There Where the Power Lies (Monster of the Apocalypse Saga Book 2)

by C. Martens

  The highway sides were so overgrown with the detritus of humanity that Emmett turned his horse’s head toward what he hoped would be greener pastures. Instead of north through Salem, they angled west and north toward Corvallis. In the end there was little difference. Even highway 99 had been overtaken with population and everything that brought.

  What Brody had said about robots interested Emmett. He remembered what Andy had said about the robot, Abdiel, and wondered if the plan Andy had spoken of was still in play. Thinking beyond the obvious, Emmett imagined that someone had been taken by surprise. Otherwise, why would there have been three plagues?

  Intending to check out the Portland Zoo, Emmett laid a route.

  The two riders began to neglect their self-inflicted obligations to open fences. They continued to cut fences when there were few, but otherwise they passed most by. The practice had gotten tedious. There were just too many fences and too many dead anyway.

  One of the high priorities was finding a string of horses for Randy. Well, at least two. The pinto was more pack animal than they required for both of them. In the roughly one hundred miles before the larger city, surely they would find suitable mounts.

  Finding horses was more difficult than expected. The countryside was urbanized, and they arrived at the zoo with no additions.

  The place was empty other than sparrows and rodents indigenous to the area. There was no sign of mechanical creatures. Emmett was disappointed.

  As they travelled, they kept their eyes open for other people but had no luck. The one time they found a sign suggesting that someone might be around, they could not find anyone.

  The feral dog problem was diminishing. They assumed rightly that the numbers were tanking. This new world was not kind to animals that were not intended to survive on their own.

  The two riders held a powwow in a house with a big fireplace just before they crossed the bridge into Washington State. With the weather getting colder every day, the flames felt good as they roasted hot dogs.

  They decided to continue to Whidbey but on the Olympic peninsula side of the Puget Sound. The constant reminders around human structures were too depressing. Besides, they figured the coast would probably be warmer.

  Highway 4 joined 101 by Willapa Bay, so they headed west.

  Both Emmett and Randy were happy in the arrangement. They liked each other, and each carried their own weight.

  Randy used Emmett’s “borrowed” library pad and read up on equine care, studying the subject thoroughly.

  Randy was prone to politicizing things. One of her biases resulted in promoting feminism against reason, and her position manifested in a decision that she ended up regretting.

  In Grays River, before they hit the coast, they ran into a couple of mares. Anxious to fill her needs and give the gelding back to Emmett, she viewed them as replacements. By this time Randy was fully aware of the preference toward geldings as better rides, but the downloaded book had been written by a man, and she dismissed the conclusion as biased. Surely females were every bit as capable as males. Consultation with Emmett led her to conclude that he was biased as well. She saddled the white with black flecks and haltered the roan, and she determined to prove Emmett and the book’s author wrong. The Grays River mares joined the group.

  Within a few days both females went into heat. The geldings were well trained, but even without their testicles, hormones coursed through them. The mares set them off. The geldings tried to crowd the mares whenever they could and got nasty with each other when one of them impeded the approach of another. Surprisingly, Joe was the worst. The little pinto tried to persuade the girls that he was “the man.”

  The mares became difficult, too. They presented themselves butt first to the geldings if not controlled with authority. After much nonsense, Randy ended up riding far behind Emmett. She started to look at pastures closely in the intention of swapping out her girls. Difficult because of having a concept that an animal acquired was an animal owned for life, Randy had to reevaluate a belief held since childhood.

  Eventually, close to Aberdeen, the mares were released on the beach, and a couple of cut male ponies replaced them, a solid black and a chestnut. The experience pissed Randy off, but she now understood something that she had not.

  The silent treatment lasted for a couple of days.

  As the pair came into Aberdeen, they started to have a run on human contact.

  As they passed by a shop with two large roll up doors intended for large vehicles, one suddenly rose. The unusual noise was loud, sudden, and spooked the horses. As they milled about nervously, a large truck emerged in reverse. The vehicle driver was not visible. Aiming the truck at a parking spot alongside the front of the shop, it shut down after being positioned carefully. A man climbed out and down, ignoring the riders and their horses. Appearing to be busy at work, he reentered the shop and reached to close the big door.

  “Hey!” yelled Emmett, trying to get his attention, and the young man suddenly seemed to wake up. He looked for the first time directly at them.

  Both riders dismounted and led their horses toward him. He waited, his hands still on the rope he used to close the door.

  Long-haired and goateed, the kid proved to be soft spoken and very polite. But he seemed off. He was agitated as they tried to make conversation as though he had other things to do. Finally, Randy asked him if he was in a hurry.

  “Well, I got lots ta do. I do.” He looked at the ground as though ashamed to admit it. “I gotta get som’ore o’these rigs done.”

  “What for?” asked Randy.

  The kid looked at her like she was an alien.

  “Cause people need’um. They gotta be clean. Otherwise they don’t look professional.”

  He hesitated and looked closely at Randy. Then he looked at Emmett.

  “You don’t know that?” he asked.

  They had learned what they needed from the goateed young man, and they gave each other a look. Saying their goodbyes and “nice ta meetcha’s,” they parted company.

  As they rode out of town they discussed the kid. He was nice. At first each had considered inviting him to join them, but the young man was a local and attached to the town. And apparently events had gotten to him. In the end, neither made the offer.

  Neither of them noticed the surveillance drone parked on the roof of the kid’s shop. And they could not have known of the invasive tentacles that had attached themselves to the building’s security system.

  Later that day a couple of people in a small truck passed too close to them, blowing their horn. The bay, being closest and startled, reared up, and if the driver had not swerved, he might have planted his hooves in the hood. It would have been disastrous.

  The vehicle continued on until it started the turn where it would go out of sight, and then it screeched to a halt. The passenger got out with a rifle.

  After the near miss, Emmett had dismounted to calm the baldy. When the truck slowed he reached for his saddle gun, the lever action rifle that he had found in Coos Bay. Before the kid getting out of the right side of the truck could draw a bead or even raise his weapon, Emmett placed a hole in the rear window of the truck close to the driver’s head, exiting through the windshield at an angle. The driver decided to leave and was not overly concerned with his companion. The kid with the rifle had to grab the truck and hang on, and he lost the grip on the gun. It clattered to the asphalt as the little truck rounded the corner and disappeared.

  Randy handed Emmett the lead rope for the black and rode the chestnut to where the rifle lay. She jumped off and picked it up, inspecting it. Deciding it was of little use, she wheeled it underarm off the road as far as she could. It spun in the air and landed in some manzanita.

  “Well, that might have gotten ugly.” She said on return.

  Still scared and pumping adrenaline, Emmett responded, “It’s probably what we should expect. So far I figure we’ve been pretty lucky.”

  With a frown line creasing her fo
rehead, Randy nodded. “Yeah, I suppose. The people we’ve seen are probably some of the good ones.”

  They looked at each other, communicating with their eyes in the direct way Randy had brought to the relationship. She could see the young man, her partner in pursuit of a normalcy that would never reappear, was afraid but determined. She could count on him.

  Emmett could see the strength and calm in Randy. Her courage bolstered him.

  §

  By the time they reached the cutoff to Hoodsport at the south end of the Sound, they had seen three more people and suspected they might have been close to more.

  A teenage kid in McCleary almost ran into them. As they rounded a corner, taking it tight, the boy zoomed past as though being chased. He kept going even as he stumbled and almost fell in his efforts to avoid the horses. Supposing the kid might be running from dogs, Emmett drew his pistol and searched the street. Trying to get the kid to stop, Randy shouted. The kid ignored her and continued running until he disappeared from sight.

  Passing through Shelton, a man came out of a house and stood watching them with a rifle. Inside the house, a curtain moved. The man inspected Randy in a way that made her uncomfortable. She wondered who was inside and under what circumstances, and she started to edge her pony closer with the intention of finding out. The rifle changed from being across his chest to pointing directly at her. The curtain moved again, forcefully, but nothing was revealed.

  “Move along, girl.” The man’s voice was harsh and certain. “You don’t need anything here, and I don’t need you either.”

  Pulling up alongside, Emmett reached out and laid his hand on Randy’s arm. She glanced back.

  “Not the time, Randy.” He looked serious.

  She hesitated as she looked back, and she regretted her decision even as she made it. Without any clear proof of wrongdoing, there was no reason to jeopardize anyone’s safety. She looked back at the man with the gun.

  “Fine, mister. Just do what’s right.”

  The guy grinned, and she reined her black sharply to head down the street.

  She would feel bad about leaving for some time.

  The next person they saw was a woman with her head under the hood of a car. She was jiggling wires and cursing enough to make a sailor blush. Hearing them approach, she turned around and parked her butt against the grill, arms folded across her chest.

  The riders came to a halt and inspected the situation.

  “Well, have you got any fucking ideas?” The woman enunciated the words clearly and slowly, glaring at them.

  Randy started to laugh.

  The woman’s face clouded in dark anger. She made as if to rise from her position, and Emmett was sure there was going to be a conflict. Just as quickly as the woman’s face clouded, it cleared. She began to laugh as well.

  Looking back and forth between the two ladies, Emmett failed to understand. He thought it must be a woman thing.

  They laughed until tears rolled down their cheeks. By the time their cheeks were wet, Randy had dismounted, and the two women were locked in a hug. They broke away, looked at each other, and started to laugh again as they returned to the embrace.

  Though not getting the joke, Emmett could not help laughing, too. The women were crazy, and if nothing else their reaction was hilarious.

  Finally, they backed off and wiped their eyes, trying to catch their breath. It had been a good and necessary release of emotion.

  “So, I guess you need a mechanic.” Emmett stated the obvious.

  “No shit, Sherlock.” The car driver perused him for the first time. “Or a tow. You got any of those in your hip pocket?”

  Emmett dismounted and dropped the reins. The ponies edged to the side of the road and started to crop what they could find.

  He looked down at the contents under the hood.

  “Nope, but we could tie a rope on something underneath and get you off the road.” He looked up along the direction of her travel. “I don’t see what the point is, though…”

  The two women laughed until they dropped on their knees to the ground. Randy fell to her side and rolled, clutching her sides. As Emmett stood looking at them, they just laughed harder.

  §

  There was a blind woman, elderly and alone, living outside the town the riders had just come through. The stranded driver was on her way with supplies.

  She had found the woman and her guide dog walking in the tiny community of Quilcene. The woman was staying with relatives during the plague event, and when they died she closed the door on the bedroom and was living in the stench. The younger woman took her back to her own home, the woman insisting that she was self-sufficient and well prepared to take care of herself, as long as she was in her own apartment in McCleary. The woman with the car explained that there were no people around to help and suggested she would need food. The old woman did not seem capable of understanding fully, or maybe she was just used to people assisting her without her knowledge. Stating her independence with vehemence, she had no problem demanding that the woman presently helping should deliver groceries weekly. A crusty character with a sharp tongue, the demand made the decision easy. The sighted woman left her with a bag of canned goods.

  Intending to stay for a few days the next week, she arrived again with supplies. She was met with anger that she had not put the cans in the cupboards. Instructed in the procedure, she learned where things went and emptied the bag.

  The retriever with the harness licked her hand in appreciation, but the old woman acted like her benefactor was a servant unworthy of any respect.

  She did not spend the night, much less the several days that she might have.

  Emmett was thinking that they needed a car, or the stranded driver needed to ride. He offered the saddled dun, but she refused and sidled up to the horse that Randy was leading, the black. Gripping the pony’s mane at the withers, she swung her leg back and up and mounted like a pro. As she introduced herself to the horse and to Emmett and Randy, she left the packing of the canned goods from the car to Emmett. The load was the heaviest the pony had carried but still light.

  Keylee was dark haired and blue eyed. Her hair showed a red tint when it caught the light and hung to the bottom of her shoulder blades. Appearing to be recently cut with a knife, it was uneven and choppy. She was smaller than Randy, and thinner, probably mid-twenties. A tom boy, she wore denim jeans, tight in the butt and loose on the legs, and thongs, all topped by a comfortable green shirt and a grey hoodie. Other than the thongs, she seemed to share a fashion sense with Randy.

  As Emmett swung into his saddle, Keylee folded one foot up over the horse’s withers, one after the other, and removed the thongs. She stuck them inside her jacket and would apparently ride barefoot in the cold. She seemed to think nothing of it.

  They did not spend much time with the blind woman. She was abusive to each of them, but the dog was wonderful. They all felt sorry for it.

  As long as the woman stayed indoors, she should be fine. There was a courtyard to walk the dog with evidence that she did.

  Once they unloaded the groceries as commanded into the cupboards, asking many questions and paying the price, it was too late to travel any further. They bunked in an empty apartment after checking for vacancies at the manager’s office, keys hung on a rack of apartment numbers.

  The newcomer asked about Emmett and Randy’s route and destination. Finding out that the two were planning to go north on the west side of the Sound, she was delighted and offered them a place to stay in Quilcene on their way through. When they mentioned Whidbey Island she offered the idea that it might be difficult to get to with the horses and maybe not a good idea anyway. The desire for an early start in the morning gave them an excuse to bed down earlier than usual. Even though they enjoyed the time together, they were not used to talking so much.

  Emmett and Randy were glad to accept her invitation for the moment. They were ready for some new conversation, and the young woman was attractive and enga
ging.

  The ride proved uneventful, other than making an acquisition on the way. Emmett pointed out a small, double cab pick-up soon after leaving town. After abandoning her defunct car, Keylee might want a replacement. The dark red pick-up would haul a load and could seat all of them. Keylee seemed reluctant, but once Randy jumped down and approached to look inside it, she acquiesced. They found the keys on a hook by the door leading to the carport. The truck had a full charge, and the slight woman had a new vehicle. She drove ahead, telling them to watch for the truck in Quilcene.

  The duo put the spurs to their mounts and made better time than they had so far. With only one layover, they managed to arrive late the next day.

  On the outskirts of the tiny town, the vehicle sat next to a long, overgrown lane with fresh tracks leading in. The ponies seemed eager to explore. They were always glad to get off the hard roads.

  A big, yellow dog announced them and seemed none too friendly. He looked like a rangy lab but was obviously a mutt.

  Keylee emerged from her porch, all smiles, with a dish towel drying her hands. Shushing the dog, which obeyed but seemed reluctant to do so, she urged them to dismount and inspect the accommodations. Emmett got down and cautiously made his way to the house. He did not trust the dog, and it looked like the dog did not trust him. Joining him in throwing the reins to the earth, Randy expected the horses to understand they were to stay ground hitched. She strode right in, ignoring the grumbling cur.

  The cabin was old and had settled. There might not have been a straight line in it. The porch roof and above had an accumulation of dripping leaves and moss covering much of it. There was a chimney, smoking in a lazy effort, and rustic furniture crowding the overhang. Golden light issued from the windows in the late afternoon.

  The exterior belied what they found inside. The living area was comfy and warm with a rich scent emanating from a pot on the stove. A fresh, homemade pie sat cooling. A sign over the stove said, “When in doubt, Organize.”