“Come over here!” yelled Presley. “I wish to talk peacefully.”
The man, rather hesitantly walked toward Presley and, when he stood about ten paces away, he stopped abruptly.
“Do you wish to see another day?” Presley asked quietly.
“What?”
“Do you want to stay alive?” Presley repeated, a little louder, like he was bored, or tired. But there was a deadly ice in his voice.
“I do,” the man replied nervously. He was a skinny fella, in his early thirties, and by no means an incarnation of a criminal. He was probably instructed to come out by whoever was acting as their leader, a tactic used by rats who are known for sending their weakest and most ill to test the unknown and dangerous path. The poor chap wasn’t even pretending to be tough. Presley saw fear in his small, beady eyes.
“What did you do to the owners of the house?”
“Nothing. We did nothing to them.”
“They are all fine?”
“Yes! They’re fine. The man of the house is little bruised, being stubborn and not doing what Zack wanted him, but otherwise, they are ok. We know they have storage full of food and just wanted some of it. We are just so hungry, sir. But the man wouldn’t budge…”
“Why did you kill my man?”
“I have no idea, sir. It was Zak’s brother. They are both crazy, you know. None of us would do such a thing, but we had to go along, so they wouldn’t hurt us too.” Presley was little surprized with man’s readiness to deflect from his leader so easily. It must be fear, he thought.
“You and your associates will come out, hand over your weapons and leave these parts immediately. You are surrounded and have no chance of getting out alive other than by surrendering.”
“I don’t think Zack would agree with such a deal,” said the fellow with dread in his eyes.
“Then you all die.”
“What guarantees do we have?” the man asked. Based on the man’s mannerisms, Presley could tell that he wanted to believe him, but was not sure his leader would cooperate with such a blunt request.
“None. I am telling you that we’ll let you go if you and your companions do what I ask.”
“How do you mean to kill us and not harm the Catchinskys, you know—the people from the house? I don’t know what Zack will decide.”
“I don’t care about any of you, or those people you hold hostage. I don’t have much time, so you have to decide fast. But it would be nice if they came out of this unharmed, for I could use them. Let them be, drop your weapons and come out with your hands high up. And in that case, I would keep my word and let you go. If you hurt them, we shall hurt you. Go on now. You’ve got ten minutes.” Presley hopped that man’s fear was big enough not to call his bluff, but convince that Zack character they meant business should he decide to shoot anyone else.
After less than ten minutes all five of them walked out the house and laid down their guns. Presley’s men encircled them, waiting for his instructions.
“Which one of you is Zack?”
“I am.” A tall skinny guy, with an evil expression on his face stared at Presley; showing no signs of fear, only hatred; hatred towards everyone.
“Listen, Zack, for what you did to my friend and to those poor people in the house, and for what you are, I have no doubt I would be doing everyone a big favour if I killed you right here. But I am not like you; I’ll let you go. Now, I promise you, should I meet you again I shall not be so generous. So, you and your men are free to go, but I’m warning you not to come in our way for the second time.”
“You killed my brother, you bastards! And for that, you’re going to pay.” Zack leaped towards Presley with a knife in his hand, but he did not make it far enough. He stumbled over someone’s foot and fell on the ground, a couple men holding him tight, disabling him.
“I told you these guys are like the Pongos,” said Frank.
“Well, we’re not,” Presley said. He crouched in front of the thug, subdued by two of his men.
“Zack, do you really wish to die?”
“Go to hell!” replied Zack with anger in his voice.
“Ok, have it your way. Tie him up,” ordered Presley.
“Do you burn your dead?” he asked the rest of the prisoners. All four of them nodded.
“Ok, then. Take your dead friends and do what is necessary. Take those two dog cadavers, and burn them too. There is enough dry wood to take care of all of them. Once you finish, you leave here right away. Do not untie this fool until you are five miles away.” He turned to his men: “Frankie, choose a couple of guys to watch them do what they are told and then watch them leave. We are going to bury John. Rodney, you will go and bring our party over. We shall spend the next night, at least, in that barn, if the owner lets us.”
They buried John in a shallow grave in the far end of the yard. There was no special ceremony or eulogy. None of them were believers, and since the annihilation of almost the entire human race, no one was convinced that anything had to do with God any more anyway. They were sorry for what happened to their friend, but they’ve seen too much death to be mournful. They were constantly on the move; in most cases, they didn’t have time to grieve at all, or to even think, to rationalize the difference between death in the general sense and death of someone they knew. Those left living were more important.
They dug out a grave as fast as they could, lowered John’s body inside, and said goodbye. Sometimes they could not even do that, circumstances giving them no choice but to leave their deceased comrades to rot were they fell.
Only; after the main party arrived, before Jack’s body was covered with frozen dirt, there was one person who actually mourned his death, who could not come to terms with it so rationally. She was inconsolable. She loved him. So, John was lucky. In this forsaken world, he knew some love—such a rare thing indeed.
***
All that time, Mrs. Catchinsky did not dare to step out from the house. For her, Presley knew, one villain was simply replaced by another, and she did not believe these new strangers were any different than those who tortured her husband just an hour earlier. Presley found them inside the living room, where the man was laying on a sofa, covered with blankets. He was unconscious, and his wife was sitting beside him. She looked desperate and frightened. The light was gloomy and it was freezing cold in the house. Presley had his men bring some wood from the outside and made fire in the fireplace. Soon, the fire was cracking in the hearth and it became warmer. He then, instructed some of his men to fix the broken windows throughout the house. They busied themselves by putting pieces of plywood to replace the broken glass. The woman was in her late forties. She did not say a single word, and Presley did not force her into talking. He noticed that, although, frightened and bruised a little, she did not suffer from any other ailment. She looked remarkably healthy and well fed. That surprised him, since he could not imagine how somebody could look so nourished after years of famine. They were farmers all right, but there was no farming in, at least, the past two years, since the eruptions. So they do have a stock of hidden supplies, he thought.
“Don’t be afraid of us. We mean you no harm,” he said to the woman. “We only ask your permission to spend a couple days in your barn, until we are ready to continue our journey.”
The woman merely nodded in agreement.
“How’s your husband?” he asked.
“He’s badly beaten,” she said, her voice cracked.
“We have a doctor in our company. I’ll have him take a look when he arrives with the others.”
“Thank you.”
“Where are you coming from?” she asked, encouraged by his polite manner.
“We came from across the lake. We are going south,” he said.
“From across the lake? You mean to say that you crossed The Lake. On foot?” the woman asked incredulously.
“Yes, it’s frozen through and through,” he nodded.
“How many of you are there?”
“Thirty!” she exclaimed. “I can’t believe there could be so many people at one place. And where are they? Are there any women with you?”
“Yes there are. They are coming shortly. I’ve sent for them. We arrived from across the lake yesterday evening,” Presley said, “and we need a little time to recuperate and familiarize ourselves about these parts and what to expect. And then we’ll be on our way. Mrs. Catchinsky. There is a man in my company who will know what to ask and I just hope that you’ll be willing to provide him with all information he might require. His name is Professor Tagore.”
“Like the poet… Yes, yes, that’ll be fine… and that doctor of yours. Are you going to send him over?” the woman asked.
“Yes, as soon as they get here. Professor and the doctor will come together.”
***
“These people are preppers,” said Professor, once he came to the barn. “I suppose they have some kind of hidden shelter, underground of course, and storage worth several years of food and other supplies, necessary for survival. And, quite expectedly, they are not willing to share it with anyone. By the look of that man, the beating he endured, I dare say he was ready to stake his life to keep the secret. I wonder, though, what he would have done if those bums tried to coerce him by torturing his wife, instead of him.”
“Who knows? Probably our coming interfered with what would seem like a typical order of things.”
“Anyway, Mrs. Catchinsky told me all we need to know. There are not many people left in these parts, of what used to be eastern Carimea, just scattered enclaves of desperate survivors, happy they don’t have to fear Pongos anymore, for they, it’s almost certain, began to expire here too, even a little earlier than on our side of the Lake, and just for that, people are hopeful better days are coming; that the sun will shine once more, that the ice will start melting, and the plants will start growing again… All in all, there are maybe three to five million people left alive in all of continental States, and no more than fifteen million in the entire North Carimean Union.”
“How can you be so convinced?”
“Well, after all what happened, the last war, the famine, the epidemic and the eruptions… these parts were well organized for a while, the woman said; and they initially tried and succeeded in forming certain forms of self–governing. They shared responsibilities and information, so they knew a great deal about what was going on. Over time, the long darkness and conflicts with Pongos broke them into smaller and smaller enclaves and essentially desensitized them, until they lost all sense of community. After that, nothing much changed, so it must be almost the same now as it was a year and half ago.”
“Well, it is good to know that there’s not much left to fear,” Presley mused. “It simplifies our journey. We still have to be careful though; there could be more armed gangs around, like the one we met here. And Pongos, too… And, since our group is large, and I suspect, it’ll grow even larger, many will consider us a threat or competition, and probably, from time to time, we will be forced to defend ourselves.”
“Yes, yes… But, in general, I dare say that we can expect a safe trip down South.”
“How are the woman and her husband now?”
“He’s still unconscious, and the woman is holding it together quite well. Their kids are a little distressed, but the doctor told them not to worry. Their dad will be fine.”
“Their kids? They have children?”
“Yes. You didn’t notice?”
“No! I only saw the woman and her husband. Where the heck did the kids come from?”
“They were probably hiding in the underground shelter. Their daughter, a very young woman of maybe nineteen, and two boys, the older could be fourteen and the youngest about ten.”
“God, they were lucky. If that scum Zack knew that, I don’t know what would have happened.”
***
They collected several tin barrels from the yard and converted them into stoves, allowing them to burn fire and heat large pots of water by melting chunks of ice brought in from the outside. They used wood panels to construct a bathroom in the far right corner of the barn. A barrel was placed on a top pedestal and constantly filled with warm water from above, and let running through a pipe attached to it at the lower end; and, taking turns, they all, women first and men after, washed themselves off. Afterward, they washed their clothes; the men cleaned their weapons; and the women made a stew dinner. By day’s end, the atmosphere was festive and almost filled, if not with joy, then at least, with a feeling of high expectation that something good awaited them down their path. Among them, there were a couple of guitars and harps, a fiddle, and a few people with pleasant voices, who joined together, to play and sing good old folk songs. They even had some brandy in their most secret supplies, which helped lighten the mood even more.
Presley did not have much talent for music, but he enjoyed listening to a good song. He admired the spontaneity of his companions and their talent for improvising. He saw it as a strength that could make things possible.
He noticed Hope among those who were playing and singing. She played a fiddle and sang along. It seemed to him that although she was physically present, she was far away in thought, happy and pleased with life. She was dressed in a light summer dress, like the rest of the women; and likewise, the men wore only their shirts, for it was warm in the barn and they did not need all those layers of clothing. She was quite beautiful under the light of petroleum lamps. She had a nice voice and sang beautifully. Presley was enchanted by the melody of the old folk song, and by their voices, and in that moment, nothing else mattered or existed. As they neared the end of the song, Hope opened her eyes, searching through the dim light, and the shadows it cast, and met his eyes as they recited the last verse of the song. Their eyes locked for a moment and Presley felt heavy and light at same time.
“It may be raining, but there’s a rainbow above you,
You better let somebody love you…
Before it’s too late…”
The song was over, and the crowd in their delight cheered and clapped, asking for more. Hope and Presley’s eyes were still interlocked and, it was then that he knew the next time he found himself alone with her, he would not hesitate to take her into his arms and hold her. He saw in her eyes that she understood his thoughts and knew her feelings were the same. He felt her trembles across the room and yearned to be close to her.
But then, he remembered he was a leader; he had responsibilities and it would be unwise to be side tracked by a love affair. He knew he should think his feelings through, in order to make a rational decision, and so, he dropped his gaze. He needed some guidance, but hated the idea of having to seek anyone’s advice on the matter. All the while, he failed to notice Professor’s sympathetic smile. Presley did not realize that in such a close–knit community, like the one they had, there were no secrets that could be kept unearthed. Most of the time, everyone knew everyone’s business, even before those who tried to keep their feelings to themselves realized it. Neither Presley nor Hope noticed that everyone already gathered there was something going on between them. Their fellow comrades knew they were in love even before they knew it themselves. This was the reason for Professor’s smile…
“Hey chief, there is somebody who would like to speak with you,” a man said, coming from the outside.
“Who,” asked Presley?
“Two of those schmucks that kept the Catchiness’s hostage”
“Bring them over.”
The man went out, and a minute later he brought the two fellows in front of Presley.
“What do you want,” he asked, recognizing one of them, the tiny guy sent to negotiate. Presley was not surprised to see him.
“We would like to join you, if you’d have us,” he replied nervously.
“Why?”
The man was silent for a moment.
“We are tired of being desperate and afraid all the
time.”
Presley looked at them, trying to determine if they were being honest.
“What is your name?”
“My name is Peter, and this is my neighbour Stanley,” the fellow said.
“People who are capable of torturing and robbing others are not welcome in our group. Why should I believe that you would not keep to your old ways?”
“We were forced to tolerate and participate in such doings by Zack and his brother. We were with Zack only because we grew up together and were always under his spell. They were always crazy, sir, Zack and his brother that is. We feared they’d kill us if we tried to oppose or disagree with them. But we were never like them. No, sir, we just felt we had no other choice, until today, you see. And before today, they never went as far in their doings… killing your friend, torturing that family. After this, even if we did not meet you, we would leave them… We are not violent men…”
“What do you think, Professor,” he turned to Tagore.
Professor Tagore was observing the two newcomers. He was always eager to see their group grow, seeing only benefits from their increasing numbers. But he was also a good judge of character and he seldom made mistakes.
“Take a look around you,” he said to the strangers. They did as they were told.
“What do you see,” Professor asked.
“I see order, sir,” the other man said. “I see cohesion, bond, and strength. I see hope,” he concluded.
“Good! Good… And what can you offer?”
“Well… we have nothing but these clothes on our backs. However, we are willing to do whatever…”
“I know you have nothing. That is not what I am asking. I ask what do you know. What do you do?”
“We were brought up on a farm, been farm boys all our life, I mean, before everything happened…”
“Good! ‘Farm boys’ is good. We’ll need farm boys.”
“All right,” said Presley. “There is a shower in the corner. Jake, take them there. Find some clothes and boots if they need them, let them wash themselves, and give them something to eat. Burn your rags, once you shed them your backs.”
Transients Page 6