by Chris Pike
Ryan stepped closer to Garrett. “Would it be possible for you to drive us a little further, closer to Hemphill?”
“That’s only a few miles across the state line, right?”
“Yes.”
“I suppose so.” Garrett scratched the side of his head. “What’s in Hemphill?”
“I know someone who can help us.”
“Who?”
Ryan shook his head. “I only know the name. Probably nobody you know. My parents told me that if I ever needed help I could count on them.”
Garrett shrugged. “I wish you luck with that.”
“I appreciate that you’re helping us,” Ryan said. “When this EMP thing is over—”
“Son,” Garrett interrupted, “it’s never going to be over. Things will never get back to the way they were. From what I’ve read, this is only the beginning. Society is about to change. You don’t need to worry, you don’t owe me anything. It’s been a real honor to be able to help out the daughter of the man who is prosecuting Cole Cassel.”
“I’m sorry about what happened to your son.”
“I know. Sometimes I wish me and my wife had had a bunch of kids. She wasn’t able to.” Garrett got a faraway look in his eyes. “Thankfully I still have my grandson and my daughter-in-law.” He paused, then looked pointedly at Ryan. “Why are you helping Cassie? You could have parted ways and told her good luck. What stopped you?”
“I promised Cassie I’d take her back to Houston where her dad is. She’s counting on me, and I always keep my promises. Besides, I’m hoping when we get to Hemphill, we can rest and get more supplies.”
“You could stay here. The offer is open if you change your mind.”
“You’ve already done enough for us. We’ve got a change of clothes, our bellies are full, and…you saved our lives.”
“And you saved my dog. My son’s dog.” Changing the subject, he said, “I don’t mean to pry, but how long have you known Cassie?”
“We met on the airplane.”
“You like that girl, don’t you?”
“I do. I wish I could have met her under different circumstances, but I can tell you that I’ve learned a lot about her over these past few days. She’s got grit, that’s for sure. She’s smart, and I know she’s worried about her father. She said her father must be going out of his mind worrying about her.”
“A parent never stops worrying about their kids, even if they’re grown. What about your parents, Ryan? I haven’t heard you talk about them.”
“They are deceased. They were old when I was adopted. They were adamant about me going to Hemphill if I ever got into trouble.”
“Hmm.” Garrett rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Where are your birth parents from? You don’t suppose—”
“—that they are from Hemphill?”
“Right.”
“I have no clue. I asked to see my birth certificate, but it had been tampered with. I don’t know who my birth parents are.”
“Sorry to hear that. A man needs to know where he is from. What stock he descends from. But knowing you for only a little while, and seeing how you saved Gumbo, you’ll do fine, son. Be true to yourself, the Almighty, family, and stick close to Cassie. I like her too. And carry a big gun. Remember: faith, family, and—”
“—firearms. I remember.”
* * *
After Garrett got the truck running, he drove Cassie, Ryan, and James into town.
Cassie was sandwiched between Garrett and Ryan, while James rode in the back. The cramped cab didn’t afford any extra leg or shoulder room and it was impossible not to touch Ryan. At first it felt weird with their legs touching, but as time passed, Cassie grew more comfortable. She was sure he must be feeling the same because when his hand landed on her thigh, he didn’t immediately remove it.
“Sorry,” he said.
“Don’t worry about it,” Cassie replied.
Driving along the back roads, the number of abandoned cars only reinforced the theory of an EMP attack. They only saw one other car on the road, a 1960s aqua blue Thunderbird with a recent paint job that was as shiny as a brand-spanking new car.
Garrett’s truck might as well been stitched together by Frankenstein using parts found at an abandoned dump. Regardless, it ran, and when the Thunderbird passed, Garrett gave a nonchalant wave of his hand to the other driver. They both gave each other a deer in the headlights look as if they’d never seen a working car before.
“I’ll stop by the local dry goods store that has clothes and some camping equipment. I think you’ll need it on the road,” Garrett said. “I’ll see if there are any guns for sale. I can probably get you across the border and close to where you need to go, but I’ll have to allow time to get back before it gets dark. It wouldn’t be good to be alone after dark.” Garrett glanced at Ryan. “People would kill for this truck.”
“Garrett, I want you to know how thankful we are that you helped us,” Cassie said. “I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”
“The only payment I want is for you to get home safe. You stay with Ryan and James. They’re good men, I can tell.”
When Garrett drove into town, people gawked at the truck. A man ran out into the street and tried to flag them down, but Garrett sped away.
“What do you think he wanted?” Ryan asked. He looked back at the man who could only watch dejectedly as the truck rounded a corner, out of sight.
“Right now this old piece of junk would go for a million dollars.” Garrett said. “But if someone wants it bad enough, they’ll kill me and take it.”
Garrett drove to the town square where the bank was located, along with the sundry tourist shops, the main café, a hardware store, a liquor store, and the dry goods store. The amount of broken windows was worrisome. Several stores had been looted, shelves knocked over, and Cassie gasped when a looter nonchalantly walked out of the hardware store carrying several bags.
“If looting is taking place this soon after the EMP in a country town like this, I can’t imagine what it’s like in a big city,” Garrett said. He swung the truck into a parking space. Reaching under the seat, he retrieved a crowbar and handed it to Ryan. “If anyone tries to take it, you show this to them. Understand?”
“Yes,” Ryan said.
“You have one for me?” Cassie asked. “I feel kinda naked without a weapon.” She poked Ryan in the side.
“If I did, I’d give you one,” Garrett said. He didn’t catch the underlying meaning of Cassie’s statement, but Ryan did. “I’ll only be a few minutes.”
Exiting the truck, Garrett let his eyes roam over the store, checking for any movement.
“See anybody in there?” Cassie asked.
“No, but since it’s the only store that hasn’t been broken into yet, I’m guessing Bob is in there ready to pump lead into anyone who tries.”
“Be careful,” Cassie urged.
“Don’t worry, me and Bob go way back. Way longer than I care to remember.”
“How are you going to pay him?” Ryan asked. “I don’t have any money.”
“Not needed. Like I said, you saved my dog, and Cassie here is Dillon’s daughter.”
“On second thought,” Ryan said, “I’ll check out the store with you.”
“Me too,” Cassie chimed in.
“And me,” James said. “Think the truck will be okay?”
Garrett patted his pocket. “Yes. I’ve got the keys.”
* * *
Garrett went to the store front, knocked on the door, and waited.
Bob, the store owner, unlocked the door. “Hi, Garrett, how are you?” he asked.
“Good. Thanks for letting us in,” Garrett said. “I had an idea you’d be here.”
“Me and Smith and Wesson,” Bob said. He opened up one side of his vest.”
Garrett nodded his approval. “We don’t have much time. These folks need to be outfitted for survival equipment.”
“Come in, come in,” Bob urged. “You’re
at the right place.”
Garrett and the rest strode into the store. Bob shut and locked the door, but in his haste didn’t realize the lock didn’t engage. “It’s good to see a familiar face,” he said. “I’ve been camping out for several days after looters got the store next to me. People are desperate.”
“I know,” Garrett said.
“Help yourself. I’ll be at the counter if you need anything.”
The ragged bunch perused the store selecting items they needed such as waterproof matches, a magnesium firestarter, nesting cook pot set, Nalgene bottle, LifeStraw, a knife, campware and plates, freeze dried meals, flashlights and batteries, a compass, and a map. Ryan also grabbed a tarp, mosquito repellant, duct tape, and paracord. In a pinch, he could tie the paracord around trees and drape the tarp over it for a quick shelter.
The group quickly grabbed bottled water, a change of clothes each, and eyeballed the boots. On the way to the dressing room, Cassie snatched a pack of baby wipes for future use.
Ten minutes later, Garrett walked into the dressing room where Cassie, Ryan, and James were trying on their new clothes.
“Y’all suited up?”
“I’ll be ready in a minute,” Cassie said.
“Get what you need ‘cause we’re leavin’ in five minutes. I’m going to grab a Ruger 10-22 and several boxes of ammo. I’ll get Cassie something that will fit her hands. Meet me out front in five minutes.” Garrett clapped his hands twice in quick succession. “Get on it. I’m going to settle the bill.”
James had already packed his backpack and had hurried through the swinging doors with Garrett, leaving Cassie and Ryan alone.
“I feel better already,” Ryan said. “We’re so lucky to have stumbled upon him.”
“I know,” Cassie said. “Having a bath and clean clothes makes a girl feel good.” Cassie leaned up against a wall in the dressing room. Days of walking and lack of sleep had finally caught up with her. “I’m ready to be home.”
“I know you are,” Ryan said. “Only a few more days and we’ll be there.” He looped the new backpack through his arms and heaved it over his back. “I’ll get you to your dad. I promise.” He reached up to Cassie’s face and brushed an errant hair away.
For a moment Cassie held his gaze, acutely aware of how close he was to her.
It was muggy in the dressing room from the lack of AC, that and the fact she had on long pants caused the heat in her cheeks to rise. Garrett’s and James’ muffled voices carried along the racks of clothes and sundry camping equipment. She closed her eyes, her thoughts taking her back to behind the pump house at Garrett’s house. A grin broke across her face. She’d caught Ryan staring at her as she stood naked, bathing. If only it was a different time, a different place, they might—
A volley of bullets struck the store, splintering wood and ricocheting off metal.
Garrett swiveled around, searching for the intruder. He crouched and returned fire.
Bob ducked behind the cash register and returned fire.
Ryan threw Cassie to the ground. He shrugged off his backpack, unzipped it, and felt around for the rock hammer he had packed at the last minute. One end was blunt like a regular hammer, the other side a sharpened pick that could smash the hardest granite.
“Cassie, hide,” he ordered.
“Where?” Cassie whispered. “There’s no way out of here.”
“Then stay behind me.”
“What are you doing?”
“Shhh!”
Ryan crawled on his hands and knees to the swinging doors leading out into the store. He lowered his head to the floor and peeked around the doors trying to see who was shooting at them. Another volley of bullets peppered the store and he instinctively flinched and withdrew.
It was quiet for a few moments until heavy footfalls upon the floor pounded closer to the dressing room.
Rising, Ryan held the rock hammer above his head, keeping a firm grip on the rubber handle, the steel end pointed outward.
The doors burst open and a man burst through. He stopped when he saw Cassie.
Flush up against the wall, Ryan took only a second to gauge that this man meant trouble. The wild-eyed desperate man pointed the rifle directly at Cassie.
Using all his strength, Ryan slammed the rock hammer into the back of the man’s skull, crushing it with a wicked blow. A burst of gunfire peppered the wall above Cassie. She ducked and covered her head.
The man stumbled backward, dazed at the blow. Still he refused to fall. He fumbled with the rifle, readying it to shoot.
Ryan held up the rock hammer as if he was a major leaguer preparing to swing a bat to hit a homerun. Rushing the man, he heaved the hammer at the man’s skull and pummeled his brain.
The man grunted at the force of bone breaking and splintering. He crumpled to the floor, yet refused to relinquish his rifle.
Ryan repeatedly struck him with the hammer, and when the point broke, Ryan flipped it over and pummeled him with the flat side.
The rifle fell out of the man’s hand onto the floor and Ryan kicked it away.
Finally the man lay still.
Ryan stepped back and leaned against a wall. Sweat beaded his forehead and he brushed it away with the back of his hand. His heart was beating at breakneck speed, and he breathed fast and hard.
Cassie’s eyes were wide and she trembled, holding on the rifle so hard her knuckles were white. She had the rifle butt secured against her shoulder, left hand on the stock, index finger ready to shoot if necessary.
“All I do is pull the trigger, right?” Her voice was shaky.
Ryan swallowed hard and let out a big breath. “Yeah,” he said. “I think he’s dead, so you’re good.”
“What do I do?”
“Stay there a moment while I get my wits about myself.”
Garrett burst into the dressing room and took a quick sweep of the close quarters. Cassie sat huddled in the corner, holding the rifle. Ryan was leaning up against the wall, his fingers clutched tightly around the rock hammer. His shirt was splattered with blood.
“Is anybody shot?” His question was met with blank stares. His gaze swiveled from Cassie to Ryan. He raised his voice and repeated with definite anxiety, “Is anybody shot?”
“No. We’re okay. He’s not, though.” Ryan pointed to the dead man on the floor.
“Sure about that?”
“Sure as the sun rises in the morning.”
Taking a glance at Ryan’s bloody shirt, Garrett said, “Grab a new shirt and let’s get out of here.”
“What about you?” Cassie asked. She motioned to his arm. “You’re bleeding.”
“It’s nothing. A scrape. Don’t worry about it.” His words were stunted and breathless. “Let’s go. Now!” Garrett hooked an arm under Cassie and lifted her up. He quickly pivoted and went to the dead man, rummaging through the dead man’s pockets. Finding an extra clip, he tossed it to Cassie. “You’ll need this.”
On the way out of the store, Ryan grabbed a clean shirt. The three sprinted to the old truck, scrambled in, Garrett in the driver’s seat, Cassie and Ryan next to him.
“Wait!” Cassie shouted. “We forgot James.”
“No we didn’t,” Garrett said. He put the truck in gear, revved the engine, and peeled out, spraying the sidewalk with rocks and pebbles. The truck fish-tailed as it gained traction.
“James is dead?” Cassie squeaked. She glanced back at the store. “You’re leaving him there?”
“Miss,” Garrett said exasperated, “We got shot at, your boyfriend—”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
“—saved your pretty little ass by clubbing that man to death. If he hadn’t been there to save you, you’d probably be spread out dead on the floor.” Garrett checked the review mirror in case anyone was following them. Garrett swung the truck to the left and cut across the median, dodging stalled cars.
“I still can’t believe you left him there. He helped us. He fixed your truck, so withou
t him, we’d still be back at your house.”
Ryan put a hand on Cassie’s arm. “Don’t,” he whispered. “Let it go.”
“I may be old,” Garrett said gruffly, “but my hearing still works. Missy, once a person is dead there’s nothing else you can do for them. Funerals are for the living, not the dead. The dead don’t care what happens to their body. They’re gone. Forever. What’d you want me to do? Take him to the local funeral parlor so his blood can be drained, replaced by formaldehyde or whatever unnatural liquid they use to preserve a body, and have him stuffed in some rickety coffin? This is the new way of life, so you’d better get used to it.”
“What happened to Bob?” Cassie asked.
“He’s okay. I’ll drive you and Ryan as far as I can, and I’ll come back and check on Bob. Satisfied?”
Cassie said nothing, realizing this new world was more terrifying than anything she had ever experienced.
Chapter 15
“Chandler, how did Cole Cassel take over the county so quickly?” Dillon asked after they had ridden for some time in silence.
Chandler quickly caught up with Dillon and Holly. “Talk was he killed the sheriff, stole his guns, and single-handedly took over the sheriff’s office. There were two deputies he somehow convinced to be part of the new law.
“I was in town when he called a meeting on the town square where he laid out the way things were going to be. He was already backed up by the two deputies, along with about ten local ranchers who had already been accosted by travelers. Cole said he would close the county and not let anybody in unless they could prove they lived here. If anyone wanted to pass through, they had to pay a hefty toll.
“I heard a couple of his groupies tried to collect tolls from residents of the county, but that didn’t go over too well.”
Dillon recalled the run-in he had with one of Cole’s earlier deputies when he rode Cowboy into town when he needed antibiotics for Holly. Better to let sleeping dogs lie. Better yet, let dead men stay dead where they had been rolled into a ditch.
Trees swayed and long grass waved as if trying to outrun the storm. Dark and ominous thunderclouds billowed into the late afternoon sky. A crack of lightning followed by rumbling thunder rolled across the land. A sprinkling of rain fell, then droplets as big as silver dollars fell upon the riders.