Chapter 39
“What bad men might come back?” Karla asked Jessie as they left the hospital parking lot in Ray’s truck.
“The men when we got home. They were in the house and tried to kill Uncle Ray.”
“He’s not your uncle. What happened?”
“He shot the man who jumped off the roof. I saw him.”
“A man jumped off the roof?”
“He landed on Uncle Ray and tried to stab him.”
“Where were you?”
“With Cheryl. We were supposed to stay in the truck, but we heard shooting.”
Karla didn’t want to ask what became of the men. She had a pretty good idea and hoped Jessie didn’t know.
“Are they the ones that broke the door?”
“Uh huh. Cheryl and me put everything back.”
“Are Ray and Cheryl friends with your father?”
“Unh uh.”
“How did you meet them?”
“I left daddy’s RV. They said they’d bring me home. I had to pretend they were Aunt Cheryl and Uncle Ray so we’d fool the men at the roadblocks.”
“What else did they tell you to do?”
“Just to pretend I’d been in Tennessee with them because my mommy thought it was safer.”
“Well, you’re home now. I’m so glad to have you back.”
“Auntie Cheryl is real nice. She bought a stuffed cat because I lost Mr. Edwards. She put up notes everywhere to welcome you home.”
“I didn’t see them.”
“On the doors. Just look.”
Karla turned onto Marion Road and in few minutes into her driveway. In the low light of predawn, she saw Cheryl’s notes—taped to the garage door, the front door, the kitchen door, and the kitchen table. The same words on each handwritten sheet.
Mrs. Becker,
Jessie is home. Please don’t be alarmed at our presence. We brought her here from Tennessee and are looking after her until you return.
Ray and Cheryl
Cheryl had foreseen Karla’s concern and taken precautions. But Cheryl had not expected her to arrive in the middle of the night and to miss every note because she hadn’t turned on a single light nor entered through a door. Karla wished now she had.
Chapter 40
A nurse came by, told Ray there was a blood shortage, and asked if he would donate. He did but noticed many of those waiting declined. He scanned the hall more carefully. Four in the morning and at least seventy-five people waiting for a doctor or for a patient already inside. Several had obvious bleeding injuries. A few appeared ill. Many wore loose fitting cloths and tightened belts. Ray sat on the floor and leaned against the wall.
The sun rose. No word on Cheryl. Ray woke to a hand in his pocket and lashed out, knocking a man’s legs from under him. He jumped on top and landed two punches before realizing the man was in fact a teenage boy. Ray stood. A guard ran toward him as did a petite thirty-something woman, screaming. Ray explained the attempted theft as the bloodied boy got to his feet.
The boy’s mother dragged him away, cursing. Ray shrugged it off and stepped into a cafeteria farther down the hall. The doors were open but there was no food. He sat anyway, with a dozen other people, happy to be off the floor. The TV was on and all eyes were glued to the stream of bad news:
Mexican drug cartels had taken over south Texas. The US military had attacked the cartel’s bases in Mexico and engaged the Mexican army. Martial law had been imposed in Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona, bringing the total number of states under military control to twenty-six.
In the eastern refugee camps, Cholera, malaria, and typhoid fever had broken out. A shortage of drugs and doctors hampered treatment, but more were said to be on the way from the EU. The EU was also responding to separate flu-like outbreaks in the middle-east and central Asia.
Russian troops had crossed the Bering Strait, seized an Alaskan airport, and set up a base camp on the road to Nome. The US government had issued a protest and a warning.
Ray returned to the hall outside the ER. A nurse told him Cheryl was in surgery on the second floor. He went up one flight and waited in the hallway outside the surgical center. An armed guard escorted him to a waiting area near the intensive care unit. A nurse asked if he would donate blood. He said he already had.
* * *
Noon. Ray had been at the hospital eight hours without news on Cheryl. He walked the floor in search of something to eat. He learned the hospital had stopped food service to all but medical staff and patients after looters had targeted the hospital. Even after the army had taken over, families were expected to provide for patients.
Ray fell asleep in a chair and woke to Jessie standing in front of him, dangling a plastic shopping bag from one hand.
“How is Auntie Cheryl feeling?” she asked.
Ray smiled for Jessie. “I haven’t been able to see her. She’s very, very sick.” He rubbed sleep from his eyes. “How did you get here?”
“Mom’s over there.” She pointed to the door, but her mother wasn’t in sight. “She said to give you this.”
Jessie handed him the bag from Hy-Vee. Inside were two ham sandwiches and bottled water.
“Thank you, Jessie.”
She sat in the chair beside him. “Mom said you’d be hungry.”
“She was right. There’s no food here.”
“When are you coming back?”
“When Cheryl’s better, we’ll come by to see you.”
“Why did mommy shoot her?”
The question surprised him. He hadn’t thought Jessie understood what had happened. He hadn’t told her, and he was sure her mother hadn’t. “It was a mistake. Your mother thought we were robbers.”
“But you aren’t.”
“She was scared. She didn’t mean to hurt Cheryl.”
“Will she get punished?”
Ray stared at Jessie, in jeans and sneakers and a pink cotton top. Her blond hair was clean, shiny, and smelled of strawberry. Her face was scrunched in real concern. “I don’t know how this will all work out yet.”
“Are you going to hurt her?”
Ray gave Jessie his baffled smile.
“I’m not a baby. I watch TV. I read books. I know what people do to get even.”
“The world’s not all about revenge, Jessie. But sometimes it is necessary.”
“Like the man on the roof?”
“Not exactly.” He thought about what she’d seen. Did he kill the men to protect himself or because of what they’d done. He viewed his actions as self defense, but he had not fully considered his reasoning. “Yeah. They got what they deserved.”
“What about mommy. What does she deserve?”
“Did she ask you to talk to me?”
“She said she was sorry. She asked me not to be angry.”
Ray looked to the door, but Jessie’s mother remained out of sight. “Something like this: I understand, but sorry just doesn’t cut it.”
“Are you going to eat your sandwich?”
“Sure am. Would you like to share?”
“No. Mom said it was all for you.”
* * *
Jessie left. Ray had thought about talking with her mother, but he had no kind words. He would not accept an apology. It would only anger him. Better if no words were exchanged. He checked on the motorcycle. It was still chained outside the door. He asked again about Cheryl and was told the doctor would see him when he had a chance.
Eight o’clock. Ray lost patience and went looking for Cheryl over the nurses’ objections. He found her in ICU, unconscious, hooked to an IV and banks of monitors. He held her hand. Her eyelids fluttered but didn’t open. He told her he loved her and that Colorado could wait till she was ready. He stood to leave as the guard walked in.
“We’ve only been married four months,” Ray said. “I needed to see her before . . . .”
He dodged the guard’s hand and walked to the wai
ting area. The nurse gave him a scowl. He sat and waited and slept from time to time. At two, a new nurse motioned him over. She was young and very pretty with a somber face.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “We did all we could.”
* * *
Ray returned to the cafeteria without food. He had seen men with worse injuries than Cheryl survive in Iraq. He questioned her care. How long they had waited. He remembered the nurses asking for blood and wondered if they had enough for proper surgery. Maybe that was why no one from the surgical team had spoken with him.
Shit. It was his fault. He should have said no to Jessie. They should have slept in the barn. He shouldn’t have reached for the gun. Any one of those choices and Cheryl would be okay. They’d be on their way to Colorado. Now, he’d do it alone.
He looked up at the TV. US missiles had hit Vladivostok in Russia and numerous bases and submarines. The military still had some muscle, but the Russians would certainly retaliate. None of us have long, now, he thought.
He watched the news all night and learned a great deal. The Chinese had destroyed most Russian military and communication satellites more than a month earlier. The US and British had wiped out their radar. They were unprepared for what hit them. Follow up strikes were still continuing.
Chapter 41
Karla heard the motorcycle and watched Ray chain it to her fence. He climbed over the gate and stepped toward the house. She tucked the 9mm in her waistband. She briefly debated not answering the door. She should have put his things outside, in the truck; he would not leave without them. But if she had and they were stolen, he’d hold her accountable. She held the gun as she opened the door.
She had not seen him in daylight, other than a quick glimpse at the hospital. Ray was not yet thirty. He stood half a head taller than her and was very fit. He had the look of a serious man grown scruffy and immensely tired. He did not smile.
“I’ve come for my gear.”
“I’ll bring it out.”
He stepped into the doorway, forcing her back. She raised the gun, and he took it from her in a swift move.
“Don’t think you’ve done enough damage?”
Karla swung at his face. He blocked the blow easily and pushed her into the hall.
“Cheryl’s dead. I’m going to get my things and be gone. Is that simple enough for you?”
“Give me the gun.”
“Not a chance.” He tucked it in his belt. He spotted his keys on a small table in the family room, pocketed them and moved on to his bundled weapons behind a leather couch.
Jessie bounded down the stairs. “Uncle Ray!” She ran to him and hugged his waist. “Is Auntie Cheryl coming home soon?”
Ray turned a questioning face to Karla while he hugged Jessie. Karla shook her head vigorously.
Ray paused to consider his answer, then went with the truth despite Karla. “No. Cheryl won’t be coming. She died last night at the hospital.”
Jessie stared up at Ray. Tears formed and slid down her cheeks. “Why did she have to die?”
Ray dropped to a crouch. “Sometimes, when people are hurt really bad, their bodies can’t be fixed.”
“I wanted her to come back.”
He gave Jessie a big hug. “We both did.” He let her go after a minute and stood. “I stopped by to pick up my things and to say goodbye. I’m real glad to have met you, Jessie.”
“Please stay.”
“I can’t, Jessie. I have to go.”
He picked up the first load and handed Karla her pistol as he carried his guns to the truck. He came back for the bedding and his pack and Cheryl’s purse.
“I need the key to unlock the gate.”
Karla rose from her seat beside Jessie on the stairs. “I’ll open it when you’re ready.”
“That will be now.” He turned to Jessie and said goodbye once more. Then stepped out the door.
Chapter 42
Ray stowed his gear and climbed into the cab, figuring to load the Honda after he passed through the gate. He slipped the key in the ignition and cranked the engine. It didn’t start. He tried again, then let it sit a minute. The third try produced no better result, not even a sputter. He stepped out and raised the hood. A quick look revealed nothing out of order. He walked to Karla, standing in the drive.
“Truck won’t start, probably flooded. Open up. I’ll load the bike while I’m waiting.”
Ray took his time with the Honda, then checked again under the hood. The truck still refused to start. Ray wished he hadn’t dumped the one Dee and his friends had come in.
Jessie appeared beside him toting a bottle of water. She handed it up and Ray thanked her.
“Were you and Cheryl married?”
“No. We just fell in together and it worked out.”
“Were you going to get married?”
“I guess the same as. We were pretty much stuck on each other.”
“Did you and Cheryl yell at each other?”
“No. Some arguing, that’s to be expected.”
“Mom and dad yelled a lot.”
“Your mom’s a bit feisty.”
“What’s that mean?”
“She likes a good tussle.”
“She says you can stay for supper if you can’t get the truck started.”
“Let’s hope I do. Think maybe there’s tools around here I could borrow?”
“Mom has lots of tools. Want me to ask?”
“I need a sparkplug wrench and a circuit tester. Can you remember that?”
Jessie nodded and ran for the house. She returned ten minutes later with the tools. Ray pulled a plug, cleaned it, and hooked it to its lead wire.
“I need you to turn the key all the way to the right while I watch here.”
Jessie climbed into the truck and turned the key. The engine cranked but no spark. Ray signaled Jessie to stop. She hopped out and came round beside him.
“Is it going to run?”
“Got an electrical problem. That’s going to take some time.” With the tester, he worked backward from the plug checking voltage and impedance. He didn’t know the proper specs, but zero to him meant a short.
“Maybe Mom can help,” Jessie said. “She fixes everything.”
“Something’s not right with the control module. I need to find another one. Maybe your mom knows where there’s a junkyard open.”
Jessie ran off. Ray finished the water and sat in the truck. He picked Cheryl’s purse off the floor in the back. He needed money to buy parts. He had given the last of his to the hospital in what was likely a senseless gesture. He opened her wallet and found it stuffed with bills. He removed three hundred, then realized putting the rest back in the purse was an invitation for someone to steal it.
Jessie returned. “Tinders, out near Vinton. Mom says the owner lives there.”
“Ever go for a ride on a motorcycle?”
“Un uh. My mom wouldn’t let me.”
“She might today, go ask.”
While Jessie was gone Ray pulled the rest of the money from Cheryl’s purse and whistled low. More than two thousand dollars in her wallet and in an envelope. He and Cheryl would have done fine setting up in Colorado—wouldn’t have needed half of that.
Jessie came back waving a set of keys. “Mom says I can go if we take her truck.”
Ray thought: what is going on with her?
* * *
The junk man in Vinton liked to talk. Ray and Jessie used three hours covering the fifty miles, bargaining a price, then removing the control module from a wreck. But with few potential customers, the part came cheap at twenty dollars.
When they arrived back at the farm, Karla stood at the gate, a lever action rifle against the fence by her side. Ray put his pistol on the seat and kept a sharp eye on her as he pulled in, but Karla made no move for her weapon. He leaned out the window.
“Did I break curfew?”
“Emil Machek asked for
a get together—a few of the neighbors.”
“Hand grenades optional?”
“Would you come with me?”
“Why?”
She nodded at Jessie.
“If we’re going to be gone awhile, I’d just as soon stow my gear in the garage.”
“You’ve got the key.”
Ray shut of the engine and hopped the gate. He returned a few minutes later carrying an AR-15.
Emil had three hundred acres a mile to the north. His driveway was lined with assorted pickups and a couple of sedans. Ray pulled into line. Several men with long guns looked him over suspiciously until Karla and Jessie stepped from the truck. Ray took his time following.
Emil stood on the front porch of a substantial two story farm house. His large arms swung from wide shoulders topping a more modest frame. His sparse white hair and wrinkled face had Ray guessing him north of seventy.
“Who’s your friend?” he asked Karla.
“Ray Bramlett, babysitter,” Ray took Jessie’s hand.
“Bodyguard?”
“He’s a friend, Emil.”
Emil eyed the rifle and the banana clip.
“I carry it to scare people,” Ray said. “It works more often than you might think.”
“You have trouble, Karla?”
“I’ve had to run off a few men.”
“That why the gate and bars?”
She nodded. “How about you?”
“Carl and Mitchell had people picking field corn that wasn’t close to ready. They’ve left me alone, so far.”
On cue, Mitchell Ordway joined them and said hello. He eyed Karla like she was an ice cream cone ready to melt. Emil cleared his throat and men began to assemble. Ray stepped back to give them room.
Emil scanned the faces on his porch. “I spoke with the sheriff this morning about the thefts we’ve suffered. He says it’s going on all over the county. He hasn’t the men for rural patrols. His advice was to set up our own.”
“Neighborhood watch sort of thing?” Paul Hardesty asked. “Will we be deputized?”
Times What They Are Page 16