The Renewal

by Joseph Ferguson

  Chapter 15

  Treyson’s legs and butt started to ache after about twenty minutes of riding, “I’m not sure this was a good idea,” he said.

  “I told you that we should look for a nice car,” Esther said smugly.

  “You remember what I said about Elaina telling me technology would fail, I’m sure I told you, and that the car I was driving sputtered and quit running. I’m not sure we could find one that would run.”

  “But my car ran fine before I parked it,” she said then added, “maybe because it was an older car.”

  “Maybe, we should test an old car if we can find one, but I think all technology has failed, I could be wrong though,” he said.

  “I will keep my eyes open for one. It would make traveling easier,” she said.

  “That it would,” he answered feeling the effects of the seat on his rear.

  They rode in silence for a while as they looked for a place to get something to eat, but Esther’s mind was mostly on finding a car. She realized it would have to be old, probably pre-seventies like her old Chevy, which might prove difficult since the American government has tried to rid the country of leaded gas guzzlers. The fines were really steep if you’re caught driving one, so most are kept in storage or have been recycled. Treyson rode into the parking lot of a small convenience store, stopping near the front entrance and flipping his kickstand down just as Esther pulled up beside him.

  She gave him a narrow eyed look and spoke with a slight tone, “You need to give me a signal or say something before you decide to turn! “

  “I’m sorry, riding and hunger are getting to me,” Treyson said walking with a slight limp. “I’m getting too old for this,” he said with a chuckle.

  Esther laughed, “You’re not too old, just out of shape. Setting behind a desk in your prior life is coming back to haunt you.”

  A quick sneer is all he gave her as they walked into the store finding the store clerk’s partially dissolved body lying on the floor behind the counter; her hair lay loosely seemingly separate from her head. Scanning the store, Treyson realized someone had beaten them to it and all the shelves were empty.

  Reading his mind Esther spoke, “we might have to go to people’s homes to find food. I know it sounds wrong but we must survive.”

  “You might be right,” he said under his breath. “From the looks of it a few more people than we originally thought must have survived the plague. We need to be careful; people will now be territorial, forming groups and hording food and water.”

  “If there were so many survivors how come we haven’t seen them, they all must be in hiding?” Esther said with a hint of sarcasm, looking intently at Treyson.

  “Ok maybe not, but why else would someone take all the food from here unless to feed a group of people. Look they even took all the batteries and flashlights,” he said pointing to the empty shelf.

  “So let’s go house to house until we find some food and the things we need, but we have to hurry and get back to the bike shop before dark. The others are probably already waiting on us,” she declared with hands on hips.

  They heard the sound of a motor running when they stepped out of the store and Esther espied a man in a brown corduroy jacket with a can and a hose trying to siphon gas from a car in the parking lot. He hadn’t caught sight of them until they were close, startled and with a surprised look on his face, he pulled the hose from his mouth and stuck it in the can, “Wow, I didn’t expect to see anyone here.”

  “You got a car that runs,” Esther blurted eagerly as she scanned the parking lot for the running car, seeing an old van with smoke coming from its tail pipe.

  Ignoring her, the older man stuck out his hand to Treyson, “Hi, my name is Jim.”

  He could smell the heavy aroma of gasoline on him, but Treyson took his hand anyway and shook it, feeling his rough calluses. He saw the gray hair curling around Jim’s dirty worn cap and the wrinkles near his eyes and mouth, gaging him to be near sixty, “I’m Treyson and this is my friend Esther. How is it you have a vehicle that runs, I mean ever since the plague it seems as if technology isn’t working the way it should?”

  “It’s a long story (his smile increasing his wrinkles and showing some rotting teeth) I was a mechanic at a local shop and about two weeks before the plague, a man towed in an old 1963 Volkswagen van. He asked me to look at the motor telling me he wanted to restore the body, but wanted to make sure the engine was sound first. He gave me some money up front to make the motor run and he said he would pay the difference when he returned in a week. I agreed to do the work so I replaced the dry rotted belts and hoses, then the plugs and wires. I flushed the engine and the gas tank and put in new fluids. After tweaking the carburetor it started right up and purred like a kitten. I did a little brake work then took it for a test drive, figuring the guy would be pleased when he returned, but he never came back.”

  “So if you’re driving it I was right about technology failing,” Treyson interrupted?

  “In a sense, yes, but not for the reason you probably think. You see, I got up the morning after the plague swept America, jumped in my truck and headed for my sons place to check on them since they didn’t answer their phone. After driving twenty minutes the engine sputtered and about ten minutes later it died and wouldn’t start. I opened the hood and noticed the battery cables were extremely corroded so I cleaned them yet the darn thing still wouldn’t start. I then checked to see if it was getting gas and saw that the air filter was plugged so bad that it had crystalized, so I removed it, yet the truck would still not start. I decided to check the fuses under the hood and found the culprit, the circuit board was corroded and I figured it was something in the air brought on by the plague, probably salt.”

  “Why do you say that,” Treyson asked?

  Pointing towards the car he was siphoning gas from was little rust spots dotting the door, “cars are starting to rust at a fast rate. I figure in a couple of years most vehicles will be heaps of rust, unless someone takes care of it, we are all going to be riding horses before we know it,” he said with a laugh as he pulled the hose from the can laying it on top of the car and holding it there with a brick.

  Esther asked if the van was for sell, but Jim continued to ignore her as he carried the gas and started pouring it into the already prepared funnel, telling Treyson that money no longer has value; only real property means anything now, giving him a wink and a sideways glance at Esther saying, “if you know what I mean.”

  Not sure what he meant, Treyson was beginning to think Jim was a little weird as he watched Esther stand on her tip toes and look in the van.

  Noticing the back of the van was filled with bags of food, Esther exclaimed, “what the heck Jim, that’s a lot of food for just one man.”

  As if she didn’t exist, he carried the gas can back to the car, taking the hose off the roof and stuck it quickly back into the can; they could hear the gas running again.

  After looking in the van for himself, Treyson repeated Esther’s words, “That is a lot of food for just one man, Jim.”

  “Yea, I know, I’m trying to stock a place we found over by Prospect Park, and it has some type of built in generator that powers the whole house.”

  “You said we, does that mean you’re not alone,” Treyson asked?

  “I was on my own for a couple of days when I happened upon a group who were scavenging for food. They were scared, unorganized and fearful of dying, thinking the plague wasn’t finished. I took them in showing them how to survive teaching them how to effectively hunt for food. They used to separate and go out alone, but I told them we could be more effective if we stayed together and emptying one store or many houses at a time.”

  His words “stayed together” made Treyson pause as he looked around; Esther too had become cautious as she moved closer to him. Two men stood in the distance to the right of them, both brandishing baseball bats. Esther tugged his sleeve getting his attention and pointed to the three men standing
behind them. He didn’t have to look, for he was sure there were more on his left, but so far they were all keeping their distance. His eyes locked on Jim as he spoke, “we don’t want any trouble. We are trying to survive like anyone else.”

  “I told you earlier that real property is the new cash and you possess something of great value. We have only found one woman that was immune to the plague and twelve guys to one girl just don’t work.”

  “What you don’t understand,” Treyson spoke angrily, while sliding his sword from its sheath, “is I do not own her, but I will fight for her.”

  From somewhere under his worn jacket he pulled a nine millimeter pistol and pointed it within inches of Esther’s face, “if I kill her none of us will have her, so back off,” Jim shouted!

  Treyson could hear the other men walking towards them, he would have to act or Esther would be lost. “Why does disaster sometimes bring the worst out in humanity, hasn’t there been enough death already, Jim,” Treyson asked, his eyes watching Esther as she just smiled?

  Jim’s quick look at Treyson was all that Esther needed as she quickly brought up her left hand and redirected the gun down and away into Jim’s midsection. Twice her elbow found Jim’s face area bringing blood to his nose and a dazed look to his eyes. Her knee came up into his groin as her right hand reached under and twisted the gun causing Jim’s trigger finger to snap audibly, bringing a grunt followed by a yelp as Jim crumpled to the ground leaving Esther holding the gun. She turned and brought the gun up aimed in front of her, but no one was moving, stunned by the show she just put on by disarming their leader and leaving him moaning in a defeated heap. Even Treyson seemed astonished as he just stared at her, his mouth agape; the sound of her firing the gun in the air brought him from bewilderment and caused the other would be attackers to flee leaving them alone with Jim. Esther brought the gun around aiming it at Jim, “I should kill him,” she said angrily.

  “No don’t, not yet,” Treyson said putting his hand on her gun hand.”

  “But his way of thinking will pollute what’s left of this world, plus they have a girl captive and you know they are abusing her,” she said pulling back the hammer.

  Treyson sheathed his sword and said in a nonchalant tone, “give us your address or she will kill you.”

  “I would die first then to give up my family,” Jim said defiantly.

  Treyson smiled saying, “we’ll see how much suffering you can take,” as he walked to where Jim was siphoning and picked up the now overflowing gas can. He returned and poured it on Jim’s feet drenching them, and then made a small trail of gas leading away. “Stand back Esther,” he cried pulling a lighter from his pocket, “there might be a small explosion.

  Esther stepped away shrugging her shoulders while looking at Jim seeing the instant fear on his face, “let me know when you want me to use this to put you out of your misery,” she said showing him the gun.

  “Ok, you win, “Jim shouted, “Please don’t light it, I will tell you.”

  “Good, now take off your shoes and socks, I don’t want you to smell up my new van,” Treyson with a laugh.

  “Looks like we found something else of value Jim…, your life,” Esther said breaking up with laughter.

  Even though Jim removed his foot wear the van still had the odor of gas causing Treyson and Esther to roll down their windows as they headed down the highway.