by N A Broadley
His gut roiled queasily with worry and memories of Talia, his younger sister. The past rammed at his brain. For the first time in his life, he felt helpless, inadequate, and defeated. How could he save a young girl—risking both Sarah’s and Rose’s life, never mind Spike’s and his own? For what?
There were hundreds of girls in the same situation. He couldn’t save them all. And why should he? In this new world, there was no saving anyone. Just existing and surviving. And honestly, it wasn’t up to him to save everyone.
The thought of the little girl weighed heavily on his shoulders, and he rolled them to ease the pain. He was one man. One man! Anger clawed at him. Anger at the world, the situation, and mostly at himself for getting caught up in this mess. He was torn inside because at the same time, he knew he couldn’t and wouldn’t walk away. Sarah, Beth? Somehow, they became his responsibility. From the first time he set eyes on the two of them he knew his fate was sealed and he’d die to protect them.
“See? I told ya…you are a chump, boy!” his father whispered deep in his mind.
“No, Dad, I’m just human,” he replied, rubbing his hand over his burning, tired eyes. “Just human.”
He walked back to the group. Spike met his eyes and nodded.
“I think we’ve come up with a solution, Brian.”
Brian nodded, listening.
“We can’t possibly go back. As much as I want to bring down the hounds of hell on those bastards, it would be a suicide mission. You do know we just took Bobby’s toys, and he ain’t one to share. I ain’t keen on getting my ass handed to me on a platter,” Spike said then smiled crookedly, “But, I think if we ride hard tonight, we can reach the compound by dawn. We can gather up all the men that Roger can spare, take the road back and plant ourselves in the woods.”
Brian tilted his head slightly. “Go on.”
“Bobby is lazy; we saw that from the haphazard way his men guarded the town. I’m betting he’ll ride the road looking for us. This time we’ll be ready! We ambush them the same way they did us. And this time, we will leave no survivors! We take the whole group down, then once we’re done; we free that friggin town for good!”
Brian looked at Sarah and Rose. Did they agree? He saw by the nods of their heads they did. Breathing a sigh of relief, he nodded. “Okay, let’s ride then.”
Chapter Five
Beth sat at the table. Her body hurt, but the warm spring sunshine eased the pain a little. She turned her face up to the sun, closing her eyes, to enjoy its warmth. The smell of coffee wafted on a slight breeze, enticing her. The compound that Roger had built loomed large before her. It was just this simple; life would go on place.
With the sun’s warming rays came hope, but also, thoughts about how stupid she’d been. She was an Emergency Responder; she should have been better prepared. But then again, how do you prepare for something like this? Her mind was foggy, and her head spun from the pain medication. Her thoughts were scattered, like leaves in the wind, making it hard for her to capture one and keep it.
She’d attended all the classes; emergency response, critical response, and such. She believed the CDC and the government talking heads when they broadcasted over the airwaves that they would get a handle on this unknown virus. She purchased all the personal protection equipment, PPE for short; planning for herself and her family. They relied on the information the media gave out; it was wrong, and they failed to use it in time. It was too late. A tear, warm and wet, slid from behind her closed eyes and made a damp track down her cheek.
It made sense the way the cards fell. First, the power went down. She assumed it happened because there was no one left to run the power plants. Then services went down. No hospitals, no road crews to plow the roads, no ambulance service, no long-distance truckers to bring in the food. One cascade of failures after another.
Could it have been bioterrorism? Or perhaps some unknown person came through the loose borders of the United States and unknowingly brought it with them? Or maybe, even worse, the terrifying thought that their own government; a government that they trusted, unleashed this hell on its citizens. She would probably never know.
Her hip burned, the pain at times was almost unbearable. Even still, she was glad to be up and out of the infirmary, even if just for a few hours. She would be on crutches for the next three weeks, and she looked at the wooden things with a hateful glare. From what Doc said, the bullet had lodged itself deep into her hip, shattering the bone. Brian had carried her to the compound where Doc, Marcus Linsler, performed the surgery to remove the bullet and tied her back together with nuts and bolts. Jill, her nurse, also told her Brian spent days planning for the rescue and nights sitting at her bedside; waiting for her to wake up.
Jill looked at her with a wistful expression and a grin. “You’re lucky to have a man like that.”
Beth didn’t know much of Jill’s story other than she was divorced. The marriage ended just before the virus hit, leaving Jill single and longing for someone to share her life.
Beth gazed out toward the horizon and wrinkled her brow. Roger followed her gaze and shook his head. “He’ll be back. Soon.”
“I hope so. I am so damn mad at him!” she hissed.
Roger grimaced and glanced at her. “Why?”
“Because he should have gone right away to get Sarah! Why didn’t he? Why did he wait four days before rescuing her?” She agonized as her eyes implored Roger for an answer. She saw him shake his head and mutter under his breath.
“Woman, have you always been this hard-headed? Good, God! That man is risking his life to get Sarah back! Spike, my grandson, is risking his life!”
Beth felt a flush of shame spread over her cheeks, and she bowed her head.
“I know, but they should have left sooner.”
Roger turned on her angrily.
“He wanted to! He was insane with rage and grief! I talked him out of it! And you wanna know why? Because if he left half-cocked, then he and Sarah both would have been killed! We needed time to let Bobby’s gang feel like they pulled the ambush off, to think that we were not going to retaliate. To let them think they hurt us enough that we were hiding, scared of them!
We needed time for them to get careless. And we needed time to plan and prepare; to watch and see whether or not that gang of thugs would attack here! So yes, Brian could have turned right around and chased them down trying to get Sarah back, but I guarantee you, they both would be dead right now.”
Although she hated to admit it, Roger was right. She would have made the mistake of rushing headlong into the lion's den to save Sarah, and it would have cost her both of their lives. She’d always had a bad temper, hot and quick, and this often led her into doing things she would later regret.
Sighing tiredly, she looked at Roger and nodded. “You are right. I hate it, but it’s true.”
It had been days since Brian left—days of worry and waiting. What was Sarah going through? Was she dead? Did they hurt her? Did Brian find her yet? The not knowing chewed at her gut like a hungry rat. She absently fiddled with a stray lock of her hair that had slipped from the elastic band, winding it around her fingers.
Roger slid his arm from the sling and wincing, picked up her dirty gun from the table. He saw flecks of dried mud on the barrel. “Looks like this gun could use a little cleaning.”
Beth laughed softly and turned her face to his.
“Cleaning? I’ve only fired it twice, and on one shot I missed. I barely know how to shoot it, never mind clean it.”
Roger grinned and shook his head. “Woman! I guess I’d better be teaching you how to clean your gun.”
Beth nodded. There was so much she needed to learn, and cleaning the gun was only the tip of it. She grimaced. The air smelled strongly of warm soil and sunshine, and Beth breathed in deeply, filling her lungs. May, the month of flowers blooming and green growth. With an expression of confusion, she looked at Roger.
“Have we missed Memorial Day?” Roger shook his
head, and she sighed. Sadness floated across her heart. Memories of past Memorial Holiday weekends crowded her mind, and a single tear slid down her face. With a swipe of her hand, she brushed it away.
A sigh of sadness escaped her lips. Would there be a Memorial Day in the future of America now?
Tears filled her eyes, and she sniffled. With another quick brush of her hand, she wiped them away angrily. Why did she suddenly feel so emotional? What was going on? She hardly ever cried. Not much rattled her emotions. Stubbornly she bit her bottom lip and willed away the nostalgia. She averted her gaze when Roger looked deeply into her eyes.
“Talk to me.”
Hiccoughing, she shrugged her shoulders and turned to face him. She waved her arm around. It angered her that he saw her tears. In her mind, tears meant weakness.
“This!” she motioned to the gun. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know anything about surviving this! I have no experience to draw from. I can’t preserve foods; I don’t know the first thing about defenses or digging a well or hunting or any of the things that will help me survive. Will there ever be any more holidays? Or is that a thing of the past? How about birthdays, and Christmases, and picnics in the park? All gone, and I hate this new world! It’s a wonder I’ve lasted this long,” she spat out in a single breath. She pushed her backpack away with an angry shove and crossed her arms in defiance of their new world.
Roger smiled empathetically and gave her a one-armed hug. “Oh, girl. Do you think we were born with this knowledge? Do you think Mary Anne knew how to preserve food and run a homestead? No. These are all things that we learned, and they are teachable to those who want to learn. You’ve done the best you could, and now that you know better, you can do better. We’ll teach you.” And with that, he began to show her how to clean her gun.
She watched him take apart her gun while he explained to her the process of cleaning it.
“First, this gun is a Smith and Wesson 642, so it’ll be a simple and straightforward process.”
Beth nodded and watched as he spun the barrel to check for shells.
“Once you’ve determined it is not loaded, you can then take a bit of solvent on a clean cloth and swab the barrel like this,” he said, using a thin rod to push up through the barrel, “and then do the same to each cylinder. Lastly, use light oil and swab again,” he said as he finished cleaning the gun for her. Grinning, he handed her back her gun with a satisfied expression.
Beth grinned. It looked easy enough to do.
“Now, every once in a while, you will need to remove the grip and the plate to deep clean the guts of this thing, but that doesn’t need doing every time.”
“Beth, your gun is a tool. And to keep your tools in operating condition, you need to be sure to do this every once in a while. You don’t want to have to use the gun only to find out it is misfiring because of neglect.”
She thought about the only time she fired it, and this thought sent shivers down her spine.
Thinking of this made her wonder what Brian and Spike were facing. Bobby’s gang had caught them with their guard down. Hit them hard out on the road and from what she remembered of the fight; he brought at least twenty men with him. What odds were facing Brian and Spike?
“Roger? Why didn’t you send men along to help Brian and Spike?”
Roger grimaced and turned his face into the sun. The day grew long, and he sighed. He was tired, plain and simply exhausted. He rubbed his thumb lightly across the wood of the picnic table while he pondered her question.
“Brian wanted one week to get in and get Sarah. I promised I’d give him that. He feared if we rode in there, this Bobby guy would kill Sarah before we even got the chance to get close. But I will tell you this. If Spike and Brian are not back soon? I’m gonna break my promise and head out first thing in the morning. Come hell or high water; we are going to wipe that miserable scourge from the face of this earth. We need to get Sarah clear first though. And once she’s back here and safe? Then, let’s just say, Bobby and his gang will not be terrorizing anyone anymore.”
Beth nodded. A feeling of dread overcame her. They were facing war. Never could she have dreamed that the citizens of the United States; her friends, her neighbors, would be fighting against each other. Hell, in her wildest imaginings she would never have thought that life would come to this.
Turning her eyes to Roger, she shook her head. “Do you think it will ever get back to normal?”
Roger nodded, and he shifted his gaze to four-year-old Kayla, who played with a sand bucket and a shovel in the dirt of the yard. Her brown hair shone in the sunlight, her happy chatter reaching his ears. Her parents were victims of the virus. She came to them by way of a neighbor—dirty, hungry, and sick from a rat bite. The neighbors had heard her cries and found her in the barn at her parents’ house and had rescued her. She became everyone’s child, but truly, she belonged to Mary Anne. His wife took her under her wing like a mother dove would a baby bird.
“I do. Maybe not in our time, but perhaps with her generation,” he said nodding his head toward the child. “I think for us, you and me and all the others who’ve survived this? Well, this will be our fight. And hopefully, we can win. Ya know, the good guys. For her sake….” he finished as he pointed to Kayla.
Beth smiled weakly. She hoped so too. Turning, she glanced at Mary Anne walking toward them from the house with a tray of tea. Weariness coursed through her body, and she leaned heavily on the table.
“Can you ask Jill to help me back in?”
Roger nodded.
“I may be an old man, but I still can help a lady to her bed,” he replied. He smiled and helped her up. Gritting her teeth, she stood on her good leg, wobbling unsteadily. Pain shot through her hip, and she stumbled only to be caught by Roger’s strong arms. She shot him a grateful glance.
“I think you’ve done enough for this morning, girl,” he murmured. With a strong grip he helped her back to her room in the infirmary. Jill stepped quickly to her side and helped her onto the bed. Beth sank wearily down onto it. Weak light filtered through the shades and Jill pulled them closed.
“Thank you both,” she whispered closing her eyes. Sleep, merciful and sweet, closed over her.
∞
Roger sat at the table next to Mary Anne after helping Beth back to the infirmary and handing her over to Jill. Sipping a cup of coffee, he glanced at his wife. Her expression told him her thoughts were a million miles away. He rubbed his thumb against the handle of his cup while his eyes gazed out over the green grass and mountains in the distance. Spring growth had started to peek its head up out of the cold ground, and he breathed deeply of the fresh air.
“Garden should go in soon.”
Mary Anne smiled, teasing him. Already one step ahead of him.
“Yup, got it covered, old man.”
The stress of the past few months, of running the compound, of the one hundred and one things he worried about daily showed in the deep creases around his eyes.
“We tilled the ground yesterday. The seeds and starters from the greenhouse will go in today. I’ve got Connie, Alisa, Travis, and Cain all working on it.”
Roger nodded. He should have known. Turning his face into the sun, he closed his eyes. A troubled frown creased between his eyes and he rubbed at it lightly with a calloused fingertip. The compound grew daily now that spring had arrived, and people were moving from their houses and traveling away from the death winter left behind. Just this morning, seven more refugees showed up asking for help.
“We’ve got a woman that came in this morning with a two-month-old baby. A cute little bugger. We’ll have to dig into the infant supplies. The poor woman came with nothing but the clothes on her back.”
Mary Anne nodded and sighed. She pinched the bridge of her nose with two fingers and willed the beginning of another headache to go away. Roger glanced at her, concern shadowing his brown eyes. She’d been pushing herself too hard lately; up at dawn every morning, organizing
the kitchen for the buffet type breakfast the women of the compound took turns cooking. Adding that to all her other tasks kept her busy until well into every evening.
“You okay?”
Smiling, she nodded, and Roger reached out and brushed a tendril of her graying hair from her face. She leaned her cheek into the palm of his hand for a second and sighed softly before winking at him.
“Old man,” she teased, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief. He loved that about her. She never failed, in all the forty-plus years they’d been married, to lose that mischievous sparkle in her eyes. Even now, with things so hard for so many, she kept her sense of playfulness, of humor and good faith.
“I’ll gather up a box of supplies from the storeroom. Where did you put the woman and her baby up?”
“I put her in with Tillie and her young-un. I figured they were about the same age. Tillie will be able to help her get settled.”
“That’s good. I’ll go over there later and welcome her to the community. God bless that she and the baby made it here. Do you know where she came from?”
Roger shook his head.
“No. I haven’t found the time to sit and talk with her.”
Mary Anne would fix that, he knew. She always welcomed the new people and jotted pertinent information down in the little notebook she carried. She used it as a census of sorts. It helped them keep track of how many mouths they were feeding, what supplies they would need to add to the daily kitchen where the meals were served, and when the newcomers were settled, the list helped to assign them the tasks that would keep the compound running. It was work-as-you-go type situation. If you wanted to eat, then you helped with the work. It was just that plain and simple.
Smiling softly, Mary Anne pecked Roger on his grizzled cheek.
“You need a shave, old man,” she teased. He grinned at her and playfully slapped her butt.
Sighing heavily, she groaned and slid her shoes back onto her bare feet. She loved the feel of the grass on her toes, and whenever she had a chance, she would slide her shoes off and walk barefoot.