Times What They Are

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Times What They Are Page 19

by D. L. Barnhart

“There were two girls not much older than Jessie.”

  Ray nodded. “Did they get caught in crossfire or maybe threaten Mitchell with their crayons?”

  “Stop it!”

  “Brittany is eleven, pretty girl, though a bit thin, doesn’t hardly talk.”

  “I said stop it. I understand what you did.”

  “But your neighbors don’t.”

  “It’s us and them. You sided with them.”

  “Yeah. Caitlin and Brittany would have made attractive bookends for Mitchell’s lineup.”

  “They are going to die anyway. You said it yourself. Only now, they’ll suffer more first.”

  “You’re the coldest woman I’ve ever met. Is that what you want for you and Jessie, when the time comes?”

  “If the choice is starving, freezing, and dehydration, thrown in with a touch of infection or illness? Yes. End it, please.”

  “I thought I was ready for the new world. Guess I’m not.”

  “You seem a decent man.” Karla paused. “I don’t normally respond well to people meddling in my business. But I’ve got to live here after you leave. I can’t make it without help.”

  “I understand,” Ray said. “But if they try to stop me when I come for my truck, I won’t back down.”

  “You’d take them on over an old truck that doesn’t run?”

  He shrugged. “I’m not looking for trouble. But I don’t see a long future with what I can carry on the motorcycle.”

  “I’ll explain the deal.”

  “Tell them I’ll be gone in a couple days. Maybe we can avoid a confrontation.”

  Karla started to rise, then leaned in and kissed him. A wave of warmth coursed through her, though his response was hardly encouraging. She pulled away with a smile.

  “I wanted to do that before you left. Thank you for Jessie.” Karla stood and walked slowly to the house.

  Chapter 49

  Ray watched Karla walk away. She was a hard person to read. She’d gone alone to Tennessee to find Jessie. It was inconceivable she was afraid of Emil and Mitchell. It had to be that she wanted him gone, as though his usefulness had ended. But that kiss wasn’t a thank you, goodbye. She was teasing him, he finally decided, and he was glad he hadn’t gone along. And even if she wasn’t, what had happened to Cheryl would remain between them.

  Caitlin didn’t present that problem. It was almost his situation with Karla in reverse. Karla had land and food and money. The farm offered a secure if temporary existence. For Caitlin, he offered much the same, though on a seriously lower scale.

  Ray closed the barn door and hauled his sleeping gear to the platform. He thought carefully about the next day. He did not trust Mitchell. Ray believed he’d gotten back to the farm without trouble today only because Mitchell’s men were licking their wounds.

  Tomorrow they would regroup. They might want to know where to find Caitlin and Brittany, or more likely, for him to do something about the two. He wasn’t going to help them; they would get angry. Ray worked his jaw. An even dozen men left, unless Emil had followed his advice and gone recruiting. Smart move would be to stay well clear of them.

  * * *

  Ray walked the wagon tracks between fields, making his way under a half moon to Karla’s back fence. He cut the wire, wrapped the ends around a metal stake, and jammed it into the ground, leaving a small gap between the stake and the fence post. He crossed into the neighbor’s field and turned south to another fence, beyond which a single engine plane sat on the far side of a mowed field. He made a gated opening there, too. He figured he could use the route once, if he ran into trouble.

  He returned to the barn and found Jessie sitting in the doorway.

  “I saw you walking,” she said.

  “You’re not supposed to be here.”

  “Mom won’t be mad at me. She’s punishing you.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “It’s like sending me to my room. She has to be real mad to do that. ’Specially without supper.” Jessie reached into the barn and produced a bag. Inside were a pork chop and a brownie.

  Ray smiled in the darkness. “You planning to spend the night?”

  “Uh huh.”

  They stepped in and Ray closed the door.

  * * *

  In the morning, Ray called the gun man and arranged to sell a few weapons. Ray had plenty of ammunition for the two .308s, the AR-15, the 9mm Beretta, and the .38. He had only a few rounds for several other guns including a .40 caliber Glock, a .357 Colt, the semi-auto 12 gauge, and the .30-30.

  He strapped his guns to the bike and met the dealer at noon in the empty parking lot of a veterinarian. The man was more cordial this time, dropping the tailgate on his truck so Ray could lay out the weapons. Guns were in demand, and he took them all. The price was held down by the shortage of money and lack of competing dealers. Still, they fetched a good price.

  The farmers market was next. He bought half a bushel of vegetables and a quart of milk. He picked up canned soup and sandwiches at the store and rode to Caitlin’s.

  She stepped out the kitchen door while he idled the Honda in the driveway, the only advance notice he could give. He climbed off the bike, gave her a hug, then opened the garage door. He rolled the bike inside and chained it. Brittany appeared beside Caitlin. He handed her the milk and she tucked it under her shirt. He hefted the food box and the AR-15 and followed.

  “Feels odd walking into your house with a rifle.”

  “I really don’t mind,” Caitlin said. “If people knew what we had, we’d probably need it.”

  He placed the box on the kitchen table and opened it. Caitlin removed the contents, stashing the sandwiches in a cabinet and the rest in the cellar. Brittany fetched glasses for the milk and drank hers immediately. Ray poured her another.

  “I’m glad you came.” Caitlin slid into his arms.

  “Do I need to go to my room?” Brittany asked.

  “Hush, now.” Caitlin backed away as a red glow crept to her face. “But you should get ready. We need to leave soon.”

  Ray waited for Brittany to close her door. “There are things I need to tell you.”

  Caitlin’s smile deflated.

  “I have to leave the farm.”

  “Because of us.”

  “Because of me. Neighbors are putting pressure on the owner.”

  “You could stay here.”

  “I didn’t tell you my whole story. I came here to deliver a young girl to her mother. I’d already be gone if my truck would start.”

  “You’re staying with a woman?”

  “I sleep in the barn, if that matters.” He saw from Caitlin’s expression that it did.

  “What are you planning to do?”

  “I’ve arranged to tow the truck to a mechanic day after tomorrow.”

  “Then you’re leaving?”

  “The world’s falling apart. I’m going to find a vacant corner and wait it out.”

  “Not much of a plan.”

  “It looked better where I came from.”

  Brittany returned in jeans and sneakers. “Could you do us one more favor?” Caitlin asked.

  “I’ll try.”

  “Give us a ride to the high school.”

  “Whenever you’re ready.”

  * * *

  Ray rode past dozens of small groups on the sidewalk, all heading toward the kitchen set up at John F. Kennedy High School. He eased up to a checkpoint short of the school and waited in line.

  “It’s the safe zone,” Caitlin said. “We’re okay inside.”

  Caitlin and Brittany showed ID to a police officer in riot gear. He wouldn’t let Ray through and the women climbed off the Honda.

  “How do you get back?”

  “We’ll connect with a group headed our way,” Caitlin said. “That’s how we normally come. But now . . . .”

  “I’ll wait.”

  Ray parked the bike and sat on t
he grass beside the sidewalk. Hundreds walked by in the forty-five minutes he watched. He guessed several thousand converged on the school for food during the couple hours it was available. This didn’t appear to be the poor end of town. He wondered what it was like there.

  * * *

  “It’s the same, most days,” Caitlin said, leaning into Ray on her couch. “Soup, a small bowl—corn, tomato, zucchini, beans. Sometimes potatoes and peas. I had a garden . . . . Now people eat weeds.”

  Ray considered the irony of a city gardener forced to steal from a country one.

  “What are you going to do when you get where you’re going?”

  “Hunt mostly. Grow a few things. Buy or barter the rest.”

  “You think it will work?”

  Ray shrugged. “Probably not. But I’m beginning to like the prospects here even less.”

  Caitlin glanced across the room at Brittany, engrossed in a book, then snuggled closer to Ray. “We’d like to come along. We’ll work. We’ll do anything. It’ll be a lot harder for you to go it alone.”

  “I probably make this move sound better than it is. For starters, there’s no guarantee I’ll even get there. Then the timing’s messed up—too late to grow food this year, and I’ll have to build shelter out of whatever I find. The first winter will be brutal. Survive that and things look up. But it will be the same everywhere. If you have something of value, sooner or later someone will find you and try to take it.”

  “I’ve been out of work since January. They cut the unemployment, then it stopped altogether. Half my friends are dead. Last night, two houses on the street were broken into. A woman was killed. Food stamps turned into a bowl of soup. We didn’t get that yesterday because men came after us on the way.” She pulled a Raven Arms .25 from a drawer. “I carry this when I go out. Four bullets left.”

  Caitlin stepped to Brittany and hugged her. “Do you want to leave, honey?”

  Brittany looked up from her book and nodded.

  Ray sucked his lips. “Two days before I get my truck back. We’ve got time to talk about it.”

  “We could use my car,” Caitlin said. “It runs fine. Just needs gas.”

  “It won’t make it where I have in mind or carry what I need.” He glanced around the room. “There’s no space in the truck for anything but food and what’s necessary to survive. You’d have to give up everything.”

  “We will anyway. I can’t pay the taxes; I can’t pay the mortgage. The only reason the bank doesn’t take the house is because they can’t sell it.”

  “And that means you can stay as long as you want.”

  “Like all winter without heat or power? The pipes will freeze. Maybe on a good day we can melt snow and flush a toilet.”

  Ray didn’t respond. Caitlin saw the same future here he did.

  “What did you take when you left home?” she said. “It’s hard if there’s a real choice, but there isn’t.”

  Ray stood. “I need to get back, get my things together.”

  “Please think about it. No responsibility for what happens. I go into this with my eyes wide open.”

  Caitlin walked him to the kitchen. At the door she hugged him hard, and kissed him. “You could stay here,” she whispered.

  He smiled but knew he couldn’t. He kissed her gently and held it until he ran out of breath. He slid his hands under her top and across the soft skin of her back, then down to her jeans and into her back pockets. He looked up to soft footsteps and Brittany stepping toward her room.

  Ray kissed Caitlin a last time then backed away. “I’ll see you tomorrow, promise.” He picked up the rifle and stepped through the door.

  * * *

  Ray rode north on Council Street, passing mostly tidy houses, then a bungalow with the front door kicked in. Across the street, a group of teenage boys eyed him from Noelridge Park. One boy lazily swung a handgun. Ray raised the AR-15 and gave them a good look. He wasn’t in real danger, yet, but Caitlin was right to be worried.

  He cleared Collins Road and considered Caitlin’s proposition. Ray hadn’t wanted Cheryl along in the beginning. She was beautiful and wealthy and young—completely out of his league. He’d been sure she would use him to escape, then dump him at the first opportunity. He’d been wrong. He thought about the frigid nights in the mountains. The newness of the situation, the developing trust. He wished she was still hugging his back.

  But she wasn’t. Caitlin wanted her place. He didn’t know her, either. She was attractive and willing to use her charms. He felt sorry for her situation, but he wasn’t dumb enough to think she had fallen in love. She was trying to protect her child. That was the bigger problem.

  Two more people to worry over and feed. And life in the wilderness was not for everyone. If they didn’t like it, there’d be no way to send them back. He thought of nights with Caitlin, Brittany close beside them. It would take adjustment, for all of them.

  Then there was Karla, adding to the complications. For all her moods, she was prepared, capable, and determined—outstanding attributes for a partner. But stubborn to a fault. She would die on that farm trying to defend the indefensible. A sad waste.

  Ray approached County Home Road and saw Jimmy’s truck across the intersection. Another truck sat on the opposite shoulder. Ray slowed as Jimmy stepped from the cab, rifle in his hand. He wasn’t Mitchell, but Ray didn’t like it. He leaned the bike right and hit the throttle wide, carrying a hundred to Route 13. He blew the stop and turned north, opened the throttle again, then slowed for the turn onto Burnett Station.

  Jimmy would call, tell Mitchell he’d gone around. If they wanted to stop him, which Ray believed they did, they’d set for him at the north end of Karla’s road—the open end. If he got there first it was better. He crested the rise past Sutton Road and saw a truck turn at North Marion. He jammed the brakes and U-turned.

  He rode Sutton Road to the field with the lone airplane. He crossed to the fence then proceeded through his gate, stopping to make a quick repair. He followed the path he’d walked the night before to Karla’s farm.

  Beside the garage, a dead patch of grass outlined the spot his truck had occupied for the past three weeks.

  * * *

  Ray idled to the driveway, scanned the yard, and spotted the truck backed up beside the barn. He decided Karla had somehow moved it and packed his gear, helping him on his way. He parked behind the truck. The bed was empty, he’d been wrong about the packing.

  Karla came around the garage and he met her halfway.

  “The truck has a kill switch,” she said. “I traced the wires. I’ll show you.”

  “How’d it get set?”

  Karla shrugged. “Something hit it? Jessie said she hadn’t played in there.”

  She was pointing out the obvious. The switch had been activated after the truck had been parked.

  “Why take an interest, now?”

  “I called the mechanic to confirm. He’s dead. I thought I’d give your electrics a second opinion. Didn’t seem much to lose.”

  “You found it?”

  “You borrowed my meter. Do you think I have tools I can’t use?”

  “I thought it was your husband’s.”

  Karla smiled. “Sexist pig.”

  “You could have told me.”

  “Jessie said she offered my help and you didn’t want it.”

  Ray remembered Jessie’s, “Mommy can fix anything.” And his dismissal.

  “Thank you,” Ray said

  A truck rumbled to a stop in the road. Mitchell and three others with rifles climbed the gate. Ray had figured the men on the road had been sent to prevent his return to the farm. He had not expected them to show up here. He couldn’t guess what they planned and that set off alarms.

  Karla stomped toward the men, her anger evident. Ray followed reluctantly, a step behind. Both parties stopped on the driveway, ten feet between them.

  “What’s going on?” Karla sai
d. “Waving guns on my property isn’t what I’d call neighborly.”

  “We need to talk with your friend,” Mitchell said.

  “So talk,” Ray replied.

  “Not here. We need you to come with us.” Mitchell pointed his rifle at Ray. The others followed his lead. “Herb, take his gun.”

  Karla took a step to block Herb Chambers. “No one’s going anywhere till you tell me what this is about.”

  “Get out of the way, Karla. This doesn’t concern you,” Mitchell said.

  “Armed men kidnapping my guest doesn’t concern me?”

  “We’re arresting Ray.”

  “Who made you the law?” Ray asked.

  “Sheriff did when he said he wouldn’t patrol. Take his gun, Carl.”

  “You still haven’t said why.” Karla gave him the cold stare.

  “He shot Dwight.”

  “Yesterday, you said those other people did.”

  “Doc says he was shot by a rifle. None of them had one.”

  Ray shook his head. “No way that works. A hole has nothing but size. It can’t tell you what put it there.”

  “Doc says he’s sure.”

  “And he miraculously divined my name?”

  “Only you, Carl, and me were not with the group that got shot,” Mitchell answered.

  “This is bullshit,” Karla said. “Nineteen people dead at your hands, and you say Ray injured one of yours.”

  “We’ll hear him out.”

  “Where do you have in mind? The county courthouse?” Ray asked.

  “We can handle it.”

  “I suppose the governor made you judge and jury along with sheriff.”

  “We’re the law, what there is of it here.”

  Ray blew a long exhale. “Not by my way of seeing things.”

  Mitchell stepped closer, his rifle aimed at Ray’s chest “You make trouble, you’ll force our hand.”

  “Same result, here or there, I expect. Have you dug the grave yet?”

  “Do you want her and the girl to watch?” Mitchell asked.

  “What are you talking about?” Karla’s voice broke.

  “I don’t see him running a jail. Do you?” Ray asked.

 

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