by S A Ison
“That your dog? He’s outside. We fed him. He looked a little skinny. He didn’t want to let us take you,” Harry said, a smile in his voice.
“I found him. He’s my dog now. I was headin’ home and got stopped on Walnut Street. They done put up a blockade. They wanted my truck, so I ran away. But guess they done shot me and the truck. I ran outta gas.” He paused a moment. “I need to get home.” He once more tried to sit up. Hands pushed him back down.
“We’ll go let your grandfather know, and we’ll fill up the truck and return it,” Harry said.
“You’re not going anywhere for a while, so you might as well get comfortable, young man,” Katie said, tempering the order with a smile.
Alan grinned back at her and nodded meekly. He suddenly felt tired, so closed his eyes.
CHAPTER SIX
Harry and Clay drove past the dead truck. They’d get gas and bring it back to put into Wilber’s truck. The important thing was to let Wilber know Alan was safe. They were also going to take care of the men who’d shot a teenaged boy. Harry’s rage was tamped down, and he looked over at Clay’s stony countenance.
It was dusk. By the time they got to town, it would be full on dark. They didn’t have to worry about anyone seeing Clay; he had a ballcap on and his jacket was pulled up to nearly obliterate his face. And if they did see him and they were the wrong people, Harry would make sure they’d tell no one.
He was in a dark mood and wanted to take it out on one of those assholes. He hoped that whoever had shot the kid was still there. He marveled at Alan’s strength. The kid had been more concerned about getting word to them about the supplies than his own life. Alan was young but had the makings of a great man. Harry hoped the boy lived long enough to fulfill that promise.
He took the curves slowly, expecting barricades. The streets were empty when they made it to town and they drove quietly, neither man speaking, lost in their own thoughts. Harry pulled out his Glock, taking note that Clay had pulled his service revolver; they were getting close to Walnut Street. This was the normal route to Alan’s home, though there were other ways. Ahead, two cars had been pushed together to block the road. There was a metal trashcan with a fire burning inside. A grim smile flitted over Harry’s face when he saw two men step out. A tall thin man, as Alan had described, and a shorter, stockier man.
Harry rolled down his window, as did Clay. He slowed his vehicle and stopped fifteen feet away. He leaned his head out.
“What’s going on here?” he called.
“You need ta hand over that there truck, mister.” The tall thin man grinned. His long gun was cradled in his arm lazily, but not pointed directly at Harry.
Big mistake, thought Harry.
“Really? That’s just crazy. By who’s authority?” he asked conversationally.
The tall man sniggered and looked at his partner. Then he looked back at Harry.
“By my authority. Now git out,” he said, and began to raise his weapon. Harry and Clay brought their weapons up simultaneously and leaned out their windows. Harry’s was the first to discharge, and the thin man’s body crumpled with two shots to the chest, blood blooming black in the night. Clay double-tapped the stockier man, one in the chest and one in the neck. Blood oozed out and neither man moved. Harry and Clay got out of the truck and walked over to the downed men.
Both were still alive, their labored breathing causing bubbles to foam from their mouths and noses, the silence of the night broken by their gurgling sputters. Their eyes widened when they saw Clay. Harry saw that Clay was grinning, as he squatted down.
“Ni… ni…” the thin man tried to say, then died. The shorter man’s lips moved, but no sound came out. The wound in his neck spurted in thin jets across the road. Clay had nicked the artery.
Clay stood and looked at Harry. Harry saw the grim, satisfied smile on the taller man’s face. He was sure that his own visage reflected the same satisfied look, because he was damned happy. They’d got the shit-heels that had shot a teenager.
“Two less assholes in this world. Let’s go find Wilber,” Clay said. He picked up the weapons dropped by the dead men, then patted both men down. It didn’t take him long to remove the ammunition stuffed in their pockets.
Harry nodded, and both men walked back to the truck. Harry did a U-turn and took another route to Wilber’s home. In five minutes or so, they turned into the driveway. Both men looked over to the burned-out remains of Katie’s home next door. It was dark, but the headlights illuminated the plot, and the burned-out shell of the house. What had once been a neat, well-kept home was now a gruesome caricature of a dwelling. It summed up the whole disaster that had befallen their town. Wanton and depraved destruction, a singular disregard for humanity.
“I don’t want Katie to see this. She shouldn’t have to see this ugliness,” Clay said softly.
“I agree. You know you and Katie are welcome to stay at the farmhouse once we clear all this up. Also, once we lose gas, we will pretty much be stuck out there. I’m looking ahead, thinking about getting a horse, trading some of our supplies, maybe for a buggy or wagon, so we can travel to town,” Harry said as they walked up to Wilber’s house.
“Katie and I’ve talked. I think we will move into town. I want to take over as sheriff, and the town will need a doctor. I’m hoping we can find an abandoned home with a big enough plot of land to plant for the spring,” Clay said.
Harry nodded, lifting his hand to knock on the door, which opened before he could. Wilber looked at each of the men, a shotgun held at ready.
“What in tarnation are you doin’ here? Where’s Alan?” he asked, worried.
“He’s safe, Wilber. He’s up at the house. He was shot. We killed the men who did it on our way here. They’d set up a barricade over on Walnut Street,” Harry said as he entered the gloom of the house. Several lit hurricane lanterns stood on the kitchen table. He and Clay walked over, and all three men sat down.
“They shot my grandson? Why?” Wilber asked, torn between rage and grief.
“They wanted his truck. Alan said he did a U-turn and hauled ass. He said the men shot at him. He got to my place just as his gas ran out. We saw him get out of the truck and then he fell. Clay and I picked him up in our truck and the women took care of him. He’s now basking in their care.” Harry grinned, trying to ease Wilber’s worry.
“Can we go? Can I see my grandson?” Wilber asked, getting up from the table and looking around franticly.
“Sure can. We’ll need to fill up a couple of gas cans on the way so we can get your truck running again,” Harry said.
Wilber got his jacket and went to Alan’s room. When he came back, he had a change of clothing for the boy. He blew out the lanterns and all three men left the house. It was full dark and no moonlight, the clouds heavy with the promise of rain.
Wilber went to his shed and opened the door. He pulled out a two-gallon and a five-gallon gas can. He handed them to Harry, who put them in the back of his truck. Wilber climbed into the truck and Clay got in beside him.
“Alan found Anderson’s stash, by the way,” Clay told Wilber, a smile spread across his face.
“He did? Oh, my grandson is a sharp one,” Wilber laughed. Harry heard the immense pride in the old man’s voice.
“You also have a new dog,” Harry sniggered, looking over at the old man.
“What? What dog?” Wilber asked.
“It seems that Alan found himself a dog, a big one, and it loves the boy,” Clay laughed.
“That’s okay. My grandson has earned it.” The old man shook his head. “I can’t believe he found the stash. That’s gonna help a lot of folks around here.”
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Katie brought a bowl of broth out for Alan; she didn’t want him on solid foods until they had been able to check his stool. She wanted to make sure there was no blood, indicating a nick in the bowels. They’d have to watch him closely, but as far as they’d been able to ascertain, the bullet hadn’t hit anything vital.
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The bullet had been slowed considerably by passing through the layers of steel in the truck, and the seat upholstery. They would have to watch out for infection, though she and Willene had irrigated and cleansed the wound as thoroughly as they could. The slug from his body and thankfully it hadn’t gone deep. She still had antibiotics available and would give him a run. With that, he should recover fully.
She looked down at the boy, who was sleeping. It was important to get him eating and moving his bowels. She placed a gentle hand on his forehead, causing his eyes to open. He wasn’t hot, and for that she was glad.
“Hey, Dr. Katie,” he said softly, smiling up at her.
“Hey, Alan. How are you feeling, honey?” she asked.
“I hurt, but okay.”
“I have some broth. You think you could eat?”
“Yes’m, I think I could.”
She helped him sit up, and he grimaced with pain. She apologized, but he grinned and waved it off. She plumped the feather pillows behind him, then began to spoon in the broth. Homer was by the couch now and watched as Katie fed the teen. She looked down at the dog and his tail thumped on the floor
“I kin feed myself, Dr. Katie,” Alan protested.
“I know, but I want to. Do you mind?”
He grinned widely. “No mam.”
“I think Homer is worried about you. He seems like a good dog,” Katie said.
“Oh, he’s a good dog, an’ smart too. I like him a lot. I ain’t never had a dog. He’s juss perfect.” He sighed happily, causing Katie to grin.
When she’d finished, she took note that the boy looked tired and worn out. She helped him lie back down, and left him, heading back into the kitchen. Earl sat at the kitchen table with Monroe in his lap. Both were eating dinner – fried chicken, fried potatoes, green beans, tomatoes, and a vinegar coleslaw. Monroe had a small portion of macaroni and cheese, his favorite.
Willene was holding Angela in her arms. Katie could have sworn the child had more food on her face than inside. Willene also had food covering her. She put the child’s fingers into her mouth and cleaned them, and Angela giggled. Katie smiled. She was going to miss this, but once things were safe, the town would need her.
Willene and Marilyn were more than capable of taking care of everyone here. She’d miss them., but she and Clay had already decided they wanted to begin their lives in town. They wanted their own home to raise their children. They had each other and that was enough.
“They’ll need a sheriff. I’m hoping Stroh will be there as well. We can build a new police force. It doesn’t have to be large, but it has to be honest and humane,” Clay had said on their walk back up to the house.
She hoped this would end soon, that the KKK would be taken out, never to rise in their small town again. The world no longer had room for that kind of hate. They all needed each other to work together, to build something better than before. She’d have to go back to the hospital, and hopefully there would be enough supplies and medicines there that she could help folks.
She also thought that, when she got back to town, she’d head to the local library. She really hoped no-one had destroyed it. She’d find books on natural cures and herbal medicines. At some point, the medicines at the hospital would run out, and she’d have to learn new ways of treating people. It would give her something to do over the long winter. She enjoyed learning about new methods of healing.
Boggy walked in, pulling her out of her thoughts. As he walked by Earl and Monroe, he squeezed the child’s head playfully, eliciting a giggle from the boy. Marilyn grinned, and took the NVGs from Boggy, and took his gun as well. She walked over to Earl and patted him on the shoulder, then leaned over and kissed Monroe on his head.
“I’ll be back in a while. You listen to Uncle Earl and Aunt Willene, okay?” she warned her son.
“Yes mam.” He grinned up at her.
Boggy took Marilyn’s seat, and Katie went over to dish him up a plate of food, and one for herself.
“How’s Alan doin’?” Boggy asked Katie.
“He’s good. He ate some broth and now he’s asleep. No temperature, and I checked the stitches. There’s just a little redness, nothing serious. His dog is beside him, on the floor.” She smiled.
“I cain’t believe that boy found Anderson’s stash,” Earl said, shaking his head.
“Me either,” Boggy echoed.
“I’m not surprised, really. He’s a smart boy,” Katie said, handing Boggy a plate and sitting down beside him.
“He is that, and brave as well,” Willene said as she took a cloth napkin and began to clean Angela up.
“Yes, he is, and he doesn’t give up either,” Katie laughed. There was a round of soft chuckling in the kitchen. It was warm in the room, from the fire in the stove and the companionship of the people.
“That stash will surely help the remaining townspeople, and those that come out of the coal mine. Does anyone know how many are down there?” Willene asked no one in particular.
“Wilber said they’s thirty of ’em left, without the young’uns,” Earl volunteered.
“I wonder how they’re going to be housed for the winter? And fed, though with the supplies found, I think that will go a long way in helping,” Katie said.
“I believe there are many who have relatives. And I think, with the promise of supplies, some will be willing to open their homes. I think some will go back to their own homes, if they’ve not been burned down,” Willene said.
“Clay and I’ve been talking. Once we get this mess settled out, we plan to go back to town, find us a vacant home and live there. They’ll need a doctor and police force there. And, though I’ll miss you all, I think the town will be needing us,” Katie said, reading surprise and sorrow on the faces around her.
“I sure wish you’d both stay here, but I understand,” Willene said.
“I don’t know iffin Harry said anythang, but me an’ Boggy is gonna stay on here, if that’s all right?” Earl commented, worry written all over his face. Katie saw Willene grin, and she smiled as well.
Willene reached over and hugged Earl. “You and Boggy are welcome. You’re our family, as are Katie and Clay, no matter where they go,” she said with a smile.
Shadows flickered over the group’s faces. The hurricane lanterns brightened up the kitchen, but also left it in heavy shadows. They all turned when they saw headlights coming up the hill. Harry was back. Katie picked up her lantern and went out to the living room. She was sure Wilber had questions.
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Everyone sat out on the porch later that evening. The kids were asleep upstairs, and Wilber had been fed dinner and invited to spend the night. Harry could see the glow of pipes along the porch and the glow of a cigarette, Earl. The tree frogs were singing, but a little subdued. There was a light rain coming down and it was chilly. Everyone had a jacket on, and a blanket thrown over their laps.
It was quite cozy in the dark and quiet. Harry would go out in a few hours to walk the property. He now had the NVGs in his lap and peered through them from time to time. He wasn’t very worried; there were fewer incidents these days.
“It sure is peaceful up here,” Wilber said softly, unwilling to disturb the hushed atmosphere.
“It is. Our family picked a good place to build a house. We can see a good ways up and down the road, and we’re high enough that the traffic never reached a high pitch here. Now, it never will,” Willene said just as softly.
“I was thinking about talking to Joshua about getting milk and butter for the townspeople. First, I’ll have to trade for a horse and see about a wagon or buggy. I think our gas will only last another month or so before it becomes either too degraded to work or is completely gone. If I had a diesel, I would have been able to make the vehicle last longer,” Harry said.
“I could ask Boney. He knows a few folks with some horses. Maybe make a good trade. I also think Boney has an old buggy, or wagon. It ain’t much, and might need repairs, but we’ll see what w
e kin do. That old bus they’s usin’ ta git them folks back and forth from the coal mine to Gerhard’s farm is diesel. We could maybe use that ta git folks around. I’m sure there must be a mechanic somewheres in town,” Wilber said.
“That’s a great idea. Maybe come this way every few weeks. Or we can go to town for a visit and trading,” Willene said.
“That would be wonderful. I’d miss you guys so much if you didn’t come,” Katie said.
“Once this mess with the mayor and Yates is done,” Harry said.
“Mayor’s dead. Heard tell, Yates done shot him ’tween the eyes.” Wilber laughed low.
“Well, that is one less idgit we gotta worry ’bout,” Earl laughed.
“I wonder what brought that on?” Marilyn asked.
“Probably tired of listening to that idiot. Yates doesn’t suffer fools easily, and if you’ve spent any time near the man, you’ll know he’s a pontificating fool,” Clay said in disgust.
Harry laughed, and soon everyone else joined in. Harry felt Marilyn shiver and scooted closer, adding his blanket to hers so they overlapped. He heard her soft thanks. They were on the swing. It felt normal and natural for them to be there together. It had become, of sorts, a habit.
The group quieted down once more, each lost in their thoughts. They heard Alan cough, and Katie and Wilber got up and went into the house. Harry heard them murmuring quietly. Their voices didn’t sound stressed, so his shoulders relaxed.
He brought the NVGs up to his eyes and scanned around. They managed okay with light rain but were useless in a downpour. He heard the dogs, their snoring had picked up, and chuckled softly. Homer was inside with Alan and wouldn’t leave his side. Wilber had petted the dog upon meeting him.
“Are we going on Friday?” Clay asked quietly.
“Yeah. We’ll leave out of here around four. The bus usually gets back to the coal mine around six. We can park a little away out and walk in. It might be tricky, as there isn’t a whole lot of cover, but I’m bringing my rifle. I was thinking about hitting them just as the bus was arriving. That way, their attention is diverted,” Harry said.