Pulling up short to the front of the wide, brown ranch house, Daddy throws his bike to the ground and runs to the group of men shouting or holding their hands to their head.
I prop my bike and sprint to catch up.
“Can we help?” Daddy asks, directing his comment to the older rancher.
Larry Sutton, a man somewhere in his fifties, strokes his gray handlebar mustache and removes his crème-colored cowboy hat. “No, Ricky, I wish you could, but unless you have a firetruck on the way, my barn is totally gone.”
“Damn, I’m sorry.” With a quick squeeze of the older man’s shoulders, Daddy shakes his head and turns to the blaze.
The sheet metal curls, and the heat’s so intense I step back, even though we’re already thirty feet away. A flaming beam teeters, then crashes to the ground, sending up a storm of embers.
“Hey.” Daddy squints to the area between the barn and house, which is probably around fifty feet of dirt and gravel. “We need to make sure those sparks don’t blow onto your roof.”
“Junior,” Sutton calls, wiggling his fingers in a come here gesture.
A young kid, maybe fourteen or fifteen, turns and trots to the older man. “Yeah, Daddy?”
“You and your brothers get that extra water in the house and throw it against the siding and the roof. All we need is for the fucking house to catch on fire, too.”
The boy nods and leaves.
“How’d this happen in the first place?” Daddy backsteps a few feet and wipes his forehead with the back of a hand.
Char and smoke drift into my nose and against my eyes, causing tears to form.
Mr. Sutton grabs a side of his curled mustache and twirls it between two fingers. He eyes me for a few seconds, as if trying to determine how much to say, I think.
I square my shoulders and meet his gaze, daring him to try and dismiss me.
“Guess you might as well hear it, too. Ain’t gonna do nobody any good if it stays secret.” He pulls a blue bandana from a back pocket, wipes his forehead, then plunks the hat back on. “A group of armed men beat on the door sometime in the early morning, a couple hours before the sun came up.”
“What?” Daddy’s voice is cold iron. “Is everyone okay?”
Burning wood pops and crackles, and a piece of tin crashes to the ground. Several of the other men still milling about curse and jump backward. Junior and his brothers haul buckets of water and splash the house, then he sends them, the other men, and the empty buckets to the stock tank to refill.
“Yeah, Suzie’s a little shook up, but she’ll be fine.” Pulling a pouch of tobacco from a pocket of his shirt, he pinches out some shreds and stuffs it in his bottom lip. “But them boys weren’t too smart. I was already awake and working in the barn, so when I heard the banging, I snuck up behind them with Ole Bertha.” When he smiles, a piece of brown tobacco sticks to a tooth.
“Who’s that?” I’m having a hard time imagining armed men intimidated by a woman named Ole Bertha.
Mr. Sutton waggles his gray eyebrows and pulls a humongous revolver from a holster at his hip. “She’s my pride and joy.” His eyes caress the metal, then he re-holsters the weapon. “One of the men, the leader, I think, tried to intimidate us into giving them horses and food. Said it was their divine right, that God had sent them to us for protection, and in return—a tithe was due.”
My eyes meet Daddy’s, and his mouth tightens. He refocuses on Sutton. “Did this guy give you a name?”
“No, I didn’t give him time. Shot a warning from Ole Bertha and told him to get the fuck off my property.” Mr. Sutton’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “He and his cronies laughed for a few seconds, but they weren’t laughing when my boys slipped outside with shotguns.”
His boys drench the sides and roof of the ranch house. A few orange embers drift to the shingles but sputter out when they land on the wet surface.
“I told them unless they wanted to meet their maker sooner rather than later, they’d better leave and never return.” He glances at the burning barn, which is becoming more of a blackened frame of a barn instead of an actual dwelling. A look of pain flashes across his face. “I thought we’d seen the last of them. A couple of hours later, I spotted a man running across the fields, away from the barn. I started toward him, then saw the spreading flames on the side of the building, like someone poured gasoline and lit a match.” A long sigh leaves his mouth. “It ain’t right, burning a man’s property and endangering his livelihood, especially with how things are now.”
“I’m sorry.” Daddy shakes his head. “At least it wasn’t your house, and no one was hurt.”
“Yessir, but I have a feeling that ain’t the last we’ll see of those cowards.”
Daddy’s face hardens. “If it’s who I think it is, we’ve already had run-ins.”
A low creak, then a groan, floats from the burning barn.
With a hand to my arm, Daddy pulls me farther away. “Everyone needs to get back. I think the roof’s about to collapse.”
The men, sweat staining their shirts and pouring from their faces, jog to where we stand. No sooner do they arrive than does the barn collapse in on itself, sending a shower of sparks and wood outward.
“Well, guess I’ll wait for the fire to exhaust itself, and then figure out what we’re going to do. My horses can’t be exposed out in the open, especially at night.”
“I’ll see if I can get a group of people from town to help with the cleanup. Afterward, I’m sure we’ll figure out a way to build a new one for you. If the lumber store won’t help, there are plenty of old houses falling apart which might yield some good wood to reuse.”
A glassy sheen covers Mr. Sutton’s eyes. “Ricky, you’re a good man.” He claps Daddy on the shoulder. “Say, you got those civil patrols arranged for the town, right?”
Daddy nods.
“Well, how would you feel about adding horses for transportation? They’re a lot faster than bikes.”
“What would you want in exchange?”
“For the patrol to check on all the country folk. Living out here—” he flings an arm toward the fields and back to the road. “—keeps us out of the loop, and if we need help, there’s no way to get it now.”
“I think it’s a great idea, and after today, proof it’s needed, too. We have a limited supply of flares to use for emergencies, so I’ll get some sent to you. If something like this happens again, shoot it off. We’re going to be building watch towers for each direction as an extra measure of safety.” Daddy rubs the back of his neck. “I’ve got some other plans in mind, too, if the power doesn’t come back.”
Sutton’s eyes widen. “You don’t think it’s coming back at all, do you?”
I shift from one foot to the other. Hot sunshine blasts the crown of my head, and the inferno beats from the husk of what’s left of the barn. Flames eat at the framework, but they’re smaller since their appetite is being sated by hundred-year-old wood.
Daddy leans his head to look at the turquoise sky. “No. One of the guards took in a small family from Abilene a couple of nights ago. It’s like this all over the state, they said. People are looting in the town and becoming desperate. The Air Force base is on lockdown and shoots on sight when anyone approaches the gate, which tells me the government’s not in any better shape.” He lets out a long breath. “Something bad’s comin’, Larry, I can feel it in my bones. I think the shitshow is just beginning.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
After Daddy and I return home, I lug several buckets of water to the bathtub and bathe the smoke and stink from my body. Even in the hot house, the well water is freezing, so I’m clean in record time.
Ever since Mr. Sutton pointed out how isolated it is in the country, my stomach’s been tumbling with worry for Max and Kat. I understand why Daddy was so concerned.
I try to banish the worry and pick up a Stephen King novel I’d started last night, but the words blur and my mind wanders. What’s it going to be like in anoth
er few months, in a year? A shiver crawls up my arms and I slam the book shut.
Needing fresh air, I step out into the backyard.
A tall, straight persimmon tree near the back fence points its slim body to the sky, its small, green leaves surrounding the upper half like a dress. Today, there’s not much of a breeze, and the air is already stifling. The sky is azure without a cloud in sight. A flock of birds fly high in the air, their bodies tiny Vs in the distance.
Bet it hits a hundred degrees today.
Mamma kneels, digging in her garden, her red hair pulled into a loose ponytail. A line of annoyance mars her forehead. With one hand, she flicks several weeds over a shoulder.
I pace closer, crunching the grass under my feet.
She glances up and shields her eyes. “Hey there. Wanna help?”
“Sure.” Shrugging, I get to my knees and she motions to the areas that need weeding.
“Those are potato plants.” She points the tip of a small hand shovel and taps a leaf. “Potatoes are tubers and grow underground. They’ll be ready soon, and we can plant more at the end of summer, so we’ll have some for the fall. If I plan this right, we’ll have enough to keep us through winter since they last months. We can store them in the cellar where it’s cool and dark.”
I clear a few pieces of grass growing from the soil. “So we won’t starve?” I give her a grin, knowing we have enough canned and jarred food in the cellar to last a year thanks to her jarring hobby over the years.
She smiles. “Your daddy would never let us starve, but it never hurts to be prepared.” Her attention moves to the plant’s leaves, and she turns a few over, running a fingertip over the veiny surfaces. “He told me about Sutton’s barn.”
“Yeah, it sounds like that Leonard jackass—”
“Tilly Morgan.” Her lips thin and she raises an eyebrow.
“Sorry.” I inhale, rethinking my choice of words. “That jack wagon did it.” I sit on the backs of my calves. “I don’t understand how someone could do something so mean, especially when we should all be working together.”
Mamma shakes her head. “Funerals and catastrophes bring out people’s true natures. All we can do is try to help those who need it and pray for people like him.”
My upper lip curls in a sneer. “You’re kidding, right? Why would I pray for such a scumbag? If I did pray, it would be for him to go straight to hell.”
“I’m not saying to pray he has a wonderful life. I mean pray for his soul.” She digs around a row of leafy greenery, then pulls on the top. “Ah, I see a few of these guys are ready.” Lying in her palm are several thick, orange carrots.
“Well, you can pray for his soul. I’m going to pray he gets a taste of his own medicine. He’s gonna mess with the wrong person one day and boom, it’ll be lights out for that dummy. I’m glad Daddy and the rest of the city are ramping up the patrols to keep people like him out.” Mamma might be able to see the good in people, but it’s hard for me to imagine Leonard and his cronies as anything but a bunch of waiting vultures, eager to prey upon those who might be weaker.
“Yes, it’s something we need. I’ll admit—it makes me nervous knowing we can’t rely on any outside assistance. I help the doc out when I can, but we’re starting to run low on medical supplies. What little antibiotics we have aren’t enough if too many people get sick. And narcotic-wise, we have nothing since the clinic stopped carrying years ago.”
“How’s that guy who had the heart attack?” Switching over to a new row of potatoes, I dig at the base of a large weed. Little thorns poke into my thumbs.
“Mr. Rawlings?” She flicks a squash bug from a large-leafed plant. “He’s hanging in there. Dr. Kemperling sent him home after he stabilized. There wasn’t a whole lot he could do. From the swelling in his ankles, he’s probably in congestive heart failure. He’s on a regimen of blood thinners and such, but without a heart cath, there’s no way to stent the blockage.”
“Sounds like he’s living on borrowed time.” Finding no more weeds, I stand and wipe my filthy hands on my jeans.
“Unfortunately, it’s true.” Her jade gaze meets mine and she smirks. “Had enough of gardening?”
“For now.” I chuckle. “It is kind of relaxing, though.”
“If I can’t teach you how to cook, at least I’ll teach you how to grow.”
“Hey, my cooking isn’t that bad.”
She snorts and turns her attention to her plants.
“Daddy said Max and I can go on our first patrol tonight. Max wanted to know if it’s okay if Kat stays the night with you. If not, he thinks her best friend’s mom will watch her.” A bright, wide smile softens Mamma’s face, reminding me of happier times. I hate this new world. She works too hard.
“Lovely.” With a quick jump, she stands and pulls off her flowery gloves. “I was going to load up some water and scrub clothes, but if Kat’s here, I think we’ll do something a little more fun.”
“Uh, you’re implying washing clothes by hand is somewhat enjoyable.” I try not to give her my shocked stare, but she laughs when her eyes turn to my face.
“It’s hard work, but it’s not that bad, Tilly.”
“Well water is freezing and turns my hands to prunes.”
“Well, you like clean clothes, don’t you?”
I sniff my shirt. “As long as my stuff doesn’t smell like a piece of rotted meat, I’m good.”
“That’s disgusting.” She gathers her hand trowel and shovel, then lays them in a foot-long, green wooden box with a handle. “I don’t know how I ended up with two girls on the opposite spectrums of cleanliness. I bet Sissy’s having a meltdown coping without running water.”
“Yeah.” I hold open the back door, and she steps past me. “She’s probably bathing herself in hand sanitizer and freaking out because she can’t use a dishwasher to kill the germs on her silverware.”
The wave of heat inside the house hits me like a solid wall of flames.
“Your poor sister.” Mamma sets the extra carrots on the kitchen counter. Afternoon light spills through the opened curtains in the dining room and the window above the sink. “I can’t stop worrying about her.”
“I’m sure she’s fine.” After a quick squeeze to Mamma’s upper arm, I down a bottle of water. “And she lives on the coast, so I’m sure they can get food whenever they want. The ocean’s full of fish, and she used to complain about it raining almost every day. So, stop worrying. I’m sure this,” I wave my hands around, “crisis, or whatever we wanna call it, will be over at some point, and she can tell you herself.”
“I hope so.” She cuts the tops from the carrots, then sets the vegetables in a pan of water and scrubs.
Me, too. I head to my room to try and catch a nap before the evening patrol. Daddy’s words, when he was talking to Mr. Sutton, come back to haunt me. Something bad’s comin’, Larry, I can feel it in my bones. I think the shitshow is just beginning.
What could be worse than losing our technology and sense of safety? If there are aliens out there who caused this mess, why haven’t they shown themselves? It’s been over a month, and I haven’t seen any little green men or UFOs flying around.
Stop being stupid. The EMP was probably some sort of natural phenomenon, like a solar flare or something. What would aliens want with us, anyhow? If they’re advanced enough to disable our world, then why wait to claim it?
Coldness creeps in my blood like a slow-moving freeze, and I shiver despite my room hovering in the eighties. I force my thoughts on tonight’s patrol and ignore the dread sitting on my shoulders like an unwanted passenger.
Chapter Twenty-Four
When the sun is about an hour from the horizon, Daddy informs me it’s time to head out. He turns to Mamma. “You keep this door locked and the Remington right by your side, okay?”
She nods, her face giving away nothing. Ever since she shot at Leonard and his men, she seems tougher, more determined, and less anxious. It’s as if the act awoke a harsher sid
e of her.
“I’ll be fine, Ricky.” She presses a kiss to his lips.
“Ugh.” I roll my eyes. “Get a room.”
He returns the kiss. “Use the flare if you need anything, okay?”
“I will.”
Kat skips from my bedroom into the living room, the candle on the coffee table whipping in a frenzy from the sudden rush of air. “Sarah, can we play this?” She holds out a pack of UNO cards.
“Yes, but first we’re going to do some canning.” Mamma smiles at Kat, whose face falls a fraction.
I try not to snicker.
“I love you, Ricky and Tilly.” Mamma grabs me and smashes me into her arms with a quick hug. “Be careful out there and don’t take any risks, okay?”
“I have no plan of putting myself or Half-pint in unnecessary danger.” Daddy swivels to Max, who stands a few feet away. “Got your gun, son?”
“Yessir.” He pats the holster under the thin, long-sleeved shirt he wears over a t-shirt.
“Then let’s get the hell outta here and get you two acquainted with the rest of the evening shift.”
He opens the door, and Max and I grin big, goofy smiles at each other.
Excitement dances in his eyes, and I imagine he sees the same thing in mine. He jerks something from his pocket, and before I can react, his stress ball hits me in the forehead.
“Ow.” My smile drops and I push his shoulder. “That hurt, asshole.”
With a lightning move, he stuffs it into his front pocket before Daddy fully turns toward us.
“Come on, Lookout.” Max gives me a sly smile, his eyes lit with mischief. “Better not be tripping over those big feet tonight, or you might shoot yourself.”
“Watch it, Max, or I might shoot you.”
Daddy rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Don’t you two start tonight. If you want to be included with the adults, then act like one.”
Max and I both mumble agreement, and I try not to give him a glare.
The Intrusion: Baltin Prequel Page 13