“Nothing good, son.” A drop of sweat falls from Daddy’s forehead and he puts a hand on his hip, but his gaze never wanders from the darkened building.
Someone creeps out from the front door of the store.
“Max,” Daddy whispers, “you take my daughter and head back to Callahan, you understand?”
“No way,” I hiss. “I’m not leaving you here with whoever that is.”
“This is not a debate, Tilly.” Daddy grips Max’s upper arm. “You take her straight back to town, and if we don’t return in an hour, you tell Davey and Hank—” He lets go and stretches out a hand to grip mine. “—what happened. They’ll know what to do.”
“But—”
“Come on, Tilly.” Max jams his bike against my front tire and pushes, forcing me to turn. “He’s right. We’re too exposed and whoever set that barrier up did it for a reason.”
I clench my mouth shut. He has a good point, but still—why does this feel like I’m running away and leaving Daddy and Mr. Miller to fend for themselves?
Daddy inches a hand toward the small gun tucked at the small of his back, the movement careful and unhurried, as if he doesn’t want to call any attention to himself.
Slowly, so slowly, I point the bike the way I came. Can I leave them here? No. Max and I might be able to help.
Throwing a glance over my shoulder, I open my mouth. “Daddy, I’m not”—
Pow-pow. Rock and dirt fly into the air from ten feet away, the tiny pebbles peppering my upper arm and I freeze, the breath catching in my throat.
“Jesus.” Max’s lips tighten and his knuckles whiten on the handlebars. He looks me over with a quick, efficient stare and then his gaze cuts to the side, toward the building. “Asshole.”
“Just where do ya think you’re going?” A drawling male voice calls, his words slow and thick. “That ain’t very neighborly, leavin’ before we even get a chance to make the proper introductions.” His Texas twang is so heavy that introductions sounds like interductions.
Daddy twists himself to stare at me, his eyes taking in my body. When he sees I’m in one piece, his shoulders sag and he wipes his neck with the back of a hand. “I’m going to break that motherfucker’s fingers,” he growls under his breath.
“Now, Ricky, don’t do anything rash.” Mr. Miller steps off his bike and offers a smile toward the approaching man.
“Max, you stay with Tilly.” Daddy’s voice is firm and commanding, giving no room for objection.
“Yessir.” Max pushes himself closer to me, his thigh brushing against mine. His blue-gray gaze flits to me and he nods.
“Good mornin’.” Daddy’s voice is cheerful, but I can hear the simmering anger underneath the false happiness. He and Mr. Miller hold their hands palms out, a gesture of peace and surrender.
The shooter, his long reddish-brown hair gathered at the nape of his neck, sports a dirty white tank top covered with a green camouflage vest. That’s not what grabs my complete attention, though. It’s the enormous .45 he holds, pointed directly at Daddy’s chest.
“Don’t know if it’s a good mornin’ yet, but we’re about to find out.” He spreads his feet apart, both hands on the handle of the gun, his finger lingering on the trigger. “I reckon that’s close enough.”
Ten feet away from the man, Daddy and Mr. Miller stop where the beginning of the parking lot begins. The canopy over the gas pumps shades the men from the bright West Texas sunshine.
I move a foot closer, my heart thumping in my chest, a driving need within me to get closer to my dad, to protect him.
“Tilly,” Max hisses, his fingers curling around my shoulder. “Stay with me.”
Seething inside, I shrug his hand away but halt, my bike still resting underneath while I dig my fingernails into the handles.
“Me and my friends were heading to Abilene to see if anyone knows what’s going on.” Daddy’s back is to me and his hands still rest in the air in the universal sign of deference. “My name’s Richard, and this here is James. It’s nice to meet you.” He pauses, as if giving the man a chance to introduce himself.
The disgusting guy hawks a wad of yellowish-green mucus to the cement. “Name’s Leonard.” He squints at Daddy, then Mr. Miller. “Ain’t gotta go to Abilene to know it’s the end of the world. That’s what’s happening, which means every man for himself.” He smiles, and it reminds me of a shark’s smile—full of sharp, pointy teeth.
“Hmm.” Mr. Miller shifts his feet, the light breeze rearranging tufts of his floating wisps of white hair. “I hardly think being without power for a few days qualifies as the end of the world, sir.”
“We knew this day was comin’. Me and my friends been preparin’ for it all our lives, and God has chosen us to be his apostles.” He removes one hand from the gun and points to the sky. “Which means,” he sighs dramatically, “a tithe is in order if you fine folks wanna pass.”
“I see.” Daddy slowly lowers his hands.
Frowning, I peer closer at Leonard. He sounds like one of those crazy nuts from the religious cult located over here called The House of Tomorrow.
“God told us many months ago this day would arrive. A tithe ensures your salvation.” He lowers the gun to point at the ground and holds out a hand, his slippery smile widening.
“Of course,” Daddy says. “Let me see what I have to offer.” Carefully, he lowers his fingers to his front pocket. Taking out his pack of smokes, he holds the open end toward the man. “We don’t have a lot to donate since we’re just running into town and back.” He pushes the pack closer. “I can give you these for now.”
“Ain’t much.” He licks his lips, eyeing the pack of cigarettes, then swings his stare to where Max and I stand. His attention stops on my khaki backpack dangling from the handlebars.
There are only a couple bottles of water, some crackers, and my notebook inside, but he can kiss my ass if he thinks he’s going to steal it from me, gun or not.
Daddy squares his shoulders for two seconds, then relaxes again, pushing the cancer sticks even closer to the tips of the man’s fingers, pulling the man’s attention back toward him.
Leonard grabs the end of the pack with his forefinger and thumb.
With a quick twist of his elbow, Daddy throws up his other hand, knocking the gun from Leonard’s grasp. He twirls around the man’s back and puts him in a chokehold. Daddy’s small pistol kisses the man’s temple, the sunlight gleaming off its silvery, shiny surface.
The pack of cigarettes drops to the parking lot, and Leonard drags in a breath, his oily smile now a frightened grimace.
“You sorry piece of shit.” Daddy squeezes his arm around the man’s throat, forcing a choked cry.
“Wait,” Leonard whispers, “I wasn’t going to hurt anyone.”
Daddy clicks off the safety, and even over the constant crick of grasshoppers in the fields behind the store, the sound is foreboding.
“You shot at us—at my daughter.” The tip of the muzzle presses farther into his temple, denting the skin. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you right here and now.”
“Because God wouldn’t like that.” His voice wavers, and his hands clench his groin, as if he’s trying to keep from pissing his pants.
Inside, a wild burst of laughter bubbles up from my chest, but I stuff it away.
Daddy’s face contorts into a snarl. “You crazy son of a—”
“Ricky.” Mr. Miller steps in front of Leonard and tilts his head. Our neighbor nods in my direction. “There’s your reason.”
Daddy’s eyes meet mine and his nostrils flare. After a few seconds, his gaze clears, and he releases his elbow from Leonard’s throat.
Bending over, the terrified guy pants and clutches his thighs.
Twisting like a snake, Daddy stoops to the pavement, scoops the discarded .45, and stuffs it into his back pocket.
Leonard stands, his posture bent, his eyes hard and narrowed. “I won’t forget this.”
“I should hop
e not.” A humorless smile graces my dad’s face. “But just in case”—in one quick motion, he grasps Leonard’s pinky and pulls it backward—“here’s a long-term reminder.”
A shrill scream splits the air, and Leonard falls to his knees, his other hand slapping at Daddy’s fist, pain etched across his face.
“This—” Daddy yanks the finger to the side, and something crunches. “—is for shooting your gun near my girl. The next time I see your sorry ass, you won’t be so lucky. Do you understand?”
Sweat pours from the man’s face, and he lets out a sob.
“I can’t hear you.” Daddy yanks the dangling finger again, fury twisting across his stare like a rampaging bull.
Holy crap. My dad just broke that guy’s finger without batting an eyelid.
“Yes, I understand,” the man screams, the words echoing against the concrete and building.
“Good.” With a disgusted sneer, he lets go of Leonard’s hand and stalks in our direction. “Come on, y’all.”
Max’s face is pale.
Mine probably doesn’t look any better. I never knew my dad was such a badass. Pride and awe, along with a smidgeon of shock, flows through me.
He slides his arm around my shoulders. “Let’s go home.”
“I thought we were going to Abilene?” I climb onto my bike.
“Not anymore.” He nods toward the still kneeling, crying man. “I’ve seen all I need to see. We need to get back and come up with a plan to deal with assholes like him if we want to survive whatever—or whoever—the hell else is coming.”
His words send a cold shiver up my spine and I grit my teeth.
Please let the power come on and everything return to normal.
Chapter Thirteen
The ride home is an uncomfortable silence. I think we’re all lost in our own thoughts—not wanting to believe there are people like Leonard, jumping at the chance to take advantage of those weaker, yet there he was, ready to use force to steal whatever he wanted and justify it with religion.
Coasting in front of my house, I stop and stand the bike, scanning homes for any signs of electricity.
Everything’s dark and dead.
“Hey, Tilly.” Max lets his ride drop to the ground. “You okay?”
Daddy and Mr. Miller park behind Daddy’s motorcycle. Mr. Miller whispers something to my dad and heads to his house.
Daddy pauses for a moment, moving his gaze from Max to me. “You did good today, son.” He strides forward and crushes me to his chest. “And so did you, Half-pint. For a minute there, I thought…”
“I’m okay, Daddy. That guy was an asshole.”
With one last squeeze, he lets go and shakes his head, a gleam of moisture in his eyes. “Still, I’m sorry. I didn’t expect something like this to happen so fast. This evening, I’m calling an emergency meeting with the Mayor and everyone around here to see if we can get that patrol going immediately. If the power doesn’t come back on—and soon—people like Leonard are gonna become a real threat.”
“Mr. Morgan?” Max swallows and runs a hand through his hair.
“Yeah?”
“Do you think—” Max’s eyes dart to the ground, then meet my dad’s stare again. “—you could teach me how to shoot? I-I’d like to learn how to protect my family.”
“You willing to put in the work for it?”
“Of course.” He nods.
“Good. You and Tilly both need to learn, so come by tomorrow morning, around dawn.”
“Hey.” I raise an eyebrow at both men. “Are you insane? First off, that’s too early. Second, I’m perfectly capable of making my own decisions.”
“Fine.” Daddy claps a hand on Max’s shoulder. “I guess it’ll be you and me then. We need to do it outside the city, though. I don’t want to scare anyone in town.” He strokes his beard. “Say, don’t you live in the county?”
Max’s shoulders straighten. “Yeah, but I don’t know if my place—”
“It’ll be perfect. There’s nothing but brush and fields for miles around. It’s safe and far enough away to not disturb anyone.”
These two sure are getting chummy. I really do need to learn how to use a gun, though. It would be practical. Plus, I don’t want to be left out. “Okay, fine. I’m going, too.”
Daddy’s eyes twinkle. “Oh, now you wanna go?”
“Whatever.” I roll my eyes and flap a hand.
With a chuckle, he ruffles my hair and lets himself into the house, leaving Max and me in the front yard with the afternoon sun heating my skin.
A warm breeze blows through, lifting a few strands of hair from my neck. The green grass under my feet crunches with the shifting of my shoes.
“You really okay, Tilly?”
“Yeah, I’m good.” My attention focuses on his face. His eyes are bluer than gray in the bright light, more like a deep, calm ocean. They’re quite nice. “Thanks for coming with me today, even if we almost got killed.” I try to laugh, but it comes out weak and breathy.
“That was nuts.” He shakes his head, causing his long bangs to drop across an eye. “I need to get home.” Twisting toward his bike, he halts and gestures toward the houses. “Do you think things will ever get back to normal?”
“I don’t know. I hope so, but…” Sighing, I stare into the distance, then up at the clear sky. “If it were just the electricity not working, I wouldn’t be so worried. But all the stuff that should come on with batteries doesn’t work, either. Daddy thinks an EMP was released. If so, why?” Looking downward, I kick a small pebble across the yard. “It can’t mean anything good.”
Max pulls out his stress ball and squeezes it in his hand three times. “Well, if everything goes back to normal tomorrow, would you still want to hang out with me?”
“Normal means we’ll be in school.” I snort, giving him a small grin. “You sure you wanna be seen with me? The klutzy, awkward girl?”
He tugs on the silver stud in his ear. “Hmm, true. I do have a reputation to maintain.”
The smile leaves my face in a flash. God, why’d I have to say that? No wonder I’ve never had a boyfriend. I’m such a freaking mess. I turn and step away, embarrassment stiffening my spine and heat flowing off my body like an oven.
“Hey.” His fingers catch the back of my arm, freezing me on the spot. “I’m kidding. I don’t think you’re a klutz at all.”
Unable to help it, I chuckle and throw him a glance over my shoulder. “But you do think I’m awkward?” I pick at a piece of lint on my sleeve, watching him under my lashes.
“Hmm. I feel like this is a trap.” He releases my arm and puts his hand into a pocket, turning the ball with the fingers of his other. “So, instead of answering, I’ll change the subject. If things are still shitty tomorrow, how about you and I see what kind of trouble we can find after we dump your dad?”
“No way.” Stamping my foot, I brace my hands on my hips. “I am not breaking into anyone’s house again. It’s wrong.”
He tilts his head. “Such a sense of morality.” Jutting his chin to the street, he points toward his bike. “If what you say is true, we need to start thinking about a long-term plan for survival, which means scavenging anything useful. Your dad’s right. Our generous, benevolent friend Leonard is proof of what’s going to happen if we don’t protect Callahan’s residents and property.”
I remember the look in Leonard’s eyes—righteous fervor and greed. Max isn’t wrong. What’s to stop Leonard and his friends from paying a visit at any time? If nothing works, and we have no power, the entire city will be left without the protection of police or any kind of emergency services.
Rubbing my arms, even though it’s heating up in the bright sun, I shiver.
“Don’t worry.” Max squeezes my shoulder once and drops his hand. “Everything’s going to be fine. You’ve got me and your dad.” He turns and plops onto his bicycle. “I really need to go, but I’m looking forward to tomorrow.” He raises his straight eyebrows and grins.
A soft laugh floats on the wind. “See you soon, Lookout.” Without a backward glance, he pedals along the street. Rays of sunshine flash from the chrome wheels, and he whistles “It’s the End of the World” by R.E.M. and waves, somehow knowing I’m watching his back.
Chapter Fourteen
Pots clang together and drag me from the dredges of sleep. Between the heat of the night without air conditioning and worry over what the future holds, I slept fitfully.
After using the toilet and dumping a bucket of water inside, forcing it to flush, I stumble into the kitchen.
Mamma smiles. “Well, hello there, sleepyhead.” She twists to a covered plate, grabs it, then walks to the counter separating the kitchen from the dining room.
“Nothin’ good about this early in the morning.” I plop in the chair like a zombie.
With a kiss to the top of my head, she slides the dish onto the table. “Made pancakes this morning.”
Their sweet scent wafts toward my nose and my stomach growls. “Yum.” I grab a nearby bottle of syrup. Mixed in with the pancake smell is the deep, nutty aroma of my most favorite beverage in the whole world. “And coffee, too?”
“Yep.” She plunks a steaming mug beside my plate.
“I love you, Mamma.”
“I know.” Her white teeth shine from her mouth. “Love you, too, Tilly.” She bites her lip and the grin fades. “Wish I knew how Sissy is doing.” Her hands wring together, and she turns her gaze to the dining room window facing the side of the house, toward Mr. Miller’s wooden fence.
Sipping the coffee, I stare at her over the rim. “Me, too. But she has Mark—I’m sure they’re fine.” Smothering my three flapjacks in syrup, I shrug. “Besides, maybe they weren’t affected by—” I point the utensil at the ceiling. “—whatever the hell this is.”
“Language, Tilly.”
Chewing, I roll my eyes.
“But yeah, I hope not.” She transfers a couple to her plate.
The Intrusion: Baltin Prequel Page 7