The Shadow of Armageddon

by LeMay, Jim

  Before the Last Days, this, being Saturday, would have been a busy “weekend” day, and thus a bad time to leave Mitch alone with the young men to run the stall. But weekends no longer existed. People didn’t go to regular Monday-through-Friday jobs. They worked whenever work needed doing, except on Sunday in this Christian community, banishing the notion of weekends along with so many other pre-Last Day concepts. This Saturday wouldn’t be any different from any other day of the week, and the four should be back before the market opened Monday.

  The older guys had talked about the trip at length, trying to decide exactly where Coleridge Gardens was in relation to the stash and how long it would take to get there. They had gone there from the opposite direction, from Columbia, and weren’t exactly sure how to get there from Coleridge Gardens. When they figured out the site’s general area, they estimated that it would take a day to get there and a day to get back. They told the younger guys where they were going, of course, but nothing of their glum expectations.

  They reached the site sooner than they thought, just after midday, the basement of what had been one of the ubiquitous automated convenience stores located in rural America. This one had stood at a country crossroads with no other buildings around it. It had burned and was so well concealed with the building’s fallen-in debris and decaying vegetation it was unlikely to be discovered. Just in case it was though, they had buried the gold in the four footlockers Chadwick had stored it in just outside the basement wall. Johnson had suggested this location as a hiding place because it was so remote. The gang remembered the store because they had scrounged it soon after the Last Days before it burned.

  At first the four stood under the giant walnut tree that loomed over the basement, without moving to begin excavating. Stony and Doc started arguing over whether or not the site appeared to be disturbed. Matt’s temper flared at their temporizing. And then at his own.

  “We’re not gonna know until we open the ground,” he snarled and grabbed one of the shovels they had brought. He paced the proper distance from the tree and began to dig. Lou grabbed the other shovel and also started to work. They dug for what seemed a long time. Doc relieved Matt, grumbling that he didn’t remember them burying it so deep. Stony offered to spell Lou.

  “With all due respect, little buddy,” said Lou, “I can dig up twice the dirt you can and I’m a long way from tired. Thanks, though.”

  Again Matt marveled at Lou’s endurance. He and the others were feeling the effect of the day’s hike, and he wouldn’t have minded a rest before tackling their project if there had not been so much at stake. He was honestly thankful when Doc took over his spade. Yet Lou could easily have hiked the rest of the day and then started shoveling.

  Then Lou’s shovel struck something solid. Without a word, he and Doc worked with renewed energy at uncovering the top of the first footlocker. Matt and Stony scrambled into the hole to help them, though careful not to get in their way. Even before they finished digging, Stony was working with the latch. As soon as enough dirt had been cleared away, with a grunt, he threw open the lid.

  To find the footlocker empty.

  No, not quite. In the bottom, in the very center, was a fist-sized stone. Under it was a piece of paper with writing on it. Matt reached in and pulled the paper out. The note on it was crudely lettered, badly faded, and difficult to read. But there was no mistaking whose lettering he was looking at.

  The note had been written by Frank Johnson. “Are you gonna read the son-of-a-bitch,” said Doc, “or stand there lookin’ at it all day?”

  “You don’t want to hear it,” said Matt quietly. Then he read the poorly spelled note aloud: “‘Sory fellars figered I needed this stash morn you. Save yur strenth. don’t dig no futher.’”

  They stood there for awhile without speaking, numb. Finally, Lou shook himself and climbed out of the hole. “I don’t know ’bout you guys,” he said, “but I’d like to camp as far away from here as possible tonight.”

  They agreed. No one suggested looking for the other three footlockers.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Of course Mitch was devastated by the news of Johnson’s perfidy, probably more hurt than the others. It was he, after all, who had been Johnson’s closest advisor for so many years. He had helped implement Johnson’s wild schemes when he couldn’t talk him out of them and served as the gang’s quartermaster, mentor, and chief negotiator. He didn’t speak at first. He just sat there with his black brows drawn together in a deep scowl. Finally he sighed and said quietly, “You gotta give the bastard credit. He had chutzpah.”

  Matt was surprised that Mitch knew the word but it well described the brash effrontery of Johnson’s cruel joke. He could have stolen the stash at any time after their theft from Chadwick, and the rest would never know it unless one of them went back secretly to check on it. Johnson had counted on the other men’s trust in each other, and him, to keep them from doing so. Matt could imagine Johnson’s secret glee as he listened, while trucking with them each season, to their speculations of how they would eventually use their wealth, secretly knowing that it was in some location known only to him and, presumably, to his wife. He probably intended to just not return to Nellie’s Fair some spring. They had no idea where he wintered; he only told them “somewheres up north.” Or was that just another lie to throw them off his trail in case they went looking for him when they found the gold missing? He may actually have spent his winters somewhere else entirely.

  “That blows my theory about Downing all to hell,” said Matt.

  “Not atall,” said Stony. “If Downing had a led Chadwick t’ the site, they’d a found the same thing we did.”

  “No, Matt’s right,” said Lou. “They wouldn’t ’ve covered the hole up nice and neat with the note still in there like we found it. They’d ’ve left it open just like we did.”

  It being Sunday, the market, of course, was closed. They had found Mitch alone in their room mending a shirt when they broke the news to him. The younger men were downstairs playing pool with Billy’s boys.

  Stony looked at Mitch. “Well, Boss,” he said. “I guess it’s time for plan B, huh?”

  “I’m open t’ suggestions here,” said Mitch.

  No one spoke for awhile. Their situation was much more precarious now. Their enemies were undoubtedly still looking for them, or would be as soon as the market in Columbia closed.

  Then Mitch said, “We still got a way out. We got our savin’s. It ain’t as good as what we had in mind, but it’ll git us outta here. Matt needs t’ go t’ Nellie’s Fair right away. Sorry, Matt, but in case you stumble acrosst Chadwick’s boys, you’re still the only one a us he ain’t met.”

  “That’s fine,” said Matt. “We’ve already talked that over.”

  “Anyhow,” said Mitch, “we all write up an’ sign withdrawal authorizations, an’ Matt takes ’m t’ the bank an’ gits our savin’s out. We pool that, buy some horses or mules, an’ git the hell outta here just as soon as this market’s over. Our savin’s and our take from the market oughta git us t’ Colorado.”

  “Good thing we ain’t sold the trucks yet,” said Stony. “They’ll carry a lot a scratch.”

  “There’s one thing that’s different now,” said Doc. “We was gonna finance the kids’ scratch with the gold, but now we ain’t rich enough for that. I don’t know ’bout you boys but I don’t want my savin’s goin’ t’ buy clothes for a bunch a kids that didn’t have nothin’ t’ do with earnin’ that money.”

  “You’re right ’bout that, Doc,” said Mitch. The others agreed.

  “We’ve got to tell the younger guys about this,” said Matt. “We ought to have a confab with them right now to explain what happened. Let them decide if they still want to go with us since they’ll have to buy their own scratch or stay here or go back to Nellie’s Fair. Chadwick doesn’t know them. We need to decide what to do about John, too. He, especially, is blameless for all this.”

  “Yeah, we gotta tell the kids,�
�� said Mitch, “but we got a little time t’ think ’bout John. Let’s git through this part first.”

  “We oughta even encourage ’m t’ go their separate ways,” said Doc. “It’d be better for us as well as them. Five of us ‘d be easier t’ hide out than ten, easier t’ feed, cheaper t’ finance.”

  “I think Matt and Doc’s both right,” said Mitch. “Let’s git the kids up here right now an’ tell ’m what’s goin’ on. You go git ’m, Lou. Then you tell ’m the story. Maybe your deep voice an’ big hulk’ll keep ’m focused on how serious this is.”

  So Lou fetched the young ones, told them that he had something to tell them and they must keep quiet until he finished. Then each could have his say. Knowing that what they were about to hear would not be good news, the young men solemnly listened as Lou told of the missing gold and of Matt’s immanent return to Nellie’s Fair to retrieve their savings. Then he told them that the gang no longer had enough money to finance their scratch; each would have to provide his own if he wanted to remain with the gang.

  As promised, the kids were then allowed their say. Leighton started first of course. He stridently demanded that everyone’s scratch be paid for out of the gang’s scratch fund. They all needed clothes badly, especially good warm clothes for a winter journey across the high plains of western Kansas and eastern Colorado, and all except Leighton lacked weapons. All that scratch would be too expensive for them.

  “It’s still you older guy’s fault,” he insisted hotly, “that we ain’t got no scratch. That fact ain’t changed none.”

  Mitch stole Leighton’s thunder. He told them he understood their concern about putting out so much money to travel so far under such risky circumstances. None of them knew anything about the availability of truck or markets or what danger awaited them in Colorado. Mitch said the older men would understand if they chose not to go along. For a moment Leighton stood there sputtering, for a change without a word to say.

  Then the usually taciturn Rossi spoke up. “I don’t know ’bout you guys,” he said, looking at Leighton and the other younger men. “But we ain’t got no choice. We don’t know nothin’ ’bout this business. If it wasn’t for these guys, we’d still be stuck in Nellie’s Fair. More’n likely we’d be dead now. I think we oughta buy our own scratch an’ go with ’m,” and he looked at Mitch tentatively. “If they’ll still let us, I mean.”

  Kincaid abruptly jumped to his feet. “We like doin’ this! You gotta let us go ’long, Mitch.”

  As usual Miller looked bewildered. “Whadda we done?” he demanded. “We work as hard as anybody.”

  “Yeah,” said Leighton. “We helped you git the truck this far an’ now you don’t need us no more.”

  “Settle down, boys,” said Mitch. “This talk was just t’ give you a chancet t’ decide if you wanted t’ go ’long with us or not. If you want t’ go an’ if you’re willin’ t’ buy your own scratch, you’re welcome to. The rest of us are payin’ for our own. That ain’t the way we wanted it, but that’s all we can afford t’ do. Life just ain’t fair.”

  There was a little more discussion, but it was finally decided. They would leave for Colorado as soon as Matt returned from Nellie’s Fair, the young men included. The market would be over by then.

  “You oughta take off in the mornin’,” Mitch said to Matt. “We can git along with one less at the market. These here boys was surprisin’ly good at the stall while y’ was gone.” He grinned briefly at Leighton. “’Specially Red. That kid’s a born salesman.”

  Leighton grinned a little, somewhat mollified.

  That evening after dinner, Matt and Mitch talked to Billy about Matt’s return to Nellie’s Fair the next morning to withdraw their savings and asked him the best way to get there. Matt also asked if he could rent one of Billy’s mules to ride there.

  “They ain’t broke t’ ride,” he said, “but Bernie’s always got a horse or two t’ rent out.” He described the most direct route that would allow a detour around Columbia. “Even though they ain’t s’posed t’ know you there,” Billy said, “sometimes it can take awhile t’ git through the check points, an’ Chadwick’s men are known t’ keep somethin’ a yourn that they figger they need more ’n you do.

  “It’ll take y’ ’bout four days t’ git there if y’ really pound the road – that’ll be Thursday night if y’ leave tomorrow – an’ four days t’ git back. End a the first day y’ll git t’ a big mess a tents straddlin’ 63 Highway direc’ly east a here. That’s Stanley Market. The Stanley family sets that up oncet a month through the summer, but a course their real big market is at this time a year. That’ll be a good safe place t’ stay for the night, an’ they don’t charge much for you an’ the horse. Highway 63 goes south direc’ly through Columbia, but you won’t do that a course. You’ll ...”

  After they finished talking with Billy, Matt packed what he needed for the trip and went to bed.

  * * * *

  John hadn’t said a word during the confab. He wanted to remain unnoticed so that no one would bring up his membership in the gang. To his surprise and great relief, no one mentioned it.

  But the confab had presented him with a more immediate problem, one that might make that of permanent membership irrelevant. The young guys, including him of course, had to provide their own scratch. The other youths could afford to replace theirs with their share of the take from sale of the truck. He had no such source of income. He only had the few ens Mitch h ad given him for his discovery of the mirror.

  That evening, while Matt and Mitch conferred with Billy Kane about Matt’s route to Nellie’s Fair, the first of the two other gangs that Bernie expected arrived. John happened to be on the front porch at the time, brooding about his money problems. The gang was composed of six big sturdy women led by a woman named Annie Austin. Bernie greeted them jovially, introducing them to John as the Pike County Dykes, to which Annie, their leader, responded with a grin and a poke to his shoulder, challenging him to join her in their garage bedroom after she’d cleaned up a little and had a few drinks. “Then you decide how I’m tuned.”

  That evening when the other gangs began to drift in from the market, Bernie’s staff was busier than usual, with the addition of the new scroungers for meals and drinking afterwards. It turned out that Billy Kane and his men knew Annie Austin and her companions well; Billy had sold them their mules.

  As the bar grew louder and the reefer smoke filled the space, John felt sorry for Bernie and his women.

  But in Bernie’s dilemma, John suddenly recognized the potential solution to his own.

  The next morning, Monday, John didn’t see Matt at breakfast, but he knew that Matt had risen early to begin his journey. John also came to breakfast early, but soon the dining tables were full and diners had spilled over to the two round tables at the back of the bar. With the addition of the six new scroungers, there were over thirty people staying at Haas House now. The bedrooms were all filled. This fit in perfectly with John’s plan.

  He wolfed down his breakfast before anyone else finished and sought Bernie, found him replacing one of the kegs in the bar. He waited quietly until Bernie finished, then cleared his throat to attract his attention. Bernie turned to face him.

  “How are you this morning, John?” he said in his usual cordial manner.

  “Fine, Bernie. Say, would you have a minute that I could talk to you?”

  “Sure, what about?” Bernie had started dusting the shelves behind the bar. John hardly ever saw him not working at something, even when talking to customers.

  “I was just thinking. Looks like you could use some more help around here.”

  “You sure got that right.” Then he stopped wiping and turned around, looked at John curiously. “Whatcha got in mind?”

  “Well, I was thinking maybe I could help out some.” Once started, he continued in a rush, to get his speech out before Bernie could say no. “I’m a really, really hard worker and I’d work real cheap and I really need to make some mo
ney before we leave. You see, everyone in the gang has to buy his own scratch. I helped bring all the truck here and never slowed the gang down a bit. I even found one of the best pieces of truck, a full-length mirror. You can ask Mitch and Matt and the others.”

  Bernie seemed to mull this over for a moment, then said, “I don’t doubt you’re an important asset to the gang, John. But scrounger work isn’t the same as what we do. Scrounging probably seems fun to you, but a lot of our work is tedious and boring.”

  John smiled a little as he thought of the days spent hauling the carts through mud, getting soaked by rain. And of pushing the rafts up the Grange River with water up to his waist. He said, “We scroungers have our share of hard and boring work, but at least most of your work seems to be inside out of the rain.”

  “We’re inside except for stuff like shoveling out the corrals and stables, but you’re part right. We don’t do that in the rain. So what would you see yourself doing for us?”

  “Whatever you see me doing. And if I don’t work out, Bernie, I’ll understand if you tell me to quit.”

  “At least there aren’t any child labor laws any more.” Bernie rubbed his chin while appraising John. John had never seen a grown man without a beard except in pictures. “S’pose I had you start helping Joey shovel horse shit outta the corrals and stables?”

  John’s eyes lit up. “I’d be good at that, Bernie; I’m strong. When do I start?”

  Bernie chuckled. “No, I don’t need you for that. I just wanted to see how bad you wanted to work. Luke and Jake are experts at pitching shit – they were raised on farms – but they ain’t worth a shit at the job I’m thinking of for you. And you can start right now if you want to.”

  “Great! What do I do? Oh, wait, I better tell Mitch so he’ll know why I’m not at the stall today.” Finding Mitch just standing up from the breakfast table, John said, “Bernie wants me to help him out some around here. I guess you don’t need me at the market?”