Run Like the Wind: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller (The SHTF Series Book 3)

by L. L. Akers

  Puck nodded, lobbing a fast-running tear off his cheek.

  “Stop crying,” Grayson admonished. This was new world and it had no room for tears. As much as it pained him to hurt Puck’s feelings, the boy was going to have to toughen up.

  Puck nodded again, and swiped at his face. “Sorry. Can me and Jenny still stay here with you, Grayman? I’ll try to do better. I don’t want you to not like me.”

  Silence engulfed Grayson and he had to swallow hard. He coughed and caught his brother-in-law’s disappointed eyes before Jake turned around and stomped up the steps, slamming the screen door behind him. Olivia and Gabby followed, punctuating their feelings with a repeat of the slamming door, leaving Grayson alone with the boy, other than the judging eyes of Ozzie that stayed glued on them from the safety of the porch.

  Grayson rushed in and grabbed Puck, bringing him to close to his chest, smothering the boy in a tight hug. “Listen here, Puck. I don’t like you,” he whispered, not able to bring his thick voice any louder. “I love you, kid. I’m sorry…and you ain’t going nowhere, you hear me? We’re your family now. I won’t turn you away just for making a mistake. I won’t turn you away at all,” he said, his voice breaking on the last two words. “You’re my boy now,” he whispered.

  Puck reached around with his good arm and hugged Grayson back, tears of relief now flowing freely. “Thank you, Grayman. But I’ll do better next time. You’ll see. I’ll be tough like Graysie,” he said, clinging to the older man.

  Grayson stepped back from Puck, straightened up and swiped away a sneaky tear. He cleared his throat. “That’s right. You’ll toughen up,” he said, and gave Puck a firm nod.

  25

  The Farm

  Grayson stood alone at the truck now, surrounded only by a chatter of obnoxious chickens who had listened to his tearful confession to Puck with no interest.

  Puck had wandered off to find more solace with Jenny. He could already picture the big lug’s arms around the donkey’s neck, burying his angelic face in the burro’s hair. Just that morning he had gifted her with a paracord harness that he’d braided himself, eager to present for her appreciation, as though it were the finest piece of jewelry. She’d snorted at it, but indulged the boy when he’d fitted it on, seeming right at ease with it.

  Jenny had become more tolerant of Puck’s affections in the past few weeks. Grayson supposed it was because he was the one familiar thing to her in a world that had gone upside-down. It wasn’t unusual for Puck to have hour-long conversations with her, hugging her neck to make each point, and lavishing affection upon her.

  She in turn followed him everywhere, like a very tall dog, even seemingly jealous when Puck threw the ball for Ozzie. If it happened to land near her, she’d snatch it up between her big square teeth and seemingly tease Ozzie with it while he sat obediently in front of her—just as he did the humans—hopeful eyes looking up, sloppy tongue lolling out in wait. But she disappointed him time and time again with one big crunch, rudely dropping the remains of his ball at his feet.

  Every. Single. Time.

  The ass was heartless to the dog.

  Luckily, the church had no need for tennis balls, leaving a full tote of them out in the container, unmolested by Olivia.

  And now it was time to face Olivia…

  Dragging his feet, he made his way into the house to face the music, and stopped short just inside the door, his mouth in a hushed “O” of surprise.

  Upon his couch, Olivia was nestled between two small children, telling them a story…

  “—Once upon a time, there lived a mean man on a farm, and his name was Mr. Marshall Mellow. But the man wasn’t really mean. People just thought he was, because he wore a cranky look on his face, and said snappy grouchy words when he tried to hide his real feelings to make everyone believe he was the toughest guy in the world. But you see, the mean man was really a marshmallow inside—just a little burnt around the edges. If you bit in deep enough though, he was sweet…”

  She looked up at her husband with a glare.

  “Me and Puck made up,” Grayson said, his hands in his pockets.

  “You make it sound like it was a fair fight,” Olivia answered, and then pursed her lips.

  Gabby and Jake, cuddled together on the loveseat, raised matching eyebrows, and then looked at the floor.

  Grayson sighed. “I said I was sorry to the kid. But you don’t know what we went through out there. It was some scary shit. He’s got to toughen up.”

  “Watch your language,” she admonished him, with a glance at the kids. “And I do know. Jake and Graysie told me.” Olivia stood up and hugged her husband and then stood back and waved an arm toward the children. “Honey, meet Briar and Brody. They’re going to be living with us.”

  The skinny boy closed the gap that Olivia had left between them, scooting over and putting a protective arm around his little sister. The little girl looked at Grayson with wide, scared eyes and then hid her face on her brother’s chest.

  Grayson felt a familiar vein ticking in his forehead and he looked at the ceiling. He blew out a breath. “Olivia, can I see you in the bedroom?”

  Olivia waved Graysie over to the couch and gave the children a quick smile as her husband stomped from the living room. She followed closely on his heels.

  “I can explain,” she said as she shut their bedroom door. “Sit down.”

  Grayson sat heavily on the bed, his head in his hands. “Tell me.”

  “Gabby and I found them.”

  “They’re not stray dogs, Olivia. We can’t keep them.”

  “Grayson…listen,” she pleaded, and then told him the story of their meth-head mother and the two men who wanted to get their hands, literally, on the little girl. She explained they’d scared the two men with stories of trigger-happy husbands, one of which was a law enforcement officer, and the other which was DEA—a drug enforcement officer; neither of which was true. The men had ridden off into the sunset with a promise to never return, taking the woman, who seemed giddy with excitement to be kid-free, with them.

  Grayson shook his head. “Olivia, we don’t have enough food.”

  She sat down on the bed beside him, putting her hand on his leg. “We’ll make due. We found a ton of Prickly Pear Cactus out there, all of them at least waist high, at least a dozen or more. And dandelions, and a few berry bushes. I’m sure there’s all sorts of other things. We just have to look.” She picked up her wild foraging book from the bedside table and flipped through, showing Grayson a half dozen plants she’d circled with notes on where around the property they’d found it. “And Elmer said he’d hunt for meat. Tina and Tarra are closing in on those wild hogs, too.”

  “That’s still not enough. Children need more than that. They need milk, and vitamins, and…well, all sorts of things we don’t have or even know about anymore. These kids are a liability.”

  Olivia stood up, her hands on her hips. “Grayson Rowan, you will not call those kids a liability. They’re innocent children! And they have nowhere else to go. They’ll stay here with us, and if we don’t have enough food, they can have mine,” she finished, stamping her foot. “Now you get yourself together, Mr. Marshall Mellow, and then come back out here and greet these babies with a smile, or so help me…”

  She stomped out of the bedroom, leaving the last words unsaid, and a chuckle dying to get out of Grayson. It wasn’t often she stomped her foot or crossed swords with him. But when she did, she meant it.

  He closed his eyes and sighed.

  But the food…

  His anger came rushing back.

  Of course they can have your food…Olivia…you’ve given most of our food away already, why wouldn’t you give them what’s left?! He smashed his fist into the mattress, finally venting his frustration with his wife.

  And then he pushed that thought out of his head and reminded himself that this was the woman he’d married. It was nothing new. She was the heart in their marriage and he had no doubt she’d mean
t what she said. She’d starve before taking food from a child’s mouth.

  And he’d starve right along with her.

  It wasn’t even a question. He might grumble about it, but he wasn’t a total monster. He couldn’t put two innocent children out, or take them back to that mess they were found in—and Olivia damn well knew it.

  But he felt justified to get a little bent about it, at least.

  He stood and rubbed his jaw, now aching worse than ever, and convinced a fake, stiff smile to appear before going to meet the two newest additions to his ever-growing family.

  26

  The Farm

  As night finally fell, a small blaze burned in the fire pit, battling the mosquitos, while the family gathered nearby at the two picnic tables—one hastily built today to accommodate all of them. Puck and Jake had pushed the tables end to end so they could all eat together.

  For now.

  Sautéed Dandelion greens steamed from their plates, with a generous helping of rabbit stew over rice, compliments of Elmer, freshly hunted and skinned, and deliciously cooked in his solar oven, using the Fresnel lens. A side of cool, sliced cucumbers and tomatoes from the garden topped off their meal.

  Tomorrow would be a busy day. With even more people under his roof, Grayson had assigned designated sleeping arrangements: he, Olivia and Ozzie would sleep in the master bedroom. Gabby and Jake would have the spare. Graysie was in her own room, where she would share her double bed with Briar and Brody. Tina and Tarra would sleep in the pop-up camper, which the ladies had managed to get clean and ready today in his absence. Elmer would sleep on the couch, and Puck would sleep in their small basement. It was only a fourth the size of the house—positioned directly under the two spare bedrooms—but dry and mostly without varmints. It’d do fine for Puck to have a little bit of room.

  Puck wasn’t too happy with his assignment, complaining that Jenny wouldn’t have a window to talk to him through. Grayson—and everybody else—knew that wasn’t the only reason; he was scared to sleep down there alone. So, it was no surprise when Elmer claimed the couch was lumpy and that he’d rather sleep downstairs with Puck.

  Puck was grinning ear to ear. He absolutely loved Elmer.

  Elmer beamed. He loved the boy right back. “I’d imagine that flea bag dog will be down there with us too,” he grumbled, and winked at Puck.

  Puck smiled even wider. He adored Ozzie and loved it when the dog curled up next to him. He thought no one knew he’d been luring the dog from Grayson and Olivia’s bedroom with a treat each night.

  Grayson patted Puck on the back. “Boy, you look like a mule eating briars over there grinning like that. Since you seem so happy now with your sleeping assignment, I’ll tell you the bad news. You have to clean it out and organize it.”

  Puck shrugged, never begrudging any chore. “Okay. What do I do?”

  “You’ll find a mess down there, but Graysie’s going to help you since you have one bum hand. Start by clearing the floor. You can stack as many totes and boxes as you can on the shelves. Put the long-term storage food buckets under the stairs. Stack the porta-toilet and all the paper products on top of those, and if you run out of room, take some stuff to the barn. There’s a leak in the container and until I get it fixed, I don’t want to put anything else in there. I’ve been putting it off, but hopefully we’ll beat the rain,” he explained.

  “What am I going to sleep on, GrayMan?”

  “On the shelf, you’ll find three blow-up mattresses and some pillows and bedding in shrink-wrap plastic. Olivia bought those for the teenagers at church to use during lock-ins. Blow up two. One for you, and one for Elmer.”

  Puck looked at him in surprise. “Your church locks in their teenagers? Why?”

  Everybody laughed. Even Briar and Brody, who had been silent as mice, giggled.

  “No. I mean, yes. They do lock them in. But they want to be locked in. It’s sorta like a slumber party for older kids.”

  “Oh, can I go? I’ve always wanted to go to a slumber party!”

  The adults exchanged sad looks.

  “Sure you can,” Grayson said, and smiled. “As soon as things are straightened out with the power, we’ll take you.”

  Puck nodded and happily dug into his food.

  Jake swallowed a bite of rabbit stew, and wiped his mouth. “What’s on the agenda for the rest of us?”

  Grayson forked a red, ripe tomato and looked out over his newly extended family. He popped it into his mouth and chewed, deep in thought.

  First priority was to protect them.

  “You and I are going to be felling trees. It’s time to fortify here. After seeing that crowd walking last night—even though they weren’t headed in this direction, yet—we need to make sure we can protect this place. I’ve been thinking on it, and I think we need to camouflage the driveway. We’ll crisscross trees at the road, blocking it from view and access, and make tall piles of brush all alongside before and after it. Maybe people won’t even see the farm, and walk on by. We can use the tractor, and Elmer, you’re running that while Jake and I play lumberjack. When we don’t need you, I want you start on digging a trench all the way around the house. One big square, and include the barn, the container, and the camper in it. I’ll explain what to do with that later.”

  Tina waved her hand. “What about us little women? Not all of us are helpless,” she said with a wink toward Olivia.

  Olivia rolled her eyes.

  Grayson laughed. “Didn’t think you were. But if you insist, then sure. Next thing is to dig some foxholes around the perimeter of the house.”

  “Foxholes?” Tarra asked. “For what?”

  “To hide in. To take cover in. To shoot from…See those huge potted plants lining the driveway?” He pointed at the pots, each containing the remains of an ornamental tree. No one had paid much attention to them since the power had gone off as they had more important plants to worry about—like the garden. “We need six holes about the diameter of those pots. Leave the dead trees in them. I’ll mark the spots. Dig them big enough, and deep enough, for a man to get on his knees with a rifle, and not get his head blown off. I’ll mount some old wheels on pallets to set the pots on, and we’ll paint them to match the pots. We can roll them out of the way when we need the foxholes.”

  Neither Tina nor Tarra blinked an eye. Both were more than capable of doing some digging, and would most likely be the first man in the hole, if and when the shooting started.

  Grayson continued, “Don’t try to move the pots when you’re done. I want to see each hole, try it on for size, and then put some supplies in each one; ammo and stuff. Plus, it’ll take more than the two of you to lift them onto the pallets. They’re extremely heavy. Jake and I will help with that.”

  “What if Emma and Dusty make it home? How are they going to drive past the trees and avoid the foxholes to get to the house?” Olivia asked.

  Emma was Gabby and Olivia’s little sister who had taken off to Bald Head Island, North Carolina almost three weeks ago, on a bicycle, going after her son and husband who were stranded there, when the grid went down. Her husband was Grayson’s little brother, Dusty. They’d heard no word from them yet…

  Grayson shrugged. “They’ll find their way in. The foxholes will be covered unless we need them, and if we need them, I doubt Dusty and Emma would pop in during a firefight,” he explained, patting his wife on the hand. “Stop worrying about Emma. She’s a big girl now. Next, we need to relocate some of those Prickly Pear Cacti. I want them planted under as many windows as we can. It’ll be tough for anyone to get through those things without some sort of body armor, head to toe. Plus, we’ll have them close by to eat.”

  He waved his fork at all of the ladies. “I also need your help in making the inside of the house more secure. I’m going to be nailing plywood to the inside of the windows and drilling shooting holes in them, but in the meantime, look in the barn for burlap feed bags. If you can’t find enough, get the big, black Hefty garden
trash bags and double-bag them…maybe even triple-bag them. Then set one in front of each window. You’re going to use the dirt that comes out of the fox-holes to fill those bags. If you need more, steal it from the berm behind the gun range. Use a shovel and wheelbarrow and transfer it into those bags in the house.”

  “Dirt inside?” Oliva sneered. “For what?”

  “For protection from bullets flying into the house,” Grayson answered quietly, wishing the children weren’t hanging on their every word. “I’d much rather have dirt on the floor than lead in our ass.”

  Olivia scoffed. “Seriously, Grayson? Don’t you think you’re overdoing it a bit? It’s not that bad out there yet.”

  How easily she’d forgotten her trip home from Myrtle Beach. The gang, the weirdos, Mei, the desperate refugees camped at the rest area, the men who jumped Elmer and Emma, and the bloodbath that her little sister was responsible for that followed…

  Her answer was a dead-stare reaction from every adult who’d been ‘out there.’

  27

  The Farm

  That night, Graysie spoke in a low voice, in the dark. “Once upon a time, there was a very, very poor boy,” she said. “The boy was wandering in the deep, dark forest looking for food for his family because he had no money. Suddenly, he found a beautiful magic mushroom—but his mama had told him to never, ever eat mushrooms. They could be dangerous. But he was so hungry that he picked it up anyway, when a tiny group of fierce fairies appeared and blew on the mushroom, so that he couldn’t take a bite, and it turned to dust, leaving two gold coins in his hand…”