Sol Survivors

by Ken Benton

  Joel put the tailgate down on Archer’s truck to sit and contemplate matters while waiting for the sun to peak over the mountains. When it finally did, his thinking had not produced anything satisfying. So he hopped down and went into his shed to organize tools and supplies as a source of therapy. A mallet and a large metal disc there made a tempting drum to start playing outside his bedroom window.

  That’s when Debra showed up with two mugs of coffee. Her appearance was the only thing offering any solace. By the look on her face, Joel guessed she might be in need of his comforting as well. She arrived as he was organizing stored seed containers. Joel decided to bring one of them out to show her.

  “You … are an angel,” was all he could think to say as he accepted a mug. The morning sun at that moment gloriously dissolved the lingering haze to warm his skin and shine on Debra’s hair.

  She smiled but didn’t respond. The two of them stood and sipped, turning to face the sunrise. When Joel finally spoke again, he decided to be blunt.

  “Your boyfriend and my girlfriend stayed up all night together. Again.”

  “And didn’t bring back your shotgun or flashlight,” Debra added.

  “He told you?”

  “Yes. Why did you even let them back in?”

  Joel chuckled and lightly placed a hand on Debra’s far shoulder, this time intentionally. He found his attraction to her becoming not only difficult to deny, but difficult to control. As if they didn’t have enough complicated problems already. She gave no discernable reaction.

  “I thought about their excuse,” Joel answered. “Normally, I would call bullshit and not even entertain such foolishness. But I must admit I am feeling the same way about the night air as they are about the daylight. I don’t want to be out in it, and, truth be told, the repulsion is getting stronger every night, almost to the point of an irrational fear.”

  “Same here,” Debra said. “And from all outward signs, Mick and Sammy are equally affected as you and I.”

  “What do you think it means?” Joel asked.

  Debra used her free hand to reach up and grab ahold of Joel’s, before he could remove it from her shoulder. She pulled his arm down around her tighter, and leaned against his torso.

  “It means the fear is not irrational.”

  * * *

  “Why do you want to turn all three vehicles into greenhouses?” Sammy asked.

  “Just the front seats,” Joel replied looking back and forth on the road as they walked. “So the seedlings will get sunlight through the windshields. We’ll make some shelves from wood or something between the dashboards and front seats.”

  “To protect the seedlings from hogs?”

  “And the sun,” Joel said. “Mostly from the sun. As you know, windshields are treated for UV protection. Debra brought something to my attention this morning when I showed her my stored seeds.”

  “What was that?”

  “You can see for yourself.” Joel pointed at the roadside. “A lot of grass and small plants are dead, everywhere you look. It all died suddenly. Debra says the damaged ozone layer caused it. We need to grow our crops with UV protection past the tender seedling stage before putting them in the ground and exposing them. The ozone should gradually rebuild itself, and Debra thinks less blue in the sky last night is a good sign.”

  “I saw you two talking in the yard this morning,” Sammy said. “From my view it appeared you and Debra were getting pretty … friendly.”

  “And from my view an invited guest ought to mind his own business on such matters.”

  “I couldn’t agree more, boss. But we might disagree on the definition of certain terms. If this is truly a survival situation, as it seems to be, then I’d say the social structure within the house is everyone’s business. With no time limit imposed on our stay, your guests are more than guests. We effectively become members of a household—though I wouldn’t blame you for kicking me out after what I’ve done. My point is that members of a household who are trying to stay safe and protect each other can do so more effectively when relationships are not weakened by gossip or drama.”

  Joel whistled. “You’re right. Man, hanging out with a Supreme Court clerk is doing wonders for your thought process. Tell you what, when I figure out what is happening with the romantic relationships in the house, you’ll be the first I inform.”

  Sammy laughed. “Fair enough. But damn you move fast, without giving another poor beggar a chance.”

  “That’s right.”

  They came to the driveway of the Bronson home about the same time they heard the squawking of chickens and the bleating of goats. Joel noticed a man behind the house, inside a big wire cage, tossing chicken feed on the ground. He and Sammy only walked a short way up the driveway before Joel decided to stop. On the close side of the house Joel spotted the telltale signs of a large underground propane tank like his.

  “Think he sees us?” Sammy asked.

  “Yes. Let’s wait out here, to be less intrusive.”

  Joel and Sammy stood while the man continued to feed chickens.

  “Hey, boss.”

  “Yeah?” by Sammy’s tone, Joel expected another apology for the hitchhiker nightmare.

  “Why is it Jessie and Archer like being out at night, but none of the rest of us do? And why are they avoiding sunlight like the plague?”

  “I don’t know, Sammy. It’s strange and unsettling, to be sure.” Joel paused a minute. “All I can think of to explain it is an old adage…”

  “There’s two kinds of people in this world,” they said in unison.

  Joel smiled at Sammy and momentarily realized he loved him as family. Sammy was right. He wasn’t just a houseguest. Sure, they played the roles of mentor-protégé, but Joel often learned things from him as well. Thank God he was here and not left behind in some desperate and deteriorating environment. Screw the car lot. The only thing Joel truly cared about, when push came to shove, had been safely retrieved from it, and was now standing beside him.

  “Sammy, I want you to forget about everything, all right? I don’t blame you for—”

  Their attention was drawn by the front door of the house creaking open. Two men stepped outside. One held a rifle—Joel’s kind of guy, whoever he was. The other Joel recognized as Hal Bronson, the white-bearded property owner. Images flashed of the two or three times they met in the past. Somewhere an owl hooted—or possibly a dove.

  Joel and Sammy stayed put. Hal said something to his companion that resulted in his nodding. The companion never raised the rifle as the two of them walked out to the middle of the driveway to meet their visitors.

  “Joel McConnell?” Hal said.

  “Nice to see you again, Hal.” Joel motioned toward Sammy. “This is my sales—I mean my friend, Sammy.”

  While those two shook hands Joel looked to the man with the rifle. His bony facial features and the slight hump in his back did strike Joel as familiar, but in a confusing way.

  “Have we met?” Joel asked him.

  “Once, I believe,” the man responded. “I’m the next neighbor up the street. Parker Maddock.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “So you don’t have a working computer, either?” Hal asked from across the round glass table. He scooted his chair to give Parker more room.

  “To be honest I haven’t even tried to turn it on,” Joel replied. “I’m sure the one I keep here is fried, and with no internet I don’t have much use for it. I protected two of them in my office back in DC, but I expect the place to be looted.” He glanced at Sammy sitting next to him.

  Parker spoke. “I don’t understand why both of you still have working refrigerators when mine burned out like a Roman candle.”

  Joel shrugged. “If it’s any consolation, I’m turning mine off tomorrow, along with most everything else. You’re welcome to come get some roast pork beforehand. The fake Parker Maddock sure enjoyed it.”

  “I do apologize for that,” Hal said scratching his white beard. “I
would have come over and warned you about him, had I any notion you were here. Guess my hearing ain’t what it used to be, or my attention to details.”

  “How did you sniff him out?” Parker asked Hal. “You know I showed that rat everything in my house and barn, dammit.”

  “Like the envoys from Babylon,” Hal mused.

  “The who? I can’t believe I got taken like that. My brain must have been on a coffee break, letting him convince me he was someone I’d met once and barely knew.”

  “That’s how he fooled me, too,” Joel said.

  Hal chuckled. “Don’t be too hard on yourselves. I suppose it’s a good routine, the way he fishes around dropping names until he gets to one that registers on your face in a way that tells him you met no more than once or twice in the past. Pretty darn skillful, really. He bumbled too many attempts with me, trying names of people I know well. I got suspicious and told him to scat.”

  “We ought to hire him to sell cars for us,” Sammy said.

  “I reckon he has a better paying gig as a burglar. Too many people at your house to make an easy target, Joel. All of a nimble age, too. Plus you flat out informed him you are heavily armed. If he comes back to this street, unless he brings a small army with him he’ll target lower-hanging fruit—like you, Parker, living alone over there. You’d probably have a legit concern if you actually owned anything worth coming for.”

  Hal and Parker laughed together.

  “But the rat did have some good suggestions,” Hal continued. “I like the idea of a neighborhood co-op, at least between us three, and maybe Danson, too, if he’s agreeable. You know we’re a little off the beaten path so it would behoove us to help each other in matters of protection.”

  Joel followed Hal’s eyes to the living room where his quiet wife and preteen son sat playing checkers.

  Sammy spoke. “You have a nice home and family, sir.”

  “Thank you, but you are seeing the good son in there. The other hasn’t come home in two days. He’s older, and thinks because he’ll be eighteen in a few months he can call his own shots. Immensely frustrating to watch him go down a bad path, staying up all night and sleeping all day. Always hanging out with that older Dunn boy, and now appears to have moved in over there.”

  Hal turned to Joel. “You and Dunn share backyard lots, so I’d be obliged to know he’s all right, if you ever see him.”

  “Does he wear a Panama hat?” Sammy asked before Joel could respond.

  “No, that’s Danson’s kid. The other member of the trio. Disrespectful youths, the lot of them. Not like you, young man. Someone did a better job of raising you, apparently.”

  Joel noticed Sammy glance at him very quickly before looking away.

  “I think we encountered the trio you speak of in my yard the day we arrived,” Joel said.

  “Jiminy Cricket! I hope they weren’t up to anything to embarrass me more than I already am.”

  Joel thought for a second. “Nothing I need to file a complaint over. I’m afraid I may have given them—oh, what did my girlfriend call it—a monster hillbilly welcome.”

  Hal contorted his face a moment, and then let out a belly laugh. “I am indebted to you, neighbor. Lord knows I should have given him more of those myself. Please accept a gift from me as a token of my appreciation.”

  “Not necessary,” Joel said. “And you probably wouldn’t offer it if you knew the details.”

  “The harsher your lesson the better. And I am asking a favor of you now, if you’d rather see it that way.” Hal turned to Parker. “Both of you. I have three female goats, but cannot continue to feed more than one. All the weeds and new growth along the back ridge of my property died when this solar flare hit. I have no choice but to let them loose into the wild if you fellows won’t take them. Up to you if you want to refuse a free supply of dairy products for years to come, or a delicious meal for days to come. Just please don’t tell me if you choose the meal.”

  Parker graciously accepted. Joel considered the matter before deciding. Sammy seemed to enjoy the slideshow of expressions on his face.

  “I appreciate such a benevolent offer, but I’m sure she’ll get through my fence, even after I build the driveway gate I’m planning.”

  “So make a pen,” Parker said. “Do you have building materials?”

  Joel stared at him. “Your impersonator asked me that same question not eighteen hours ago.”

  “I can help you out there,” Parker replied. “That is one thing I have a surplus of in my barn.”

  “Make a chicken coop while you’re at it,” Hal said. “I have too many hens, too. Unless you don’t mind walking over every morning to fetch your breakfast.”

  The conversation shortly finished. Joel and Sammy went home. Sammy appeared lost in thought most of the short walk back.

  Joel put him and Mick to work building a combination goat-pen chicken-coop, after drawing up some crude plans during lunch. The young guys wolfed down more pork mostly, but Debra and Joel made a mishmash salad from vegetables that still needed to be consumed—everything except the mushroom stems.

  Debra he put to work making a mushroom farm on the top shelf of an upper cabinet using a baking pan, good soil from under the back deck of the cabin, and the leftover stems. When she was finished with that she started on seed germination, using whatever small containers she could scrounge. Debra claimed to be an avid gardener so Joel left that task to her while he helped the guys.

  Once the structure of the pen began taking shape in the latter part of the afternoon, Joel made another trip to both Hal and Parker’s homes. He brought with him the walkie-talkies he used on the road, plus one other set he packed which also survived the storm, thanks no doubt to Archer’s Faraday garage. At least Archer ended up being good for something besides girlfriend-stealing. Then again, Joel may end up having to thank him for that, too. Joel was definitely trading up if a swap was in the works.

  He tested the first set of walkie-talkies at Hal’s by calling Debra at home, and the second set at Parker’s by calling both Hal and Debra. Even at the farther range Debra still came in reasonably clear.

  Poor Parker. As a self-sufficient widower in his sixties, he didn’t act like he had need of much, other than a new refrigerator, but Joel knew better. Parker talked briefly about his only remaining family, a daughter out there somewhere who usually called him on Father’s Day and Christmas. His house was built of a dark wood with some brick, and looked like it was nice once, a long time ago. The only backup generator he owned was a portable that ran on gas or propane. Joel planned on bringing him the extra propane tank Archer traded for with the U-Haul gang. But even that would not last too long.

  Parker did have two things going for him. The first was an obedient dog named Jules, a shepherd-mix who went from wanting to kill Joel to being his buddy at one command from Parker. The second was a very nice barn, which just received a new occupant. The goat was going to take Jules a little more time getting used to. Parker also kept a few chickens in the barn.

  The barn featured a sizeable storage area with dry-kept building supplies, not to mention more dried dog food than Parker had food stored for himself. At least he could enjoy the pork Joel brought him for dinner. With Parker’s help, Joel located the primary items he came in search of: strong hinges to make swing-up doors for easy access to the hen nests as well as a swinging gate for the pen. At Parker’s insistence he also accepted a long, clean two-by-four to make a support beam for the roof.

  Joel carried the two-by-four home with both arms, shifting it from one side to the other frequently. When he reached his driveway, he set it down, deciding it would be better deployed in the construction of his front gate. There he turned to gaze back down the street. From that spot he could see a small slice of both Hal and Parker’s houses.

  So this is what it was like to have good neighbors.

  * * *

  “What the hell are we doing out in these sticks?” Tito grumbled, pulling the ski cap down
over his eyes again. “And why do we trust Roller’s memory? No one can accurately remember directions from one look at a scribbled note.”

  “Shut up,” Clyde said from the driver’s seat, “or I’ll make you sit in the cargo hold with Red. We got nothing better to do right now.”

  “I’d love to be back there. I already told you that ten times. You’re a sadistic bastard, Clyde. You know I can’t stand this sunlight. And Red is afraid of the dark all of a freaking sudden. So you stick him in the dark and me up here.”

  Roller remained quiet between them, intently focused on road signs and the local street map they acquired at their last trading stop in Knoxville.

  “Roller and I are just as affected by this damn sun as you are,” Clyde responded. “If we have to suffer it, you do, too. We all need to man up. Would you have Red drive and us stay in the hold until dusk, with Red trying to follow Roller’s directions? The fool would have us in Alabama with an empty tank, if he didn’t drive us off a cliff first.”

  “I see your point, but supposing we do find them? What then? You know the main dude is armed, and, as Roller learned, a decent shot. He can’t be seeing this truck coming down his street or he’ll be ready for us. And we ain’t ourselves anymore during the daytime. We need to take him at night.”

  “Naturally,” Clyde said. “If Red is going to be any help at all, though, we should do it at dusk, before it gets too dark. And I doubt Roller is willing to—”

  “Slow down!” Roller shouted, bursting to life.

  “I see the street sign,” Clyde replied. “Keep your shirt on.”

  “This is it!” Roller said as soon as the sign could be read. “Dammit, this is it! I told your ugly asses I’d get us here. It’s gotta be one of the next houses after turning left.”

  Tito lifted his ski hat. “All right. So now what?”

  Clyde pointed to the roadside. “We’ll find some trees or brush, like maybe that spot yonder, to hide the truck the best we can. Then we’ll wait for dusk to explore the neighborhood.”