by Schow, Ryan
Holding his ribs, trying not to acknowledge the pain that was there—and everywhere else in his body—he managed to get the fit under control, but only when he started to vomit.
Marilyn saw it coming and had a nearby bowl ready to catch most of his puke. Convulsing to the point of feeling like he was dying, his gut finally kicked and out came a few buckets of puke, much of it stinking of alcohol, and some of it adorned by strings of blood and speckled ash.
“Laura, I might need you to patch me up and maybe take me home,” he said, rethinking everything he had planned for the department. “I don’t feel so well.”
“I can stand in,” Derek said.
“You don’t look much better than I do,” Garrity said.
“I know, but…you know Marilyn,” he said with a grin. “She’ll start shooting first, then she’ll try to ask them why they’re dead.”
“I’m not like that,” Marilyn laughed, “but thanks?”
“I need to recuperate for a few hours anyway,” he said. “Then I need to get up to Gator’s place, see if we can put together a militia. And what happened to you, Derek? The official story, not some made up version of the truth to make you sound more heroic, or worse off than you already are.”
“I went to look into that lead you gave me about the drug dealers, and holy cow. They saw me and didn’t even care what happened.”
“You look like you got your ass kicked,” Garrity said. Derek lowered his head in shame. “Yeah, well join the crowd, buddy. Marilyn and Laura, I need you to get me a list of the top ten worst offenders in the county. Derek, later today or tomorrow, I’ll be heading out to Sugar Creek Pike to check on some friends, and to organize.”
“Organize for what?”
“We need to be proactive.” To Laura, he said, “Patch me up if you can, and get Derek taken care of. We need to be ready to rock ‘n roll tomorrow.”
“So, we’re forming a militia then?” Marilyn asked. “That’s what you’re saying, right? Because you’re kind of all over the place here.”
He looked at the four of them and gave a short laugh. “I guess I am. But never in my wildest dreams or worst nightmares did I imagine this day would come. It’s like things won’t stop spiraling out of control.” He cleared his throat, then continued. “When the defund the police movement took shape in 2020, blue lives changed in a heartbeat. Not just us, our families as well. And it wasn’t because of anything we did personally—I mean, George, yeah, that shit was wrong on every level—but we all sort of figured out this was part of the larger agenda being pushed. The one we haven’t figured out yet, especially with this EMP.”
“We already know who did this,” Derek said with a scowl.
“Regardless of that,” Garrity cut in, “when the county cut our funds, it hurt. But you stayed with me. When they doubled our responsibilities, reduced our pay, and then attacked us for doing our jobs, we survived because we had each other’s backs even if the chicken-shit politicians didn’t.”
“Amen to that,” Laura said.
“I asked you to work harder, risk more, do what we set out to do from the beginning of our careers, which is to ensure the safety of our people. We’ve been doing that, but our safety is at risk now. More so than ever. And our lives are on the line once again, but in an entirely different capacity. Two of these HR pukes burned the church on Keene Street with about seventy of us in it. Only myself and two women survived.”
“My God,” Laura said looking at him to see all the emotion he was holding back.
Marilyn’s eyes started to water, but Garrity saw her getting pissed off in an attempt to override the shock and the pain of such steep losses.
“We need to take stock of our weapons, and then we need to build that stock.”
“How?” Derek asked.
“We need to take them from the worst offenders,” Garrity said, looking each and every one of them in the eye. “And before we send them south, before we give those cockroaches the dirt nap they deserve, we need to get referrals.”
“Referrals?” Marilyn asked, covertly wiping her eyes.
He nodded, then said, “’Tell me who you work with and we’ll spare you a violent death.’ Like that. That’s the referral I’m talking about.”
Laura got really quiet.
“You have a problem with that, Laura?”
She said, “I used to think so, but now I’m rethinking things.”
Outside, someone started banging on the door. He didn’t have the emotional or physical bandwidth to deal with this today. But he had to align the troops before he ducked out.
“Can you please find out what that’s about, Marilyn?” he asked.
She nodded then went to see what the racket was about. A moment later, she came back, her cheeks flushed, her disposition filled with…something, although he wasn’t sure what. “There are twenty people out there, easy.”
“Laura, you’ll have to patch me up while I work. Same with Derek. Marilyn, will you get me those ten names, please?”
“So you’re staying then?” Laura asked. “No rest for the wicked and all that?”
He nodded, then said, “I’ll sleep more when I’m dead. Twenty people is too much to leave on all of you.”
“Like I said,” Marilyn echoed. “All over the place.”
“Give me a break, will you?” he said.
She held up her hands in mock surrender then backed out of the room. But just as soon as she left, she popped her head back in the doorway. “Just so I’m clear, are we going to proactively protect our county without oversight?”
He smiled, even though it hurt, and he said, “This is why I like you, Marilyn. Are you up for the task?”
She drew a breath, her eyes locked on his, and then slowly, she began to shake her head, yes.
“You’re talking about turning the Sheriff’s office into a hit squad,” Laura said.
He turned to her and said, “Indeed I am. Elected by the people to protect the people. This is how we’ll do our jobs.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Paul Parker
Paul Parker, the guy who Diesel Daley asked to care for his lunatic mother, was now up to twenty-one ways. Twenty-one ways to put this old bat out of her misery. For God’s sake, she wouldn’t shut her freaking pie-hole to save her life!
And that freaking TV!
Honestly, Paul couldn’t take it anymore. He was about to walk out of the house and let her die in her own noise and confusion when Edric Jennings pushed through the front door. Initially, he heard the door stick to the jamb, the wood making popping sounds as it broke its seal. Edric grumbled on the way in, shut the door hard, then dropped a few choice words in a voice too loud for indoors.
“Diesel! Where’re you at, brother?” Paul was in the living room sitting behind the old lady, who kept staring at the blank TV screen. Edric saw Paul and said, “Yo, where’s Diesel?”
“He left.”
“He just went without telling anyone?” Edric asked.
“I got the impression he thought he’d be back shortly,” Paul said, “so maybe that’s why he just cut out.”
“How’d he look before he left?”
Paul snorted out a cynical laugh. “With his stupid foot and his burned face, he looked like he was losing his grip on reality. But before we proceed with this conversation, why the hell am I here babysitting a cranky old goat? I came here to do my part, man. Not become a one-man nursing home.”
“So, he just took off?”
“Yeah, he just took off. He said something about getting his shit back.”
Diesel’s mother started screaming again. “Where’s my Bug? WHERE’S MY BUG?”
“What the hell is her Bug?” Edric leaned in and whispered.
They both looked at Diesel’s mom like they didn’t know what to do with her, but they needed to do something!
Edric made a funny look, like he had a solution. Paul’s eyebrows lifted on their own. Without a word, Edric walked into the kitchen,
ripped the old rotary phone from the wall, then headed over to Diesel’s mother and bashed her once over the back of the head.
The violent chime of the bell made Paul jump. That was the first strike. The next two strikes were worse. Red was now leaking into her curly white hair. It captivated his attention so much that he didn’t know whether to laugh or to be horrified.
She slumped over, and Edric paused the attack. He looked at her a long time, then he felt for her pulse, shook his head when he found one, then took the handset and clubbed her three more times really hard.
Then, like he could take it or leave it, he dropped the bloody phone, returned to Paul—who decided nothing about that was funny—and said, “Rhett said that if this place is nicer than his, and if the situation necessitates it, to take control.”
“So, we just…take it?”
“Are you deaf?” Edric asked. “That’s what I just said. Word for word, man.”
“I heard you, I was just asking for clarification.”
“Well, consider yourself clarified. Now that the decision is made, you’re going to have to go down there and tell him. He’s going to want to move everyone up.”
“Why do I have to go back?”
“Because you can attest that this place is way nicer. Plus we’re going to have Lexington and Cincinnati on the plate soon. Rhett’s already got his people in place, but Nashville’s not a leadership role, Pollywog. Where we’re at, this is the major leagues.”
“Yeah, this place is way nicer than where we were at,” he said, having come from the hovel they were staying at in Nashville.
In truth, though, he didn’t know what to say. Edric just killed the mother of the head of the Hayseed Rebellion. What would Diesel do? Yeah, Paul felt like it was just as well that he go. He didn’t want to be anywhere near there when Diesel got home.
As if speaking to his many concerns, Edric said, “It’s time we relieve Diesel of his position. So, first thing in the morning, you need to get Rhett and let him know it’s time to move the troops.”
“What about her?” he asked of Diesel’s dead mother.
“I don’t know…bury her in back, I guess.”
He took a deep breath, then shoved his hands in his pockets and said, “That sure seems like a lot of work, man. Digging a hole. Hurts my arms, you know? Gives my hands blisters.”
“Fine,” Edric said, “go out back and burn her.”
“Yeah,” he replied, “that’s a lot easier.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Gator
Gator was up at the crack of dawn, but it took Hudson and Leighton a minute to drag their asses out of bed. He walked outside, stretched, and yawned. The fresh air spoke to him, woke him and had him thinking he wanted to really squeeze this day’s nuts so he could get back home. That meant it was time to kick off a firestorm. But first the fire.
Hudson walked out in time to grab a few logs for later while Leighton sat on the porch in Gator’s chair with a blanket wrapped around her and her hair all messed up from a hard night’s sleep. The cuts on her face, and the bruising, was something to behold.
“You’re a beautiful horror show,” Gator said, teasing Leighton.
“That’s the look I was going for,” she replied with a grin. There was blood in the cracks of her lips. “Makes me seem more mysterious.”
“You’re a mystery alright,” Hudson said as he walked by. It looked like she had barely caught his lips, but then she saw the smile in his eyes, and to Gator, it looked like they might be kindred spirits, if not now, maybe sometime in the future.
When the flames were tamed and they had a nice bed of bright orange coals, Gator got started on breakfast.
His guests ate like this was the first meal they’d had in days. Maybe it was. He was happy to feed them, but he worried about long-term sustainability. He had planned on feeding himself for months, if not years to come. All those mouths would drastically reduce that time. Could he afford such generosity with an EMP pitching the world into electronic darkness? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that it was good to have people there.
“So we need to talk about what’s what in Nicholasville,” Gator finally said.
“Lots of garbage that needs taking out,” Leighton said.
When the cooking was done, Gator threw another couple of logs on the fire. Trixie, Buck, Ezra, and Chandra were still sleeping. Everyone else sat around the pit, warming their hands, basking in the campfire cologne. It brought him back to the old days when he was around people and more sociable. Now most of him either wanted five minutes with people, or five minutes to end them. There wasn’t much in between, unless you were a woman like Trixie. Then maybe he wanted five days, or five weeks, depending on the temperament of the woman. Rather, their temperament for him. He liked things quiet.
“I think we need a community, or at least a council,” Hudson said. “The council I was part of was small and she left me, so now I’m here. And I’m grateful to be here.”
He looked at Kenley who looked back at him. He knew they were becoming tight, situationally speaking, but it looked like maybe Kenley didn’t like him talking about his ex.
So, that’s interesting…
“I think we’ll need to include the Sheriff in our planning,” Gator said. “Although, Sheriff Garrity was pretty messed up when we found him.”
“You and Trixie found him?” Leighton asked.
“No,” Gator said. “Your father and I found him. This was right before he and Faith left to go and find you.”
Buck walked out and sat on a log next to Leighton. She handed him a plate of mostly warm food. He took to the food like a starved dog. When he was done eating, Leighton pulled him close. He rested his head on her shoulder.
“We could use some resources,” Hudson said after awhile. “And we’ve got to each pull our weight around here so we don’t tax Alligator’s resources.”
“It’s just Gator,” Gator said with a grin. “And I’m thinking I have an idea that might be a little crazy in that it involves us going completely gangster.”
“What do you mean, gangster?” Kenley asked.
“You were with my dad?” Leighton asked, still stuck on what he said earlier.
Gator looked right at her, made sure she saw his lips. “Your dad and I were…trying to get ahead of any problems the city might have when we ran into this big batch of chocolate covered turds. We smoked a few of them, but they had guns, too, and they shot back. Unfortunately, there were more of them than us. Anyway, they knocked over all these grocery and drug stores—at least that’s what it looked like—so now I’m thinking if we hit them, and…dispose of them expeditiously…we can basically castrate two birds with one stone.”
“I’m game,” Hudson said. “And I like the way you think, Mr. Gator.”
“Of course you’re game, Hudson,” Kenley said. To Gator, she said, “The man has a cavalier attitude like I’ve never seen before.”
“You can call it what it is,” Leighton said, cold and dark. “A death wish.”
Hudson sat up straight, but didn’t dispute the claim.
“Don’t say ‘death’,” Kenley said.
“Because of your father?” Gator asked Kenley, having heard the story.
She nodded. “My father, Niles, Buck’s dad, all those people we…we…all these people,” she said, holding her emotions back, but losing that battle.
Buck took Leighton’s hand, which she let him do. He burrowed in closer into her. Kenley saw this too. She said, “Buck’s dad…that might be a blessing in disguise.”
“How do you mean?” Gator asked.
“Son of Sam,” Leighton said. Then she turned to Kenley. “Let’s call it what it is, regardless of everyone’s feelings. It’s a death wish. And more people are going to die. I don’t mean to salt your wounds here, but this isn’t exactly a temporary situation.”
“I know that,” she snapped, wiping her eyes.
“Then grow a freaking spine.”
When she said that, Buck slinked an arm around her lower back, like a kid would do to his mother. Maybe Buck was protecting her, but maybe he was used to showing love to those who were abusive as a means of protecting themselves. Gator had seen it before. He’d done the exact same thing when he was Buck’s age and a little older.
Trixie sauntered out onto the porch, then wandered out to the fire pit. She sat next to Gator, leaning her head against his massive shoulder. She’d slept in bed with him last night, although she’d found her way to the edge of the bed, refusing to bother him with things like pillow talk, sex, or cuddling. Gator was a gentleman before anything, but he was also sure things would change between them before long. Maybe for the better, but maybe for the worse, too.
“You snore,” she said, looking at him.
“He’s not exactly a child with that body,” Kenley said.
He wasn’t sure if it was his weight, his height, or his muscle mass she was referring to. “I take my physical fitness seriously,” he said.
Hudson started to laugh, then everyone started to laugh. In that moment, he decided he’d made the right move in having them there. The smiles were short lived, however. They were going to have to get dirty if they wanted to eat, and even dirtier if they planned on surviving this thing long term.
And here comes the thick one, he couldn’t help thinking when he looked up and saw Ezra. The cowboy kid walked out by the fire in a tee-shirt with his belly hanging over his belt loop, but a smile on his face.
“This fresh air is something else,” Ezra said, inhaling deeply. His hair was messed up and his baby-smooth face had some stubble on it, but otherwise he looked happy.
“What’s with the grin, Pork Chop?” Gator asked.
“I spent a few nights and days in my truck trying to get to my folks house. To have an actual couch to sleep on? With a blanket no less? Ah, man…that’s like a dream.”
Chandra walked out a moment later and looked at everyone like she was self-conscious of her pale skin and lack of makeup. Gator thought she was pretty, but her black hair was starting to grow out at the roots, the light brown showing through. The native Californian couldn’t look anyone in the eye, which was strange. It didn’t help that it was cold and she kept crossing her arms over her breasts so no one would look at them.