“No,” Emil answered. “Nor prosecuted, either.”
“He’s saying to shoot if we have to?”
Emil nodded. “Already been two killed at Robins. Man and his wife. A boy shot dead at Dairy Queen in Hiawatha. The suggestion is we post signs, close a few roads, make some security seen. Set up communication if there is trouble. We can divvy up the duties, but nobody should be out at night alone.”
The men nodded. A few voiced their commitment. Karla said, “I’ll come running if you need me, but I can’t be on patrol with Jessie home alone.”
“What about your man, there?” Mitchell asked.
“No disrespect, but I’m not exactly her man.” Ray hoisted Jessie to his hip with his free hand and she hugged his neck. “I’m visiting for a few days. My business is about done. I’ll be headed on to Kansas, shortly. That leaves Mrs. Becker to look out for Jessie by herself.”
“But you’ll help while you’re here.”
“Count on it. But truth is you need more men. I see fifteen . . . and Mrs. Becker, and say six or eight miles of road to cover day and night. Riding in pairs, two vehicles, three shifts, you’ve got one vehicle for every three to four miles. People will come and go between you. And what are two people gonna do when ten or twenty decide to help themselves to what you’ve got?”
“You have a better idea?” Emil asked.
“Only to find more help. And once you get the crops in, you might think about storing it and living in a location you can defend.”
“Where do you figure we find this help?”
“I’d try in town. A small one. You’ve got enough corn out here to feed a few thousand. Some folks will see the advantage of siding with you for food and security. Your real problem will be guns and ammunition. I’d be looking for ten thousand rounds per person and a bunch more rifles.”
“You talk like we’re about to be invaded,” Mitchell said.
“Maybe not tomorrow, but I wouldn’t give it long. Then again, the Army might come by first and seize your fields.”
“They do that, we’re not going to make it.” Emil gazed out at his corn. “We lose the crop, we can’t replant. Credit what it is, might be our last anyway.”
Ray shrugged. “You’re in better shape than most.”
“So why are you leaving?” Emil asked.
“I don’t have a stake here. And it’s likely to be the longest, coldest winter this country’s seen in a hundred years. A warmer climate sounds awfully inviting.”
Ray stepped off the porch with Jessie still on his hip. He walked to the end of the drive and let the group hash things out. He put Jessie down and backed away from the road as several vehicles approached from the south. They slowed as they passed—four young men in each of three cars. A loud bass rhythm pulsed the air through their open windows. Ray raised his rifle in salute.
Chapter 43
The meeting on the porch lasted an hour. Karla received a temporary exemption from patrol. They couldn’t exactly force her. Her neighbors were all there and agreed to the plan. They couldn’t realistically protect their land without protecting hers. But coming to her aid, if she needed it, was another story.
She walked to the truck and climbed into the driver’s seat. She spotted the control module on the floor and felt a little bad over disabling Ray’s truck and not telling him where she put the kill switch. She had done it to keep the truck from being stolen. She hadn’t known how long it would be sitting in the yard. When Ray took her gun, she was angry and saw no need to help him, even though he did give the weapon back.
Now, she thought she’d like to have his rifle on the property. He sounded good on the porch and had taken on three men in her house, but he wasn’t superman. She’d managed to catch him asleep. And she’d killed his companion in the process. How on earth could she get him to stick around?
Ray opened the passenger door. He hefted Jessie onto the console before sliding in himself.
“Were you in the service?” Karla asked. “That was the consensus of the men.”
Ray nodded.
“Other than Emil, they didn’t jump at your suggestions. They’re not trusting. They’re afraid to bring people on their land and don’t want to have to pay men to protect them.”
“They’ve been doing it all along,” Ray said. “The police. The army. They just don’t hand over the money directly.”
“Mitchell convinced them they could take care of themselves if they were better armed and set up defenses.”
“It would help for a while. But they’ll get tired, sick, have to harvest. They’re not up to it.”
“What would you suggest I do?” Karla asked.
“Move.”
Karla stopped in front of her gate, stepped out, and opened it. She pulled the truck though, relocked it, and climbed back into the truck. Turning to Ray, she started on her prepared lines.
“Look, I know you want out of here, and I’ve messed you up getting your truck ready. You can stay the night in the barn, if you like. Tomorrow, I’ll help you or we can find a mechanic and have the truck towed.”
Ray nodded faintly. The day was pretty much gone. He still had time to plug in the module. If the truck started, he’d be off for sure in the morning. If not, he did need a mechanic. The Honda was not an option. It couldn’t haul what he needed to carry.
“Thank you,” he said. “Hopefully, I can get an early start.”
“Can I sleep in the barn, too?” Jessie asked.
Karla considered the request. Jessie liked Ray and wanted him to stay. He seemed to like her, as well, and didn’t seem at all a threat to her. “You should ask him if it’s okay.”
Chapter 44
Ray replaced the control module. The engine still wouldn’t start. He cursed under his breath and moved his gear to the barn. He in no way liked being stuck with the hospitalities of the woman who’d killed Cheryl. He wasn’t exactly angry with Karla. He wasn’t close to forgiving her either. He’d seen men’s actions under pressure and understood what happened. People sometimes died, innocent people, when men with guns got scared.
The barn was big and red with a rounded metal roof. It was built on a slight rise, and dug in below it were dirt floored stalls once used for pigs or cattle. The upper level he’d been assigned had a wood floor and was a third full of baled hay and straw. He fashioned a platform from the bales that was level with the loft loading door and spread out his sleeping gear. The bag had been cleaned—the blood stains only a faint outline.
He opened the loft door and looked out over the yard. Jessie stepped from the house, lugging a sleeping bag. Karla walked behind her with a pillow, blankets and a large canvas bag. They slid open the barn door and Jessie stepped inside. Karla dropped her load at the door and glanced up at Ray. She reached around a beam and turned on a light.
“When you two get settled, you can come to the house for dinner.”
“If it’s all the same, I’ll eat here. I have food.”
Karla shrugged. “Suit yourself.” Then she turned and left.
Jessie scrambled up to Ray. He prepared her a sleeping space a few feet below him, then stacked a wall two bales high around the perimeter. Jessie squealed with delight and spread out her bedding. She dragged an extension cord from the wall and set up a computer.
Ray held up two cans. “I’ve got beans and franks and beef stew. Which would you like?”
“Beanie Weenies.”
Ray climbed down, set his folding stove on the bare floor, and placed bales for seating around it, campfire style. While the cans warmed, Jessie showed Ray pictures from the computer—her school, her friends, her mother and father and cousins.
She pounded the keys and sighed in exasperation. “A lot of sites don’t work.”
“Have people told you what’s going on?”
“People are fighting,” she said. “And they’ve broken lots of things.”
“So many, I’m not sure they ca
n ever be fixed.”
“Mom can fix anything. I bet you can, too.”
“Not so much.”
The door slid open. Karla glanced in and placed a steaming pot on the floor. “Thought you might like some sweet corn.”
Jessie slid from beside Ray and fetched the pan. They ate the six ears, then their canned food. As it grew dark, they turned off the lights and climbed the bales to their nests. Ray leaned his hunting rifle near the open loft door and stared down the drive to the road.
Two vehicles passed in the next hour, travelling slowly together. Through the nightscope Ray saw young men, scouting. The neighborhood patrol came by a half hour later. No traffic in the next hour. Ray lay down. When he woke in the morning, Jessie was curled up beside him.
Chapter 45
Jessie made faces at the stale cornbread they ate for breakfast. “Mom has food.”
“I wasn’t expecting company. I’ll do better next time.”
“You’re going to stay?”
Ray heard the excitement in her voice and wanted to let her down easy. “I’ll be here till I get the truck going. Might be a day or two. Hard to tell.”
Karla came out with coffee, hot chocolate, and homemade cinnamon rolls. She left them at the door.
“Your mom doesn’t like me,” Ray said.
“She sometimes doesn’t talk much.”
Mid morning, Ray went up to the house. He called forty automotive repair businesses listed in the phone book. The only two that answered could not look at it for more than two weeks and did not tow. He relayed the news to Karla.
“You can stay as long as you like,” Karla said. “Jessie’s glad for the company.”
“How about towing mine into town with your truck?”
Karla didn’t look happy, but agreed. Then she asked, “Do you want to leave it there or wait till they’re ready for it?”
“Better to wait.” He made an appointment sixteen days out.
Ray returned to the barn and stewed. He had lost a lot of time since he’d decided to leave Tennessee. He did not like to second guess his actions, but he’d made a bad mistake and gotten Cheryl killed. He couldn’t change that and saw nothing to gain in dwelling on it. They had gotten Jessie home. That was a good thing. Now, he needed to focus on his survival, and that meant moving on.
He remembered the gun dealer by appointment only and considered repair shops could be operating out of men’s homes as well—safer likely. If they wanted customers, they’d have to make their presence known beyond word of mouth. TV ads were impractical and the newspaper had stopped publishing. Signs in their yards or on their former businesses made the most sense. He walked to the truck and unloaded the Honda. He got the gate key from Karla.
Farm trailers stretched across the pavement near the intersection to County Home Road. Beyond them sat a row of round baled hay—a cheap and effective barrier. It was unmanned at the moment, and Ray skirted around it using the two foot gap for the drainage ditch. The setup was clearly meant to stop cars and trucks, not pedestrians and cyclists.
Ray swung into a gas station on Blairs Ferry. He filled the tank and bought two homemade sandwiches on display inside, along with enough canned soup and stew to fill his backpack. He noticed the products were made by a company in Minnesota. A positive sign, he thought.
He cruised the north side of town. Traffic was sparse but some businesses remained open, primarily drug and convenience stores. Closed were tanning salons, dry cleaners, real estate offices, insurance agents, gift and antique shops, and most motels. He was surprised to see a golf course open and in use. Ray stopped at nine auto repair shops. Three had been broken into. He took down numbers posted on the front doors of two others. He stopped at the gun shop and copied the number posted there. That store, too, had been trashed.
On the return ride, two men with rifles stood behind the hay bales Ray had passed on the way to town. He stopped and recognized Mitchell Ordway.
“Thought you were gone,” Mitchell said.
“Soon as I can. Some problems to sort out first.”
“Tell Karla I’ll be by to check on her.”
“I’m sure she’ll appreciate that.” Ray revved the Honda and made to go around the barricade.
Mitchell blocked him, rifle up but not aimed. “Road’s closed.”
“To residents?”
“To everyone. It was agreed at the meeting.”
“And just what harm is there if I go up that ditch to the farm?”
Mitchell fingered the rifle. “We got orders to stop anyone who tries to get through.”
Ray stifled the urge to pull the Beretta and instead gave Mitchell the cold-eyed stare. “I’ll remember you said that and pass on the news to Karla.”
* * *
Ray knocked at the door and Karla let him in. He passed on the news about the road closing. She seemed unconcerned. He didn’t mention the threat, figuring to save that tidbit. He called the shop numbers and arranged to get his truck checked out in nine days, chopping a week off his wait. His mood improved, but he was still way behind schedule. He could make up some of that, laying in ammunition and food and studying maps on Jessie’s computer.
He called the gun shop number. After a negotiation, Ray agreed to buy 500 rounds for his .308 hunting rifle and 500 .223 rounds for the AR-15. He arranged to meet the man in an open field northeast of Alburnett.
“You’ve got a thousand dollars?” Karla had listened to the whole conversation.
Ray nodded.
“And you’re going to meet a man in an empty field? Why?”
“I don’t imagine he wants people to know where he keeps the ammo . . . or for that matter, the money.”
“Would you like me to come along?”
“I said I’d be alone. The man seemed deeply suspicious.”
* * *
Ray reached the meeting point first and sat on the bike a hundred yards off the road, the engine idling. Over fifteen minutes, several vehicles passed. One was his man, for sure, scrutinizing the situation. A Jeep wagon pulled in from the east and headed slowly toward him. Fifteen seconds later, a Ford pickup entered the field from the west. Those vehicles had crossed in front of him minutes earlier, sweeping the road. Ray appreciated their caution.
The Jeep stopped fifty feet to his left. The truck the same distance to his right, driver’s side facing him, a rifle barrel protruding from rolled down window. Ray felt the sudden need for backup.
The Jeep moved closer. Ray stepped off the bike. The driver wore sunglasses on a wide, tanned face and a Chicago Cubs cap over short brown hair. They traded the names they’d given on the phone.
“Would you mind telling your partner to lower the rifle?” Ray asked.
“No offense meant. It’s just the times.”
“I’m going to reach into my pocket and get the money. Is that all right?”
“I’d prefer if you removed the pistol from your belt, first. Say, put it on the hood of the car.”
Ray lifted the gun with two fingers and placed it at his feet. “Will that do?”
The man smiled. “Yeah, let’s see the money.”
Ray produced a roll of bills and spread them to show the multiple hundreds.
Without taking his eyes off Ray, the man reached beside him and lifted two cardboard boxes to the window sill. Ray handed over the money and took the boxes. He placed them on the ground as the Jeep eased away. He quickly opened one—25 boxes of Federal .223, full metal jacket boat tails. The second box held the .308s.
The Jeep stopped at the edge of the road. A rifle barrel appeared in the driver’s window. Ray hit the ground and scrambled for the Beretta. The pickup backed away. When it swung toward the road, Ray saw a woman at the wheel. Ray remained prone with the gun up until both vehicles were out of sight.
Chapter 46
Ray woke with Jessie beside him. She had joined him in the barn nearly every night for a week, always starting on
her platform, but often moving up to his. Karla didn’t seem to mind she slept there. She might have thought it safer than the house. He heard occasional shots in the night. She must have, too, but the walkie-talkies the neighborhood watch distributed had not crackled with requests for help.
Ray used the down time to gather supplies, noting fences sprouting across formerly open roads, and checkpoints appearing at random spots. He now possessed canned food to last a month, corn meal for two more; plenty of weapons and ammo; six jugs of gas plus a full tank in the truck was enough to cover a thousand miles. All he needed was the truck.
He called the mechanic the day before the scheduled drop off. He got no answer on six tries. He rode to the address he’d been given and found it deserted. When he returned to the farm, he arranged an appointment for the next week at another shop. Then Karla got her first call from the watch.
“I’ll go,” Ray said. “Can’t leave Jessie alone.” What he really meant was he couldn’t risk Karla being injured or killed and him stuck there longer yet, looking after Jessie.
Karla acquiesced and Ray left on the bike with the AR-15. He found Mitchell Ordway and Carl Riesman standing guard over several vehicles while the rest of their party confronted raiders hidden in the tall corn.
Two men emerged from the field dragging screaming women. A teenage boy yanked at a women’s leg as though it were a tug-of-war. He lost the contest, charged the man holding her, and punched him in the face. The man shoved him back, one handed. Mitchell raised his rifle and shot the boy dead. The women were released at the edge of the road. They stood as soon as the men stepped away and ran back into the corn.
Carl shook his head and stomped the ground. “Tie ’em up! They get away, they’ll be back and clean me out sure.”
Two more women were dragged out. “Move and you’re dead,” Mitchell called out.
They jumped toward the corn. Mitchell dropped the slower woman with a bullet between her shoulder blades. The one ahead disappeared into the field.
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