by C. A. Henry
“I guess my family must have been forced to go outside before they were killed. There’s no blood or anything down here,” he mused.
“There’s storage under the floor; see that handle? The panels lift up, but I think most of the food has been taken. We’ll check that in a bit, but right now, let’s look in the drawers under each of the bunks.” He lifted the edge of a blanket on one of the top bunks and showed her the storage drawer underneath. “There’s a little closet over there, too,” he explained, pointing to their right. “That’s where we kept shoes and coats. Clothing, boots, whatever we need, grab it. We’ll pile it all in the shed, then I’ll go get the garden cart. There’s also some clothing in the house.”
Working as fast as they could, they sorted through jeans, jackets, and shirts, and even found a new package of panties. Massey checked the storage bins under the floor and found only a few food items the gang had missed. He added those to the small pile in the shed.
“Let’s go clear the house, and I’ll show you where to look for my aunt’s clothes. While you go through them, I’ll go down to the loafing shed. I won’t be gone long. When I get back, I need to see what I can find for Jeff and myself.”
They made a dash to the house and found that the back door was hanging by one hinge. The interior was a mess: what the gang hadn’t taken, they’d thrown on the floor or against the walls. Shards of china dishes and drinking glasses littered the kitchen, cushions from the chairs and sofa were slashed into shreds. The wanton destruction spoke volumes about the men who had done it. They’d destroyed lives and property with equal abandon.
Massey and Stevie checked every room and found that the worst of the chaos was in the main rooms. The bedrooms had been ransacked, but not destroyed. Clothing lay in heaps on the floors and beds.
“I think they were looking for food, guns, ammo, and such, not clothes. This was my aunt and uncle’s room and the room across the hall was my cousin’s. She was about your size, too, I think. Help yourself to whatever you or Helen can use. I’ll be back in a sec.”
After Massey left, Stevie dug through drawers, the closet, and the piles on the bed in the master bedroom. She found several pairs of jeans, and chose two pairs, then selected two sweatshirts and two long-sleeved tees. Massey’s aunt had several pairs of wool-blend socks and a pair of boots, plus some long underwear. Stevie added those to her stack. Helen will soon be a well-dressed vagabond. Now to find some things for me.
In the cousin’s room, she picked jeans and two dark-colored sweaters, a sweatshirt, long underwear, and boots for herself, and several ponytail holders for Helen. Those will help keep her hair tamed, she thought.
She saw a framed photo on the dresser and picked it up. It was a girls’ basketball team and one of them was holding a trophy. Stevie wondered how many of those girls were still alive, then noticed that the picture seemed really heavy. Tapping it with her fingernail, she knew the frame was plastic and realized it weighed more than it should.
Turning it over, she took the back off, and under it, found several coins fastened to it with tape. Dimes and quarters, all with dates from decades ago.
Holy crap! I think those are real silver! She began pulling the coins off the backing, not bothering to remove the tape as she shoved them into her pocket. I remember my economics teacher telling us that metals like gold and silver have been used as money for millennia, and retain value when paper money becomes worthless. Maybe these coins will come in handy on our trip.
She scooped up an armload of clothes and headed toward the kitchen, wondering what was taking Massey so long. Sweeping debris off the table, she stacked the clothing and went back to the master bedroom to get the things for Helen.
Just as she placed her second bundle of clothes on the table, she heard a noise behind her and started to turn, smiling at Massey.
But it wasn’t Massey. A filthy man grabbed her, wrapping his strong arms tight and holding her arms against her body. She kicked at him, but couldn’t seem to get in a hard blow. He laughed, and she screamed.
In the shed, when he’d moved the cart from its position against the west wall, Massey had remembered something his uncle had shown him several years earlier. Leaving the cart, he’d gone to the other side of the old shed and leaned down, sweeping hay from the corner with his hand. It took several minutes, but he finally found what he was looking for: a small trap door in the floor. Pulling the recessed handle, he couldn’t help being pleased with himself. Two ammo cans filled the hole. He lifted them and put both in the cart.
Massey was just coming out of the shed with the garden cart, pushing it jauntily and grinning when he heard Stevie scream. The sound was cut off abruptly, and Massey dropped the cart handle and ran for the house.
With the back door already open, he could see into the kitchen, and what he saw made anger boil up and his heart go cold at the same time. Donnie Dunn stood over Stevie, a knife in his hand.
“I figured I’d find somebody here, but you ain’t who I was expectin’. Where’s that boy, that Barnett kid? I know it were him and his brother what killed all my friends,” the man snarled. “Tell me! Where is he?”
Massey, rifle at the ready, stepped through the door and barked, “He’s right here,” as he squeezed the trigger. Dunn stared at him, then at the blood pouring from the right side of his chest, before slumping to the floor.
Massey ran to Stevie, helping her up before checking on Dunn. He held her close for a moment, then glanced down at the man. He was still alive, and Massey grabbed the front of his shirt and demanded. “What did you mean about my brother? You think he helped us kill those thugs you ran with?”
All the fire had gone out of Dunn. He knew he didn’t have long, so he answered, “God forgive me. I knowed we was doin’ wrong when we started raidin’ folks’ houses and killin’. Yer brother wasn’t here. I don’t know where he went, but we figgered you and him was off somewhere together. I tol’ Sid we better find ya both and kill ya.”
The man stopped, trying to gather enough strength to continue. “Ol’ Sid jest laughed and said if’n y’all come to his place, you’d be sorry. If Ross ain’t with ya, where’d he go? And who helped ya kill all them fellas?”
Massey stared at him, unable to believe what he’d heard. Before he could answer, Dunn sputtered, and a narrow stream of blood ran from his mouth. His eyes glazed over, and he was gone.
“Ross is alive. Oh, dear God, he’s alive!” Massey turned to Stevie, checking her over, and asked, “Did he hurt you? Are you okay?”
She took a deep breath. “I think so. He grabbed me, and when I didn’t answer his questions, he shoved me. I tripped and fell, but I guess I was lucky. There was no broken glass on the floor right there. Who was that man?”
“That was Donnie Dunn. Remember, I told you about him. He was righthand man to Sid Pitts. We didn’t get a chance to check all the bodies at Sid’s place because Helen was hurt, and I guess I forgot about it. I’m sorry, Stevie. I shouldn’t have left you alone even for a minute.” As he spoke, he drew her into his arms and held her tight. “I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. “I’m a big girl. I got careless and wasn’t paying attention, and you can’t babysit me all the time.”
Massey kissed her temple, then released her. “It’s not babysitting. It’s protecting, and I promise, I’ll do a better job from now on.”
Stevie blushed, then asked, “What will you do about your brother? Where could he have gone?”
“I don’t know. He sneaked off to hunt sometimes, just like I did, but I wasn’t even aware he’d left the farm. I don’t know what to do, where to look, even if it was safe to be wandering around searching for him. I have no idea where to start.”
Tapping her finger on her lips, Stevie looked thoughtful. “I have an idea. Let’s find some paper and a pen.”
Fifteen minutes later, they were almost ready to leave. Massey had dragged Dunn’s body into the woods, knowing it would start to stink in a while, but the fe
ral hogs that plagued the area would soon take care of that. The thought of Dunn being food for pigs was strangely satisfying; after all, he had been about to hurt Stevie.
Massey brought the cart up to the door of the house and helped Stevie put the clothing in a big plastic trash bag they’d found under the sink. They loaded the cart, and Stevie tossed the box of trash bags in, too. Then they went to the garden shed and retrieved the things there.
Before they left the shed, Stevie went down into the bunker and taped a sheet of paper on the wall. She stepped back and looked at it, smiled, and nodded with satisfaction.
Chapter Twenty-Two
January 14-15, the studio and the Barnett farm
Instead of heading straight back to the house, Massey and Stevie took a slight detour over to the artist’s studio. In spite of Stevie’s protests, Massey told her firmly to wait in the woods while he checked it out. She frowned at him, but did as he told her.
He went in and looked around. Then he waved her in.
“It’s been a while since I was here, but Ross and I used to come watch Aunt Charlotte paint. She talked us into posing for her, too. I think that painting is hanging in her house in Jackson. She always had some cookies or snacks stashed away. I’m sure Ross will remember where she kept the cookie jar.”
Massey strode to the green cabinet and looked inside. Sure enough, there was a small cookie jar shoved to the back of the bottom shelf. Massey pulled it out, lifted the lid, and shoved a folded sheet of paper inside.
“I hope this works,” Stevie fretted.
“If he’s around, and able, I’m sure it will. Now, let’s head back. I bet Jeff and Helen are getting worried.”
Stevie moved toward the paintings leaning against the wall and picked one up to gaze at it, smiling. “They’re both worrywarts, but I’ve grown to love them. They’re good people.”
“You seem to like that picture. It’s always been one of my favorites. Would you like to have it? I’m sure Charlotte wouldn’t mind.”
“It’s too big to take with me. I do love it. Something about it just calls to my soul.”
Massey pulled a multi-tool out of his pocket and chose the screwdriver. “Allow me to show you a trick. I’ll get the canvas loose, and we’ll roll it up. When we get where we’re going, I’ll stretch it for you,”
He gently removed the staples from the canvas, then rolled the painted side of the beautiful seascape to the inside and handed it to Stevie.
“We may have a shipping tube at the house. If not, we’ll wrap it in craft paper to protect it.” Massey had barely finished speaking before he was rewarded with a kiss on the cheek and a brilliant grin from Stevie.
“Uh, we better get back, Stevie. They’ll be pacing the floor.”
When they arrived at the house, Jeff had the front door open and was ready to help carry things in. Stevie ran to check on Helen, who scolded her for taking so long.
“Do you feel up to coming to the living room, or shall I have the guys come in here? We have a story to tell you, Stevie teased.
“I’ll come there. This bed is comfy, but I need to get up and around a little. And while you tell us your story, I hope you get around to telling me why there’s blood spatter on your shirt.”
Stevie and Jeff helped Helen to a seat in the recliner, then sat on the sofa with Massey. Stevie began by describing the bunker and all the things she’d gathered for their use. Then Massey told them about the ammo cans.
“My uncle had guns and used the same caliber ammo that your guns take. He had that stash of ammo hidden in a metal box with a hinged lid, buried in the shed. I had forgotten it was there, until I went in there and was thinking about things we need. We may not be able to carry all of it, but I brought it all anyway.
“Then I heard Stevie scream.”
Helen’s head snapped up and she glared at Massey. “What did you say?”
Stevie jumped in to assure Helen. “A man got into the house after Massey left. I wasn’t paying attention, because I was busy getting us some silver coins. We’ll get back to that later. Anyway, he grabbed me and wanted to know where Massey was. I screamed, and told him where to stuff it, then he shoved me to the floor and pulled a knife. About that time, Massey rescued me.” She gestured for Massey to take up the story again.
“I recognized him immediately. It was that friend of Sid Pitts I told you about, Donnie Dunn. I shot him. He lived long enough to tell me that my brother is alive. At least, he wasn’t there when the rest of the family was killed.”
“What?!” Helen and Jeff spoke at the same time.
“Yep,” Stevie assured them. “That’s why it took so long to get back here. We had to leave messages for Ross – that’s Massey’s brother’s name – so he’ll know Massey is alive.”
Massey grinned. “Stevie had the brilliant idea of writing messages that only Ross would understand and leaving them where he’d see the first one, which would tell him in code where to look for the next one. We put one in the house and one in the bunker. Both of those said to look for Aunt Charlotte’s secret stash of sweets. Nobody around the area knew that Charlotte came here to paint. She kept to herself and worked crazy hours. We used to take her meals that Mom made, and we’d stay to visit with her. She kept cookies in a jar that was hidden in the back of a cabinet. That’s where we put the next message. It said to go to the old hideout where the outlaws holed up.”
Stevie jumped in, eager to share the clever plan. “And we put another message in a hole in a tree where they used to play outlaws and lawmen with their friends. It’s between the studio and here, so it’s very unlikely anyone else would be able to find it, even if they found the cookie jar.”
“The message in the hole,” Massey continued, “says we’re here and to be careful approaching because we’re guarding the house. He’s supposed to tap on the window of our bedroom, which, by the way, has mildew in the carpet because Ross left the window open again. Anyway, Stevie’s plan will hopefully work out. I know that he’ll go back to the bunker at some point, if he doesn’t come here first.”
“That’s very clever, Stevie. Oh, I hope he comes soon. What will you do, Massey, if he hasn’t come when we’re ready to leave?” Jeff asked.
Massey frowned. “I don’t know. How can I leave, with Ross out there? But how can I stay, missing the chance to start over somewhere else? Ross might have been alive that morning, but how can we know for sure that he’s still alive?”
“Don’t you dare give up hope, Massey,” Helen insisted, giving Jeff a warning look. “No decision has to be made right now. I’m still too weak to make the trek, we aren’t ready with a good plan for crossing the river, and who knows what the weather will do in the next few days? I believe he’ll turn up. You need to believe, too.”
“Helen,” Jeff interrupted, “I hate to change the subject, but Massey and I were wondering about something. Your wound is in a place with no major blood vessels, but you sure bled a lot for the size of the graze. Do you know of some reason that happened?”
“I have had trouble for a few years with a vitamin K deficiency. I took a K1 supplement, but since the Collapse, I haven’t been able to get any. The deficiency causes me to bruise easily and bleed more than normal.”
“Is it dangerous?” Stevie asked.
“Well, it could be, I guess. If I got stabbed or shot in a place where there are main arteries or veins, I could bleed to death. That’s one of the reasons I have the WoundSeal in my kit.”
“Speaking of your wound, how does it look today?” Massey inquired.
“Better. It’s scabbed over, and Jeff is putting tea tree oil on it. Now, if one of you would just feed me some real food, I’d get back to normal faster. Whose turn is it to cook?”
~~~~
The next day, Stevie and Massey stood guard, intermittently offering opinions and suggestions. Helen and Jeff sat in the living room, sorting through boxes of supplies that Massey had carried in from the garage, insisting that Helen would be mor
e comfortable on the sofa than she’d be on a hard kitchen chair in the cold garage.
Massey had offered Jeff his choice from the three backpacks his family had used on trips. There was another pack, but Massey told them that one belonged to Ross, and he planned to prepare it for his brother in case he showed up.
They went through the clothing from Massey’s uncle’s place first. Helen was thrilled with the wool socks, which she insisted she would share with Stevie. The boots were a little big, but with the thicker socks, Helen was sure they’d be fine. The jeans fit well, except that they were about an inch too short.
“Who cares about that? They’re in much better shape than what I was wearing, and I’m not exactly a fashion model anyway. I’m happy to have them. Stevie, those sweaters you picked out for yourself are great. They’ll be plenty warm if you put one of the long-sleeved tees underneath,”
Massey had grabbed some of his uncle’s clothing for Jeff. He chose some cargo pants, hoping the extra pockets would be useful, but brought a couple of pairs of jeans in case Jeff preferred them.
Jeff wanted the cargo pants. They were a size too big around the waist, but Massey helped him with that problem with the help of zip ties, which he fitted through the belt loops to tighten them up.
“Let’s get both pairs fitted, then you won’t have to worry about it later, Massey suggested. “If you have room, maybe you should toss in one pair of the jeans, too.”
“Nah,” Jeff decided. “I don’t want to take up too much room with clothes when I could use that space for food and ammo. It’s too bad we can’t take that garden cart across the river. We could take turns pushing it and carry a lot more.”
“You haven’t seen the ruts that thing makes. We’d be inviting trouble, even if we did figure out a way to get it across,” Massey assured him. “We’d lead every thief in the area right to our campsite.”