replicating his thoughts, “We need to know what’s going on, how bad things are.”
Nash agreed. “Yes we do, but if the epidemic is rampaging like the newscast indicated it was yesterday, it must be much worse by now. I was thinking about our situation while I checked things out. Anyone still alive will need food and probably meds and baby formula, you know essentials. The problem is, they will be afraid to go out to resupply; afraid they’ll become infected. I mean, there could be dead people everywhere by now. The bodies, their clothing and anything an infected person touched carry the potential of giving you Ebola.”
Jill said, “The virus spreading airborne really compounds the problem. In static air, a sneeze or cough can propel droplets dozens of feet. If there is a breeze, the infectious agent can spread farther than that. Simply entering a store or home carries a risk of catching it.”
Nash nodded agreement, “A hell of a choice; stay at home and starve to death or die from lack of medication, or venture out and risk catching the disease. Those living in cities are against a rock and hard spot. I doubt any hospital or store is safe to enter. Even looters will have to think twice about entering homes because they may find themselves exposed to dead people inside them.
“Out in this rural area most people will be better stocked. I’ve been thinking about that conundrum. Many of the desperate city dwellers will realize this. They’ll come searching not only because of potential supplies, but because they’ll have a better chance of encountering people who hunkered down and so far have avoided contact with the virus.
“While I was looking through the downstairs, thinking about how to secure it, I have to tell you, there’s no possible way. The rear room is almost a duplicate of this room. There are over thirty-feet of glass patio doors.”
Jill said, “We spoke about all this already, about roaming thieves and not having enough people holding guns. Do you have a solution?”
“I say we leave. I made a mistake bringing us here. This estate is too exposed; the very grandeur of it makes it a prime target.”
“And go where?” Jill asked.
“I think we should abandon your van. Load the jeep and trailer and search for a small cabin far from any main road… Actually, one tucked off in the woods and out of sight from any road. Hell, I bought good tent, canvas, not a flimsy nylon tent that acts like a sieve when it rains. Camping in the wilderness sounds great to me. We can go through our supplies and reduce them to fit what we need into the Jeep and trailer. The four-wheel drive will be what we need to get off into the wilderness. About fifty miles from here is a Wild Life Management area where my bike crew sometimes rode. There are trout streams and lakes all through it.”
Jill stood. “Camping may be the best solution. An epidemic depends on vectors to spread from one person to another, or for someone to contact material or surfaces where the Ebola virus is still viable. The epidemic ends when vectors are exhausted’ when there aren’t enough people left to intersect with each other. Given time, even the virus on surfaces will die.”
“How long do you think it will take before it’s safe to be around other people?” Nash asked.
“Months, at least, perhaps a year, but it’s complicated. Some virus can survive in damp areas for even longer. I don’t know much about the Ebola virus. For all I know it can go dormant waiting for proper conditions to activate it again.”
After a slight pause, Jill continued to speak. “Do you mind beginning the sorting while I take a nap? I’m tired and I want to be alert when we leave. Don’t let me sleep long. We should aim to leave in daylight. Traveling at night would creep me out.”
Nash moved toward the piles of their belongings. “We’ll need daylight to locate a place, but I doubt we have enough supplies to hide out for months, several weeks at best.”
Jill, walking beside him, stopped beside the low mattress and squatted to sit on the edge. “We’ll figure out what to do. Don’t worry about making noise.
*******
Sorting the supplies to carry with them into the WMA wilderness, Nash couldn’t shake the feeling that they really needed to know what was happening beyond the gates to the estate. The lack of communications, the inability to stream news and information at will, was frustrating, and in his mind, dangerous.
Before starting his chore, he went to the Jeep and connected his phone to its charger. Back upstairs, it took a long time to go through the piles, making what felt to be a life or death decision on each item. When he completed that task, he began the laborious work of carrying the supplies downstairs to stack beside the front door. The manual labor gave him time to think. By the time he set the last load in place, he’d made a decision. He and Jill would have to venture from their sanctuary to see how things were.
To facilitate an excursion he moved the Jeep and trailer from the gate, moved Jill’s rented van to block the gate, and then unhooked the trailer from the Jeep. Retrieving his mostly charged phone, he went upstairs and resumed guard duty, placing the swivel chair where he could observe the stairs as well as the road in front of the property.
He was going to let Jill sleep for four hours, but she awoke after only three hours. He heard her stirring on the mattress, turned and saw her sitting. “You can sleep longer if you want.”
She brushed her hair with her hands. “No, I’m good. What time is it?”
“A little after two.”
She stood and stretched. “Still enough time for us to go that wilderness area. Let’s get rolling. Is everything ready?”
“Yes, all but loading it from the front door to the Jeep. Before we do, I’d like to make a suggestion.”
She came to where he sat and leaned against the doorframe. “What’s cooking in your head?”
“I think we should make a quick trip back to the truck stop. See how things are there.”
Jill shook her head. “That sounds like a dangerous idea. Jeez, Nash, don’t you remember those two men pointing pistols at you?”
Nash had considered her possible objection. “I’ll go then; Just a quick run and turn-around to see if things are as bad as we think.”
Jill shook her head. “Oh, no, no, no, I won’t stay here wondering if you’ve run into trouble. If you’re determined to go, I’m coming with, but I’m keeping my pistol in my hand the entire time; from the moment we leave the gate until we complete the trip and drive back through.”
Nash said, ‘Fair enough. Let’s eat first. We didn’t eat breakfast. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”
“I suppose you want me to cook for you.” She moved from the doorframe, gave the chair Nash was in a mischievous spin and said, “You carried down the supplies, but don’t get the idea I’m the little woman that always cooks.”
Nash allowed the chair a full turn and called after her, “Hey, I didn’t ask, but if you’re volunteering, great.”
While Nash was outside moving the vehicles, he’d noted there was a lack of traffic on the road. Within minutes of Jill going to the kitchen, he heard the distant sound of a siren that steadily grew louder. A red pickup truck with several people in the rear bed sped past the estate entrance. Lights flashing, in hot pursuit a Highway Patrol car followed the truck, almost tailgating it.
This sight, though troubling, did give Nash the sense that there was some social structure still functioning — perhaps he’d over reacted. Maybe the spread of Ebola was contained and he and Jill would find everything functioning as normal at the truck stop.
Fifteen minutes later, the two vehicles returned with the patrol car leading them. No longer speeding, the patrol car slowed and both stopped in front of the estate. A man stepped from the car. Wearing a red jacket and baseball cap instead of a Highway Patrol uniform, the man dispelled any sense of normalcy outside the gates.
With a sinking feeling, Nash knew the men had killed the officer and taken his car. A deep fright coursed through him. He stood and raced the length of the great room and flung open the kitchen door.
&nbs
p; Jill, at the range tending a frying pan, spun around. “What the—.”
Nash shouted, “Quick, come with me. We’ve got trouble.”
He stepped from the entrance and she raced to join him in the great room.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
Motioning with his hand, Nash said, “Sneak to the windows until you can see the road.”
Moving with her, they crept toward the windows until they could see the road. There were no vehicles on the road outside the gates.
Nash stood from his crouch and went to the tall glass, straining to see as much of the road the view allowed. Turning to Jill, he said, “They’re gone.”
“Who’s gone?”
“The patrol car and pickup.”
Nash related the events he’d observed only moments before bursting into the kitchen.
Jill absorbed the news and said, “They stopped right in front of the gates. That’s scary. They’ll be back. You know they will. They were checking this place out.”
Nash agreed. “Yeah, they’ll be back, but let’s not be here. Is the food almost ready?”
Dismayed, Jill said, “Oh damn! The steaks are burning.”
From the food thawing in the powerless, walk-in freezer, Jill served up steamed vegetables and slightly charred rib eye steaks. They ate the meal sitting on the floor near the front windows of the great room.
Nash cut another bite from his steak, saying, “This is good.”
“Burnt is what it is. Eat faster. We need to load our supplies and get away from here.”
Feeling the same urgency she did, Nash swallowed the meat half-chewed and shoveled in a spoonful of vegetables.
Jill dropped her knife and fork onto her half-eaten plate of food and stood from the floor. “I’m done. Come on down when you’re finished.”
Nash placed his utensils onto his nearly finished plate. “I’m done too.”
Following her from the house Nash hurried to reattach the trailer to his Jeep. They were thirty minutes into loading it when Jill, coming down the steps from the porch carrying two boxes, called out. “I hear an engine. Someone’s on the road coming this way. Let’s hide in the house until they pass.”
Working With Cedar: A Post Apocalyptic Tale Page 8