by Lou Cadle
“Can’t say I’ve ever done that,” she said. “And now I never will. There are still omelets, and there will be waffles for a year or two, but everything else about that life is gone.”
“No more champagne. That’s sad, don’t you think?” he said, and when she only shrugged, he turned around and faced front again.
Curt said, “You ever had champagne?”
“Twice,” she said. “At a wedding and once at home. Pilar and Lisette were celebrating a year living together. Or maybe it was six months. I didn’t see the big deal about champagne. But it’s better than beer.”
Tad turned again. “Did you drink much? Before all this?”
“Not really. I got drunk exactly once on some sweet wine, but I woke up with my head hurting so badly, I never did it again.”
Curt said, “Do you worry about Lisette?”
Sierra was ashamed to admit it, but she didn’t. “No. I think of my mother sometimes, and wonder how it is where she’s living.”
Tad faced the rear seat again. “Where is she?”
“Bhutan, the last I heard.”
“I’m not even sure where that is,” Wes said.
“Asia, by India. A long way from here,” Sierra said. “I haven’t seen her in person since I was a little kid.”
The road to the burned-out neighborhood appeared, and Wes turned into it and up the driveway to the house. There were shopping bags lined up—the harvest from the neighborhood gardens, Sierra supposed.
Kelly hurried to the car and gave her a hug as she emerged. “Ow. You’re lumpy.”
“And she hurt herself,” Curt said.
“Tattletale,” Sierra grumbled.
“Where? What?” Kelly said.
“A very minor and silly wound.”
Kelly kept frowning and looked her up and down.
She sighed. “I stapled myself.”
Now Kelly looked confused. “Why’d you do that?” she said.
“Not on purpose!”
“Let me take a look at it.”
Sierra took a step to the side. “It’s nothing.”
Arch walked up. “So? Mission accomplished?”
Wes said, “We’re almost certain that yes, it was. They were on a street where we’d left flyers, and they seemed agitated.”
“Excellent,” Arch said. “So we’re good to go tomorrow night?”
Sierra nodded and grinned at him.
Tad said, “I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m going to try and sleep after lunch, so I can switch up my sleep patterns. Tomorrow, I want to be able to stay up all night if we need to.”
Francie walked up with two big sacks. “This is the last of the harvest for now. We didn’t take everything, in case someone from Payson does want to move up here. Which bag do you want, Kelly?”
“Either is good. You choose.”
Arch said, “We’ll see how it goes down there before we offer any homes up here to anyone.”
“Of course, dear,” Kelly said. “Besides, they aren’t our homes to offer. As far as we know, someone in town is related to the people who lived here and will stake a claim.”
Wes said, “Anything else we need to discuss now?”
Arch said, “I don’t think so. Curt? Sierra?”
Sierra was pleased he’d asked her. “We’re good to go. Meeting on the forest road by your place at six-thirty tomorrow evening, Wes?”
“Gives us plenty of time. Don’t forget your night vision gear.”
“We won’t,” said Arch.
They drove home. Kelly said, “Nobody say anything to Dev about tomorrow evening until I have a chance to check him out today. If he knows something is up, he’ll lie about how he feels.”
Sierra said, “So you’re going to let him go?”
“If he’s truly feeling okay, yes,” Kelly said. “We certainly can’t keep it from him when we leave, since we’re both going.”
“You are?” Sierra said.
Arch said, “I told the others I’ll guard the road back up to both our neighborhoods. I can fire the Glock just fine for short periods, and accurately. I think I can keep anyone from getting past me.”
Kelly said, “And he wants to be there to negotiate at the end. You know, if everything goes as planned.”
“Sure,” Sierra said. “So it’ll be who going?”
“All three in our family, you, Curt, and Joan because she’s from town,” Kelly said. “Your dad is going to hold the fort back home, if he agrees.”
“With Rudy,” Arch said.
“He’ll be busy herding the kids,” Kelly said. “So it’s all on your dad’s head, Sierra.”
Sierra was worried. Was her father physically up to defending the whole neighborhood? “I hope no one attacks while we’re gone.”
“If someone does, it’ll be from up the hill, not down,” Arch said. “That’s part of why I’ll be where I plan to be. If a car gets by me, I’ll follow it and support your dad if it comes for our place.”
They pulled off the highway and told her to go home. Sierra said to the Quinns, “Hope Dev is okay,” and headed home. Because no matter what kind of war they were planning, she still had hens to care for.
“Wait up, Sierra,” Curt said.
She slowed, and he caught up.
“I don’t mean to overstep, but you going to be okay with that Tad?”
“I’m sorry?” She didn’t understand what he meant.
“I mean, with him coming on to you.”
“He was?” She stopped dead and stared at Curt.
“Well, yeah. I think your taking your clothes off sort of snapped him into awareness of you, if he wasn’t already aware.”
“I did not take my clothes off,” she said. “I was perfectly well covered.”
Curt shrugged.
“And we were running an operation. I mean, what kind of idiot thinks of sex at a time like that?”
“Well, you know. Breasts and all.”
“Breasts? Good gods. What the hell is wrong with men anyway?” She was out of patience. “They’re just tits. Meant to feed babies. What is your obsession with them? Why do so many guys see me as a walking pair of tits or an ass? With an inconvenient mouth and brain attached to them? Huh?” She poked a finger in his face.
Curt backed up and raised his hands. “Hey, now.”
“I mean, do I stare at your tits all the time? Do I? Sheesh. And besides, he’s like a hundred.”
Curt was fighting a laugh, she could tell. “Thirty-five, I’d guess.”
“And he’s a conceited jerk.”
“No argument from me on that.”
“And I can take care of myself. Shit’s sake, I shoot someone almost every week.”
“I don’t think you can shoot a man for flirting,” Curt said.
“Hit him in the head with the rifle butt then. Whatever.”
“Sorry I brought it up,” he said, raising his hands palms out, as if surrendering.
“Me too. Now it’ll distract me. No, it won’t. I’ll make sure I’m not with him tomorrow night. I’ll tell Arch and Wes to assign us to different streets or whatever.”
Pilar came up. He must have been walking guard duty. “Is something wrong?”
“No,” she said. “I’m just irritated over something stupid.”
Pilar said, “Curt?” There was a hint of warning in his voice.
Curt shook his head.
“He didn’t do anything,” Sierra said to Pilar, getting herself under control. Time to change the subject. “I wonder about tomorrow night. I mean, we only have forty-five minutes or so between meeting up with the others and sunset. Is that enough time to make a sensible attack plan?”
Curt said, “They probably were talking about it while we were in town. Over the harvesting job.”
“That go okay?” Pilar asked. “Not harvesting. I mean the raid.”
“Fine. Not so much as a scary moment,” she assured him. Then she turned to Curt. “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”
“I was just the bearer of bad news, I suppose.”
“Yeah. Not even bad news. A silly distraction from the real work of today.”
“I’ll consider the matter closed then,” Curt said, and walked on down the road.
Pilar said, “What was all that about?”
Sierra shook her head. “Nothing.”
“I heard you screaming about ‘tits,’ so if there’s a problem with Curt….”
“No, no. Nothing like that. It’s just that guy Tad. Curt said he was flirting with me, and I didn’t know. I don’t want it, and I overreacted to hearing it.”
“Tad was talking about your breasts?” Pilar’s face was growing red.
“No. He was talking about—hell, I don’t even know. Champagne with breakfast was the only thing I remember him saying that could vaguely be taken as flirtation. I mean, nothing really. I guess Curt saw something in him that I didn’t.”
“Hmm,” Pilar said, looking at Curt’s retreating back.
“Hmm, meaning what?” She felt herself getting irritated again.
“I assume you can handle it?” he said.
“Of course. I mean, not to sound full of myself, but I’ve shut down guys before. I have some experience at it.”
“I’m sure you have.” He paused, seemed to weigh his next words, and then said, “But you know....”
“What?”
“If we’re going to be allies with that other neighborhood, then you’ll be exposed to more young men. And if we can liberate Payson, even more. You might want to see young men. To date. That’s a good thing.”
“Sure, I—” A thought struck her. “You thinking of getting back together with that Francie?”
“No. No, not at all. There were good reasons we broke up. Besides, I still am in love with Lisette a little. I’m not ready for another relationship.”
“I’m sorry. I’m really not a very good daughter to you, am I? I don’t think about her much, which is bad enough. But I don’t think about how you might be feeling at all.”
“I just hope she’s okay. She was going to leave me anyway. But she was out there, not at home, when gas ran out. It could have been bad for her.”
“I wish there was some way to contact her,” Sierra said. “Or the friends she was staying with.”
“But there isn’t. Even if you saved the gas for a trip like that, or used the electric car and had a place to top off the battery at the other end, a known source of power...someone would probably carjack you before you arrived.” He shook his head. “It’s a new world. At this point, it ends about thirty miles from home.”
“Or less.”
“Or less. But for dating purposes, for you, thirty miles.”
“That’s if we succeed tomorrow. One step at a time.”
“Is that the talk about invading Payson? Tomorrow?”
“It’s on for the night. I’m sure our group will meet later today, or tomorrow morning, and Arch will lay it out for everyone.” Her father had been updated on their hopes while she made the flyers.
“You’ll be very, very careful, won’t you? It’s one thing to dash in and out of the edges of town. It’s quite another to storm a well-defended place. Fending off frightened families looking for food has been easy compared to fighting well-armed men on their own turf.”
“We did okay here the other day.”
“There’ll be more men in Payson. And they may have better weapons there. Hell, they could have rocket launchers or machine guns or anything. You be careful.”
“I will,” she said. “I wonder what they’ll assign me to do. I hope it’s good.”
Chapter 8
The next day, after Sierra and the others were done with morning chores, the seven of them met about attacking Payson and who would stay behind to defend the neighborhood. Dev had caught wind of the plan somehow and insisted he was healthy enough to go along on the action to liberate the town. It had been Kelly who’d come up with the most interesting idea: what if they tried to break some of the Payson men out of jail to help. They even had extra guns to distribute, the ones they’d taken off the men they’d killed a few days ago.
When they had talked everything over, Arch drove to the other neighborhood alone to talk about it with the others, a white flag flapping from the rear window in a pre-arranged signal.
After cleaning up from the lunch her father had made for the two of them, Sierra went over to Joan’s to see if Rudy needed any help with the little kids. As she walked into the yard, she jerked back in surprise when she saw Emily outside. She was tying the shoes of the littlest kid, the girl the man had carried around as a human shield. The little girl ran off when her shoes were tied, and as she began to interact with another child, Sierra felt a moment of relief. The little one seemed to be recovering from her ordeal. She was smiling. Rudy led the kids off toward the woods and Emily stayed behind and watched them, no smile on her face.
Misha was also left behind, and she looked longingly at the children as they marched off in Rudy’s wake. When she turned to see Sierra, she brightened. She ran up. “I have to stay at home and work, Mom says.”
“Makes sense. You have a lot of mouths to feed. They depend on you.”
“Will you help me collect eggs? I’m still afraid of the hens.”
“Where’s your mom?”
“On guard.”
“It’s very grown-up of you to do what she says. Where’s Rudy going with the kids?”
“He’s teaching them about the woods, he said. He said he’s part Indian. Do you think that’s true?”
“Could be.” She walked toward Emily and smiled at her. “Hi, Emily. It’s good to see you out. Do you want to help with the eggs?”
Emily shook her head and turned for the house. It was an improvement in her behavior. She didn’t run but walk. She didn’t smile, but she didn’t look quite as terrified as she had. She made it to the deck and then turned and raised her hand in farewell.
To Misha, Sierra said, “Has she been spending time in the closet a lot?”
“Not much. When it gets noisy in there, she does.”
“That many extra people must make it crowded.”
“It does!” Misha said. “But Mom says we have to be nice. They’ve been through a hard time and we need to make a home for them for now.”
“After tomorrow, some of them might be able to go home to their families.”
“All of them?”
“We don’t know for sure.”
“I kind of would miss them. It’s like being in school again.”
“I hadn’t thought of you being lonely like that,” Sierra said, but she probably had been feeling isolated, especially with her sister locking herself in a closet. “Ready to check the hens? I want to start with the nesting bird.”
Jasper loped along at Misha’s side while the girl asked questions. “Isn’t the hen going to be mean?”
“Maybe a little, but only to me. I won’t make you do anything. I want to check her eggs.”
“Why?”
“To make sure the chicks are all still healthy in there.”
“How do you do that?”
“I’ll show you. But you have to promise not to try it on your own. I don’t want you pecked.” She also didn’t want her driving the hen off the nest or harming the eggs. Fertile eggs had never seemed so precious before. When the Payson raid was done—if she survived it—she’d have to get a couple of her own hens on a nest so the chicks could be used in trade with the other neighborhood.
Inside the musty coop, she found Mitch’s egg candler. At home, they used an LED flashlight, but Mitch had gone top-drawer with everything he bought. “This will be the last time we need to check them,” she said to Misha.
“Why are you checking?”
“To see if there are any quitters.”
“Quitters?”
“Chicks that quit developing. If you leave those eggs, they’ll go bad. You don’t want them smelling bad or contaminating
the nest.”
“You mean they die? Inside the egg?”
“They can.” Sierra had seen one egg the last time she candled that she thought was not going to make it, but she’d check every one today. You never knew. “We need to make sure none are cracked and that we can see the little guys in there.”
“Will they look like chicks? Are they cute?”
“Not very.” She approached the brooding hen and made soothing noises even before she opened the brood box. The hen made a curious sound. Sierra snuck her hand under the hen and pulled out the first egg before the hen knew what was going to happen. There was a slot in the candler. She flipped the device on and put the egg into the slot, then held it out for Misha to look at. “See? This is a good egg. That dark part is the chick, and those lines are blood vessels. We’ll put it back and work around the nest.”
“Wow,” she said.
One by one, she checked out the eggs. One hadn’t developed, and she put it aside. Another had the telltale blood ring of a quitter. She showed it to Misha and explained.
“It died?” Misha said. She sounded upset.
Sierra thought it was odd that she could be upset at the death of a chick hen so many had died this summer, so many people and dogs and cats and horses. Of course, Misha didn’t know that, did she? She hadn’t seen much violence firsthand. She hadn’t had to shoot anyone. Her mother and sister had experienced violence firsthand, but not Misha.
Sierra found herself mildly irritated at that. How could anyone have been so protected? But then a part of her was relieved, relieved that Misha had been spared what had happened to Emily, or what had happened to the kids Rudy was babysitting. Maybe that part of what she felt was what her father felt about her. On the other hand, Misha was ten years old. Sierra was grown. You couldn’t keep a person ten years old forever.
These days, trying to protect a kid from all knowledge would be a dangerous choice, so Sierra didn’t hesitate to tell Misha the chick had died. “These bad ones go into your compost bin. Here, you take them out there. Don’t forget to close the gate.” She put the last good egg back under the hen and told her she was a good girl. She always did, though hens weren’t probably smart enough to understand praise or insult. She found the wire basket, and when Misha came back, she made her do all the egg collecting herself, pushing her to do the work despite her nervousness around the hens.