by Karen Randau
As I entered the driveway, an attendant holding yellow traffic cones waited for me to enter, then placed his cones across the driveway.
I was the last person allowed in. Four of the six pumps had plastic bags on the handles. At a working pump, I waited for an elderly man to drive away, then claimed his space. As the gas flowed, I watched the attendant place a saw horse behind the traffic cones. He draped a sign across it: “Out of gas.”
My pump stopped before the tank was full. I pressed the handle, but no more gas came out.
My phone buzzed. Caller ID said it was Katy. I tried to sound unconcerned. “Good morning.”
“I made several healthy casseroles for you, but the news says the highway is closed.”
“We’re out of food, water, and gas. They’re setting up distribution centers. Cliff told me how to get around the roadblocks, but your car won’t make it. It would be smart for me to leave town, but I can’t go without Cliff and Travis. I must prepare for a long stay.”
“How can this be happening? In America!”
“That scares me, but both Cliff and my late husband taught me how to get through tough situations. I’ve had extensive survival and self-defense training. Can you buy more water, along with canned goods and some of your natural remedies for food and water poisoning, and meet me at the campground at the bottom of our hill around three o’clock? I need you to go back to your house in Chandler to give me a contact on the outside.”
“Of course, but no one has discovered what kind of poison it is. Rita, I’m scared.”
“We don’t have time for fear. Let’s keep our heads clear and our emotions checked. I’ll use my computer to figure out what’s going on.” A beep prompted me to check caller ID. “Katy, honey, hang on. Taylor’s on the other line.”
I answered Taylor’s call.
“It’s time for us to get Cliff and Travis out of that hospital.” Her voice sounded stern but urgent. “They’re better off at home. I’m running out of my natural remedies. Do you have contacts in Phoenix who can bring more supplies?”
“Katy,” I said. “I’ll have her call you for a list. Which is more urgent, getting Cliff and Travis out or securing supplies?”
“Supplies,” she said. “Then Cliff and Travis.”
We ended our call, and I switched back to Katy. We agreed on what food she would buy for our family and where we would meet, then I gave her Taylor’s number and disconnected.
The gas station attendant knocked on my window. “You’re the last car to leave. I’ll move the cones for you.”
I followed the attendant and called the man who put up my fence while I drove home.
“Can you put barbs or something at the top of my fence? Someone tried to scale it last night.”
“Yes, but I can only take cash.” He gave me an estimate.
Did we have that much in our safe? It didn’t matter. Depending on how long this crisis lasted, I might need whatever cash was there.
I turned into the bank’s driveway, my energy falling when I looked inside to see no lights inside. I approached the drive-through ATM. A message read, “Out of service.”
I moved to a parking slot in front of the building. What to do… what to do?
An idea hit. I dialed Katy. “I’m going to Brisk Cash you a thousand dollars. It should be in your account in a few minutes. Can you bring me the money? I need to upgrade my security fence.”
She agreed, and I used my phone to transfer the funds.
Taylor called. “Rita, I came home to get more supplies, and someone has broken in. They took all my food, water, and medicines.”
“Go to my house,” I said. “Plan to stay a week or two at least. If I’m not there when you arrive, wait. I’m going out to look for a homeless friend before something bad happens to her.”
I checked every dumpster enclosure I could find. Mary wasn’t at the park or any of the fast food restaurants or grocery stores. I drove home and hoped to meet her at David’s house after dark.
As I pulled into my driveway, movement under my front porch caught my breath. I stopped the car, pulled my gun from my waistband, and forced a round into the chamber.
The person froze under the stairs.
“Come out.”
No movement.
“In case you haven’t noticed, I have a gun, and I’m not afraid to use it. I will shoot you if you don’t come out right now.”
A woman with tousled hair crawled out from under the stairs, her hands raised, and terror turning her eyes bright green.
I emptied the round from the chamber and returned my gun to its concealed holster. “Mary, I’ve been looking for you. I set up a cot for you in my backyard.”
My phone alerted me to a new text message. You need to help us escape from this death trap, Cliff wrote.
Where will you be? I answered.
No response.
13
Taylor’s red Nissan rocked to a stop in the driveway, under the basketball hoop.
“Katy has my list and knows where to buy the supplies.” Taylor slammed the driver’s side door as she rushed toward me. “She’ll bring them with her this afternoon.” When she noticed Mary and came to an abrupt stop, her sneakers squeaked.
Mary stepped back and glanced toward the fence, looking like she’d spring over it at any moment.
“Mary, it’s okay.” I tried to use a reassuring tone. “You, Taylor, and I can save Emma.”
Mary relaxed her stance, but her eyes continued to dart around.
“I set up a cot for you in a secluded part of the backyard. You’ll be safe there. I also set up a solar shower and latrine for all of us. The shower uses water we stored before the town’s supply got contaminated. We can work together to figure out how to save Emma.”
Mary sat cross-legged on the gravel under Travis’ oak tree, propped her elbows on her knees, and held her head. “Must save Emma.” She rocked back and forth.
I turned to Taylor for advice on what to do next. She shrugged.
I stepped forward but stopped when Mary cringed. “Mary, Taylor will live with me, but I know you don’t like to be inside. I hope you’ll stay in the place I set up for you here. May I show it to you?”
Mary stood and gave a nod but glanced toward the fence as if deciding if she should follow me or run.
“Okay, good,” I said. “Taylor will get in her car while we walk past. She’ll unload her belongings while I take you to your new home. Will you follow me?”
Taylor sat in her car.
Mary followed me to her cot and smiled. “Good.” She picked up the cot and set it behind a manzanita bush away from the shower and out of sight of the house.
“Where’s your cart? Or should I bring you a sleeping bag from my camping gear?”
“David’s.”
“Do you want to retrieve your cart from David’s house while I make a few calls and help Taylor take her things inside? I asked a worker to upgrade my security fence. You can remain secluded wherever you want while he’s here.”
Mary didn’t answer. She ran around the corner, down the drive, and into the street.
“Think she’ll be back?” Taylor asked.
“Who knows? I’ll leave the gate open while you unload, but I’m not leaving it unattended with everything that’s been going on.”
“I don’t have much,” Taylor said. “A few clothes and the herbal remedies I had with me.”
“You’ve stayed in my house before,” I said. “Do you prefer the basement for privacy or Zoe’s room to be around people?”
“I want to be upstairs with you.”
Taylor followed me up the stairs and dropped her bag on the carpet in Zoe's room.
The second I eyed the lime green and pink comforter with two matching ottomans at the foot of the bed, an overwhelming desire to see my daughter and her new husband engulfed me. While Taylor sat on the mattress to remove her shoes, I steadied myself against the beige wall. Taylor took her cell from her back pocket, plugge
d in her charger, and set the phone on Zoe’s cream-colored nightstand, next to the matching student desk.
I must have sighed.
“We will get through this, Rita.” Taylor stood and pulled me into an embrace.
“I know. I’m tired, and worried, and scared, and angry at whoever did this. I miss my family. We planned a party for tonight. My mom and her husband Robert, Zoe and her new husband Josh, Cliff, Travis, Aunt Zelda. Everyone would be here.”
“I hope you can do that next weekend.” Taylor patted my back.
“Do you think it’s possible?” I pulled away and searched her eyes.
Her smile lacked certainty. “Let’s watch for answers. We should wait outside for Mary, then I’ll go meet Katy.”
Ten minutes later, Mary wheeled her cart past us, not even giving us a glance. I watched her stop near her cot and unpack.
I turned to Taylor. “Well, I guess she’ll be fine for the night. What’s the plan for getting Cliff and Travis out of the hospital?”
“The owner of the mortuary owes me a favor,” Taylor said. “We have to wait until the shift change tonight. You should go meet Katy.”
I returned to the front and called the fence guy.
“I’ll have the cash at four o’clock,” I said. “Can you start work right away so I can sleep tonight?”
He arrived thirty minutes later, a rugged-looking man with a beer belly and a hearty laugh. I introduced him to Taylor, warned him about Mary, and left in the Jeep to meet Katy.
I drove through town on deserted streets and followed Cliff’s directions. On Mule Train Trail, the asphalt gave way to an unmaintained dirt and gravel road. Five miles into the sixteen-mile trip, I came to an extreme drop-off and got out to inspect it before continuing.
Was that cigarette smoke I smelled? I looked around, saw no one, and continued inspecting the trail.
Deep ruts led to boulders that stair-stepped several feet down. I returned to the Jeep and began my slow descent.
The vehicle swayed and tilted so far, I prayed it wouldn’t roll over. I was thankful no one could hear my screams.
A mile after making it across the obstacle, I screamed as I inched down three hair-raising drop-offs.
As soon as I reached the trailhead where Katy and I agreed to meet, I stopped the Jeep and laid my head on the steering wheel. I didn’t realize how tight a hold I’d used on the steering wheel until my fingers tingled as I let go.
Could I get the Jeep to climb back to town once I loaded in the food, water, and medicine Katy was bringing?
I lifted my head when I heard tires crunch beside me.
Katy waved as she exited her Prius. I met her at the trunk.
“Did I tell you I saw Travis this morning?” I hugged her. “He looks so much better.”
“Thanks for letting me know. I’ll call Neri on the way home to tell her how he’s doing.” She hesitated and turned toward the Jeep trail. “How was the drive?”
“The drive got a little rough in places, but it wasn’t bad,” I lied.
She gave a skeptical look. “Is that why you’re pale and your hair is tousled? Because of an easy drive on a Jeep trail that evens out after that steep spot?” She gestured toward the last drop-off I’d descended, turned back, laid a fist on her hip, and a lifted eyebrow. “And why you didn’t notice me parked at the other end of this trailhead?”
“Okay, I haven’t driven down such sharp drops before, and it scared the bejesus out of me. I got here, and I can get back.”
She opened her trunk, revealing a red and white ice chest. “That’s better. Let’s transfer these supplies before my frozen food defrosts.”
We each grasped a handle and tugged the container from her trunk.
“How did you get this in here?” I asked.
“I set it in the truck before putting in the food.”
She handed me bags of groceries and boxes of medical supplies. I squeezed in a trash bag of canned goods but had to remove food from the final paper sack and stuff the food into small crevices.
“Have you been listening to the news?” Katy asked.
“I haven’t had time. What’s the latest?”
“They’re questioning the staff of the water treatment plant. On social media, people are wondering about drones spraying crops with an unknown substance.”
“Mary mentioned drones.” Was this an attack on several fronts? “Did anyone else see them?”
“No. It was a speculation.”
I gave Katy a final embrace.
“Be careful, Rita.” She looked at the sky.
I hadn’t noticed the dark clouds before then and tried not to think about the last time I got caught in a monsoon storm. I shivered.
Katy looked skyward. “It might rain. Call me when you’re back in Rim Vista.”
I waved goodbye and drove toward the Jeep trail.
Things went fine the first mile. I scaled a steep climb, then it started sprinkling. The windshield was so dusty that the wipers spread around the mud. When the rain got heavier, ruts in the trail flooded.
I slid sideways once when I tried to leave the ruts, so I stayed within them. Mud coated the tires. To make matters worse, hail pelted down.
In the middle of the final rocky hill before Rim Vista, something thumped against the back bumper. I got out to check the tires, shielding my eyes from the driving rain intermixed with hail that stung with each strike.
The back right tire was shredded.
Had I paid close enough attention when I watched people change tires? I told myself I could do anything I put my mind to.
The spare tire was on the back hatch, but where was the jack? I opened the hatch and found a covering in the floor. I had to set a trash bag of canned goods on the ground, along with two gallons of bottled water. Opening the compartment, I located the jack and the lug wrench.
As I jacked up the back of the Jeep, the rain came down harder, filling the rut where I had braced my knee. I quickened my pace.
With the lug wrench on the first nut, I stomped on the handle and repeated the process to loosen all the lug nuts. Water cascaded off my nose.
The wheel came off with a strong tug, and I laid it in the mud. I took the cover off the spare tire, removed the nuts that held it to the back hatch, and yanked. It bounced to the ground, splashing mud onto my jeans, T-shirt, and mouth. When I flinched, I lost my grip. The tire rolled downhill.
I chased after it yelling, “I am woman; hear me roar.”
14
The tire bounced off the right side of the trail, fell on its side, rattled around like a spinning quarter on a counter, and splashed to an abrupt stop in a puddle.
I had bigger problems than retrieving the runaway tire from the mud.
My feet couldn’t keep up with my head. Trying to minimize the impact of my anticipated face plant, I swerved toward the only patch of grass in sight, more like weeds sprouting in a pile of gravel. Things went semi-okay until I slipped in the mud. My arms flailed in all directions as I slid a few inches, bounced onto my behind then back to my feet, and lost the battle to stay upright when the side of my right foot caught on a rock buried in what I gauged to be the only solid ground around.
My cheek hit the gravel with a squishy thud that sent stars across my vision. I hoped my neck wouldn’t break as I flipped head-over-heals to my back, then tucked my legs to my chest and held my knees during an uncontrolled roll to the bottom of the hill. Each thump against the gravel put another gash or scrape on my arms.
When my stomach rammed against the tire, I grunted and splashed onto my back, moaning as I leaned on my elbow and worked to pull air into my lungs. My face, arms, feet, right ankle, and both hips throbbed. Mud caked my shoes, clung to my clothes, and dribbled from my hair.
A man’s cough startled me to attention. There was the cigarette smell again. Someone was watching me?
I pushed myself to a sitting position and stretched to see the Jeep. The hill and bushes hid it. I stood and pulled the
drenched legs of my jeans away from my skin, so I could limp up the hill.
A noise stopped me in my tracks.
Did someone close the back hatch? What was the scraping sound? Were they going to steal my ride?
Rain streamed off my nose as I hobbled faster and topped the hill.
The Jeep’s back hatch was closed, the shredded tire was attached to the spot where I had removed the spare, and my plastic bag of canned goods and bottles of water were gone.
My stomach tightened.
“Hello?” I squinted in all directions, but the rain and approaching dusk clouded my vision.
No one answered.
I repeatedly looked behind and around myself as I trudged back down the hill, struggled to pull the wheel upright, and rolled, pushed, and drug it up the hill. Watching for any signs of the person who stole my food, I attached the spare to the wheel studs, fastened and tightened the lug nuts, and tossed the wrench and jack onto my pile of supplies.
With a final darting glance into the darkness, I smacked my legs and butt to remove as much mud as possible, grasped the steering wheel, and pulled my trembling body to the driver’s seat.
That’s when I saw what looked like someone taking a drag off a cigarette. Was he watching me from a shallow cave in the rock wall several yards away?
Goosebumps formed on my arms. The hair on the back of my neck tingled.
I started the Jeep, shifted into gear, and stomped on the accelerator. Rocks and mud spewed from under the tires, and the vehicle fishtailed.
Even though my nerves screamed to race away from this place, I told myself to back off and reasoned that the smoker saw my unfortunate fall, then wanted to help me. He took food and water as payment for helping me attach the shredded tire to the back of the Jeep.
He was harmless, right? I hoped he was. But why didn’t he reveal himself instead of hiding in the cave? Why didn’t he help me attach the spare tire?
Was he hiding? From whom? The police?
I increased the pressure on the accelerator until the Jeep lurched forward. The steering wheel jerked as the Jeep slipped in and out of ruts as I moved toward town. The back end slid sideways twice.