by Reed, N. C.
“I can ride but I don't know about Heath,” Leanne replied. “I need to find that out.” She looked at her watch and stood up. “And I have to go to work now. Thanks for letting me sit here with you.”
“Glad for the company,” Sam told her truthfully. “Come back any time,” she smiled.
“See you later.”
-
“Goodness, Carlene, why in the world are you wearing long sleeves in this heat?” Angela asked her as Carlene Goodrum arrived at the seed garden, late for work.
“Oh, it... it helps with the sun,” she stammered, pulling at the cuffs as if by afterthought. “I won't burn as badly, hopefully.”
“I suppose,” Angela nodded. Having worked outdoors her entire life, the sun no longer bothered Angela except on very hot days. “Well, lets get to work, shall we ladies?” she smiled at Olivia and then at Carlene. Soon the three of them were transplanting vines and stalks from one place to another, expanding the seed garden as quickly as nature would allow, using all the small greenhouses that had been erected so far save for the one intended for the medicinal plants. Angela knew that another greenhouse would be put up soon for medicinal herbs to prevent all of their herbal 'eggs' from being in the same proverbial basket. It was a good plan, but would prevent them from using it for seedlings.
She heard Carlene Goodrum cry out a little and turned to see her holding her midsection. She moved to the other woman's side, concerned.
“Carlene, are you all right? What happened?”
“Oh, n-nothing,” Carlene told her in a gasp. “I th-think I pulled something when I picked up that basket,” she nodded to the flower basket at her feet. “It's my fault. I picked it up while I was twisting. That's all. It's fine,” she grunted as she tried to bend over to retrieve the basket.
“I want you to go to the clinic, Carlene,” Angela told her, taking the basket from the ground herself and keeping it. “Have Patricia or Doctor Thatcher check that out.”
“That's not necessary, Angela,” Carlene shook her head, clearly in pain. “It's just an accident and my own fault to boot. I'm fine.”
“Stop arguing with me and go,” Angela insisted. “Go and let my daughter-in-law have a look at you. I'm sure she'll probably tell you to take the rest of the day to rest, but let her be the one to do it. Make sure you aren't injured worse than you think.”
“Angela, I really don't-,”
“Carlene, I'm not making a suggestion, here,” Angela cut her off gently. “We can't afford to let injuries go unchecked these days. Now you go and let them check you over. If you're okay to work tomorrow then we'll see you then. Now go on,” she made a shooing motion.
Clearly reluctant, Carlene nodded and started away for the clinic. Angela frowned for a moment before moving to where she could follow Carlene's movements, a thread of suspicion in her mind.
Sure enough, after Carlene had gone far enough toward the clinic that she thought she was out of sight, she turned and headed up the hill instead. Frowning even more, Angela told Olivia she would be back in a few minutes before setting out to the Troy farm herself. If she was right, then this was not something she could handle on her own.
-
The worst moment came when they arrived at the homestead. Seeing the charred remains of what had once been her home, Daisy hadn't been able to keep from crying. Clay had warned her about the bodies left in the yard, bodies of the attackers his men had killed, but had not said anything about the fire. Only he, Zach and Abby knew what had really happened, and none of them would ever speak of it. Some of the others might guess, but they would never have any proof.
“I'm sorry, Daisy,” Clay said softly, meaning every word.
“It's all gone,” she sobbed a little. “Everything is gone.”
“Remember it's not all gone,” Clay reminded her. “A lot of it was brought to the farm. Everything we could find. All that was left was the houses themselves. We didn't leave anything behind other than that.”
“All such a waste,” she shook her head. “We should have stayed where we were. I should have refused to go. Maybe if I had, Micah at least would have changed his mind.”
“We all do what we think is best for us at the time, Daisy,” Clay tried again to comfort her. “It's all we can do. Sometimes, we get it wrong.”
“Pull down the road a little,” Daisy said suddenly, stiffening up a bit. “There should be a dirt road on the right, maybe a hundred yards or so down. We need to go there.”
A minute later they were sitting near that dirt road.
“There are small gardens planted all down this road for nearly a mile,” Daisy said as she got out. “This is snake infested ground, so watch where you step, or put your hands,” she warned. “I'm going to take cuttings from the plant I'm after, but I'm also going to harvest anything that's far enough along that we can use. These gardens are perpetual, meaning they grow back each year pretty much on their own, so remember where they are. There may come a time when you need them and I'm not around or not able to bring you. As far as I'm concerned, they belong to the farm, now. It's little enough for what you've done for all of us. Remember to watch out for snakes,” she warned again as she started down the road.
Zach and Gordy remained with the vehicles, manning the guns. The others fanned out behind and ahead of Daisy, Heath taking the rear with a scoped .308 rifle, Tandi beside him. It didn't seem to take that long before Daisy stopped and knelt at a small patch of blooms.
“Five meters,” Clay said softly, then knelt beside Daisy as the others spread out to cover them.
“Need any help?” he asked softly. The woman shook her head as she continued to work.
“I appreciate it, but if you don't know what you're doing it just kills the blooms,” she told him. “Deb took great pains to teach us all how to handle these. Jasmine knows how, but she's just too twitchy yet to leave the safety of the farm, and I wouldn't ask Lila to come even if I had to do it alone.”
“I understand,” Clay assured her, and his tone told her that he did, regardless of his inability to actually empathize with her situation. “All I can promise you is that you're safe with us.”
“That's more than I had before,” Daisy never looked up. “And it means a great deal, I promise you.”
The two fell silent as she continued to carefully cut from the roots of several plants, though not all of them. Once done, she spent another five minutes gathering blooms from other plants in the small plot before standing. She pointed further down the road into the woods and Clay nodded, signaling for Mitchell to lead them off once more.
This scene was repeated seven times over the next hour and twenty minutes as Daisy took everything she dared to remove while making sure there was something left for the future as well. Finally, wringing with sweat and bleeding from more than one brier or barb, Daisy stood and stretched her back, wincing as it popped several times.
“That's it,” she told Clay quietly. “There are two more plots further down,” she informed him, “but I've got more than enough here already. Remember where these are,” she stressed. “I've left them in such a way that they'll continue to provide over time. If you need these herbs again, these small plots should be able to provide them for you. You need to know where they are in case something happens to me.”
“Why are they so spread out?” Clay asked as they made their way back to the vehicles.
“To prevent them from being wiped out by something like that wildfire,” Daisy replied. “Or maybe being stripped clean by someone who doesn't realize or maybe doesn't care that these aren't wild plants and are actually planted on private property. Deb used these so much, really depended on them so much that she wanted to make sure she would always have some available to her.”
“Looks like it worked,” Clay was trying to make gentle conversation to keep Daisy's mind off things as much as he could. Daisy knew this, but appreciated it nevertheless.
“It did,” Daisy agreed. “We rarely had to visit the doctor
, to be honest. For most things, Deb had a cure that would work as good or better than anything the pharmacy might have. Their medicines come from the same plants we just harvested, or others like them. Eventually they manage to synthesize them, but that's actually where a lot of drug allergies come from. People forget that we had medicine long before we had pharmacists or the FDA.”
-
While the group in the woods had made their way down and back gathering plants, Zach and Gordy had manned the guns on the vehicles, keeping watch. Neither spoke until Gordy called Zach about ten minutes after the group entered the woods.
“Gunner, you seeing this?” he called softly. “Check my two o'clock.”
Zach turned slowly to look in the direction Gordy had given him. At first he didn't see anything out of place, but motion drew his eyes skyward where he saw buzzards circling. Far too many buzzards for a simple dead animal.
“That ain't good,” he replied quietly.
“What I was thinking,” Gordy agreed. “We better be extra careful until the others get back.”
“Should we call them?” Zach wondered aloud. They were using small FRS radios on a scrambled channel to talk to one another and no one else. Odds were heavily against anyone hearing them.
“No,” Gordy replied. “Not unless something changes. Right now, it's just something that's distant from us. Let them complete the mission unless it becomes an issue.”
“Roger that,” Zach agreed and returned to watching his sector.
-
Clay knew as soon as they emerged from the woods that something was wrong. Both Gordy and Zach looked tense, and while they should certainly be alert, both were well past the point of simply being concerned and letting it show.
“Boys?” he asked softly.
“Boss,” Zach used his chin to point toward behind Clay, and Clay followed the point to find a mass of buzzards circling.
“Well... shit,” he swore softly.
“Not our problem?” Mitchell asked, looking at the cloud of birds.
“I don't know,” Clay admitted. “What's over that way guys? Daisy?” He'd been gone a long time.
“That's south of here,” Gordy mused. “Only thing I know of over there is Alphaville.”
“Alphaville?” Clay asked, puzzled. “I never heard of it.”
“It used to be called Placerville,” Daisy provided. “It's not a real town, just a community. A small store, an old school they turned into a community center, and a fire station. Maybe one hundred people living there, I guess?” she turned to look at Gordy and then at Zach.
“Sounds about right,” Zach agreed. “I don't know for sure, but I'd say that's close.”
“Right about it, anyway,” Gordy offered. “At least for the area right around the community center and all.”
“Placerville I remember,” Clay said when they were done. “How far is it there by road, Daisy? From here, I mean?”
“Ten minutes I guess, if the road's clear,” Daisy replied. “I had friends there,” she added almost as an afterthought.
“You want to go check on it?” Clay asked her, letting her decide if she wanted to risk it.
“If you want to go and look, I won't object,” Daisy threw the ball right back to his court. “Don't do anything different just because I'm here with you. I can take it.”
“Thug, Doc, your opinion?” Clay asked.
“I'm still hearing 'not our problem' in my head, Boss,” Mitchell admitted. “But if it's something that might become our problem, then we need to know.”
“They're still circling,” Tandi mentioned. “That means they haven't decided to land, yet. Whatever this is, it's recent in all likelihood. Taking a look can't hurt I suppose,” he shrugged finally. “We just need to remember we're not in a position of strength, here.”
That was true, Clay acknowledged to himself. A Hummer and one MRAP wasn't a strong force to be making waves, but it was a good scouting force. To be honest, if Daisy wasn't along, he would have already saddled up and have them headed that way.
“We can at least go see what the deal is,” he decided finally. “Load up, everyone. We'll approach with caution and see what we can see. E and E remains unchanged. Let’s move.”
-
Country roads, at least in Tennessee, typically shared one quality no matter where they were; their builders made sure there were as many curves as possible. Older generations referred to it as building 'hill to hill and still to still', referencing hilly terrain and whiskey still locations.
The road the group followed to the small community known as Alphaville was no exception to that rule at all.
“Why did they change the name to Alphaville, Daisy?” Clay asked as they made their way down the winding road.
“To get a zip code when the Postal Service decided to place a post office there,” she told him with a snort. “For a while the Postal Service was putting a Post Office anywhere it could, seems like. And then spent years shutting them all down again, well before the lights went out. Believe it or not, there was already a Placerville somewhere with a prior claim on a zip code.”
“They've got a post office?” Clay looked shocked.
“Sort of,” she replied. “Instead of building a building, they contracted with Miss Sue Dean's grocery for what was called a 'village' post office. She took care of the mail for the immediate area, and the rural carriers would pick up pre-sorted mail at her store to deliver to mail boxes in the community. Kept them from having to spend money on a building, or pay a post master. Miss Sue just got a contract amount from the Postal Service to run things for them. Until they shut it down, too.”
“I remember that kind of thing from when I was a kid,” Clay mused. “We didn't have one since we were so close to Jordan. At least I suppose that's why. What does it look like there, now?” he wanted to know. “I mean, you know, what did it look like before all this happened,” he clarified.
“Nice little community,” Daisy told him. “We would come over here usually every weekend to play dominoes or Rook at the community center. The old gymnasium had been converted to a dance floor and sometimes local bands would come play. The Methodist Church ran a concession stand there, sold burgers, hot dogs and home baked goods. They used the money to put a new roof on the church building. Honestly, it was nice,” she sighed, remembering good times she and her husband's family had spent there.
“We're doing stuff like that now at the farm, you know,” Clay reminded her gently. “I know it's not the same without Micah and the rest, but it's something. You should think about joining in. Especially if you play Rook. There's more than one person looking for a permanent partner you know.”
“I knew it was happening, but I've not been since we returned in such glory,” Daisy snorted at her own words. “Still, maybe I will start joining in when I'm not working. I really did enjoy it.”
They fell silent as the two-vehicle convoy topped a rise overlooking what had once been an idyllic little country village. Daisy's sharp intake of breath let Clay know she could see the same things they all could from this distance. Above them he heard Gordy rack the M2, preparing it for action, and was sure that Zach had just done the same in the Cougar.
“Boss?” Tandi asked from behind the wheel.
“We came all this way,” Clay sighed. “We may as well take a look.” Tandi nodded and started slowly down the shallow grade into 'town'.
They could see several bodies lying prone in the area around what Clay assumed was the community center Daisy had mentioned. It certainly looked like a school, and if he remembered right this area had an elementary school that had closed even before he had departed for the Army. He stopped counting bodies at fifty, no longer interested in knowing how many were dead.
“Daisy, you probably don't want to get out,” he warned.
“You're right, I don't,” she nodded jerkily. “It's not all of them. At least it's not all that there were before.”
“Maybe some are still alive, so
mewhere,” Clay tried to sound hopeful, but he didn't have much hope himself, really. He'd encountered too many scenes just like this one in other places to believe it.
The Hummer eased to a stop in front of the small store building, and Clay exited with Tandi, leaving Gordy on the gun and Daisy in the back seat. Behind them, Mitchell, Heath and Kurtis stepped down, leaving Zach covering them with the gun there.
“Boss,” Tandi spoke first as the group gathered near the front of the Hummer. “There are no young women in this group,” he pointed out. “And no children, either.” He approached one of the bodies, bloated and swollen in the sun.
“Heavy rifle round, most likely,” he pointed to the wound. Moving to other bodies, he found more of the same, but also some wounds that looked more like the smaller rounds fired by an M4.
“Boss,” Heath touched Clay's shoulder, his voice quiet as usual. “Heavy fire on that building,” he pointed to the community center. “Almost sure to be a fifty, Boss,” he added, still studying it.
“Son-of-a-bitch,” Clay breathed the curse out. “That is just all we need. Some rogue military outfit running through here shooting the shit out of everything and grabbing people. What the fu-,”
“Contact!” Tandi hissed, cutting Clay's expletive off. Everyone turned to face where Tandi was looking. A young woman in ragged clothing was moving toward them, blood stains obvious on her dress, her hands raised high. Actually, one hand was raised above her head, while the other was held to her breast in a fist, forearm swollen and an angry looking red.
Clay could see no signs of any hidden weapons on her, nor could he see any signs of an ambush, but then ambushes were supposed to be concealed. What if the men on the ground here hadn't been residents, but instead had been lulled into a false sense of security before being slaughtered?
“Nothing,” Heath whispered, his rifle moving slowly as he peered at windows through his scope. “I don't see a thing. No curtains moving, no movement in the shadows, nothing at all.”
“Stay on it,” Clay ordered, pleased that the teen had been on top of things without being told. “Good job.”