by Connor Mccoy
But Conrad already had leaped off his own bike and reached for Liam’s. It was now junk. There was no chance of it being useful absent some repair, and right now he didn’t even know if they’d survive another minute. So, he ran with the first thought in his head, to turn Liam’s bike into a weapon. He grabbed Liam’s bike and hurled it off the edge of the hill at the quartet below.
“Now, get the hell out of here!” Conrad yelled to Liam and Carla. “Liam, take my ride!”
“But Dad—” Liam began.
“Liam, don’t worry!” Carla gripped her handlebars. “I have an idea. Take his bike, now.”
Conrad pulled out his gun. He didn’t know what the lady had in mind, but if it saved Liam, that’s all that mattered.
Below, the bike had landed on the other side of the four men, who must have stood up to avoid it. But they didn’t look angry. They seemed more annoyed than anything else. “Hey!” The bald man jabbed a finger in Conrad’s direction. “You ride bikes, dumbshit! You don’t throw them!”
The tall man aimed his gun back up the hill. “Don’t worry, I’ll get him!”
He fired, but this time the shot didn’t even get anywhere near the target. It pelted the ground a few feet away from Conrad.
These bastards must be drunk, Conrad thought. Picking them off should be easy. But when Conrad aimed his .45 down the hill, overwhelming nausea gripped him. Suddenly his hand shook. Cold sweat poured down his face. He was almost paralyzed. Then, he realized, he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t gun down another human being.
“What’s he doing?” asked the man in the torn blue shirt.
The bald man frowned. “Does he have a gun?”
The tall man raised his gun again. “Well if he’s packing, I say we drop him and drop him good. It’s not fun when they shoot back.”
Conrad’s legs shook. Run! Now!
He turned and fled in the direction of his son and Carla. Behind him, gunshots ricocheted off rocks and trees. The loud pops sounded too close for comfort.
For a moment, he couldn’t find Liam or Carla. Another hill blocked his view. He looked for anything, tire tracks, shoe prints, anything to indicate their path.
“Dad!” Liam remerged on the east side of the hill. “Over here!”
A shot then struck the earth between Liam and Conrad. Climbing over that hill would expose him. Instead, Conrad ducked and dashed along the side of the hill until he reached its farthest end. Then, he looked up. Liam was kneeling, hand outstretched.
He took his son’s hand. Liam helped hoist his father up the rest of the way. The strength in Liam’s grip was impressive. Conrad would have felt prouder if he had time to think, instead of fleeing for his life. His heart raced so fast it sounded like it was in his ears.
Liam led Conrad onto fairly level ground. Up ahead was a red brick building off the side of a narrow road. Carla was waving to them from a yawning doorway. Their remaining bikes rested inside the structure, just beyond the door.
“Carla said she spotted this earlier!” Liam called as they ran.
The gunshots were fading in the distance. It seemed that the men weren’t even bothering to give chase. Conrad didn’t get it. These men didn’t seem eager to rob them for food or supplies. Hell, one of them was so stupid as to shoot out a bike tire, taking out a valuable piece of transportation. They just were looking to have fun. This all was just a game to them. In a world with no police, no firemen, and no governing authorities in sight, who’s to say some people wouldn’t decide just to do whatever they wanted? It’s like when the lights went out across the world, some people felt free to become Neanderthals.
Conrad’s thoughts helped take his mind off the burning in his thighs and the thumping of his heart, not to mention his failure to pull the trigger. Perhaps he was too old, mentally and physically, for this world.
By now Conrad and Liam reached the open door. The building seemed old on the outside, but the door was new. There was little evidence of rust or corrosion on it.
“Come on! I’ll shut it!” Carla took hold of the door.
Father and son made it in. Carla quickly slammed the door shut. Once inside, Conrad spotted a large steel bolt attached to a slider on the door. He and Liam then took hold of it and ran it into the open lock.
Conrad laid against the wall. His knees nearly buckled. Beside him, his son wiped his forehead.
“Are you two okay?” Conrad asked in a hoarse, weak voice.
“We didn’t take any shots.” Liam coughed before speaking again. “And you?”
“I think I lost a few years off my ticker, but I’m in one piece.” Conrad patted himself just to be sure he didn’t take any shots.
Tall windows shone enough sunlight on this place to get a good look around. The room was a mess of empty tables, metal stands that likely had held a machine of some kind, but instead were barren, and one empty metal cart stood near the door. Conrad leaned over it. The bottom was lined with a layer of soot and small rocks.
“This looks like a place to process ore.” Conrad walked toward the center of the room.
The windows all were encased in bars with peeling white paint. One of the windows had been outfitted with an outdoor air conditioning unit that likely didn’t work anymore. “The miners would bring in their loads from the dig. There were machines here to break up the ore. This place might have been in operation God knows how many years ago.”
Liam turned to the door behind them. “The door looks new. Guess they were refurbishing this place for new use.”
Another door lay at the end of the processing chamber. It was smaller and had a traditional doorknob and keyhole. Conrad tried to turn the knob. “Locked,” he said.
Carla knelt down in front of the door. “Let me take a crack at it.” Then she fished a needle out of her pocket and stuck it into the door’s keyhole. From there, she carefully turned it one way, then the other.
Conrad’s eyes widened. She was picking the lock. Liam looked just as startled at his wife’s skills. Carla then stood back. From there, she turned the knob, opening the door with a loud squeak that suggested it needed serious oiling. Conrad quickly stepped forward before Carla opened it all the way.
“Allow me.” Then he walked in first without hesitation.
He didn’t know if anyone had gone in first and locked the door behind them. If trouble reared its head, he’d be the first to take it. The room was smaller, actually mostly barren. If furniture had been in here, it all had been packed up and moved out some time ago. A hot, dusty smell cut through the air. It felt like a place that hadn’t been opened up in a while.
Then Conrad kicked something. He looked down. His boot had caught an old white sheet. He leaned over and picked it up as Liam and Carla stepped into the room. Then he turned to the side. There was a set of hooks along the wall. On one of them hung a pair of blue denim coveralls that had several holes in it.
“This must be where the miners bunked out,” Conrad said. “Would have been nice if they had left us some beds.” He tossed the sheet aside.
Liam looked back into the processing room. “I don’t hear them anymore.”
“We’ll have to check this place out,” Conrad said, “Look for any window that could be opened.”
Suddenly, Conrad stopped.
Moving shadows cut through the sunlight. Conrad held out his arm, stopping Liam and Carla before they moved any farther into the window’s line of sight. Conrad took a step closer so he could see. The four men were walking slowly by, casting a glance into the window, but not stopping to look inside.
Fresh sweat dripped down Conrad’s face. These maniacs weren’t acting like before. They were quiet, almost sneaky in the way they moved. They turned their heads to look ahead and then off to the side. They were hunters now.
“Dad?” Liam asked.
Conrad nodded. “I think it’s best we stay away from the windows, even if they are barred.”
Conrad slammed the facility’s bathroom door shut. Not that he
was surprised, but he discovered there was no running water here, so he instructed Liam and Carla to use the disposable bags they brought along for their body waste.
As he strolled down the small hall that led to the processing chamber, he heard something heavy fall to the floor. His heart quickened. Did those bastards find a way in? He hurried to the facility’s processing room.
“Liam?” he called out as he emerged into the large room.
But there were no signs of a disturbance. Instead, his son was at one of the tables, rummaging through the tools. A sledgehammer lay on the ground, inches from Liam’s left boot. The young man was clutching a pickaxe.
Conrad approached him. “Would have been nasty if that hammer had smashed your toe. Whatcha looking for?”
Liam studied the tool in his hands. “Just, something.”
“Something as in what? You need a tool?”
Liam grimaced. “A-a weapon.”
“Weapon?” Conrad glanced at the tools on the table. They consisted of hammers, chisels, scalpels, and a couple of pickaxes of varying sizes. Some of these were quite heavy, and Conrad couldn’t imagine wielding one.
“Yeah.” Liam held the pickaxe level. Then he made a gentle cut through the air.
“That looks a little heavy to me,” Conrad said. “Look, if you get in a fight, you need something light and sharp, and something you can swing around quickly. Anything that weighs you down, it’s your ass. You still have that knife I gave you before we left, remember?”
Turning his back to his father, Liam bowed his head. “I’m sorry about the gun. I’m sorry I lost it!” He looked as if he had been bottling this in for a while.
So, that was it. Conrad realized they hadn’t dealt with the issue of Liam dropping his firearm during the tussle with the feral dogs. “Looking for a substitute, aren’t you?”
“Dad, I want to find Mom so badly, but I screwed up out there, and we’re not even in Redmond yet. You’re probably embarrassed.”
Pacing around to face Liam, Conrad scratched his chin. “Well, there were better things you could have done than drop that gun.” Then he quickly smiled to show he was joking. The truth was he was plenty pissed when Liam had lost the gun, but after his own failure to shoot back at the men below the hill, he was feeling much more forgiving.
“Besides, I can replace a gun. Can’t do the same for you.” Then he flashed Liam a glare. “Still, you will have to work it off at the ranch. Now, no backtalk. You’re going to learn how to milk some goats. It’ll come in handy when that kid of yours is born.”
Liam laughed. “Thanks, Dad.”
Conrad then picked up one of the scalpels. “Now, this is good for a tool. Let’s check around for the lightweight stuff. We may get a few useful souvenirs out of this place.”
Liam picked it up. “Dad, I want to talk to you some more. It’s not just that I lost the gun. Carla, she’s—”
“Hey you two!” Carla stuck her head out of the door leading to the bunks. “Dinner’s ready!”
Liam turned to look over Conrad’s shoulder. “Great!” Then he flashed a quick look at his dad. “Maybe later.”
Conrad watched his son hurry off, wondering what else Liam had on his mind. It occurred to him that, as easy as it had been to chat with his boy, Liam still had twenty-five years of life that Conrad didn’t know about. It would be a while, a long while, before Conrad truly could say he knew his son.
Conrad held up his hand to the lantern’s flame, with Carla beside him. Liam was peeking through the window. The sun had fully set, leaving the group with no light other than what they could provide themselves.
“You probably won’t even see them even if they’re out there,” Carla said to Liam.
“I see mostly dark shapes out there. Nothing’s moving.” Liam tapped one of the window’s bars. “But they could be just over a hill and we wouldn’t see them.”
Carla rubbed her hands. “They didn’t look like a bunch of geniuses to me, so I’m sure they can’t get in.”
Conrad eyed Liam as the young man rejoined the group. “Think you can bet a good night’s sleep on that?” Conrad asked.
“We can secure the door,” Liam said as he sat down. “Between the main door, and that door over there, that’s two obstacles to get through.”
Carla’s smile evidenced her confidence, though Conrad wasn’t so sure. It all depended on how dedicated these ruffians were to get them. “To be sure, we’ll have to lay low. If we must put on a light, keep it away from the windows,” he said.
“So, what do we do in the morning?” Carla asked, “I mean, if those guys are totally gone?”
“We’re down one bike,” Liam said. “So, we’re stuck on foot.”
“Bikes are almost as common as apples,” Conrad said. “We’ll check around town, find you some new wheels.”
Liam scratched his neck. “But Dad, what if all the bikes are gone? Maybe their owners took them to flee town, or they’re all locked up so they don’t get stolen.”
“Or maybe they got all snatched up already,” Carla added.
“Don’t worry. If we don’t find any wheels, I’ll come up with something else,” Conrad said.
There was little more to be said. Conrad put himself against the wall while Liam and Carla cozied up underneath a single blanket.
Conrad smiled. “You want me to turn my head?”
Liam chuckled. “No, Dad, we’re good.” Then he stood up. “Do you want me to stand watch?”
Conrad shook his head. “I don’t know if I’m up for sleeping. You’ll find that sleep won’t come all that easy out here on the road.”
Liam nodded. “I know. I guess being hunted will do that to you.”
That, and nearly killing a man, Conrad thought. But he would not tell his boy about his anxieties. Instead he smiled and said, “Get yourself some sleep.”
Chapter Eight
Conrad’s eyes opened. Thin sunlight struck his face. Damn, it’s morning, he thought. After the uneasiness of the early evening hours, he was stunned that he had fallen asleep and stayed that way for so long. He figured he’d still be propped up against the window, gazing outside for any sign that the four men would try breaking into the building. The security of the bolted door perhaps calmed his worries.
He rose, but a slight ache in his back jolted him. Or it’s probably age, he said to himself. Despite making a living with his hands, the limits of age were starting to tax him. In the weeks before the solar-fueled EMP had struck, he had been taking short naps at least once a day. He also had been crashing on almost any surface, such as his easy chair or his sofa. By contrast, while he was in his thirties and forties, he had trouble sleeping anywhere but his own bed.
Conrad made a fist and flexed his arm. Actually, it also might be the cumulative effects of yesterday’s long bike ride. He had watched Liam and Carla fall asleep, and the pair hadn’t seemed to have moved an inch during the whole night. Hopefully the night’s sleep had recharged their batteries.
He checked outside the window. The glare of the morning sun made it difficult, but he still could make out the grounds outside the building. Nothing moved. Conrad closed his eyes and listened. He heard nothing.
“Dad?”
Conrad’s eyes snapped open. “What? Liam?”
His boy stood next to him. “You okay?” Liam asked.
“Sure.” Conrad stood up, wondering if he actually had dozed off.
“Just taking a look out there. Our friends seem to have left, at least I hope.” He turned and spotted Carla, also awake, digging through her bag. “Let’s get something in our stomachs and get out of here before they come back.”
Conrad swallowed the last of the peach. He had a little breakfast left, some vegetables and fruits needed to give the body energy and protein. He sat crossed-legged, facing the window. Liam and Carla were seated behind him, exchanging slight words, but mostly eating. Carla carried more and more of the conversation. She was definitely a lively lady. Listening to he
r helped lift Conrad’s spirits, though he suspected she was harboring some sadness inside. He remembered how she was when they had chatted that night in his homestead. Conrad wondered if her life hadn’t all been wine and roses.
He looked down. His gun lay on the floor near his legs. The sight of it sank his spirits again. The firearm on the floor was a sobering reminder of his failure. He took out the clip, exposing the hollow point rounds. It seemed strange that for all the practice he had put into shooting a gun, that when the time had come, he couldn’t use it against another human being, even when that person was shooting at him and his family.
Perhaps it’s just too hard for a man who’s never killed.
He recalled a film he had enjoyed since he was a young man, a Clint Eastwood Western called Unforgiven. Eastwood’s character was a veteran gunfighter named Will Munny who had retired to a life of peace, yet events had conspired to pull him back into a life of violence. In one part of the movie, a young man named the Schofield Kid had shot a man, the first time he ever had killed a man. The experience had rattled him, and he was sitting against a tree, weeping, trying to look for justification.
Eastwood’s gunfighter mused that it was a hell of a thing to kill a man. The Kid mused that maybe such men had it coming. Munny replied that everybody’s got it coming.
Conrad sighed. Most movies made being a tough guy seem easy. But the truth was a lot harder. That movie stuck in his mind for many years. It dealt hard with the ramifications of gunning someone down and living with it.
He looked down at his rounds. Yes, if used, they would take a life, but it was worth it if they saved one or more in return. Besides, if he didn’t use this weapon, odds are his son would have to use his.
It occurred to Conrad that he never asked Liam if he had had to take a life. Perhaps since he never had used a gun, he hadn’t. But whichever, Conrad decided that if he could do it instead of his boy, he would.
He put the rounds back in the clip and reloaded his gun.